A Skirt's Not So Bad - tekomandor - Harry Potter (2024)

Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Year Two, Chapter One Chapter Text Chapter 2: Year Two, Chapter Two Chapter Text Chapter 3: Year Two, Chapter Three Chapter Text Chapter 4: Year Two, Chapter Four Chapter Text Chapter 5: Year Two, Chapter Five Notes: Chapter Text Notes: Chapter 6: Year Two, Chapter Six Chapter Text Chapter 7: Year Two, Chapter Seven Notes: Chapter Text Notes: Chapter 8: Year Two, Chapter Eight Notes: Chapter Text Chapter 9: Year Two, Chapter Nine Chapter Text Chapter 10: Year Two, Chapter Ten Chapter Text Chapter 11: Year Two, Chapter Eleven Chapter Text Chapter 12: Year Three, Chapter One Chapter Text Chapter 13: Year Three, Chapter Two Chapter Text Chapter 14: Year Three, Chapter Three Chapter Text Chapter 15: Year Three, Chapter Four Chapter Text Chapter 16: Year Three, Chapter Five Chapter Text Chapter 17: Year Three, Chapter Six Chapter Text Chapter 18: Year Three, Chapter Seven Chapter Text Chapter 19: Year Three, Chapter Eight Chapter Text Chapter 20: Year Three, Chapter Nine Chapter Text Chapter 21: Year Three, Chapter Ten Chapter Text Chapter 22: Year Three, Chapter Eleven Chapter Text Chapter 23: Year Three, Chapter Twelve Chapter Text Chapter 24: Year Three, Chapter Thirteen Chapter Text Chapter 25: Year Three, Chapter Fourteen Chapter Text Chapter 26: Year Three, Chapter Fifteen Chapter Text Chapter 27: Year Three, Chapter Sixteen Chapter Text Chapter 28: Year Three, Chapter Seventeen Chapter Text Chapter 29: Year Three, Chapter Eighteen Chapter Text Chapter 30: Year Three, Chapter Nineteen Chapter Text Chapter 31: Year Three, Chapter Twenty Chapter Text Chapter 32: Year Three, Chapter Twenty One Chapter Text Chapter 33: Year Three, Chapter Twenty Two Chapter Text Chapter 34: Year Three, Chapter Twenty Three Notes: Chapter Text Notes: Chapter 35: Year Four, Chapter One Chapter Text Chapter 36: Year Four, Chapter Two Chapter Text Chapter 37: Year Four, Chapter Three Chapter Text Chapter 38: Year Four, Chapter Four Chapter Text Chapter 39: Year Four, Chapter Five Chapter Text Chapter 40: Year Four, Chapter Six Chapter Text Chapter 41: Year Four, Chapter Seven Chapter Text Chapter 42: Year Four, Chapter Eight Chapter Text Chapter 43: Year Four, Chapter Nine Chapter Text Chapter 44: Year Four, Chapter Ten Chapter Text Chapter 45: Year Four, Chapter Eleven Chapter Text Chapter 46: Year Four, Chapter Twelve Chapter Text Chapter 47: Year Four, Chapter Thirteen Chapter Text Chapter 48: Year Four, Chapter Fourteen Chapter Text Chapter 49: Year Four, Chapter Fifteen Chapter Text Chapter 50: Year Four, Chapter Sixteen Chapter Text Chapter 51: Year Four, Chapter Seventeen Chapter Text Chapter 52: Year Four, Chapter Eighteen Chapter Text Chapter 53: Year Four, Chapter Nineteen Chapter Text Chapter 54: Year Four, Chapter Twenty Chapter Text Chapter 55: Year Four, Chapter Twenty One Chapter Text Chapter 56: Year Four, Chapter Twenty Two Chapter Text Chapter 57: Year Four, Chapter Twenty Three Chapter Text Chapter 58: Year Four, Chapter Twenty Four Chapter Text Chapter 59: Year Four, Chapter Twenty Five Chapter Text Chapter 60: Year Four, Chapter Twenty Six Chapter Text Chapter 61: Year Four, Chapter Twenty Seven Chapter Text Chapter 62: Year Four, Chapter Twenty Eight Chapter Text Chapter 63: Year Four, Chapter Twenty Nine Chapter Text Chapter 64: Year Four, Chapter Thirty Chapter Text Chapter 65: Year Four, Chapter Thirty One Chapter Text Chapter 66: Year Four, Chapter Thirty Two Chapter Text Chapter 67: Year Four, Chapter Thirty Three Chapter Text Chapter 68: Year Four, Chapter Thirty Four Chapter Text Chapter 69: Year Four, Chapter Thirty Five Chapter Text Chapter 70: Year Four, Chapter Thirty Six Chapter Text Chapter 71: Year Four, Chapter Thirty Seven Chapter Text Chapter 72: Year Four, Chapter Thirty Eight Chapter Text Chapter 73: Year Four, Chapter Thirty Nine Notes: Chapter Text Notes: Chapter 74: Year Five, Chapter One Chapter Text Chapter 75: Year Five, Chapter Two Chapter Text Chapter 76: Year Five, Chapter Three Chapter Text Chapter 77: Year Five, Chapter Four Chapter Text Chapter 78: Year Five, Chapter Five Chapter Text Chapter 79: Year Five, Chapter Six Chapter Text Chapter 80: Year Five, Chapter Seven Chapter Text Chapter 81: Year Five, Chapter Eight Chapter Text Chapter 82: Year Five, Chapter Nine Chapter Text Chapter 83: Year Five, Chapter Ten Chapter Text Chapter 84: Year Five, Chapter Eleven Chapter Text Chapter 85: Year Five, Chapter Twelve Chapter Text Chapter 86: Year Five, Chapter Thirteen Chapter Text Chapter 87: Year Five, Chapter Fourteen Chapter Text Chapter 88: Year Five, Chapter Fifteen Chapter Text Chapter 89: Year Five, Chapter Sixteen Chapter Text Chapter 90: Year Five, Chapter Seventeen Chapter Text Chapter 91: Year Five, Chapter Eighteen Chapter Text Chapter 92: Year Five, Chapter Nineteen Chapter Text Chapter 93: Year Five, Chapter Twenty Chapter Text Chapter 94: Year Five, Chapter Twenty One Chapter Text Chapter 95: Year Five, Chapter Twenty Two Chapter Text Chapter 96: Year Five, Chapter Twenty Three Chapter Text Chapter 97: Year Five, Chapter Twenty Four Chapter Text Chapter 98: Year Five, Chapter Twenty Five Chapter Text Chapter 99: Year Five, Chapter Twenty Six Chapter Text Chapter 100: Year Five, Chapter Twenty Seven Chapter Text Chapter 101: Year Five, Chapter Twenty Eight Notes: Chapter Text Notes: Chapter 102: Year Five, Chapter Twenty Nine Chapter Text Chapter 103: Year Five, Chapter Thirty Chapter Text Chapter 104: Year Five, Chapter Thirty One Chapter Text Chapter 105: Year Five, Chapter Thirty Two Chapter Text Chapter 106: Year Five, Chapter Thirty Three Chapter Text Chapter 107: Year Five, Chapter Thirty Four Chapter Text Chapter 108: Year Five, Chapter Thirty Five Chapter Text Chapter 109: Year Five, Chapter Thirty Six Chapter Text Chapter 110: Year Five, Chapter Thirty Seven Chapter Text Chapter 111: Year Five, Chapter Thirty Eight Chapter Text Chapter 112: Year Five, Chapter Thirty Nine Chapter Text Chapter 113: Year Five, Chapter Forty Chapter Text Chapter 114: Year Five, Chapter Forty One Chapter Text Chapter 115: Year Five, Chapter Forty Two Notes: Chapter Text Notes: Chapter 116: Year Five, Chapter Forty Three Chapter Text Chapter 117: Year Five, Chapter Forty Four Chapter Text Chapter 118: Year Five, Chapter Forty Five Chapter Text Chapter 119: Year Five, Chapter Forty Six Chapter Text Chapter 120: Year Five, Chapter Forty Seven Chapter Text Chapter 121: Year Five, Chapter Forty Eight Chapter Text Chapter 122: Year Five, Chapter Forty Nine Chapter Text Chapter 123: Year Five, Chapter Fifty Chapter Text Chapter 124: Year Six, Chapter One Chapter Text Chapter 125: Year Six, Chapter Two Chapter Text Chapter 126: Year Six, Chapter Three Chapter Text Chapter 127: Year Six, Chapter Four Chapter Text Chapter 128: Year Six, Chapter Five Chapter Text Chapter 129: Year Six, Chapter Six Chapter Text Chapter 130: Year Six, Chapter Seven Chapter Text

Chapter 1: Year Two, Chapter One

Chapter Text

A Skirt's Not So Bad

Chapter One

“Goyle’s gone home for Christmas?!” Harry asked, as he and his two best friends - Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger - sat in a disused girl’s bathroom. It was a cold, damp place even in Autumn. In Winter, it was a wonder they could stand to be inside there for more than a few minutes. When the cauldron they’d hidden there was on the flame it was a little better, but plenty of the arcane steps to create it required a cold cauldron.

“The plan’s ruined, then,” Ron said dejectedly.

“Well, not necessarily...” Hermione said, looking at Harry and Ron a little oddly. Harry, recognising that expression, felt that there was a ‘but’ coming. “Pansy Parkinson’s parents had some kind of emergency, and so she’s staying for Christmas too,” Hermoine continued.

“But we can’t be Pansy!” Ron said.

“Didn’t the book say that cross-gender polyjuice wasn’t recommended?” Harry asked, thinking back to a hazily remembered passage.

“That was for long term use. You should be fine if it’s just for an hour,” Hermione said.

“I dunno, Hermione. Being Crabbe and Goyle is one thing, but being Pansy Parkison?” Ron said.

“I - I guess catching the Heir of Slytherin is more important than having to bear being Pansy Parkinson for an hour. You be Crabbe, Ron,” Harry said after he gathered up his courage. His mind was racing at the thought - it seemed wrong to him somehow, something extra forbidden. Still, half-remembered rants by Uncle Vernon about ‘queers’ wasn’t really worse than what they were planning to do and one thought to poor Colin Creevy lying petrified gave Harry the resolve he needed.

“That does bring up a problem - I already have my hair, and I had a plan to get Crabbe and Goyle’s... but even Pansy Parkinson isn’t thick enough to fall for it,” Hermione said. Her voice had an unusual note of venom, and Harry thought that Hermione had the potential to be quite nasty if she wanted to be.

“What’s your plan for Crabbe then?” Ron asked.

“Leave a cupcake dosed with sleeping potion out with him to find,” Hermione said, shrugging. Harry and Ron both shared a lock of shock.

“Blimey, remind me to never make you mad again!” Ron said, and Hermione gave a sort of bashful smile.

“So what should we do for Pansy?” Harry asked.

“How’s your stunning spell, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“What? You were there in Quirell’s class, none of us could do more than make each other a little sleepy with it,” Harry said.

“I dunno mate, you made me pretty bloody drowsy with it,” Ron said.

“I think you might be able to pull it off with practice, Harry. If you can stun her from beneath the invisibility cloak, I can dose her with a mix of sleeping potion and forgetfulness draught that should make sure she doesn’t remember it,” Hermione said, her face wrought with determination.

“How are we going to get her alone, anyway?” Harry asked.

“Easy. She goes to the Owlery after dinner most nights - with most of the castle gone, it should be easy to get her alone and stun her from under the cloak,” Hermione said. Harry nodded but again thought that making Hermione angry was probably a bad idea.

“Might be a useful thing to know how to do with the Heir running around, stunning,” Ron muttered.

“I don’t think I’m going to stun Slytherin’s monster, Ron,” Harry said.

“I reckon you could stun Malfoy, though,” Ron said with a grin.

Harry couldn’t help but grin at that thought. It was with that pleasant idea circulating in his brain that he, Ron, and Hermione spent several hours over a few days blasting cushions around disused classrooms with jets of red light. It was the sort of intensive study that Harry and Ron never did, but Harry found it surprisingly easy now that he knew he might put it to some use. It was still arduous and not that exciting, at least after the first few goes, but it felt more like looking for Nicholas Flamel had, even though it would actually come up on his OWL.

“I still don’t get why it’s a stunning spell and not a jinx or something,” Ron said one winter afternoon. His stunning spell wasn’t quite as good as Hermione or Harry’s - both of them could stun each other fairly reliably now.

“That’s... that’s actually a good point, Ron,” Hermione said, sounding a little shocked.

“No need to sound so surprised,” he said, but he smiled at the praise all the same. “Say, how’d you get your hair, Hermione?” Ron asked.

“Remember when Bulstrode put me in a headlock at the duelling club? She left some on my robes,” Hermione explained.

“Are you sure it’s hers? I mean, doesn’t she have a cat - you could end up meowing for an hour!” Ron asked.

“It’s not a cat hair,” Hermione said, a little defensively.

“I wouldn’t risk it if I were you. The pictures in that book were pretty horrific,” Ron said, shaking his head.

“Oh fine. She always falls asleep trying to study in the library, I’ll get one from her there,” Hermione said.

--/--

Crabbe looked mournful as he roamed the corridors alone after the Christmas feast. Without Goyle, he seemed almost lost to a daze as he nibbled on deserts cradled in his arms. He bent over to pick up the cupcake, and with a single sad sigh, bit into it.

He landed on the ground with a soft ‘thud’, completely asleep. Ron ran out from around the corner, looking slightly amazed that Hermione’s plan had worked. He bent down, picked off a hair, and dragged Crabbe into a cupboard.

“I feel almost bad about this now,” Ron said, sighing as he closed the cupboard door. The poor boy seemed totally lost without his partner in thuggery.

Meanwhile, Harry and Hermione waited just down from the Owlery under the invisibility cloak. Pansy had already gone up and sent her letter, and now all that remained was for them to enact their plan. Which, in Harry’s estimation, was quite possibly the most reckless thing Hermione had ever rsuggested. Lacking any better plan, however, he got ready to cast beneath the cloak.

Pansy walked down, and then past the pair of Gryffindors. She seemed happy at whatever letter she was clutching, and was almost skipping. That seemed, to Harry, to be a little like Snape being nothing but polite and friendly - a sure sign of danger.

“Stupefy!” Harry shouted as he threw off the cloak. Before Parkinson could even begin to turn, a jet of red light slammed into her back. She tumbled forwards, knocked out as surely as if Dudely had landed his hardest punch to the side of her head. Hermione rushed forward, quickly turning the girl over and pouring the two tiny vials of potion down her mouth. Harry then bent down and, a little awkwardly, plucked off a hair.

Without a word between them, Hermione took Pansy’s legs and Harry her arms as they stuffed her somewhat inelegantly into a broom cupboard.

They all met back up in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, where Hermione handed out vials full of disgusting looking potion and sets of spare uniforms taken from the laundry - and a pair of her own shoes, charmed to fit Pansy, for Harry.

“Glad it’s not me wearing a skirt, mate. Be almost worse than being Pansy for an hour,” Ron said, as he ventured into a cubicle.

“Yeah...” harry said, trailing off. He for one felt a little nervous, but the idea didn’t seem so awful to him. It was only a skirt - how bad could it be? Before he could find out, though, he had to take some Pansy-Parkison flavoured polyjuice and that he was dreading.

He dropped the hair into the vial, and it instantly became violently pink. Still the same disgusting sludge, but no it no longer looked like sewage. It only smelled like it came from a sewer. It’ll be worth it when we find out Malfoy’s the heir, Harry thought to himself. Then he looked at the girls uniform, neatly folded next to him. Here, alone, he could admit to being a little curious.

Harry downed the entire potion with a single gulp. It tasted acrid as if he’d just swallowed some chemical concoction. His insides writhed, and for a single moment, he feared that Hermione had got the potion wrong. Then he felt his bones begin to move - a feeling much worse than even the skelegrow he’d taken after Lockhart had vanished all the bones in his arms. His entire body seemed to burn and melt, reshaping itself rather violently.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the entire experience was over. Harry was standing there, but in the mirror stood a dark-haired girl with a pug nose. Far from the sense of wrongness Most Ponte Potions had said he should feel, Harry felt only an odd sense of, well, rightness. His uniform was tight in some places and oddly loose in others - Pansy was not quite as fit as Harry - but nothing about being Pansy Parkinson felt wrong in the slightest.

Avoiding looking in the mirror as he did so, Harry quickly got changed into the girl’s uniform. It was mostly the same, and although the Slytherin tie felt wrong, nothing else about the uniform did. Absorbed by a kind of manic energy, Harry spun around quickly and marvelled at the skirt. That was not as awful as Ron had said it would be. That was... that was fun.

“Oi, you ready in there mate?” Ron said, in Crabbe’s voice.

“Yeah, just let me get these shoes on,” Harry replied and marvelled at how Pansy’s voice sounded. Then he thought about Colin Creevy and all the other petrified kids - what if the heir came after Hermione - and went out of the stall. As fun as this was, Harry thought, he still had an heir to catch.

Chapter 2: Year Two, Chapter Two

Chapter Text

“Merlin, that’s odd,” Ron said as Harry and Hermione exited the cubicles. Harry was struck by just how large Crabbe was up close, and the slightly intimidating fact that Milicent Bulstrode was even bigger. In her case, Harry thought, it was less fat and more bulk.

“It’s a good thing you made me get another hair, Ron - I put the one I got at the duelling club into some polyjuice and it was definitely not from Bulstrode,” Hermione said.

“Honestly, this isn’t nearly as bad as the book said,” Harry muttered. He felt almost an embarrassment at that - as if he should feel bad. But if you can’t be honest with friends who’d risked their lives to help you, who could you be honest with, Harry thought.

“Really mate? I guess it’s not so bad for some people or something,” Ron said, a little awkwardly.

“It didn’t - oh, we’re wasting time! We need to get going, we only have an hour,” Hermoine said.

“You find out where the Slytherin common room is, Harry?” Ron asked, unusually eloquent for Crabbe.

“Followed Malfoy yesterday-” Harry began, only for Hermione to interrupt.

“We all need to start speaking like the people we look like! Harry, speak like a catty bully. Ron, speak like even more of an idiot... and I guess I need to speak mostly in grunts,” Hermione said. Ron gave a half-hearted objection to ‘even more of an idiot’, but being told he was right about Hermione’s hair took the sting out of it.

“Now if you two will stop fighting and follow me,” Harry said as he turned and walked out of the bathroom, only barely holding in a giggle. Pansy Parkinson might not be so ugly when Harry looked like her - her nose wasn’t really that bad - but she certainly was as bad as Draco in her own way. Aside from setting a monster loose on the school. Harry didn’t think Pansy had done that.

“That’s downright unnatural, that is,” Ron muttered as they all made their way down into the dungeons. Hurrying down the steps in unfamiliar shoes was a little difficult for Harry, but his natural agility and quick reflexes kept him from any falls.

Harry had followed Malfoy under his cloak the day before, and he quickly led the trio through the Dungeons. He hadn’t got close enough to overhear the password, so they’d need to find another Slytherin to follow. Unfortunately for them, the first person they found wasn’t a Slytherin.

“Miss Parkinson, what are you doing out of bed at this hour? And you, Crabbe and Bulstrode?” Percy Weasley asked, hands on his hips. He sounded like a male version of Molly Weasley, and Harry was seized by a sudden mad impulse to laugh. He managed not to, but it was close.

“What’s it got to do with you, Weasley? Down here looking for a handout from some real wizards? As it’s not curfew yet, I suggest you go back to your muggle studies books,” Harry said and felt unclean as he said it.

“You should show more respect to a Prefect, Parkinson. Ten points from Slytherin, and get back to your common room. It’s not safe out here at night,” Percy said.

“Nobody’s going to attack three purebloods down here, Weasley,” Draco Malfoy said, as he stepped around a corner.

“Be that as it may, Mr Malfoy - off to your common room before I take more points,” Percy said, a little flustered. The trio followed Malfoy as he walked off, and they heard him mutter something foul about blood traitors as he led them away.

“Where have you been, Pansy? You can’t have been hanging around with these two oafs,” Draco said.

“Obviously not. I ran into them on the way down from the Owlery,” Harry said, flicking his long black curls as he spoke. That was fun, Harry thought.

“That Peter Weasley... what a suck-up. Thinks he’s going to catch the Heir of Slytherin single-handedly by skulking outside our common room,” Draco said, and Ron corrected him with a muttered ‘Percy’ that Draco didn’t seem to notice.

“Good thing you came along and saved us when you did, Draco,” Harry said, trying his best to imitate Pansy’s sycophantic tone.

“I’m sure you’d have handled him, Pansy - pure blood - he’s just another one of those dirt poor blood traitors,” Draco said, uttering the password as they neared the concealed stone door. It opened to reveal a room very different from the Gryffindor common room. It was long and low, lit by hazy lanterns and a flickering fire. The green couches were immaculate leather, rather than the cozy-if battered cloth of the Gryffindor common room. “That reminds me, though - I have something to show that should make those points sting less. I’ll be back in a moment,” Draco said, walking towards the boy’s dormitories.

The trio sat down a little awkwardly, making sure to not be too close together. Harry’s eyes widened as he saw the titles on some of the books left lying around - ‘1001 Curses, Jinxes and Hexes’ and ‘Love Potions for the Beginning Witch’ were some of the milder ones. Harry made sure he sat properly - he was sure Pansy wouldn’t sit like he normally did. His skirt was still a little odd, but he had to keep from smiling too much - even though he had to pretend to be an awful person, being Pansy was surprisingly fun. Well, Harry thought, apart from having to talk to Draco Malfoy.

“Here it is - isn’t it hilarious?” Draco asked, holding out a Daily Prophet clipping. It was a story about Mr Weasley being fined fifty galleons for enchanting a car, and Harry felt guilt run through him at the story. Hermoine thankfully remembered to laugh, and Harry was quick enough to try his best impression of Pansy’s high, mocking laugh.

“That’s hilarious, Draco. Best news I’ve seen all week,” Harry said, hoping his fake smile matched the won Pansy usually wore.

“I’ve got some that’s even better,” Draco said as he leaned in. Harry found his obvious attempts to impress Pansy funny enough that not laughing was his biggest struggle. “My father says that not only are the attacks going to be reported soon but that they’re going to get worse - and then Dumbledore will get fired! Just think about - no Dumbledore, no mudbloods, and certainly no Weasleys,”

“It would be nice... sounds like your father knows a lot about what’s going on,” Harry said, trying to flatter Draco Malfoy, and not even the fun of being Pansy could make up for that.

“Maybe, but he doesn’t tell me much,” Draco said.

“Are you sure? You must know something...” Harry said. Really, he thought, this was way too easy. Pretending to be Pansy was a way better plan than pretending to be Goyle.

“I’ve told you everything I know, Pansy. I wish I knew who the Heir was - I’d help them! But Father just says to keep my head down and let the Heir. Hopefully, he gets the Granger mudblood next. Merlin, I hope she’s the one who dies!” Draco said, and Hermione gripped the chair she was sitting in a little too hard. “What’s with the reaction, Bulstrode? Got a crush on the little beaver-face mudblood do you?” Draco said with a sneer.

“She just wants to kill Granger herself, more like,” Ron said before Hermione could speak.

“The one who dies?” Harry asked, shocked that Malfoy wasn’t the Heir.

“Weren’t you listening to me the last time, Pansy? The last time the chamber was opened, fifty years ago, a mudblood died! My father wouldn’t say who did it, but he did tell me something interesting - the Heir managed to frame that oaf Hagrid and never got caught. Maybe he’s going to make Potter take the blame this time - wouldn’t it be grand to see Saint Potter, friend to the Mudbloods, get carted off to Azkaban?” Draco asked.

“Azkaban?” Harry asked dimly.

“The wizard prison? Are you feeling alright, Pansy?” Draco asked.

“I think I’ve got a bit of a headache,” Harry lied.

“Not surprising after dealing with that Weasley blood traitor. Merlin, those types are almost worse than mudbloods - did I tell you the Ministry raided our manor last week? If they’d have found Father’s real collection we might have been in trouble, but of course, they didn’t know about the Malfoy’s own secret chamber - right under our drawing-room,” Draco said with a grin.

“I think you did... my headache’s getting worse. I think I’m going to go to the Hospital Wing,” Harry said. They’d gotten what they needed from Draco - even if it wasn’t what they wanted. It was time to leave because Harry did not want Draco Malfoy to see him wearing a girl’s uniform in the middle of the Slytherin common room. In fact, Harry was fairly certain he’d had that nightmare once or twice.

“I’ll go with her. Go laugh at the mudbloods,” Hermione said, as Ron grunted. Draco laughed a little, and the trio made a hasty retreat from the Slytherin corridor.

“Well, maybe we didn’t learn who the Heir was - but I’m gonna owl my dad right away about that secret chamber,” Ron said with a grin.

“At least we learnt something about the Chamber - but I have no idea who the Heir could be!” Hermoine said.

Harry, now that they were out of sight of any Slytherins, did a little spin. Yes, he thought, that was still as fun even after having had to pretend to be Pansy Parkinson. Even her voice was still fun - were there charms that could let him speak like this more often, he thought. Maybe not exactly like Pansy, but still.

“You alright mate?” Ron asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said, a little shyly.

“Not exactly ‘a truly horrific experience’ like that book promised, being a bird then?”

“It’s pretty fun... apart from having to pretend to be Pansy,” Harry said, grinning a little. Hermoine’s eyes narrowed like she usually did when thinking about something - it looked quite bizarre on Bulstrode’s face.

“I think I need to owl my parents about something...” Hermione said as the trio made their way back to the disused girl’s bathroom.

Chapter 3: Year Two, Chapter Three

Chapter Text

Harry felt himself change back in the little cubicle, his body twisting and melting. He was himself again, and he felt awful. It felt wrong, he realised. That slight itch, that old pain that he had no words for - taking the polyjuice had made it go away for a few moments, but it returned far worse. He hadn’t known what was wrong before, what to long for. Now he had it given to him for an hour and snatched it away.

He sat there on the grimy floor, still in the uniform Hermione had borrowed for him, and Harry felt himself cry. Tears flowed down his face, and he hugged his knees. He could no longer ignore it, no longer brush it under happy memories of Hogwarts and the Burrow. It was Christmas Day at Hogwarts, and it all felt like ash to Harry.

The door remained closed, and Harry wanted it to never open. He wanted to stay here, where he at least wouldn’t have to change out of the uniform. It didn’t fit him particularly well, being sized for Pansy, but the over-large uniform was the most comfortable piece of clothing he’d ever worn.

“Are - are you okay in there Harry?” Hermione asked, quietly.

“Mate, you having trouble in there?” Ron asked a little later, but Harry couldn’t respond. He might have been able to put it into words in his head, but how could he say them. His friends would laugh at him, think him a freak. He was a freak, he thought. Uncle Vernon had been right after all.

“It’s wrong...” Harry muttered to himself through the tears, over and over again. He had never felt like this before, never felt such a wall of emotions slam into him as though they had physical force. It felt like he couldn’t move, and he slumped against the wood of the stall. All the happiness and excitement he’d felt over the polyjuice had been drained from him and seemingly returned tenfold.

“Harry?” Ron and Hermoine said, as the door to the stall swung slowly open. He was still wearing the girl’s uniform, and Harry felt a sudden bolt of shame.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Hermione asked nothing in her voice but concern.

“Did you have a bad reaction to the potion, mate? Percy’s always going on about bad cauldrons...” Ron said, not even registering the uniform.

“I - I want to go back,” Harry said, very quietly. He still couldn’t look at his friends, his face flushed with shame.

“What do you mean, ‘go back’?” Ron asked, confused. “Did you leave something behind there, Harry?”

“I - I don’t think Harry left anything behind,” Hermione said slowly, without her usual confidence,
“Well, I dunno what’s going mate - I can’t read minds, you know. But you two stay right there, I need to go get something from Fred and George,” Ron said, taking one last concerned look at Harry before dashing off.

“Up you get,” Hermione said, pulling Harry to his feet and leading him over to the disused chairs that they’d set up inside the bathroom. He slumped into one, bonelessly. “Was it about not having to be Harry Potter anymore?” Hermoine asked. Harry shook his head. “We just want to help, you know, both Ron and I. What’s making you so upset at changing back?” Hermione asked.

“It was -” Harry began, and then paused. How could he answer truthfully, how could he admit something so shameful? It scared him to his core, the idea of losing his friends. Perhaps an ordinary twelve-year-old might have given up then, spun an unconvincing lie. Even an extraordinary one couldn’t be faulted for not saying it. But the Sorting Hat hadn’t made a mistake when it said Harry had courage, and Harry had shown courage more extraordinary than most adult wizards the previous year. “It was about not being a girl anymore,” Harry finished very quietly, yet it seemed like his words were deafeningly loud in the quiet of an almost empty Hogwarts.

“Oh,” Hermione said very quietly. “I didn’t - the potion didn’t?” she asked.

“I - I don’t think so. I think I was always like this. Always hurt, but I didn’t say anything because I learned to live with it. Then I didn’t, just for an hour, and I was so happy,” Harry said. Harry toyed with the skirt, wanting to do anything but look at Hermione. She would think he was a freak, he was sure. She’d leave, find some excuse to run away.

“The book said that spending any real length of time polyjuiced as the opposite gender would be horrific... it’s been like that for years for you, hasn’t it?” Hermoine said, very quietly. The puzzle had been solved now, all her confusion gone. Harry nodded, and Hermoine hugged her. “I can’t imagine what that must be like, Harry. I don’t know how to make it better... but I’m going to try, no matter what. You and Ron were my first friends, you know? Nobody before you two would have cared to look for me with a troll on the loose. That night was the first time I’d ever stayed up late talking to a friend. I can tell it was the same with you when you made friends with Ron” Hermoine said, letting go of her hug.

“My relatives, my cousin made sure I didn’t have any friends growing up,” Harry said haltingly. He felt like Uncle Vernon would burst in screaming at any moment. “I don’t know why Ron sticks around with us, sometimes,” Harry said. She’d never had the large family, the ease of making friendships that Ron had.

“‘Cause you’re both better friends than any of other kids here and bloody brilliant, that’s why,” Ron said, bursting into the bathroom carrying a number of dark brown bottles.

“I’m not, Hermi-” Harry began, only for Ron to cut her off.

“Yeah, you are. Forget about all that Boy Who Lived stuff. You’re the youngest Seeker in a century, and you damn well would have won the cup last year if you hadn’t been busy saving the wizarding world!” Ron said, raising his voice. He looked a little red for a moment and then spoke again. “Anyway, it’s still Christmas. No moping allowed. I got these from Fred and George,” Ron said, offering Harry and Hermione one of the bottles each. They both took it warily.

“What is this stuff?” Harry asked.

“Butterbeer. You have to be thirteen to buy it, but I figure what’s a few months either way after making polyjuice?” Ron said, grinning. Harry tried a little bit and found that she liked it. It had a pleasant sort of warmth to it, but only a little. It was sweet too, and Harry had to stop herself from laughing when she saw Hermoine enjoy it.

“Oh, alright,” Hermione said, blushing a little as she drank the butterbeer.

“So, Harry, what’s with the new style?” Ron asked, a little nervously.

“It just... feels better,” Harry said, admitting it aloud.

“It’s making you feel better, yeah?” Ron asked, and Harry nodded. “Good,” he said and drank more butterbeer.

“I’ll need to return that one... but you can borrow one of my old uniforms if you like. It should fit you,” Hermione said, softly.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, unsure of herself.

“Of course,” Hermione said.

“There’s no one in the common room - Fred and George are up in their dormitory. You two could go get it now if you like,” Ron said.

So the three of them set off, finishing their butterbeers on the way. They were all a little giggly by the time they reached the portrait hole - butterbeer was only very mildly alcoholic, but they were twelve.

“I’ll stay down here,” Ron said, a little awkwardly as Harry and Hermione walked up the staircase to the girl’s dormitories. Harry realised just as she finished walking up that she’d never been up here.

Hermione smiled as they reached the top of the stairs, and turned towards Harry.
“Seems you’re still a girl in Hogwarts’ eyes, Harry” Hermione said, smiling.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“The staircase doesn’t let boys up. Turns into a slide and makes noise,” Hermoine said, as she opened the door to her dormitory room. Harry was still a little shocked as she walked in. It looked an awful lot like the boy’s dormitory, as it turned out. Still, there were differences. She might be a girl, she thought, but that signed Lockhart poster made her gag. Hermione handed Harry the uniform, and they made their way back downstairs.

Fred was there, looking at Ron very oddly, and then at Harry even odder.

“How’d you manage to get up that staircase, Harry?” Fred asked, completely ignoring the girl’s uniform.

“Because I’m a girl,” she said without thinking and felt her cheeks go scarlet just afterwards.

“Never thought of that one myself!” Fred said and went back up to the boy’s dorms. “Well, ask obvious questions and get obvious answers,” he said, lightly chuckling to himself.

Harry slept a little easier that night, and the night after. Everything wasn’t better at once, but she could see it getting better someday, and for now, that was enough.

Two days after Christmas, Hedwig arrived at Hogwarts with a reply from Hermione’s parents. Harry wasn’t sure what Hermione had written to them about exactly, only that they might know about Harry’s situation.

The trio took the letter up to the second year boy’s dorm, and began to read...

Chapter 4: Year Two, Chapter Four

Chapter Text

Dear Hermione

We were very concerned about your friend - it sounds like they were having a tough time. It’s not really an area we know much about, but we reached out to some friends of ours who reached out to friends and so on. Mr Gould and his partner - from down the street - ended up being the most helpful.

Obviously what we can tell about your friend from a letter is limited, but they told us much more about what your friend’s condition might be and put us in touch with a specialist doctor. We’re still waiting to hear back, but based on our de-wizardised retelling of your description of the school staff Mr Gould suggested that your friend broach the subject carefully with Madam Pomfrey - hopefully, wizards have some instant cure that will make your friend feel better!

Love, your parents.

“Well, I’m confused. Is this muggle stuff? Why do they want you to speak to Madam Pomfrey?” Ron asked, looking at the letter.

“Specialist doctor?” Harry asked, also a little confused.

“Well, to honest with you, I’d heard a little about something in the muggle world that sounded a little like your problem, Harry. Sometimes it wasn’t...” Hermione said but trailed off. Harry and Ron looked at her, and she gathered the courage to continue. “Sometimes it wasn’t the most flattering things being said. But they were basically muggle equivalents to the Malfoys, so you shouldn’t listen to them,” Hermione finished.

“Muggles have Malfoys too?” Ron said, sounding a little shocked.

“I’m afraid the Wizarding world doesn’t have a monopoly on rich inbred bigots, no,” Hermione said.

“What do I say to Madam Pomfrey, anyway? I mean, she’s nice and all, but how could I bring up the potion?” Harry said.

“Well, you know so long as you don’t say the specific potion and let her fill in the gaps, I think you’d be alright actually. She basically never gets kids in trouble so long as they come to her when someone’s hurt. Say, Hermione - what do they mean by ‘partner’ in that letter? Doesn’t sound like a business partner,” Ron said.

“His, um, romantic partner. Mr. Chen. They can’t get married, so...” Hermione said, blushing a little.

“Oh, I’ve got a cousin like that. Lives with a nice lady, Mum invites them round to dinner sometimes. Says neither of them can cook,” Ron said, shaking his head.

“Huh,” Harry said. She’d known about couples like that, of course, but mostly through her relatives’ snide comments. She habitually believed the opposite of whatever the Dursleys said, but it was nice to have confirmation.

Later that day, the trio headed down to the Hospital Wing. Aside from the petrified students and Madam Pomfrey, no one else was there. Hermione looked at Harry.

“Would you like me to explain, at least about the potion, Harry?” Hermione asked, and Harry felt relieved. It would be an awkward enough conversation without having to talk about the potion.

“Yeah, thanks Hermione,” Harry said.

“And what are you three doing in here? I know Mr Potter is a frequent guest, but I’d rather hoped not to see him again this year,” Pomfrey said, though she smiled at the three of them. She could be brisque, but she was generally a friendly sort.

“Out of, um, academic curiosity I may have brewed a potion capable of turning one person into another physically for a short time, and Harry may have tried some, as a female student, and been quite distressed-” Hermione said.

“Found being a girl quite distressing, Potter? Not to worry, that’s normal - and you should start to feel better now that you’ve changed back,” Pomfrey said.

“N-no, Madam Pomfrey. I only started to feel bad after it ended,” Harry said, nervously. It was an embarrassing thing to talk about, especially to an adult.

“After it ended? And you felt no distress during the transformation?” Pomfrey said, sounding quite bewildered.

“Y-yeah. It was kind of - kind of nice,” Harry said, nervously.

“Well, I’ve seen quite a few students who ignored the warnings and tried out some polyjuice - and don’t think I don’t know what that potion you’re referring to is young lady - it’s mostly been for the distress caused by the transformation. Not for any who were distressed it ended. I must admit I don’t know what this could mean, but why don’t you two go wait outside and I’ll ask Harry here a few more questions,” Pomfrey said, and Ron and Hermione exited the Hospital Wing.

Madam Pomfrey then went on to ask Harry a few embarrassing questions about her experience with the polyjuice potion, and then took an old tome from a glass-fronted cabinet.

“Now, I think there may be some records - ah, here we are. Celestina Harrow, a well-known medi-witch from the seventeenth century who wrote in her diary that she was ‘born with the body of a wizard, but upon taking the form of a friend with polyjuice felt quite strongly that she should instead have that of a witch’. Does that sound like your feelings, Potter?”

Harry paused for a moment. It was a big question - but she’d already come this far. It was the same sort of logic that made her press on against the defences of the Philosopher’s Stone last year - a perhaps foolhardy sort of courage. But then, Harry thought, the sorting hat had put her in Gryffindor for a reason.

“Maybe not in those words, but yeah,” Harry said.

“Well, you’re lucky I needed to look up Harrow’s Mandrake Draught recently! Unfortunately whatever she did to address that feeling isn’t in this volume, and she was quite the private person... still, it’s a start. Just one last question... you haven’t by chance made it up the stairs of the girl’s dormitories recently, have you?”

“I did a few days ago. I didn’t know about the defences at the time, though,” Harry said.

“An interesting bit of magic Gryffindor put into his tower. Old fashioned chap, but he spelled it to work off of self-perception after a couple of lads took some polyjuice to beat it. Professor Flitwick usually tells that story in OWL year, so make sure you act surprised Potter. In any case, I will need to consult with some others before I have something for you, without mentioning your name, but we should be able to work something out,” Pomfrey said, and Harry felt a wave of relief wash over her. Neither the muggle nor the wizarding world had offered an immediate solution, but it seemed like there would be one in time to stop her from growing a beard or a deep voice - or anything awful of that sort.

“So how’d it go, mate?” Ron asked as they walked back to the tower.

“Pomfrey found out someone it’d happened to before, the Witch who invented the Mandrake draught! She doesn’t know what that witch did, but she thinks she might be able to help me in a little while,” Harry said, beaming.

“I think that’s the happiest you’ve been all - what’s all this water?” Hermione said as they rounded a corner.

“Moaning Mrytle’s flooded her bathroom again, most likely,” Ron said.

“We should probably go calm her down,” Harry said, feeling sorry for the ghost. She might be annoying, but Harry reckoned being Moaning Myrtle would be a pretty unpleasant existence. The trio held up their robes and ventured past the corridor where Filtch’s cat had been petrified, and then into the bathroom itself.

“Who’s come to throw things at - oh, it’s you three. Feeling alright, Harry?” Myrtle said, which threw Harry completely off guard.

“Um, yeah. Thanks, Myrtle. Were people throwing things at you?” Harry asked.

“Here I was, minding my own business, and someone threw a book at me! Who throws a book at someone minding their own business in a U-bend, honestly?” Myrtle said, and Harry looked over in the direction that Myrtle pointed. There was a sleek black book lying there, the title side down. The strangest thing about it, though, was that it seemed to be completely dry. Indeed, Harry saw how the water seemed to be held just away from it.

“That’s... odd,” Hermione said, as she picked the book up.

“Are you crazy Hermoine? That could be dangerous!” Ron shouted, knocking the book out of her hands. Hermoine looked up in surprise before she put her hands to her mouth in horror.

“Oh, how could I forget - what if it had been like Sonnets of a Sorcerer and I’d spent the rest of my life only being able to speak in limericks,” Hermione said.

“I was more thinking about the kind that burnt your eyes out - or the Egyptian ones my brother Bill’s told me about. They do all sorts of nasty stuff to you,” Ron said.

“Well, Hermione picked it up and nothing happened to her - so that should be safe enough,” Harry said, as she exclaimed the book more closely. It had landed title side up, this time. It was a diary from fifty years ago - and Harry felt her blood run cold.

“Ron, Hermione... look at this. It’s a diary from nineteen forty-two - fifty years ago!” Harry said.

“So it’s an old diary, maybe whoever owned it cursed it-” Ron began, only for Hermione to interrupt him.

“Oh of course! Ron, Malfoy said that the Chamber was last opened fifty years ago and that the Heir at the time framed Hagrid for it!”

“I dunno Hermione, framed Hagrid for it? I thought Malfoy was just trying to impress Pansy,” Ron said.

“Probably, but I think he was repeating more of what his dad told him than he might have been allowed to,” Harry said, and she picked the Diary up. Nothing exploded. She flipped it open and saw only a name scrawled into the inside cover - Tom Marvolo Riddle. The rest of the pages were blank.

“Why’d someone enchant a fifty-year-old diary without anything written in it, then try and chuck it down a toilet?” Ron asked.

“I dunno, but there’s something about it... I don’t think it’s just an empty diary,” Harry said, as the three of them headed up to the common room.

Chapter 5: Year Two, Chapter Five

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“I’ve tried everything I could think of, Harry,” Hermione said as she put her Revealer away. It was a magical gadget that made little sparks and revealed invisible ink, but it had found nothing on the pages of Tom Riddle’s diary.

None of their spells, nor even Hermione’s Revealer could make anything show up on the blank pages of the diary. It seems Tom Riddle had bought a diary from a shop on Vauxhall Road, enchanted it against danger, and then forgotten about it. Harry still didn’t think it was a coincidence, she couldn’t think of anything else to try.

“I bet you Riddle was just a forties version of Percy and enchanted all his books, Harry. Have you seen the size of his trophy in the trophy room?” Ron said, and Harry shook her head in surprise.

“He has a trophy in there?” Harry asked.

“For ‘Special Services to the School’. Sounds like a right tosser, if you ask me,” Ron said, and Harry felt inclined to agree with him. Hermione pursed her lips in a look of disapproval. Harry stashed the book deep in her trunk, convinced that there was something more to it, and the excitement of the Christmas holidays soon distracted her.

She and her friends spent their time playing wizard’s chess, getting into snowball fights with the Weasleys and only worrying a little over the Heir of Slytherin. Harry’s life was, without thinking Malfoy was plotting to kill her friends, nice enough that she felt little drive to investigate further. She thought back to little Colin Creevy, lying petrified, and was occasionally guilty - but nothing she tried on the diary worked, and she had no further leads.

Soon enough, several weeks had passed and the holiday came to an end. Students filled the halls once more, and Harry found herself back in the Hospital Wing, looking rather nervously up at Madam Pomfrey.

“Now, Potter, the muggle doctor Granger’s parents were able to put me in touch with managed to give me a few ideas. While I can’t give you something to make your problem better, I can give you something that will stop it from getting worse. A simple potion, taken once a week, that will prevent any progress through a male puberty. Does that sound like it would help for now?” Pomfrey said, and Harry beamed. It wasn’t what she really wanted, but just knowing that it wasn’t going to get worse - that was enough for now.

“Definitely,” Harry said, eagerly.

“Good. You should find doses on your bedside table every Sunday morning from now on. Hopefully, you won’t need to take these for too long - I think I have something that would allow you to experience female puberty almost right, but I’ll need to make certain it works before giving it to you. Anything further is a bit beyond my skills, I’m afraid, but you are lucky to attend a school run by a very open-minded master of transfiguration and alchemy,” Pomfrey said.
“You didn’t tell Professor Dumbledore about me, did you?” Harry asked, worried. She’d die of embarrassment.

“I told him it was for a student, but nothing more. He, of course, knew what that muggle word - ‘transgender’ meant without me explaining it to him. Where he finds the time...” Pomfrey muttered as she got a small clear glass of cherry-red potion out. Harry drank it eagerly and was surprised to find it tasted mostly like cheap cough medicine.

“Thank you again for this, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said.

“Just doing my job, Harry dear. I’m just glad to see you in here for a good reason, rather than another near-fatal act of heroics. Now, off you scarper,” Pomfrey said, smiling. Harry eagerly left the hospital wing, to see Ron and Hermione waiting outside.

“Was she able to help you, Harry?” Hermione asked as they walked out onto the grounds to enjoy their Sunday afternoon.

“She gave me a potion to stop it getting worse-”

“Dying, are you Potter?” Draco Malfoy said in his mocking drawl.

“I’m better than ever, Malfoy. You’ll have to find some actual talent if you want to win the Cup next year,” Harry said, to even Hermione’s laughter.

“Got any letters from daddy recently?” Ron said with an evil grin. Draco went white, and he went for his wand - only for Harry to be faster.

“Expeliarmus!” she shouted, just as Snape had done to Lockhart in the duelling club. Malfoy went stumbling backwards as Harry plucked his wand out of the air. Crabbe and Goyle moved a step or two towards the trio, but Ron and Hermione had their wands out now. “Now what should I do with this?” Harry wondered allowed, then an evil grin crossed her face. “Fetch, Malfoy!” she shouted and threw the wand as far as she could across the green. He went running after it, and all three Gryffindors were reduced to tears of laughter.

“I’ll get you for this, Potter - you and your pet mudblood!” Draco shouted, but Harry found it hard to be intimidated by Draco Malfoy after finding out he wasn’t the Heir.

She wasn’t laughing a little more than a week later, however, when Hermione showed her the front page of the Daily Prophet at breakfast.

EXCLUSIVE: POTTER A PARSELTONGUE?

Explosive allegations coming out of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have rocked this reporter. It seems that the fabled Boy Who Lived is more than a hero and a Quiddich sensation - he might be a dark wizard in the making! Multiple sources - pureblood and muggle-born alike - have confirmed to this reporter that Britain’s Boy Hero displayed the dark talent during a school-sanctioned duel. Some of the students I spoke to claimed Potter was trying to stop a summoned snake from attacking another, uninvolved student, whilst others (who this reporter must sadly judge as both more numerous and more credible) claim he was “egging it on,”

This news surely raises new questions as to the events of that fateful day almost twelve years ago - is the unknown power that let our hero defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named darker in nature than some (especially Albus DUmbledore) have led us to believe? This reporter can’t answer that question right now, but it is my promise to you, our devoted readers, that I will continue to search for the truth no matter the opposition.

(Continued Page 5. More Potter News in the sports section, Page 78)

Rita Skeeter

“I bet you anything Malfoy’s behind this,” Ron said, looking a little apologetic for having started their fight a week ago.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Ron. Half the school thinks I’m the Heir of Slytherin already,” Harry said, focusing on arranging her bacon, toast, and eggs into a sandwich.

“This could be bad, Harry. Lots of people read Skeeter,” Hermione said.

“Even if they do Hermione, not like I can do anything about it,” Harry said, and then ate her sandwich. She’d need it for today’s first lesson - defence with Lockhart. He’d been making worrying rumblings lately about a ‘Valentine’s Day Pick-Me-Up’ for the school. Harry thought that there might be worse things in life, but only barely.

“Now class, today we’re going to be examining how I bravely banished the Bandon Banshee. Now we’ll need a volunteer from the girls to play the part...” Lockhart said, as just about every girl in the classroom raised their hands. Ron made an audible gagging noise, and Harry agreed with him.

After an hour of excruciatingly boring performances from one of Lockhart’s books (as all his lessons had been after the pixie incident), Harry was almost looking forward to potions.

“Ah Harry, mind hanging back for a little chat?” Lockhart said as students began to depart. Harry sighed, but sat back down. “There’s a good lad. Now, about that story in the paper - clever work my boy, clever work indeed! Why I should have seen it earlier - you’re a growing young man, and the squeaky clean hero image didn’t fit. What a way to add a little edge - you know, I’m sure I could get you a word with Rita,” Lockhart said, and Harry felt like she’d been punched in the gut. People still called her ‘Mr Potter’ and ‘he’, since the only students she’d told about her being a girl were Ron and Hermione. But this hurt.

“N-no thank you, professor,” Harry said, and scampered to leave the classroom. In her haste, though, she knocked over one of her inkpots. It went tumbling and ink-stained the bottom of her bag. She quickly managed to get her books out of harm’s way, but she felt despair as she noticed that book in the bottom of her bag. Tom Riddle’s diary was soaked with ink. Hastening from the classroom before Lockhart could try and help her, Harry noticed with fascination as the ink seemed to be sucked up into the diary.

Harry suddenly felt very stupid for not trying to write in the diary before now. She’d have to catch up with Ron and Hermione, and then they could test it out that night.

Late that night, the three of them sat in their pyjamas around a table in the common room, lit by the dying fire. Everyone else had gone to bed, and so they had an excellent chance to examine the diary.

“Are you sure about this, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“I saw it suck up the ink... I think we should at least try writing in it,” Harry said.

“Don’t blame me if you end up cursed, mate,” Ron said. Harry rolled her eyes, dipped her quill in some more secure ink, and began to write.

“My name is -” she began, only to pause. Harry was a boy’s name. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to change it, especially since there wasn’t an easy female equivalent, but it still felt a little odd. -” Harry Potter,” she continued. Maybe she could talk to Hagrid, find out if her parents had had any names ready for a girl, she thought.

All three of them felt their eyes go wide as the ink sunk into the page, and new words formed in reply.

“Hello, Harry. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?” it asked, and Harry looked at Ron and Hermione.

“I told you we should write in it!” Harry said with a grin.

“Blimey, that’s not something you see every day. How’s it doing that, Hermione?” Ron asked.

“I... I don’t know, Ronald,” Hermione said.

“I found it in a toilet. Someone threw it at a ghost,” Harry wrote.

“Then it is to both our good fortune that I recorded my memories in a form far more durable than ink and paper. That there would be those who did not want others to hear the truth - the truth I wrote of in this diary - was something I expected,”

“What do you mean, Tom?” Harry asked.

“This diary was written in a dark year - for the world as a whole, of course, and yet also for Hogwarts. War did not touch us in these hallowed halls, but darkness did - and there are those who would do terrible deeds to prevent that truth from being known,”

“I’m - we’re at Hogwarts now. My friends Hermione and Ron are with me, reading over my shoulder. We want to find out about the Chamber of Secrets.” Harry wrote. The wait for the ink to sink into the page felt almost agonising.

“I know all about the Chamber of Secrets - about how the true culprit was allowed to go free, and how the monster escaped justice,”

“Can you tell us about it?” Harry wrote, her handwriting messy from excitement.

“No.”

“But I can show you.” Riddle wrote, and Harry found herself pulled forward by some invisible force. She seemed to almost be sucked into the Diary, and then there was a flash of bright light. When it faded, she found herself, Ron, and Hermione standing in an oddly grey Hogwarts corridor.

“Where are we?” Harry wondered as she looked around, and then she noticed where she was. Dumbledore’s office, but with all trace of whimsy wiped away. Gone were the whirling knick-nacks, the bright spinning orbs, the phoenix. Leatherbound books in neatly ordered rows replaced them, most of them clearly never read.

In Dumbledore’s place sat a man she’d never seen before. No, she had seen him once before - as a portrait in Dumbledore’s office. Then things began to move. She heard Riddle talk with Dippet, saw him descend down into the dungeons, and confront Hagrid. Saw him raise his wand and say ‘Bombarda’ in his cruel drawl, saw Hagrid leap in front of the curse to protect a dog-sized spider. Saw Riddle try to curse the spider once more, and miss.

Then, with jarring suddenness, Harry found herself and her friends back at the common room table. Harry felt cold. Combined with what she’d learnt from Malfoy... the diary trying to show her that vision could only mean one thing.

“Fifty years ago... it was Riddle,” Harry said, not quite believing it. He’d sounded so noble as the diary, but she couldn’t see any other way Hagrid could have been framed. Riddle had opened the Chamber of Secrets, killed someone, and gotten away with it.

“Must have been. Only one question though, Harry. Where’s the diary?” Ron asked, and they all looked down. Where the diary had been sitting was only a spilled inkpot, and a rapidly drying stain.

Notes:

I'm not going to repeat scenes that would just be word for word from the books.

Chapter 6: Year Two, Chapter Six

Chapter Text

“It can’t have just got up and moved by itself,” Harry said.

“Obviously not. Someone had to have taken it while it was showing us the memory - maybe that’s why it cut off so suddenly,” Hermione said.

“I dunno... if Riddle really did do it, there might be something right after him cursing Hagrid that he didn’t want us to see,” Ron said, slowly. Harry and Hermione’s eyes widened.

“I think you’re dead-on, Ron,” Harry said.

“That still begs the question - who stole the diary?” Hermione said.

“Who’d want to steal a blank diary?” Ron asked.

“The Heir of Slytherin,” Hermione said, her face pale.

“But a Slytherin can’t have gotten up here,” Harry said, although as she said it she knew what Hermione’s answer would be.

“Then the Heir of Slytherin is in Gryffindor,” Hermione said.

“Come off it, Hermione. The Heir can’t be a Gryffindor - the Hat would send him straight to Slytherin,” Ron said.

“He might have asked to come here,” Harry said, quietly. She’d been too afraid to reveal this before, but holding onto it felt a little silly now that she had shared a much deeper secret.

“What do you mean, asked? You can do that?” Ron said.

“The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, but the only Slytherin I knew then was Malfoy, so I asked it to put me in Gryffindor,” Harry said. She looked at Ron and Hermione and was relieved to see that they didn’t seem to be taking it too badly.

“Not every dark wizard was from Slytherin, you know. You-Kno-Who’s second in command was a Gryffindor, you know,” Hermione said. Harry and Ron’s eyes widened.

“I never knew that,” Ron said.

“I guess we just need to keep an eye out for anyone acting oddly, then. And at least the diary gave us a few clues - we know who opened the chamber last time, and we know what House the Heir is in this time. We’d never have known he was a Gryffindor if he hadn’t stolen the diary,” Harry said.

“Well if it is a student... I reckon you might have had the right idea about duelling, Harry. Do either of you know what spell we were supposed to learn to protect ourselves at the duelling club?” Ron asked. Harry didn’t know, but she did give Ron’s words some thought. Though she didn’t rate her chances against a Seventh Year in a straight duel, Harry thought her stunner could probably knock even an adult out now - she’d gotten quite good at it when she’d practised it to stun Pansy.

The Heir of Slytherin was a mysterious figure who could conjure monsters and fling deadly curses, but Harry thought she could probably stun anybody else in Gryffindor tower in the back if she had her cloak on.

“I think I know a few, but even the easiest one is a third-year charm - and a proper shield spell is OWL level magic,” Hermione said.

“Well, I won’t manage it - especially not with this thing,” Ron said as he held up his broken wand. “But maybe you two could learn it. Might be a good idea, living in the same tower as the Heir and all,”

None of them could disagree. In the end, they only occasionally practised the charms - homework and fun kept them far busier than they had been on the Christmas holidays. Harry and Hermione could deflect schoolyard jinxes and occasionally a disarming spell, but not one of their stunning spells. Harry wasn’t keen to try out her defensive spells against the kind of dark curses the Heir was likely to know (though she was still confident in her ‘stun them from under the cloak’ plan).

Despite the tension running throughout the school, the worst thing to happen in February was Lockhart’s Valentines Day celebration. Harry was inundated with singing valentines, all of which contained truly awful poetry. She did feel sorry for Ginny Weasley - while Ginny’s was just as bad, she was just a star-struck kid. Harry didn’t think she deserved being publicly humiliated for writing it.

Harry and her friends tried to keep an eye out for the Heir, but none of the Gryffindors seemed to fit. The trio quickly stopped following older students around under the cloak if they looked like they were sneaking off somewhere - Harry hadn’t been aware that there was quite that much snogging going on at Hogwarts. She really didn’t want to see Percy Weasly kissing Penelope Clearwater that passionately ever again.

February turned to March, and then to April, and there were still no attacks. Harry had even begun to regain some social standing, and she half wondered whether the Heir had just given up. Maybe he’d grabbed Riddle’s diary back and decided that one close call was enough. That was Ron’s theory, though Harry didn’t think so.

As their Easter holidays started, Harry and her fellow Second-Years were given something new to think about. Forms for choosing their third-year electives had been given out. It suddenly seemed as if every relative, older sibling, and prefect in the world had begun to bombard them with advice. Hermione listened to none of it and simply signed up for every class.

“Urghh. I can’t believe we have to take more classes,” Ron said, as he and Harry poured over the lists of classes and their descriptions. Hermione was sitting next to them, her own form already filled in.

“Well, all of them are useful. Ancient runes is a little dry, but most permanent magic in Europe is still done in them - and Arithmancy is used in everything from professional Quidditch to spell creation,” Hermoine said. Harry’s felt drawn to the word ‘Quidditch’. Magical maths sounded a little intimidating, but she’d been pretty good at maths back in primary school. And, Harry thought to herself, making her own spells sounded like it could be cool. “Care of Magical Creatures speaks for itself of course, and though Divination is a little... unreliable, most scholars do think it works. I wouldn’t recommend Muggle Studies for you, Harry, but it might be good for you, Ron,” Hermione said.

“If I have a question about Muggles, I could just ask you or Harry,” Ron said, and Hermione smiled.

“Well, yes. But that means we could always help you with your homework,” Hermione said. Harry thought that was a particularly devious little argument on Hermione’s part.

“You’re a genius, Hermione! Let’s just put Magical Creatures as my second subject... what are you taking, Harry?” Ron asked.

“I’m trying to decide between Arithmancy, Magical Creatures, and Divination,” Harry said. All of them sounded interesting to her - telling the future sounded like it could come in handy one day, and given all the monsters she ran into on a yearly basis, knowing a little more about them sounded like a good idea.

“You know, it’s not uncommon to take three electives. You could just take them all, Harry,” Hermione said. Harry looked down at her form and considered. It would be more work, but she had found her classes and homework to not be too bad this term. Now that she wasn’t feeling so weighed down by her bad feelings about her gender, she’d rediscovered a little bit of the excitement she’d felt reading her textbooks before coming to Hogwarts. She wasn’t nearly as devoted to studying as Hermione was, but three electives didn’t sound too bad.

“Yeah, I think I’ll do that,” Harry said, marking them down on her form.

“Taking three electives? That’s a bit of a risk, mate. What if you hate one and have to keep it for years?” Ron asked.

“You can drop one if you don’t like it - you’re only required to take two,” Hermione explained. Ron looked down at his form and marked Runes a little shyly.
“Bill said the stuff about enchantments and wards and stuff was important,” Ron said, blushing a little.

“Isn’t he a curse breaker?” Hermione asked, interested.

“He was also about as devoted to homework as you, Hermione, so I don’t think I’ll be breaking into pyramids for the Egyptian ministry after Hogwarts... but maybe I could do some of the easier ones. Go and break into old Roman ruins here or something. Still sounds pretty fun,” Ron said. Harry didn’t know what being a curse breaker meant, but it sounded exciting. Still, she thought her most likely option for a career after Hogwarts was probably ‘Professional Quidditch Player’. Although maybe she could hunt dark wizards for a job or something - she seemed to run into enough of them that maybe she should get paid for it.

She briefly entertained a daydream of Harry Potter, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies, English Seeker and part-time Dark Wizard Fighter. She’d win the World Cup and catch a dark lord for good measure.

“Harry?” Ron asked.

“What - sorry, what’d you say Ron?” Harry asked.

“Nevermind. At least we have Care of Magical Creatures together, though. That sounds like it could be fun,” Ron said, and Harry nodded. She then went back to her very pleasant daydream. Maybe she’d have a rivalry with the very pretty French seeker...

Soon enough, though, a real Quidditch match turned up. Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff - and Hufflepuff had a new Seeker. Cedric Diggory was rumoured to be much better than their previous seeker, and Harry was actually a little worried. She had been trained into the ground by Wood, and it ate up so much time that she hadn’t tried to think of who the Heir might be in weeks. She, Ron and Hermione headed up to Gryffindor Tower on the day of the match - it was almost eleven already, and Harry would have to fly down to the pitch if she wanted to get changed in time.

Then Harry heard a familiar voice, and her blood ran cold.

“Kill this time... let me rip, let me tear!”

“Ron, Hermione - I just heard it again. I heard the voice again!” Harry said, loudly.

“I don’t hear anything-” Ron began, only for Hermione to interrupt him.

“I’ve just - I need to go to the library right now!” Hermione said, looking very much like she’d just figured something out and felt very stupid for not doing so much earlier.

“Wait, Hermione - you and Ron should go together. The Heir knows we had the diary,” Harry said, and her two friends nodded.

“Good thinking, mate. You go thump Hufflepuff and we’ll handle this, yeah?” Ron said, and then her two friends went running towards the library.

“Just in time, Potter!” Wood shouted as Harry rushed out of the changing rooms with her Quidditch robes on. The team walked out onto the pitch, only to find pandemonium waiting for them. Students were rushing from the stands, and the teachers seemed to be leading them in the evacuation. Professor McGonagall

“The match has been cancelled,” McGonagall said, her voice oddly soft. “Wood, take the team back to the tower - in the air, as quick as you can. Harry... I think you should come with me,” she continued, and Harry felt confused. What had happened to cause all this, she wondered.

When she got to the Hospital Wing, she felt sick. There, lying with the other petrified students, were Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Guilt raged through her. She’d sent Ron with Hermione, gotten him petrified - and she’d let Hermione go without her. She sat numbly between their beds, staring up at the ceiling. It didn’t seem real.

“They were carrying mirrors, Potter. Do you know why?” McGonagall asked, but Harry just shook her head. She couldn’t understand why they’d been doing that, but something about that mystery knocked her out of her daze. Numbness was replaced by rage. Harry no longer wanted to catch the Heir - she wanted to kill him. She thought back to the curse Riddle had used in the diary; how it had sent Hagrid flying and blown apart stone. She thought about the books she’d seen in the restricted section in her first year. When she found whoever had hurt Ron and Hermione, she wasn’t going to use stunning spells and disarming charms.

Harry wiped away her tears and stood up. She’d let herself be distracted from finding the Heir for too long, and her friends had paid the price.

Chapter 7: Year Two, Chapter Seven

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Harry spent that night in the Restricted Section, under her invisibility cloak. She had a thick, old tome open and was copying down any spells that looked like they’d be useful for killing the Heir. She held her lit wand in her left hand whilst she copied spells down into a notebook she’d found in Hermione’s bag with her right. She’d checked out all the non-restricted books on duelling, and the upper-year DADA textbooks from previous years, she could during normal hours. Now she needed information on the sort of spells she couldn’t find in a textbook. Cutting curses, bone-breaking hexes, blasting curses - and darker still.

She did that, and relentlessly drilled the spells whenever she could get away, for a week. Her grades in class began to suffer from her singular focus, but she didn’t care. She cast over and over again, sneaking out of the lockdown the school was under with her cloak. Some of the spells - the darker ones - she couldn’t quite cast. Still, Harry blasted apart disused furniture, scorched walls with gouts of flame and more. She wanted to get the drop on the Heir with her cloak, but Harry knew that might not happen. She’d started to work on her shield charm, one of the few new spells she could openly practise, when an owl from Madam Pomfrey arrived.

Harry felt joy for the first time in a week, and then she felt guilt run through her. Ron and Hermione were petrified because she’d focused on snowball fights and wizard’s chess instead of catching the Heir. She couldn’t let anything distract her from her mission - but then, having to pretend to be a boy still hurt. It was slowing her down, a constant pain in her heart that stopped her from pushing hard enough.

She knew she was justifying going to herself. Harry knew that she wanted, more than anything, to go. Ron and Hermione would be really mad at me for not going, Harry thought. They’d be mad at her for a lot of things she was doing lately.

Harry walked into the Hospital Wing that night with bags under her eyes and a heavy heart. Visitors were no longer allowed, so Madam Pomfrey was the only one in the Hospital Wing. Harry noticed that the door to her office was closed though, and the blinds were down.

“I know it hurts, Miss Potter, but I’ll have your friends back up soon,” Pomfrey said, as she saw Harry walk in. Being called Miss Potter felt good enough that, even now, Harry could smile. No one had ever called her that before - though Ron and Hermione used ‘she’ and ‘her’ to refer to Harry when they were alone. “Now, as to helping you. I’ve managed to perfect the potion I talked about - the one that would give you a female puberty. It’s similar to the one you currently take, but much more effective - you will only need one dose a month. Now, you will need a dose a month until a better solution could be found and it will have some irreversible effects. I’d like you to read this list thoroughly, and tell me if you still want it afterwards,” Pomfrey said.

“Okay, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said, and started to read the list. She immediately began to blush - some of the effects were not the sort of thing she wanted to read about with a matronly adult watching her. She read the whole thing through, paused for a moment, and then nodded. “I - I would like to take it, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said.

“I thought you would, but best to sure for something like this. A dose will be waiting for you at the usual time. Now, I should caution you that this potion will only work at the speed of normal puberty, so it will take some time for you to feel any effects. That’s also why I wanted to address another way to help you, if you feel up to it,” Pomfrey said.

“Um, what way would that be?” Harry asked.

“Well, you’re going to have to at some point, but I’d like you to consider starting to wear the girl’s uniform, perhaps more feminine casual clothes, and move to the girl’s dorms,” Pomfrey said. Harry felt a surge of contrasting emotions rush through her - shame, fear, joy.

“W-would that be allowed?” Harry asked.

“It would, but you’d need to speak to your Head of House and the Headmaster. Do you feel ready for that?” Pomfrey asked, her usual brusque bedside manner gone. Her voice was gentle, but not condescending. Harry didn’t feel talked down to by the medi-witch, just comforted.

“If - if I can start doing that, then yeah,” Harry said, gathering her courage. It was hard to be brave all the time, to not give in to fear of the Heir. She was getting tired, but she had to press on. She couldn’t back down now. Pomfrey nodded and opened the door to her office. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were sitting on comfy armchairs inside. Two more sat empty.

“Do come in and join us, Miss Potter. Would you care for some tea? Hot chocolate, maybe?” Dumbledore asked. Harry felt a little shocked at Dumbledore’s expression of only mild surprise. She’d have thought for sure he’d have either been shocked or have already known.

“Um, tea please,” Harry said, and sat down in one of the armchairs. Dumbledore snapped his fingers, and a mug of tea appeared on a small table next to her chair.

“Now Mr - Miss Potter, you do prefer Miss?” McGonagall asked, and Harry nodded. “Miss Potter, Madam Pomfrey has told me about your condition without mentioning your name. She has asked me to allow you to move to the girl’s dormitories and to wear a more appropriate uniform. She’s also told me the stairs let you up,”

“Um, yes Professor,” Harry said, feeling a little sheepish.

“Well, far be it from to disagree with the magic of Hogwarts. Still, you are ready for others to not be so understanding?” McGonagall asked.

“Half the school’s just stopped believing I’m the Heir of Slytherin. I can deal with them, Professor,” Harry said.

“Well, I must admit I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Miss Potter. No, I don’t think any of us can doubt your courage. I assume you don’t have said uniform or clothes?” McGonagall asked.

“Hermione let me borrow one of her old ones, but I don’t have enough to wear every day,” Harry said. McGonagall nodded, waved her wand, and a tape measure flew out of the end and began to measure Harry.

“I’ll have some Owl Ordered and ready for you there, then. One of your roommates should have an Owl Order catalogue for more casual clothes,”

“Thanks, Professor,” Harry said, and she meant it. She was smiling now, really smiling, for the first time in a week. She knew she’d still hurt whenever she went to speak to Ron in class and he wasn’t there, or when she expected to sit across from Hermione in the Great Hall and found an unfamiliar face there. Ron and Hermione would be back by term’s end, though, and Harry promised herself that the Heir would be dead by then too.

“I believe that is mine and Poppy’s roles concluded. We should have things ready for you to move in tomorrow afternoon, Miss Potter. Do take care of yourself, though. Ronald and Hermione would hardly want you to get hurt alongside them,” McGonagall said, as she and Pomfrey left. They closed the door behind themselves, and Harry wondered what Dumbledore wanted to talk to her about.

“I’m afraid most of our conversation tonight won’t be so pleasant, Miss Potter. If I may ask, do you still go by Harry?” Dumbledore said, and Harry gulped.

“F-for now, Professor,” Harry said.

“Very well, Harry. There are two things I must discuss with you, and I have limited time in which to do so. We shall start with the least serious, that being your nightly excursions to the restricted section,” Dumbledore said, and Harry felt dread. How - she’d been wearing her invisibility cloak the entire time! “The knowledge there is kept secure for a reason, and unlike previous headmasters, I have made certain even students most talented at subterfuge like yourself cannot simply wander in. Also, my dear, the House Elves have been complaining about you smashing up their spare furniture,”

“I’m sorry about the furniture, Professor,” Harry said, sure she was going to be expelled. Panic gripped her at that thought - would she lose her potions?

“I understand why you wish to hurt the Heir of Slytherin, Harry. Wanting to stop him, hurt him even, is understandable. Some of the books you have read... do concern me greatly. I was relieved, then, to see what spells you chose to practice. You have not turned to the dark arts - not truly. I wish I could shield you from this - give you a normal childhood. But to ignore what has happened these last two years would be folly. If you swear to me that you will cast no spell that requires you to hate, I will happen to leave that pass to the restricted section you see on the desk behind,” Dumbledore said, and Harry blinked. That... that was not what she’d been expecting. Some of the spells she’d read about fit Dumbledore’s description, and she’d only tried a few of the lesser ones. She’d mostly failed to cast them, but some of them had worked.

“I swear, Professor,” Harry said, looking Dumbledore straight in the eye.

“Then please, listen to an old man’s advice. I had hoped to spare your generation from this, from the horrors of bloodshed. I have killed men, Harry. Men with hopes, with dreams, and ones they loved. With mothers who cried over their broken bodies, and children who cried for fathers they never met. Most of them were men who fought for a cause as evil as Voldemort’s, and yet I had wished they had not died. I wished I had not killed them,” Dumbledore said, and Harry avoided his gaze. What could she say, she thought. He was right - and yet she still felt the rage inside her, the desire to see the Heir suffer and die.

“I - I’ll think about it, sir,” Harry said.

“That is all I ask, Harry. You have a better heart than most, and better judgement than I had at your age. That brings us, then, to the second topic I must discuss with you. One I must begin with an apology - I have failed you, Harry. I did not watch the Dursleys closely enough. I thought they were merely cold to you, but both Miss Hermione Granger and Mr Ronald Weasly sent me letters before they were petrified quite rightly calling me out for allowing you to continue staying there. Did Vernon or Petunia ever hit you?” Dumbledore asked, and Harry felt shame at the mention of the Dursleys. She wanted to be angry with Hermione for interfering, but all she could feel was hope that she might not have to go back.

“Not my Aunt and Uncle. They let Dudley beat me up, though,” Harry said.

“I see. And is it true that you had to be rescued by the Weasley boys after your relatives tried to imprison you in your room?” Dumbledore asked, his voice kind. As he spoke, though, Harry’s mug rattled.

“Yes, Professor. Does this means I don’t have to go back?” Harry asked, looking quite intently at the floor.

“If you were any other child, if Lilly’s sacrifice had not saved your life several times over... but no longer shall I allow you to be there alone. And I will be having words with your Aunt and Uncle,” Dumbledore said, his voice calm and yet somehow more threatening than the loudest yell. Harry felt herself smile as she imagined that conversation.

“How long do I have to stay there?” Harry asked.

“Only until the sunrise on your birthday. That will maintain your mother’s protection. After that, I’m sure Molly Weasley or others will be able to see you have a far more pleasant summer holiday... but I will not force you to go back. I will provide you secure lodging with a trusted guardian if you do not wish to go back,” Dumbledore said.

“I won’t have my mother’s protection without going back?” Harry asked.

“You would not,” Dumbledore said, seriously.

“Then I’ll go back. Thank you for giving me the choice, Professor.” Harry said.

“I learnt the folly, and indeed the evil, of trying to force others to act for the greater good a long time ago, Harry. Sometimes we need reminders of even hard earnt lessons,” Dumbledore said, and there was a knocking at the door. It was three orderly wraps with something metal. “Do come in, Lucius,” Dumbledore said. Harry turned around in surprise as she saw Lucius Malfoy walk through the open door.

“What a... pleasant surprise, Potter,” Lucius Malfoy said, as he took a small sealed letter from his coat pocket. “Well, I shall get straight to the point - this is an Order of Suspension, Dumbledore. After an attack on a member of the Sacred Twenty Eight, well, all twelve of us thought that it was clear you could no longer ensure the safety of this school,” Malfoy said, trying and failing not to grin.

“If the Board of Governors truly wish for my removal, then I shall certainly comply. However, you will find that I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me. You will also find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it,” Dumbledore said, looking at Harry directly. She nodded in understanding.

“How touching. I shall walk you to your carriage, Dumbledore,” Malfoy said. Harry gave him a very rude gesture when he turned his back, pocketed the pass to the restricted section, and left the Hospital Wing. For the first time in a week, she fell asleep at a reasonable time. She woke to find the school abuz with rumour. Her heart dropped as she heard that not only had Dumbledore been sacked - Hagrid had been arrested!

The next afternoon, Harry got dressed in the uniform Hermione lent her and walked up the stairs to the girl’s dormitories. She felt nervous, but not afraid. She found Lavander Brown, Parvati Patil, and Lilly Moon all looking curiously at the new bed and furniture in their room.

“McGonagall was a little vague. Do you know - Harry!?” Lavender shouted.

“H-how did you get up here?” Lily asked.

“Why are you wearing a girl’s uniform?” Parvati asked.

“B-because I am a girl,” Harry said, flushing but not looking away.

“What do you mean?” Lavender asked, perplexed.

“Even though I, um, was born with a boy’s body it was wrong for me. It felt like - it was awful,” Harry said.

“And the stairs let you up?” Parvati asked.

“Yeah. I’ve been, um talking to Madam Pomfrey about it for a while. She made a potion that made sure I wouldn’t - so that I wouldn’t grow up any more like a boy. Now she’s made me one that means I’ll grow up as a girl,” Harry said, feeling like she was about to die of embarrassment.

“Even...” Lily began to ask. Harry nodded, flushing bright red.

“So you can see why I moved here,” Harry said.

“Is that why you’ve been growing your hair longer?” Parvati asked. Harry hadn’t had her hair cut in a while - it was down to her collar, now.

“Yeah,” Harry said, a little self consciously. She hated how boyish she looked, even in these clothes, but comparing herself to Lavender and Parvati was even worse.

“Will you let us do your hair? Oh, will you try some of our makeup?!” Lavender asked, and Harry blinked.

“Yes?” Harry said, and found her eyes opened to something very new to her.

Notes:

Not everyone will be as accepting as Harry's new roommates.

Chapter 8: Year Two, Chapter Eight

Notes:

TW: Transphobia and use of slurs

Chapter Text

Harry’s happiness at her new roommate’s acceptance was only able to dispel her sadness at the petrification of her friends for a short while. She was able to Owl Order some new clothes with their help and even bought a little bit of makeup. She wasn’t sure she wanted to wear it very often, but it was fun to try out.
The rest of Gryffindor tower was fairly understanding, or at least they only laughed at her behind her back. People in her own house mostly seemed to feel sorry for her. The Slytherins, on the other hand, called her all sorts of foul things whenever a teacher was out of earshot.

“Always knew you were mad, Potter, but I didn’t pick you for a perv!” Draco shouted mockingly across a hallway. Pansy Parkison and her group of sycophants giggled. Harry would usually have just said something back, or perhaps given Malfoy a rude gesture and walked away, but she was short-tempered and irritable after all her late nights.

“Why don’t you come out from behind your bodyguards and say that again, Malfoy. Or are you too afraid that when I take your wand this time, I won’t give it back?” Harry said, snarling. She had her wand out and blinked as Draco grinned.

“Detention, Mr - my apologies, Miss Potter,” Snape said, very purposefully using the wrong title. Harry knew for a fact he’d been told how to refer to her by Professor McGonagall. She hadn’t heard him approach, and she relaxed her grip on her wand as he walked into view.

Draco laughed, but it was tinged with nervousness as Harry walked away. She had quite a few more interactions like that as the news spread throughout the school, but most of the school were confused rather than anything else. Rita Skeeter published an article calling her ‘confused and hurting, but not dangerous’, which Harry thought was probably an improvement. At least nobody thought she was the Heir of Slytherin anymore.

As she was walking back from Snape’s detention on Saturday night - he had kept her scrubbing cauldrons long after the new curfew - Harry heard someone crying from the direction of the astronomy tower. Confused at who’d be out here this late, Harry pulled out her wand and cautiously made her way over to see Ginny Weasley sitting by the staircase up to the tower, crying.

“G-Ginny? What are you doing out here so late?” Harry asked.

“Go awa- Harry?” she squeaked. Ginny had clearly been crying for quite some time, and she looked about as awful as Harry.

“What’s wrong, Ginny? Is it about Ron?” Harry asked quietly, sitting down next to her. All the Weasleys had dealt with Ron being petrified in their own ways. The Twins had been humourless for almost a week before they returned with even bigger smiles, and managed to get several toilet seats near Ron’s bed in the hospital wing. Percy had become even stricter, whilst Ginny had become quieter. Not that she hadn’t already been quiet.
“”S-sort of. I don’t... I don’t want to talk about it,” Ginny said, not looking at Harry.

“If you change your mind, you know you can talk to me, yeah? Anyway, we better get going - it’s not safe to be out late at night these days,” Harry said, getting up and holding out a hand to Ginny, who looked confused for a moment. Then she took Harry’s hand and hugged her. Not really sure of what to make of that, the two of them walked back to Gryffindor tower in silence.

The next morning, as Harry got dressed for class, she found something odd in the pocket of her robes. It was a slip of parchment that read ‘It’s in Myrtle’s Bathroom’. Harry thought for a moment that it was something Hermione had written back when they were making the polyjuice potion, but the handwriting was all wrong and the parchment too intact. Had Ginny put it in there, she wondered. Harry resolved to find the first-year girl and ask.

She couldn’t find her in the tower, and so Harry thought she’d try and find her during breakfast. First, Harry decided, she’d pay Ron and Hermione a visit. It wasn’t technically allowed, but Harry took her cloak everywhere with her these days. She brooded in the hospital wing for a little bit, but when she got up to go to breakfast she saw something odd. Hermione had a ripped out page from a book scrunched up in her hand, and Harry had failed to notice it before. For Hermione to defile a book it had to be important, Harry thought. She took out the page and read.

“Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken’s egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.”

Hermione had written and underlined one word on the torn out page - ‘pipes’. The pieces suddenly began to fit together for Harry, and the bit of parchment Ginny had slipped into her robes began to make a sick sort of sense. A girl had died the last time the chamber had been opened. Moaning Myrtle wore clothing from the right era and glasses. Surely, Harry thought, whoever was doing the petrifying had to not be killing the students on purpose at this point - maybe Myrtle had stumbled over Riddle and his Basilisk and died for it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a booming voice, broadcast all over the castle via a spell Harry didn’t know.

“All students to their Common Rooms at once. All teachers to the staffroom immediately. Prefects, conduct headcounts,” McGonagall’s voice said, loud enough to shake Harry’s bones. She, of course, did not head to her common room - instead, she put on her cloak and sneaked the short distance to the staffroom. Luck had placed Harry much closer to the staffroom than any of the teachers, and so she was able to hide in a closet before any of them arrived.

Harry listened with growing horror as the teachers talked about a student taken into the chamber, the closure of the school, the fact that Ginny’s skeleton would ‘Lie in the Chamber Forever’. Then the staff seemed to turn as one to Lockhart.

“Well, Gilderoy, until the Ministry get here you are charged with defending this castle. Weren’t you saying just last week that you were sure you had located the chamber?” McGonagall said.

“Well, I-”

“And you told me last week you were sure of what was inside!” Flitwick said.

“If I might-”

“Weren’t you complaining about not getting a crack at the monster after Hagrid was arrested?” Snape said.

“I really -”

“Well, Gilderoy - you have your chance. The Aurors should be here by tonight, so I imagine you’ll want to get cracking,” McGonagall said.

“Very - very well. I’ll just, ah, pop off to my office to prepare,” Lockhart said.

“Well, that got him out of our way. Director Bones said they could have enough teams of hit-wizards here to scour the castle by tonight, so we will keep the students in their dorms...” McGonagall began, and Harry had an idea. If she wanted to find the Heir, she’d need to do it before the Ministry - and she’d probably need some kind of distraction to sneak up on him. Lockhart would do nicely for that, she thought.

Harry snuck out of the staffroom after the meeting, took off her cloak, and hurried to Lockhart’s office. She knocked but there was no response, so she simply unlocked the door with a spell and opened it herself.

“Hello, Professor. Going somewhere?” She asked as she saw Lockhart’s things thrown all over the office and a large suitcase open on the floor.

“Ah, Mr. Potter. Now, lad, why don’t you go back to your-” Lockhart began, but Harry wasn’t going to let Lockhart speak to her like that.

“I’m not a boy, Professor,” Harry said, calmly. She did, however, have her wand on Lockhart.

“I really don’t have time to indulge you. Urgent call, got to go you see,” Lockhart said, packing as fast as he can.

“Abandoning your post, Professor? I always knew you were an idiot, but not that you were a coward and a fraud,” Harry said.

“Well, nobody would have bought my books if they didn’t think I’d done everything in them!” Lockhart said, taking something out of his trunk.

“So you just made it all up - and no one noticed?” Harry asked.

“Oh, the monsters were real. I may have jazzed the stories up a bit, but they’re based on the truth. Of course, I had to remove the memories of the real heroes - all completely unmarketable! No dress sense at all - much like the annoying little faggot in a skirt standing before me,” Lockhart said.

“You - you’ve been erasing people’s memories to sell books!?” Harry shouted, indignant.

“Guilty as charged, dear boy. Which means - OBLIVATE!” Lockhart shouted as he turned around. Harry had seen it coming, however, and all her practice paid off as she moved faster than her middle-aged teacher.

“Protego!” Harry said and the beam of blue light that shot out of Lockhart’s wand was deflected off of a shimmering shield. It hit the window and shattered it into a thousand pieces.

“Ah. Well, you’re obviously a talented kid Harry but I did get an E on my DADA N.E.W.T so-” Lockhart said.

“Stupefy,” Harry said, but Lockhart was surprisingly fast with his shielding charm. Harry had to sidestep her own spell as it was deflected, but she didn’t let up. “Confringo!” Harry shouted, the powerful blasting curse causing Lockhart’s shield to crack ominously, but not quite break.

“What the devil have you been- argh!” Lockhart shouted as Harry threw another curse at him.

“Expluso!” she yelled, and the bright blue bolt of magic slammed straight through Lockhart’s shield charm and sent him flying into the wall of his office. He hit it with a nasty crack, but he tried to get back up and so Harry simply stunned him. The jet of red light knocked Lockhart unconscious, and Harry performed a simple charm to bind him in ropes. She pocketed his wand, left a note for anyone who found him and headed off towards Myrtle’s bathroom.

“Who knew he could actually duel,” Harry said. She was a little worried that Lockhart had proved so formidable, even though he was a total fop. She really would need to catch the Heir unaware, if he was much older than her.

“Oh, it’s good to see you, Harry. Your hair looks nice,” Myrtle said as Harry entered the bathroom.

“Thank you, Myrtle. I need to ask you something urgent, about how you died,” Harry said. She blushed a little at Myrtle’s compliment.

“About how I died? It was dreadful, you know. Happened right here in this toilet,”

“Did you see anything, anyone?” Harry asked, looking around urgently.

“I heard a boy talking - that’s why I left my stall. But all I saw was a pair of eyes, right over there,” Myrtle said, and Harry followed her pointing finger. Myrtle was pointing towards one of the sinks.

Harry looked over it thoroughly and was about to ask Myrtle if she was sure when Harry saw something on the side of one of the taps - a small snake, carved right into the copper.

“Oh, that tap’s never worked right...” Myrtle said, but Harry didn’t hear it. The snake seemed to be moving, almost, and Harry felt herself moved by something more than instinct but below conscious thought.

“Open,” she commanded, and the tap glowed with white light. Sinks and stone began to move, revealing a pipe large enough for even a fully grown man to fit in. Harry had found the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

Chapter 9: Year Two, Chapter Nine

Chapter Text

Harry leapt down without hesitation, sliding down the entrance to the chamber. It winded and looped, its slope gentle and robbing her of most of her speed as it exited into a dank cave. Water dripped from the ceiling onto a bed of rodent bones, and Harry took out her wand and shrugged on her cloak. The cave had clearly been shaped by magic, the rough natural stone becoming smooth and circular.

Harry advanced cautiously, not daring to light her wand. She crept along in the darkness, flinching at every crunch of bone her shoes made on the floor. Then she saw it, lurking in the darkness. For a moment she thought she was dead, but then her nearly-exploding heart relaxed - the shape in the murky blackness was merely a snakeskin, not the basilisk. Still, Harry thought, it was huge. She’d never heard of a snake this big, not even in the magical world.

She sincerely hoped that her parseltounge would work on Slytherin’s monster because she had no other ideas as to how to fight a sixty-foot snake. Maybe if she could hit it in a vulnerable area with a powerful curse - a blasting curse to the eye, or the mouth... but she’d never hit small targets like that if she couldn’t look at the snake.

Harry walked for quite some time, her heart thumping her chest as she held herself ready to strike at any moment. The long stone tunnel ended in a curved wall of stone, seemingly carved into an entire wall of stone snakes. Emeralds glittered in their eyes, giving off an alien green light. Harry felt that same more-than-instinct that she had in Myrtle’s bathroom, and she knew instinctively that the Heir was beyond this barrier.

“Part” she commanded, and a number of the stone snakes slithered out of the way. Enough of them moved to make her a small doorway into the chamber beyond, and Harry walked through slowly.

This chamber was huge and built from great blocks of black stone. A long central pathway was flanked on either side by water and a series of statues. Eerie green flames burnt in torch brackets without fuel, casting the entire chamber into a flickering half-light. Harry barely dared to breathe as she walked down the central pathway, towards a semicircular stone area and what had to be a statue of Salazar himself.

Lying there, unconscious but alive, was Ginny Weasley. She clutched Riddle’s diary lightly with one hand, and seemed even more pale and sickly than when Harry had last seen her. Standing next to Ginny, holding a wand and facing away from Harry, was an unfamiliar boy. She thought he had black hair but in the light of the green fires, it was hard to tell colours apart.

Harry advanced like a wraith, hidden from view by her cloak. She levelled her wand, coming to within perhaps twenty feet of the boy. He had to be the Heir, Harry thought. The one who had hurt Ron and Hermione, who had kidnapped Ginny. Harry’s wand was the level of his neck, and the words for a cutting charm were on her lips, but she paused. This was not killing in battle, nor would it be a necessary death. It could only be described as murder.

If Harry uttered the spell she wanted to, she would murder this boy in cold blood. She had thought about it, late at night when she was venting her anger into cutting charms and exploding curses. She had imagined each desk and cushion bore the face of the Heir. If she did this, took a life in cold blood for no reason other than revenge, she would be a murderer. Her hands would be stained, and she thought back to Dumbledore’s words.

Harry lowered her wand to point at the Heir’s back and thrust it forward.

“Stupefy!” She shouted, and a jet of red light shot forward from her wand. It impacted the Heir’s back and... and kept going, splashing harmlessly against the statue beyond.

“How disappointing. You think to surprise me, and with all the curses you know you choose a stunning charm? Typical Gryffindor weakness,” the Heir said, and Harry thought his voice sounded familiar. She’d heard it before, but he wasn’t a student. Or, Harry thought as she made the connection, he wasn’t a student at her Hogwarts.

Tom Riddle turned around, holding Ginny’s wand in his hands.

“H-how?” Harry asked, shocked to her core. Tom Riddle had been a student here over fifty years ago, and yet he looked just as he had in the diary.

“I told you. A memory, preserved in a diary. Something more durable than parchment and ink,”

“You’re a memory? A memory’s been the heir all this time?” Harry asked, confused.

“Oh, I haven’t been strong enough to manifest like this before. I had to work through someone who had poured enough of themselves into me. A foolish little girl, with foolish concerns. She whined endlessly to me, you know. Whined that ‘famous Harry Potter’ would never like her, whined about her homework, her teachers. But I was patient. I was her wise friend, her mentor. I helped her with her classes, with her stupid little friends. And so, I was able to grow strong enough to influence her,” Riddle said.

“You used Ginny to do all of it - all the attacks,” Harry said.

“She fought me, of course. First she tried to throw me away, but then she saw me again and my hold over her was too strong. Then, well, I had harmed her brother. The little bitch tried to throw herself off the astronomy tower after that,” Riddle said, and Harry gaped. Was - was that what Ginny had just tried to do when harry saw her. When Ginny, Harry realised, passed her the note.

“But if you’ve been able to control her for so long, why were there so few attacks?” Harry asked, confused.

“Because I no longer care to rid the school of mudbloods. I had far more interesting prey to hunt - a little cross-dressing freak who somehow defeated the great Lord Voldemort. I tried to influence you, of course, but you saw through me nearly as quickly as Dumbledore did,” Riddle said.

“Trying to frame Hagrid was a bad idea, Tom. You didn’t even get the right kind of monster. Why do you care if I defeated Voldemort, anyway? That was decades after your time,” Harry said.

“You haven’t figured it out yet, Potter? Perhaps a demonstration is in order,” Riddle said, and waved his wand. Flaming letters spelled out his name, and as they began to move Harry understood. She stumbled backwards, and fear gripped her heart. The letters settled, and spelled out the truth - ‘I am Lord Voldemort’. “You see, Potter? Lord Voldemort is my past, my present, and my future! Now, I believe you planned to duel me? Show me your power, boy who lived!” Riddle roared and sent a bolt of black lightning crackling towards her.

Harry dived out of the way, and sent all the most powerful curses she knew back at Riddle. Gouts of flame passed through him, pulses of blue light exploded parts of the statue behind him, cutting beams of light sliced into it - none of them harmed Riddle.

“It seems you do know something of magic, boy. But not enough to best me, not nearly enough!” Riddle said, and Harry dodged another lazily fired curse. Riddle was playing with her, she knew.

“I sent the real you running last year. I’ll beat you too!” Harry shouted though she didn’t really believe it. None of her spells had done so much as ruffle a hair on Riddle’s head.

“I think it is time you learnt the power of the greatest sorcerer alive - CRUCIO!” Riddle snarled, and Harry felt pain. She screamed and dropped to her knees, unable to stand as every nerve in her body burned. She fell forward, and couldn’t so much as lift her face to look at Riddle. She could remember nothing, imagine nothing but pain unending. Tears streamed down her face, cutting tracks through the grime. Then, as quickly as it had come, it was over. She tried to stand, but only managed to look up at Riddle.

“Do you understand now, freak? You are a child playing with curses she found in a library, and I am the greatest wizard in the world!” Riddle said as Harry fought through the tears.

“Y-you’re not,” Harry rasped, her throat burning.

“What?” Riddle said.

“You’re not the greatest wizard in the world. Even you know that’s Albus Dumbledore. You were scared of him as Tom Riddle, you were scared of him Voldemort, and you’re scared of him now,” Harry said through gritted teeth, rising shakily to her feet. Every joint, every muscle in her body ached. She could barely stand, let alone fight. But Ginny Weasley, who had a silly crush on her and dropped butter dishes and never stopped fighting Riddle was still there. She was still breathing, and Harry had to save her.

A beautiful, wondrous song filled Harry’s ears, a song she’d heard once before. In a burst of fire, Fawkes appeared high above them, and Harry felt her pain vanish. Her pain, her weariness, they were all gone. Ginny Weasly moved like she was struggling against invisible chains, and Tom Riddle looked away from Harry.

“What-” Riddle began, but Harry had her wand up and cast before he could decide what to focus on.

“Expeliarmus!” Harry shouted, and grinned as she plucked Ginny’s wand out of the air. “Not so all-powerful after all, Tom,” she said. Riddle’s cold, composed snarl vanished in an explosion of white-hot rage. Fawkes landed next to Harry, dropping a very familiar hat onto the ground.

“You - you may have taken the girl’s wand, boy, but I have a greater weapon. Let us see how that bird and hat measure up against the power of Lord Voldemort, of Salazar Slytherin!” Riddle said, as he turned away from Harry. She scrambled backwards, knowing what he was going to do. She even knew the words he was going to say, the magic of the place whispering them to her. “Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four!” Riddle said in parseltounge, then the mouth of the statue at the end of the chamber opened.

Harry sent a blasting curse at the opening, closed her eyes, and began to run. Fawkes swooped in towards the Basilisk, his song like a raging inferno. Harry ran, and she risked a look over her shoulder. She wanted to yell in triumph as she saw Fawkes had reduced the eyes of Slytherin’s monsters to a red ruin.

“Leave the bird, kill the boy! You can still smell him!” Riddle hissed, and Harry sent blasting curses towards the snake’s head. It reared back in pain, temporarily deafened, and Harry darted into a side tunnel. Maybe if she put her cloak back on, she thought as she ran, she could somehow sneak Ginny out of here.

Harry rushed through the side tunnels, and she could hear the Basilisk behind her. It would not be fooled by her father’s cloak, she knew. She tried to hiss commands to it, but it would not listen - it would listen only to Riddle.

She burst out into the main chamber again, and only barely dodged the snake’s titanic tail. It sent the sorting hat flying, and Harry heard a bizarre sound as it landed - the sound of metal on stone. Fawkes had brought it for a reason, and Harry trusted the phoenix whose feather powered her wand. She charged across the chamber, rolling out of the way of a clumsy bite by the Basilisk, and reached into the hat.

Harry gripped the metallic hilt within with both hands and pulled a gleaming silver sword adorned with red rubies free. It was far too large for a twelve-year-old girl, but it sang like Fawke’s song, and Harry knew it would be enough. The snake lunged at her again, and as she stepped to the side Harry sliced a long gash into its neck. Bright green blood spurted from the wound, and Riddle’s eyes widened.
The Basilisk roared once more, came in for a bite from above. Harry thrust the sword upwards, and the goblin-forged silver blade cut effortlessly into the brain of the titanic snake. Harry felt something graze her as she roared in triumph, felt the poison enter her.

In only a matter of minutes, she was going to die.

“And so ends the great Harry Potter. Brave, but foolish,” Riddle gloated. Harry ignored him. If she only had minutes left, she was going to make them count. She said silent apologies to Ron and Hermione that she wouldn’t be there when they woke up and staggered forwards.

“Thank you for everything, Fawkes. Tell Dumbledore... tell Dumbledore he was right,” Harry said, as she advanced towards Ginny and the diary. She had to stop this Riddle from escaping, from unleashing a second Voldemort on the world. She’d been an idiot to try and curse the projection, she knew. The real Riddle was still by Ginny’s side.

“What are you doing Potter?” Riddle asked, confused.

Harry had to lean on the sword now. Not even Fawke’s mournful song could banish the pain wracking her body, and she could barely crawl by the time she reached Ginny.

“T-thank you, Ginny. I couldn’t have beaten him without you,” Harry said, through her tears. She raised the sword up high, and at last, Riddle understood what Harry planned to do.

“Potter, don’t!” Riddle screamed, afraid. Harry brought the sword down and thrust the gleaming blade right into the Diary. Riddle screamed in pain, blood spurting from his chest as surely as if Harry had stabbed him - because of course, she had. She hacked at the diary again and again, until Riddle dissolved into light.

The sword fell from her hands, and Harry fell to the damp floor of the chamber. She had no strength left, no clever plan to save herself. As the darkness closed in, she saw Ginny’s eyes open. Harry smiled and closed her eyes.

Death, she thought, felt very much like that same chamber floor. Harry opened her eyes, and she saw tears flowing from Fawkes’ eyes onto her wound. Ginny was leaning over her, and as Harry’s eyes opened she spoke.

“Harry?” Ginny asked, fearful.

“It’s over, Ginny. Riddle’s gone,” Harry said, and Ginny hugged her.

Chapter 10: Year Two, Chapter Ten

Chapter Text

“He’s really gone?” Ginny asked as the two of them sat on the floor of the chamber. They were leaning against one of the sloping walls, too tired to stand.

“The Riddle that was in the diary’s gone. Riddle himself is still out there,” Harry said.

“What do you mean, Harry?”

“Tom Riddle is Voldemort’s real name,” Harry said, and Ginny’s eyes widened.

“I-I’m sorry about everything, Harry. I tried to stop him, but if it wasn’t for Fawkes-” Ginny began, only for Harry to interrupt her.

“I couldn’t have beaten him without you, Ginny. You were the one who told me where the entrance was, and you fighting him when Fawkes turned up let me disarm him,” Harry said, smiling at Ginny. She blushed a deeper scarlet than her hair.

“I - I tried to throw myself off the astronomy tower,” Ginny said, not looking at Harry.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Harry said, holding Ginny’s trembling hand. “Do you know the way out, by chance?” Harry asked. Ginny shook her head. Fawkes trilled happily, and they both got up and started to follow him. Harry put her dad’s cloak into the pocket of her robes, handed Ginny the sorting hat, and held the sword in one hand.

Ginny needed help to make the long walk back to the entrance, but Harry held her hand the entire way there and that helped. Harry didn’t really know how to help Ginny, but she was determined to try.

“Where did you find the diary anyway, Ginny?” Harry asked.

“I found it in my cauldron after Flourish and Blotts. I guess I thought Mum had bought it for me or something,” Ginny said. Harry’s eyes narrowed. Lucius Malfoy had known quite a bit about the Heir, given what he’d told Draco. Maybe he’d slipped the diary to Ginny during the confrontation in the bookstore.

They soon reached the entrance, and Harry looked in vain for some stairs or any other way to get up. Fawkes, however, winged up into the air and held out one slender leg each to Harry and Ginny. Cautiously, they grabbed on and were surprised when Fawkes lifted them up through the pipe without so much as a single sign of strain.

They emerged into Myrtle’s bathroom, and Fawkes promptly hopped onto Harry’s shoulder. Harry tried to brush some of the dirt and grime off herself but gave up after a little while.

“Oh, you’re still alive? Did you get the Heir?” Myrtle asked, surprised.

“He won’t be a problem anymore, Myrtle,” She smiled, and Harry led Ginny out of the bathroom. What awaited them on the grand staircase, however, was not what Harry had been expecting. A crowd of adult wizards with flashing cameras and notepads was following another smaller group, composed of a portly man in fine robes and three tough-looking wizards in leather coats, up the stairs.

“Minister, will you ask the Governors to- by Merlin, that’s Harry Potter!” One of the journalists shouted, and every member of both groups turned at once to face Harry and Ginny.

“Look, he’s got the girl with him!”

“She’s alive!”

“Why does she have a sword!?

Harry froze. The journalists surged forward, cameras flashing, now totally ignoring the other wizards.

“How did you save her, Miss Potter?”

“Who was the Heir? What was the monster?”

Harry blinked at the flashing light and thought. She couldn’t say anything about Ginny being possessed by the diary - that wouldn’t be fair to her. There were some things she thought people deserved to know, though. She could clear Hagrid’s name, for one, and tell the entire Wizarding World about a little secret she’d learnt from the diary.

“I need to get Ginny to the hospital wing, so I’m just gonna say what happened quickly. Um, owl me if you have more questions, okay?” Harry said, and at once the flood of shouted questions stopped. The journalists (who Harry could now see were quite the diverse bunch) seemed to be waiting eagerly for her words.

“The Heir of Slytherin was the same person who opened the Chamber fifty years ago - Tom Riddle. He enchanted a diary to contain a... a sort of living memory that could manifest and control people. Someone slipped the diary into Hogwarts after holding onto it for a very long time, because it was made right after the original opening,” Harry said.

“But - but who is Tom Riddle?” a french reporter asked, confused.

“Tom Riddle was a half-blood orphan who attended Hogwarts fifty years ago. By all accounts, he really was a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin. But I think you know him by another name,” Harry said, and without really thinking about it she did the same trick Riddle had done down in the chamber. She conjured ‘Tom Marvolo Riddle’, and rearranged the letters to ‘I am Lord Voldemort’.
A dozen different questions were shouted at her, and she could see the portly man and his bodyguards trying to push through to reach her and Ginny.

“I duelled the manifestation down in the Chamber and was able to get the wand he was using away from him with the help of Ginny and Fawkes. Then he summoned Slytherin’s monster, a sixty-foot long Basilisk. I knew what it was because I had just discovered what my friends Ron Weasly and Hermione Granger were looking for when they were petrified,” Harry began.

“Why didn’t you go to a teacher, Miss Potter?”

“I did. I went to tell Gilderoy Lockhart what I’d learnt, but I discovered that he was planning to flee the castle! We argued, and he admitted to taking credit for the good deeds of others in his books and using memory charms on the real heroes! He tried to wipe my memory, but luckily I’m not bad at shield charms and he ended up stunned and tied up in his office. He should still be there,” Harry said, grinning. Take that you bigoted creep, she thought. One of the leather coat wearing wizards broke off and started running towards Lockhart’s office.

“But how did you kill the monster, and where did you get the sword?”

“Fawkes arrived at a pivotal moment and was carrying the Sorting Hat. He clawed out the basilisk’s eyes, and I guess the sorting hat does more than sort students. I found the sword inside,” Harry said, showing the reporters the name inscribed on the blade, and continued. “Anyway, in the end I was able to kill the basilisk and destroy the diary, which put an end to the manifestation of Riddle,” Harry said, and then the portly man reached her.

“Well, as you can see folks the boy - my apologies Harry, - the Girl Who Lived has saved Miss Weasley here and ended the threat once and for all. I’ve been told by the school nurse that the petrified students are waking up once more as we speak. I for one think it’s high time we honoured our heroine, and the Ministry will be announcing something along those lines soon. Our elite Aurors will have Lockhart in custody soon, and I’m sure we’ll have the truth for you soon,” the portly man said.

“Minister Fudge, what-” one of the journalists began to say in a thick German accent, but fell silent as they all started to look at someone coming down the stairs. Professor Dumbledore was back, purple robes and twinkling eyes looking just as Harry had last seen them.

“Esteemed members of the magical press, Minister. I think Miss Potter and Miss Weasley here are long overdue to be looked at by our school nurse, and would in any case surely like to see their friends and family waiting there,” Dumbledore said, and gently guided Harry and Ginny down the stairs towards the Hospital Wing.

“Ginny!” Mrs Weasley screamed, running out of the Hospital Wing to hug her daughter fiercely. Mr Weasley followed, and though he wasn’t quite as loud he was crying happily as he hugged her.
“How - what happened?” Mrs Weasley asked, still hugging Ginny.

“I think it best we do the explanations inside, Molly,” Dumbledore said. They all walked into the Hospital Wing, where the rest of the Weasleys were waiting - including Ron, who was lying awake in his hospital bed. So was Hermione, and she smiled as she saw Harry walk in.

“You saved her, you saved her,” Mrs Weasley said, crying as she hugged Harry. She eventually let go and led Harry to a very comfortable conjured armchair. “But how?” Mrs Weasley asked, and so Harry began to speak. She told them all about the diary, about the chamber, and about Ginny being possessed. She did none of the editing she had done for the press. She left out only a few bits of her own thoughts, like thinking about killing the Heir. When she got to her duel with Riddle, all the adults gasped in surprise.

“T-t-the cruciatus curse? How did you ever manage to fight a basilisk after that?” Mr Weasley said in horror.

Harry went on to explain what she’d said to Riddle, which made Dumbledore smile.

“You must have shown me great loyalty down in the chamber to call Fawkes to you like that, Harry. It warms my heart that we was able to aid you,” Dumbledore said.

Harry then went on to explain how Ginny distracted Riddle and the rest of the fight. She looked away from them all when she described being bitten by the Basilisk. Mr and Mrs Weasley were at first aghast at Ginny, but Dumbledore managed to explain things so that they ended up praising her for helping Harry out in the end.

“A most riveting tale, Harry. You yourself are in need of some medical attention, but if you would follow me to my office for just a short while - I believe there are still a few matters we need to clear up,” Dumbledore said, extending a hand to Harry. She took it, and then they vanished in a flash of fire. Harry very hot for just a moment, and then she found herself in Dumbledore’s office holding all the objects of interest - the ruined diary, the sword, and the sorting hat. Gingerly, she laid them all down on Dumbledore’s desk.

“What did you need to speak to me about, sir?” Harry asked.

“To say that I am glad to hear you took my advice, Harry. I know you must have considered a different spell when you snuck up behind Riddle,” Dumbledore said gently, and Harry nodded. “I shall have to give you, and perhaps Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, quite some numbers of house points for your actions this year. Perhaps an award for special services to the school,” Dumbledore said, and Harry smiled.

“Thank you, sir. Um, what will happen to Lockhart?” Harry asked.

“Oh, I imagine he will face trial and be convicted of quite some number of crimes. He will spend quite a lengthy sentence in Azkaban, and perhaps some of his victims might still be healed,” Dumbledore said.

“Do... do you know why I can speak Parseltongue, professor?” Harry asked. She had felt that same odd ease when she copied RIddle’s spells too, she thought.

“Because Lord Voldemort can speak it, Harry. I believe that in addition to that scar, he also gave you some of his powers when he failed to kill you that night,” Dumbledore said, his voice gentle.

“Doesn’t that make me dangerous, then? Evil, even?” Harry asked.

“Not at all, my dear girl. You may have some of his powers, but it is not our abilities that make us good or evil - it is our actions. You choose to risk your life for others, to consider the life of even those you hate worth preserving, and to defy evil with your last moments tonight. Voldemort would not, could not have chosen to do those things. You do remind me of him as a young boy, sometimes. You even looked similar... but what strikes me most is your differences. You have a heart that he never did, Harry. In you, I see a child who shares that same potential - but with a heart far greater than him,” Dumbledore said, and Harry blushed deeply. She didn’t think she was all that great.

“How are you back, anyway? I thought the Governors got rid of you?” Harry asked. Dumbledore began to answer, only to be interrupted as his door opened with extreme violence.

“You dare return to this castle, Dumbledore!?” Shouted Lucius Malfoy, a very familiar house-elf walking beside him. Dobby was looking with big, scared eyes up at Harry and pointing between Lucius and the ruined diary.

“It seems that your colleagues reconsidered their votes after a pureblood girl was kidnapped, Lucius. Several of them even told me strange tales about you threatening to curse them if they did not vote to remove me,” Dumbledore said with a pleasant tone.

“And? Have you stopped the attacks?” Lucius asked, and Harry grinned. He must have tried to beat the minister here, and missed the impromptu press conference Harry had held.

“I think you might be the only wizard in Europe not to know that Miss Potter here rescued Miss Weasley, stopped the Heir, and slew the Basilisk at this point, Lucius,” Dumbledore said.

“The Heir? So the boy caught them then,” Lucius said.

“As a note, Lucius, I will not allow you to disrespect Miss Potter in this office again. And yes, she did catch the Heir,” Dumbledore said.

“Well, have they been handed over to the Ministry, or are you going to go soft on them, Dumbledore?”

“As Lord Voldemort is currently in the forests of Albania, and the diary he used to terrorize the school most thoroughly destroyed by Miss Potter, I will be able to do neither of those things. Of course, whoever gave Miss Weasley the diary in the first place is still at large. I certainly hope none of Tom Riddle’s other old school things turns up, or I may be forced to... act,” Dumbledore said. His voice had not changed from the pleasant tone he’d had the entire time, but Harry shivered at the last sentence. She knew what he had meant by act, and so did Malfoy. His face went white, and so did his fist gripping his cane.

“V-very well, Dumbledore. I’ll just be-” Malfoy said, but Harry interrupted him.

“You know, Ginny told me something very interesting down in the chamber. She said she first saw the diary in her cauldron at Flourish and Blotts. Someone had put it there, and I seem to remember you reaching into it,” Harry said, standing up.

“You’ll never prove it, brat,” Malfoy said, and he turned to leave. Harry’s mind raced, and she remembered something Dobby had once told her. As Malfoy closed the door, she turned to Dumbledore.

“Can I borrow that?” she said, pointing to the diary. Dumbledore nodded with a knowing smile as Harry slipped one of her now filthy socks into the pages. She ran out the door after Malfoy.

“What do you want, freak?” Malfoy said. Instead of responding, she shoved the filthy diary into his hands.

“You forgot your diary, Mr. Malfoy. I’m sure your friend Mr Riddle would be upset if you lost it,” Harry said, and she enjoyed the look of momentary panic that crossed his face. He threw the sock aside and then turned to face Harry.

“You’ll end up like your mudblood whore of a mother one day if you don’t learn your place, Potter. Come, Dobby,” Malfoy said, only for Dobby to stand completely still. He was holding Harry’s sock, and had the biggest grin Harry had ever seen.

“Master has given Dobby a sock... Dobby is free!” Dobby said, and Malfoy’s face contorted in rage.

“You - you’ve stolen my servant, boy!” Malfoy shouted, and pulled his wand from his cane. Harry had hers pointed at him, and for a single mad moment, it seemed like they would start cursing each other just outside Dumbledore’s office. Then, there was the sound of Dobby snapping his fingers and a wave of blue light threw Malfoy down a nearby flight of stairs.

“YOU WILL NOT HURT MISS HARRY POTTER!” Dobby shouted, and Harry smiled at him.
“Thanks, Dobby,” she said, as the two of them walked slowly back to Dumbledore’s office.

“A most noble thing you did, Harry. And I must give you my thanks, Dobby,” Dumbledore said.

“Dobby is glad he could help, sir. But where will he go now? Not many are wanting to hire a free elf,”

“Many of the elves here at Hogwarts are free elves like yourself, Dobby. The ministry does not approve, but there is little they can do. I would be happy to hire you,” Dumbledore said, smiling at the little elf.

“Dobby would be most pleased, Headmaster Dumbledore sir!” Dobby said, beaming.

“And I shall have a very special task for you this summer. Harry must stay for a number of weeks with her guardians, and I do not trust them as I once did. Would you watch over her there, Dobby?” Dumbledore asked.

“O-of course,” Dobby said, crying tears of happiness. Harry couldn’t help but grin at the thought - the Dursleys would hate that.

“Very well then. Now, I believe Miss Potter has a bed in the hospital wing awaiting her - if you would take her there, Dobby?” Dumbledore said, and then with a strange sucking sensation, Harry found herself in the Hospital Wing.

“You alright mate?” Ron asked.

“Not really, but I just saw Dobby throw Lucius Malfoy down a flight of stairs so I’m not doing that badly,” Harry said, and sat down on the bed she appeared next to. Mr and Mrs Weasley were over on the other end of the hospital wing, fussing over Ginny.

“Now that’s a sight I’d pay galleons to see,” Ron said.

“I’m glad you managed to figure everything out, Harry,” Hermione said. “And you look so good! Ginny told us you changed dorms and everything,” Hermione continued. Harry smiled.

“Yeah. Some of the Slytherins have been assholes about it, but Pav and Lav were really nice,” Harry said. She had been surprised how well she’d been accepted in the dorm itself, but Parvati and Lavender had been especially helpful.

“Sad to see you go mate, but good for you,” Ron said.

“I’m still in the same tower, you prat,” Harry said, and threw a pillow at him. All three of them laughed.

Chapter 11: Year Two, Chapter Eleven

Chapter Text

“Only you could suffer from the cruciatus curse, get bit by a basilisk, and still be fine to walk out of here the next day, Miss Potter,” Pomfrey said, the morning after the battle in the chamber. Ginny was still asleep in a little curtained-off section of the Hospital Wing, but Madam Pomfrey had assured Mr and Mrs Weasley that she should be fine physically with a few days of rest.

Harry smiled and said goodbye to Ginny before she headed off to breakfast. On her way there, a harried-looking Professor McGonagall stopped her.

“Ah, Miss Potter! I’m afraid there are some things you need to look at,” McGonagall said, taking out several sheets of parchment.

“Um, okay Professor. What do you need?” Harry asked.

“Your mention of the Basilisk caused quite a stir. The governors have already been inundated by requests to harvest the corpse. As you’re the only one who can get in, and killed it besides, they’d like you to approve it,” McGonagall explained, showing Harry the letter.

“Well, I don’t mind opening up the chamber. But Ron, Hermione, and Ginny should get something from it, not just me,” Harry said, and McGonagall smiled.

“Quite right. Well, off to breakfast Miss Potter,” McGonagall said.

Harry walked into the great hall, and whispers immediately started to fly around. Harry was used to this and paid no great attention to it until she heard someone clapping. Justin Finch-Fletchly had actually got to his feet and started clapping. Soon people started joining him, and Harry blushed a deeper scarlet than Ron’s hair. None of the Slytherins stood up, of course, and a few from other houses seemed very interested in their breakfast all of a sudden.

She made her way a little awkwardly to her usual spot, where for the first time in weeks Ron and Hermione were sitting. They smiled at her as the clapping started to die down and people returned to their breakfasts.

“Do you know you’re getting an Order of Merlin, Harry?” Hermione said, and Harry spat out her Pumpkin juice.

“R-really, Hermione?” Harry asked, and Hermione simply handed her the day’s Daily Prophet as a way of explanation. Harry looked at the front page and laughed as she saw who’d written the extremely positive article.

GIRL WHO LIVED SLAYS BASILISK AT HOGWARTS, REVEALS YOU-KNOW-WHO’S REAL NAME AND MUGGLE FATHER!

Harry Potter emerged from the Chamber of Secrets with a rescued Ginny Weasley and the sword of Godric Gryffindor right in front of this very reporter’s eyes and then held what may have been the most extraordinary press conference in the history of Magical Britain. While many have doubted the former Boy Who Lived this year (see page three for the full story about her change) it’s safe to say that our young heroine has proved them wrong!

Ministry Aurors have confirmed that she slew the Monster of Slytherin (one of the largest Basilisks ever recorded). One said to me, confidentially, that it’d have taken the ministry five teams of Hit Wizards to kill it. Harry Potter killed it with a sword. She also duelled You Know Who’s teenage self and won - and for a cheery on top confronted, defeated, and exposed serial fraud, Gilderoy Lockhart.

We must of course discuss the extraordinary revelation that a memory of You-Know-Who’s teenage self was behind the events at Hogwarts this year. Miss Potter also revealed to the press his real name, which for the first time ever will be printed in this newspaper: Tom Marvolo Riddle. Quick minded viewers may already have spotted a certain anagram that Ministry censorship guidelines prevent us from printing. I can say Miss Potter demonstrated it to us with a most impressive bit of fire-conjuring - and that it gave this reporter quite the fright!

The Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal that Tom Riddle was born to a pureblood witch and a muggle father - Tom Riddle Snr. Some will no doubt cast doubt on this claim, but the record does not lie. You-Know-Who was not a pureblood.

Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge is expected to announce an Order of Merlin for Miss Potter within the week. In the opinion of this reporter, it is more than deserved!

In other news, Miss Potter defeated a more ordinary dark wizard last night, one Gilderoy Lockhart. For our full story and investigation, see page five.

- Rita Skeeter

“If I’d known killing a basilisk with a sword was all it took to get Rita Skeeter off my back, I’d have done it months ago,” Harry said.

“I feel so silly for believing Lockhart all year,” Hermione said. “I got so mad at you Ron, but you were right about him from the start,”

“Well, that makes you the one in the right only ninety-five times out of a hundred, so we can call it even,” Ron said, and they both laughed.

“Turns out he could duel, though,” Harry said.

“Really? He was pretty useless at the duelling club,” Ron said.

“It was a good thing I got my shield charm working, I’ll say that,” Harry said, and Hermione beamed.

“You got it to work?” Hermione said, and instantly started to bug Harry with questions about it.

Soon enough, the trio found themselves on the train home from another year at Hogwarts. Harry had rather nervously changed into a dress, determined not to go back to boy’s clothes over the summer. Dumbledore had said that he’d be speaking to the Dursleys, and after seeing him speak to Malfoy Harry was confident her relatives wouldn’t pose too big a problem.

“Would you and Ron like to come over for a few days during the holidays, Harry?” Hermione asked, a little nervously.

“Sure. I need to stay at the Dursleys until my birthday, though,” Harry said. Ron nodded his agreement.

“Do - do you mind if I come in?” asked Ginny as the train left Hogsmeade station. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were the only occupants of their cabin.

“Sure, come in,” Harry said. Ginny smiled and sat down next to Ron.

“Are you going to be alright with your relatives, Harry?” Ron asked.

“Dumbledore said he’d talk to them, and he assigned Dobby to watch over me,” Harry said.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, mate? That House-Elf’s idea of protecting you is a little barmy,”

“He did send Lucius Malfoy flying down a flight of stairs after he pulled a wand on me,”

“Good,” Ginny said, and all of them agreed. That was about the time the door opened to show a very red-faced Draco Malfoy, his two goons behind him.

“You stole our house-elf, Potter!” Draco ranted.

“Dobby’s nobody’s property, Draco. Besides - what are you going to do about, tell your daddy about it?” Harry said.

“Harry was just telling us about how he had such an unfortunate fall,” Hermione said.

“Yeah. Something about getting beat up by a house-elf?” Ron said.

“Laugh all you want, freak. You and your blood-traitor friends will get what’s coming to you,” Malfoy said, as he left.

Fred and George soon turned up, and the six of them had an excellent time in the last few hours they were able to use magic before the summer holidays. Harry gave Hermione the Dursley’s phone number and then gave it to Ron with a warning to practice with Hermione first.

The train raced on through the countryside, and then through London. Harry got her trunk down, and very nervously said goodbye to Ron and Hermione, then gathered up her courage and walked through the barrier. It felt scarier than walking into the Chamber of Secrets had, a stupid irrational fear that she was going to have to go back to boy’s clothes, that Aunt Petunia was going to cut her hair short.

Uncle Vernon was waiting extremely uncomfortably next to someone Harry hadn’t expected to see. Albus Dumbledore was sitting next to her uncle and was dressed in a finely tailored but extremely purple muggle suit. He stood out rather strongly, and a few people were also looking at Uncle Vernon a little oddly.

“What are you -” Veron began, his face beginning to turn purple from rage, as he saw Harry.

“That is one of the matters that we must discuss, Mr Dursley. I think it best we only have this discussion once, so why don’t you lead us to your lovely car and back to Privet Drive first,” Dumbledore said, and Uncle Veron seemed to simply deflate.

Harry couldn’t help but grin at his misfortune. She loaded her trunk, and Hedwig’s cage, into the back of Vernon’s car. Her owl she’d let out before reaching the station - Hedwig would find her way on her own.

Aunt Petunia and Dudley were waiting very nervously in the living room of Number Four, Privet Drive. Dudley just looked confused when Harry arrived, possibly too stupid to associate the black-haired girl with the lightning bolt scar with his cousin. Petunia’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

“Now, I’ve tolerated a lot of your... wizarding deviancy, but I will not tolerate this!” Vernon said, seeming to have gathered his courage on the drive back from King’s Cross.

“You are under the mistaken impression that you have a choice in the matter, Mr Dursley. I was very worried when several of your niece’s friends wrote letters to me explaining your actions towards Harry. I then followed several of those allegations up, and found them to be entirely truthful,” Dumbledore said, his voice level. Vernon got angrier, but Petunia just looked away from Dumbledore.

“I will not be talked to like this in my own-” Vernon began, but Dumbledore simply silenced him with a flick of his wand.

“You made several promises to me, Petunia. Promises you did not uphold,” Dumbledore said, and still Petunia looked away. She began to tremble in fear, and Harry found it not to be as fun as she’d imagined. Dudley started to cry.

“I - that is, we-” Petunia said.

“You will treat your niece with respect. You will not allow her to come to harm, and you will not unreasonably restrict her movements or assign her unreasonable chores. If you do not, the guardian I have placed here will inform me. Do you understand me, Petunia?” Dumbledore asked. He had yet to even so much as raise his voice.

"Y-Yes," she said with a shaking voice.

“Good. Enjoy your summer holidays, Harry,” Dumbledore said, and then he was gone with a loud ‘pop’. Vernon could speak again, and he rounded on Harry.

“Vernon, dear. I detest the bo - Harry’s... lifestyle as much as you, but they will know. They will know Vernon. Think of Dudely, think of your son!” Petunia said, desperately.

“To be made to allow such a perverted little... under my own roof! Around my son!” Vernon said. Dudley was still crying.

“I’m not going to do anything to Dudley,” Harry said.

“You better not, boy. I’m warning you - that wizard won’t be able to help you fast enough if you push me too far,” Vernon said. Harry stood, and withdrew her wand.

“And let me explain something to you, Uncle. I learnt a lot at Hogwarts this year, including enough curses to blast you into tiny little pieces. Self-defence is one of the few reasons to use magic out of school,” Harry said, looking him straight in the eye. He gulped. Harry still thought this entire episode was about as scary as facing down Riddle.

“If - if you want to be a girl so badly, go start on dinner,” Aunt Petunia said, and Harry had to stop herself from laughing.

“Sure, Aunt Petunia,” Harry said, without even a hint of sarcasm.

Later that night, Harry let Hedwig in and started on her summer homework. She put up a chart counting down the days until her birthday, marked off one day, and went to bed. This summer, she thought, was going to be better than the last one.

Chapter 12: Year Three, Chapter One

Chapter Text

Harry’s eyes flew open, and she grabbed the wand hidden by her bed. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, and sweat covered her brow. Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she lowered her wand. Riddle wasn’t there, waiting in the dark. She wasn’t back in the chamber, being tortured. Her nerves still seemed to burn for just a moment sometimes, late at night.

She flicked on her lamp, and traced the ugly white scar on her forearm. It didn’t hurt at all after Fawkes had cried on it, but she knew that like the scar on her head, it would not fade. Dark magic always left a mark, and the magic of the Basilisk was as dark as it came. It wasn’t like a dragon, just a big fierce animal that had some innate magic - basilisks were the creation of wizards, a weapon to be used by a parselmouth.

Harry hadn’t returned the notepad she’d borrowed from Hermione after her friend had been petrified. The notepad she’d filled with curses and forbidden knowledge. Harry had decided against killing the heir in the end, but she hadn’t destroyed the notepad either. It sat in the bottom of her trunk, hidden in some old robes.

She didn’t think she was a dark witch, even though she’d cast plenty of curses in her last year. Quirrel and the memory of Riddle might have died (and Riddle had been a thinking, feeling being, so Harry counted him) during their confrontations with her, but they had been trying to enact some evil scheme.

What had Quirrel been like, Harry wondered, before Voldemort? Harry remembered the smell of her hands burning him, remembered the two of them screaming as she put her hands on his face.

Tom Riddle had killed for the first time at sixteen. Harry had done it before she was twelve. The thought unnerved her, though she knew that they were very different people. Her face had changed a little since starting Madam Pomfrey’s second potion, and she’d grown her hair out, but she could still see a little of Riddle in her when she looked in the mirror.

Harry put her wand back, turned off the lamp, and tried to get back to sleep. She only had a few more days left at the Dursleys before she could really begin her summer holiday. Harry, despite her previous lacklustre experience, was really looking forward to her birthday this year.

That morning, after Vernon had left for work and Petunia for one of her book club meetings (Harry though they might be more accurately described as ‘gin club meetings’), she walked down to the kitchen and made herself some toast.

Dudley was sitting on the couch, watching television and eating chocolates. He seemed to be watching a movie of some kind, and a well-muscled soldier type was gunning down a variety of ethnic stereotypes. Just the kind of entertainment his parents would have approved of.

“I heard you talking in your sleep, queer. Who’s Tom, your boyfriend?” Dudley said, laughing. Harry froze. She was used to insults from her cousin, but she felt like he’d intruded on something very private this time.

“Shut up, Dudley,” Harry said, angrily. She felt the pain from all her nerves burning down in the chamber for just a moment, her hands shaking.

“I knew that’s why you started wearing dresses and being weird. What is he, an older bo-” Dudley began but stopped as he suddenly seemed to lose his voice. He gaped at Harry, and his hands went to his mouth. HIs bowl of chocolates fell to the floor, and Harry thought she saw a few rise up a bit and then disappear. She smiled at that. Dobby really had made living at the Dursleys far more bearable.

“Don’t you remember, Dudley? No more Harry hunting for you, or the wizards will get you,” Harry said and finished her toast. With all her summer homework long since finished, she decided to go out and enjoy the warm weather. Privet drive didn’t have much for kids to do, but the parks were nice enough. Harry put a few books into her bag, along with her wand and some of the muggle money she’d had delivered from Gringotts via owl.

She walked through the early morning quiet of Privet Drive, thinking that she couldn’t wait to see her friends again once her time at her relatives was up. She’d had a few telephone conversations with Hermione, and sent letters to all her friends via owl post. Hedwig was happy for the exercise.

Harry found a comfortable tree to sit under, put her bag to her side and pulled out one of the old paperbacks she’d taken from Dudley’s dusty shelves. She began to read about strange creatures called hobbits and passed a pleasant morning doing just that. Deciding that she wouldn’t mind someone else making lunch, she headed for a nearby set of shops. It wasn’t much - just a street of fairly ordinary takeaways, clothes shops, a shabby cinema, and a single lonely bookstore - but Dudley’s gang and their older friends pretty much ran it. Harry had always stayed away before, but now... now she had nothing to fear from Dudley Dursley.

“Isn’t that your freak cousin?” Harry heard as she approached the shops, and she turned to see Dudley’s gang all clustered together in an alleyway. They seemed to be trying to shield whatever they were doing from casual passersby.

“Oh, hello Dudley. Having fun back there in your... alleyway,” Harry said, cheerfully waving at her cousin.

“Fuck off, Potter,” Piers Polkiss said. As he turned to speak, Harry smelt the cheap beer on his breath.

“Really Dudley? Aren’t you a little young to be drinking. Aunt Petunia would be so disappointed at her little Duddiekins drinking,” Harry said, feeling great pleasure at the pink blush on Dudley’s cheeks.

“I’m warning you, Potter,” Dudley said, making a fist. “I’m about this close to-”

“To what, Duddiekins? You and I both know you wouldn’t dare to take a swing at me... or have you forgotten what I told your dad. You only like battering little ten-year-olds that can’t fight back,” Harry said and grinned as she saw Dudley go white with fear.

“It’s just some stupid fag, Dudely. Let’s -” Piers began, but Dudely spoke up.

“It sucks here, guys. Nosy little fags and old ladies trying to get between us and fun. Let’s go somewhere without them,” Dudley said sounding confidant but Harry could see how he was looking anywhere but at her. She gave his gang a rude gesture as they left, and laughed.

“You must have some hold over that little monster, kid,” said someone behind Harry, and she turned to see a girl who must have been a year or two older than her leaning against a wall. She wore a tired set of jeans and a shirt with some kind of band logo on it, but Harry thought she was very pretty.

“Um, you know...” Harry said, floundering. She wanted to impress this clearly very cool girl, but she could hardly mention magic or Hogwarts.

“Say, are you Harry Potter? My mum’s been ranting about you corrupting the neighbourhood for weeks,” the girl said.

“That’s me. I’m really not out to-” Harry began, but the girl waved her off.

“I think it’s cool - I mean, an out trans girl on Privet Drive? I’d never thought I’d see the day. I’m Penny,” she said, and Harry felt a little awkward. She hadn’t talked much about topics like these with anyone, beyond her halting explanations to her new roommates. “You know, some of the kids from Stonewall have like a support group for queer kids. Over the summer holidays, we hold our weekly meetings near here. Want to come along?” Penny asked.

“Um, sure,” Harry said, feeling very awkward. She didn’t know much about this sort of stuff - what if she said something and offended someone?

“So, do you still go by Harry? I don’t want to deadname you by accident?” Penny asked.

“For now. I - I’ve been thinking up new names. I just haven’t really decided,” Harry said, as she followed Penny into a cheap-looking cafe. A group of kids ranging from harry’s age to seventeen were the only people in there, all sitting around a number of tables that had been pushed together.
“Guess who I found sending Dudely Dursley and his little gang running? The legendary Harry Potter,” Penny said, and Harry found herself wondering for a moment if she’d missed Penny at Hogwarts. The kids all looked up, and Harry knew instantly that they were the sort of people her Uncle would have very heavily disapproved of - or, in other words, people Harry would like to meet.

“Really?” a boy who looked about fifteen said.

“Called him Duddiekins and everything,” Penny said, as she and Harry sat down.

“So how’d you manage to come out at St. Brutus’” another girl asked. Harry blinked. Uncle Vernon had threatened to send her to St Brutus’ Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys once or twice before she’d got her Hogwarts, but she’d no idea he’d started telling people she went there.

“Did Vernon start telling people I go there? Um, I actually go to a normal boarding school. A mixed school,” Harry explained.

“That’s... I mean, I knew the Dursleys were stuck up, but that’s just weird,” Penny said.

“My parents arranged for me to go there, so they hate it,” Harry explained, and soon enough the topic of conversation turned to other matters. Harry felt crushed as she saw Penny introduce another girl as ‘her girlfriend’, but she still accepted an invitation to come back next time.

When Harry returned home, she found an official-looking and handsome owl, along with Errol, waiting by her window. She took both letters, gave them an owl treat each, and opened the official one first. It was an invitation to attend a ceremony for her Order of Merlin, first class the day after her birthday. Harry didn’t particularly want an Order of Merlin, but she felt like it would be rude not to attend.

Mrs Weasley’s letter was an offer to pick her up on her birthday, and asking if she would like to stay with them for a while. Harry enthusiastically responded that she’d love to, and she went to bed that night more excited than ever for July the Thrity-First.

Chapter 13: Year Three, Chapter Two

Chapter Text

“So you’re not moving out, but you only have to stay for two months each year?” Penny asked Harry as the meeting wound down. It was Harry’s second, and her last before her birthday.

“Yeah. There’s some complicated legal thing that means I have to stay there, and that’s the minimum amount of time,” Harry said.

“Your friends sound like they look after you. It’s good to hear that your roommates were supportive too. Are you - do people take issue with you?” Penny said, slightly awkwardly.

“Yeah, but I can deal with that. People are always making up stupid rumours about me, but I’ve gotten used to it,” Harry said, putting some brightly coloured muggle money onto the table to help pay for the food.

“You don’t need to put in quite-” Penny began, but Harry waved her off.

“You all really helped make Privet Drive bearable this year,” Harry said, blushing. Penny smiled.

“We’ll be expecting your letters once school starts - you sure this address is right?” Penny asked, holding up the little scrap of paper with an address on it that would have their mail forwarded to Hogwarts.

“Yeah. My school is pretty remote, but if you send it there it should get it,” Harry said, and then she blushed very deeply as Penny hugged her goodbye. She walked back to Privet Drive with a spring in her step.

“What’s got you so happy?” Aunt Petunia snapped as Harry entered Number Four.

“Nothing, Aunt Petunia. I’ve been making sure to spend my summer holiday in misery, just the way you like it,” Harry said.

“Probably been out celebrating that Black fellow’s escape with all his freaky friends,” Vernon said from the living room, over the TV news.

“Who?” Harry asked, confused. Uncle Vernon just turned the news up.

“And we repeat our warning for viewers in the Surrey area: police are confident escaped criminal Sirus Black is in the area, and armed with at least one firearm,” the TV news announcer said, before switching to the weather. Harry thought she ought to have recognised the name - she’d definitely heard it somewhere before.

“Never heard of him,” Harry said, shrugging her shoulders and heading up to her room. She wanted to have everything packed and ready for her to leave in the morning. Harry didn’t own anything that couldn’t fit in her trunk, besides Hedwig’s cage. She put all her clothes - thankfully none of Dudley’s second-hand clothes remained -, all of her books and all of her other possessions into her trunk. Her broom was very carefully placed within, and she made sure her little black notebook of notes on spells she probably shouldn’t know was hidden carefully.

“Oh, Uncle Vernon? I have a permission form I need you to sign,” Harry said as she set the table for dinner.

“Well, boy, I’m not going to-” Vernon started, but then petunia caught his eye and started nodding violently. “That is, you’ve been relatively well behaved this year and are leaving early, so I’ll sign your blasted form,” Vernon said, as Harry serenely handed him her Hogwarts permission form.

Harry woke up early the next morning, and as she walked over to the wall to complete her ritual of marking off a day, she felt rather puzzled that there were no days to mark off. She was thirteen years old, and wouldn’t have to come back to Privet Drive for another year. Mrs Weasley had said she’d come to pick Harry up at around eleven, so Harry did reluctantly eat breakfast.

She spent her remaining few hours in the muggle world buying Mr Weasley some new batteries for his collection, reading another one of Dudley’s dusty books, and general feeling the completely alien sensation of being excited for her birthday. When the doorbell rang, Harry was there nearly instantly.

“Hello, Mrs Weasley,” Harry said. The Weasley matriarch looked much more tanned than Harry remembered.

“Oh, you look so nice Harry dear. Long hair does suit you wonderfully - got everything ready?” she asked. The Dursleys were all in the living room, stubbornly pretending to be interested in a home-improvement show rerun.

“Everything’s ready, Mrs Weasley,” Harry said and pulled her trunk and Hedwig’s cage out of the door. Hedwig herself had taken off for the Burrow in the morning.

“Alright, now we’re going to be apparating to the Burrow, Harry dear. Just hold on tightly...” Mrs Weasley said as she took Harry’s hand. Then Harry felt like she was being squeezed through a very tight tunnel, spun around very fast, and thrown out onto the grass. She managed not to fall over, but she was very unsteady.

“I - I can see why you have the car,” Harry said.

“Happy birthday Harry!” came a general shout from a large number of Weasleys in the front garden of the Burrow. Hermione was there also, and to Harry’s surprise and delight so was Hagrid. There was also a large banner wishing her a happy birthday, and what appeared to be a very large lunch laid out on wooden tables painted with fading white paint. Everyone, Harry decided, looked rather more tanned than when she’d last seen them. Except for Hagrid.
“T-thank you, everyone,” Harry said, and she felt herself fighting back tears. This - this was beyond what she’d been expecting. Soon she was surrounded by people, and Hagrid gave her a rather crushing hug.

“Couldn’t miss your thirteenth birthday, could I? Very important time for a young witch,” Hagrid said, ruffling her hair. “Between you and me, harry, I think I got you the best present,” Hagrid staged whispered, and Harry laughed.

“How were the Dursleys this year?” Hermione asked.

“Dobby was brilliant. Kept stealing Dudley’s chocolates when he misbehaved. How was France?” Harry said.

“Oh, I learnt so much about French wizards - it’s a fascinating history,” Hermione said.

“Anything interesting, Harry means,” Ron interjected.

“French magical history is very interesting, Ron. You’d enjoy it - a lot of beheadings,” Hermione said.

“What was Egypt like, Ron?” Harry asked. Her two best friends sometimes seemed to enjoy their bickering, but it mostly made Harry feel rather awkward.

“Wicked. Bill took us around all the tombs, you wouldn’t believe the curses those old Egyptian wizards put on them. Mum wouldn’t let Ginny in the last one - it had all these mutant skeletons in it,” Ron said.

“It was a real stroke of luck your dad managed to win seven hundred galleons from the Daily Prophet,” Harry said.

“It’s rigged every year, but they gave it to him this year because they felt bad about the chamber,” Ginny said. She looked at Harry and smiled. “Your hair looks nicer long, Harry. You should keep it like that,” Ginny continued.

“Thanks, Ginny,” Harry said. The lunch Mrs Weasley had made was excellent and contained most of Harry’s favourites. She’d even made a large cake, which had magical icing with little animated snitches on it.

“Here’s my present, Harry,” Hermione said, and handed over a large and very heavy package. Harry thought it might be a book, but it was shaped a little oddly. She opened it as Mrs Weasley poured Hagrid a glass of firewhiskey, and grinned as she saw what Hermione had given her. It was a sleek black leather case, with the words “Broomstick Servicing Kit” written on it in silver lettering.

“This is really cool, Hermione,” Harry said and hugged her.

Ron and Ginny had clubbed up to give Harry a pocket sneakoscope, a sort of magical alarm that went off around untrustworthy people.

“You’re not gonna hug me are you?” Ron said, and Harry then proceeded to do so with a devilish grin.

“I think I will,” Harry said, and then she gave Ginny one too.

“Girls. You’re all mental,” Ron said, and Harry couldn’t be mad. Then it was Hagrids turn. He took a large package from his coat, wrapped in rough brown paper, and handed it to Harry.

“Tanned it myself, though I had some of the other professors help me with putting it together and the spells and all that,” Hagrid said, as Harry unwrapped it. It was a beautiful green coat, cut in the style she’d seen the one female member of Fudge’s bodyguard wear. As she touched the leather, she realised what was familiar about it. “Genuine basilisk skin, resistant to most everything. Spelled so that it’ll grow with you too,” Hagrid said, and Harry smiled up at him.

“This is really cool, Hagrid. I didn’t know that this was what you wanted with some of the skin when we went down to let the harvesters in,” Harry said. He blushed.

“Well, you did me such a big favour proving my innocence and all. I’m even allowed to carry a wand now,” Hagrid said.

“Oh Hagrid, that’s wonderful,” Hermione said.

Hagrid and Hermione left after the meal, with Hermione confirming that she’d see Harry and Ron in a week at her house, and then Harry and the Weasleys (minus Percy, Mrs Weasley, and Mr Weasley) walked over to a nearby clearing to play some quidditch.

“Given Hary’s got that fancy Nimbus, what do you say to boys vs girls?” Fred said.

“Probably makes up for Ginny,” Ron said, and then Ginny hit him with an apple.

“Probably deserved that one, Ronniekins,” George said, and then Harry and Ginny walked over to the other end of the clearing.

Harry and Ginny proceeded to completely annihilate the boys, and so soon the match descended into a free-for-all game of aerial tag. Harry let all of the Weasleys have a try on her nimbus, and it was nearly dark by the time they headed back to the Burrow.

“Harry dear, I’ve put your things in Ginny’s room,” Mrs Weasly said, and Harry blinked.

“Gotcha, Mrs Weasley,” she said, a little surprised but not unhappy.

“Makes sense, I suppose,” Ron said. Ginny herself looked rather surprised, but she’d definitely calmed down from dropping the butter dish levels.

“Thank you all for today. I - I’ve never had a proper birthday before, and this was really nice,” Harry said.

“Glad to have you, mate,” Ron said, and Harry smiled.

The next morning, Harry was fussed over by Mrs Weasley in exacting detail. After breakfast, she changed into her nicest dress and even put on a little of the makeup Lavender and Parvarti had pushed her to owl order last year.

“Now, Arthur is going to take you three in with him by the floo. I want you all to be on your best behaviour - the Minister himself will be giving Harry this award,” Mrs Weasley said, and the three in question - Harry, Ron, and Ginny - all nodded.

Harry was mostly surprised at the scale and grandeur of the ministry - it had none of the ramshackle nature she had come to expect of wizards. Even Hogwarts felt like an old castle she happened to live in, sometimes. Mr Weasley made sure they reached the Minister’s minders, and then he had to go to work. Ron and Ginny joined Hermione, who had driven in with her parents, in the audience.

There was a small stage in the ministry atrium, and Harry felt rather bizarre as she walked with Minister Fudge up the stairs to it. Most of the crowd seemed to be adult witches and wizards, including all the reporters from her impromptu press conference after the Chamber.

“Welcome, welcome. It is my great pleasure to bestow the Order of Merlin, First Class, on one of its youngest ever recipients. Miss Harry Potter is, however, an uncommonly brave young witch. On the day in question not only did she rescue a classmate at great risk to herself, but she also slew one of the largest Basilisk’s on record with a sword, defeated a dark artifact, and out-duelled an adult dark wizard!” Fudge said, as he withdrew a small gold medal on a dark green ribbon and placed it around Harry’s neck.

“Speech!” someone with a very thick Australian accent shouted - one of the reporters, Harry thought.

“Um, I don’t really have much of a speech. I just want to say that without the help of my friends, I couldn’t have done any of this. Without their help, I’d have been dead a dozen times over,” Harry said, which got quite a bit of applause. Fudge shook her hand for the cameras, handed her a box to keep her medal in, and then it was over. It all felt rather bizarre to Harry, but it did feel nice to be recognised for something she’d actually done rather than for her mother’s sacrifice.
“Wonder if I could have a quick wor din my office, Harry?” Fudge asked.

“Sure. Hey, Ron, Ginny - I’ll just be a bit, yeah?” Harry said, and followed Fudge into the elevators and then into his rather palatial office.

“Well, my dear b- my dear girl, it’s been rather an exciting few days for you. Turning thirteen and receiving an Order of Merlin - not something one does every day. Have you been keeping up with the news much?” Fudge asked, and Harry was surprised by the question.

“Not really. I was living with my relatives, and they don’t like owls much-” Harry said, and Fudge nodded.

“Understandable, understandable. What have you heard about Sirus Black?” Fudge asked.

“Sirus Black... he was on the muggle news,” Harry said.

“Yes, we got quite the number of raised eyebrows over at the ICW for that, but it had to be done. You see, Harry, Black is one of us. Escaped from Azkaban prison only a few days ago, and he’s a nasty customer. We believe he was You-Know-Who’s chief lieutenant during the war, and he was in there for killing thirteen people with a single curse,” Fudge said, and Harry felt her eyebrows raise. Thirteen people with one curse? That was a seriously powerful curse.

“He sounds dangerous, minister, but I’m not sure why you wanted to speak to me about it,” Harry said.

“Ah. That. Well Harry, we also believe that he may be, ah, interested in you. We don’t want to alarm you, just warn you to be on your guard,” Fudge said, and Harry nodded.

“I understand minister,” Harry said.

“Good. Tea?” Fudge asked.

“I’d better get back to my friends - they’ll be waiting for me at the floo grates,” Harry said, and Fudge smiled.

“Of course, of course. Have a good day now, Harry,” Fudge said, and Harry went back to the atrium.

“What did the Minister want, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“To tell me that there’s another nutter connected to You-Know-Who out to get me, maybe,” Harry said.

“Starting a bit early this year, are we?” Ron said, and the four of them laughed.

Chapter 14: Year Three, Chapter Three

Chapter Text

Harry’s time at the Burrow was as pleasant a time as she’d ever had over the summer. There were chores to do, yes, but everyone pitched in. Harry helped de-gnome gardens, chopped vegetables, and more. But there was always someone doing it with you, and there was never much work with so many hands.

She lost quite a few games of wizard chess to Ron - most of the Weasleys refused to play him anymore, except for Percy - and everyone had great fun on her Nimbus. She even managed to coax Percy into giving it a try, and he’d had a huge grin when he landed.

Harry was sad, sometimes. She thought about what her life would have been like if her parents hadn’t died - would they have had more kids? Would they have accepted who she was?

She still had nightmares about the chamber, remembering the pain Riddle’s curse had inflicted on her. Remembered the basilisk’s poison burning inside her, dragging herself over to the diary.

“I’m - I’m sorry for waking you, Ginny,” Harry said, very early one morning. The moon was full overhead, and Harry put the wand she’d grabbed instinctively down. She was breathing hard, and her skin was covered in sweat.

“It’s okay. I - I have nightmares about him too,” Ginny said, sitting up. Her voice was quiet, and it felt as if they were not quite in the waking world. In the light of the moon, the two of them could say things they otherwise could not. It was a curious, illogical thing, but Harry knew it was true.

“I get... shakes sometimes. I remember his curse,” Harry said, not looking at Ginny. This wasn’t something she could admit - she couldn’t admit to still being scared.

“Whenever I write something, I keep waiting for Riddle to write back,” Ginny admitted. “But... he’s gone, now. I could feel him all the time at the end, and now there’s just... bits left over. Sometimes I get flashes of memories. They’re - they’re not what you’d expect You Know - what you’d expect Voldemort to remember,” Ginny continued.

“What sorts of memories?” Harry asked.

“Mostly just him as a kid. He was a little monster, but he grew up in a pretty awful place. Sometimes I think he might have been a perfectly ordinary kid if he hadn’t ended up there,” Ginny said.

“Maybe... Dumbledore said I reminded him of Riddle as a kid,” Harry admitted, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

“You did look similar, before you, you know. But I don’t think Riddle would have bothered to save me down in the Chamber,” Ginny said.

“That’s what Dumbledore said,” Harry said, and the two of them laughed a little before they went back to sleep. Harry had an idea, though.

That day, Harry went out into the garden and tried to feel that same sensation she’d always felt looking at snakes. She felt a little silly just standing in the garden and trying to hiss, but if she looked at the grass just right...

“Hello?” Harry hissed, and she grinned as a small grass snake slithered out to look at her. She’d never found snakes to be interesting conversationalists, but she was able to coax it onto her arm easily enough. She could tell now, how to just talk to one and how to command it. It was a sort of magic, a projection of will that was very different to any of the spells Harry had learnt at Hogwarts.

She went to find Ginny, who was playing (and losing to) Ron at wizard’s chess outside.

“Blimey Harry, what’s with the snake!?” Ron said.

“Just had a little idea. He’s harmless,” Harry said, and she saw Ginny staring at the snake.

“What?” Ginny hissed, and with her confirmation, Harry put the snake down and let it slither off back into the grass.

“Congratulations, Ginny. You’re a parselmouth,” Harry said.

“What - how?” Ginny asked.

“Probably something Riddle managed to leave behind,” Harry said, quietly.

“Now there’s two of you. I still say it’s a bit freaky,” Ron said.

“No argument here,” Ginny said, and Harry nodded. She didn’t mind the ability, but Voldemort leaving bits of his powers behind was a little freaky. Ginny was a little freaked out, but she did manage to prank the twins several times with it, so she was in good spirits.

Then Harry and Ron were on their way to Hermione’s house for a few days. Harry was curious to see what her friend’s house was like, and she wondered if it would be much like the Dursley’s. The journey there was an adventure in and of itself - Harry helped take the trip on a muggle train, and then Hermione’s parents spiked them up at the train station.

“Ron! Harry!” Hermione shouted, waving them over. Harry had managed to coach Ron into not standing out quite so much, though she thought the wizard in the coat and suit was being a little obvious. Harry had spotted him quite early on, and almost gone for her wand until she realised where she’d seen him before - he was an auror. Clearly, Fudge was more concerned about this Sirus Black character than he’d admitted to her, Harry thought.
“Hermione. Nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Granger,” Harry said. Hermione’s parents were a pair of ordinary-looking middle-aged people. They were slightly out of shape, Mrs Granger had a few grey hairs and Mr Granger was balding a little. But they smiled warmly at their daughter’s excitement, and Harry thought that they were probably quite nice.

“Good to meet you two - Hermione talks about you both all the time. I must admit, we were a little worried when Dumbledore told us about that incident with the snake but you managed to get that resolved right quick,” Mr Granger said, and Harry nodded awkwardly. Hermione looked like she was about to die of embarrassment.

The Granger’s house was very different from the Burrow, but it was nothing like Number Four Privet Drive. The garden wasn’t merely a flat plane of grass, but there were trees growing in it. There was none of the magazine photo glossiness that Petunia desperately maintained. This was a house, Harry thought, that people lived in.

Harry and Hermione took Ron on a whirlwind tour of the muggle world, showing him everything from a dumb blockbuster at the cinema to Indian food. Ron had looked a little sideways at the food at first but had loved it after his third bite.

While they were walking back from dinner, Harry saw something curious in the shadows of a deserted playground. Something with large yellow eyes was moving in the darkness, and Harry tried to look closer. Whatever it was, it was watching her. She looked a little closer, and thought it might be a very large dog -

“What’re you looking at Harry?” Ron asked, and Harry turned to answer him.

“I dunno, I think there’s a-” Harry said, but as she turned around whatever it had been was gone.

That night, the three of them returned to the Granger’s house to find owls waiting for all of them. Each bore an official-looking Hogwarts crest, with a rather bulging envelope. The trio opened them eagerly and discovered else had been delivered with their usual Hogwarts letters.

All of the basilisk’s corpse had been sold, and the proceeds divided up. Harry, having the equivalent of a few million pounds in her vault already, wasn’t too concerned with getting the money, but she knew it would mean a lot for Ron and Ginny. As he read the letter, Ron’s smile grew.

“That’s... that’s a lot of galleons. I don’t think I’ve ever seen five hundred galleons in one place before,” Ron said.

“Did you really earn nearly fifty thousand pounds from that whole debacle?” Mrs Granger said, reading over Hemione’s shoulder.

“I can’t use most of it until I’m seventeen, but this is enough to get a new wand easy. You’re a legend for getting McGonagall to give us some too Harry,” Ron said.

“Without you two, I wouldn’t have known it was a basilisk,” Harry said, shrugging.

Soon enough the Grangers, Weasleys, and Harry found themselves at Diagon Alley on the day before they were due to return to Hogwarts, and they quickly split up into smaller groups. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione went one way, the twins another, Percy met up with Penelope Clearwater, and the adults had lunch in the Leaky Cauldron.

“Now you behave yourself Ginny - listen to your brother. And that gold is for buying your new wands and books only, you two,” Mrs Weasley said before they separated, but she smiled at them both.

Harry and Hermione watched Ron and Ginny get their new wands with some interest. Ron got his rather quickly - a handsome, long willow and unicorn hair wand. Ginny took much longer, but eventually, she found a yew and phoenix feather wand that suited her. She took it with a little trepidation, and Harry did think it looked a little fearsome.

Hermione was then dragged to go look longingly at the newest broom on the market. There was a small crowd outside of Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Harry, Ron, and Ginny eagerly joined them.

“This beauty can go zero to one fifty miles per hour in ten seconds flat! The thing’s got a diamond-hard polish, so you can fly it as hard as you like and it’ll keep going. Irish national team’s just put in an order for seven for the world cup!” the proprietor shouted to the crowd, sounding just as excited as them. There was a little placard on display that said ‘Price on Request’ and Harry sighed.

That meant it was probably far too expensive for her to justify buying when she had a perfectly good Nimbus Two Thousand. She couldn’t help but want to go in there and buy it, though. Maybe if she gave it an endorsement they’d give her a discount.

“Come on you three. We need to actually buy all of our books,” Hermione said and dragged them into Flourish and Blotts. They all bought their textbooks, with Ron and Ginny being able to buy copies in decent condition with the money left over from their wands. Harry bought the usual new volume of the Standard Book of Spells, and the next transfiguration textbook in the series, before the new and unusual started.

This year, the defence professor had assigned a single, reasonably priced volume - The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts.

“I’m feeling kinda good about the defence professor this year,” Ron said, looking at the book.

“Just so long as I don’t have to duel them again,” Harry said. She picked up her arithmancy and divination books without trouble, but when the trio went to look for their care of magical creatures books they found a large cage instead of a display.

It seemed that the Monster Book of Monsters was a rather literal title. The books snarled at anyone who got too close and were sold bound in tight leather straps. Ginny laughed as the trio very carefully but their snarling copies in their cauldrons.

“I heard Kettleburn was a maniac, but those are something else,” Ginny said.

Harry bought a few slim volumes - Beginner’s Quidditch Arithmancy and Wizard Duelling: How Not to Die in addition to her schoolbooks, and then they were off to the Magical Menagerie.

“I still have some money left over from my birthday, and I’ve been thinking about getting an owl,” Hermione said.

“Scabbers has been looking a little off,” Ron said, looking at his rat. Harry thought he looked just like he always had. The four of them entered the shop, and whilst Harry bought some new owl treats, she and Ginny spent almost all their time in the shop talking to a striking magical cobra. It regaled them with stories neither of them thought were true, but it was interesting. At the sound of a yell, the two of them turned around.

A very small tiger, or a very large and very orange cat, was chasing Scabbers across the shop. The rat was running with a speed Harry had never seen him display, darting between cover.

“Scabbers!” Ron shouted. Harry took out her wand and froze both the cat and the rat with a whispered spell. She put her wand away after doing it, hoping no one had seen it. Ron rushed over to Scabbers, picked him up, and unfroze him.

“Thanks, mate,” Ron said, nodding to Harry. “Let’s go wait for Hermione outside - being around this many predators isn’t good for Scabbers,” Ron said, so they went outside to wait. A few minutes later, Hermione emerged - but not with an owl. The ugly, huge, and violently orange cat that had chased Scabbers was in her arms.

“What did you go and buy that brute for?” Ron asked, horrified.

“You’re not a brute, Crookshanks. You’re just underappreciated,” Hermione said to the cat in a singsong voice.

Harry and Ginny looked at one another, and both decided that not saying anything was the wisest course of action. They stayed at the Leaky Cauldron that night, which was teeming with students and their families. It seemed to be far larger on the inside than the outward building could possibly be, and always just large enough.

The next day, after Percy had recovered his head boy badge from Fred and George, they were driven to the train station in fancy Ministry Cars, which seemed to be able to slide through traffic and fit a dozen people inside each. Harry blushed a little when she realised who they were for.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione checked compartment after compartment, but they all full. finally, they found one with only a single unusual occupant. An adult man, covered in a blanket, was sleeping in the corner.

“Blimey, who do you reckon that is?” Ron asked.

“Professor R.J. Lupin,” Hermione said, and Harry joined Ron in looking at Hermione with surprise.

“How’d you know that,” Ron asked.

“It’s on his trunk, Ronald. Anyway, this looks about as empty as we’re likely to get,” Hermione said, and the three of them sat down in the compartment. They were quickly joined by Ginny Weasley and a very odd Ravenclaw by the name of Luna Lovegood. Then, the train gave off one last whistle and started to leave the station.

She was on her way to another year at Hogwarts, and Harry found herself sad, for the first time, that her summer holidays had come to an end.

Chapter 15: Year Three, Chapter Four

Chapter Text

A tinny whistling noise suddenly filled the compartment - Harry’s pocket sneakoscope had started whistling. She pulled it from her robes and looked around. Scabbers had just darted into Ron’s pocket, the ageing rat making little sounds of pain from the noise.

“I wonder what’s making it go off?” Hermione said.

“Probably the Nargles,” Luna said, not looking up from her upsidedown magazine.

“Well, about that. It’s not exactly the most reliable thing in the world. Went off when I was buying the thing,” Ron said.

“Put it away before you wake him up,” Ginny said. Harry opened up her trunk and stuffed the sneakoscope into her robes. Latching it back shut, she was relieved to hear no whistling of any sort.

“Well, at least we know the whistle works,” Harry said.

“So the Minister warned you about Black?” Ginny asked, returning to their previous conversation.

“Said he might be out to get me. I’m - well, I’m a little worried. But if even Voldemort didn’t want to act in the castle without Dumbledore being gone, I think I should be fine,” Harry said.

“Still, he managed to break out of Azkaban. No one’s done that before,” Ron said.

“You need to be careful this year, Harry. Black’s not like Lockhart - he’s not going to be outdueled by a kid,” Hermione said.

“Well, Lord Voldemort lost a duel to a baby, you know. Anything can happen,” Luna Lovegood said, in her strange singsong voice.

“I’ll be careful, Hermione. I’m sure my friend from the Auror office will be back when we go to Hogsmeade, anyway,” Harry said.

“I wish I could go to Hogsmeade this year,” Ginny said.

“We’ll bring you back loads of stuff from Honeydukes,” Harry said, and Ginny grinned.

“Honestly, is the entire reason you three want to go just the sweet shop?” Hermione asked.

“Yep!” Answered all three of them at once.

“But it’s such an interesting place. It’s the largest all-magical settlement in the British Isles, and it has the most-” Hermione said.

“The most haunted building in Britain, yes we know,” Harry said.

“I’m just so excited to see it! There’s so much history, and I’ve read about it for so long,” Hermione said. As Harry started to respond, the compartment door opened. Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, and Theodore Nott were standing there snickering.

“Look who it is - all the freaks have got a compartment together. There’s Loony Lovegood, a pair of blood traitors, Potter the Perv and his pet mud-” Draco began, but Hermione interrupted him.

“What were you saying, Professor Lupin?” Hermione said, pretending like she and the sleeping teacher had been in the middle of a conversation. Draco couldn’t see lupin’s sleeping face from his position, and so his face went white when he heard the word ‘professor’. He shut the door with surprising speed, and Harry could hear him running down the corridor.

“Nice one, Hermione,” Ron said.

“It’s a pity Malfoy isn’t more creative - I’ve heard Loony Lovegood so often, I was hoping they’d get some new material this year,” Luna said.

“Right,” Harry said, giving the strange girl a confused look. Harry knew she was Ginny’s friend, and she seemed alright, but she really was an odd one. Shaking her head, Harry took a bite out of her cauldron cake, only to look around confused as the train began to halt.

“We can’t be there yet,” Hermione said.

“I think there might something moving outside,” Ginny said, craning her neck to look over the others out the window.

“We’re over a bridge,” Harry said quietly, sliding her wand out of her robes. She didn’t know any good reasons for the Hogwarts Express to stop like this, especially over a bridge. Maybe she hadn’t been nearly as worried about black as she should be.

Then the lights cut out. The entire train shook, as Harry felt the temperature drop rapidly. Her breath frosting in front of her, she cast a simple light charm. Soon everyone else bar the sleeping professor had their wands out.

“Should we go ask the -”

“Quiet, and turn out those lights” hissed a hoarse voice. The sleeping professor had woken up, and at his command Harry unlit her wand with a simple ‘nox’. “Stay here, and stay-” Lupin began, but they never heard what else he was going to ask them to do. Something opened the compartment door, and Harry felt pain.

It was a creature of some kind, a hooded figure with a horrible, rotted hand clutching the door handle. It floated in the air, and the scent of sweets that had filled the compartment was utterly overpowered by the stench of rotten meat and salt water.

“Mummy!”

“No, Tom, I won’t do it again. I won’t!”

She felt her pain, her terror, and her desire to kill from the Chamber all at once. She was being tortured by Riddle, she was pointing her wand at his back and thinking how easy it would, she was running from the Basilisk all at the same time. It was a never-ending loop, an endless cacophony of emotion and memory.

She screamed. She screamed in fear, in terror, and in bloody-handed victory. She was in pain - she was afraid - she was a murderer. She felt as if her hair was short again, she felt as if she was had been forced back into being a boy because the potion had worn off. She felt the memory of the wrongness she felt after the polyjuice, and she was still feeling the memories of the chamber.

Harry felt like a fog began to cloud over everything as if everything got more distant -

Harry woke up on the floor in a tangle of limbs.

“Ginny? Harry? Luna? Wake up, please wake up,” Ron pleaded, his voice desperate. Harry got herself up off the floor, her limbs weak and shaking. Flashes of the phantom pain from her memories shot through her, but they were just shadows of the real thing. She could deal with them if she had to.

“What happened?” Harry asked, her voice hoarse.

“First, eat some of this. It’ll help,” Lupin said, handing something to Harry. She ate it without really thinking about it, and Harry felt surprised that it was chocolate. Amazingly, she really did feel much better. Her breathing slowed, the sensation of unnatural cold faded away, and she felt her memories recede. Ginny and Luna came around just after Harry, and Lupin broke off a small piece of chocolate for them too.

“What happened?” Harry repeated.

“You, Luna, and Ginny just started screaming. It sounded like you were being tortured or something,” Ron said.

“I - I remembered the chamber,” Harry said quietly.

“I saw my mother die,” Luna said, in such a matter of fact tone that it shocked Harry. She had clearly been crying, but she was busy patting Ginny’s back and whispering to her.

Ginny wouldn’t look them in the eye, and only Harry knew what she had likely remembered. Remembered running into her crying at the stairs to the astronomy tower.

“We’ll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes. They’re gone for now, but I need to have a word with the driver,” Lupin said, and left the compartment.

“I - it’ll be okay, Ginny. He’s gone,” Harry said. Ginny looked up, tears in her eyes, and nodded.

“Merlin, those things are awful. I just felt like I’d never be happy again, and that was bad enough but...” Ron said, trailing off. He didn’t really seem to know what to say, so he just gave his sister a hug and told her it would be alright.

“What was that?” Harry asked.

“It was - it was a dementor, Harry. One of the guards of Azkaban prison,” Hermione said.

As they were disembarking, Harry was surprised to see a fleet of carriages standing ready just beyond the station. She knew that everyone other than the First Years had to get to the castle by some method, but hadn’t predicted the carriages - or their disturbing horses. The horses were almost skeletal, with scaled reptilian skin and bat-like wings.

“What are those?” Harry asked.

“The... carriage?” Hermione said, confused.

“No, the horses,” Harry said, feeling very confused.

“Those are thestrals, Harry. Only those who’ve seen death can see them,” Luna said, her voice cheerful.

Harry remembered Quirrel’s screams as she grappled with him, her hands burning him. She remembered Riddle’s terror as she stabbed the diary over and over again.

The carriage smelled mostly of dust and mould, but Harry was glad to be out of the rain at least. Nobody was very talkative on the journey to Hogwarts, still recovering from their experience with the dementor. When they exited the carriage, something unpleasant was waiting for them.

“Looks like the freaks didn’t get their souls sucked out. Which one of you was screaming for mummy, and which one was just screaming like a little girl? That one was you, right Potter?” Malfoy said, to the laughter of his Slytherin cronies.

“It was Loony who was crying for her mummy. She’s the only one with one that blew herself up!” Pansy Parkinson said and then cackled at her own joke.

“Shut your face, Parkinson,” Ginny said, levelling her wand at her. She was shaking with fury, and it seemed almost like the tip of her wand was glowing.

“Or what, ickle Weasel-brat-” Parkinson began.

“Is there a problem here?” Lupin said in his hoarse voice as he got out of his carriage.

The Slytherins answered with a chorus of ‘No, Professor’ and rushed off. Professor McGonagall was waiting at the entrance to the castle, looking worried.

“Miss Potter, Miss Weasley, Miss Lovegood? If you’d come with me, please,” she said, and Harry felt her stomach sink. She was sure she hadn’t done anything wrong, so why was McGonagall taking them to her office. Why, Harry wondered, was Madam Pomfrey there.

“Professor Lupin owled ahead to inform us of what happened on the train,” McGonagall said, as Madam Pomfrey started handing out bits of chocolate.

“We’ve already had some,” Harry said, quietly.

“Good! A defence professor who knows his remedies as well as his curses. That’s a pleasant surprise. What were they thinking, putting Demontors near a school...” Pomfrey said. Harry felt embarrassed at the idea of other people knowing about her collapsing. She didn’t like to admit she was afraid of things publicly.

“Dumbledore told them this would happen. Plenty of our students are traumatised enough... Do they need to go to the Hospital Wing for the night Poppy?” McGonagall.

“I don’t need to go to the hospital wing!” Harry said, flushed and embarrassed. She’d never live it down if Draco Malfoy heard she’d had to be taken to the Hospital Wing.

“No, they can go. Not much I can do for dementor exposure beyond chocolate. The feast with their friends will do more for them than anything I can,” Pomfrey said.

Harry, Ginny, and Luna made their way back to the Great Hall, and they were fast enough to blend into the general arriving crowd. Hearing the chatter of the feast, seeing the Great Hall again, made Harry cheer up considerably. While she’d honestly enjoyed her holidays this year, Hogwarts still comforted her.

Harry and Ginny sat down near Ron and Hermione, and we were welcomed loudly by their housemates. Luna walked over to the Ravenclaw table, sat by herself, and tried not to catch anyone’s gaze. Harry felt a sudden stab of pity for the odd girl, who had focused on helping Ginny despite suffering nearly as badly from the dementors. Harry remembered sitting like that at her primary school. There was nothing she could do about it now, though, and her attention was soon drawn by the start of Duimbnledore’s remarks.

Chapter 16: Year Three, Chapter Five

Chapter Text

“Welcome, welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Before you all enjoy the excellent feast and subsequently become far too full for rational thought, I have several announcements. Much as that state of contentedness is the right frame of mind for Mr Filch’s new list of banned items, one of them is rather more serious,” Dumbledore said, and rumours flew across the Great Hall. Harry had clapped for every Gryffindor sorted and mostly found herself wanting all the little first-years to hurry up.

“As you will all be aware after their search of the train, the Dementors of Azkaban have been assigned to the boundaries of the castle on Ministry business. I must warn you all - they are stationed at every entrance to the school grounds, and do not understand pleas or excuses. If any student was to leave the school without permission, there could be dire consequences. They are not fooled by tricks or disguises - or even invisibility cloaks,” Dumbledore said, his tone level and serious. He seemed to look in Harry’s direction for just a moment, then he moved on. She knew, of course, what that MInistry business was - and felt a little sick. She’d have rather taken her chances with Black than have Dementors around the school at all times.

“I would therefore ask all of you to avoid them and to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors,” Dumbledore finished. The Great Hall was dead silent for a moment before a flurry of whispers broke out. It seemed every student in the hall was whispering at once, causing a bizarre sound of a thousand quiet voices. Dumbledore waited for just a moment, then as it became clear he wasn’t done speaking the entire hall became dead quiet again. Nobody interrupted Dumbledore.

“Thank you. Now, as an antidote, let us have some happier announcements. Firstly, Professor Lupin has kindly consented to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, on the condition that he be contracted for only a year at a time. Let us all wish him luck,” Dumbledore said, to scattered applause. Harry, who had been regaled with tales from her friends of how Lupin drove off the Dementors with a burst of silver light, began to clap loudly.

“Reckon we might learn something for this one - oy, look at Snape,” Ron said, and Harry turned to look at her potions professor. Snape was famous for wanting the supposedly jinxed post of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, but this was way more anger than Harry had seen from him at previous announcements. Snape could usually at least pretend to be civil to the new professor at the welcoming feast, but Harry thought he was struggling to refrain from throttling Lupin with his bare hands. Harry recognised the look - it was the one Snape saved for her alone. He must really, really hate Lupin, Harry thought.

“If Snape hates him that much, he can’t be evil,” she said.

“Unfortunately, I must announce the retirement of Professor Kettleburn, who wished to spend more time with his remaining limbs. I have the distinct pleasure, however, to announce that his replacement is none other than our own Rubeus Hagrid-” Dumbledore said, only to be drowned out by a tidal wave of applause. It seemed that almost every house (Slytherin, of course, excepted) had started to cheer and applaud. Harry got up and gave Hagrid a standing ovation. Even Hermione gave off a cheer.

Harry went to bed that night still smiling. She said hello to her roommates, made sure her wand was hidden somewhere easy to reach and went to bed. She drifted off to sleep thinking about how glad she was that her best friends would be in Care of Magical Creatures with her.

She woke up remembering the Dementors. She was just glad she didn’t scream, but her hand shook as she lowered her wand. She’d dreamt that one was in the dorm, hovering over her bed, its hood slowly falling. What was she going to do to it with her wand anyway, she thought. Could she curse a Dementor?

Lupin had managed to drive one-off, she remembered. There was a way to fight them then, she realised. Almost without thinking about it, Harry got her shoes on, took her black notebook from its hiding place, and shrugged on her cloak. She’d almost left before she remembered the pass Dumbledore had written her. She hoped there was something magical about it - she didn’t want anyone knowing what she was looking up this time.

Harry had woken up at around midnight and spent nearly two hours futile trying to find a way to fight Dementors in the restricted section. There were texts on bargaining with them, and Harry wanted no part of that, and even one book that hinted at creating them but nothing on fighting them.

She woke up on her first day back bleary-eyed and wishing she’d just had the courage to tell the librarian she had a pass.

“Where did you go last night, Harry?” Hermione asked as they walked down to the common room. Harry felt shame rush through her at the idea of anyone knowing what she was doing, but forced herself to breathe. Hermione already knew she’d passed out, Hermione wasn’t going to laugh at her.

“The.. the restricted section. I wanted to look up how to fight Dementors,” Harry whispered.

“Did you find anything?” Hermione said, curiosity overwhelming her desire to reprimand Harry for the rulebreaking.

“Nothing that made me feel any better,” Harry said, and Hermione sighed.

“Well, Dumbledore said they’re at the edge of the grounds. I’m sure the Ministry has them well under control,” Hermione said. They met up with Ron, and walked down to breakfast.

“Pervy Potter’s afraid of Dementors. Were you the one calling for mummy, Potter? Or did you just scream like a little girl?” Pansy Parkinson said, apparently finding herself astoundingly funny. Harry felt each barb from the girl who had, unwittingly, pushed her to transition. She really wished she’d done something more painful than stunning her for the hair.

Malfoy put up the hood of his robes and waggled his fingers towards her. Harry, fuming, gave him a very rude gesture in return.

“Ignore them, Harry. Everyone knows they’d wet themselves if they had to fight a giant snake,” Ron said. Harry was pleasantly distracted by the idea of Draco Malfoy having to fight the Basilisk.

“The little git came stumbling into our compartment, anyway. Look right scared, he did,” Fred said from across the table.

“We’ll see how happy he is after the start of the Quidditch season. Reckon that should put a nice big puncture in that oversized ego of his,” George said, passing Harry a dish of scrambled eggs.

“Yeah, you’re right. I am looking forward to crushing Slytherin again,” Harry said. She wasn’t really feeling all that much better, though, and was glad when Hermione changed the subject.

“Ohhh, we’re starting some new subjects today. Divination, Muggle Studies, and Care of Magical Creatures,” Hermione said. Ron looked at his timetable, confused.

“Hermione, my schedule doesn’t have Muggle Studies today,” Ron said.

“Oh, we’re in different classes I think,” Hermione said, and Ron shrugged and went back to his sausage.

Divination was held on the top of one of the highest towers, and Harry was very glad that she was in uncommonly good shape for a Hogwarts student as they climbed what seemed like every stair in the castle of their way there. Ron and Hermione were panting and out of breath when they got there, but Harry was only breathing a little hard.

“Blimey mate, seems like I need to try out for the Quidditch team next year,” Ron said.

“Or - pant - they could hold the lessons somewhere sensible,” Hermione said.

The Divination classroom was quite unlike any of the other classrooms Harry had seen at Hogwarts. It was full of teacups, heavy curtains, and smelt of some strange perfume. The only light in the room was eerie red lights that seemed to pulse from a collection of crystals stuck into the wall at odd places. Instead of rows of desks, there were small circular tables with two chairs each arranged in a semicircle.

Everyone found their seats, and Harry felt her midnight excursion even more as the sickly smell threatened to give her a serious headache. Harry looked away for a moment, and then she saw Professor Trelawney had emerged. In the eerie red light, the Divination Professor cut a mysterious figure. She seemed wrapped in shawls and oddly cut robes, and Harry wondered how she could stand it in the heat of the room.

“Many of you will be arriving to my class with preconceptions of what I teach. You will think it is an easy ‘O’, that it is unreliable or not even magic at all. The muggleborn among you, or those raised in that world, will think that what I do is more cold reading and atmosphere than magic,” Trelawney said, her voice reverberating oddly. Hermione looked at the Professor oddly.

“Of course, some of those are based in fact. I assign less homework than any other elective and must admit that my class lacks the... conventional academic difficulty of classes like Arithmancy or Ancient Runes. Many students who have not previously done well excel in my class - and yet plenty of star students struggle. I will freely admit to Divination being unreliable - and its greatest form, True Prophecy, comes at the will of fate and no other. Yet many of our lesser arts are just as reliable as Arithmantic Prognostications,” Trelawney said, and Harry was taken aback. That was not what she’d been expecting.

“As to the charge of not being magic at all - well, that is a matter of debate. Divination channels a force outside of us to achieve things that should be impossible - to divine the future from tea leaves and crystal balls. What is that but magic? Just because the force you will learn to channel in this classroom is not the same one that allows you to turn a teacup into a badger doesn’t make it not magic. Wizards and witches remain far more likely to be sensitive to the threads of fate than muggles, though one does not need to be able to do magic to have an inner eye capable of Divination,” Trelawney continued, and now everyone was watching in rapt attention as Trelawney turned one of her teacups into a badger and back again.

“Well, that leaves only one last charge - that so-called ‘seers’ use cold reading and atmosphere instead of magic. And to that, all I can say is that many do. Which is why this class can be valuable even to those with the most closed of inner eyes - I will teach you to tell showmanship-” Trelawney said, waving her wand. The curtains flew open, the fires went out, and the headache-inducing scent was gone. “- from real divination. Now, let’s brew some tea and get started, shall we?” Trelawney said.

She continued to lecture them as they brewed the tea, explaining how the reading of tea leaves was one of the least precise methods of divination - but one that nearly anyone who could do magic could use. Harry was sitting opposite Ron, and after a surprisingly nice cup of tea they traded cups and opened their books to the charts of tea leaves.

“Mate, I think you need to send in a complaint to destiny or something. You’ve got half a dozen bloody omens in one cup,” Ron said. Harry was still looking between Ron’s cup and her book. She thought that, perhaps, he might have a bird of some kind.

“I think you’ve got a bird maybe? Oh, it’s got the little thing. Falcon - you’ve got a deadly enemy,” Harry said.

“Just so long as we don’t spend half a year believing it’s Malfoy,” Ron said.

“Mr Weasley, may I see that cup? You must have an exceptional inner eye, oh my. The falcon, the butterfly, the club... and the Grim. A dark omen, Miss Potter, a dark omen indeed. The Grim can mean only one thing - death. A most deathly power stalks your footsteps, Miss Potter,” Trelawney said, her eyes wide. The class erupted into whispers, and then Trelawney moved on with surprising suddenness.

“Well, I can’t say she’s wrong Harry. You’ve got one of those bird things, a butterfly - hey, that’s nice. Positive transformation. Maybe Madam Pomfrey will come up with something new for you. Then the club - that’s for an attack. And, uh, there is a dog-looking bit but that’s not in the book,” Ron said, a little awkwardly. Hermione, meanwhile, was still consulting her table of tea leaves.

“Maybe I will end up duelling Lupin,” Harry joked, a little disturbed still. The Grim wasn’t listed in their chart of tea leaves, but Harry had seen it in the index. She flipped through the book and nearly dropped it in surprise when she saw the moving, full-colour drawing taking up the whole page. It looked exactly like the dog she’d seen in the playground near Privet Drive.

Chapter 17: Year Three, Chapter Six

Chapter Text

Harry arrived at her transfiguration class immediately after divination just ahead of a tide of whispers and odd looks. Not that she wasn’t used to being the centre of rumour, but Harry felt a little unnerved by the whole incident. She knew, of course, that tea reading was imprecise and very subjective - but still, she had seen something that looked a lot like the Grim during the summer.

“And just what has our Professor of Divination predicted for your first lesson this year?” Professor McGonagall asked as her class continued to talk quietly.

“Th-the grim, professor,” Dean Thomas said, studiously not looking at Harry.

“And I suppose she saw it in Miss Potter’s teacup? Rest assured Miss Potter, that Professor Trelawney finds the most dramatic omen and loudly tells the entire class about it every year. None of the featured students have died yet,” McGonagall said. “We Hogwarts professors often like to start the year with a little drama - for example, today we will be learning about Animagi. A most advanced piece of magic, but one of relevance to our studies this year,” McGonagall continued, walking towards her desk.

Then, without any warning whatsoever, she turned right into a tabby cat. There was only a brief flash of whirling light, and certainly no incantation or wand movement. Then, after jumping down from her desk, the tabby cat turned back into the professor. The incident with the grim was almost instantly forgotten, as everyone gave off a round of applause.

Harry listened to McGonagall’s lecture keenly, making detailed notes. The Professor didn’t actually explain much about how one became an Animagus, but Harry thought the fact that she talked about the process more in terms of length and complexity rather than the difficulty of the magic was interesting. She started to think, and her mind wandered to the notebook hidden within her trunk.

She was brought out of her planning by the rather less exciting portion of the lesson, and the assigning of homework, but Harry had all but forgotten the Grim by the time the transfiguration lesson ended.

“I’m not so sure about divination. Professor Trelawney seems to actually know something, but those tea leaves were awfully imprecise and subjective even for her,” Hermione said.

“You’re just saying that because you’re bad at a subject for once, “ Ron said.

“I am not,” Hermione snapped back, and the two of them continued in that vein until they made it to lunch.

“So you got the Trelawney special this year, Harry?” Fred asked at lunch, grinning.

“She told us we’d suffer rejection and failure, then achieve our goals anyway. She knows her stuff, but she’s a mad old bat. Saw a Grim in Diggory’s tea leaves too, didn’t she Fred?” George said.

“Mind you, we did hit him particularly hard with a bludger that year. Thought I’d knocked his head off for a moment,” Fred replied.

Harry winced at the thought.

Care of Magical creatures was outside, and the weather was perfect for it. The only things that had the potential to sour it were that Ron and Hermione weren’t talking to each other and that Gryffindor shared the class with Slytherin. Harry’s book was still bound in its leather strap, as were most of the classes. Neville had his open, and it seemed to be as placid as any other book.

“You all got your books? Good, good. Now, who’s got theirs open?” Hagrid asked, looking around the crowd.

“Um, I managed to Professor,” Neville said. His voice broke a little, and Harry winced. She was glad she’d never had that particular experience, and never would.

“Excellent, come up here and explain to the class how, “Hagrid said, motioning Neville to come forward.

“S-so you just have to, um, stroke the spine, I guess,” Neville said, awkwardly. Harry stroked the spine of her snarling book, and it fell silent at once.

“See, not so hard after all. Ruddy bookshops, not telling people how to open the books. Anyway, go and take five points to Gryffindor, Neville. Now, I got something really special for you all today, but you need to be on your best behaviour. I don’t mind a little messing around when we’re working with flobberworms, but the creatures we’re studying today can be right dangerous if you’re not careful. Anyone not taking it seriously will be cleaning out the Thestral paddock for detention, and let me tell you does an all-meat diet make their dung stink,” Hagrid said, as he led them to a clearing on the edge of the forest.

“What is this school coming to - letting an idiot like that teach,” Malfoy said.

“Dumbledore has gone senile. Letting Potter into the girl’s dorms, allowing this obvious half-breed to teach...” Daphne Greengrass, a blonde girl who often hung around Pansy Parkinson, said quietly.

“I’d rather have Harry as a roommate than you, Greengrass. She’s not a stuck up little junior death -” Lily Moon, a muggleborn girl from one of the other second-year Gryffindor girl’s dorms, began in a rather louder voice.

“Watch your tone, mudblood,” Pansy Parkinson said, her voice full of venom.

“Why don’t you watch your tongue, Parkinson. I’ll have none of that blood prejudice nonsense in my class, thank you very much. Twenty points from Slytherin and you be grateful it isn’t more,” Hagrid said, rounding on the brewing confrontation. Pansy went white - she would not be popular in the Slytherin dorms after losing twenty points on the first day of lessons. Harry thought Pansy was almost considering asking for a week of shovelling Thestral dung instead.

Waiting there in the paddock were a dozen or so of the second strangest horses Harry had ever seen. They had the body, rear legs, and tails of a horse, but the front legs, wings, and head of an eagle. Each front claw had talons like curved daggers, and Harry knew that one swipe could probably cut her in half.

This, she thought, was definitely starting the year off with a little drama.

“Hippogriffs! Aren’t they beautiful?” Hagrid said, and Harry was forced to agree. Hagrid’s standards of beautiful creatures tended much more fang-covered than Harry’s, but the Hippogriffs really were majestic animals. “Now, the thing you need to understand about Hippogriffs is that they’re proud creatures. Insulting one’s a sure way to end up dead. Come on, you can get a bit closer,” Hagrid said, as he ruffled the feathers of the largest Hippogriff casually. It nuzzled its head against Hagrid, seemingly happy.

Everybody else seemed to back away even further from the paddock wall, but Harry, Ron and Hermione moved a little closer. Maybe it was their excess of hands-on experience with fearsome monsters, Harry thought.

“If you want to make friends with one, first thing you have to do is approach him slowly, then bow. Don’t get close enough to be in talon distance, mind you. Harry, why don’t you give it a go?” Hagrid said, and Harry thought that perhaps Trelawney had been right to see the Grim in her future.

That being said, Harry Potter was nothing if not brave. She hopped the fence and slowly walked towards the lead Hippogriff. She bowed low, keeping her eyes on the animal’s talons.

“That’s it Harry... back away-” Hagrid said, as the Hippogriff at first didn’t respond. Then, slowly, it returned Harry’s bow. “He seems to like you. I reckon you’re safe to go pat him, Harry. Buckbeak likes ‘em just behind the ear,” Hagrid said.

Harry cautiously approached Buckbeak and softly stroked behind his ear. Like with Hagrid, he nuzzled at her with his head. She wasn’t nearly as tall or as large, so it took some effort to stay on her feet, but Harry smiled all the same.

“Well done, well done Harry. Take ten points for Gryffindor I reckon. Now, if you all come back for your NEWTs, you’ll get to ride one of these,” Hagrid said. The class then came forward and most managed to pat a Hippogriff. Hagrid handed out what seemed to be whole ferrets, and a few people were allowed to throw them to their Hippogriff.

“If even Longbottom can do it, how hard can it be?” Draco said as he approached Buckbeak. Draco’s bow was a little stiff, but Buckbeak bowed back and allowed Draco to pet him. “You’re probably tame, aren’t you? Just a show animal the oaf-” Draco said, only for Buckbeak to rear up. His claws shone in the afternoon sun, and Harry knew that they were a deadly weapon.

“Protego!” she shouted, and a shimmering shield of energy appeared between Draco and Buckbeak. The Hippogriff’s claws sparked off the pearlescent barrier, and he turned to Harry. Buckbeak snorted, looked disdainfully at Malfoy, and went over to sit down next to Neville.

“WHAT DID I SAY?” Hagrid roared, running over. “Insulting a Hippogriff like that... you’re as thick as your dad. A week’s detention, Malfoy,” Hagrid said, and Malfoy rounded on him.

“You - you don’t speak about my father like that. He’ll hear about this - I’ll appeal this! You’ll be out of here within the week!” Draco shouted, red-faced and angry. He stormed off, and a worried-looking Pansy Parkinson chased after him.

“Thanks for the help, Harry. I reckon Buckbeak only meant to scare him, but that was a fine bit of magic back there,” Hagrid said as the lesson ended.

“Will you get in trouble? Malfoy’s dad has a lot of influence with the governors,” Harry said, a little worried.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Harry,” Hagrid said, though Harry thought he sounded a little worried.

Malfoy did indeed appeal his detention all the way up to the Governors, who claimed that a week’s detention was excessive for a ‘simple mistake by a beginner student’. Harry thought that having to be saved by her was probably punishment enough for Malfoy, though. Remembering how tired she had been after the previous night’s midnight reading, Harry headed to the library just after her last class.

“Madam Pince? I need to go into the restricted section,” Harry said. She really hoped her pass was still valid.

“What for? Younger students don’t need - oh, it’s you, Miss Potter. Do you have a pass?” the stern librarian asked. Harry showed her the slip of parchment Dumbledore had happened to leave behind for her.

“It appears to be valid. I will be confirming its validity with the Headmaster, you understand. Allowing such access to a third-year student is highly unusual,” she said, as she led Harry over to the locked gate that separated the restricted section from the rest of the library. Madam Pince tapped it with her wand, spoke something too low for Harry to hear, and the gate swung open.

“Thanks, Madam Pince,” Harry said.

“Don’t tarry too long,” Madam Pince said, and Harry got to work. She pulled out her notebook and started to search. Unlike defending against Dementors, it seemed that the restricted section had quite a bit to say about becoming an Animagus. The ritual looked long, annoying, and tedious - but Harry thought being able to secretly transform into an animal would be worth it. She daydreamed of finding out she was a phoenix Animagus, or something equally ridiculous all during dinner. Maybe a dragon Animagus, she thought.

Nobody was a dragon Animagus, or a phoenix Animagus for that matter. There were some who assumed the forms of more ordinary magical animals, but even they turned into kneazles rather than dragons. She would feel rather silly if she spent a year sticking roots inside her mouth and meditating in thunderstorms only to discover her form was a rabbit or a fish.

Harry did try and work on figuring out all the labyrinthine steps of the ritual, but schoolwork and her friends pulled her away. She devoted an hour here of there, and that was all for now.

Chapter 18: Year Three, Chapter Seven

Chapter Text

On Thursday, Harry had the unenviable experience of double potions first thing in the morning. She thought, perhaps, that the teachers had shown at least a little mercy and not made it first thing Monday morning. She’d heard constant rumours about one class who’d had that happen, and legend had it that Gryffindor had gone into negative points several times that year.

“Double potions first thing... that should be illegal,” Ron said into his cereal. Nobody disagreed - not even Hermione, who looked a little tired at the idea herself.

“We need to get going unless you want to be late,” Hermione said, after a moment. Harry got her book bag, and the trio started towards the dungeons. It was only after everyone was seated that Snape emerged, batlike, from his office.

He immediately began to berate random Gryffindors about their uniforms, their posture, the organisation of their potions kits, and more. It was only nearly fifteen minutes into the lesson did Harry realise Snape hadn’t so much as looked at her for the entire class. She felt her unease grow as the lesson went on, sure that Snape had some diabolical plan in mind for her.

And yet, the end of the lesson came and went without Snape so much as uttering ‘Potter’ once. He hadn’t tried to correct her on minute uniform violations or lamented her brewing technique. He hadn’t even looked up when she’d handed in her shrinking solution. He didn’t even respond, just writing down an ‘E” for her grade.

“What’d you do to make Snape ignore you like that, Harry? Neville asked on their way to defence.

“I’ve got no idea, Neville,” Harry said, honestly. She didn’t know what was up with Snape, but she’d take him ignoring her over his previous behaviour.

“Do you think the new Defence Professor will be any good?” Lavender Brown asked Harry. She’d been asked that question a few times, her various end of year exploits apparently making her their year’s resident expert on Defence Against the Dark Arts.

“I think he knows what he’s doing, which is more than you could say for Lockhart. But I dunno if he’s a good teacher or not. Snape knows what he’s doing with potions, and look how he turned out,” Harry said.

“The textbook he set was interesting. Not at all like your standard DADA textbooks,” Hermione said, thoughtfully.

“Only you could call a textbook interesting, Hermione,” Ron said, shaking his head.

They’d already gotten their textbooks, parchment, ink, and quills out by the time Lupin entered the classroom. Now that she could look at him up-close and in daylight, Harry saw just how heavily scarred and weary he looked. His robes were shabby, and Harry could see the tell-tale signs of repeated castings of mending charms.

“Well, it’s good to see you all survived double potions. Books and parchment away, please. Today will be a practical lesson, as will a great many of our future lessons. No more acting out scenes from dubiously true books,” Lupin said as he wrote his name on the blackboard. The entire class laughed at his reference to Lockhart and started to put their things away.

“This year is a special one for Defence Against the Dark Arts. You’ve learnt basic spells to help you escape danger or signal for help in your first year. In your second year, you should have learnt a basic disarming charm and how to deal with common but dangerous pests, like pixies. This year, your third year, is where it gets interesting. We’re going to cover the basics of everything from fighting off another wizard to dealing with your first truly dark creatures. It might get a little scary at times - but this is where the subject you all imagined when you heard the words ‘Defence Against the Dark Arts’ starts,” Lupin said. With a flick of his wand, he sent small booklets flying towards each student. Everyone was grinning at one another. Even if he did turn out to be evil, it sounded to Harry like Lupin’s lessons would be a lot of fun.

“That is our syllabus for the year, along with books to read up on in the library for each subject. Essays and note-taking are for homework, not classroom time. Now, with all that said, if you could all wait outside the classroom? Leave everything but your wands here. We’re going to have to go to our practical example today - not you Miss Potter, I just need a quick word with you,” Lupin said. He walked over to her as everyone else filtered out.

“Professor Lupin?” Harry asked, confused.

“You’re not in trouble, Miss Potter. Do you happen to know what a Boggart is?” Lupin asked. Harry, having read her textbooks cover to cover during her stay with the Dursleys, nodded. “So you can see why I might ask you not to take part in actually confronting it today?” Lupin said.

“I - I understand, Professor,” Harry said, though she was disappointed.

“If you’d still like to try it, you’re welcome to come back here after classes have finished. I’d just really rather not have angry letters from parents after Voldemort appeared in the middle of the third-year defence class,” Lupin said.

“I - I hadn’t considered that,” Harry said, and then she joined the rest of the class outside. Lupin led them down the corridors, and Harry realised where they were going - the staffroom.

“What did Lupin want, mate?” Ron asked.

“Just wanted to ask me to do the practical bit after classes instead of with everyone else,” Harry said.

“Are you sure, Harry? That’s... unusual,” Hermione said, and Harry shook her head.

“I think you’ll probably agree with him after this class,” Harry said. She wasn’t sure what her Boggart would be, but Voldemort was a good guess. Although, she thought he would probably appear as Riddle for her after the last year.

As the door to the staffroom opened, Harry saw that it wasn’t totally empty. Snape was sitting in an armchair, one of the many mismatched chairs that adorned the room. Most of them had been pushed to the side, and a table had been moved out of the way too. A large - and familiar to Harry - wardrobe sat at the other end of the long room from the door. He looked up in surprise as Lupin entered and then sighed deeply as he saw the class. As the last student entered, and Lupin went to close the door, Snape got up.

“Leave the door open, Lupin. I’d rather not have to witness Longbottom wet himself,” Snape said, as he walked towards the door.

“I think Neville will do wonderfully. In fact, Neville, why don’t you come up here and assist me with the first stage of this?” Lupin said, with a bland smile. Neville looked extremely nervous, even after Snape had left. As Snape let the door slam behind him, the wardrobe rattled ominously.

“Wh-what’s in there, Professor Lupin?” Neville asked.

“A Boggart. Can anyone tell me what a Boggart is?” Lupin asked the class. Hermione put up her hand, and Lupin pointed to her.

“It’s a shapeshifter - it can take the form of whatever frightens us the most,” Hermione answered.

“Good, that’s exactly right. I asked the staff to leave this one in its hiding place so we could have this lesson - boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces that are also highly magical. They’re one of the dark creatures you’re most likely to encounter in everyday life - luckily, they’re also one of the easiest to defeat if you’re aware of what’s happening. Boggarts don’t deal well with a well-prepared witch or wizard - nor can they affect a group. What really finishes one-off is laughter - but it’s hard to laugh at your worst fear. So, if you’re on your own, your best bet is a little charm - the Riddikulus charm,” Lupin said, demonstrating the wand movement.

The entire class was listening to him eagerly, and Harry thought that defence this year would be very different from defence with Lockhart. As Lupin led them all through practising each element of the spell without the others - first the incantation without a wand, then the wand movement without the incantation - Harry wondered if her Boggart really would take the form of Tom Riddle. She still had nightmares about the chamber, but in the light of day, she could remember Riddle’s terrified face as she destroyed the diary.

“Good work, everyone. Now, Neville, what would you say your worst fear is?” Lupin asked.

“Pr-professor Snape,” Neville said, blushing as red as Ron’s hair. People laughed, not in a mean spirited sort of manner. Neville even grinned apologetically at them.

“An understandable fear! Now, I think I have just the thing for this - the most important part of this charm is to keep an image of your fear transformed to something funny clear in your minds!” Lupin said as he withdrew a photograph from his robes. It was folded over, and Harry could see a girl in a Hogwarts uniform through Lupin’s scarred fingers.

“Is that-” Neville began to ask, but Lupin just nodded before Neville could finish the question.

“Now, do you have something funny in mind, Neville?” Lupin asked.

“I- I think so, Professor,” he said. Lupin stood back and opened the wardrobe with a wave of his wand. Snape seemed to step out of the wardrobe, his black robes billowing in a phantom wind.

“Mr Longbottom -” the Boggart began, only for Neville to brandish his wand at it.

“Riddikulus!” he shouted, and the Boggart transformed. It shrank, the hair grew, and an awful case of acne covered what was clearly a teenaged Snape’s face. His robes were still sized for his adult self, and the Boggart nearly tripped over the suddenly over-large black robes.

“Mr Longbottom!” He shouted, only for his voice to break. The entire class began to roar with laughter, all glad to see Snape (or at least the illusion of him) humiliated.

“Excellent work Neville - now, form a line and you can all have a try!” Lupin said, and one by one the rest of the class turned the Boggart from a nightmare to a joke. Everyone was laughing, and Harry felt herself not even minding not getting to have a go with everyone else. Neville had even earned ten points to Gryffindor for facing the Boggart first, and Harry saw a spring in his step all day.

After her last class that day, she met Lupin in the defence classroom. The wardrobe wasn’t there, but there was a wooden chest that rattled ominously.

“Thank you for your understanding today, Harry. Do you still want to try your charm on the Boggart?” Lupin asked.

“I would, yeah,” Harry said. She had been trying to think all day about what her boggart would be. She had considered a number of options, from the obvious (Voldemort) to the personal (Herself as a boy). Still, she couldn’t narrow it down.

“Very well,” Lupin said and stepped backwards. The chest swung open, and Harry knew she’d been stupid. The hooded figure rising from the chest stunk off rotten meat and saltwater, its visible flesh a slimy, plaid grey. The Dementor in front of her slowly advanced towards her, and Harry felt the panic rising inside her. She remembered the chamber, remembered all her nerves burning as Riddle tortured her. She was back in the cupboard under the stairs. She had to be a boy again.

Yet, as awful as it was, Harry could still move. She could still think. She broke through the panic and remembered that it was just an imitation. A dark spirit in a Dementor costume.

“Riddikulus!” She shouted, and the dementor transformed into Draco Malfoy in a cheap Dementor costume and grey face paint. Lupin struggled not to laugh, failed, and banished the Boggart back into the chest.

“Well, I had expected your boggart to be Lord Voldemort. A Dementor... that suggests that your fear is of fear itself,” Lupin said, pensively. Harry didn’t say anything, lost in thought. “Your reaction to the Dementors does not make you weak, Harry. The worst most of your peers have suffered is the unexpected death of a relative or a pet. To have faced what you’ve faced and still be here instead of running for the other side of the world... that takes true courage,” Lupin said, smiling at her.

“Thanks, Professor. For letting me do this without everyone watching. And, um, for what you said,” Harry said, feeling very nervous.

“So what was your Boggart?” Hermione asked that night as they got ready for bed, quietly. Hermione’s Boggart had taken the form of the white queen from the chessboard in their first year.

“A Dementor,” Harry said. She wasn’t sure what being afraid of fear itself said about her.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked, worriedly.

“I’m - I’m fine. It wasn’t as bad as the real thing,” Harry said, feeling angry for a moment before she caught herself.

“ I didn’t mean that you were weak or anything, Harry,” Hermione said, noticing Harry’s hurt look.

“I know. Professor Lupin said something similar,” Harry said, looking out the window. She could see the Dementors patrolling the boundaries of the grounds, tiny black figures occasionally made visible against the night sky by obscuring the stars. She tore herself away from the window and went to bed, hoping that she wouldn’t now have nightmares about the Chamber and the Dementors.

Chapter 19: Year Three, Chapter Eight

Chapter Text

Harry found herself surprisingly adept at arithmancy. Her education at a muggle primary school had left her with a much larger grasp on mathematics than her pureblood peers, and Harry had enjoyed watching Draco Malfoy struggle with concepts she had learnt as a ten-year-old. This year wasn’t slated to be too interesting - they’d be covering basic spell theory, elementary prognostication, and fundamental mathematical skills. After this year’s start to Defence, though, Harry found herself willing to wait.

Defence Against the Dark Arts had become the lesson she, and most of her year mates looked forward to the most. Professor Lupin introduced them to a few more dark creatures - Red Caps and Kappas - with the promise that they would start a unit on defending themselves against other wizards in October.

She made occasional progress into mapping out the rituals she would need to do to become an Animagus, but Harry was beginning to see why it was regarded as so difficult. It wasn’t difficult in the sense that most powerful magic was - even mediocre wizards had been known to become Animagi - but rather it required constant effort for months on end. One could lack the ability of a great wizard and become an Animagus, but Harry now knew that anyone who succeeded had an uncommon drive.

Harry hadn’t made any more nighttime trips into the restricted section, but she kept up her studies from her second year at a reduced pace. With Black out there, she thought she might need more than Lupin’s two units out of six dedicated to fighting off hostile wizards. Like all of her extracurricular projects, though, she only dedicated time to it when she wasn’t with her friends.

Ron and Hermione clashed as they always did, but Harry was settling into a familiar rhythm. She got her homework done sooner now, no longer so self-conscious about appearing like ‘one of the boys’. She lost to Ron at Wizard’s chess, as did Hermione. Harry thought that was probably good for her, as did everyone else in the tower.

“Now, today we’re going to start learning how to defend ourselves against another wizard. In your first and second years, you learnt spells to attract the attention of an older wizard to help you, but you can’t always count on that. I don’t doubt a few of you have picked up basic hex deflection and some schoolyard jinxes over your first two years here - and this is the sort of thing that’s hard to pick up from a written test. So, I want all of you to line up over there, and one by one I’m going to test each of you on your current skills. This isn’t graded - it’s just to help me know what to teach you. Feel free to use whatever spells you like, as if this was a serious duel,” Lupin said, and everyone immediately got up. The entire class was buzzing with excitement - Lupin’s practical lessons were always the most fun, and this one promised to be even more exciting than facing down a Boggart or a Red Cap.

Harry felt bizarrely nervous as lined up with Ron and Hermione. She, of course, probably knew far more about the subject than any of her classmates but she felt under tremendous pressure to impress. Harry had never really liked being famous, but she enjoyed her reputation as an expert in these sorts of matters - at least, it was up there with being known as Gryffindor’s star seeker. She liked being recognised for her talents, for the things she had done rather than just being the Girl Who Lived.

Lupin was very courteous about the whole affair, making sure to verbalise all of his hex-deflections and only sending amusing and easily cancelable jinxes back at the students. Even with Lupin very obviously limiting himself, Harry could see that he was far more capable than Lockhart had been. Each bout tended to last for around a minute or less, with quite a few students unable to do much but try a disarming charm or send out amusing but non-disabling jinxes. Still, if they did them right Lupin would congratulate them. A few people tried stunning spells, but Harry thought most of them would still be unable to do more than make someone a little woozy.

Ron was the first of Harry’s friends to get to face Lupin. He walked forward into the cleared out space at the front of the classroom, gripping his new wand nervously.

“Stupefy!” Ron shouted, jabbing his wand forward like the thrust of a sword. A jet of red light shot out, and Lupin’s eyes widened with surprise at the strength of the spell. He deflected it, but Harry knew that the wordless shield charm was not what Lupin had been preparing to use.

“Excellent stunning spell, Ron. A good choice to use - effective, and very unlikely to get you into any trouble with the Ministry,” Lupin said, deflecting the other spells Ron tried - a disarming charm and something Harry thought might have to do with slugs. Then Lupin started shooting little jets of coloured light at Ron, which stung a little and made whatever they hit glow. Ron managed a weak shield, but he was soon overwhelmed. “Five points to Gryffindor, Mr Weasley,” Lupin said as he pulled Ron up from where he’d stumbled. A wave of his wand stopped the glowing.

Then it was Harry’s turn. The entire class went silent, everyone watching Harry intently. She looked Lupin up and down, noting how his stance had shifted ever so slightly from the one he’d been in before. The two of them took their positions, the little mechanical clock ticked down, and then they began.

“Stupefy!” Harry shouted, a jet of bright red light roaring from her wand, and splashing off Lupin’s shield just as she thought it would. Before Lupin could begin to cast a spell at her, Harry was already halfway through her own second spell. “Confringo!” she shouted, the blasting curse causing fire to blossom across Lupin’s shield.

Lupin sent a jet of red light at her, and Harry knew that was a real stunning spell - not the harmless marking jinx he’d used on everyone else. She conjured a shield of shimmering light, and Lupin’s stunning spell was deflected into the floor. Much like she had at the start of the duel, Lupin cast another spell faster than Harry could recover from her defence.

“Expluso,” Lupin said calmly, and the blasting curse shattered Harry’s shield like a sledgehammer against a piece of glass. It was only her quick reflexes that let her leap out of the way and return fire. Harry sent a stunning spell and then a disarming charm at Lupin, the less powerful but faster to cast spells keeping him from hitting her as she got back up.

“Fulmina!” Harry shouted, slashing her wand at Lupin. A bolt of lightning shot from it, tremendously loud and bright. It was the most powerful curse Harry knew, and it only made Lupin’s shield charm crack, not break.

Then, Harry messed up a deflection and her wand went sailing into Lupin’ hand. He smiled at her, and handed it back with a look of pride obvious on his face.

“Dumbledore told me I’d be impressed, Harry, and he wasn’t lying. That was an impressive duel from any of my students, let alone a Third-Year. Ten points to Gryffindor,” Lupin said, so the entire class could hear. Harry blushed bright red, the praise from her favourite teacher more than making up for being disarmed.

“That lightning spell was wicked, Harry,” Dean Thomas said.

“I thought it was gonna work too, but Lupin’s really good,” Harry said.

“I was just glad my stunning spell worked,” Ron said.

“That was a really good spell too, Ron. Did Harry teach you?” Lavender asked. The conversation continued along those lines, but thankfully neither Harry nor Ron admitted to anything untoward before Hermione arrived. She’d done well too, her shield charm earning her five points from Lupin, but been too rigid and dependant on it.

None of the other parts of the unit was as exciting, and Harry already knew most of the spells they learnt like basic hex-deflection spells and binding charms, but things like spell dodging drills were fun.

Harry was kept busy all throughout October by Oliver Wood’s tough Quidditch training schedule, but she was determined that nothing was going to stop them from winning this year. Only the competition being entirely cancelled again would stop them, Harry thought. She braved rain and thunderstorms to train for the first game of the season, which was always against Slytherin because Wood’s arithmancy had said there’d be severe weather on the day of the match.

Marcus Flint was apparently also driving his team into the mud, but Harry was sure that was because he enjoyed it. Flint was a brute of a boy and a brute of a wizard, good only at battering other players and keeping him team lin line through intimidation.

Harry returned to the common room one night after practice to find it in complete chaos. George Weasley nearly bowled her over as he made a dive for something on the floor, and Harry had heard Ron and Hermione shouting about something before she’d come through the portrait.

“SOMEBODY CATCH THAT CAT!” Ron shouted, whilst Hermione futilely called out for Crookshanks. Eventually, Angelina Johnson managed to pick up Ron’s rat, Scabbers, and hand him back to Ron. Hermione pulled Crookshanks up, and though he hissed at Ron, he allowed himself to be held long enough for Ron to take Scabbers up to the boy’s dorms.

“That cat is a bloody menace, Hermione,” Ron said as he came back down.

“All cats chase rats, Ron,” Hermione said.

“Normal cats don’t hear me say Scabbers was in my bag and try and rip through it to get to him,”

“He just smelled him, Ron, he’s not-”

“He has it in for Scabbers! Scabbers was here first, and he’s ill!” Ron shouted. Harry just felt utterly awkward, unable to think of anything to stop her two best friends from arguing.

The two of them were at each other’s throats for days afterwards, though they both seemed to eventually drop it as Halloween - and the first Hogsmeade visit - approached. Harry was glad that they had only been arguing for a little while, but she had completely failed at getting them to stop. Harry couldn’t help but dread the next inevitable confrontation between the two pets, and then her best friends.

“Miss Potter, if I may have a word?” Professor McGonagall said after the last transfiguration class before Halloween. All of the Gryffindors had handed their permission forms for visiting Hogsmeade to her during the week, and the end of classes on Friday had an even more celebratory atmosphere than usual.

“Sure, Professor,” Harry said.

“During the upcoming Hogsmeade visit, you’ll need to stay within the bounds of the village itself. No wandering out of sight,” McGonagall said, and Harry nodded. The only thing outside the village bounds that was really interesting was the Shrieking Shack anyway, Harry thought.

“Is this about Sirius Black?” Harry asked.

“It is. The Minister has assured Dumbledore that there will be a team of hit-wizards in the village for every Hogsmeade visit, but do be careful Miss Potter. The Quidditch season is starting soon, and we can’t have you knocked out of the tournament by a dark wizard three years in a row,” McGonagall said, and Harry smiled. Her head of house took Quidditch about as seriously as Wood did.

“I promise, no dark wizards for me this year Professor,” Harry said. She caught up to Ron and Hermione, and then in no time at all, it was the day of their first visit to Hogsmeade. Harry woke up bright and early with the other girls in her dormitory, all of them buzzing with excitement at the idea of getting out of the castle.

Harry, dressed warmly, decided she’d also wear her basilisk skin coat to Hogsmeade. It was an unusual garment, but that was par for the course with Wizards, and unlike anything else she owned it was spelled to keep her at a comfortable temperature no matter the weather.

“Promise you’ll buy me loads of sweets from Honeydukes, Harry? Ron will never remember,” Ginny asked her as she and Hermione waited for Ron in the common room.

“Enough that you’ll hate the taste of sugar for weeks,” Harry said with a grin. Hermione frowned, but Ginny laughed.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione descended the many stairs towards the courtyard excitedly, all of them eager to see Hogsmeade for the first time. As they got their name checked off by Filch and started to walk towards the village, Harry realised for the first time that she would have to pass by the Dementors to get there.

Suddenly, all the sweets in the world didn’t seem like enough motivation to go. But, harry thought, it was too late to back out now - everyone would know that she was too scared to go. She gritted her teeth and kept walking. By the gates of the school, she did see several of the dark creatures, but also something else that surprised her.

Professor Vector, Harry’s arithmancy professor, was standing by the gates. A silvery owl circled overhead, and Harry saw that it seemed to be formed not from feathers but magic. Harry didn’t feel anything like the awful sensation that even the Boggart Dementor had provoked as she walked through the gate.

“I wonder what spell that is,” Harry said as the trio walked towards Hogsmeade.

“It must be really advanced magic if it can keep dementors away,” Ron said.

“Professor Lupin would probably know,” Hermione mused.

As Harry walked towards Hogsmeade, one thought entered her mind - she had to learn how to cast that spell.

Chapter 20: Year Three, Chapter Nine

Chapter Text

Hogsmeade looked to Harry as if it had leapt from the pages of one of Dudley’s neglected storybooks. The architecture was at once utterly familiar and utterly alien as if without muggle eyes watching them wizards had gone and built a village in defiance of all logic. More than a few of the buildings looked like they should have fallen over years ago, slender houses that swayed in the wind like sails.

The people were as odd as any Harry had seen in Diagon Alley, too. Wizards and witches dressed in all kinds of robes and other odd outfits walked along the bustling streets of the village. One wizard rode a winged horse through the streets, and he himself was dressed like a mix between a muggle aviator from the nineteen twenties and a medieval knight. A group of American wizards were chatting loudly and taking pictures next to various landmarks.

They spotted Harry and asked her for a picture. Feeling a little put on the spot, she agreed and soon the magical camera flashed and emitted a little puff of purple smoke. They all shook her hand, one after the other, and then went back to their holidaying.

It wasn’t only wizards who inhabited magical Britain’s largest settlement. A large, solid-looking building made from white marble seemed to jut out of the ground, and Goblins congregated around it. A few centaurs lazily browsed market stalls, and what looked like an Ogre was playing chess against an elderly wizard. The Ogre was huge, nearly ten feet tall and his grey-green skin rippled with muscles.

“Let’s go watch, I wanna see if he’s any good,” Ron said, pointing towards the chess game. It seemed to be nearly over when they arrived, and it soon became clear that the Ogre was both very good and playing for galleons. The elderly wizard soon lost, and Ron looked a little nervously at the sign next to the table - ‘minimum bet one galleon’.

“I’ll cover you, mate. We’ll split the winnings, yeah?” Harry said, and Ron grinned. Harry knew he wouldn’t have just accepted her money without the offer to split the winnings, but she’d spend her portion on buying something for Ginny at Honeydukes or something.

“You’re a legend, mate. Alright, I’ll play,” Ron said, sitting down across from the Ogre.

“You’re rather small for a wizard... Hogwarts student?” he asked.

“Yeah... um, is that gonna be a problem?”

“Not for me. I’m Ba’rulk - you?” the Ogre said as he put the extra-large wizard’s chess pieces back on the board.

“Ron Weasley,” Ron said, and then the game was on. It was played at a faster pace than Harry had ever seen before, a little mechanical clock timing each player’s turns, and it seemed that Ba’rulk the Ogre was a much better player than either her or Hermione... but not, as it turned out twenty minutes later, a better player than Ron. Ba’rulk handed over two galleons to Ron and shook his hand quite pleasantly.

Then the trio made the rounds of the shops, and Harry thought her idea to bring her empty bookbag to Honeydukes was a good one. She bought quite a lot of the shop’s more normal fair - chocolate, boiled sweets and the like - as well as the more adventurous items. Even Hermione bought quite a lot, looking vaguely guilty as she did so.

There were wonders aplenty for sale in Dervish and Banges and joke items of every kind in Zonko’s joke shop, but what Harry and Ron really wanted to see was the Firebolt on display at the sporting goods store. It was behind a glass case, and Harry could see little Norse runes etched into the glass that seemed to glitter in the midday sun more than they should.

“That thing is really overpriced. How many million-pound brooms could they really be selling?” Hermione asked.

“Seems like all the national teams are buying them, and a few of the club leagues are pretty well funded,” Ron said.

“I mean, how many wizards rich enough to buy one can there be?” Harry asked. She was a little hazy on how large the magical world was. She knew that there quite a few wizards in her own country, enough so that if all their children had attended Hogwarts there would have to be significantly more teachers, and many more Beings, but she wasn’t sure how other countries populations matched their muggle ones.

“My dad’s talked about it a few times. Lots of rich pureblood types like the Malfoys owned a lot of stuff in the muggle world before the statute, and I guess they still own that stuff in secret,” Ron said.

They then made their way to the Three Broomsticks, enjoying being able to drink a butterbeer without overpaying Fred and George. The warm drink was welcome in the cold climate of Hogsmeade, and the pub was bustling with locals, tourists, and Hogwarts students. It seemed to Harry that quite a few wizards lived in either smaller villages or the muggle world and just apparated to Hogsmeade. There was a constant popping sound from wizards arriving or leaving.

The pub itself was larger on the inside than it looked like from the outside, and its design seemed to include numerous dark corners and alcoves. The scent of cooking food filled the place nearly entirely, and Harry found it so noisy that it was hard to hear herself think at times. It wasn’t just English being spoken, either. Harry heard a half dozen other languages being spoken. Some were being spoken by obvious groups of tourists from places like Germany and China, whilst others were spoken by Goblins and other Beings.

“On the house for you and your friends, Miss Potter,” Madam Rosemerta, the proprietor, told Harry. She felt a little uncomfortable accepting, but it didn’t look like the Three Broomsticks was exactly in dire financial straits.

“You really don’t have to-” Harry began.

“Well, why don’t you let me take a photo for the wall, then?” she said, pointing towards one wall of the pup. A number of framed photographs of witches and wizards drinking in the pub lined it, and Harry recognised a few of them. Dumbledore, Minister Fudge, Gwenog Jones...

“I guess that’d be fine,” Harry said and found herself getting her picture taken a second time.

The trio said hello to some of their friends as the various students wandered into and out of the pub, enjoyed lunch, and then decided to look around the village some more.

“You two can go look at the Shrieking Shack without me, if you like,” Harry told Ron and Hermione.

“Nah, who’d want to go see some wrecked house anyway?” Ron said.

“You know, I’ve heard people say that there’s actually not all that much evidence it is haunted,” Hermione said.

Harry smiled at her friend’s support, and the three of them walked back to Hogwarts with bags full to bursting with Honeydukes products and fuller hearts. Despite the Dementors at the edge of the grounds, the school had a general atmosphere of good cheer around it. Even Draco Malfoy managed to not jeer at them as they passed him and Pansy Parkinson on the way back.

“Ginny, catch!” Harry said, and then began throwing sweets at her. Ginny caught almost all of them expertly, plucking the bags of boiled sweets and bars of chocolate out of the air.

“This is loads of stuff, Harry!” Ginny said.

“Ron won us each a Galleon off of an Orge in a chess game,” Harry explained, and then Ron told the story to what seemed like half of Gryffindor house. It seemed like quite a few of the older students had lost money to Ba’rulk the Ogre’s wizard chess prowess. Ron quickly became the hero of the hour, winning back the honour of Gryffindor house. Everyone wandered upstairs to put their purchases away, and get changed for the Feast, then it was almost time for the feast.

It turned out that despite the large lunch, butterbeer, and Honeydukes chocolate, Harry still had an appetite for a Hogwart’s feast. She sometimes felt as though she should be sad on Halloween, but the day was too connected to the memory of the aftermath of the troll incident to be a sad one for Harry.

Her sadness for the death of her parents was an old sadness. It was about her life at the Dursleys, the sense of something missing she felt, and not about a particular day. It would creep up on her from time to time, an old wound to her heart that had not quite healed.

“Pass the potatoes, Harry?” Ron asked her, and Harry laughed a little at her gloomy thoughts.

After the feast, it seemed as though the entirety of Gryffindor house had to stagger up the many stairs to their tower. Maybe that was why there were so many stairs at Hogwarts, Harry thought - so the students didn’t all look like Dudely Dursley. As they reached the portrait, however, people seemed to stop and start whispering loudly.

“Let me through, I’m Head Boy!” Percy Weasley shouted, trying to get through the crowds of people. Harry, who was not exactly the tallest witch in the tower, had no idea what was going on.

“Ron, can you see?” Harry asked her friend, who was significantly taller than either her or Hermione.

“It looks like-” Ron began, only for him to stop as Professor McGonagall made her way through the crowd. Unlike Percy having to struggle through, the mass of students seemed to part as one to let their Head of House through. Harry was finally able to see what had gotten everybody so worked up - someone had slashed apart the Fat Lady’s portrait, although the painting herself was missing.

“Professor, the portrait... we’re trying to find the Fat Lady but-” Percy began.

“She’s over here!” Shouted a shrill first-year girl, interrupting Percy. Harry turned to see where she was pointing and saw the Fat Lady hiding behind a tree in a painting of a forest.

“Who did this to you?” McGonagall asked, her voice stern. Harry could see that she had her wand out.

“It - it was him! Sirius Black!” The Fat Lady said, her voice unsteady.

McGonagall reacted at once, pointing her wand to her throat, speaking quietly enough that Harry couldn’t hear her, and then conjuring a silvery cat much like the owl Professor Vector had conjured by the gates. It raced off towards Dumbledore’s office, and the Professor turned to face the crowd of students.

“Quickly now, back to the great hall! Prefects, ensure a headcount is taken when you arrive. Mr Weasley, the other Houses should be arriving there soon. Sleeping bags will be provided - make certain no one leaves the Great Hall,” McGonagall said.

As Harry joined her housemates in walking back down the stairs, she made sure she had her wand in her hand. If Black attacked all the students at once... surely there were too many of the upper-year students for him to face at once, but she felt certain the man who’d killed twelve muggles with one blasting curse could wreak havoc before he was taken down.

The sound of window shutters slamming shut, of locking doors and portcullises slamming down echoed throughout the castle. The suits of armour started to move too, patrolling the corridors with loud, clanking footsteps. Several of the teachers were waiting in the Great Hall, and as the last of the Gryffindors were accounted for by the prefects, Professor Flitwick turned to Percy and the Head Girl.

“You two will be in charge here - keep order, and send an elf to the Headmaster in case of a disturbance,” he said, and then lead the teachers out of the Great Hall. With a wave of his wand, the doors slammed shut with a frightful bang. Then, Harry heard the clicking of locks from outside and saw bars slam down across the doors from within the great hall.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny pulled some of the sleeping bags that had appeared and found a corner. Everyone from Gryffindor was still in their uniforms, but a few students from other houses had clearly been pulled out of bed. A great sense of unease filled everyone, and Harry saw she wasn’t the only student with their wand out.

As the prefects put the candles out and called for quiet, everyone began to whisper about what had happened.

Chapter 21: Year Three, Chapter Ten

Chapter Text

“Do you think Black’s still in the castle?” Hermione asked as she, Harry, Ron, and Ginny dragged their sleeping bags into a corner.

“If he’s as dangerous as they say, surely he’d know to get out before they locked everything down and Dumbledore started looking for him...” Harry said, trailing off. Something about Black’s actions was bugging her.

“It’s a bit odd that he tried to get in during the feast, isn’t it? Black went to Hogwarts, even if he is mad he’d have to know Harry wouldn’t be there,” Ginny said. Something clicked in Harry’s mind.

“He could just be mad or not know what day it is... but why not try something in Hogsmeade?” Harry asked. The question was gnawing at her, and she wondered if Black had some other goal to accomplish - did he want something of hers in addition to killing her? Did Black think she still had Riddle’s Diary - if he truly did want to return his master to life, that might make sense.

“I think he’s just a nutter, Harry. They say Azkaban sends you mad... after seeing one of those Dementors up close - do any of you honestly think he could be sane after spending a decade locked up with them?” Ron asked.

All of them fell quiet for a moment, not really wanting to think about spending a decade locked up with Dementors. Other students were having similar conversations, though mostly they wanted to know how Black got int to the castle in the first place. Apparition was out - Hogwarts was one of the most heavily warded places in the magical world, and only those creatures bound to the castle itself could come and go there by magic. Rumours abounded of secret passages and disguises, but nobody could think of a way Black could have bypassed the Dementors.

Eventually, Percy and the prefects started shushing people, and Harry fell into an uneasy sleep. She had no nightmares, which she was grateful for, but she woke several times to the slightest noise.

Everyone was allowed back up to their dormitories in the morning, bleary-eyed and needing a change of clothes. The Fat Lady’s damaged portrait had been replaced with a portrait of a medieval knight, Sir Cadogan, who constantly challenged students to duels and changed the password every half-day.

One afternoon, after her defence class, Harry lingered behind. As everyone else headed back to their dormitories, Harry walked up to Professor Lupin.

“Professor, I was wondering if I could ask you about something?” she said and was surprised by the slight flinch Lupin had at her words.

“Of course, Harry. Let’s sit down in my office, though. The one downside to practical classes is that one tends to be quite tired after an entire day of them,” Lupin said, leading Harry towards his office. “Tea?” he offered.

“Ah, sure,” Harry said and sat down as Lupin put a kettle on to boil with a wave of his wand.

“So, what... did you want to ask me about, Harry?” Lupin said, his voice hesitant and almost nervous. Harry was very confused at this point - what could Lupin be so obviously dreading answering?

“Well, it’s about the Dementors... I saw Professor Vector conjure something that drove them back at the gates on the Hogsmeade weekend,” Harry said, and Lupin seemed visibility relieved.

“That’s a Patronus charm - very advanced magic. It allows the caster to drive back the Dementors by conjuring a guardian of sorts - a being formed from positive emotions,” Lupin explained, and Harry blushed as she realised why she hadn’t found out about it before. She’d been so sure that magic to defeat a Dementor would be forbidden, that had been the first place she’d looked.

“Do - do you think you could teach it to me?” Harry said, nervously. Lupin seemed to always be tired, and she didn’t want to weigh on him or use her celebrity status to get a favour... but she needed to know how to defend herself against them. She needed to not be afraid every time she looked out a window and saw them floating at the edge of the grounds.

“I don’t think most students your age could so much as attempt it... but you are a uniquely talented young witch. And I suppose I owe your parents that much at least,” Lupin said.

“Did - did you know my parents?” Harry asked, her eyes wide.

“I rather thought you already knew. Yes, Harry, I knew your parents. We were in the same year at Hogwarts, and your father was one of my closest friends throughout all my years here, and beyond. Your mother and I always got along well, though we only truly became friends in our later years at Hogwarts. You remind me of her more and more every day, you know - you might have your father’s hair, but you have your mother’s eyes. And, I’m pleased to say, some of her good sense,” Lupin said, and Harry could hear the pain in his words. She must have opened up an unhealed wound for him, she realised.

“Really? I don’t know much about them at Hogwarts,” Harry said. Snape said a lot about her father, but seeing how it came from Snape, she assumed he would just say whatever he thought would hurt her more.

“Your father was... well, he had rather a talent for getting into trouble. But he had a good heart, and always stood up against the pureblood prejudice that was so common in the school then. Your mother thought he was an arrogant... well, she wasn’t too fond of him for a while. But he changed for the better, and they started dating in their last years here,” Lupin said, as Harry listened utterly entranced by the story.

“I - I didn’t know about that,” Harry said, quietly. She really knew very little about her parents, beyond what she could see in the book of photos Hagrid had given her.

“I’m afraid that there aren’t many of us left, after... well, shall we say the weekend after the Slytherin match for you to start learning the Patronus charm? I imagine you’ll be rather busy training before that,” Lupin said, with a knowing smile.

“Wood’s really driving us into the ground. Thanks, professor,” Harry said, finishing her tea.

She really was being worked hard by Wood, as were the rest of the team. They ran constant drills, and as the weather got colder and wetter they kept at it. Harry practised her feints, bludger dodging, and search patterns until she felt like she was going to fall from her broom. They spent hours with Wood listening to his carefully devised strategies and trying to predict what Slytherin would do.

A rumour ran around the school like wildfire that Slytherin had tried to get the fixture changed and been flatly denied. The weather got worse and worse, and even the simple prognostications Harry tried out of her Quidditch arithmancy book said that the match would be played in extremely stormy weather.

They’d circled back to tea leaves in Divination, using a different blend and method that was more focused on the immediate future. Ron had apparently found signs that Harry was going to “endure a painful loss” but also “triumph despite adversity”, so the future seemed clouded when it came to the upcoming game.

The Friday before the match, Harry walked into Defence to see something awful: instead of Professor Lupin, Snape was standing there like he was ready to teach. Harry sat down and looked at Ron and Hermione, but neither of them seemed to know what was going on.

“Where’s Professor Lupin?” Dean Thomas asked.

“Ill. Too ill to teach, apparently. And as he has left no record of what you have covered-” Snape said, only to be met with a barrage of explanations as to their syllabus. Hermione even tried to hand Snape a copy. “-we shall have to work to the standards expected of you,”

“Please, Professor. We’ve done Red Caps -”

“I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin’s lack of organisation, Granger. I was not asking for information. Now, let us dispense with first-year critters such as Red Caps and Gryndlows - I think something more challenging would be appropriate... ah yes. Turn to page 394, and let us begin to read about werewolves,” Snape said. “Now, who can tell me the difference between a werewolf and a true wolf?” Snape asked, and completely ignored all the several raised hands.

Hermione looked like she was on the verge of just blurting out an answer. Harry meanwhile was trying to understand Snape’s bizarre choice of lesson. Surely he didn’t think Lupin would stick to a changed curriculum once he returned?

“Nobody. How disappointing. I shall have to inform Dumbledore of Lupin’s-” Snape began, but that really was too much for Hermione.

“Please, sir. A werewolf differs from a true wolf in several small -” Hermione began, and Snape rounded on her.

“Speaking out of turn, Miss Granger? Ten points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all. If I wanted your vapid insight, I would have asked for it.” Snape said, and the class seemed to glare at Snape as one. Hermione went red, and Harry saw her blinking back tears. There was hatred towards Snape from them all, yes, but it seemed different to Harry somehow. Without the familiar setting of the dungeon, there was a boldness to the class.

Ron stood up, visibly angry. He called Hermione a know-it-all twice a week, and most of the class had said it at some point, but they all seemed to silently agree that Snape had just gone too far.

“You wanted an answer and she gave it to you! Why ask if you don’t want to be told?” Ron said, which was almost certainly far more than was wise.

“Detention, Weasley... and if you ever criticize my teaching again, it will be worse,” Snape said, sneering. Harry felt herself stand, all good sense having left her seeing Snape pick on Ron and Hermione.

“He’ll appeal that, and we’ll all tell McGonagall what really happened,” Harry said, hoping wildly that the thought of having his authority undermined like that would be enough to make Snape back down.

“No Slytherins to lie for you in this class!” Dean Thomas shouted. There were murmurs of agreement, and Snape turned towards the class with a face full of rage. He waved his wand, and there was a tremendous bang.

“Silence, from all of you. You will make notes on pages 394 to 417, and you will be quiet. Anyone speaking out of turn will regret it,” Snape said, making sure not to look at Harry.

The morning of the match came with the promised storm. Winds howled against the stone of the castle, and rain seemed to threaten to smash in the windows. Harry had to dodge three separate lost umbrellas on her way down to the pitch, as it seemed that even with the weather, the entire school would still turn out to watch Gryffindor vs Slytherin. Draco Malfoy looked extremely unhappy to be playing in this weather, and Harry overhead Flint shouting at him as she headed for the changing rooms. That, at least, warmed her heart - even if the rest of her was very cold.

She got changed with Alica, Angelina, and Katie, putting on the special prescription goggles she wore during Quidditch matches. Her glasses would never stay on during them, with all the quick flying a seeker had to do. As she got them out of her bag, she saw someone had left a note on them.

Saw the storm and charmed your goggles imperturbable this morning!

- Hermione

Harry smiled, though she didn’t know what ‘imperturbable meant. Hermione had gotten up earlier than her this morning, and they had barely had time to talk during breakfast, but Harry was glad for her friend’s support.

As she lowered the goggles, grabbed her nimbus, and headed out into the common area with the rest of the girls she heard Wood trying to speak and deciding better of it. The wind was rattling the wood of the changing rooms tremendously, so cloud Harry could barely hear herself think.

Wood led his red-robed team out onto the pitch, and Harry quickly realised that Hermione had charmed her goggles to repel water. Harry wasn’t certain that was quite legal, but she wasn’t going to tell anybody. Wood and Flint tried to crush each other’s hands as the two teams lined up, and Harry could hear nothing but the howl of the wind. The usually deafening roar of the crowd was completely consumed by the storm.

“Mount your brooms,” Madam Hooch mouthed, and Harry summoned her nimbus to her hand. It responded as quickly as it always had, and she knew she’d be thankful for its power when she was flying in winds as strong as these.

The game started, and Harry soon lost track of the quaffle, the other players, and on occasion even the bludgers. Once, one came out of the rain and nearly took her head off, but she managed to roll on her broom so that it merely shot over her head by about an inch. Lee Jordan was commentating as usual, but even his magically amplified voice was hard to hear over the wind.

It seemed to stretch on an on, Harry futilely searching the pitch for the snitch as she struggled to even stay on her broom. She was soaked through to the bone flying in this rain, and her entire body ached from the aggressive flying needed to even stay aloft in this wind. As her eyes scanned the pitch, Harry thought for a moment she saw a pair of yellow eyes staring at her from atop one of the towers - she thought she saw the dog from Privet Drive. She turned to get a better look, and it was gone.

Then, out of the dark and the rain, Harry saw it. A flash of light reflected off of something shiny in the air... something shiny and golden. She dived towards it at tremendous speed, flying with the wind, and she saw a figure in green robes race after it too. She and Draco flew towards the Snitch, and Harry had to avoid a nasty kick from Malfoy.

More figures in dark robes seemed to advance towards them from the edge of the pitch, and for a moment Harry thought they were the Slytherin team. But there were too many for that, and they rose in the air without brooms. Harry began to hear Tom’s shout of ‘Curcio!’ again, began to feel the memory of her every nerve burning with unimaginable pain. She screamed but gripped her broom tighter as the snitch raced towards the ground.

She and Malfoy were diving fast, and then the snitch turned violently upwards. Harry kept with it, but Malfoy didn’t and only barely managed to land without killing himself. She heard an awful snapping sound and saw white bone jutting out of Malfoy’s leg before he vanished from her sight.

Harry flew higher and higher, chasing after the snitch even as her worst memories began to repeat themselves into her mind. She was nearly there, nearly had her hands on the snitch. The Dementors were closer too now, and she could feel their influence on her mind, feel her hand shaking as the phantom pain from her memories of the CHamber wracked her body.

She felt her hand brush the snitch, and then jerk away in a spasm of pain. She screamed, and then her leg gave out. Harry fell, her broom ripped away from her by the wind. She saw lightning strike around her, and the dark figures of the Dementors swooping down towards her as she fell.

Then, everything went black.

Chapter 22: Year Three, Chapter Eleven

Chapter Text

“It’s lucky Dumbledore caught her,”

“It’s lucky Malfoy broke his leg,”

Harry woke to the sounds of whispered voices and blinked her eyes open groggily. She was in the Hospital Wing, and nothing seemed to hurt too badly. Surrounding her bed were Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and what looked to be the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team.

“Wh -what happened?” Harry asked, her voice hoarse.

“The Dementors came onto the pitch, but Dumbledore and the other teachers drove them off,” Ron said. Hermione was standing next to him, her eyes bloodshot. Ron had his arm around her shoulders, and Ginny was patting her on the back slowly.

“Oh... wait, what about the match? Are we getting a replay?” Harry asked, suddenly sitting up and realising that while lying down didn’t hurt too badly, sitting up did. She must be one giant bruise, she thought.

“After you and Malfoy went down, the Slytherin team scattered from the Dementors. Wood and Angelina managed to stay on the pitch, and she put enough points through the hoops before anyone else got back that we won on points,” Fred said, grinning. Harry smiled.

“I bet Flint wasn’t happy about that,” Harry said.

“Nearly cursed me right in front of Madam Hooch,” Wood said, pausing for a moment. “That was after he’d asked for the match to be called on points without realising we’d scored a dozen goals while his entire team was gone, mind you,” Wood continued. Harry laughed uproariously, despite the pain it caused her.

“Did any of you get my broom?” Harry asked. She’d fallen from hundreds of feet up in the air, but maybe someone had seen it. Everyone looked around awkwardly, and Harry felt tears well in her eyes. Her broom was her most prized possession, and as George silently unwrapped a bundle of shattered wood and twigs, Harry knew it was gone.

“Sorry, mate. By the time any of us found it, it had already been blown right into the whomping willow,” George said, all his usual humour absent.

Harry felt like a failure. She might not have lost Gryffindor the game, but she certainly hadn’t won it - Draco Malfoy breaking his leg had done that. Without a broom of her own, she’d be stuck on school brooms for the rest of the season - and that would lose Gryffindor games.

“Cheer up, Harry. I know you loved it, but in case you forgot, you have loads of gold and can just buy a new one in Hogsmeade,” Ginny said, as she hugged Harry. Harry blushed, feeling like a bit of an idiot.
“I - I just feel bad for fainting and nearly losing Gryffindor the match. What if it happens again?” Harry asked.

“Dumbledore did not seem happy about the Dementors being there, and they got out pretty quickly when he summoned that silver bird,” Alica said, patting Harry gently on the arm.

“We are going to hold try-outs for a reserve seeker, though. You’re the best in the competition, Harry, but you do have an alarmingly high off-pitch injury rate,” Wood said, a little awkwardly. Harry laughed loudly, causing everyone to stare at her.

“Only you would call multiple run-ins with dark wizards an “alarmingly high off-pitch injury rate”, Wood. But... I mean, I could get injured during a match just like anybody else. A reserve seeker is a good idea - hey, Ginny. You should try out,” Harry said, remembering how agile Ginny had been on a broom during their informal Quidditch games at the Weasley’s. Ginny blushed redder than her hair.

Madam Pomfrey kept Harry in the hospital wing that weekend, and after Harry had gotten changed out of her Quidditch robes she understood why. Whatever Dumbledore had caught her with, she was still bruised all over. During that first night, Harry wondered at the dog she thought she’d seen on top of the stands. It did look a little like the illustration of the Grim in her Divination textbook, but Harry thought it looked more like the one she’d seen out of the corner of her eye walking back to Hermione’s house.

Over that weekend, Harry was visited by a veritable parade of well-wishers. Some combination of Ron, Hermione, and Ginny always seemed to be there, and everyone from Dean Thomas to Lavender Brown came to wish her well. Even Luna Lovegood, the Ravenclaw Harry had met on the train, came by to wish her a speedy and Nargle free recovery.

Draco Malfoy was, wisely on the part of Madam Pomfrey, in a bed at the other end of the Hospital Wing. He had a ludicrously large stack of gifts next to his bed, and Harry saw his parents come and visit him. Draco’s mother was an attractive woman with dyed blonde hair, but her face seemed to be stuck in a perpetual scowl. Lucius Malfoy very carefully didn’t look at Harry, who amused herself by making funny faces at him whilst his back was turned.

Malfoy’s leg was in a cast of some kind, and from what Harry could overhear it had been a very nasty break, but a repairable one. Magical medicine could put nearly any mundane injury back as good as new - Wizards tended to only get permanent injuries from dark magic. Professor Kettleburn had lost three arms, four legs, and five eyes during his tenure as Care of Magical Creatures professor, but only one of the legs had been permanent. That had been bitten off by a rouge manticore, the dark magic inherent in the creature preventing magical healing beyond sealing off the wound.

On Monday, Harry walked into Defence Against the Dark Arts with a grim expression on her face. After the last lesson with Snape, she was dreading another. But as she entered the classroom, a smile broke out on her face as she saw a somewhat sickly looking Remus Lupin standing at the front of the class.

“I’m sorry for missing a lesson class. I understand that Professor Snape rather misunderstood my syllabus and assigned you an essay on Werewolves?” Lupin said, and there was a great intake of breath amongst the class.

“He did, professor. We tried to tell him we weren’t up to them yet, but...” Hermione said, trailing off.

“Not to worry, Hermione. I’ve talked to Professor Snape, and he’s agreed to waive the essay,” Lupin said, and there was a huge cheer amongst the class.

“But I’ve already done it,” Hermione said despairingly. Everyone laughed, but it was a fond sort of laugh, and even Hermione saw the funny side.

After class, Lupin asked Harry to stay behind. She felt excitement build inside her at that because it could only be about one thing - Lupin was ready to teach her to fight Dementors. She eagerly followed Lupin back into his office and accepted a now-familiar teacup from him.

“I was going to put this off until after the holidays - I have rather a lot to do this term - but after your alarming run-in with them, I think it best we at least get started,” Lupin said.

“Thanks, Professor,” Harry said, and she meant it. She drank a little bit of her tea as Lupin stood.

“The Patronus charm, Harry, is quite unlike any of the magic you’ve learned in class so far. It relies not on a clear image or intent of the spell in your mind, but emotion. To create a guardian formed from positive emotion, you need to concentrate on a happy memory as you cast your spell - a truly happy memory,” Lupin explained, as he demonstrated the wand movement for her.

Harry remembered her readings in the restricted section and thought there was something familiar about the concept. Was this, then, ‘light’ magic specifically? Was there something special about emotion, about using love, happiness, or hate as opposed to intent in magic? Lupin led Harry back out into the classroom and took out a chest that shook violently. Harry felt her breath quicken as she realised what was inside - a Boggart.

“Now, the incantation is ‘Expecto Patronum’. Let’s try it without the Boggart first - keep your happy memory in your mind, and cast,” Lupin said, standing back.

“Expecto Patronum,” Harry said, waving her wand in the circle-then-thrust motion of the spell. She thought of using the polyjuice potion to be Pansy Parkinson, and on her first try silver light sparkled from the end of her wand. She tried again, and again, and then silvery mist emerged from it.
“Well done, Harry. Even a basic incorporeal Patronus at your age... ready to try it against the Boggart?” Lupin said. She nodded and steeled herself. Even if it wasn’t as bad as the real thing, facing down a Boggart Dementor was scary enough.

Lupin opened the chest with a wave of his wand, and a Dementor emerged from it. Harry heard the high, cruel voice once more. She felt her nerves burn, but it was only a memory. Fighting through the pain, she levelled her wand at the Dementor.

“Expecto Patronum!” She shouted, keeping the memory of that day in Myrtle’s bathroom clear in her mind. The silvery mist came again, but Tom’s voice was louder and louder. The pain grew worse and worse, and her hand started to shake. The mist blew apart, and Harry felt the effect of the Dementor fully. She screamed, and then Lupin banished it back into the chest.

“I - I’m sorry, Harry. This was clearly too -” Lupin began, but Harry got to her feet and shook her head.

“I - I just picked the wrong memory, that’s all. I can do this,” Harry said, hating how her hand was still shaking.

“You might not be old enough to use it - if it’s causing you pain, you might not be ready to channel that much magic yet,” Lupin said, softly.

“It’s... it’s not the Patronus charm causing it. It’s the Dementor. It makes me - it makes me remember being down in the Chamber,” Harry said, not looking at Lupin. She paused for a moment, not wanting to say it out loud. Not wanting to admit her weakness. “When the Dementors get near me, I remember him using the cruciatus on me. Then I remember... other stuff,” Harry said. She wasn’t willing to talk about her other memories, the way she felt a sick sense of bloody-handed triumph or crushing dysphoria.

Lupin said nothing for a moment, looking at her with wide eyes.

“I - I can’t put you through that again, Harry,” Lupin said, his voice weak.

“I... please, professor. I need to learn this, or else it will just ep happening. Just one more shot?” Harry asked. She had a new memory in mind, this time. Lupin nodded slowly and stood back once more. The chest opened, and the Boggart Dementor rose up out of it.

Harry remembered walking up the stairs to the Girl’s dorms. She remembered her thirteenth birthday party at the Burrow,. She remembered letting Lavender and Parvati do her makeup, and how happy she had been with Madam Pomfrey’s potions even despite her sadness. She concentrated not on one memory in particular, but the sense of indescribable happiness she felt at being finally, herself.

“Expecto Patronum!” She shouted, and mist emerged from her wand. She felt the pain, heard Riddle’s voice... but it was distant, like a radio playing in another room. She kept concentrating, and then something emerged out of the mist. A huge animal, with four slender legs, seemed to charge straight out of her wand. Harry couldn’t see what it was, but it bowled the Boggart over and sent it scurrying back into the chest.

Harry released the spell, her hand shaking from both the effort and the memory. Her wand seemed almost warm to the touch, and she looked up at Lupin with a smile on her face.

“That was... merlin that was a corporeal Patronus,” Lupin said, his voice barely above a whisper. “What memory did you use, if I may ask?”

“Lots of different ones... I guess just the sense of being happy that I could be a girl, and of being accepted” Harry said, blushing a little. It seemed almost selfish that such a sensation was her happiest memory.

“Acceptance can be a very powerful memory. I’m not surprised you were able to conjure a corporeal Patronus with it. And in the interests of not having me skinned alive by Madam Pomfrey, do take some of this chocolate,” Lupin said, handing her a slim bar of Honeydukes milk chocolate.

Harry emerged from Lupin’s office beaming, and she felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Ron and Hermione had been waiting around the corner, and they looked at her as she rounded it.

“Anti-dementor lessons go well, then?” Ron asked. Harry hugged him, and then Hermione. “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Ron quipped.

“Yeah. Lupin taught me that spell to drive them off, and it needs a happy memory. I - it’s just, you two were in a lot of them,” Harry said, finding herself blinking back tears.

“Happy to help,” Hermione said weakly, and they all had smiles on their faces as they made their way to the Gryffindor common room.

“Oh, there’s a Hogsmeade weekend just before the Christmas break,” Hermione said.

“That reminds me, Harry. Mum wanted me to tell you to come to the Burrow for Christmas,” Ron said.

“Is that okay? I don’t want to intrude...” Harry began, feeling awkward.

“She was pretty forceful in the letter, mate. Besides, you’re basically an honourary Weasley anyway,” Ron said.

“I guess I’ll come then,” Harry said with a smile.

“Don’t get up to too much trouble over the break, you two,” Hermione said, smiling.

Chapter 23: Year Three, Chapter Twelve

Chapter Text

To: Penny (And everyone else!)
From: Harry Potter (Please continue with your name suggestions!)

I hope you guys are doing okay - Mr Lewis sounded really awful! Things are going okay here. I got hurt playing sport (but Draco Malfoy broke his leg so bad they had to send him to the hospital!!!) but it wasn’t too bad.

The new English teacher I told you about - Mr Lupin - continues to be really good. It turns out he was friends with my parents when they were in school, and he told me some stuff about them that I didn’t know.

Ron’s mum invited me to spend the Christmas holidays at their house, which should be fun. I don’t mind staying at school though. It’s actually kind of nice, and certainly better than the Dursleys.

PS: Attached is my Christmas present to all of you. It’s from the sweets shop in the village I told you about.

Harry folded up the letter, written on some actual paper she’d taken with her to Hogwarts, and slipped it into the pocket of her coat. Normally she’d send Hedwig down to the post office in Hogsmeade to handle sending letters to the Stonewall kids, but she was busy.

“Ready, Harry?” Hermione and Ron asked as they waited by the portrait hole.

“Yeah, I’m done,” she said, and the three of them walked down to the courtyard, got their names checked off by Filch, and started walking towards Hogsmeade. The grounds were covered in a soft coating of white snow, and Harry was glad of the temperature-control spells on her coat.

“So what does the spell Lupin taught you to fight Dementors actually do?” Ron asked.

“It conjures a guardian, um, sort of an anti-Dementor made out of positive emotions,” Harry said.

“Really? What sort of guardian?” Hermione said. Harry considered answering, but she saw they were coming up on the gates. Professor Flitwick was the teacher assigned to keep them open with a Patronus today, and Harry grinned as they got near. A pair of Aurors, wearing their distinctive long muggle-style coats, stood guard rather grumpily next to him.

“I’ll show you - Expecto Patronum!” Harry said, concentrating hard. She had practised the spell near religiously after Lupin taught it to her, wanting to be sure she could do it as fast and reliably as possible. She kept her happy memories clear in her mind, and out from her wand sprang a tall doe formed from silver light.

It walked forward steadily, turning to nuzzle its head against Harry, and continued to walk alongside them. The silvery light of the Patronus glinted off the snow, as
“Woah... that’s something else, mate,” Ron said, his eyes wide.

“That’s really advanced magic, Harry... could you teach me?” Hermione asked, her voice nervous.

“It’s hard to know if you’ve got it right without a Dementor-Boggart... but I should be able to teach you the basics after the holidays, yeah,” Harry said. They were getting close to the gates, now.

“My word, Miss Potter - is that a corporeal Patronus?” Flitwick said.

“It is, Professor. Professor Lupin taught me,” Harry said, smiling even as they passed through the gates.

“See, trainee? That’s a thirteen-year-old with a corporeal Patronus. They’re not that hard,” one of the Aurors said - a grizzled looking man with a prosthetic eye.

“That’s Harry Bloody Potter, Mad-Eye. That’s just not a fair comparison,” the other, younger Auror said. She had violently pink hair, and Harry thought the more muggle-style clothes she was wearing beneath the uniform coat were the epitome of cool.

Hogsmeade was as pleasant as ever. Despite the softly falling snow, the streets were still crowded with wizards from places as near as the next village over and as far as Japan and India. Hogsmeade was far from the largest wizard-only settlement in the world, but it was a popular wizarding tourist attraction.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had great fun doing their Christmas shopping in the village. Harry made sure to buy a large box of muggle-appropriate Honeydukes sweets for the Stonewall kids. She had never really had much of an opportunity to buy presents for others before, and she enjoyed it immensely. She bought Hermione several obscure tomes on Wizarding history that she found in the back of the bookstore, Ron a full set of Chudley Cannons robes, and a book of hexes for Ginny, along with a broom compass. Ginny had managed to make it as Gryffindor’s reserve seeker just last week, and Harry wanted to congratulate her. She got smaller gifts for the rest of the Weasleys, and for her roommates and other friends at Hogwarts.

“Oh, I say - is that you Miss Potter?” Harry heard someone say, and she turned around to see Minister Fudge walking towards the Three Broomsticks.

“Oh, hello Minister,” Harry said. She didn’t really like the man, but he seemed mostly inoffensive to her so far.

“Good to see you my dear girl, good to see you. Everything alright up at the castle, then?”

“It’s all good up there,” Harry said, feeling very awkward.

“Excellent. I’m rather afraid I have a prior appointment, but we must have lunch some time,” Fudge said, as he walked into the Three Broomsticks.

“More like get his picture taken with you in the pub,” Ron said, and Harry couldn’t disagree.

“I have to send this package to those kids I told you about - why don’t you two go see the Shrieking Shack while I’m busy standing in line at the post office?” Harry said.

“Harry...” Hermione began.

“It’s alright, really. I appreciate the support, but I know you two want to go see it,” Harry said, and Ron and Hermione finally broke down and went off to look at the most haunted building in Britain. Harry managed to post her package relatively quickly, however, and this let her do something she was sure Hermione wouldn’t have approved of.

She dashed into the apothecary and bought a number of obscure potions ingredients, making sure to also stock up in general so her purchases didn’t look suspicious. After all, the Ministry getting word that someone bought all the supplies needed to become an Animagus and nothing else was not something Harry really wanted. She made sure to get extra, too, so that she had a buffer.

She would have to start after the holidays, but if her weather prognostications were accurate, she should be able to finish the process by the end of the school year.

As she met up with Ron and Hermione, just at the edge of the village, Harry saw Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, and their respective goons walk past her towards the Shrieking Shack.

“Afraid of ghosts, Potter?” Malfoy said, sniggering.

“Maybe he’s just disappointed he can’t perv on them,” Pansy said. She was giggling loudly, and Harry could smell the alcohol on her breath.

“Don’t you ever come up with any new insults, Pansy, or is Pervy Potter the best you could think up in half a year,” Harry said tiredly.

“Judging by her performance in class, she was lucky to string those two words together in the first place,” Hermione said, her voice sharp.

“Draco! Are you just going to let a mudblood and a fag talk to me like that?” Pansy said. Draco drew his wand, but he looked rather uncertain. Rumours had spread of Harry’s practice duel with Lupin, and Draco wasn’t eager to lose to Harry again.

“Merlin, you’re a wimp Malfoy. I bet you’re shaking in your boots at the idea of trying to hex someone who can see it coming,” Ron said. Malfoy went white and whipped his wand towards Ron. He’d been expecting that, though, Ron sent Malfoy’s jinx back towards the Slytherins with a well-cast shield charm. Daphne Greengrass screamed as her legs gave out from under her.

“Jinxing a lady? Not much of a gentleman, Malfoy,” Harry said, barely containing her laughter. Hermione wore a frown of disapproval, but Harry could have sworn she had heard Hermione choke back a laugh.

The Slytherins left after that, not wanting to be embarrassed any further. Harry started to laugh, and then Ron, and then Hermione joined in.

“Oh alright, it was a little funny,” Hermione said as she saw the expressions Harry and Ron were giving her.

The rest of their Hogsmeade visit passed without incident, and soon it was almost time for the Christmas holidays. Harry felt bizarre packing to leave Hogwarts for them, but not bad. Before she left, Harry had something to ask her Defence Professor.

“Professor Lupin I have a question... I’m sorry if it’s a little awkward,” Harry said, stumbling over her words. Lupin looked a little like a deer frozen in the headlights. “Do... do you know what my parents were planning to call me if-” harry said, pausing. The question was hard to phrase. Lupin seemed to have got her meaning, though.

“If they’d been expecting a girl? I don’t recall off the top of my head, but I have some old letters I could look through. I’ll owl you if I remember something. Merry Christmas, Harry,” Lupin said, and Harry nodded.

“Thanks, Professor. And, um, Merry Christmas to you too,” she said, blushing as she left the room.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny got a compartment together on the Hogwarts Express, and the four of them passed the time playing exploding snap and losing to Ron at Wizard’s chess. They said goodbye to Hermione at King’s Cross, and then Harry and the Weasleys spotted Mr and Mrs Weasley.

“Is that everyone?” Molly Weasley said, looking over her children and Harry. “Good to see you, dear,” she said to Harry.

“Thank you for having me, Mrs Weasley,” Harry said. There was another Ministry car waiting for them outside the station, presumably for Harry’s benefit. Everyone loaded their trunks into the car’s magically enlarged boot, and then they were off.

“We were so pleased to hear you made the team in your second year, Ginny,” Mrs Weasley said as they drove through the countryside.

“I’m just the reserve seeker, mum,” Ginny said, blushing.

“And probably reserve chaser next year,” Harry said. Ginny really was an exceptionally talented flier, especially given the decrepit brooms she had to fly with.

“Yeah, if the current chasers weren’t so good you’d be a lock for the team, Gin,” George said.

“Did Bill end up making it back for Christmas, Dad?” Percy asked Mr Weasley.

“He’s arriving tomorrow. You haven’t met Bill yet, have you, Harry?”

“I haven’t, no,” Harry said.

“You’ll like him, Harry. He’s awesome,” Ron said, and Ginny nodded. Even the Twins joined in, which Harry thought was a sure sign that the eldest Weasley brother was actually as cool as Ron and Ginny were tyring to tell Harry he was.

The Burrow wasn’t covered in Snow like Hogwarts was, being much further South, but it still looked as charming as ever. As everyone got out of the car, Mrs Weasly pulled Harry aside.

“I just want to say that you’re welcome here anytime, Harry. I wish we could let you live here and just ignore those Muggles,” Mrs Weasley said.

“I - thank you, Mrs Weasley. That- that means a lot to me,” Harry said, barely able to get the words out. She seemed so much more emotional this year, prone to tears of joy and sadness.

“Someone has to look out for you, after all. And anyone who saves my daughter from a giant snake with a sword has a permanent invitation,” Mrs Weasley said, and Harry laughed. “That’s the spirit, dear. Now, come and help me with dinner, would you? You’re the only one of this lot who I can trust not to burn water,” Mrs Weasley said.

“Oi, mum, burning water’s an achievement!” Fred said.

“Bill’s here!” George shouted, and everyone turned to look. Bill Weasley was indeed standing in the doorway. He was tall, and his long red hair was done up in a ponytail. His leather jacket, faded jeans, and tanned skin all gave him an air of mystery and adventure, and Harry realised with a shock that he was absurdly handsome. She blushed at the thought.

Everyone mobbed him, and eventually, he made his way over to Harry.

“So you’re the Harry Potter Ron and Ginny wouldn’t stop raving about. Nice to meet you,” he said, offering his hand for her to shake. Harry took it, blushing.

“They were talking about you pretty excitedly too,” Harry said, and Bill laughed.

“I’ll bet. Did you really kill that Basilisk with a sword?” Bill asked.

“Yep. Pulled it out of the sorting hat and everything,” Harry said.

“Merlin. And you’re the Gryffindor Seeker too?” Bill said.

“Best Seeker the school’s had since Charlie left,” Fred said.

Harry smiled as the conversation moved on, and dragged her trunk up to Ginny’s room. She really should decide on what new broom to get, she thought. She could probably get a secondhand Nimbus 2000 or 2001 for a decent price after the Firebolt sent their resale price spiralling, Harry mused.

Chapter 24: Year Three, Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Text

Harry still managed to prove a complete menace at backyard Quidditch, even on Percy’s old broom, and Fred, George, and Ron hadn’t made the mistake of suggesting girls vs boys as teams again. Bill joined in a couple of times, and while he was a decent flier, he was only about as good at Ron. His adult size, however, let him dive faster and stay on his broom better.

Bill asked her one night to tell him the real story of the chamber, and with a nod from Ginny, Harry started telling the story as it had really happened. She left out what spells Riddle had used on her, though she thought Bill had probably guessed, and his eyes narrowed as she described how she’d had to use Gryffindor’s sword to destroy the diary.

“That’s goblin-forged silver, Harry. It’s sharper than any normal metal, and it takes on the properties of things that will make it stronger. The blade’s probably poisoned with basilisk venom now,” Bill said. The three of them were off in a corner, the fire crackling in the background.

“Is that why it worked? I tried some spells on it, but nothing worked...” Ginny said, trailing off.

“It might. Basilisk venom is capable of destroying even powerfully magical objects, even a... never mind. Thank you for telling me this, Harry,” Bill said.

“No problem, Bill,” Harry said, trying to keep herself from giving her curiosity at what Bill was thinking away. Sometimes she wished she could read minds. Bill had clearly been going to say something and then realised he was talking to his younger sister and her thirteen-year-old friend.

What had he been going to say, she wondered? And what could be so bad that he wouldn’t say it in front of them, even after hearing the story of the chamber?

Harry resolved to look up Basilisks in the restricted section when she got back. There might be something there - at least, some books might use the same example Bill was going to use.

Christmas morning came, and Harry joined the rest of the Weasleys around the actual tree in their living room. Harry had seen that at Hogwarts, but it was still a little weird to her to have one in a home. The Dursleys had simply put up (and rather gaudily decorated) a plastic tree. Harry gave out her gifts with a huge smile, and Mr Weasley hugged her rather fiercely when he saw that she’d gotten him a set of muggle screwdrivers along with instructions on their use.

She thanked Mrs Weasley for the scarlet sweater she’d gotten Harry and put it on immediately. Ron nearly fell over when he saw the set of Chudley Cannons robes, and everyone demanded he put them on immediately. So it was with Ron in bright orange robes and everyone else in Mrs Weasley’s sweaters that an owl pecked at the window rather impatient.

“I’ll get it, mum,” Bill said, opening the window and taking the long, thin package from the post owl. He looked at it a little oddly. “Says it’s for you, Harry, but there’s no sender... did you order something?” Bill said.

“No - I was thinking about ordering a new broom, but I kept putting it off,” Harry said.

“Didn’t McGonagall get you in your first year, Harry?” Ron said.

“I think she told me Dumbledore paid for that and said he’d owed my dad some galleons or something,” Harry said, trying to think back to her first year. Dumbledore had of course sent her a Christmas present without a name on it, but he had just been returning something he’d borrowed.

“I think we better look at that before you unwrap it, then,” Mr Weasley said. He got up to join Bill, who put the package on the floor. The plain brown wrapping paper opened itself up with one swish from Bill’s wand, revealing a broomstick. But not, Harry thought, just any broomstick. There was a handle of smooth ebony, and the bristles were all individually selected hazel - the choice of seekers. All the metal on the broom, and there was more than Harry’s nimbus had had, was goblin-forged iron. This, Harry knew at once, was a Firebolt - the single most expensive broom in the world.

“I definitely did not order that,” Harry said, her eyes wide.

“I know you’re pretty popular, mate, but who’d spend that many galleons on you?” Ron said. Harry drew a blank. She was sure that the Firebolt company itself might have given her a discount or something if she’d posed for marketing photos on one, but all the adults who knew her and liked her enough to buy her a broom were either Hogwarts professors (who didn’t have the galleons) or the Minister, and she couldn’t see him not signing the note.

Bill started casting spells rapidly, causing the firebolt to glow a dozen different colours in as many seconds. It seemed to play twice as many notes, and little motes of multicoloured light rose from it.

“Son?” Mr Weasley asked.

“As far as I can tell, it doesn’t look cursed - and it’d be pretty hard to hide something like that without disrupting the charms on the broom itself,” Bill said.

“Still, better safe than sorry. Tell you what, Harry - I’ll pop into the Department of Magical Games and Sports, get them to take a look at it tomorrow. You should have it back before the end of the holiday,” Mr Weasley said, smiling at her. Harry wanted to protest - if a Gringotts curse-breaker said it wasn’t cursed... but she was just glad to get a free firebolt, even if she had to wait a little bit.

“Thanks, Mr Weasley,” Harry said, and immediately turned to Ron and Ginny to begin getting excited over the firebolt. Just before Harry and Bill got up to help Mrs Weasley start cooking lunch (those two being the only ones Mrs Weasley would trust not to burn water) another owl arrived. This one Harry recognised as a Hogwarts owl, and it only carried a letter. Harry opened it, curious as to who’d be writing to her over the holidays from Hogwarts (almost all of her friends had gone home).

Dear Harry

I hope you are enjoying your Christmas holiday, as I am at Hogwarts. I looked through some letters I happened to keep, and the Headmaster kindly let me use his Pensieve. Your mother spent some months thinking (as we now know correctly) that she was having a girl. She wanted to continue her family’s tradition of naming girls after flowers, and your father wanted a name that started on ‘H’.

They had settled on Holly when they began to have to look for boy’s names. You were, I believe, named for your grandfather on your mother’s side, who died shortly before you were born.

I hope this is of some help to you.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year,

Remus Lupin

Harry blinked back tears and failed. Everyone crowded around, concerned, but she simply showed them the letter. Ginny hugged her, and Harry thought Professor Lupin’s letter was amongst the best Christmas presents she’d ever gotten. It might, she thought, even be nearly as good as a firebolt.

She knew at once that she’d found the name she’d been looking for. She didn’t have the... intense dislike of her old name that some of the Stonewall kids had. Perhaps because she’d always associated it with her parents, who even before she’d known their true fate had been distinctly not the Dursleys.

Holly smiled as everyone began to wind down. She helped Mrs Weasley and Bill cook a huge Christmas lunch and was surprised when Luna Lovegood and her father visited during lunch. They didn’t stay for long, but Mrs Weasley made sure to load them down with food. Holly ate far too much food, drank enough butterbeer to feel a little lightheaded, and sang badly along with the rest of the Weasleys.

In the afternoon, Fred and George motioned Holly to follow them upstairs. They led her into their room, which felt to her a little like being invited into the lion’s den. The twin’s room had a rickety-looking bunkbed and magical gizmos scattered everywhere. Huge sheets of parchment, covered in diagrams and recipes, were stuck on the walls.

“Say, Harry -” Fred began, but then paused.

“What are you thinking name wise?” George asked.

“I - I think I will go with Holly,” she said, feeling happy that she’d said it aloud to someone.

“Excellent. Holly, we happen to have a Christmas present aside from that Weasley Hair Change potion we gave you in front of everyone else,” Fred said.

“See, this one we can’t exactly have Mum knowing about,” George continued, drawing a folded piece of parchment from his pocket and handing it to Holly. She took it gingerly, a little confused as to why a blank piece of old parchment required all this secrecy.

“Now, it was a real struggle deciding to give this to you... but we don’t really need it anymore, and with all the dark wizards out to get you, we decided your need was greater,” Fred said.

“Um, thanks guys... but this is just a piece of old parchment?” Harry asked.

“Or so it appears. If you’d demonstrate to Holly here the correct operation of the Maurader’s Map?” George said.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” Fred said and tapped his wand on the unfolded parchment. Words began to appear in a bright green ink as if written by an invisible quill.

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers

are proud to present

THE MARAUDER’S MAP

Holly’s eyes went wide as she saw the enchanted parchment, and she gave the twins a furious look.

“An enchanted parchment? Don’t you remember last year?” She whispered furiously.

“Hold your horses, Holly. We’ve checked it out ourselves - it’s a mighty complicated bit of runework, but it’s nothing like that diary,” George said, and Holly calmed down.

The introduction faded away, to be replaced with what looked to Holly like an intricate map of Hogwarts. Little dots with names underneath them walked around the corridors, and Holly gasped as she realised that the dots were people - and that they were moving around in real-time.

“This... this is incredible, guys,” Holly said. She couldn’t believe the Twins were just giving this to her.

“Well, we reckon you’ll put it to better use than us,” Fred said.

“Consider it a gift for saving Ginny last year,” George said and ruffled Holly’s hair.

As the evening grew on, Holly approached Mr Weasley. She was very nervous, a mix of dread and excitement that nearly had her stumble over her words.

“Mr Weasley? Do... do you know how to get names officially changed?” she asked.

“You’ve decided, then?” he said, and Holly nodded. “Well, it’s fairly simple if you’re just changing first names. Even simpler if you’re not changing your initials - you can do that by owl post. I’ll help you with the letter tomorrow,” he said, and Holly smiled.

Even the Weasleys slipped up from time to time, but Holly knew they didn’t mean it. She still felt a little thrill whenever anyone called her Holly, and before the holiday was over she was officially ‘Holly Jane Potter’. She sent letters to Hogwarts to get her name changed there, and only a day after she’d received notice that her name had been approved, there was an article in the Daily Prophet about it. It wasn’t negative, but Holly thought it was more of the same - accepting because she was politically convenient.

Two days before the end of the holiday, Mr Weasley came back from the Ministry with Holly’s firebolt under his arm.

“I’m happy to say that it is officially free of any curses, hexes, or jinxes,” Mr Weasley said, handing it back to Holly. She touched it almost reverently and looked to everyone else. She, Ron, Ginny, the Twins, and Bill ran out to try the broomstick out. It was a menace, so fast that low-level flying was almost dangerous and yet Holly could turn better, even at low speeds, than on her nimbus.

She could tell why a firebolt cost so much gold, and Holly looked forward very much to winning the Quidditch cup on one.

Chapter 25: Year Three, Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Text

Holly’s return to Hogwarts was a nervous one. She felt emboldened by her new name, but she knew some people would try to twist it against her. She knew how to fight Dementors now, as was learning all kinds of new magic both in and outside of class. Sirius Black was still after her, and she knew that Voldemort was still out there. He might just be haunting an Albanian forest for now, but Holly knew that he would not be content to live out whatever life his dark magic had granted him.

“Thank you for the books, Holly!” Hermione said, hugging her as she entered their compartment on the Hogwart’s express. Holly hugged her back, smiling. Neville Longbottom joined Holly, Hermione, and Ginny in the compartment, and they all had a pleasant time talking about their holidays.

“Oh look, Draco... it’s Harry Potter and his freakshow,” Pansy Parkinson said as she and Draco walked past Holly’s compartment.

“Now now Pansy, Harry has changed his name - he must be truly afraid of Black to try something like that,” Draco said.

Holly felt rage well up within her, and she wasn’t alone. Ron got to his feet, as did Ginny.

“Get out of here, Malfoy. Or this time I’m not giving your wand back,” Holly said. She was standing now, her own wand in her hand.

“You’re brave enough on the train, Potter, but given how you’ve spent the year cowering from Black... well, if it was me I’d want my revenge,” Malfoy said, and Holly felt a little nonplussed. Her revenge for what?

“Did you forget the last two years, Malfoy, or are you just inbred enough to want me to hex you?” Holly asked.

“Where are your goons, Malfoy? Busy beating up a first-year for some sweets?” Ginny asked.

“Do... do you not know Potter?” Draco said, sounding genuinely astonished. Holly looked at him, confused.

“He really doesn’t,” Pansy said, and the two of them started laughing uncontrollably. Holly slammed the door shut, thoroughly confused. What could entice her to actually go after Sirius Black - what, she wondered, had Black done to her that would make her seek out an extremely dangerous dark wizard?

“He was probably just messing with you, mate,” Ron said.

“Malfoy would like nothing better than for Black to get you, Holly,” Hermione said, worried.

They tossed around a few theories, but none of them made much sense. Soon enough Malfoy’s bizarre taunt was forgotten, and everyone turned their minds towards exploding snaps and Bertie Bot’s Every Flavour Beans.

That night, Holly slipped out of the Gryffindor common room under her invisibility cloak and headed towards one of the collapsed secret passages Fred and Geroge had shown her on the Maurder’s Map. As she walked, she noticed something odd about the map - up in the boy’s dorms, Holly could see a second tiny dot in Ron’s bed, labelled ‘Scabbers’. None of the other pets, save Mrs Norris, showed up on the map. Holly wondered if the twins had added him in as a joke, or something. Holly knew they were pretty good at runework and enchanting.

She kept the map out and made sure to take a detour around Snape. After fifteen careful minutes, she tapped her wand in the correct order on the seven panels, then slipped into the secret passage. Much further down there had been a cave-in, but behind the first bend was stable enough for Holly’s purposes.

She first cast an anti-fume spell, conjuring an enchanted wind to softly blow potions fumes away. She’d have to set up some runes in the future - her spell would only last a few hours - but it was good enough for now. She set up her spare cauldron, the potions supplies she’d bought in Hogsmeade, and got to work. The first thing she needed to brew for the Animagus ritual was a human-safe sticking solution, to hold a mandrake leaf inside her mouth for a month.

That was a simple enough potion, and Holly quickly set it to brewing and started to read the book on Basilisk’s she’d borrowed from the library. It was a fascinating read, but she didn’t see what bill could have been referring to. She did see that the first wizard to have hatched a Basilisk - Herpo the Foul - was said to have ‘invented many other magicks of the evilest nature’.

As she stirred her sticking solution, Holly noticed something odd. Herpo the Foul was born in 576 and died in 462, which wasn’t an unusual lifespan for a wizard, but the book had a typo in it - not unknown for wizarding books - and said he’d been born in BC but died in AD. That really was odd, Holly thought. Maybe she should ask Hermione to help her look him up.

Then her sticking solution was ready, and Holly dipped her Mandrake leaf in it. She carefully dipped all of it save the stem, and then placed it in her mouth - on the inside her left cheek. The sticking sensation was odd, and Holly ran her tongue over the leaf. That was perfectly safe - the solution only stuck once - but it was a very strange sensation.

“Say, Hermione, do you know anything about Herpo the Foul?” Holly asked her friend the next morning.

“Oh, I came across him last year. He bred the first Basilisk and invented some dark curse called Fiendfyre. Why, Holly?” Hermione said.

“You know Ron’s brother Bill, the curse breaker? He wanted to hear what had really happened in the Chamber, and he said something odd about Basilisk venom - that being coated in it might have let Gryffindor’s sword destroy something he wouldn’t talk about. I looked up Basilisk’s to see if someone else had used the same example, and the book had this really weird error - I think they put an AD on Herpo’s date of death instead of a BC,” Holly explained.

“That’s... that’s odd. It wasn’t Serpents Most Foul, was it?” Hermione asked.

“No, it was The King of All Snakes. Why?” Holly said.

“Because I remember the same error, and if it’s been repeated twice...”

“What, Hermione?” Holly asked.

“If it’s been repeated twice, it might not be an error,” Hermione said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s nearly a thousand years - even wizards don’t live that long,” Holly said.

“Some wizards do,” Hermione said, quietly, and Holly felt very stupid. Nicholas and Perennelle Flamel had done just that, and Holly had touched the Philosopher’s Stone they used to do so.

“But he can’t have had a Philospher’s stone - Flamel invented them, and on one else has been known to make one since,” Holly said.

“We need to do more research,” Hermione said, and Holly agreed. They agreed to meet in the library after class and try and find out what the truth was about Herpo the Foul.

“Patil, Parvati?” Snape called out as he took the roll in potions class that morning.

“Here,” Parvati responded, looking at Holly nervously.

“Potter, H- Holly?” Snape said, sounding like he was choking the words out. He still refused to look at her.

“Here,” she said, and Holly wondered what was going on with the surly Potions Master. This was getting absurd - Snape’s reaction to Holly’s transition was at first sneering bigotry, as many of the Slytherins, but what had caused him to act like this, Holly wondered. Had Dumbledore talked to him, and this was his compromise?

After classes, Holly met Hermione at the library and they tried to research Herpo the Foul further. Every book they could find printed the same date of death, 462AD, though a few didn’t include a date at all. Accounts of his death were fairly consistent, with his own curse being turned on him and burning to death along the with Statue of Zeus in Constantinople.

“What magic could allow him to live so long?” Holly said, feeling like that was a crucial element to the Dark Wizard’s tale that had clearly been left out. Even biographies of the man refused to discuss it, with the only hints being descriptions of his long life as having been granted by ‘the darkest of magic’.

“Something too dark for the Restricted Section, which worries me... Holly, I don’t think we’ll find an answer here. But the Diary... you said Riddle seemed to think he could use it to come back?” Hermione said.

“Yeah he... oh,” Holly said. Had the Diary been more than a memory preserved in ink and paper - or was there some sort of dark magic that would allow such a being to live for a thousand years? Herpo the Foul had been a constant presence in the Mediterranean for nearly a millennium, with even Emperors paying him tribute.

From what they’d been able to find, Herpo the Foul had only been killed after his enemies tricked him into a powerful magical trap and then unleashed his own cursed flames against him. Fiendfyre was apparently a very dark curse that summoned beasts made of cursed fire that devoured all they touched, multiplying as they did so. Most books regarded them as uncontrollable, though some books noted that throughout history, a few powerful dark wizards seemed to have some measure of control over it - Herpo, Salazar Slytherin, and Voldemort were all reputed to have controlled it.

Given that Herpo had been burned to death by Fiendfyre he summoned, Holly doubted that the control was that absolute.

They gave up searching in the Library, and Holly remembered her promise to teach Hermione the Patronus charm after the Christmas break. They’d met back up with Ron and Ginny at that point.

“Hermione, did you want to get started on the Patronus charm?” Holly asked as they all sat at dinner.

“Oh, yes please Holly - if you have the time,” Hermione said.

“I wouldn’t mind having a crack at it myself, mate,” Ron said.

“Oh yeah, I wanna try too,” Ginny said.

“I guess that’s fine - it is a really difficult spell, and you just might not be old enough, Ginny,” Holly warned, but the four of them found an unused classroom all the same. They cleared a space in the centre, and then Holly went to the front. She felt silly, like she was wearing clothes far too big for her, but she explained the basic theory of the Patronus charm, the wand motions, and the incantation.

They were only able to practice for about half an hour, and only Hermione had been able to get a puff of silvery mist from her wand, but it was a good start. They returned to the common room in good spirit, and the girls sat around the fire chatting about nothing in particular as Ron went up to put his books away.

He came down holding a bedsheet, stained with a streak of fresh blood, and his face white with rage.

“LOOK AT WHAT THAT MENACE DID TO SCABBERS,” Ron shouted, tears welling in his eyes. He shook the bedsheet in Hermione’s face, and Holly felt an awful paralysis. She hated taking sides between her two best friends, and Holly knew this would be a serious row.

“Ron, Crook-” Hermione began, but Ron cut her off.

“I FOUND THIS ON THE FLOOR... AN ORANGE CAT HAIR!” he shouted, showing Hermione the price of cat hair. It did look like it could have been Crookshank’s, but...

“THAT COULD HAVE BEEN-”

“YOUR CAT KILLED HIM-”

Holly had an idea. Nobody was looking at her - all eyes were on Ron and Hermione - so she quickly got out the Map. Shielding it from prying eyes with her body, she scanned it desperately hoping it would show her what she wanted. He wasn’t anywhere in the tower or the rest of the castle, and just as Holly felt despair grip her she glanced at the map of the grounds and saw the tiny dot she was looking for. Scabbers was alive and near Hagrid’s hut.

“Mischief managed,” Holly whispered as she put the Map away and stood up. “Come with me, you two,” Holly said, and as they both ignored her she started to bodily drag them.

“Geroff!” Ron said, and Hermione turned to look at Holly sharply.

“You two need to come with me, because I need to show you something in private... and you too, Ginny” Holly said. The four of them followed Holly up to Ron’s dormitory room, which was thankfully empty.

“What did you need to show us?” Ginny asked.

“This. I solemnly swear I’m up to no good,” Holly said, touching her wand to the map. Ron and Hermione, who had been shouting at each other the whole way up, fell silent.

“What - what is that?” Hermione asked.

“It’s a map of the castle - Fred and George gave it to me at Christmas. They pinched it from Filtch years ago, but that’s not important right now. What’s important is this,” Holly said, and showed her friends the little dot that said “Scabbers”.

“He’s alive!” Ron said, his voice hoarse.

“Wait, who’s that other dot near him? I can’t make it out - and it’s gone. Does Crookshanks show up, Holly?” Ginny asked, and Holly shook her head.

“That’s... odd,” Hermione said, not looking at Ron.

“Don’t you try and make Scabbers into -” Ron began, but Hermione looked at him.

“I’m - I’m sorry, Ron. I don’t want Crookshanks to hurt Scabbers, but he’s a cat. Cats chase rats!” Hermione said.

“Yeah, well,” Ron said, but Ginny cut him off.

“Well what? Come on, Ron. Everyone else with a rat keeps them in a cage when they’re not there. There are cats running all over this tower - even Percy kept Scabbers in a cage at school,” Ginny said.

“I was going to say we should go get Scabbers,” Ron said, defensively. Holly was sure that wasn’t what he had planned to say, but she was happy to pretend otherwise.

“We can’t go outside after dark - especially not Holly,” Hermione said.

“Can I borrow your cloak and the Map, mate?” Ron asked, and Holly nodded. They all went downstairs, though Ron was under the cloak and slipped out of the portrait hole without being noticed.

Holly still wanted to know why Scabbers alone of all the student’s pets turned up on the Map. Something about it felt wrong to her. Still, Ron returned after about half an hour with Scabbers in tow and without an issue. He and Hermione were still a little touchy with one another, but Holly thought she’d defused the situation admirably.

Holly woke to distant screams and the sound of spellfire.

Chapter 26: Year Three, Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Text

Holly grabbed her wand and leapt out of bed, ignoring her roommates’ murmurs of protest. She ran down the stairs as fast as she could, even as bangs and shouts echoed from the common room. She held her wand out in front of her, dressed in pyjama pants and an oversized muggle t-shirt, and rounded the last corner before the common room.

Jets of light were deflected in every direction off of a shield charm, and Holly felt her blood run cold as she saw the man casting it. Sirius Black was in the centre of the common room, holding off what seemed to be the entire Third-Year boy’s dorm room by himself. Dean, Ron, Neville, and Seamus were on the boy’s stairs, casting spells at Black. Percy Weasley was stunned on the floor of the common room, and Holly realised that Black was using Percy’s wand.

“Stupefy!” Holly shouted, her stunning spell slamming into Black’s shield with a sound like a struck gong. He turned towards her, eyes wide. She didn’t let up and whipped her wand towards him once more. “Fulmina! Confringo! Bombarda Maxima!” Holly shouted, sending curse after curse at Black.

He dodged her lightning cruse, disarmed Dean, and blocked the other two with Dean’s wand in his left hand. She sent another crackling bolt of lightning at him, and that broke his shield, but Black dodged the stunner she followed up with. He stunned Neville, who fell bonelessly down the stairs. Ron and Seamus went down with him, all three boys landing in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. Holly could hear more and more students coming to check out what was going on, and smoke from all her blasting curses filled the common room.

She advanced on Black, rushing to take cover behind a solid-looking sofa. Black sent a disarming spell her way, but she deflected it back at him and sent Percy’s wand flying. Ron had managed to get back up and was firing more stunning spells at Black.

“Fulmina!” Holly shouted, and her curse cut through Black’s left-handed shield charm. Black managed to just avoid the curse and reached into his grimy jacket. He threw out some kind of powder, and then everything went dark. For just a moment Holly thought she saw a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness, and then she conjured enough wind to blow the darkness powder out of the open portrait hole.

“Is everyone okay?” Holly shouted, her ears ringing from all the curses in an enclosed room.

“We’re fine. Neville and - Holly, you shouldn’t be down here!” Ron shouted, but Holly shook her head. She used the counter-stunning charm on Neville and Percy and picked up Percy’s wand from where Black had apparently dropped it. She handed it back to the groggy Head Boy, and Holly noticed a bruise on the back of his head that definitely hadn’t been caused by a stunning spell.

Professor McGonagall rushed through the portrait hole in her cat form, transforming as she landed after leaping through. She pointed her wand at them for a moment, then let it drop to her side.
“What on earth has been going on?” she asked, gesturing to the state of the common room. Sofas had been exploded, bits of wood lay everywhere, and a few small fires burned. Percy put them out with silent water conjuring charms.

“It - it was Sirius Black, Professor,” Ron said.

“Black? Merlin, are you alright Potter? How did he get up the staircase?” McGonagall said.

“He didn’t go into the girl’s dorms. I woke up to see him standing over my bed with a bloody great knife in one hand and Percy’s wand in the other. I - well I disarmed the knife off him, and then we fought him down the staircase,” Ron said.

“And by Merlin, what possessed you to run towards Black Miss Potter?”

“I didn’t know it was Black! I just heard shouting and spells going off,” Holly said.

“And everyone is unharmed?” McGonagall asked.

“Black punched me fairly hard, Professor, but nothing Madam Pomfrey can’t fix,” Percy said.

“The other teachers should be here soon - we’ll take you then, Mr Weasley. Fifty points to Gryffindor for a most sterling defence of the tower - and you, Miss Potter will head back up that staircase!” McGonagall said.

“I’m going, professor,” Holly said, feeling the tension drain out of her. Everyone was alright, Black had been forced to flee, and she’d got there in time.

“How did Black get in, Sir Cadogan?” Holly heard McGonagall ask the portrait.

“That dirty-looking fellow? Told me he was a Gryffindor and had the password to prove it,” Sir Cadogan said.

Holly waved the various girls on the stairs back up, and she was immediately bombarded with questions in her dormitory room. She gave a basic summary of what happened, but even as she did so something began to eat at her. Black hadn’t used any even slightly dark magic during the fight. He’d cast no curses, not even normal duelling ones. All Black had done was cast disarming, stunning, and shield charms.

That, Holly thought, was not the style of a deranged mass-murdering Death Eater who’d once killed thirteen people with a single blasting curse. Black, who everyone seemed to be certain was after her, had only cast a single disarming spell at her.

The next morning, Holly and Ron were the heroes of the hour. Ron was telling the story to anyone who’d listen, and if he left out the bit where he’d been sent falling down the stairs by an unconscious Neville, Holly didn’t begrudge him that. Quite a few people whispered about her disarming Black, but Holly was growing more and more convinced that once he’d been discovered all Black had been trying to do was leave without hurting anybody.

“Rushing down there was very reckless, Holly,” Hermione said once the four of them - her, Holly, Ginny, and Ron - got some time to themselves.

“I - I don’t think any of us were in danger,” Holly said quietly.

“What do you mean? You were duelling Sirius Black?” Ginny said.

“Maybe we were. But Black didn’t cast anything more dangerous than a stunning spell. The only thing he cast at me was a disarming spell,” Holly said.

“That knife was bloody scary, mate... but I think I have to agree. Not to say that I wouldn’t love to have outdueled Sirius Black, but he wasn’t trying all that hard,” Ron said.

“Maybe he didn’t recognise you, Holly,” Hermione said.

“I’ve been all over the papers for the past year. If he knew the password...” Holly said.

“Maybe he’s not after you,” Ginny said quietly.

“If he’s not after Holly, then what was he doing breaking into Gryffindor tower?” Ron asked.

“What could he have been looking for in your dormitory room, is the question,” Hermione said.

“I’ve got no bloody clue, that’s for sure,” Ron said, and none of them could come up with what Black had possibly been doing. There was one thing Holly, and all of them, knew for sure - whatever he was, Black wasn’t mad. No madman could fight off five people at once and not hurt a single one of them.

Security was tightened considerably throughout the school. Holly was only allowed on the grounds for Quidditch practice, and that was supervised by a teacher - usually McGonagall herself. Two hitwizards were stationed at the portrait hole at all times, checking students for dark artifacts and magic. A team of Aurors swept the castle from top to bottom and found no trace of Black.

On the Saturday after the break-in, however, Holly had no time to think about Sirius Black because Gryffindor was due to play Ravenclaw. She was escorted down to the Pitch by McGonagall and made sure to put her wand on a wrist holster hidden just up her sleeve when she changed into her Quidditch robes. That was normally the sort of thing a cheat might do, but she’d been strictly instructed to do so in case Black appeared at the game.

“Alright team, you all know what to do - we’re the best damn team in this tournament, and it’s about time we won the cup. Go out there and crush those Ravenclaws - and Potter, don’t let the fact that you go all doe-eyed whenever Chang gets near you stop you from knocking her off her broom!” Wood said in the changing room, and Holly blushed. Cho Chang was very pretty, and a good seeker besides.

They marched out onto the pitch, and Holly thought that the lineup of the short, slender Cho (as most seekers were) and six lanky-to-burly upper-year boys that made up the Ravenclaw team looked faintly comical. Wood shook Roger Daive’s hand, and Holly laughed as Lee Jordan started to speak in the commentator’s box.

“And we have Holly Potter for the Gryffindor side flying for the first time in the Hogwarts league with a Firebolt. The Firebolt, the fastest production broom ever, tops out at -” Lee began, but McGonagall cut him off.

“The match, Mr Jordan, not the brooms, if you would,”

“Right, right. They’re up in the air and - and Katie Bell of Gryffindor takes possession of the ball, dodges a bludger, and passes to Spinnet...” Lee Jordan shouted into his microphone as Holly roared upwards on her new Firebolt. It really was nothing like her nimbus - she could feel the immense G-forces on her through the sharp turns, and the wind blowing her braided hair back as she accelerated to top speed near-instantly.

A bludger came rocketing towards Holly, and she dodged out of the way with ease and turned towards the Ravenclaw beater. She shot forwards at tremendous speeds, just missing him, and he was so shocked that Fred was able to send him flying straight off his broom. His partner caught him and led him back to the broom, but the time that took was time Fred and George were free to wreak havoc.

“And Potter’s flying like she means to hurt somebody! With her broom’s acceleration, she can dip in and out of the main level of play whilst Chang is forced to stay aloft... and they’ve seen it! Chang and Potter are racing towards something!” Lee Jordan said. Holly didn’t hear anything else, because she and Cho were both racing towards the glint of gold they’d both seen at almost the exact same time.

The snitch was riving fast, a deadly sharp dive, and as Holly raced after it she heard Cho give off a shout of alarm. Three cloaked figures were making their way across the ground, and without so much as thinking about it Holly whipped out her wand. “EXPECTO PATRONUM!” She shouted, conjuring forth a doe formed from silver light that charged towards the Dementors and scattered them like bowling pins.

Holly had no more time for that, though, as she and Cho raced across the surface of the pitch just ten feet above the ground. The Snitch flew with tremendous speed into a banking turn, and both Holly and Cho struggled to stay with it. Cho couldn’t, pulling up and out, but Holly just managed to stay with the Snitch. She put on one last burst of speed, stretched out her arm, and grabbed the Snitch out of the air.

There was an enormous cheer from the crowd as Holly held the Snitch aloft, Lee Jordan continued to extoll the virtues of the Firebolt, and Holly looked around to see what had happened with the Dementors. She saw then that the cloaked figures had not been Dementors after all, but rather Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Marcus Flint. Malfoy had apparently been sitting on Goyle’s shoulders.

All four of them were lying in a heap, having panicked at Holly’s oncoming Patronus. Holly felt like a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders as she descended to join the rest of the team in laughing as Professor McGonagall stormed over towards the Slytherins. Gryffindor was now solidly in the lead for the Quidditch cup - so long as Hufflepuff didn’t crush Slytherin, all they needed to do was win their last match against Hufflepuff and the cup would be theirs.

Chapter 27: Year Three, Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Text

Hufflepuff, unfortunately, crushed Slytherin. Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff seeker and captain, had lured Malfoy into a Wronski feint and then had his chasers run up the score before catching the Snitch. Now Holly would have to wait until Gryffindor was in the lead before she caught the Snitch - beforehand, she’d have had to only not let Hufflepuff get a lead of more than a hundred before she caught the Snitch.

Holly and the rest of the Gryffindor team were training hard, but that wasn’t Holly’s only extracurricular activity. Her little potions lab in the collapsed secret passageway now had ventilating runes carved into it (courtesy of Hermione’s runes textbook) and her mandrake leaf was nearly ready.

According to her rather basic arithmancy, the timing she needed of a new moon and then a lightning storm should work out. Holly was not looking forward to another month of having a mandrake leaf stuck in her mouth if it didn’t.

Her classes were ramping up as the year progressed, and Holly was starting to feel the strain of keeping up with her new good grades and her various extracurricular activities. Hermione was looking even more strained, and Holly still wasn’t exactly sure how she was taking every class Hogwarts offered to Third-Year’s without scheduling conflicts. She knew that one could take every O.W.L. subject - Percy Weasley had done that - but Holly was worried that her friend was spreading herself too thin.

“Are you sure you’re fine, Hermione?” Holly asked one afternoon, worried at the bags under her friend’s eyes.

“I - yes, I’m fine,” Hermione said, but Holly could tell she was barely awake.

“You know, you don’t need to take twelve O.W.L.’s - and you taking Muggle Studies is ridiculous. Can’t you just sit the O.W.L. without taking the class or something?” Holly said.

“I said I’m fine!” Hermione shouted, and then looked down as people started to look at her.

“You’re barely scraping an A in Divination, and you know that you’re not going to get better. It’d be like a muggle trying to pass Charms - wouldn’t it be better to focus on the subjects you actually need and enjoy?” Holly said, not dissuaded by Hermione’s outburst. Holly herself was pretty good at Divination, but she wasn’t as good as Ron

“I - I’ll think about it,” Hermione said, and Holly thought that was about all she was going to get out of her.

Throughout February, Holly worked on her Animagus preparations in secret. She found the chrysalis of a specific type of moth, dew that hadn’t seen sunlight for seven days and seven nights, and then she placed her Mandrake Leaf in a small crystal phial outside of her dormitory room window on the night of the 26th of February.
As the light of the new moon hit the crystal phial, it began to glow softly with silver light. Waiting to be sure it was infused with the moonlight, she grabbed it, cast a silencing charm to muffle the noise, and leapt out the window on her broom. The Hitwizards made sneaking around the castle at night harder, but not impossible.

She flew under her cloak and opened up a window near her hidden potions laboratory. She crept quickly across the corridor, opened up the disused secret passage, and slipped inside. She placed the phial into a little clamp from her potions kit, and then put her other ingredients in - dew that had been left out of sunlight and sight for a week, the chrysalis of a Death’s Dead Hawk Moth, and a strand of her own hair into the phial.

Holly cast a dissolving charm on the content of the phial, turning the mixture into something that looked very much like liquid moonlight. She had to hope that her arithmancy was correct because if the storm she’d predicted for tonight didn’t happen, she’d need to start again.

The Animagus transformation was magic, but of a different kind than spells. It used the magic of the world itself like the magical constructs students learned to make in Ancient Runes, harnessing the power of a storm to permanently grant power to a human. There were tales of muggles managing to become Animagi, though Holly thought a wizard would have to brew the potion for them.

Only on a site that was a nexus of the veins of natural magic - what European wizards called ‘ley lines’ - could the initial transformation be undertaken. Even then, the witch in question had to harness the chaotic power of a thunderstorm. Only at a place like Hogwarts, which sat upon one of the largest nexuses of magical energy in Europe, could one become an Animagus.

She placed the tip of her wand on her heart, cast a long Latin incantation, and sat cross-legged in front of the phial. The only light in the passage now was that of the potion, and Holly could hear her heartbeat loudly in her own chest. She closed her eyes and tried to focus.

She heard it for the first time, then - a second heartbeat. It was far faster than her own steady thump, thump. It was far faster than she had ever remembered her own heart beating, fast enough that she felt a moment of sympathetic panic.

Holly felt something brush her face, a phantom wind. She heard something, a distant birdcall of some kind - and then she heard the crack of thunder, close to the castle. She had got the timing right after all.

She grabbed the potion, leaving her cloak and broom hidden away in her makeshift potions laboratory, and ran out into the castle halls. She opened a window, not caring that the violent wind blew ice-cold rain into her at some speed.

With only the brief light of the storm to guide her, and the liquid moonlight of the potion, Holly thrust the phial out into the rain and hoped she’d done everything right - because if she hadn’t, this next step could prove fatal.

There was a defeating crack of thunder as a bolt of lightning shot down into the crystal phial of liquid moonlight, and yet Holly was unharmed. She brought her arm back inside and closed the window, and then she marvelled at the potion. It was no longer glowing with faint silver light, but rather a deep crimson. It flickered, and Holly realised it was beating at the same rate as the second heartbeat she could hear. It must have been impossibly fast for a human, hundreds of beats per minute.

Holly had only one thing left to do. If she had brewed the potion correctly, cast the correct charms, and harnessed the ambient magic correctly all she had to do to become an Animagus was to drink the potion. Of course, if she’d made a mistake she might end up a horrible mutant or simply die.

Holly Potter was nothing if not brave. She drank the entire thing down in one gulp, and for a moment nothing seemed to change. Then, at the next peal of thunder, she felt as though her entire body had been lit aflame. She couldn’t even scream, such was the pain, and she dropped the phial. Her own heart started beating fast and faster until it was beating so fast that it and the second one she’d been hearing merged into one.

She felt her body change, felt her magic change, as she closed her eyes and let out a - a caw? She was no longer in her own body, and yet this new form felt just as right as her old one had... more right, even. She could suddenly see far better in the dark corridor, and though she was much shorter than she had been she wasn’t exactly small.

Holly looked up into the window and saw reflected there a huge raven. It had jet black feathers, sharp talons, and brilliant green eyes. She moved one of her wings, and the raven’s wing moved. She hopped a little closer, and saw a faint pattern under her feathers - her scar, it seemed, had followed her even to this form.

She let out a triumphant call and leapt into the air without the aid of any broom. She flew down the corridors, marvelling at how easily flight came to her. She simply knew how to turn, how to bank, and how to control her speed. She was fast, but more importantly, she was agile. Both her size and flight seemed to her as beyond that of a common raven, and Holly felt something in the air, in the wind, that allowed her to perform such feats.

Perched on a suit of armour, Holly decided to try something.

“I can talk,” she croaked, in a voice very unlike her own. It came as naturally to her as flying had, but felt that same strange sensation.

“Who’s that - show yourself!” Argus Filch growled from around a corner, and Holly felt herself respond without conscious thought.

“Who’s that - show yourself,” she said, in a perfect mimicry of Filch’s voice. Holly looked at her own reflection in surprise, as much as a bird could emote. That was definitely beyond a normal raven’s ability.

She flew back through the castle, disappointed that the storm would stop her from flying over the grounds. Returning to the entrance to the secret passage, Holly transformed back into herself with but a thought. There was no pain, no burning sensation like polyjuice. She simply willed herself back, and there she was.

Holly could still hear that second heartbeat if she listened to it, and knew that it would take only a thought to return to her other form - to become her other self. She gathered up her cloak and her broom and flew back to her dormitory. She performed the now-familiar routine - silencing charm, unlocking charm, and then cancelling the silencing charm after she was inside and had closed the window.

The next morning, she rushed to the library to look for some kind of magical raven that she might have turned into. Would she have powers other than vocal mimicry, she wondered. She found her answer in the very first book she checked and was surprised to learn that messenger ravens (the ravens, it turned out, she’d seen for sale in magical pet shops) were not common ravens as she had assumed. They were larger, from just a bit too much larger like her own form, and flew faster.

They had been bred by Scandinavian wizards to carry messages sometime around seven hundred BC, and much like post owls, they had uncanny tracking abilities and intelligence. Unlike post owls, the messages they carried were vocal, rather than written. They could both recite exact messages and mimic voices.

Holly was slightly disappointed that they couldn’t call up storms or anything flashy like that, but it certainly sounded like a very useful form. While messenger ravens were rare in modern Britain, they weren’t unheard of and many continental wizards used them. The ability to fly under her own power was enough to make the entire arduous process worth it to Holly, though.

That afternoon, a large messenger raven was seen swooping over the grounds of Hogwarts, and Holly was nowhere to be found for an hour. Yes, she thought, that was definitely worth it. Even as she sat in the common room doing her homework, she felt freer than she had in ages.

Holly needed to get her arithmancy book from her room - she had put off her homework for this weekend to get the potion ready - and so she headed up the girl’s staircase. Hermione was the only other girl there, putting a gold necklace of some kind on, and she turned around in surprise as Holly entered, then relaxed.

“Have fun flying around the grounds this afternoon?” Hermione said, and Holly looked at her non-plussed.

“What? I was inside all day - you know how strict McGonagall is about me being on the grounds,” Holly said.

“Holly, I’ve known what you’ve been working on ever since I saw the leaf in your mouth. Then, well I saw your weather prognostications - what else would need a full moon and a lightning storm?” Hermione said, patiently.

“Ah,” Holly said. She technically had a grace period to register as an Animagus, but Holly had no plans to and that was the sort of rulebreaking Hermione might disapprove of.

“So was all the sneaking around and late nights worth it?” Hermione asked.

“Definitely. There’s something about flying...” Holly said, and then felt a little silly.

“Well, I don’t plan on becoming an unregistered Animagus myself, but I suppose it makes sense for your form not to be public knowledge,” Hermione said, and Holly blinked.

“I thought you’d disapprove of the rule-breaking,” Holly said.

“I’m not that bad! Or, at least not since our first year,” Hermione said, blushing a little. Holly laughed, and she smiled as she realised that she could share her excitement with at least one of her friends... and if she could do that, she could probably tell Ron and Ginny.

Chapter 28: Year Three, Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Text

“You’re an Animagus?” Ginny said, shocked.

“Wicked, mate. Reckon you could teach us?” Ron asked.

“You do know that being an unregistered Animagus is seriously illegal?” Hermione said, pausing for a moment to look at Holly. “...but maybe if you taught me, it wouldn’t be so suspicious if I registered - oh, I just want to learn it, Holly,” Hermione said.

“It’s really not that hard... no, it’s not hard in the way a lot of advanced magic is. The next good window for it is just after school starts next year, anyway. If you still want to learn it, we’ll try then,” Holly said.

That pleased Ron and Ginny, though Holly did show Hermione her notes. In any case, they had very little time to do much beyond what they were supposed to be doing as February faded into March. Holly learnt how to turn badgers into backpacks, unstick sticking charms, and brew wideye potions.

She also wrote what she thought must have been a half-mile of essays, as teachers assigned even more homework. The only saving grace in that regard for Holly was Defence and Divination. Professor Lupin assigned only his standard level of readings and essays, instead moving the class to ever more interesting practical units. Holly learnt how to defend herself from underwater beasts, everything she could want to know about a dozen different dark creatures, and greatly enjoyed the second unit on defending themselves from other wizards.

They were still using hex-deflections and other simpler spells instead of full shield charms, but Lupin also ran exercises to help them learn to avoid unfriendly spells. They all had great fun casting spells at the person honing their dodging skills, and Holly found she was just as good at that as shield charms. Lupin also taught them a number of clever tricks, like using a powerful light charm to blind opponents, and was still everyone’s favourite teacher by a wide margin.

Divination had very little homework, and no essays, for which Holly was very grateful. She’d read tea leaves, palm lines, and laurel-ash this year. She wasn’t great at getting predictions beyond very basic and immediate stuff, but she could get them reliably now. Hermione was still struggling, and Holly thought she really was taking too many subjects. Ron was tied with Parvarti at the top of the class, and though Holly was happy for her friends, she did think that was utterly bizarre.

Holly was, of course, training extremely hard for the Quidditch final. Wood wouldn’t accept another lost chance at the cup, and while Cedric Diggory and his team played clean Quidditch they were also very good. Holly felt a little intimidated at the prospect of facing the handsome sixth-year Hufflepuff seeker in the final - when the girls in her dorm started to talk about boys, they all brought up Cedric. Even Hermione thought he was handsome - Hermione!

Wood had Ginny lead Holly into practice Wronski feints - a favourite tactic fo Diggory’s - and Holly thought she was ready for it if he tried it on her. She also practised weaving through the game itself, because Gryffindor was in second place for the overall Quidditch cup by exactly one hundred and fifty points. Holly would need to help the team take and retain a lead, catching the snitch only when they were in front.

Fred and George helped show her some tricks to delay Diggory from getting the snitch if Hufflepuff were ahead. Holly was already something of a menace on a broom, and the twins had taught her all their little tricks. Holly was as confidant as she could be going into what was already shaping up to be one of the hardest fought games of Quidditch Hogwarts had ever seen.

After Care of Magical Creatures one April morning, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking back up to the castle slowly, enjoying a rare bit of nice weather. Hagrid’s classes were very hands-on, but he really did know a lot about magical creatures. Even if he occasionally forgot his students weren’t as large and tough as him.

“I can’t believe they let a... half-breed like that teach here,” Malfoy said, as he, Pansy, and his two minions walked past them.

“And he can carry a wand now. You should write to your father, Draco. I don’t feel safe around it,” Pansy said.

“Unfortunately father says Dumbledore has too much influence on the Board for the moment-”

“Why would that be, Malfoy?” Holly asked, grinning. Draco turned around, looking at her angrily.

“Because the Heir didn’t finish the job like he should have. Imagine that, Pansy - no Weasleys, no Potter, and most especially no - ARGH!” Malfoy said, only for Hermione to advance on him. She didn’t pull out her wand, speak to him, or do anything but punch him squarely in the nose. Malfoy let out a pained noise and staggered backwards.

“YOU! YOU AND YOUR IGNORANT, EVIL FATHER!” Hermione shouted, and Ron had to run forward to stop her from punching Malfoy again.

“Control your mudblood, Weasley,” Pansy said, angrily, and then Ginny had hit her with a hex that made bats crawl out of her nostrils. It was really quite horrible, Holly thought. Draco and his cronies ran away at that point, not wanting to stick around.

“Are - are you okay, Hermione? That was a great punch, though” Ron asked, alarmed at her uncharacteristic outburst.

“I - I think I’m just a bit stressed. I need to go ba- I need to go lie down for a bit,” Hermione said, turning and walking rapidly towards the castle

“We have charms class in ten minutes!” Holly called out, but Hermione either didn’t care or didn’t hear her. Holly rushed after her, but Hermione was already inside the castle and around a corner. Holly saw her turn down a corridor and enter a deserted classroom. Holly was about to class out to her, but when she entered the classroom Hermione wasn’t there. Had Holly just imagined seeing her, she wondered?

Hermione wasn’t in charms class, and Holly thought that not only was the highly unusual, it was also a shame. Hermione could probably have done with having someone practice a cheering charm on her, Holly thought.

Hermione wasn’t at lunch, and Holly began to get really worried. Both she and Ron remembered the last time Hermione had missed class - and while she wasn’t likely to be attacked by a mountain troll this time, neither of them were willing to chance it.

They checked all the bathrooms on their way to Divination and found no sign of Hermione. When they got to Divination, however, they saw Hermione standing there looking fine.

“Hermione, you’re alright,” Holly said, hugging her.

“I - why wouldn’t I be?” she said.

“You missed charms. I know what Draco said was awful, but...” Ron said.

“I missed charms? I’ll need to go apologise to Professor Flitwick after Divination” Hermione said, sounding shocked. Holly’s mind began to work, and she wondered... how exactly had Hermione been attending classes held at the same time?

“And lunch,” Ron said.

“You know, Holly, she was asleep in her arithmancy book until we went to get our things from the room,” Lavender told Holly quietly as they all climbed up into the divination classroom. Inside, the small tables they used as desks had something new on them - crystal balls. Holly felt a little silly sitting down in front of something that was so stereotypically magical. It would be like wearing a big pointed hat whilst she road on her broom and taunted small children.

“Welcome, everyone. Today we begin our final topic for the year - and one of the most difficult things we will attempt this year. Unlike tea-leaf reading, getting predictions from a crystal ball requires that one be open to the currents of fate - if you can’t do that, you will see nothing but mist,” Professor Trelawney explained. Hermione rolled her eyes at that. “I do not expect you to divine anything of importance in this lesson, or indeed this year. Attempting to read the threads of fate directly in this manner is difficult even for an accomplished Seer, but it will give me an excellent idea of how you’ve been progressing towards opening up your Inner eye,” Trelawney continued.

“Um, what sort of things will we see then, Professor?” Lavender asked.

“At this stage of your education, you should all be able to see events in the near future with some regularity by the end of the year. Everyone, give it a try now,” Trelawney said. They all looked deeply into the crystalline spheres, and Holly at first thought that she’d see nothing but mist. Then, almost by accident, she saw the mist form a shape. A dog, perhaps. Something four-legged and ragged, with eyes glowing bright yellow in the mist.

“What do you see, Miss Granger?” Trelawney asked Hermione quietly, and Holly snapped out of her trance.
“There’s nothing there. Maybe if I just look longer...” Hermione said, sounding desperate. She had not been dealing well with being barely able to keep an ‘A’ grade in Divination.

“My dear, not all of us are gifted with an inner eye. Perhaps this is not a class suited to you - there is no shame in that. You are only worsening your connection to fate with your... academic overachievement,” Trelawney said, and Holly blinked. What was she talking about?

“That has nothing to do with your stupid inner eye! You know what, fine - if you don’t want me in your class, I won’t stay!” Hermione shouted, getting up and pushing the table over. The crystal ball slammed into the ground with a heavy thunk, and Hermione stormed out of the classroom and down the ladder. Holly could tell she was crying.

“I - I better go after her Professor,” Holly said, and Ron got up with her. Professor Trelawney looked shocked, and Holly felt surprised at seeing the enigmatic Professor blink back tears of her own.

“Yes, that’s - that’s a good idea, Miss Potter. Do tell your friend I am sorry if I caused her any distress. I did not handle that with as much grace as I could have,” Trelawney said, and Holly and Ron rushed down the ladder after Hermione.

They eventually found her sitting in a stall in Mrytle’s bathroom, crying.

“Hermione?” Holly said, hesitantly.

“I’m fine!” Hermione shouted from the stall.

“Come off it, Hermione. You’re not fine,” Ron said. Hermione opened the stall door, and Holly could see that she’d been crying for quite a while.

“You can talk to us, you know. I know Divination’s been hard for you...” Holly said.

“It’s not that. Well, maybe a little. I’ve just been so stressed lately, and tired,” Hermione said, looking down.

“It’s because going for twelve O.W.L.s turns you into a nutter. You know even Dumbledore only did ten? Why do you think Percy’s been so much less weird this year?” Ron said.

“If - if I take fewer classes, then that means I failed. That I backed down,” Hermione said, sniffling a little.

“Nah. You’re still the smartest witch I know - who else could have brewed polyjuice potion in her second year,” Ron said.

“I had you two helping with that,” Hermione said, weakly.
“Come on Hermione, me and Ron could never have made that potion by ourselves. And I’m really glad you did manage it, myself,” Holly said.

“You know, I’ve heard you can just sit the exams without taking the class, for OWLs and NEWTs. Why don’t you do that for Muggle Studies, Hermione?” Ron asked.

“I suppose I could do that,” she said, quietly.

It took some time to get Hermione calmed down, and in the end, Professor McGonagall was happy to hear that Hermione would change to a saner class load next year. Hermione apologised to Trelawney and Flitwick, and was quite shocked when the Divination Professor apologised to her in return.

Hermione still didn’t think much of Divination, but Holly thought she probably didn’t mind Sibyl Trelawney.

Chapter 29: Year Three, Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Text

Holly’s Easter Holiday was about as far from relaxing as it could be. She was still snowed under on homework, though she had made time to learn a few new spells with her nighttime reading, and Quidditch practice was as intense as ever. Some of those new spells were hard to practice without someone to cast them on, and for most of them, Holly had no desire to cast them on anyone. But, she knew she might need them soon enough - so she practised casting them in empty classrooms and hoped for the best.

The school seemed to be divided right down the middle when it came to the upcoming Quidditch final. Ravenclaw seemed to be behind Gryffindor, and Slytherin behind Hufflepuff. The usually friendly and jovial Hufflepufs had acquired something of an edge, eager to win something for once. Holly had to deflect a few jinxes in the hallways, mostly from Slytherins. One particularly nasty acne jinx she deflected right back at Daphne Greengrass, causing huge and ugly pimples to sprout across her face. Holly thought all the long hours spent practising the shield charm was worth it for that image alone.

Cedric Diggory and the rest of the Hufflepuff team seemed to be good at keeping their housemates from doing anything too bad, though. Wood had somehow managed to get Fred and George not to prank the Hufflepuff team, and overall despite the charged atmosphere between the houses, the teams themselves seemed devoted to having a fair match.

“That’s a nice shield charm you’ve got, Holly. Especially for a third-year,” Cedric said, after seeing Daphne Greengrass run to the Hospital Wing to get her own jinx fixed.

“T-thanks, Cedric. Figured that it couldn’t help to learn last year, you know?” she said, blushing a little.

“I’ll say. I’m sorry about the Hufflepuffs joining in on this, I tried to get them to stop...” Cedric said, a little awkwardly.

“It’s okay, the Hufflepuffs have been fine,” Holly said, and then she had to get to the library to study with most of the third-year Gryffindors. They had never had so much homework, and Holly thought that if Hermione hadn’t dropped divination she might have had a heart attack from the stress. As it was, she seemed stressed out but only as much as the rest of them. Which was to say enormously so.

Holly had written essays on everything from potions development in the late 18th century to how to best escape from a pond filled with Gryndelows. She was beginning to think that her teachers believed essay writing to be the real skill that Hogwarts taught and that the magic was only a topic to write essays about.

The night before the match, Gryffindor tower was alive with nervous energy. Even Hermione had put down her books, too nervous to concentrate. Holly was sitting with her friends, her nerves growing ever tenser as the night got later.

“Come on mate, you’re gonna do fine,” Ron said.

“Yeah, you’ve got a Firebolt, Holly. And you’re way better than Diggory, to begin with,” Ginny said.

Holly felt extremely relieved when Wood ordered the entire team to bed, standing up from his corner and abandoning his model quidditch pitch. Holly sank into her bed and fell asleep in moments, her exhausting training schedule and homework load making themselves known.

She dreamed of a number of bizarre Quidditch matches, one after the other. One was played on Hippogriffs, and Holly rode Buckbeak. The talons of the Hippogriffs cut several players to ribbons, and then she was dreaming about playing the match as her Animagus form. Everyone else had a form too, but some couldn’t fly. Holly easily caught the snitch after Cedric Diggory turned into a large grizzly bear, and then spent the entire match on the ground eating from a pot of honey.

Then she had a less pleasant dream involving dementors taking the place of the crowd and woke with a gasp. It was still early in the morning, the sun still well below the horizon, and Holly looked around at her roommates. They’d all be asleep for several hours. She drank some of the thankfully cool water from the silver jug in the centre of the room, pouring it into a little goblet that sat on every bedside table in Hogwarts.

Holly opened the window and transformed, soaring out over the grounds. It might still be pitch black, but her eyes in this form could see well enough at night. She winged up towards the Owlery and perched next to Hedwig. Her owl looked at her oddly for a moment, then took off. Holly followed her, and she spent nearly an hour flying with Hedwig.

It was a joyously freeing thing to do. Holly had always loved to fly, and being able to do it without a broom was truly incredible. As Hedwig left to return to the Owlery, Holly spotted something moving near the edge of the forest. She banked towards it, the magic of her form giving her the perfect wind to do so.

Crookshanks was prowling through the undergrowth at the very edge of the Forbidden Forest. Holly was surprised to see Hermione’s cat so far from the castle. She was more surprised to see the creature walking companionably beside it - the same huge black dog she’d seen all throughout the year.

Now that she could look at it without it being obscured, or seen out of the corner of her eye, it didn’t look quite so demonic. It still cut a menacing figure, with its yellow eyes and shaggy black fur, but it didn’t seem so much like the omen of death her Divination books said it was.

She almost went down for a closer look, but Crookshanks and the dog both turned their eyes towards the dark early morning sky, and Holly thought that it was probably best for her not to go down there. There was something, she thought, very different about Hermione’s cat.
Holly returned to her dormitory and back to her human form before any of her roommates had woken up. She closed the windows, looked back at her bed, and decided that she was already up. She got ready and headed down to the Common Room, only to see Wood and Angelina already there.

“Awake already, Holly?” Angelina asked.

“Yeah. Figured I’d gotten as much sleep as I was going to get,” Holly said, and both Wood and Angelina nodded in understanding.

“Ready for the match? Remember, we can only win the cup if you catch the snitch while we’re ahead, but if Diggory catches it at any time Hufflepuff wins,” Wood said.

“I know, Oliver. You’ve only told me that every day for months,” Holly said.

Eventually, everyone else came down, and then it was time for breakfast. It seemed as if the entirety of Gryffindor house escorted the Quidditch team down to the great hall, but clearly, people had gotten there beforehand because there was a huge cheer from the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables as they entered.

Cedric Diggory led the Hufflepuff team in only a minute or so afterwards, and there was another huge cheer this time from the Hufflepuff and Slytherin tables. Both teams ate quickly and rushed towards the pitch to get an idea of the conditions. It was a bright, sunny day with no real wind to speak of - perfect weather for flying.

None of them spoke as they got changed into their scarlet robes. Holly had quickly gotten over her embarrassment at changing in the girl’s rooms, and by now she hardly even noticed where she was. She and the rest of the girls joined the boys in the central locker room, and they all looked towards Oliver. He seemed almost petrified for a moment, and then a shift came over him.

The reserves - Ginny, and a couple of fourth-year girls - were also with them, and though everyone thought Hufflepuff would play fair, sportsmanlike Quidditch was still extremely violent. Holly had made Ginny promise to use her firebolt if she was unable to continue.

Wood's face bore a sudden look of determination, and it was as if all his nerves had simply vanished. Holly felt that, by some bizarre emotional alchemy, so had her own nerves stopped feeling so intense.

“Alright, team. We all know Hufflepuff is probably one of the best sides we’ve ever had to face, but damn it we’re the best side this tournament has had in years. I don’t care if a dozen dark wizards try and interrupt this game - we are going to win that cup!” Wood said, and then they walked out onto the Quidditch pitch.

Holly felt like she’d walked into a physical wall of sound. The stands were a sea of red and yellow, and she could see banners of all kinds. She even saw Ron and Hermione sitting next to Hagrid and waving a banner supporting her. Luna Lovegood, dressed in violently scarlet robes, was roaring like a lion nearby.

Hufflepuff was already out and lined up in the centre of the pitch, with Cedric standing slightly in front of his team. Cedric had a Nimbus 2001 tucked under his arm, and Holly remembered hearing that his family was quite wealthy. Not as rich as the Malfoy’s though - the rest of the Hufflepuff team rode on the standard mix of Cleansweeps and Comets.

“And here comes the Gryffindor team - one of the best sides Hogwarts has seen in years. Veteran Keeper Oliver Wood has been leading the team ever since Charlie Weasley graduated, and would already have two cups if certain dark wizards had kept from interfering. Then the lovely trio of chasers -” Lee Jordan said through his antique-looking microphone, only to be interrupted by Professor McGonagall.

“Kindly keep your commentary focused on Quidditch, Mr Jordan!” She said.

“As I was saying, Gryffindor’s trio of fierce, talented chasers - Alica Spinnet, Katie Bell, and Angelina Johnson! Next, we have the terrible twins - Fred and George Weasley. You know them, and you either hate them or love them! Last, but certainly not least, we have one of the most remarkable young talents this pitch has ever seen. Gryffindor’s star seeker, basilisk slayer, and the only recipient of the Order of Merlin to ever play for Gryffindor after they received it - Holly Potter!” Lee Jordan shouted, and the crowd cheered even louder.

Oliver Wood walked over to Cedric Diggory, and the two shook hands amicably.

“Good luck, and may the best team win, Wood,” Cedric said.

“The same to you, Diggory,” Wood said.

“Mount your brooms! Kick off in three, two... one!” Madam Hooch said, blowing her whistle. Holly only knew that because she saw her do it, however - the noise of the crowd roaring as one drowned out everything else.

Holly shot straight up into the air, climbing vertically with all of the firebolt’s monstrous power. Diggory did the same, climbing up into the air where he could keep an eye on the game and search for the snitch. Holly knew she’d have to keep one eye on him, one eye on the game, and one on the snitch. A tall order, but at least she knew she could beat Diggory in a straight line chase.

One of the Hufflepuff chasers - Tamsin Applebee - got the quaffle first, only for Fred to wallop a bludger right into her arm. She dropped the quaffle in pain, and Angelina deftly plucked it out of the air and zoomed towards the goals. The Hufflepuff beaters raced after her, and Holly raced right at them. They saw her and dodged away in surprise - and that same distraction allowed Angelina to score the first goal.

“Gryffindor scores, 10-nil! Nice distraction by Potter - she’s been flying much more aggressively this year, and would you look at the speed of that firebolt!”

Holly raced back up and out of the action, dodging a bludger one of the Hufflepuff beaters - Maxine O’Flaherty - had sent her way. Hufflepuff had the quaffle again, and then Gryffindor.

Then Cedric dived, and Holly saw the snitch moments after him. She dove down at tremendous speed, and the two of them chased after the snitch. They weaved through the game, and then Fred hit Diggory with a bludger and he was forced to abandon the chase to keep from crashing. The Hufflepuff’s put a goal past Wood, however, and Holly broke off her chase.

“Macavoy scores for Hufflepuff, leading us to an even score of 10-10. Potter breaks off her pursuit of the Snitch. With Hufflepuff one hundred and fifty points up on the tournament ladder, Gryffindor need a margin of one hundred and sixty to win the cup,”

Gryffindor and Hufflepuff traded the lead for nearly an hour, with both teams scoring nine times each. Then, Hufflepuff scored again, putting them in a one-goal lead. Holly had seen the Snitch several times, and before she could catch it the score had evened out again - or worse, Hufflepuff had been in the lead.

She knew that she couldn’t keep Diggory from catching the snitch forever. Holly resolved to catch the snitch the next time she saw it, even if it would result in a draw. Wood would understand.

Hufflepuff was up by ten, and then Alica managed to get the quaffle past Fleet, the Hufflepuff keeper. With the scores again even, Holly shot into action as she saw the Snitch. Cedric was behind her and, he called out to his team to stop her. It was on the other side of the pitch, and the entire Hufflepuff team was in her way. Cedric would never catch her, but they might be able to slow her down enough to let the Snitch get away.

Holly raced forwards at irresponsible speeds, feeling the wind like she had never before done on a broom. She felt that same innate sense for it she did as when she was a raven, and she managed to dodge through the entire Hufflepuff team. Even the keeper tried to block her, and as she rolled around him Holly heard one of the sweetest sentences of her entire life.

“JOHNSON SCORES FOR GRYFFINDOR! I don’t believe it - while they were trying to block Potter, Johnson managed to put a goal through - Gryffindor leads 110-100!” Lee Jordan shouted.

Holly put the huge roar the crowd shouted out of her mind and focused only on the snitch. It shot over the stands and then began to weave through them. She wasn’t deterred, even when it flew through the staff box. She followed the snitch through, sending loose papers flying and at least one Governor ducking for cover. Then it turned sharply, but Holly was faster. She turned inside of the Snitch’s turn, held out her arm, and caught the tiny golden ball with one smooth motion.

She landed in the centre of the pitch, and the entire Gryffindor team ran forward and hugged her. The reserves joined in, and the crowd was cheering wildly. Fred and George lifted her onto their shoulders, and as Dumbledore presented Wood with the gigantic Quidditch cup Cedric gave Holly a nod of respect.

Then Wood handed the cup to her, and she lifted it high up into the air. Wood was crying, and so Holly realised was she. She waved the cup to the roar of the crowd and thought that she could have conjured a Patronus to ward off all the Dementors of Azkaban at that moment.

Chapter 30: Year Three, Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Text

Holly’s excitement at winning the Quidditch cup managed to keep her from being driven utterly made by the stress of the exams, but only just. The weather screamed out for someone, anyone to go and enjoy it, but all the students were cooped up in the halls of the school. Not only were they not permitted on the ground thanks to the threat of Sirius Black, they would only have been able to go and study out there in any event.

Even Crabbe and Goyle could be seen cracking open textbooks and hurriedly revising, something which Holy had never even heard of before now. Percy Weasley handed out severe punishment to anyone who disturbed the scholarly quiet of the common room as he became filled with a sort of manic energy.

Holly had been recruited to run mass tutoring sessions for her classmates on duelling, as rumours swept the school that Lupin’s final exam would, of course, be a practical one. She ran her fellow third years through the basics of disarming, stunning, and hex-deflection, and found she quite enjoyed it.

All the muggleborns in Gryffindor tower were being quizzed for Muggle Studies revision, and even Holly was roped into the effort. Nobody dared bother Hermione thought, who seemed to be in a sort of revision trance.

After the chaos of the build-up to the Quidditch final, a strange peace had descended upon the school. Slytherin and Gryffindor were both far too busy with exams to continue their rivalry, beyond pouring all their efforts into getting last-minute house points. Whilst exam grades wouldn’t be sent out in time to count, particularly outstanding performances in exams often attracted large sums of house points.

Holly didn’t really care all that much about the House Cup - winning the Quidditch Cup in Wood’s last year had meant far more to her - but she wanted to do well. It almost surprised her that she wanted not only to pass but to excel. In all her classes, but especially Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin’s praise meant more to her than any official grade, and she felt driven to impress him. Partially because he was by far their best teacher, but also because he was one of her few links to her parents.

On their first day of exams, the Gryffindor third-years had Transfiguration and Charms. Holly was glad Hermione had made her and Ron study so much for Transfiguration because it was a fiendishly difficult exam. Charms, on the other hand, Holly thought she’d done very well in. She had always been best at the practical bits of magic, and charms required less theoretical knowledge than Transfiguration. It still required a mammoth amount, but Holly’s talent with a wand served her better in that class.

Both exams had consisted of a short answer theory test, and then a gruelling series of spell demonstrations. Holly turned teapots into tortoises and a cushion to steel, among other feats of transfiguration. She demonstrated most of the charms they’d learnt that year in the charms exam, and was amused to find that the last spell they had to cast was the cheering charm.
Everyone had left the transfiguration exam stressed out and worrying over the state of their tortoises, but every third year had left the charms exam in fits of giggles. Once the charm had worn off, Holly thought that was nice of Professor Flitwick.

“I hope my cheering charm was good enough - I can’t believe I missed class that day!” Hermione said, as the three of them relaxed in a deserted classroom. It wasn’t quite dinner time yet, and none of them felt up to entering the den of NEWT students that was the Gryffindor common room at exam time yet.

“Well, it certainly cheered me up after that day,” Ron said.

“Hermione, if you don’t get an ‘O’ in charms, nobody will be getting one,” Holly said.

“It’s a pity you couldn’t show McGonagall your Animagus form, Holly. I’m sure that would get you an ‘O’,” Hermione said.

“Maybe I’ll register in my last year and claim it was my NEWT project for transfiguration,” Holly said.

The next day, Holly found herself with her biggest surprise of the exam season so far - without Snape breathing down her neck, she thought she’d actually done quite well in her potions exam for once. It was amazing how Potions had actually become interesting after Snape stopped being such a colossal ass to her, though she wished whatever had made him leave her alone had extended to her friends.

Hagrid’s Care of Magical Creatures exam was just as practical as everyone had thought it would be - they had to use a Niffler to search for leprechaun gold, and Holly enjoyed it far more than an exam should be enjoyed, in her opinion. She’d collected a huge pile of fake gold at the end, as had quite a few of her fellow Gryffindors.

Then Holly had to face a gauntlet of gruelling exams - Astronomy, Arithmancy, and Herbology all in one day. By the end of Herbology, she was dead on her feet, desperate to get some sleep. Most students had done some last-minute revision every night, but all the third-year Gryffindors collapsed into their beds right after dinner.

Bright and early the next morning, all the third years gathered as one outside the room listed for the Defence Against the Dark Arts exam. Inside, they were shocked to see no desks or dark creatures - just an empty room.

“I’m afraid I’ve had to employ a little deception for this exam. You see, we’re going to be taking it outside - so if you’ll all follow me,” Lupin said, as he led them outside and towards what looked like a large maze. Menacing hedgerows stood what must be eight feet tall, and a series of large wooden beams went across the top.

“Your final exam for this year’s defence class is rather different from your typical exam - inside the centre of that maze is a chest containing a token you need to pass. I’ll be watching from above and grading you on how you do and how long you take, but anyone who escapes the maze with a token will be guaranteed an outstanding mark. If it looks like you’re in trouble, I’ll step in. If you need help, send up red sparks with your wand. Now, I want you to break into groups of three - yes, you can choose who you team up with - and get into line,” Professor Lupin said.

The entire year level exploded into whispers. Holly was beset with requests to team up with everyone from Hannah Abbot to Thomas, but Holly merely looked at Ron and Hermione. Both of them nodded.

“As if we’d go with anyone else, mate,” Ron said.

“Glad to have you - both of you,” Holly said, and the trio stepped right into the front of the line. Nobody else had wanted to take it, but the three of them had braved deadly danger and traps meant to stall Voldemort together. Lupin’s exam might be difficult, but it wasn’t scary compared to that.

“Somehow I suspected you three would be first in. Let’s get started, shall we?” Lupin said, and Holly led her two friends into the maze. Their first obstacle came around the second corner - a pool of water that completely blocked their path. The depths were murky, but Holly was sure that there was something moving in there.

“Gryndelows, I think. Relashio will work underwater, but fighting through that many of them will take ages,” Holly said.

“Then we need to go around... but I’m not sure if we’re allowed to destroy the hedges,” Hermione said.

“What about going over it? Rember that spell Flitwick taught us last term - that freezing one?” Ron said.

“That’s genius, Ron! Glacius!” Hermione said, freezing the surface of the pond solid enough for the three of them to dash across. The Gryndelows bashed at the ice, and broke through in places, but not fast enough to catch the trio.

Then, Holly felt a faint memory of pain. An unnatural chill gripped her, and as she rounded the corner she thought for a moment Lupin had been crazy enough to include a Dementor in the exam.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Holly shouted. A huge silver doe charged forth from her wand, trampling the Dementor - or rather, the Boggart. Hermione stepped forward, and the Boggart changed into the white queen from the chessboard in their First Year.
“Riddikulus!” Hermione said, and the white queen’s sword became an inflatable pool noodle. At the sound of their laughter, the Boggart dashed back into its hiding place.

“That... that was probably the more sensible option,” Holly said.

“Well, at least we know you’re quick on the draw with that Patronus spell, yeah?” Ron said.

They made their way past several more dark creatures - running through mist whilst ignoring a Hinkypunk’s lantern and burning through a patch of Devil’s Snare. Then they made it to the centre of the maze.

A large stone rotunda, covered in ivy and looking far too old for a prop Lupin had put up last week, stood in the centre of a large clearing. Inside was a chest on a stone altar, and three figures in dark robes. Each wore a large wood and cloth animal mask - a wolf, a stag, and a rat. Holly recognised at least two of them by their wands - Cedric Diggory was the wolf, and Percy Weasley the stag.

“Normally you would face only one of us for the token... but the master of the maze thought this was a little fairer for you three. However... if you should agree to join us against your comrades, we will grant you a token-” Percy Weasley said, in his most theatrical voice. All three of the trio responded at once.

“As if! And you look like a right git in that getup, Percy,” Ron said. Percy seemed to be taken aback at being recognised.

“Not even for a guaranteed ‘O’!” Hermione said.

“Expeliarmus!” Holly said as she capitalised on Percy’s confusion. She grabbed his wand out of the air, stunned him, and then the fight was on. Ron and Hermione both sent stunning spells at the Rat-masked student, who they didn’t know, and Holly turned to face Cedric.

“Stupefy!” They both said at once, and their spells collided in mid-air. Holly sent a blasting curse his way, and Cedric stopped it with a strong shield charm that rang like a gong.

The rat-masked student disarmed Ron after battering down his weak shield charm with stunning spells, but as he focused on trying to do the same thing to Hermione Ron charged towards him and tackled him to the ground. While they wrestled, Hermione ran over and stunned him.

Holly and Cedric trade stunning spells and disarming charms in a fluid dance of charm and counter charm, sidestep and shielding. Holly threw in a few less dangerous curses to try and break Cedric’s shields, but she didn’t want to hurt him over an exam.

“Lumos Solem!” Ron shouted, momentarily blinding Cedric. It was enough for Holly to hit him right in the chest with a stunning spell. Cedric went flying backwards, knocked clean out.

It took Hermione’s prodigious magical lockpicking skills to open the chest - the unlocking charm might be easy to learn, but it was very hard to master - and they saw the wooden tokens inside. They all took one, and then they rushed out of the maze as quickly as they could. All three of them were breathing hard once they got out of the maze on the other side, but the whole exam had taken them perhaps ten minutes.

“That... that was not what I expected,” Hermione said.

“That was wicked. Best exam I’ve ever taken,” Ron said, and Holly had to agree.

“I can’t believe you tackled that guy,” Holly said.

“I can’t believe you managed to get Percy like that,” Ron said, shaking his head.

“Excellent work, you three. Let me take those tokens,” Lupin said, walking down a set of wooden stairs up to the beams on the top of the maze. “Oh, and do head on to Divination if you have it - Professor Trelawney is seeing students individually,” Lupin continued.

Holly beamed at the praise, and she and Ron headed off to Divination. They had the bizarre sensation of heading off to an exam Hermione wasn’t taking, whilst she had a free period. This would be Holly’s last exam for the year, though Ron and Hermione had Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies tomorrow.

Holly and Ron were the first two students to arrive at the ladder to Trelawney’s classroom. They looked a little awkwardly at the ladder.

“Ladies first, I reckon,” Ron said.

“Wimp. You’re way better than me at Divination... which is why I should go first,” Holly said and climbed up into the semicircular classroom. All the tables had been stacked against the wall, save one in the centre. A crystal ball sat on the otherwise unadorned table.

“Welcome, dear. Congratulations on your performance in the maze,” Trelawney said.

“Did you foresee that?” Holly asked, curious.

“Anyone with half a brain could foresee that, Miss Potter. But I also happen to have an excellent view out my window,” Trelawney said, gesturing towards one of the classroom’s windows. A sort of magnifying glass had been set up there, and Holly saw that there were glowing runes etched along its rim. It seemed to follow the group of Hufflepuffs attempting the maze by itself. “Now, let’s get to Divination. I’d like you to give me a palm reading...”

Holly read Trelawney’s palm easily enough. She didn’t divine anything interesting, but she was certain now that she was making real predictions. She could feel something as she did so, a sensation like but not like her own magic.

When it came time to gaze into the crystal ball, Holly saw something odd - it was a raven chasing after a rat. She repeated her prediction to Trelawney, who seemed puzzled but interested. Holly kept trying to work out why she would be chasing a rat. When she looked up, a strange expression had come over Trelawney’s face.

Holly felt that same sensation of something not quite like magic, but far stronger. She could focus on nothing else but Trelawney.

“The Dark Lord lies alone in the darkest wood. His servants lie shackled by chains of fear and foulest magic. The Betrayer shall fail in his attempt to return, foiled by the Betrayed. The Son shall break free, and his chains will turn upon their master. He shall journey through the dark places of the world, and bring with him to his Lord Emissaries Three. At the stroke of midnight, what Death hath delayed shall begin again - the Son will be free, and the Dark Lord shall rise once more!” Trelawney said, her voice not her own. Holly could almost see something around her, threads of gold...

Then Trelawney snapped out of it, and the sensation was gone. Holly blinked, her eyes wide. That, she was fairly sure, was a real Prophecy. Not just a divination - not a reading of fate, not an uncertain prediction. That was something more, Holly thought.

“Professor? Did you just say-” Holly began, but Trelawney cut her off with a yawn.

“My apologies - dazing off in the middle of an exam? How rude of me, Miss Potter,”

“N-no problem, Professor,” Holly said and climbed back down the ladder. Something was going to happen tonight, but the problem was Holly had no idea what.

Chapter 31: Year Three, Chapter Twenty

Chapter Text

“Blimey, mate - what did you see?” Ron asked, concerned.

“I - I’ll talk to you after your exam, yeah? We’ll go to the common room and find Hermione,” Holly said. She was still shaking from witnessing Trelawney’s prophecy. Surely Voldemort wouldn’t come back tonight? Did it mean that the first step in his return would happen tonight - the Son escaping?

Ron came down about ten minutes later, looking fairly pleased with himself. He frowned when he saw Holly was just as disturbed as when he’d left.

“You alright, Holly?” Ron asked her.

“I’m - no, I’m not alright. Trelawney made a prophecy,” Holly said quietly as they walked towards the common room.

“She went into a trance and everything?” Ron asked.

“Yeah. I’ll explain it when we find Hermione and Ginny, yeah? Don’t want to do it twice,” she said, and Ron nodded in understanding. They walked quickly across the seventh floor to the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, and Ron gave the Fat Lady the password halfheartedly. The portrait swung open, and something small dashed through at surprising speed. Then, as Ron turned to see what had just gone through, he was nearly bowled over by the unmistakable form of Crookshanks.

“Crookshanks, no!” Hermione shouted, rushing through the portrait hole. Ginny followed after her, and Holly and Ron joined the pursuit.

“Scabbers!” Ron shouted, concerned. The two animals dashed at top speed down the grand staircase, once leaping between a pair of moving staircases that were just starting to separate. Holly and her friends rushed after them, firing off immobilising charms to no effect - the animals were just too fast and too small.

Hermione was soon puffing and out of breath and even Holly was feeling the exertion as they chased after the animals. What had been a sprint down the grand staircase became an exhausting chase across the grounds, as the sun got lower on the horizon. Holly could see the Whomping Willow in the distance and knew that they would be in serious trouble if they were caught out on the grounds at night.

Ron’s longer legs had let him get slightly ahead of Holly and Ginny, and Hermione was behind them. He dashed over a slight hill, disappearing out of sight for a moment.

“I’ve got him - arghhh!” Ron said, his shout of relief turning into a pained scream. Holly heard signs of a struggle and whipped out her wand, dashing to the top of the hill to see what was going on.
She nearly dropped her wand from shock at what she saw. The Grimm had Ron by the leg and was dragging him towards the Whomping Willow. Ron was desperately trying to fight it off and shield Scabbers, who he had clutched in his arms, from Crookshanks.

“Immobolous!” Holly shouted, but her aim was off and then the huge dog had Ron almost to the Willow. Crookshanks dashed forwards, nimbly dodging between the slamming branches, and pressed something near the base of the tree with his paw. The Whomping Willow went still, as though Dumbledore himself had cast a body-bind on it. Holly cast another immobilising charm, not wanting to risk a stunner near her friend’s pets, but the range was too long.

Then the Grimm had dragged Ron beneath the Willow, into the secret passage Holly had seen on the Marauder’s Map. Hermione and Ginny caught up to Holly and looked at her.

“What happened - where’s Ron?” Ginny asked, worried.

“This huge black dog dragged him into the secret passage underneath the Willow,” Holly said, and then she saw it begin to move again ever so slightly. “We need to go after it now!” Holly said, and the three of them ran forward as fast as they could.

Holly was the fastest, and she saw the little gnarled spot Crookshanks had touched. She jabbed her wand at it and sighed in relief as the Willow froze completely once more. The three of them ran down into the tunnel, and Hermione looked at Holly.

“Where does this tunnel come out, Holly?”

“I dunno - it goes off the edge of the map, and even Fred and George have never been down here,” Holly answered, holding her lit wand out. Both Ginny and Hermione had their wands out too, as they went down the tunnel as fast as their exhausted legs could carry them.

“If it goes off the edge of the map... we might be outside the wards,” Hermione said, and then Holly took a step forward and felt... something. It was like she’d stepped out of a warm building into freezing air, a sudden and quite shocking sensation.

“Why did Crookshanks chase Scabbers all the way out here?” Ginny asked.

“There’s something off about both of them - Crookshanks, and Scabbers. I know he’s part-Kneazle, Hermione, but you have to admit he’s fixated on Ron’s rat. Scabbers showed up on the Marauder’s Map when none of the other pets did, too,” Holly said.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, and then they saw the tunnel begin to curve up. Holly stopped her friends, and unlit her wand with a whispered “Nox,”. Cautiously, she advanced into what seemed like a dusty, dilapidated house. All the furniture was smashed and ripped apart like someone had trapped an angry bear inside. The setting sun’s red light filtered in through the shoddy wooden walls of the house and the shuttered windows, and Holly could hear her heart racing.

She saw the tracks in the dust and advanced up the stairs. Ginny and Hermione were close behind her, their wands levelled.

“Holly, I think we’re in the Shrieking Shack,” Hermione whispered, and Holly nodded in response.

“Where are all the ghosts then?” Ginny asked, her voice as quiet as Hermione’s.

Holly shushed them, and then she saw the open door. It swayed a little in the wind, and Holly thought something about the tracks in the dust looked off to her. There was nothing for it though - even if that was the Grimm in there and not just a dog, it had Holly’s friend. She charged right through the door kicking it open.

Ron lay on the floor, his bleeding leg bandaged. Ron couldn’t have done that, Holly thought. She saw Scabbers lying frozen by an immobilizing spell on the other side of the room. He looked up at her and shouted a warning, but it would have been too late. She was already moving though, and she, Ron, and the man hiding behind the door all shouted at the same time.

“Holly, it’s a trap! He’s an Animagus!”

“Expeliarmus!”

“Protego!”

Holly’s shield charm sent the bolt of blue light flying into the wall, kicking up dust and sending splinters flying. It blocked another disarming charm, and then Sirus Black stepped clearly into view. He had Ron’s wand in his hand, and he looked nothing like he had in Gryffindor tower. His face held a terrible rage, and he slashed his wand at Hermione and Ginny as they entered the room after Holly.

“Protego!” Ginny shouted, Hermione was too slow to react and would have been disarmed if Ginny’s spell hadn’t protected them both.

“Stupefy!” Holly shouted, but Black deflected her spell with casual ease. Again he’d cast only clearly incanted disarming spells when he could cast a non-verbal shield charm with ease. Something clicked in Holly’s mind as she thought the situation through.

“You’re not going to hurt Holly!” Ginny said, her wand almost seeming to glow.

“If you want to kill her, you’ll have to fight all of us!” Hermione yelled.

Ron charged forward, despite his injured leg, trying to tackle Black. Still dressed in his prison uniform, the gaunt man simply stepped to the side and sent Ron tumbling backwards with a nonverbal knockback jinx. He snapped his fingers, and ropes bound Ron tightly.

“I don’t think you want to kill me at all,” Holly said slowly, lowering her wand. She really, really hoped that this worked because she knew she couldn’t outduel Black if he was out to kill her. That night in Gryffindor tower had shown how skilled Black was, even when he limited himself to stunners and disarming charms.

“Finally worked that out, have you? I haven’t so much as hexed anyone all year, and the Ministry thinks I’m here to kill my goddaughter. You know you look so much like them Holly,” Sirius Black said, his voice soft despite Black’s raspiness.

“Wh-what? Goddaughter?” Holly said, thoroughly confused. She thought Black might have some plan, or maybe he’d regretted being a death eater, but why would her parents make Voldemort’s second in command her godfather?

“Well, I suppose you’re down as my godson in the paperwork... You mean you don’t know? All this time the Ministry has thought I was after you, and nobody told you why I was in Azkaban?” Black said, sounding confused himself. Hermione and Ginny were still pointing their wands at him, but they looked as confused as everyone else.

“You killed thirteen people with one curse - I guess I assumed that was enough,” Holly said.

“Then if your friends would lower their wands, I’ll tell you the real story of what happened the night your parents died...” Black said, lowering his own wand.

“Holly...” Hermione said, but Holly gently put her hand on Hermione’s and lowered her wand.

“It’s okay. Black’s had plenty of chances to kill me all year, and he hasn’t taken any of them. I - I think we’re safe enough, for now,” Holly said.

“I - I was friends with your father in school, Holly. There were four of us - James, me, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew-” Black explained, but Holly interrupted him.

“As in our defence professor? I knew he was friends with my parents, but he didn’t tell me about you or Pettigrew,” Holly said.

“Well, I imagine it’s a tough thing for Remus to talk about. We were all so close, and the two of us - well, it can’t have been easy to be the last Marauder,” Sirius said, and Holly blinked.

“As in the Marauder’s Map?” she asked.

“You have that old thing? Your father would be proud. Yes, we made the map. We were right cocky little shits, but we did do a little bit of clever magic in our day. Like becoming Animagi in our school days. Your father was a stag, you’ve already seen Padfoot, and Peter was a rat. In more ways than one,” Sirius said, walking forward and picking Scabbers up.

“Why does Scabbers alone out of all the pets in the castle show up on the map?” Holly asked, quietly. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

“Because he can carve a name change for himself in our little patch of the Hogwart’s wardstones, but he was always the worst of us at runes. No way you’d want to try messing with the wards themselves, would you?” Sirius said to Scabbers.

“The wardstones? Of course, someone would have noticed the sort of tracking charms you’d need for the map unless they were already there,” Hermione said.

“You’re a smart one, Hermione. I’m glad Holly has friends with a least a little common sense... but getting back to your friend’s rat. How long has he been in your family, Ronald?” Sirius said.

“Twelve years?” Ron said, very confused at how Scabbers could be doing magic.

“Awfully long-lived for a common garden rat, wouldn’t you say? And this missing toe...” Sirius said.

“All they found of Pettigrew was a finger,” Holly said, her voice barely above a whisper. Why would Peter Pettigrew need to hide, she wondered.

“During the war, when things were getting really bad, your parents went into hiding, Holly. Your mother cast a charm to hide you and your parents from Voldemort. The Fidelus charm kept them so secret that Voldemort could have been looking through your living room window and not seen them, but it had one weakness. Someone had to be the Secret Keeper, someone who could reveal the secret - but only by their own free will. They told everyone in the Or - on our side it was me, and that was the plan at first. Only I got too clever, and I got them killed for it,” Sirius said, and Holly felt empty. She remembered Draco’s taunting, and she realised then that he’d known.

“We thought there was someone spying for Voldemort, so I suggested a little trick. We’d say I was the Secret Keeper but instead they’d make Peter Pettigrew the Secret Keeper. No one would ever expect it, and all the attention from the other side would be focused on me, only...” Sirius continued, trialling off.

“Only Pettigrew was the traitor,” Holly said, finishing the sentence for Sirius. He nodded slowly.

“The night your parents died, I was so angry I wasn’t thinking straight. I tracked down Peter and held him at wandpoint in front of a dozen muggles. He killed them all with one spell, and then he chopped his own finger off and escaped-” Sirius said, only to be interrupted by someone entering the room.

Professor Lupin raced through the doorway, his wand lit and out, and he looked towards Sirius - and towards the rat he was holding.

“You got complacent, Padfoot. I saw you skulking around these four from my office window,” Lupin said, his wand still pointed at Sirius.

“Please, Professor, he’s innocent-” Holly began, but Lupin cut her off.

“I can see that, Holly. You switched, you stupid bastard,” Lupin said, but his voice lacked any trace of anger.

“I got too clever, Remus. I’m sorry-” Sirius said, but he was cut off as Lupin lowered his wand and crossed the room to kiss him. Holly looked away, blushing. That was rather more intimate a kiss than she wanted to see a teacher give anyone.

“It wasn’t you, Sirius, and that’s enough,” Lupin said.

“What are you going to do now?” Holly asked when she could look at the two of them again.

“Well, seeing as how I’ve spent twelve years in Azkaban for it, I rather thought I’d kill Peter. Not as a rat, though” Sirius said, dropping Scabbers to the floor. He waved his wand towards him and then there was a short, balding man in a cheap, stained set of robes. His skin looks loose, and Holly thought that his teeth looked a little rat-like.

Peter Pettigrew was alive, and he was sitting on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, looking up at his former friends in utter terror.

Chapter 32: Year Three, Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Text

“Sirius, Remus, please!” Pettigrew said, getting to his knees. The immobilising charm had failed after he’d been transformed back into a human, and Pettigrew desperately looked around for someone who might help him.

“Why hello, Peter,” Lupin said, his voice sounding almost pleasant. His wand was pointed directly at Pettigrew, the tip still lit up.

“Remus, please. You can’t believe him, he tried to kill me!” Pettigrew said.

“We all know you were the Secret Keeper, Peter. Why hide if you weren’t?” Lupin said.

“I was afraid of Sirius escaping - of You-Know-Who’s other followers,”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that you were afraid of Voldemort’s followers. Not very popular with them, for some reason. They seem to think that you betrayed their lord,” Sirius said. Pettigrew gave off a pathetic keening noise, turning away from Remus and towards Ron.

“Please, you can’t let them kill me. I was a good rat, wasn’t I?” Pettigrew said, but Ron only looked at him disgustedly.

“I let you sleep on my bed! Get away from me!” Ron said, kicking at Pettigrew with his one good leg.

“Enough of this. We’ll do it together, Remus,” Sirius said, and he lowered his wand until it pointed at Pettigrew’s chest.

“No, Holly, you wouldn’t let them kill me. Your parents wouldn’t want them to kill me,” Pettigrew said, tears in his eyes as he grabbed desperately at Holly’s robes. She looked at him, and he couldn’t meet her gaze. His hands dropped to his sides, and he started to sob.

Holly wanted to kill him. She wanted to see him suffer, to endure something for all the pain he had caused her. Peter Pettigrew was the reason she had grown up with the Dursleys. He’d betrayed her parents to Voldemort.

Hermione and Ron looked away. Ginny just stared straight at Pettigrew, her face full of anger. Holly looked at Peter Pettigrew, and she saw a coward. But he was on his knees, without a wand, and no real threat to anyone.

“Please, Sirius. This is wrong,” Holly said, and it hurt to speak. To save Pettigrew’s life. She remembered Quirrel screaming, as she put her hands on his face. How his skin had melted away beneath her hands.

“He killed twelve innocent people! He betrayed James and Lilly - he betrayed your parents to Voldemort! He deserves to die!” Sirius shouted, and Holly couldn’t disagree. If anyone deserved to die, it was Peter Pettigrew. But this, some small part of her stubbornly whispered, was wrong.

“Maybe he does. But I don’t think my parents would have wanted you to become a murderer for them Sirius... and this would be murder,” Holly said.

“I... I suppose you’re the only one who has a right to decide, Holly. But think about what he did...” Sirius said, lowering his wand.

“Holly! Thank you, it’s more than I -” Pettigrew began, but Holly had long since stopped looking at him.

“We’ll take him up to the castle, and he can rot in Azkaban for all I care,” Holly said, and Lupin nodded slowly.

“If you’re sure,” Lupin said and stunned Pettigrew with casual, nonverbal, ease. He fell bonelessly to the floor, landing with a soft ‘thump’.

“Now what?” Ginny asked.

“We take Pettigrew up to the castle. I’m sure the Headmaster will be very interested in seeing him,” Lupin said. Sirius handed Ron back his wand, after conjuring a splint for his leg and healing the cuts.

“Surface damage only is about the limits of my talents. Let me help you up,” Sirius said, and he put one of Ron’s arms around his shoulder as everybody headed back into the passageway. Lupin cast a spell to lift Pettigrew’s unconscious body into the air, and he floated Pettigrew in front of the group.

Sirius and Holly walked a little behind the group, without either of them having to say anything. They both knew that they had things to say to one another.

“You know, turning Pettigrew in like this - I, well I told you about being your godfather. If you wanted to stay with your Aunt and Uncle, I’d understand, but if you wanted to stay somewhere else...” Sirius said, quietly

“I’d leave the Dursleys in a heartbeat, Sirius. There are reasons why I need to stay there for a bit in the Summer - Dumbledore can explain - but... yeah, I’d love to,” Holly said, and she saw Sirius smile for the first time. It was a huge, warm smile - the kind she imagined he’d had before the war.

“That’s... that’s good,” Sirius said.

“Have you taken your potion, professor?” Hermione said quietly, but Holly just about managed to overhear it.

“Snape delivered it to me just before I left... but we should still have some time until moonrise,” Lupin said, nodding, and Holly wondered what all that was about. Why would Lupin need to worry about...

And then, quite suddenly, it hit her. Snape’s essay, his regular sickness - Professor Lupin was a werewolf. She’d read a bit about wolfsbane potion for Snape’s essay, and if Hermione wasn’t concerned it was likely fine, but still - it was shocking.

They exited the tunnel, Lupin freezing the Whomping Willow, and started to walk towards the grounds. The sun was still setting, slowly slipping below the horizon. A bitterly cold wind blew across the grounds, and Holly shivered.

“Sirius, take my wand. It’s late enough that I better-” Lupin began, only to be hit with a jet of red light and crumple to the ground. Pettigrew dropped as well, and Holly drew her wand lightning fast. She couldn’t see who had cast the spell, nor had she heard an incantation. Sirius rushed towards Lupin, but another jet of red light struck him. Ron dropped to the ground as Sirius dashed for the wand, and only barely managed not to hurt himself.

Snape seemed to step out of the darkness, the disillusionment charm fading slowly around him. His robes billowed in the wind, and his face bore a cruel smirk.

“Well well, what have we here? You four are lucky I arrived as soon as I did - Sirius Black and a Werewolf... you’re lucky you weren’t killed. And that I thought to follow Lupin’s rather suspicious movements this evening,” Snape said.

“He’s innocent, Professor,” Hermione said.

“Peter Pettigrew’s right there!” Ginny said.

“He was the one working for Voldemort, not Sirius,” Holly said, stepping in front of her godfather. Snape paused for a moment, and for the first time in months, he looked at Holly.

“I doubt that very much, Miss Potter,” Snape said, and the look he gave her was strange. Still, he bent down to examine the unconscious Pettigrew. Snape rolled up the sleeve of Pettigrew’s dirty robe and looked for something on his arm. Holly couldn’t see what it was, but she saw Snape’s eyes go wide.

Then Pettigrew’s eyes opened in a flash, and he kicked Snape hard between the legs. Shocked and in pain, Snape was unable to stop Pettigrew from grabbing his wand.

“Expulso!” Pettigrew snarled, and a blast of blue light sent Snape flying backwards. He landed with a sicking crushing noise in the dirt, his arm clearly broken.
“Expeliarmus!” Holly shouted, casting the fastest spell she could. Pettigrew deflected it, and he stood, grinning.

“All alone now, freak. The Dark Lord will reward me greatly when I bring you to him,” Pettigrew said, all of his snivelling gone.

“She’s not alone!” Ginny said, pointing her wand at Pettigrew.

“We’re not going to let you hurt her!” Ron shouted, standing despite the pain.

Hermione’s eyes were wide, and her hand was shaking, but she kept her wand pointed at Pettigrew all the same.

“Such loyal friends - I’ll spare their lives if you come willingly, Potter,” Pettigrew said.

“FUMINA!” Holly shouted, and she slashed her wand at him. A crackling whip of lightning slammed into Pettigrew’s shield charm, and he took a step back.

“Stupefy!” Ginny shouted, as did Ron and Hermione. Their stunning spells slammed into Pettigrew’s shield charm, and Holly saw it crack.

Pettigrew cast a blasting curse at Holly, but she deflected it with a shield of her own. A reflected stunner caught Ron, and he was blasted off his feet by the force of it.

“Expulso! Confringo! Bombarda!” Holly shouted, firing curse after curse at Pettigrew. He was surprisingly fast, and his shield charm was strong.

“Reducto!” Hermione shouted, and Pettigrew’s shield charm cracked ever so slightly. He whirled around at her and jabbed his wand at her. She was blasted backwards, only her powerful shield charm keeping her from broken bones or worse. Her wand went flying, the sheer force of the spell flinging it from her grip.

“Diffindo! Reducto!” Holly shouted, and Pettigrew had to turn to face her once more. He stepped backwards, and Ginny had to shield herself from a deflected cutting charm. She was firing curses at Pettigrew too, and fending off the both of them was slowly pushing Pettigrew back.

“Oh, you can duel Potter. Just like your father - you even share a weakness for redheads! Crucio!” Pettigrew shouted, and Ginny screamed. It was brief, less than a second of exposure, but Ginny sank to her knees from the pain. Holly roared in anger, and she felt... something. Something less than thought, and more than instinct. Her mouth incanted words she did not know, words in the tongue of serpents.

She slashed her wand at Pettigrew, and that same whip of black lighting Riddle had tried to use on her in the chamber slashed straight through Pettigrew’s shield and his wand arm. The wound was blackened and rotting, and Pettigrew’s wand arm turned to ash before it hit the ground. Snape’s wand landed on the ground, and Pettigrew stared at her, his eyes wide. Holly started at her own wand in horror.

She didn’t know that spell. She’d never even so much as read about it, and yet she had cast it. Cast one of Riddle’s spells. One of Voldemort’s.

Pettigrew came to his senses first and transformed back into his Animagus form. Holly snapped out of her growing horror for the moment and tried to hit him with a stunner but, as a rat, Pettigrew was too fast to hit. The dim red light of the fading sunset made it hard to see him, and Holly thought he was going to get away... and then she remembered her divination exam.

She ran after him and transformed, her wings beating with tremendous speed as she chased him. He evaded her once, and then again, and soon they were at the edge of the forrest. Then Holly closed with him, and Pettigrew had time only to let out a terrified squeak before she picked him up with her talons and threw him against a tree. He transformed back before he hit, and as he did so so did Holly.

She landed nimbly on her feet as Pettigrew tried to scramble away from her, only for him to trip and fall as he tried to get up. He stared up at her in fear, and Holly raised her wand. She felt the incantation to another spell almost form on her lips, but she let it go. She bound Pettigrew in conjured ropes to the tree, and aimed her wand at him.

“You made a mistake, hurting my friends,” Holly said.

“And you made one showing me your form. An unregistered Animagus and a dark wizard? Let me go and the Ministry need never know,” Pettigrew said, his eyes fearful.

“Need never know what?” Holly asked, and before Pettigrew could answer, she cast her spell. “Obliviate!” she shouted, and Pettigrew’s eyes had only a moment to widen in fear. They rolled back as the grey light washed over him, and Holly concentrated on the memories of her Animagus form. She felt her spell touch them, and she felt them disappear.

She stunned Pettigrew and hit him with a bodybind for good measure. The wind somehow got even colder and blew with tremendous force. Holly looked at her frosting breath in alarm. She heard distant shouting, and she turned to look. She could see, in the very last rays of the setting sun, dozens of cloaked figures silhouetted against the sky. They rushed over her head, ignoring her to focus on their prize. She still felt their touch, felt her memories of the chamber, but she was able to retain enough of herself to transform.

Then, as soon as she became a raven, the crushing aura of despair was gone. She elt out a caw of triumph and flew with all her speed towards her friends. The chill wind that had come with Dementors bent to her will, the instinctual magic of her form allowing her to fly faster than her wings should have allowed.
Holly hoped desperately that she wasn’t too late, and as she crested the last hill she felt her heart leap in triumph. Hermione and Ginny had clearly woken up Ron, and the three of them were keeping the Dementors at bay with shields of silvery mist. Even as Holly flew towards them, she saw an otter formed of silvery light emerge from Hermione’s wand.

She landed in the midst of the group and transformed back into herself. She felt the Dementors begin to affect her, muted by the incorporeal Patrnouses, but before they could get a real grip in her mind she thrust her wand forward.

“Expecto Patronum!” she shouted, and a huge silver doe charged forth from her wand. It bodily slammed aside several dementors, and Holly felt their grip on her fade completely. There were dozens of them, and more seemed to be arriving every minute.

“Holly!” Ginny shouted, and then from her wand emerged a silvery horse that joined Holly’s doe and Hermione’s otter in fighting off the Dementors.

“Renneverate! Renneverate!” Ron said, reviving Lupin and Sirius. His own incorporeal Patronus faded, but he quickly cast it again. “Nice timing, mate!” he said, as Sirius and Lupin woke.

“Did you get Pettigrew?” Hermione asked.

“He’s not going anywhere!” Holly said.

“What - Expecto Patronum!” Lupin shouted, his own silvery wolf joining the defence. As Lupin shouted that, Snape staggered to his feet. He looked at Sirius, and then at the Dementors. Snape grabbed his wand, and turned his back on Sirius to face the castle.

“Potter is surrounded by Dementors on the grounds!” Snape shouted, and then from his wand shot a Patronus very much like Holly’s own. A silvery doe raced out of his wand and through the air towards the castle. Holly looked at him in shock.

Lupin looked at the sky and threw Sirius his wand. Sirius looked at Snape’s back for a moment before he summoned his own Patronus - a dog just like his Animagus form.

“That’s a hell of a Patronus, Holly!” Sirius shouted but even with so many corporeal Patronuses, there were just too many Dementors. Holly saw the silvery animals be pushed slowly back, saw more and more of the Dementors swarm around them. They were being overwhelmed.

Then, in a flash of bright orange flame and Phoenix song, Albus Dumbledore arrived. He waved his wand in the circular movement of the Patronus charm, and a great Phoenix shot forth from it. A great wave of silver fire seemed to follow it, and the Dementors wailed as one. They could not face such a thing, and all of the guardian spirits Holly and her friends had conjured joined Dumbledore’s silvery phoenix in driving away the Dementors.

Next to Dumbledore, Holly saw something she hadn’t expected - Peter Pettigrew, still stunned but no longer bound.

“You got my message, Headmaster,” Snape said.

“In a manner of speaking,” Dumbledore said, and he gave Hermione a very odd look. Her eyes went wide, and Holly wanted desperately to know what that was about. “Let us get out of the cold, and see that your wounds are attended to. I believe I owe Sirius here a long-overdue conversation,” Dumbledore said, and he led them all (and a floating, unconscious Pettigrew) back towards the castle. Lupin did not join them, instead walking back into the secret passage beneath the Whomping Willow.

Chapter 33: Year Three, Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Text

Dumbledore led all of them back to the castle, Sirius and Snape glaring at one another the whole time. Dumbledore had conjured a pair of crutches for Ron, and nobody said very much as they walked across the dark grounds. Holly felt bone-deep exhaustion, and she was very glad that she didn’t have an exam tomorrow as Ron and Hermione did.

The huge wooden double doors to the entrance hall swung open as they approached, the castle simply opening the way for the Headmaster without any magic on his part. The four black-uniformed hitwizards standing guard, with their distinctive striped caps and short cloaks, stepped back in shock as they saw the group enter the school.

They all drew their wands, but none of them seemed all too eager to get into a fight with Dumbledore, and the oldest amongst them looked nervously at Sirius before he spoke.

“Headmaster, you - that is to say...” he said, lowering his wand as he spoke.

“Suffice it to say that new evidence about Mr Black has come to light,” Dumbledore said, pausing to step aside and gesture at the floating, unconscious Peter Pettigrew. “Do fetch the Minister, and Madam Bones for good measure, for me Mr Robins,” Dumbledore said. The hitwizard gave the headmaster a sharp salute and called a broom to his hand as he raced out onto the grounds.

Two of the hitwizards accompanied them to the Hospital Wing, standing guard just outside of it.

“Just what have you four gotten yourselves into this time - Merlin’s beard! It’s Sirius Black!” Madam Pomfrey said, and then she saw Pettigrew. “Is - is that Peter Pettigrew?” She asked as her eyes widened with shock.

“I believe it is, Poppy. As you can see he is somewhat worse for wear but very much alive. Best to keep him restrained for now I think,” Dumbledore said, and he levitated Pettigrew onto a bed. Holly sat down on one herself, as did her friends. Snape stayed standing, though Holly could tell he was still in quite some pain. Sirius sat down in a chair Dumbledore conjured, and gave Holly a small smile.

“Merline, what happened to him? This curse... what did Black do to him?” Pomfrey said as she cast several spells over the ruin of Pettigrew’s wand arm. She began to look increasingly concerned and turned to Snape. “I’ll need your help with this, Severus. We’ll need to amputate the rest of the arm to stop the curse from killing him, and even then...” Pomfrey said, and Holly felt sick.

Snape joined Madam Pomfrey by Pettigrew’s bed and closed the curtains behind him. Dumbledore looked at Holly and then turned to her friends.

“Miss Granger, I believe you have a message to deliver. Two turns ought to be enough. Mr Weasley, Miss Weasley... would you mind terribly if I took Miss Potter for a short walk?”
“That’s... that’s okay, Professor,” Ginny said, leaning tiredly against Ron. Hermione followed Holly and Dumbledore out of the Hosptial Wing and into the halls of the castle, then she turned to Holly.

“I need to go... well, to go make sure the Headmaster arrives in time. I promise, I’ll explain everything afterwards,” Hermione said, hugging Holly.

“Good luck,” Holly said simply, and then Hermione dashed around the corner and vanished out of sight. Holly was alone with Dumbledore, and could not meet his gaze.

“I - I didn’t mean to...” she said, not looking at Dumbledore. She stared out through a window, blinking back tears.

“I did not think you did,” Dumbledore said, his voice warm and comforting. Rain began to fall from the thick grey clouds overhead. It pattered against the glass of the window, and Holly shivered a little.

“I just... it felt like when I used parseltongue to open the chamber. I just knew how to dit, somehow,” Holly said.

“I had hoped that was the extent of the powers Voldemort left to you when he failed to kill you... but this was not unexpected, Holly. Powerful, deep magic like the magic used that Halloween night always leaves traces deeper than simple scars,” Dumbledore said, his words echoed by a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder.

“I don’t want to become Dark, like him,” Holly said, quietly.

“If the events of tonight have demonstrated anything, Holly, it is your compassion. Many good men and women would not have spoken up to save Peter Pettigrew’s life. To do so required bravery of a kind far more important than meer willingness to face danger,” Dumbledore said.

“I didn’t mean to hit his arm,” Holly said, her voice barely audible above the howling of the wind.

“You were defending your friends against a murderous dark wizard. I will not judge you, a girl of thirteen, for doing whatever you could to try to stop him. But it is good that he was captured alive. Sirius Black will go free, and a long injustice will finally be corrected,”

“Professor... there’s something else. During my Divination exam... I think Professor Trelawney gave a real prophecy,” Holly said.

“Remarkable - a third true prophecy from one Seer. I shall have to give her a raise. Do you remember the exact words?” Dumbledore asked, and Holly recited it, word for word.

“So that’s it, Professor. Does that mean Voldemort’s coming back?” Holly asked.
“Most certainly, but that is something I have suspected for quite some time. I had hoped to give you more time... to see you a grown witch, with a happy childhood behind her, before such a thing happened. I see now that we have run out of time,”

“Professor?” Holly said, unsure what he meant.

“There are things you must know, Holly... things I would not burden a child with, if I had any other choice. Things you must learn if we are to be prepared. When you return to Hogwarts, we will begin,” Dumbledore said, and Holly finally looked away from the window. Distant lightning flashed, and she slowly nodded as the sound of thunder reached them.

Madam Pomfrey fixed Holly and her friends up fairly quickly, mending bruised ribs and broken legs with mere taps of her wand. Peter Pettigrew was still lying stunned on a hospital bed, the stump of his wand arm covered in bandages.

About an hour later, the door of the Hospital Wing swung open to reveal two people. Holly recognised the Minister, Cornelius Fudge but not the witch walking slightly behind him. She was an older woman, her brown hair streaked with grey, but with a strength to her that the long middle-age of a witch hadn’t sapped from her. Madam Bones had none of the Minister’s flab, and her black robes, while finely cut, lacked any of his ostentatious flair.

“What’s all this nonsense about Sirius Black being innocent?” Fudge said as he entered the Hospital Wing, but he stopped as he saw both Black and Pettigrew. “My word, you have some explaining to do Dumbledore!”

“Of course, Cornelius. The tale is rather long, so perhaps you would like to take a seat?” Dumbledore said, conjuring two more armchairs. Dumbledore, with help from Sirius, went on to explain all about the switched Secret Keepers and Pettigrew framing Black.

“Well, I admit it’s rather hard to deny that there’s more to the story seeing Pettigrew in the flesh. And all this business about switched Secret Keepers is plausible. You’re willing to take veritaserum, Black?” Fudge said.

“I have nothing to hide, Minister,” Sirius said.

“You must see that this places me in an awkward position, Dumbledore. The last son of one of the Sacred Twenty Eight tossed in Azkaban without a trial...” Fudge said, almost pleadingly.

“What did you do at the Ministry when Sirius was arrested, minister?” Holly asked.

“I was, ah, heading up the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes at the time,” Fudge said, looking a little confused.

“And you, Madam Bones?” Holly asked.
“I was still an Auror then, Miss Potter,”

“So neither of you had anything to do with Sirius not getting a trial. Who was behind that, anyway?” Holly asked.

“Barty Crouch Senior,” Sirius said bitterly.

“So wouldn’t you acting to correct an injustice here be a good look, Minister? I’m sure you’re eager to be known for your fairness,” Holly said.

“Miss Potter makes a good point, Cornelius. I’m sure the public would approve of a long-standing injustice being corrected,” Dumbledore said.

“You make a good point, the both of you. There will have to be an inquiry into how all this happened - Crouch... well, in any case, we best get Pettigrew to the Ministry. Black... well, as you were never sentenced to Azkaban, you haven’t actually committed a crime by escaping from it. I imagine you’ll have to pay a fine for being an unregistered Animagus, but you’re a free man. Still, it would be for the best if you came with us too - get everything down on the record, you know,” Fudge said.

“Anything to put the rat where he belongs. Holly, I’ll see you soon,” Sirius said, and he hugged her. She hugged him back and smiled widely.

“Once again, we are all in your debt Miss Potter - you and your friends. We really must have that lunch some time... well, good evening to you all,” Fudge said, and then he and Madam Bones left with Sirius, an unconscious Pettigrew, and the hitwizards.

Hermione took Ron, Holly, and Ginny aside the next day after they’d all been released from the Hospital Wing. Ron and Hermione had just finished their exams, and the four of them were enjoying a stress-free afternoon sitting outside in the sun.

“I promised to explain what Dumbledore asked me to do last night... so here it is,” Hermione said, as she took a small golden necklace out from under her shirt. It seemed to have a kind of hourglass pendant. “This is the time turner I’ve been using to attend all my classes,” Hermione continued.

“Wicked,” Ginny said.

“Woah... I didn’t know they let students use those,” Ron said. Holly just felt confused.

“Sorry, what’s a time-turner?” Holly asked.

“It lets you travel backwards in time! Only the Ministry has them, and they’re really strict about giving them out,” Ron said.
“It’s a little more complicated than that, but yes. I went back two hours and told Dumbledore about everything - that was how he got there so fast,” Hermione said.

The school was awash with rumours about what had happened the previous night, and then at breakfast two days later Holly saw that the story had finally broken. She picked up Hermione’s copy of the Daily Prophet and began to read.

SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT! PETTIGREW REALLY DEATH EATER, SENTENCED TO LIFE IN AZKABAN!

Today, in Courtroom Twelve at the Ministry of Magic, one of the most dramatic trials in recent memory took place. Peter Pettigrew, thought to have been killed by Sirius Black, was found guilty of twelve counts of murder, two counts of accessory to murder, one count of accessory to attempted murder, and one count of membership of a proscribed group. He was interrogated by means of Veritaserum and the Cheif Warlock’s legilimency, as was Mr Black.

After a unanimous verdict, Pettigrew was sentenced to life in Azkaban. Many members of the Wizengamot pushed for the Dementor’s Kiss to be enacted but, at the request of Mr Black, the sentence was commuted to life in Azkaban.

Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge has announced an inquiry into how Mr Black, the last son of a prominent Pureblood house, was subject to such an injustice. Barty Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, will be called to testify. Rumours have reached this reporter that he may be facing criminal charges for his illegal confinement of Black.

For the thrilling story of how Holly Potter captured Pettigrew, see page three.

- Rita Skeeter

“Not a word of apology for their part in whipping up hysteria about Sirius, of course,” Hermione said.

“Well that’s ‘cause they’re not sorry about it,” Ron said and went back to reading the sports section. The Chudley Cannons had managed the rare feat of drawing a Quidditch match, breaking their seventeen game losing streak. “You know, it’s the Quidditch World Cup this summer - Dad can always get tickets from work for international games, you two should come see it with us,” Ron said.

“I’d love to, Ron,” Holly said, smiling broadly.

Chapter 34: Year Three, Chapter Twenty Three

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Is it true you’re not coming back next year, Professor?” Holly asked Lupin the next day, after their last class. Lupin had handed out little cards with their exam results, and overall marks, along with specific feedback. Holly, Ron, and Hermione had all got an Outstanding on the final exam, with a little note from Lupin on all of their cards that they had done well enough to deserve it even without the token.

“It is. Teaching here has been a privilege, and I will be forever grateful to Dumbledore for giving me the chance... but there are things I need to do. Quite aside from looking after Sirius - and he will need looking after for a while, despite what he might say - Dumbledore has asked to do a few things that would keep me too busy to teach,” Lupin said, putting away his things.

“I guess that makes sense. We’re all going to miss you, you know. You were loads better than Lockhart or Quirrel,” Holly said.

“Well, I’m proud I was a better teacher than a servant of Voldemort or a serial fraud,” Lupin said, smiling. “More seriously, I was very glad to be able to finally meet you, Holly. You truly are a most remarkable witch, and I’m sure your parents would have been very proud of you,” Lupin continued, and Holly couldn’t help but smile, even if it was a little sadly.

“Thank you, Professor. It - it really meant a lot to me to hear about them from one of their friends,” Holly said.

“Please, Holly. As I will very shortly not be your teacher, call me Remus,” he said, and Holly indeed.

In the last days of the term, the entire school got their results. Holly had done every well, scoring an ‘Outstanding’ in Defence, Charms, and Care of Magical Creatures. She’d gotten ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in everything else - by far her best results from a year at Hogwarts. Hermione had, of course, gotten ‘Outstanding’ for everything.

Percy Weasley seemed to become almost an entirely different person after he received his NEWT marks. He was calmer and less prone to giving out punishments. He even laughed at one of Fred and George’s jokes.

Holly thought that she had learnt a lot this year, though a lot of it was outside of her classes. She’d learnt to cast a Patronus, became an Animagus, and more besides. She looked forward to being able to go flying with Hedwig over the summer nights, to seeing Penny and all the other kids from Stonewall she’d keep in contact with through letters. Things had certainly changed from the dread she felt at the end of her first year, but she still felt a little sad to be leaving Hogwarts behind for the summer.

“Miss Potter? Dumbledore would like to speak to you in his office. The password is ‘Ice Mice’,” Professor McGonagall told Holly on the last day of term, and although Holly was a little confused at the password, she walked all the way up the grand staircase and gave the password to the gargoyle.

She found the inner door open, and so Holly walked right into Dumbledore’s office. It was full of whirling contraptions and softly-glowing artifacts. Portraits of past headmasters lined the walls, and further back Holly could see shelves full of books. Sitting in a comfortable looking armchair, facing Dumbledore, was someone she had wanted to see again ever since that June night.
“Sirius!” Holly said, rushing over to him. He stood, and she hugged him forcefully. He was still gaunt and a little unwell looking, but his hair was no longer one giant tangle and his robes were well-made and clean.

“It’s good to see you again too, Holly. I heard you were Remus’s best student,” Sirius said, and she blushed.

“I shall leave the two of you the office, Sirius. I will return here when they have need of you the Inquiry,” Dumbledore, said, as he stood up and threw some green powder into the fireplace. It roared to life with bright green flames, and Dumbledore stepped through it without concern. Sirius pulled over another armchair for her, and Holly sat down opposite him.

“So, I’ve been talking to Dumbledore about your living situation... I know you need to stay for a while with your Aunt and Uncle, but if you’d like to, you could live with me the rest of the time,” Sirius said, and Holly was surprised to hear some nervousness in his voice.

“Of course I’d like that. Do you have a house? Where would we stay?” Holly asked, excitedly.

“I did end up owning the old Black family home. From the little look I had in it, I’d say we’d be better off burning the place down for the insurance money, but it’s a well-warded and large house in London. Not exactly an easy thing to find for sale,” Sirius said.

“I suppose. If you don’t like it...” Holly said, trailing off.

“Don’t worry about it, Holly. Remus and I will clean the place up while you’re stuck with the Dursleys and then... well, I think the three of us will probably drive my dear old mother’s portrait mad, and that’s the best use I can think of putting Grimmauld Place to,” Sirius said, grinning.

“So Remus is going to be staying with us?” Holly asked, innocently.

“Well, you know, it’s hard for him to find a place...” Sirius said, suddenly sounding very awkward.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Holly teased, trying not to giggle.

“Yep. So don’t go opening bedroom doors at will, young lady,” Sirius said.

“Ewww. Old guys making out,” Holly said, and the two of them could no longer hold back their laughter.

“So I remember quite a few kids started dating in their third year... anyone caught your eye?” Sirius said, and Holly felt like she had challenged a master.

“No-nobody!” she squeaked, blushing. “Anyway, um, were you the one who sent me a Firebolt at Christmas? A lot of people thought you did, although they also thought it was cursed,” Holly said, desperately changing the subject.

“I had a few missed birthdays and Christmases to catch up on. And seeing you win the cup on it was worth every galleon - Merlin, but are you a great seeker,” Sirius said.

“You were watching? As, um, as Padfoot?” Holly asked.

“I couldn’t miss watching my goddaughter play for Gryffindor now, could I? I tried to find you in Surrey, too, but you were already gone by the time I got there,” Sirius said.

“Wait - that wasn’t you near Hampstead?” Holly asked, confused. That was the first time she’d seen the “Grimm” - walking back to Hermione’s house.

“Wasn’t me. I know some wizards put a lot of stock in this whole ‘Grimm’ business, but it was probably just a stray, Holly,” Sirius said.

“Yeah, sure... um, there’s something I need to tell you,” Holly said. “Actually, I think it’s easier if I just show you,” she said a moment later and transformed into her animal form. She cawed at Sirius, and his eyes went wide.

“Of course you’re an Animagus before you’re fourteen - was that how you caught Pettigrew? He was always bloody fast as a rat,” Sirius said.

“Correct, Mr Black,” Holly said in a perfect imitation of Snape’s voice, and Sirius’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

“That... that is not something you should be doing, young lady,” Sirius said, laughing. Holly transformed back and grinned at him.

The train ride back to King’s Cross station was always a bit bittersweet for Holly, but she and her friends had a great time in their compartment. They ate wizarding sweets and played a raucous game of exploding snap. Hermione proved herself to be surprisingly good at the game and even managed to beat the twins when they wandered in - who had previously been the undisputed champions of Gryffindor tower.

“Remind me never to play poker against our little bushy-haired card shark over there, George,” Fred said.

“Agreed. Those disgustingly high grades and thick books hide a gambler’s heart, Fred,” George said.

“Shut it, you two,” Ron said, but Holly could see he was trying not to laugh.

“Say, have you two ever heard of this muggle card game called blackjack?” Hermione asked innocently, and the twins leaned in, interested despite themselves. Holly giggled, having seen enough television over Dudley’s head to know why Hermione might suggest that game.

“You two’ll come over this summer, yeah?” Ron asked, and Holly nodded.

“The World Cup sounds completely mental,” Holly said, and Ron smiled.

“It does sound... interesting,” Hermione said, and then Holly had said her goodbyes. She put her things on a trolley, let Hedwig out to fly to Privet Drive, and walked back through the barrier and into the Muggle world once more.

Vernon Dursley was waiting for her, angrily reading the Daily Mail and muttering at passersby. What surprised Holly, though, were the two men sitting opposite him. Remus Lupin wore a shabby, but a surprisingly ordinary, suit. On the other hand, Sirius was dressed in a manner that could only be described as ‘cool’. The clothes were a little out of date, but she saw more than one passing woman give him a second look.

“Hello, Uncle,” Holly said, pleasantly. That always made her uncle mad.

“I’ve been hearing complaints about you, bo - Potter. Corrupting the neighbourhood kids - I won’t have it,” Vernon said.

“Oh, you’re here already Holly,” Sirius said, getting up. “I’m Sirius Black, Holly’s godfather. Had a rather unfortunate stint in Azkaban - false murder charges, that sort of thing. All that’s cleared up now, though,” Sirius said, holding out his hand for Vernon to shake. Holly thought her uncle might have a heart attack.

“G-g-good to meet you,” Vernon said fearfully.

“I’ll just be popping over occasionally while Holly’s staying with you - just to... check up on things,” Sirius said with an evil grin.

+++++

Winky screamed as the black-uniformed men blasted in the door. Her master whirled around, his wand in his hand, but the hitwizards stunned him in moments. The proud old man crumpled to the floor, his wand rolling across the floor and under a couch.

“You will leave Winky’s master’s house!” Winky shouted, and she snapped her fingers three times. Two of the hitwizards went tumbling backwards, the potent elf-jinxes sending them flying through the living room window. The third managed to shield herself from Winky’s spell.

“Merlin’s left bloody nut, we’ve got a fucking psychotic elf on our hands! Immoboulus!” She shouted, and Winky felt all her limbs freeze. She too fell to the floor, but she was still conscious.

“Kate, do you have it?” one of the other hitwizards asked, as he and the third got up from Crouch’s lawn and dusted themselves off.

“I’ve got it. Merlin, getting defenestrated by an elf - how did the two of you even pass your defence OWLs?”

“I’ll have you know I got an outstanding. Anyway, we’ve got Crouch - the poor bastard. What do we do with the elf?”

“Leave it here,” the hitwitch said, and she and one of the hitwizards grabbed Crouch’s unconscious body. All four then disappeared with a pop.

Winky felt the magic binding her fade, and she started to cry. She had failed her master and her home. She was the worst elf that had ever lived, in her view. Then, with dawning horror, she remembered her other master.

“Hello, Winky. Seems dear old dad’s been a little too naughty where someone was watching. Nice of them to leave me you... and what’s this? His wand? Don’t mind if I do,” Barty Crouch Junior said, tossing off Winky's master’s invisibility cloak, and Winky let out a whimper. She was bound to the line of her master, by magic as ancient as any Winky knew of.

“Ma-master Barty, you should not be doing such things. Master will be angry with you,” Winky pleaded.

“Oh, I don’t think he’ll be feeling much of anything but despair for a very long time, Winky. You and I, though... you and I are going on a little trip,” Barty Crouch Junior said, his eyes alight manic energy.

Notes:

And with that, we close out Year Three!

Chapter 35: Year Four, Chapter One

Chapter Text

Number Four Privert Drive was just how Holly had left it, for the most part. It was still one of dozens of identical houses in neat little lines, each with perfectly manicured lawns and front gardens. As she got her things from her uncle’s car - Vernon, of course, refusing to help - Holly waved to a familiar face walking down the street.

Penny Harper was a very pretty girl who went to the local state school, Stonewall High. She was a year older than Holly and had introduced her to some of her friends who had formed a support group for queer kids. All of them were exactly the sort of people the Dursleys hated, and so Holly had quickly become friends with them. Penny returned Holly’s wave, and as Uncle Vernon had already walked inside, she came over to talk to Holly.

“Holly! You’re back from school!” Penny said, and Holly nodded. It was then that Holly noticed Penny’s new haircut - a short and daring one, at least for Little Whinging.

“How have you been, Penny?” Holly asked. The two of them had sent letters to one another over the school year, but Holly was glad to talk to her in person.

“Not too bad for being stuck in Little Whinging. My mum’s still asking if I have a boyfriend. I swear, that woman’s capacity for self-delusion isn’t human. So what’s all this in your last letter about a secret godfather?” Penny asked, and so Holly explained the story of Sirius Black as well as she could without magic. Then her Aunt asked her what was taking so long, so Holly had to go inside.

When she had put her trunk and other things in her room, Holly headed downstairs and saw something very unusual on the kitchen fridge. Stamped on official Smeltings letterhead was a diet sheet for one Dudley Dursley, stuck to the fridge with a magnet. Intrigued, Holly opened the fridge and found that the usual cavalcade of sugary drinks, processed foods and large slabs of meat had been replaced by what seemed to mostly be fruits and vegetables.

She closed the fridge and saw Dudley walk morosely into the kitchen. He looked at her, and couldn’t even say anything nasty. He just walked to the fridge, opened it, and sighed sadly. Holly found herself feeling a little sorry for Dudely, although the diet would probably be good for him - and better for her uncle.

The kitchen television that Dudely had been so fond of had been smashed in, and Holly knew that his current depressed state would not last. Soon enough, there would be another tantrum. It seemed, though, that the school nurse at Smeltings had found something that even Aunt Petunia was willing to make Dudley do.

Holly made sure to spend as much time as possible outside of Privet Drive that summer. Dudley had soon passed his phase of sullen depression and started taking out his frustrations on any convenient target. Luckily for Holly’s friends, Dudley was more scared of her than he was angry. She spent her nights quickly finishing her summer homework and flying with Hedwig and often hung out with Penny and her friends from Stonewall. Holly sometimes had to think very quickly to come up with muggle-appropriate explanations for things she said about her school.

A few weeks into Holly’s summer holiday, she attended another meeting. They were held in the back of a dingy local cafe in the summer, and as Holly entered it, she saw someone new sitting next to Penny. Holly had heard that Penny had a new girlfriend (as she seemed to do on schedule every few months), but that this time she didn’t go to Stonewall. They had met somewhere in London, and Holly had only seen pictures of her before.

She was a tall, dark-skinned girl dressed in exactly the sort of style Penny wore when she was out of her mother’s grasp and she looked up at Holly in surprise.

“You’re... you’re that Holly Potter,” she said, sounding shocked. By the way, her eyes darted to Holly’s scar, she knew what she was being recognised for.

“Yep, that’s me,” Holly said, sounding a little awkward. Penny was looking at her girlfriend a little strangely.

“Oh, sorry. Um, I’m Jane Thomas. My brother Dean goes to your school,” Jane said.

“It’s fine. Say hi to Dean for me,” Holly said as she sat down.

“Oooh, so what did Dean tell you about her?” Penny asked.

“The way he tells it, she’s some kind of school legend or something. Did you really beat up a teacher?” Jane asked.

“Well, he started it...” Holly said, realising with a start she was unsure which of her Defence professors Jane was talking about.

After the meeting ended, Holly walked over to the local park to enjoy the sunny day. All her summer homework was done, and she enjoyed sitting under her favourite tree, reading one of Dudley’s unloved books.

Dobby kept out of sight, as House Elves liked to do, but he was around to keep an eye on her. The Dursleys didn’t really need watching anymore - Sirius scarred them enough for that - but Holly appreciated Dobby’s help all the same.

Holly’s nighttime flights were some of the best times she’d ever had at Privet Drive, even if Hedwig mostly enjoyed hunting mice and other things that holly had no desire to try. She kept in regular contact with her friends from Hogwarts, writing letters on her worn-down desk. She heard from Sirius about his progress at clearing out the Black house on Grimmauld Place - he and Remus had been swarmed by a truly immense number of doxies today, apparently.

Holly had managed to get some of her spending money from her vault changed to muggle pounds, via Owl order, and she eagerly bought herself some new muggle clothes. Some of that was driven by need - she was never going to be tall, but she was growing - and some of that was driven by the sheer excitement she still felt at getting to be her.

She had started a subscription to the Daily Prophet, mostly for the sports pages. She read the news, always eagre for word from the wizarding world, but she mostly paid attention to the opening matches of the Quidditch World cup. She was disappointed as England was knocked out early on in the competition by Transylvania - a brutal three hundred and ninety to ten stomping.

Barty Crouch Senior, as the Daily Prophet made sure to note, was quite thoroughly made the symbol of everything that had led to Sirius being imprisoned unjustly by the Ministry. Crouch was called before the Inquiry several times, and then eventually faced the full Wizengamot on charges of false imprisonment. Holly winced as she read that he had been sentenced to five years in Azkaban - surely Crouch would not be popular there.

She couldn’t muster up too much sympathy, though. There was a certain ironic justice in the whole thing, sending a man to prison for imprisoning someone without a trial.

Holly did find herself annoyed at the restrictions on using magic outside of school often over the summer - she wanted to practice the spells she read about, to chill her glass of water with a word, even just to cast something - anything.

The night before her birthday - the night before Sirius would arrive and she wouldn’t have to come back to Number Four Privet Drive for a year - Holly went to bed with a splitting headache. She fell to sleep surprisingly easily, as though she had been extremely tired, and then she began to dream.

She was in a forest, forcing her vessel to obey her will. Torrential rain poured down, turning the ground into mud. Lightning flashed in the distance and, for a split second, Holly could see herself. This stolen body would last her only a few more days, her spirit breaking down the weak muggle flesh from sheer proximity.

Holly sat on a throne formed from twisted wood and bone. This vessel would be of use to her after it failed too, and she laughed at the terror she could feel in its pitiful mind. Her laugh was high and mocking, and Holly found it familiar.

Lightning flashed again, and she whipped the eyes of her vessel around. Someone approached her... more than someone. Four figures walked out of the darkness, with what could only be an elf trailing after them. The darkness of the forest night obscured their faces, their modes of dress... but she could feel them. She had senses beyond those of an ordinary wizard.

One of the figures stepped forward, into the pale moonlight. Her heart sang as she recognized him, despite the years. After all these years spent hiding in the dark places of the world, and finally one of her so-called followers had found her.

“My lord, I have returned,” Barty Crouch Junior said, bowing as he did so. His face had new lines, but his eyes were just as alight. Oh, Azkaban had not broken this one, she thought. But then she remembered his supposed fate.

“Have you, Barty? Or does another wear your skin, for last I had heard you lay rotting in an unmarked grave on the isle of Azkaban?” she said, her voice doubled. Hers, and that of her vessel.

“It is me, my lord. My mother took my place, and my father kept me prisoner with the Imperius curse,” Barty said, and she laughed. What bitter irony that Crouch himself had perverted the law so massively.

“How did you escape? Your father was a most formidable wizard,” she said, and it was true. The bitter old warhorse had hurt her forces dearly the last time around.

“My father had a bit of a falling out with the current Minister. Ended up getting dragged off by hitwizards... perhaps they gave him my old cell,” Barty said, cackling.

“Oh, how your news brings me joy, Barty. Joy! But who are your friends, my dear boy?” She said, gesturing her vessel’s hands towards the three shadowy figures.

“You know I had... contacts with those who felt as we did across the continent - and beyond, my lord. I did not wish to return to you empty-handed, and so I have brought to you three emissaries from those who wish to join our cause,” Barty said, and for the first time, one of the shadowy figures spoke.

“We are not alone, Barty. Someone is watching,” a woman said, her accent marking her as French.

“The Dark Lord is not the only spirit here,” another voice said, and this one Holly didn’t recognise.

Holly saw one of the figures - the woman - step out of the darkness. Yet she could see nothing, just a haze in the air and a pair of glowing yellow eyes. The eyes darted this way and that until they snapped right towards Holly. She felt something touch her and then, suddenly, she woke in her bed.

Sweat poured down her, and she touched her hand to her forehead and felt blood trickling from her scar. Her headache was worse and, despite the heat, she shivered. She needed to talk to Sirius about this.

Chapter 36: Year Four, Chapter Two

Chapter Text

Holly still felt the pain in her scar as the sun crested the horizon, though the bleeding had stopped. She quickly showered, got dressed, and packed her things up to try and distract herself from worrying. She knew that she couldn’t get a message to Sirius before he arrived, absent just trying to go to him directly. She, for once, carefully and neatly packed her things in her trunk. Hermione would be proud.

She ate her piece of grapefruit nervously that morning, making sure to keep her wand in her pocket at all times. She knew that Voldemort wasn’t going to burst into the Dursleys’ living room, but the dream had rattled her. That man’s eyes... she shivered, despite the summer heat.

Holly was snapped out of her panic by the sound of a very loud motorcycle outside. As Privet Drive, and really Little Whinging as a whole was not the sort of place one typically encountered a motorbike, Holly looked out the window. There, having somewhat haphazardly parked a large black motorcyle, was Sirius Black. Holly’s godfather was looking less gaunt than when she had last seen him, and she was so excited she ran out towards him.

“Holly!”

“Sirius!” she said, hugging him fiercely. “It’s good to see you. I think I’d have gone crazy if I had to spend any more time with them,” Holly continued.

“It’s good to see you too, Holly. Go get your stuff - I’ll just stand out here and embarrass your aunt,” Sirius said with a grin. The leather jacket he was wearing, and his general demeanour would certainly cause the legendary gossips that were the housewives of Privet Drive to go into overdrive.

Holly got her trunk down from her bedroom, along with Hedwig’s cage. She’d already let her owl out last night - Hedwig, Holly knew, was more than capable of finding Grimmauld place. Sirius put them into a compartment in the bike’s sidecar that seemed to be much larger on the inside than the outside.

“So are we really going to drive on this?” Holly asked.

“I’ve been waiting to drive this thing again for a decade,” Sirius said, and Holly got into the sidecar excitedly. Sirius revved the engine, and then Holly felt a very strange sensation. It was as if someone had cracked an egg on her head, and as she looked around she saw in amazement that she and the bike seemed to have become almost transparent.

“What is this?” Holly asked.

“Disillusionment charm,” Sirius said with a grin, and then with one last roar of the engine, the motorcycle took off into the sky. It was great fun, and Holly spent much of the trip flying alongside the motorbike in the air as a raven. It was almost enough to make her forget her dream, as she soared across London,
She transformed back for the last stretch of the journey, and after they landed and came to a stop, she turned to Sirius.

“That was amazing!” she said.

“I thought you’d like it. Happy birthday, Holly,” he said, and hugged her.

They had landed in an alley just off a row of large stone townhouses, all of them stately and imposing. Sirius got her stuff from the enchanted compartment, made the motorcycle invisible again, and led Holly around to the street. It was still early in the morning, and there was no one else around. A sign on the corner of the street read ‘Grimmauld Place’. A small plaque underneath caught Holly’s eye, and she read it quickly.

Due to a bureaucratic mistake at the end of the 17th Century, Grimmauld Place has a number 11 and a number 13, but no number twelve. Locals have resisted all efforts to renumber houses, and so the street’s odd quirk of numbering remains.

Sirius saw what she was reading, and chuckled.

“Of course, the end of the seventeenth century is also when the statue of secrecy was passed. My dear old ancestors performed a stupendous number of memory charms to get everyone to buy the mistake story,” Sirius said and gestured towards one of the houses. There, looking a little more faded than its neighbours, was Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. It had a high stone fence, topped with iron spikes that looked lethally sharp. Small runes glowed an angry red in lines across the fence, and there was a great iron gate.

“So this is where you lived as a kid?” Holly asked.

“Remus and I have cleaned out most of the tacky decor and dark artifacts, but yes,” Sirius said, tapping his wand against the gate. It swung open, and the runes on the fence calmed down to soft blue light. Holly walked through the open gate, and she felt a strange sensation. “Crossing the wardline always did give me a little shiver. Paranoid old bastards, the Blacks. But at least all those wards will be good for something now you’re staying here,” Sirius said, after seeing Holly’s reaction.

“I get the impression you liked them about as much as I like the Dursleys,” Holly said, as they walked up to the large wooden door - which was, of course, painted black.

“Worse. They weren’t Death Eaters, but my parents thought Voldemort had the right idea - and the less said about most of my cousins, the better,” Sirius said and opened the door. Holly thought at once that if this was Grimmauld Place after Sirius and Remus had spent a month taking out all the tacky decor, the Blacks must have been the epitome of pureblood pretentiousness.

“I guess the fact that you’re living here with your werewolf boyfriend is pretty good revenge, though,” Holly said.

“Oh, my mother’s portrait has words to say about that. If people open the curtains, she starts screeching about... well, I’m sure you can imagine,” Sirius said, laughing as he led Holly through a tour of the house.

“Happy birthday, Holly,” Remus said as they entered the kitchen. He had some toast and rather rubbery looking eggs on a plate, and Holly sighed. She could see a large number of muggle takeaway food boxes too.

“It’s good to see you, Remus... maybe I should handle the food from now on,” Holly said.

“From what Molly Weasley told me, you’d probably be better than either of us at it. My parent’s old house-elf was still around when we got here, but we’ve always hated each other. I set him free the minute I got here - from what I heard, he managed to get my dear cousin Narcissa Malfoy to take him in,” Sirius said.

“Narcissa Malfoy is your cousin?” Holly asked.

“Oh, you haven’t heard of the Black sisters? They were infamous enough in their day. Bellatrix is in Azkaban for being a Death Eater, Narcissa married Lucius Malfoy, and Andromeda turned out to be a perfectly nice lady,” Sirius explained. “Anyway, let me show you the rest of the house. People are coming round at noon for your birthday party, so you have plenty of time to do that odd teenage girl thing and spend three hours getting dressed,” he continued. Holly rolled her eyes at him.

Number Twelve Grimmauld Place had everything from a library to a proper duelling room in its vast warren of wallpapered corridors. It was surely much larger on the inside than the outside, a triumph of expansion charms. Many of the rooms had clashing styles, clearly having been added on as the owners desired it. Sirius pointed out were things he’d removed had been, like the collection of House Elf heads. One room had a huge tapestry with the names of all the various Blacks on it, and Holly could see that work had clearly been done it recently.

“And this is your bedroom,” Sirius said, opening the door to show Holly the room. It was large, and done mostly in red and gold. There was a huge four-poster bed, a desk that Holly thought must have belonged to someone important once, and a large window that looked out onto the street. There were cupboards and dressers, a place for her to put her broom, and even a relatively modern-looking radio sitting next to what was clearly a wizard wireless. It struck Holly then that she had somewhere she could leave things behind - that she no longer needed to live out of her trunk.

“This - this is great, Sirius,” Holly said and hugged him.

“This used to be my room - I figured you’d like the window. Remus made me take down all the dirty posters, though,” Sirius said, and Holly laughed. “I’ll let you get your stuff put away - me and Remus’s room is down that hall,” Sirius said, and then closed the door behind him.

She put her things away, smiling at the Basilisk-skin coat that Hagrid had given her last year. The resizing runes (a simple sizing charm wouldn’t take to the magic-resistant basilisk skin) had kept it the right size for her. She found a good hiding place for her little black notebook and made sure it was hidden from anyone who might look for it.

Then she closed the curtains and got ready for her birthday party. She didn’t take all that long, but drying her hair was starting to take longer. She wondered idly if there were hair drying charms. Maybe Parvarti or Lavender would know, she thought.

Sirius had evidently invited all her friends and then some more for her birthday party. All the Weasleys in the country came, and Molly Weasley stepped out of the fireplace holding a very large cake. Hermione was there, of course, but unlike all the other guests she’d been dropped of by her parents in a car. Hagrid had to stoop to get through the fireplace. Neville Longbottom came as well as Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown (It turned out that there were several types of hair-drying charms). Even Luna Lovegood came, and Holly smiled as she saw her step out of the living room fireplace. She was an odd one, but Holly thought Luna was quite nice and often a lot of fun.

She managed not to cry this time, but Holly’s fourteenth birthday was just as good as her thirteenth. Not only was there Mrs Weasley’s huge cake but Holly and Sirius got to delight in introducing their mostly wizard-raised guests to pizza. Even Hermione found it amusing, but it soon won over all those present.

Sirius, Remus, Hagrid, and Mr and Mrs Weasley mostly stayed in the living room, whilst Holly and her friends had the run of the house. Fred and George continued their streak of second secret gifts, though this one wasn’t as interesting as the Marauder’s Map - just a bottle of firewhiskey that Holly dutifully hid.

After everyone had gone home, Holly sat in the kitchen with Sirius and Remus. Everyone had no real desire to do anything else that day, but Holly knew she had to tell them about her dream.

“Last night I had, um, I guess you could call it a dream. But I think it was real? Let me start again...” Holly began, and she explained what she had seen in the dream. She couldn’t identify anyone other than Voldemort, but both Sirius’s and Remus’s eyes narrowed at the Death Eater’s story as Holly retold it.

“It couldn’t be...” Remus said slowly.

“I saw them carry his body away myself, Remus. Holly, what did he look like again?” Sirius asked.

“He had black hair, tall - he’d be handsome if he didn’t have this look to him...” she said, trailing off at the end. She didn’t really know how to describe it.

“The bastard really did it,” Sirius said, his voice more than a whisper.

“It could be someone else, Sirius,” Remus said.

“No... I’ll remember those eys until the day I die. He seemed so... broken in Azkaban I even felt a little sorry for him despite what he did. I guess the joke’s on me,” Sirius said.

“Who do you think he is?” Holly asked, confused.

“Barty Crouch... Junior,” Sirius said, pausing for a moment before adding the ‘Junior’.

“You mean the same Barty Crouch that sent you to Azkaban without a trial had a Death Eater for a son?” Holly said.

“The very same. I think we need to tell Dumbledore about his - I’ll go write to him,” Sirius said. Dumbledore came to Grimmauld Place that evening, and he had a strange look in his eyes as Holly finished telling him about her dream.

“I think we must start on at least Occlumency before the school year. Sirius, Remus - I trust the two of you can handle teaching Holly the basics?” Dumbledore said. They nodded.

“What’s Occlumency?” Holly asked.

“The art of shielding one’s mind against intrusion. I do not think that Voldemort can reverse your connection yet, but if he grows stronger...” Dumbledore said.

“It could be bad. He’d be able to, what, read my mind?”

“Or use you to influence the minds of others. It is lucky we discovered this connection whilst he was still so weak - and a pity it should cast a pall over today. Happy Birthday, by the way, Holly,” Dumbledore said, smiling at her.

“Thanks, Professor,” Holly said.

“Well, we’re all too full of cake to do it today, but tomorrow we’re starting you on Occlumency... and I think we should put that duelling room my granduncle installed to some use,” Sirius said, after Dumbledore had gone. Holly grinned - if Sirius was anywhere near as good as Remus, she’d learn a lot from both of them.

Chapter 37: Year Four, Chapter Three

Chapter Text

“Well, you’re a hell of a lot better than we were at your age, Holly,” Sirius said, lowering his wand. Both of them were out of breath, and Holly sat down against the side of the lowered duelling platform. The room consisted of a circular wooden duelling platform sunk into the floor, and wards to protect any onlookers sitting on the wooden benches that lined the walls. Remus had been observing Holly and Sirius duel, and he stood as he saw that their duel had come to an end.

“There are areas you could improve on, but I agree with Sirius - I’ve never seen a fourteen-year-old duel like that. That said, ‘for your age’ doesn’t count for much in the real world,” Lupin said.

“I think I did pretty well against the - what, two adult wizards I’ve fought seriously,” Holly said, wiping the sweat from her brow. She and Sirius had been at it for some time, and her body still ached slightly from being stunned several times.

“Lockhart and Pe - and the Rat aren’t exactly the greatest duellists around. I’ll grant you, both of them were fairly nasty, but almost all the actual Death Eaters were better than them,” Sirius said.

“Actual Death Eaters?” Holly asked, intrigued.

“Most people refer to all of Voldemort’s wizarding followers as Death Eaters, but only a select few actually wore the robes and skull mask. The sort of garden variety dark wizards he attracted weren’t given that honour,” Remus explained.

“Right. He had hundreds of followers willing to fight, but only a few dozen actually wore the skull masks. Most of them are in Azkaban, but a few managed to slip the net by claiming to have been imperiused - like Lucius Malfoy,” Sirius said.

“I get it... so what do I need to do?” Holly asked, holding her hands up.

“You’ve got a strong basis in terms of spell knowledge - although part of me would like not to know how you know so many curses. Like a lot of powerful young wizards and witches, you’ve got the firepower but not the speed and accuracy. Non-verbal spellcasting would be good, but it’s only taught at NEWT level for a reason... and your shield charms could still use some work,” Remus said.

“And we happen to know a few tricks that might come in handy,” Sirius said, and Holly grinned. “But that’s for tomorrow - now that you’re all exhausted, it’s time to learn Oclumency,” Sirius continued, and Holly’s face fell.

“That was a dirty trick,” she said.

“Would you expect anything else from a Marauder?” Sirius said. Holly just sighed, and Remus sat down opposite her.

“Occlumency has many forms and methods, from selective suppression to direct confrontation, but we’re going to start with the basics today. At its core, Occlumency is about controlling your mind to frustrate someone attempting to control or read it. The simplest method is to suppress all thought and emotion - to offer the Legellimens nothing to see. I’m afraid the only real way to learn is experience,” Remus said, and Holly suddenly felt uneasy.

“You mean you’re going to read my mind?” Holly said. She had plenty of things she didn’t want Remus seeing - from the embarrassing to the illicit.

“I am, but I will be looking for a specific memory - Sirius is going to whisper a number to you, and I will attempt to find it. Are you comfortable with that?” Remus asked.

“I - I guess? Yeah, it’s fine,” Holly said, questioningly. Sirius whispered the number - twenty-three - into her ear.

“Legelimens,” Remus said softly, and Holly tried to empty her mind of everything. It was, she thought, a dismal failure. Things kept bubbling up, everything from her dysphoria to her secret notebook to the number - and then it was over. She hadn’t realised it had begun, but when Remus cut the spell off she felt it sharply.

“That’s... that’s harder than it sounds,” Holly said.

“Unfortunately, this really is the best way to learn. Ready to try again?” Remus asked.

“I’m ready,” Holly said. Her voice was steadier, and she tried once more to empty her mind.

They spent only an hour or two on such things a day, but Remus and Sirius were a wealth of knowledge. Unlike Defence class, neither of them held back when they taught holly - at least, not any more than they would against each other for safety reasons. That meant that she lost a lot, often ending up stunned or disarmed or otherwise disabled, but she got better quickly. She cast her spells faster and was better able to hit her target when spells were flying at her. Most wizards, Remus informed her, could hit a practice dummy but not a dark wizard.

Holly managed a weakened nonverbal shield charm and a nonverbal disarming charm. Her nonverbal stunning spells were more like lovetaps than the knockout punches of her verbal stunning spells, but even that was tremendous progress. She learnt how to use hexes and jinxes to distract her opponents, and how to make herself a harder target to hit. Sirius seemed to enjoy that lesson the most, as it consisted of firing jinxes at her until she got the hang of dodging.

Her Occlumency lessons were going less well, but she was making progress. She’d tried a few of the more advanced methods, but she was still working on mastering the basic one of clearing her mind. It was a tricky thing to manage, and Holly still couldn’t entirely prevent things she wanted to hide from coming right in to fill any empty spaces she made.

Aside from learning, Holly and Sirius spent a large amount of time flying after Sirius apparated them both to some remote location. Often they would be on brooms and play wild one-a-side quidditch, but sometimes Holly would take on her raven form and Sirius would use his flying motorcycle.

She lasted two weeks before she visited the library under the cover of her cloak. She wasn’t sure why she did it in the dead of night, invisible, but she felt some wrongness about it. Sirius surely wouldn’t have left anything too bad out for her to find, but she still woke up in the middle of the night with the dreams. She still felt her hands shake, sometimes.

Holly remembered how every nerve in her body had burnt under Riddle’s curse.

She found what she had been trying to pretend she wasn’t looking for quickly. Salazar Slytherin’s signature lightning curse, incanted in parseltongue. The slim book on famous curses didn’t have the words or the wand motion, but Holly knew them. She could remember casting it more times than she could count, and the words seemed to come to her mind unbidden whenever she felt afraid. She knew that it required a desire to kill, to inflict pain - that the wounds caused by it would never heal.

Holly shivered despite the temperature charms as she felt that sensation touch her mind just barely. The briefest brush from whatever power Voldemort had left behind, whispering to her. She heard the other spells it whispered to her, that she would be safe if only she could stop those who would hurt her. If only she could kill them. It would only take two words, she knew.

She closed the book and returned to her room. Holly got back into bed and cried until her hands stopped shaking, and until she could no longer hear the whispers.

The next morning, two owls arrived at the kitchen window as Holly blearily made breakfast. Remus could be trusted not to burn water, but toast was another matter - and Sirius had spent the past twelve years in Azkaban. If she wanted something decent to eat for breakfast, she was going to have to make it. She didn’t handle all the food, but most of what Holly didn’t make was muggle takeaway.

One of the owls was a large, regal bird with a letter bearing an official ministry seal. The other Holly recognised as Errol, the Weasley family owl. She took both letters, tore a slice of bacon in half, and gave one half to each owl. The ministry owl hooted imperiously and then left right away. Errol seemed to need some time to recover, so Holly gave him a little bowl of water to drink out of.

She finished breakfast and brought the two letters with her, giving Errol a little wave as he left. The one from the ministry was addressed to Sirius, so she handed it to him along with breakfast.

“And what does old Ludo Bagman want with me? How’d he end up as some Ministry higher-up?” Sirius asked.

“Old Karl Bagman had plenty of friends at the Ministry - more than enough to get someone like Ludo Bagman a spot in Magical Games and Sports,” Remus said.

”Well, he’s head of the whole department, now. Seems he’s sent two tickets for me and Holly to go watch the World Cup final in the Minister’s box... no mention of you, of course,” Sirius said.

“I’m sure the two of you really would enjoy it more than me,” Remus said, but Holly saw the slightly pained expression on his face as she read through Ron’s letter. Gears started to turn in her mind. Ron had sent a letter explaining that his Dad had managed to get a number of seats in the Minster’s box for the final, and inviting Holly to come with them and Hermione.

“Apparently Mr Weasley managed to get a number of tickets to the Minister’s Box for the final and wanted to know if I’d like to come... let me write to them,” Holly said with a grin.

“Oh now that would be good,” Sirius said, laughing. Remus seemed resigned to it, but also happy.

“I don’t want to be Arthur in trouble at the Ministry...” Remus said.

“So you can go with me. Holly will probably want to sit with her friends anyway, right?” Sirius asked.

“Sounds good to me. You two can enjoy yourselves without me, I’m sure,” she said. Sirius poked his tongue out at her.

The next day Sirius dropped Holly off at the Burrow, both so she could see her friends and because she was technically attending with the Weasleys and not with Sirius. Holly felt slightly queasy from the side-along apparition.

“You behave yourself now,” Sirius said, struggling to keep a straight face.

“I’d have thought you’d ask me to misbehave,” Holly said, swaying a little.

“Well, I know you’re going to do that anyway. Thought I’d try out being responsible for a laugh,” Sirius said and disappeared with a crack.

“Oi, it’s Holly!” Ron said as he leaned out of his window to see who had arrived. She waved to him.

“Oh, hello dear. Been enjoying your time with your godfather?” Mrs Weasly said as she opened the door and beckoned Holly inside.
“It’s been great. Loads better than the Dursleys,” Holly said.

“Good to hear. Excited for the match - oh, Charlie, you haven’t met Holly before have you?”

“Nice to meet you, Charlie Weasley,” the red-haired man playing wizard’s chess against Bill said, standing to offer Holly his hand. She shook it, surprised at the number of scars she could feel.

“Holly Potter. How’re the dragons?” Holly asked. She and Ron had enlisted Charlie’s help to smuggle a baby dragon Hagrid had started to raise to a sanctuary in Holly’s first year. Dragons were illegal to keep as pets, or outside of designated reserve at all.

“They only try and bite occasionally,” Charlie said with a grin. Bill Weasley, who Holly had met once before, was still just as good looking and cool as ever. He gave her a friendly wave as Charlie sat back down.

“You’re up with Ginny and Hermione, dear,” Mrs Weasley said. Holly passed Fred and George on the stairs and opened Ginny’s door. She and Hermione were taking out a mattress to put on the floor, and they both turned to Holly.

“Holly!” Ginny said, rushing over to hug her. Hermione smiled but having been left holding the mattress by herself she had to put it down before she could greet Holly.

“Hey, Ginny. Been having a good summer?” she asked.

“It’s been great having Bill and Charlie back - and I’ve been so excited to see the World Cup final,” Ginny said.

“It’s nice to see you, Holly. I hope you haven’t been running too wild with Sirius,” Hermione said.

“Remus mostly keeps him in line... when he doesn’t think it’s funny,” Holly says. “It’s been great, though. Being able to cast magic over the holidays is awesome,” Holly said.

“Wow, did you get some special exemption from the Minister or something?” Ginny asked.

“You know the Ministry can’t track you if you live with an adult witch or wizard, right?” Holly asked.

“That’s... Mum’s been lying to us! Mind you, I shudder to think about living in the same house as the twins when they can use magic at home,” Ginny said.

“Really? That’s very unfair on those of us who live in the muggle world,” Hermione said.

“I wouldn’t put it past the Ministry to make it work like that on purpose,” Holly said.

“No, I wouldn’t either,” Hermione said sadly.

“Who do you reckon is gonna win the final, Ginny?” Holly asked as she sat down.

“Well, you’ve gotta consider Krum...” Ginny said, and the two of them began to talk about the upcoming Quidditch match.

Chapter 38: Year Four, Chapter Four

Chapter Text

“And if I hear from your father about you two hawking these Wizard Wheezes at the Cup...” Mrs Weasley told Fred and George, her voice stern. Holly felt a little awkward at being there for that, and she caught Hermione’s gaze - who seemed to feel similarly. Everybody was bleary-eyed and tired, having woken up well before the sun had come up.

“Yes, mum,” the Twins said in unison, as Mr Weasley came downstairs.

“Well, Holly, Hermione - what do you think? We’re supposed to go incognito...” Mr Weasley said, gesturing to his outfit. His golfing sweater and old jeans were definitely far above most wizards ideas of muggle fashion.

“Excellent, Mr Weasley,” Holly said. The rest of the Weasleys had managed mostly fine at dressing like muggles, although Ginny had had to borrow some clothes from Holly. Hermione, to both Holly and Ginny’s frustration, was significantly taller than them now. Holly had grown a fair bit herself, but she was still short for her age.

“Good, good. Everyone ready?” Mr Weasley said.

“Where are Bill and Charlie and Percy?” Ron asked.

“They’re apparating, so they can have a bit of a lie-in. Now, off you go - you’ve got a fair walk ahead of you! Holly dear, do tell Sirius I said hello,” Mrs Weasley said, as she ushered them all out of the Burrow.

“I read that a hundred thousand wizards will be watching the cup in the stadium. How are you keeping any muggles from noticing?” Hermione asked as they walked away from the Burrow.

“It’s enormously complicated, Hermione. Firstly we haven’t a magical site large enough to house all of them, so we’ve had to resort to finding a nice bit of deserted moor. Then we have the problem of transport...” Mr Weasley began, and he explained all about how arrivals were being staggered by their seat price.

“But surely not everyone can take muggle transport or apparate? How are we getting there, for starters?” Hermione asked.

“Portkey. The nearest ley-line is a bit of a walk, but if I tried to side-along all of you we’d all end up splinched across half of England,” Mr Weasley said, and they all shuddered. Holly had seen some very graphic images of people who had splinched themselves during a lecture on why they were not to try to apparate without proper training.

“Ley-line? I thought portkeys let you leave from anywhere?” Holly asked as they walked through the darkened streets of Ottery St. Catchpole and up the slope towards Stoatshead Hill.

“Oh, no. Portkeys allow travel along ley-lines, and that’s it. You see - oh, hello Amos!” Mr Weasley said, as two figures stepped out of the pre-dawn darkness. One was a portly middle-aged man, with greying brown hair and a scrabbly beard. The other was Cedric Diggory, an extremely handsome boy of around seventeen. Holly had narrowly beaten him to win the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup last year, and she smiled as she saw him. So did Hermione and Ginny. Ron scowled.

“Good to see you Arthur, good to see you. This must be your kids - but who are the extra girls?” Amos Diggory asked.

“That’s Holly Potter and Hermione Granger-” Mr Weasley began, only for Mr Diggory to cut him off.

“My word, is it really? An absolute pleasure to meet you, Mr - I mean Miss Potter. Cedric has told me quite a bit about you, and of course, I’ve read about you in the papers. I told Cedric that nearly beating you in that final... that’s a story for the grandkids!” Mr Diggory said, offering his hand to Holly. She shook it and winced at Mr Diggory’s tight grip.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr Diggory. Hi, Cedric,” Holly said, a little awkwardly.

“Good to see you, Holly. Excited to watch the Cup?” Cedric asked as they all climbed the hill. Holly was glad that Cedric couldn’t see her blush in the darkness.

“It sounds like it’ll be a great match. The Irish are in top form, of course, but Krum...” Holly said, and Cedric nodded. Both of them were seekers, and Holly had no doubt that if she asked him who the best seeker alive was, Cedric would answer Viktor Krum. The fact that he was Cedric’s age merely made it more impressive.

As they crested the hill, the first rays of pre-dawn light could be seen on the horizon. The wind blew softly across Stoatshead Hill, and Holly could feel the magic in the air and in the earth. It was a little like being at Hogwarts, but less so.

On the very top of the hill sat an old boot on a stump. It looked tattered and smelly to Holly, which her nose soon confirmed.

“That’s the portkey?” Holly asked.

“Can’t make it too obviously magical or even the muggles might figure out what’s going on,” Mr Diggory said. Mr Weasley frowned slightly. Cedric looked a little embarrassed.

“Well, anyway, let’s all touch the portkey. Just a finger will do, Fred,” Mr Weasley said. Fred had touched it with his foot, to stifled laughs from all of the children.

“Anyone else coming, Dad?” Cedric asked.
“The Lovegoods have been there for weeks, and the Fawleys couldn’t get tickets. Have I forgotten anyone, Arthur? I can never remember all the half-bloods running around,” Mr Diggory said.

“No, that’s all of-” Mr Weasley said, only to be cut off as the Portkey activated. Holly felt like she had been dunked into boiling water, and then everything became a whirl of colours and motion. Her finger felt glued to the boot, the only solid object in the sea of swirling colour. She was being whipped around and around, and then Holly felt herself slam into the ground.

“Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill,” called out a bored voice, as Holly got to her feet. Everyone but Mr Weasley, Mr Diggory, and Cedric had fallen flat on their face. A pimply-faced advisor, who looked about sixteen, was standing just in front of them. He was dressed in a cheap suit that didn’t fit him, with a red sash across his front that read ‘MLEP: Traffic Division’. An older man, with barely any of his wispy grey hair left, sat next to him with a golden stopwatch. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a film about William Wallace, kilt and all.

“Now that’s a way to travel. How was that, kids?” Mr Weasley asked, grinning.

“I think I’d have rather ridden here,” Fred said.

“What’s five hundred miles on a broom compared to that,” George said.

“Oh, you’ll get used to it. Of course, some are better suited to handling it than others...” Mr Diggory said.

“Morning, Basil,” Mr Weasley said to the older, kilt-wearing wizard with the stopwatch.

“Morning, Arthur. You’d best get out of the way right quick - we’ve got a huge party from the Black Forrest coming in at five fifteen, and you know how they are. All those ‘Vons’ and their two dozens House Elves... ah, here we are. Quarter mile that way, first field you come to - talk to a Mr Roberts. The second field for you, Amos,” Basil said.

“Thanks, Basil,” Mr Weasley said, and they all headed off across the deserted moor. The mist was thick, and Holly put her hand into the pocket of her coat. She felt her wand, ever so slightly warm, and that was enough reassurance.

“So, Cedric, how has your summer been?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, not too bad. We went to Italy for a bit, watched a few of the earlier World Cup matches... how about you, Hermione?” Cedric answered. Holly felt a flash of jealousy run through her, a sudden but strong desire for Cedric to be talking to her instead of Hermione. It wasn’t like Hermione was flirting with him - she was just being polite, Holly knew, but she felt it all the same.

She stewed in her thoughts as they walked through the mist, questions consuming her. Did she like Cedric in a romantic sense? She felt unsure if she liked girls, or boys, or both; a heady sort of mix that refused to settle down. She knew she had been crushed when she’d learnt Penny had a girlfriend, and that she thought Cho Chang was very pretty... yet she was jealous when Cedric talked to Hermione. Both, then, but it was all very confusing.

As she’d been thinking, a small stone cottage had emerged from the mist. In the distance, as Holly looked up, she could see a sea of tents faintly through the mist. They seemed to sway slightly in the breeze, and they were of a hundred bizarre styles. One seemed to be a narrow tower five stories tall, and Holly wondered how that could be useful or safe.

“I think this is where we part ways, Amos. It was good to see you and Cedric,” Mr Weasley said.

“Good to see you too, Arthur,” Mr Diggory said.

“See you all at Hogwarts,” Cedric said, waving as he walked into the mist.

“Are those sighs of disappointment I hear from the ladies?” Fred asked.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be just as handsome at Hogwarts,” George said. Holly blushed, and she was sure Ginny and Hermione did so too.

“Knock it off, you twits. As if you don’t stare longingly at Angelina every time she walks in your direction - or away from you!” Ginny said.

“You wound us, sister. Why, we would never give in to such base impulses,” George said.

“Morning. Blimey, are you that Holly Potter lass my daughter keeps talking about?” a man said, as he walked out of the cottage. He looked like he was muggle-born, or maybe just a muggle because his clothes looked perfectly normal.

“That’s me,” Holly said.

“When those wizards asked to use my campsite - me having a witch for a daughter and all - I wasn’t expecting quite so many illustrious folks! Good sport, though, Quidditch. Not as good as football, though... anyway, you’ll be wanting your map. You’re in this spot right here,” he said, handing a paper map to Mr Weasley.

“Thank you, Mr...”

“Oh, that’s damn impolite of me. Josh Roberts,” He said, shaking Mr Weasley’s hand.

“Arthur Weasley. I was, ah, under the impression that these were muggle campgrounds?” Mr Weasley asked.
“Oh, they are! All the other poor blokes running them keep getting their minds fiddled with. Damn fool thing to do, but that’s Government for you eh? Seems like the same idiots in London if you’ve got a wand or not. Will you need any help paying in muggle money - can’t take galleons, drachma, or talents I’m afraid,” Mr Roberts said. Mr Weasley looked a little awkward, but Holly and Hermione helped him work out the muggle money and then they were on their way.

Holly thought it was lucky that the manager of campground one knew about magic because none of the tents she saw could ever have been believable as muggle tents. Nor could the outfits! She passed a group of Americans dressed in jean shorts, dinner jackets, and bow ties who stopped to get into an argument with a woman dressed in a combination of chainmail and an aviator’s outfit from the nineteen twenties. Said woman was leading her winged horse through the streets of the tent city, and it had apparently trodden on something.

“Well I can see that some of us are taking the law more seriously than others. It seems we really can’t help but show off when we get together,” Mr Weasley muttered. Some of the tents could almost have passed for muggle tents, but invariably they had a weather vane or a tower, or in one case battlements.

They seemed to walk through the entire campground before they came to an empty plot with a wooden sign staked into it that read, in hand-written letters, ‘WEEZLY’. Across from them was another empty plot that read ‘BLACK’.

“We putting the tents up muggle-style, dad?” Ron asked.

“Exactly Ron, exactly. We’re not supposed to be using magic here, technically. Do you think you could help us work this out Holly, Hermione?” Mr Weasley said, taking off his backpack. Holly had, of course, never been camping but she and Hermione were able to help Mr Weasley get the two one-man tents set up fairly rapidly. They looked positively pedestrian compared to the gaudy tents around them, although comically small compared to the number of people standing around them.

“Alright, girls - that’s your tent, but this one has the kitchen and living room so feel free to come in after you get settled,” Mr Weasley said. Holly blinked. She knew that the tents were magically expanded, but she’d expected the inside to just be a bigger tent. She headed into the girl’s tent and was amazed to find a room with a floor, carpet, and a fireplace. There were a pair of comfortable-looking bunk beds, and plenty of space for all three of them to put their backpacks down.

“Woah,” Holly said.

“Dad got these cheap second hand when we went to Egypt, but they’re still pretty great,” Ginny said, pausing for a moment after that. Then she got an evil look and dashed towards one of the bunk beds. “Top bunks mine!” she shouted. Hermione turned to look at Holly, but she had already claimed the other top bunk.

“Oh, very mature,” Hermione said.

Holly stuck out her tongue at her.

Chapter 39: Year Four, Chapter Five

Chapter Text

The other tent was larger than the girls’ tent, and it looked to Holly like someone had put a three-room apartment inside of a very large tent. The walls were still made from fabric, but there was everything from a fully functioning kitchen to a bathroom complete with a shower.

“How’s the tent, girls?” Mr Weasley asked.

“It’s fine, Mr Weasley. I never knew wizards made tents like these,” Holly said. It was fairly cramped with all the people jammed into it, but for one or two people it would have been positively luxurious.

“Well, this is something of a deluxe model... if a little out of date. Picked it up on the cheap from a friend at the office who didn’t use it anymore,” Mr Weasley said. Fred and George were busy checking on things in their backpacks, which Holly assumed weren’t just spare clothes judging by the twins’ furtive expressions.

“Do some Wizards just live in tents like these?” Hermione asked.

“It’s not uncommon among people who have to travel long distances for their work and the like, though not as much as it used to be,” Mr Weasley said, as he picked up a dusty kettle. “We’ll be needing some water...” he continued.

“There’s a tap marked on the map the guy at the entrance gave us,” Ron said from the kitchen.

“Excellent. We’re going to give camp cooking muggle-style a try, so why don’t you four go fetch some water?” Mr Weasley asked.

“Need us to go get anything, Dad?” Fred asked.

“Oh I think I’ll need you two to help start the fire,” Mr Weasley said, innocently.

“Foiled again, Fred,” George said.

Holly, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione headed out of the tent clutching kettles and saucepans. The sun had fully risen by now and the mist had begun to lift, so Holly could see the full size of the tent city they found themselves in. She couldn’t help but think it was very lucky that wizard tents had their own toilets because there seemed to be far more people at the campground than it had ever been intended to house.

Children ran around playing, much younger than any magical children Holly had ever seen. She saw everything from toy wands and broomsticks (that seemed to work, if only in a very reduced and safe manner) to animated soft toys. Ministry officials walked through the tents desperately trying to keep order, but it was clear that the excitement was running far too high for all the small children to convincingly pose as muggles.

“I’ve never even heard of so many wizards in one place before... I think this might be the largest magical settlement in the world,” Holly said as they walked through the tent city.

“It’s not the largest, but it’s close,” Hermione said.

“It’s bloody... really bloody green,” Ron said after he turned a corner mid-sentence. Almost instantly, every tent around them seemed to covered in green decorations. Some were so thick with shamrocks that they looked like small hills rising out of the grass, while others seemed to have been stitched from disused Irish Quidditch robes.

“I think we’ve found the Ireland fans,” Ginny said.

“Nah, I reckon we’ve found the Bulgarians,” Holly said.

“Holly, Ginny, Ron, Hermione!” a familiar voice cried out, and as one they turned to see their fellow Gryffindor Seamus Finnegan. He was fully decked out in almost neon-green robes, his face already painted. Dean Thomas, another of Holly’s classmates from Gryffindor, was also standing outside the same tent as Seamus. Dean was less green, with only a moderately bright green jumper, and standing next to him was someone Holly recognised with a start.

“Jane?” Holly said, surprised to see Dean Thomas’s muggle sister here.

“Holly?” Jane Thomas said, looking just as surprised as Holly.

“How on earth do you two know each other?” Dean asked.

“Oh, you know that, um, friend from school I introduced you to? Holly’s friends with her,” Jane said, blushing a little. Holly got the message.

“What are the chances, hey Holly? This place is mad, though. I think I saw some guy fly over us on a winged horse a few minutes ago,” Dean said. Seamus, Ron, and Ginny were having an animated conversation about the upcoming match

“It’s something, alright. How’s Penny?” Holly asked Jane.

“Oh, she’s fine. Her mum’s being... well, like Penny’s mum always is,” Jane said.

“Who do you reckon will win, Holly?” Seamus asked her. Everyone seemed to turn and stare at Holly, even Seamus’s mum. She considered her response carefully. From what she knew about the two teams, Ireland had a better overall team but Krum was significantly better than the Irish seeker.

“I think that if it lasts longer than an hour, then Ireland has it. If the Snitch gets spotted early, though...” Holly said.
“Come on Holly, Lynch isn’t that bad,” Seamus said.

“He’s good. But not as good as Krum... honestly, Lynch is the weakest part of the Irish team,” Holly said.

After some more talk, and giving Seamus’s mum assurances that they would be supporting Ireland, Holly and her friends wandered deeper into the tent city. They walked through what had to be a Bulgarian section, which was covered in moving posters of Viktor Krum. Holly couldn’t understand the song that was being sung, but it was very loud and only getting louder.

She had heard a hundred different languages as she walked through the tents, with witches and wizards seemingly coming from all over the world to this misty moor to watch the World Cup. There were student groups from a dozen different schools just in this campground alone, including a huge delegation from an Irish school with a truly gigantic shamrock covered tent that looked more like a grassy mountain than a hill.

She said hello to several more friends and acquaintances, including her old Quidditch captain Oliver Wood. He had apparently been picked as the Puddlemere United reserve keeper, and he told her that their current keeper was retiring next season. She shook hands with his parents, and then finally Holly arrived at the tap.

“Of course there’s a line,” Ron said.

“At least we got here early,” Hermione said.

They had to wait perhaps ten minutes to fill up their assortment of pots and kettles and spent most of that time watching all the strange attempts at looking like muggles their fellow attendees made. One particularly oddly dressed wizard wore a perfectly cut and tailored suit, except that it seemed to have been made from high-visibility material.

“Hey, Holly,” someone said from behind them in line, and Holly turned to see Cho Chang waving at her. She waved back, and from the clanking of her pot, she was glad it hadn’t had any water in it yet.

“Hey, Cho,” Holly said, but the line moved up and she lost sight of the pretty Ravenclaw seeker.

“Happy to see her, were you?” Ron asked.

“Shut it,” Holly said, blushing. Ginny rolled her eyes.

After that, they made their way back to the tents without much fuss. They ran into a few more friends and aqutiances along the way, and as they approached the Weasley’s tents Holly smiled. Across from them, in the plot marked ‘BLACK’, was a normal looking tent. Sirius and Remus sat outside it on folding camp chairs, both of them passing very convincingly as muggles. They both even looked fashionable, as far as Holly’s very limited understanding of men’s fashion went.

“Sirius!” she shouted. He waved at her lazily, clutching a bottle of Walderman’s Wizard-Brewed Ale in one hand. He was talking to Bill Weasley in a low voice, whilst Charlie and Percy were sitting by the Weasley’s tent.

“I see you lot took your sweet time,” George said.

“Your loss mates. Ol’ Ludo Bagman came by, taking bets. We’re gonna clean him out - and we discussed an exciting business opportunity,” Fred said.

“We ran into people - Holly nearly tripped over herself saying hello to Cho,” Ron said.

“She did not,” Ginny said, a little sharply.

“Ah, if you’ll hand the water over,” Mr Weasley said, breaking the moment of tension. Soon everyone had breakfast and some hot tea, and they spent a very pleasant afternoon simply lounging about talking to people who came by - Holly must have had her picture taken twenty times! She’d decided to support Ireland in the end, has had the Weasleys and Hermione.

They wandered through the market stalls that had been set up just beyond the campground, and Holly bought Ron, Hermione, and Ginny a pair of omnioculars each. The magical binoculars could zoom in, replay things in slow motion, and even follow the action of a Quidditch match automatically.

“It’s almost time - everyone ready to go?” Mr Wealsey asked. Holly darted into the girl’s tent and very quickly exchanged her ratty trainers and faded jeans with something nicer. She didn’t really care about impressing the type of people who would be in the top box, but she was sure a picture of her there would end up in the Dialy Prophet. She didn’t have anything really green except - she put her Basilisk-skin coat on, the forest-green scales a perfect colour for her chosen team.

Sirius and Remus went on a good fifteen minutes ahead of them, and then Mr Weasley led everyone else towards the stadium. The sense of excitement was palpable as Holly moved through the crowd, and she couldn’t help but gasp when she saw the sheer size of the stadium. It was taller than any muggle stadium Holly could remember, with a number of soaring towards going up even higher. The walls glowed a soft gold, and huge purple banners hung off the sides. Each bore a stylized Ministry ‘M’ in gold thread.

“Built especially for this match, you know. A capacity of one hundred thousand,” Percy said, sounding as proud as if he’d built it himself.

“Half the Ministry have been busy building it for the last six months. And the anti-muggle wards! Had to get the Unspeakables to handle that part,” Mr Weasley said.

“Unspeakables?” Holly asked.

“Ministry researchers, top-secret sort of stuff,” he explained.

“Oh, hello Arthur. Let me see those tickets... top box? You are a lucky one. All the way up, dears,” one of the MInistry attendants at the entrance to the stadium said

“No chance wizards have invented lifts this summer?” Hermione asked as she looked up at the long staircase up.

“Maybe we should have brought brooms,” Holly said as they all began to climb.

Sometime later, they all emerged into the top box. It was right behind one set of golden goal posts, the absolute prime position to sit. There was a thick purple carpet, and perhaps twenty gilded chairs sitting in two rows. All of them had little placards next to them denoting which party they belong to, and Holly saw Sirius and Remus some distance away from the Weasleys.

As she was looking at the chairs, Holly heard someone else come up the stairs. She turned, and her eyes widened ever so slightly. Minister Fudge was leading a pair of foreign wizards up the stairs, and with him were Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa Malfoy. All of them wore black and silver dress robes, and as Lucius saw the Weasleys, he sneered.

"By Merlin, how much gold did Potter spend on you, Weasley? Surely you didn't afford these seats yourself?" Lucius Malfoy said with a sneer. Mr Weasley looked angry, Fudge looked worried, and Holly felt a sudden desire to see Lucius Malfoy defenestrated from this height. She regretfully put that idea aside and turned to respond.

Chapter 40: Year Four, Chapter Six

Chapter Text

“Some of us don’t need to give out galleons to get others to like us, Lucius,” Mr Wealsey said, coldly.

“Or give out diaries,” Holly said, quietly. She looked Lucius Malfoy right in the eye and felt a deep sense of satisfaction as he refused to meet her gaze. Draco just looked confused, but Narcissa Malfoy looked unsettled by Holly’s words.

“My word, is that you Holly?” Fudge said. He looked slightly panicked that Mr Malfoy and Mr Weasley were getting into an argument in front of his guests.

“Oh, hello Minister. Who’s that with you?” Holly said and all trace of venom or fury was gone from her voice.

“This is the Bulgarian Minister for Magic, Minister Oblansk. Charming fellow, but I’m afraid he doesn’t speak much English,” Fudge said, as he gestured to a tall man standing next to him in deep velvet robes. He looked rather heavyset, and his long hair was almost entirely grey.

“Nice to meet you, Minister Oblansk,” Holly said. She shook his hand as her words were relayed by an interpreter.

“If there hadn’t been that damnable dragon-pox outbreak, the Irish Minister would have been here too. Lovely lady, I’d imagine the two of you would get on well. And of course, you know my guest Mr Lucius Malfoy and his family,” Fudge said.

“We’ve met,” Holly said.

“Do excuse Mr - oh, I’m sorry - Miss Potter’s frostiness towards my son, Minister. They are often rivals on the Hogwarts Quidditch fields, you know,” Lucius said.

“Ah, yes. Well, good to see you Holly, Arthur. The mascots are nearly out, so let’s take our seats shall we?” Fudge said, looking rather awkward.

One by one, the seats in the top box filled up until only the commentator’s seat with its attached microphone and array of special omniocculars was left. Each pair of omniocculars was set to follow a specific player, with little figurines of each taped on top of them.

Just before the mascots were ready to take to the field, Ludo Bagman charged into the top box. He was a huge man, broad-shouldered and still muscled below the extra layer of fat he’d gained after he’d stopped playing professional Quidditch. Despite his size, his face looked almost cherubic, with bright blue eyes and messy blonde hair.

“Just on time, Ludo,” Fudge said, and Bagman grinned at him.

“I’ve just been saying hello to the Bulgarian mascots - had to fight them off just to get up here in time!” Bagman said, grinning. Oblansk gave Bagman an odd look.

“Yes, well, let’s get the match started,” Fudge said, looking at his watch. Bagman took his seat, gave the antique-looking microphone a check, and smiled.

“Ladies and gentlemen … welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!” Bagman shouted into the microphone, and the crowd below roared. It was like nothing Holly had ever heard, a hundred thousand voices all cheering at once. There were other sounds too - flags that played a team’s national anthem when waved by the thousand, hundreds of large drums, and more still. A huge blackboard that had previously been displaying an ad for Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans changed to display the scores in a cloud of enchanted chalk dust.

“And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce … the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!” Bagman said, and Holly heard Sirius laugh in the row of seats behind her. The Malfoys seemed to tense up as one, and even Mr Weasley looked a little nervous.

“That’ll be the Veela,” Mr Weasley said, sounding a little nervous to Holly. What had the Bulgarians brought, she wondered? Were Veela some kind of fearsome beast - a subspecies of dragon, maybe?

Then about a hundred Veela danced out onto the pitch, and Holly found her questions answered. Veela were women, with hair like strands of precious metals and eyes like jewels. Their skin seemed to emit soft moonlight, and they moved with inhuman grace. Surely, they couldn’t be human? Nobody could look like... like that Holly thought.

Her objections melted away as she watched them dance. The Veela started to sing, and an unseen band played some kind of harmony of stringed instruments. Holly felt her mind start to fog as if nothing else existed save the Veela. She had to impress them, make them pay attention to -

And then the song stopped, and Holly felt her mind rush back. She was standing up, as were Fred and George. Ron was nearly over the barrier, though Mr Weasley was pulling him back. Draco Malfoy was halfway to the barrier himself, and Holly felt a flash of shame. Was this magic that only worked on boys, she wondered. Then she turned her gaze to her left, and she saw Ginny was standing up just like her. Hermione seemed unaffected by the Veela, and all of the adults seemed like they had been able to retain some sense.

Holly felt the shame that had been rushing to fill every inch of her fade at the sight of Ginny standing up. She still blushed as she sat back down, but more from the implications. She thought she understood who was affected by the Veela’s song now. Ginny had never said anything about it to her, but as she caught Holly’s eyes she blushed.

As she sat down, Holly saw that wards had been erected around the stands and that quite a few people had been saved from leaping off the stands by them. Perhaps it had just been the atmosphere of excitement that permeated the entire stadium, but the Veela had a powerful effect on much of the audience.

“Let’s all give the lovely ladies from Bulgaria a round of applause. Up next, let’s all light up our wands for the Irish National Team Mascots!” Bagman shouted, and what followed was no less amazing than the Veela. The Leprechauns that were the Irish team’s mascots flew around the stadium in an incredible display of formation flying, and then swooped down low over the crowd and started throwing out handfuls of gold coins.

Ron eagerly caught a half dozen of them, and even Holly picked one off the floor to look at it. It bore the face of a grinning Leprechaun on both sides, and whilst it felt like the right weight, something seemed off about it. Holly focused on the coin and noticed that it seemed to let through a little light. It was fake, then - which, she thought ruefully, certainly made more sense than the Irish team giving out a fortune in gold.

Then the game itself started, and Holly was transfixed. It was Quidditch at a level she had never seen before, utterly fluid and pushing even the firebolts both teams rode to their limits. The chasers screamed through the air at hundreds of miles per hour, weaving through the storm of bludgers and blocking attempts to score goal after goal.

When Bulgaria scored its first goal, after Ireland had scored three, the Veela danced again. Holly was ready this time, and applied the Occlumency techniques Sirius and Remus had taught her. She could still feel the song of the Veela touch her mind, but she was able to keep her wits about her. Ginny just put her fingers in her ears.

It was clear to Holly that Bulgaria had only got to the final on the back of their seeker. Their chasers were good, but they just weren’t up to the speed or fluidity of Ireland’s chaser squad. The Bulgarian chasers were too rigid, too dependant on formations and plays to keep up with the excellent teamwork of the Irish chasers. The beaters were more evenly matched, but again the Irish keeper was superior.

Only Krum was better than his Irish counterpart. Holly had heard how good he was, and his stats backed him up, but as she saw him fly she knew he was the best seeker in the world. His almost casual goading of Lynch, the Irish seeker, into a Wronski feint, the way Krum managed to put his all into helping his teams outmatched chasers whilst still keeping an eye out for the snitch...

But it wasn’t going to be enough, Holly realised. The snitch wasn’t making an appearance, and the score was climbing faster and faster. The Irish bludgers had worn down the Bulgarian chasers by now, and they were losing more and more possesions.

“Is he going to catch it?” Ginny asked Holly in a quiet voice.
“As soon as he sees it. Krum knows they can’t win,” Holly said, her voice utterly certain.

And so Krum did, leading Lynch into the ground again and catching the snitch with Ireland up by a hundred and sixty points. The stadium erupted into noise, and so did even the top box.

“That hit he took from the bludger must have scrambled Krum’s brains... why’d he catch it when they were a hundred and sixty points behind?” Ron asked.

“Because they were never going to get any closer. Krum wanted it to be a close thing, not a blowout... he caught it to save his teammate’s reputations,” Holly said. She heard, to her surprise, Draco Malfoy say much the same thing to his parents and the Minister.

Fred and George had apparently won quite a bit of money from Ludo Bagman by betting on this exact outcome, in addition to the gold they’d earned selling their inventions. Everyone was in a very good mood as they walked back through the forest to the campground. The Irish fans were celebrating loudly, but there was a good-natured cheer about the whole thing. Holly saw a group of Irish fans, decked out entirely in shamrock-cloaks, drinking with a group of Bulgarian fans at the very entrance to the campground. They gave her a cheer as she walked past, and Holly realised with a start that they’d recognised her.

They all stayed up quite late, drinking hot chocolate and talking about the match. Holly, Charlie, and Ginny all defended Krum’s actions to the rest of the Weasleys. Eventually, after Ginny fell asleep at the kitchen table, everyone headed off to bed. Holly was so sleepy she only took off her coat and shoes before she climbed into her top bunk in the girl’s tent and fell asleep.

Her dreams featured her in the world cup, being introduced by Bagman. Somehow, despite the fact that she was playing for England in this dream, her team’s mascots were also Veela.

Holly woke to a loud sound nearby. The Irish fans had been letting off fireworks all night and shooting spells into the air, but this sounded different. Then she smelt it - the stench of rotting eggs and ash.

She leapt down from her bunk bed, putting on her shoes and coat as Mr Weasley burst into the tent.

“Everyone up!” he shouted. Ginny groggily moved towards her clothes, having gotten changed into her pyjamas, but Mr Weasley shook his head.

“Just put a jacket on and get your shoes, then come outside. There’s no time or anything else!” Mr Weasley said.

“What’s going on?” Holly asked as she drew her wand and excited the tent. She could see people running this way and that, screaming loudly. Sirius and Remus were dressed and had their wands out, as did most of the older Weasleys.
Holly saw it, then. A mass of wizards moving across the field towards the campground, clustered tightly together. They seemed for a moment to lack faces, but then Holly realised that they were just wearing skull masks. Roiling snakes formed from fire slithered through the grass in front of them, setting it alight. People were running into the woods to get away from them, but they were firing spells at anybody they could see.

One elderly man was hit by a bolt of purple light, and Holly nearly threw up as she saw his entrails violently exploded from his stomach. One of the snakes rushed towards him, and then Holly realised how big they were. It opened its flaming jaws, and swallowed the man whole. He barely had time to scream before he was consumed by the fire.

“Death Eaters - Arthur, we need to get her out of here!” Remus shouted.

“What? No, I want to help!” Holly said, and before anyone could stop her or she could think sensibly about the situation she had dashed off towards the crowd. She was faster on her feet than any of them, and before anyone had thought to use a spell on her she was out of their line of sight.

She saw three people - one was the campground manager, and the other two must have been his wife and daughter - floating in the air above the Death Eaters. All three seemed to have been repeatedly jinxed and hexed, to the drunken cheers of the mob of Death Eaters.

Holly saw someone rushing away from the crowd fall, and her heart stopped as she realised who it was. Jane Thomas had tripped over a root, and from the sound of her scream had twisted something badly. Dean was trying to help her up, as was Seamus. Holly saw one of the snakes - nearly the size of the Basilisk she’d killed and made entirely out of fire - rear up over the three of them.

Time seemed to slow, and the whispers got louder. In the dark night, the fiery snakes seemed alive to Holly. They moved with a malevolent intelligence, delighting in setting everything they could reach aflame. Holly could hear the awkward, practiced hisses the Death Eaters were using to order them around.

“Stop!” Holly hissed, and the fiery snake stopped mid-bite. Jane got up, and Dean and Seamus managed to drag her out from under the flaming snake. Holly looked at the screaming, writhing form Mr Robert’s young daughter, who couldn’t be more than thirteen. She felt the rage boil up inside her, and she listened to the whispers.

“Turn on your master - devour he who created you!” Holly screamed in parseltongue, knowing that the fiendfyre would obey her over its master. It would have no choice to accept the orders of a true parselmouth. The snake turned slowly, deliberately, and descended on one of the Death Eaters. He screamed, but only briefly.

Holly was broken from her trance-like state as she saw the snake reduce the man to a charred, blackened corpse in mere moments. She felt sick as the smell of the feindfyre and the burning corpses began to overwhelm her, and what she had just done sunk in. Her wand hand shook, and she clamped her other hand down on it.

“Extinguish yourselves!” Holly hissed desperately, and the snakes began to eat their own tails. Normal fire, lit by the snakes, still raged - but the cursed fire was gone in moments. She felt shame rush through her, and she knew she could have ordered the snakes to do that from the start. She'd been so full of rage - enough rage to burn a man to ash and melted skin. One of the Death Eaters finally noticed her and began pointing at her.

“Look, it’s Potter! A thousand galleons to anyone who brings him to me!” shouted a familiar voice from behind a skull mask.

Holly tore her eyes away from the man... from the man she’d killed, and put her wand up. This, she realised, had been a really stupid idea.

Chapter 41: Year Four, Chapter Seven

Chapter Text

“Fulmina!” Holly shouted, whipping lightning across the massed shields of the Death Eaters. The sound and bright light her curse made slamming into those shields gave her a precious few moments as she darted for cover. She moved not a moment too soon, and the place she’d been standing exploded as a blasting curse struck.

Holly fired back, casting as quick as she could, as she ran between the burning tents. The Death Eaters sprinted after her, the Robertses forgotten, and all semblance of order on their part gone. Holly was much faster and more agile than the drunken Death Eaters, many of whom had guts bulging against their old robes.

One of the Death Eaters had kept in better shape than the rest, and it was his downfall. He dashed into the burning tents ahead of his friends, and Holly turned back towards him. Her lightning curse cut through his shield, and then her stunner lifted him off his feet and blasted him through a burning tent.

Another rounded the corner, and Holly only barely shielded herself against his curse - a crescent blade of purple fire. She tried to disarm him, then tried to stun him when that failed. He laughed and advanced on her.

“Stunning spells and disarming charms? I heard you could fight, Potter!” he snarled. He raised his wand, ready to cast a powerful dark curse. Holly was faster. She slashed her wand at him and hissed, and a whip of black lightning cut off his wand hand. He screamed, but Holly knocked him out with a stunning spell as a mercy.

Holly had to desperately roll out of the way of a wheezing purple curse that she’d seen explosively disembowel a man only a minute ago. It had already cut through several tents and left a trail in the smoke as it raced towards her. She fired back blindly, the fire and smoke obscuring her from the Death Eaters. One of her spells, a reductor curse, must have hit one of them because Holly heard one of them scream loudly.

The Death Eaters might have been slower than her, but there were so many of them that they were able to outflank her. She rushed around a corner only to find half a dozen skull-mask wearing dark wizards blocking her path. She shielded against a half-dozen spells and blinded them with a quick ‘lumous solem’, then dashed between two burning tents.

Spells shot after her, jets of light cutting and blasting through tents. One cutting curse glanced Holly, but it was deflected off by her Basilisk skin coat. The impact of the curse still sent her sprawling, but she’d only been bruised instead of cut open.

A bolt of green light rushed over her head, and Holly felt a chill run down her spine. That had been a killing curse, and it blew apart a large tent as it missed her.

“Potter is the Dark Lord’s alone! No killing curses or he’ll deal with you personally!” shouted a voice Holly recognised - Barty Crouch Junior!

Holly sent a powerful blasting curse back in the direction the killing curse had been fired from, and she grinned as she heard a Death Eater cry out in pain. She rounded another corner and was halfway through casting a curse when she realised the men standing at the end of the row were Sirius, Remus, and the Weasleys.

“Holly! You stupid, brave girl,” Sirius said, rushing towards her. She let him drag her back behind the line of adult wizards.

“They - I had to, Sirius,” she said, breathing hard. The Death Eater’s scream as his own fiendfyre engulfed him echoed in her mind.

“Listen to me, Holly. We can handle it from here. I need you to go get your friends to safety, you understand me?” Sirius said, putting his hands on her shoulders.
“I... I understand, Sirius,” Holly said. Her face was stained with soot.

“They’re just back behind that corner, Holly. They refused to leave without you,” Mr Wealsey said, and Holly couldn’t help but smile. It was a stupid thing for them to do, but she appreciated it all the same.

“I will, Mr Weasley. I promise,” Holly said. She heard rushing footsteps get closer.

“Go! Now!” Remus said, as the adults found cover and got ready. Holly dashed around the corner to see her defiant looking friends, all with their wands out.

“Holly!” Ginny shouted, and Ron grinned. Hermione let out a sigh of relief. Fred and George seemed to relax slightly.

“You’re a bloody nutter, you know that?” Ron said.

“I know. Let’s - let’s get back to the woods and get out of here,” Holly said. The fire had begun to spread by now, but luckily most of the people had run ahead of them. Here and there they had to help people who’d fallen up, but nobody stopped them as they left the campsite and rushed into the woods.

“Afraid of something, Potter?” Draco Malfoy drawled. He was leaning against a tree, looking utterly relaxed. Holly’s friends started to speak, but she was still running on adrenaline and not inclined to be very charitable.

“Stupefy!” Holly responded, sending Draco sprawling to the ground with a look of utter shock on his face. Holly turned to see her friends giving her a look. “What?” she asked.

“That was... rapid,” Hermione said.

“I’m fairly certain I heard Malfoy Senior out there. I don’t want Draco blabbing to his dad,” holly said.

“Makes sense,” Fred said, and he hexed Draco. Pimples broke out across his face, and everyone but Hermione laughed.

“Really, Fred?” she said.

“I’ll admit it’s a low blow, but Malfoy’s a little wananbe Death Eater,” Fred said. Holly was about to interject when a deafening roar split the night sky. Wizards on very fast broomsticks flew overhead, just above the treetops, and started firing powerful curses down into the opposite edge of the campgrounds.

“And that’d be the Hitwizards, bloody late as usual,” Ron said. A few darts of light were cast up at the Ministry wizards on broomsticks, but they were moving so fast that they were nearly impossible to hit. Some of them cast a spell that sent pulses of blue light into the dark clouds above them, and a moment later it began to rain.

It was light, for a moment, and then the rain came down in earnest. The wind picked up, howling through the trees, and the rain seemed to become almost horizontal.

“Is this far enough?!” Hermione shouted over the wind.

“Let’s go back a bit!” Holly responded, and they went deeper into the woods. The sounds of fighting were more distant now - dull thumps of blasting curses, sharp cracks from bolts of lightning, the high-pitched noise of stunning spells being fired en-masse. They quickly found shelter from the storm beneath a large tree, which provided a little bit of dry ground.

“Do - do you think we’re winning?” Ron asked.

“Have you counted how many Hitwizards and Aurors have flown past overhead in the last few minutes?” Ginny asked, rolling her eyes.

As half a dozen bolts of lightning all slammed down from the stormclouds above, right onto the battlefield, Holly felt something change. A sensation she hadn’t noticed faded, and suddenly Holly felt much lighter. A subtle pressure at her temples that had been building and building faded, and instinctively Holly knew what had happened.

“They’ve dismissed the anti-apparition jinx,” Holly said, her voice cutting through the noise of the wind.

“It’s all over, then,” George said.

“Poor Mr Roberts,” Hermione said, and Holly could see how she relaxed as she too felt the jinx fade. Everyone still had their wands in their hands, though, and as several figures ran towards them out of the smoke, rain and darkness everyone pointed their wands at them.

“Woah, we’re with the Ministry!” one of them said, a handsome dark-skinned man in the characteristic coat of an Auror. Several hitwizards and hitwitches trailed after him. “Kingsley Shacklebolt, Auror. Are you alright, Miss Potter?” he asked.

“I’ll have one hell of a bruise in the morning, but I’m essentially fine,” Holly said. That was a lie, of course. She could still hear the Death Eater’s screams, still see the moment his skin started to melt over and over again in her mind. As her adrenaline faded, the memory became clearer and clearer.

“That was a hell of a thing you did, kid. Charging in like that... reckless, but you probably saved a whole lot of lives,” Kingsley said. Holly felt awkward, tried to think of what to say, and just nodded instead.

“Is everyone alright?” Ginny asked. Kingsley turned to look at her and clearly recognised the Weasleys.

“Your father and brothers are fine, Miss. Black and Lupin were too, Miss Potter. We’ve got a few injured, but nothing St Mungo’s can’t fix. A few people died before we got there, but the Robertses are alright,” Kingsley said and Holly felt relieved. At least she’d managed to help them after all.

Kingsley led them back to the campground, and Holly saw with some surprise that their tents were still there and intact. Mr Weasley, Sirius, and Remus were all apparently still busy, so Bill was in charge. Nobody felt much like doing anything but sleeping, and Holly didn’t even take off her coat before she got into bed.

As Hermione blew out the candles, leaving the girl’s tent in darkness, Holly traced her hands along where she thought the spell had hit her coat. There was no mark, no marred surface that she could feel. Now she knew that it wouldn’t do much for the force behind a spell, but knowing her coat would hold up to a dark cutting curse was comforting.

When everyone else in the tent was comfortably asleep, Holly cried. Softly and quietly, curled up in her top bunk, she sobbed into her pillow. The memories of the night’s events played in her mind again and again, like she’d been tied down in front of a television playing the same tape on repeat. No matter how she tried to put it out of her mind, it always returned.

The whispers were getting stronger. She could hear them in the quiet of the dead of night, despite her Occlumency. Her hazily remembered dream about playing Quidditch for England and impressing the inexplicable Veela mascots seemed like a distant memory, but she’d had it only a few hours ago.
Eventually, she had no more tears to cry that night and she drifted off to an uneasy sleep. She had vivid nightmares, cacophonies of death and bloodshed that seemed to have no internal logic. She woke the next morning still feeling tired, and her side really did have a huge bruise.

Sirius and Remus still weren’t back, so Holly walked back to the portkey with the Weasleys. It had only been a few hours since they’d gone to sleep, and so everyone was too tired to talk as they trekked back all the way across the moor to the portkey station. Holly saw that there were several uniformed hitwizards standing guard around it, and how quickly Mr Weasley was able to get an express portkey to Stoatshead Hill.

“Oh thank goodness! You’re all safe!” Mrs Weasley shouted as they approached the Burrow once more. She hugged everyone, even Holly and Hermione, fiercely. Breakfast at the Burrow wasn’t quite able to dispel Holly’s sadness, but she felt better after it. Even if she did read the morning edition of the Daily Prophet.

Four innocent people, and one Death Eater, had died last night. Two had been killed in the stampede away from the campgrounds, and two by the Death Eaters. Only one Death Eater had died at the scene, but the paper promised that several had been badly wounded. Holly knew that for a fact.

There was a glossy picture taken at some point during her running battle with the Death Eaters right there on the front page, with an entire two paragraphs dedicated to Holly’s heroism. Her toast didn’t seem so appetising after that. She certainly didn’t feel like an all-conquering hero, she thought.

Chapter 42: Year Four, Chapter Eight

Chapter Text

Holly sat against an old stone amidst the long grass. A mug of tea, long since gone cold, was her only companion as the morning sun came clear into the sky. It was cold, but she didn’t really mind. Her wand felt warm in her hand as turned it this way and that, a warmth that usually brought her comfort. Her hand usually stopped shaking when she felt it.

She looked up at the sky, which was a perversely clear and brilliant blue, and remembered. She remembered Quirrel burning under her grip, Riddle’s final scream of terror, and what the Death Eater had looked like when he’d died. When Holly had killed him. Did he have a wife or a kid, she wondered? Were they happy to be free of a monster, or were they crying for a loving father?

Did it matter to her? He’d been happy enough to kill and torment innocent people - to torture someone just because they were different to him. She thought back to something Dumbledore had once told her, and she understood. She’d been so young then, so sure - and yet it had only been a year and a half since that day in the hospital wing. So many things had changed, for the better and for the worse.

“You okay, Holly?” Ginny said, emerging from the long grass. Her hair was wet, and Holly smiled weakly as she approached.

“Not really,” Holly said, looking down. Here, away from everyone else, she felt she could be a little more honest. Ginny sat down next to her so that the two of them were both leaning against the rock.

“Is it about last night, or...?” Ginny asked, and neither of them looked at one another. They both starred up into the vast blue sky, watching the occasional white cloud roll by.

“The - the one who died. I killed him... I turned his curse back on him,” Holly whispered. She hadn’t told anyone about that yet, and surely the Aurors wouldn’t work it out if she didn’t tell them. A dark wizard dying after his Fiendfyre broke loose? A tale as old as time.

“Did the fire whisper to you too?” Ginny asked, her voice just as low.

“Y-yeah. I was so - I was so angry. He tried to set it on Dean Thomas and his sister,” Holly said, and the words felt weak. She’d stopped the Fiendfyre well before she’d ordered it to turn on its master.

“So you turned it back on him,” Ginny said. Her shoulder touched Holly’s, a burst of warmth on a cold morning.

“I stopped it. Then I listened to them and turned it on him,” Holly said, and that difference was important. Important to her, at least.

“I can still hear Tom, sometimes. When it’s quiet, and I forgot to be doing something,” Ginny said, as she picked up a twig and twirled it through her fingers. “Sometimes he’s nice; like he was at first. Sometimes it feels like I’m back down there,”

“I don’t want to end up like him,” Holly said.

“Well, that’s a silly thing to worry about. You and I both know he’d have never have come down into the Chamber to save me. Or gone charging off like a lunatic to save little Emily Roberts,” Ginny said, as she put her hand on Holly’s.

“What if I... what if I change?” Holly said.

“Everyone changes. You weren’t always Holly, but you’re still you. Just better looking - and you’ve never been like Tom,” Ginny said. She held Holly’s hand now, tenderly, slowly. A faint wind blew through the long grass, revealing the Burrow for just a moment. They weren’t really that far away from it, but here behind the long grass felt like an entirely different world to Holly.

“Thanks, Ginny,” Holly said. Her hand wasn’t shaking in Ginny’s, and she didn’t feel quite so tired. She lent her head against Ginny’s shoulder, taking advantage of Ginny’s recent gain in height.

“Any time, Holy. You know you can speak to us about this stuff - me, Hermione... even Ron. And you know my mum or Sirius would listen,” Ginny said.

“I know,” Holly said, and the two of them sat there for quite a while, watching the sky.

It wasn’t quite that simple, of course, but Holly’s return to Grimmauld Place was not as melancholy as it would have been without that conversation behind the long grass. Sirius looked worn out but otherwise fine when he arrived at the Burrow that day to pick Holly up. They walked through the fire into the long dining room of Grimmauld Place, and as soon as the bright green fire vanished Holly gave Sirius a tight hug.

“It’s good to see you too, Holly. I’m sorry the world cup turned out - well, like that,” Sirius said as he hugged her back.

“The cup was fun,” Holly said, letting Sirius go. It had been everything she’d been looking forward to and more - it was the night after that would live in her nightmares. “Did... are the Robertses alright?” Holly asked.

“They will be. You got the Death Eater’s attention pretty quickly, all things considered,” Sirius said.

“I need to tell you a few things about the attack. I recognised some of the voices,”

“Who did you recognise? It won’t hold up in court, but Dumbledore will be glad to get some good intelligence,” Sirius said.

“Malfoy was the one who saw me. Offered up a thousand galleons to whoever caught me,” Holly said.

“Cheapskate. He could have at least sprung for ten thousand - though maybe we should be glad he didn’t! Anyone else?”

“Yeah. One of them missed me with a killing curse, and I’m sure I heard Barty Crouch Junior tell him off,”

“You’re sure you heard Crouch?” Sirius asked, looking straight at her.

“I’m sure. I’d recognise that voice anywhere,” Holl said with a shiver.

“Shit. Crouch being involved makes it being just a riot that got out of hand really fucking unlikely,” Sirius said, and then looked a little awkward.

“Come on, Sirius. I hear worse from ickle firsties every week at school,” Holly said.

“Remus keeps bugging me to be a better role model for you. Just so long as you don’t go swearing like a sailor in front of him - or let him catch you with that firewhiskey you have hidden away on your breath,” Sirius said with a grin.

“How’d you know about that?” Holly asked.

“Well, Padfoot happens to have a very good nose - and so do I,” Sirius said, and then they both laughed.

The Auror who’d found her after the attack, Kingsley Shacklebolt, came round that afternoon to ask Holly and Sirius for statements. Holly mostly told the truth, but she didn’t mention recognising the voices on Sirius’s advice. When it came time to describe the Fiendfyre, Holly left out the fact that she had ordered it to attack the Death Eater and let Kingsley come to his own conclusions.

The rest of Holly’s holidays passed much as they had before the World Cup, though Sirius and Remus waited a few days to let her recover before they started up the lessons again. Holly’s Occlumency got better and better, and she started to delve into a few of the more advanced methods. She made a note to peruse the restricted section at Hogwarts for anything on Legilimency.

Holly had her friends round to Grimmauld place several times, and she and Hermione took Ron and Ginny out into muggle London once or twice. Ron, now something of an old muggle hand, was able to fit in almost as well as Holly and Hermione. The Weasleys, the Grangers, and Holly, Sirius, and Remus all met up in Diagon Alley to do their Hogwarts shopping. Something new was on the uniform list this year, dress robes, and all the adults would only smile knowingly when Holly or her friends asked them what would be going on at Hogwarts this year.

Sirius managed to save Ron from a pair of horrifying lace-encrusted dress robes by remembering a set he’d left at Grimmauld place as a Hogwarts student. Ginny managed to find a decent pair for cheap in a second-hand shop, and everyone inundated Holly with advice on what she should get.

Luckily, she listened to none of them and got Madam Malkin’s opinion. She ended up with a set of green dress robes she really liked, and that made her feel good about how she looked. Hermione managed to get her’s whilst no one was looking, so all Holly got to see of it was a flash of periwinkle fabric.

It rained the morning that Holly was due at King’s Cross Station to return to Hogwarts. As they got out of the muggle taxi at the station, both of her guardians turned to her.

“Stay safe this year, Holly,” Sirius said.

“I’ll try,” Holly replied, grinning.

“Well, don’t go looking for trouble. I’m sure you’ll find more than enough to give both of us grey hairs before our time, but try your best,” Remus said, as he put a hand on Holly’s shoulder.

“And try to prank Snivelus for me at least once,” Sirius said. Remus sighed.

“Do write to us when you get the Quidditch fixture, Holly,” Remus said, as they walked through the barrier.

“I will. Don’t go and get all old and boring on me while I’m gone,” Holly said.

“I promise not to. Marauder’s honour,” Sirius said, laughing. Holly waved goodbye, and then she got aboard the train. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were already there, and Holly gratefully sat down next to Ginny.

“Hello, Holly. Did Sirius tell you what’s going on this year? All any of our lot would do is give out weird hints,” Ron said.

“Turns out he can keep a secret pretty well,” Holly said.

“Funny that. Your mother did say we’d find out this evening, though,” Hermione said.

“Oh yeah, she did say that. I guess it can’t be too bad if it requires dress robes, though - I mean, it’s not like we’re gonna be fighting dragons in them. Exploding snap, anyone?” Ginny said. Neville Longbottom soon joined them, and halfway through the game so did someone else.

“So what did your father sell to get seats in the top box, Weasel?” Draco Malfoy said, leaning against the opposite wall and looking into the compartment through the door Neville had left open. He had large bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping properly. His two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, both seemed to have gained about a foot of height and fifty pounds of muscle over the Summer holidays. They stood behind Draco in an attempt at menace.

“What did your father have to sell to stay out of Azkaban?” snapped Hermione.

“I wasn’t talking to you, mudblood,” Draco spat.

“Sure you want to do this song and dance again, Draco? We both know I’d wipe the floor with you,” Holly said, idly spinning her wand in her fingers.

“We’ll see if you’re still so confidant after I win our year’s bracket,” Draco said, and Holly blinked.

“Our year’s bracket in what?”

“You mean you don’t know about it?” Draco said, sounding genuinely confused. “All those raids and no one told your father? That’s rich, Weasel,” Draco said, laughing. He didn’t stick around too long, however. Perhaps, Holly thought, he remembered being stunned and then hexed at the World Cup.

“Does everybody know about this mysterious event but us?” Holly asked.

“Seems like it,” Ron said, and then they went back to their exploding snap game. The rain was pouring down when the train arrived at Hogsmeade station, and Holly barely had time to shout hello to Hagrid as she ran past him to the carriages. Holly, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Ron all piled into one carriage. It was a tight fit, but they were all able to sit down if only just.

As the Thestral started to slowly trot towards the gates and the rain beat down on the carriage roof, Holly caught sight of the castle for the first time in months. She smiled, happy to be back for another year at Hogwarts.

Chapter 43: Year Four, Chapter Nine

Chapter Text

Lightning flashed across the sky, striking just outside the grounds of the castle. The rain poured down in thick sheets, and Holly was glad she’d charmed her cloak imperturbable. Still, her hood up, she ran up the stone steps to the entrance hall with Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Hermione. The wind howled around them, so loud that the only thing Holly could hear over it was the occasional crack of distant thunder.

A water balloon exploded against her cloak, and Holly saw Peeves swooping low over them. Everyone ran faster, and Neville nearly slipped, but they managed to get inside and away from Peeves just as McGonagall stormed out and sent the poltergeist packing.

“That thing is a bloody menace. Poor Neville nearly tripped and broke his neck,” Ron said.

“According to ‘Hogwarts, A History’, several headmasters have tried to get rid of him. Poltergeists are powerful magical creatures,” Hermione explained.

“Still, I reckon Dumbledore could get rid of him if he really wanted to,” Holly said, as the five of them entered the Great Hall and took their seats at the Gryffindor table. The enchanted ceiling above, which showed the sky outside, flashed with thunder and rained illusory water. Each of the four house tables was lined with empty plates and platters.

Holly only half-listened to the Sorting Hat’s song, and her claps for the new Gryffindors were distracted at best. She was too eager trying to figure out what was going on this year - every adult in her life seemed to know and delight in not telling her. She was distracted only temporarily by the magnificent feast.

“Did you know the Wizengamot tried to pass a bill forcing Hogwarts not to make contracts with elves?” Hermione said.

“What do you mean?” Holly asked.

“They wanted them to be... kept like Dobby was. It’s barbaric,” Hermione said. She was going to say more, but then the feast appeared. The empty platters were full of roasted meats and vegetables, with freshly baked bread at regular intervals.

“You gotta be a right tosser not to be willing to pay for this,” Ron said.

“Say, do you guys see the new Defence professor up there?” Ginny asked.

“Nobody new. Maybe Dumbledore couldn’t get anyone?” Holly said.

“Maybe Lupin’ll come back,” Ron said.

“Ron, Holly lives with him. I’m sure he’d tell her if he was coming back,” Hermione said.

“Maybe the new professor’s just late,” Holly said, to a general round of laughter.

Holly enjoyed the feast and helped herself to seconds of the treacle tarts during dessert. The food at Hogwarts was always excellent, though the feasts took it up another level. As she helped herself to seconds of the treacle tart, Holly saw someone glaring at her from the Slytherin table. He was a tall, muscular seventh-year boy with dark hair and darker eyes.

“Do you know who that is?” Holly asked, nodding towards the glaring boy.

“Thomas Avery, I think. What’d you do to him?” Ron asked.
“I don’t know, but he really seems to be angry with me,” Holly said. She’d never so much as spoken a word to him. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but she fell silent along with everyone else in the Great Hall when Dumbledore rose to speak.

“Now that we are all fed and watered, I think there are several notices to cover before we can all head off to bed,” Dumbledore said, smiling out at the crowd of students. There was a sense of anticipation and excitement building, as rumours of the mysterious event happening at Hogwarts this year had circulated throughout the hall at the feast.

“As is now a long-standing tradition, Mr Filch has updated his list of banned items to include such terrors as fanged frisbees and ever-bashing boomerangs. The full list of prohibited items, now standing at one hundred and thirty-seven items long, is available outside his office. Whilst most of you are well aware of this, for those new to our school and those that need reminding, the forest on the grounds is off-limits to students,” Dumbledore said, working his way through the usual announcements. Whispers shot around the Great hall, everyone eager to get to the rea announcements.

“I do have one more -” Dumbledore began, but he was interrupted by lightning crashing down from the enchanted ceiling itself. It was only light and sound, but it was immensely loud and bright. As everyone blinked rapidly, Holly saw someone enter the Great Hall. People turned, one by one at first and then a huge wave all at once.

A man in a muddy coat stood in the doorway, his wooden leg and artificial eye glaringly obvious. His skin seemed to be more scar than flesh, and he leant on a long walking stick. He was absolutely soaked through, and already a small puddle of water surrounded him.

He walked forward, his two different footfalls falling into an awkward, discordant rhythm. Everyone starred, and Holly recognised him for her last year at Hogwarts.

“He’s an Auror,” she whispered to her friends. Eyebrows shot up, but nobody dared do anything more than whisper to one another. Dumbledore was in the middle of speaking, after all.

“Good to see you, Alastor. This is, as you may have surmised, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Alistair Moody,” Dumbledore said and started to clap, but everyone was too transfixed by Moody’s bizarre appearance to do anything but stare.

Moody gave Dumbledore what, in his mind, was a friendly nod and then took his seat. Dumbledore looked at him once, nodded in understanding, and kept talking.

“That, I believe, brings us near to the end of these somewhat overlong remarks - and you all that much closer to your warm, comfortable beds. But... stay a moment if you would. Because when you dream in those warm, comfortable beds tonight - you will be dreaming of what I am about to announce. This year, Hogwarts will play host to an event not seen in centuries - it will play host to the Triwizard Tournament!” Dumbledore said, and the Great hall erupted in noise. Several people cheered. One Slytherin even got up and clapped.

“Triwizard tournament?” Holly asked, confused.

“Now, some of you - indeed probably most of you - will not know what the Triwizard Tournament is. It was, after all, discontinued several hundred years ago on account of the rising death toll. The three finest schools of magic in all of Europe - our own Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang - each select a champion to represent them in three magical tasks. Whilst that is still the case in this new tournament, all involved in arranging it felt that it was rather focused on one individual only... and, of course, we took steps to ensure no champion faced lethal danger,” Dumbledore said.

Holly was entranced by the idea and was grinning with the rest of her housemates.

“The first change is that no students under the age of seventeen will be eligible to become a champion,-” Dumbledore said, only for indignant shouts to interrupt him. “- as they are not yet ready to face the dangers of the tournament. However, to allow the schools as a whole to contribute, a number of competitions and challenges will be run throughout the school year, open to students of all ages from each school. Victory in these events will bring aid to the champion of the victor’s school during the main tasks - so those of you not yet of age may still contribute to Hogwarts’s chances. These events will be announced throughout the year, but I have the distinct pleasure of announcing the first of these tonight. This year, the internal Quidditch leagues of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang will be combined - giving us a league of thirteen teams,” Dumbledore said, and that got people really excited. Holly grinned broadly at the idea - it sounded like a great time, and everyone always said that Hogwarts should play more Quidditch matches a season.

“I see you are all appropriately excited! Our guests from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive in October, and champions will be selected by an impartial judge on the night of Halloween. If selected, you will face great dangers... but will also be given the chance to vie for eternal glory. And, as one cannot eat eternal glory, a prize of ten thousand galleons. Now, off to be bed with you!” Dumbledore said, and Holly talked with her friends the whole way up to Gryffindor tower.

“Are you going to try and enter?” Hermione asked her as they were queuing up to brush their teeth just outside the girl’s bathrooms.

“I’m not that - well, I am that reckless, but only if someone else is in danger. I already have a mountain of gold and all the ‘eternal glory’ anybody could want, Hermione,” Holly said, and Hermione nodded slowly.

“Just making sure,” she said. Holly rolled her eyes.

Holly didn’t dream of eternal glory that night, but she did sleep soundly. Her nightmares had been banished for the moment, and she woke on her first day back bright and full of energy.

“This tournament thing sounds mental. I mean, I’d enter if I could, but still...” Ron said that morning at breakfast.

“I’m glad they limited participation to of-age wizards only, at least. And the other events sound like they might be less... lethal,” Hermione said.

“I dunno, Hermione. I’ve heard they play some rough Quidditch at Durmstrang,” Ginny said, putting some scrambled eggs onto her plate.

“Speaking of, mate, do you know when Angelina’s holding tryouts?” Ron asked Holly.

“I think Friday afternoon? You’re a shoe-in for keeper, Ron, though. The only other choice is Cormac Mac-fucking-Laggan,” Holly said.

“Blimey, what’d he do?” Ron asked.

“Implied that Holly - well, implied some nasty things about her. Made a complaint to McGonagall and everything,” Hermione said.

“Right. I’ll have a word with the twins to hit him extra hard during tryouts,” Ron said, and Holly laughed.

“Miss Potter? Professor Dumbledore would like a word in his office after dinner tonight,” McGonagall told Holly as she handed out timetables.

“Gotcha, Professor,” Holly said.

Draco Malfoy received his usual shipment of sweets from home that morning, but Holly noticed that he didn’t seem to be too happy about the letter attached to the parcel. He was irritable and withdrawn all day, a change Holly mostly welcomed (as he’d stopped trying to mess with her) but it was very odd. He hadn’t said a single rude or bigoted thing when they were collecting pus in Herbology or learning about Blast-Ended Srewts in Care of Magical Creatures. He wasn’t even rude to Hagrid.

There was something odd going on with Malfoy, Holly decided.

Disappointingly, Holly didn’t have Defence until Thursday, but the school was already awash with rumours about how Moody was a great - if very unnerving - teacher. Several older students had walked out of his classes looking like they’d been hexed half a dozen times, and most of them probably had been. People were already shouting ‘Constant Vigilance!’ at one another in the halls.

That night, after dinner, Holly gave the gargoyle the password and headed up to see Dumbledore. She was unsure what she’d be learning from him. Advanced spells, maybe, or perhaps some kind of hidden esoteric magic. There was only one way to find out, she realised and opened the door to Dumbledore’s office.

Chapter 44: Year Four, Chapter Ten

Chapter Text

“Enjoying being back, Holly?” Dumbledore asked her as she opened the inner door to his office. It was as full of whirling gadgets and grumbling portraits as ever, and Holly smiled as she saw Fawkes - fully resplendent in his adult plumage - perched on his stand.

“It is good to be back, professor,” Holly said as she sat down in the comfy-looking armchair on the opposite side of his desk to him. Dumbledore had once been the transfiguration professor at Hogwarts, Holly remembered, and he could certainly conjure a good chair.

“Good, good. While I do enjoy our conversations, I am afraid I shall have to continue our habit and discuss certain weighty matters rather than pleasant trivialities tonight,” Dumbledore said.

“At the end of last year, after I told you about Trelawney’s prophecy, you said there were things I had to learn...” Holly said, cautiously.

“There are. First amongst them is something your godfather has been teaching you - Occlumency. There are secrets, Holly, that Voldemort would kill to learn... or invade your mind to do so, were he to become aware of your connection,” Dumbledore said.

“I guess I’ve gotten pretty good at it but getting good enough to stop Voldemort sounds like it’d take more than a summer,” Holly said.

“For anyone else, you would be quite right. Against Voldemort’s direct gaze, or merlin-forbid a verbal casting of Legilimens, you would be as helpless as a newborn babe. The connection between you, however, is much more difficult for him to use. Time and space matter in magic, Holly, and distance alone is quite some protection. And, of course, you have the protection your mother’s sacrifice gave you - so should you have even a basic mastery of Occlumency, your mind will be quite secure from Voldemort,” Dumbledore explained.

“Couldn’t he just get someone else to do it, sir?” Holly asked

“Ah, well of course that is how you or I would solve such a conundrum. Voldemort, however, would not trust one of his followers with such a task. I am going to test your defences now if that is acceptable to you?” Dumbledore asked, and Holly nodded. He didn’t, as Sirius had done, use his wand. He merely looked into her eyes with his own, and Holly felt a soft pressure against her mind.

She emptied her thoughts and threw up barriers of incoherent false memories, throwing up new defences even as the Headmaster nimbly slipped around all of her efforts. He didn’t batter through them, as a real dark wizard might have, only testing their strength and then slipping around them. Finally, he broke through her last defences and then withdrew from her mind at once.

“A most excellent effort, for one summer’s work. Even if he were at his fulls strength, Voldemort would be unable to read your memories through your connection. You mentioned dear Sibyl’s prophecy from last year. At the time, I mentioned that she had given two others. One of those was the cause of Voldemort’s attack on you and your parents,” Dumbledore said gravely.

“What do you mean? Did it foretell something about them?” Holly asked though something told her it was about more than that.

“Voldemort was passed an... incomplete copy of it, by a spy in his employ. That was what motivated him to attack that Halloween night in Godric’s Hollow. I should warn you, Holly, that this will not be an easy thing to hear. Are you sure you wish to hear it?” Dumbledore asked, his voice steady and serious.

“I am,” Holly said, without so much as a waver in her voice. With a wave of his hand, DUmbledore opened up a cabinet. Inside was a large stone basin, lines of tiny glowing Norse runes running all along the outside of it.

“I have placed my memory of it in my pensive... if you are sure, then,” Dumbledore said, and Holly gave him one final nod. He got up, and she followed. They walked over to the basin, and Dumbledore touched his wand to the liquid inside of it - which looked like nothing more than liquid moonlight. Dumbledore’s wand glowed brightly for a second, and for a moment Holly found her eyes drawn to it. There was something familiar about it - but she could think no more about that strange sensation as a ghostly figure emerged from the Pensieve.

Professor Trelawney looked much the same as the Professor Holly took Divination classes from, though she was somewhat younger. She seemed to be formed out the strange, ethereal liquid in the basin, and she spoke in a voice Holly recognised - the voice of true prophecy.

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark them as his equal, but they will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies. …”

“So that’s it, then? I have to what, fight him?” Holly asked. She didn’t know what to feel, hearing the words. She thought she should be shocked, but something about the prophecy felt... right, almost, to her. That it would come down to her and Voldemort seemed to make sense to her, on an instinctual level.

“Prophecy, Holly, is a tricky business. Whoever it is that weaves the threads of fate does not always get their way... and often enough they get it from those who hear the predictions they pass on. Lord Voldemort believes in that part of Sibyl’s prophecy he has heard, so he will not rest until he has killed you. If you had not heard it, would you be content not to fight him?” Dumbledore asked.

“No, I guess I wouldn’t,” Holly said.

“While you are a most extraordinary young witch, I do not think you are destined to simply out-duel Voldemort. Rather, there are two factors to consider. The first, and lesser, is that in failing to kill you that Halloween night, Voldemort passed along much of his powers to you. Indeed, it is now my belief that whatever magical skills and abilities he possed that night, you would be capable of performing,” Dumbledore said.

“But being able to cast whatever spells he could a decade ago isn’t going to let me beat him... and I’m not sure I want to know some of them,” Holly said.

“That is why I called it the lesser of the two. The greater factor is the power Voldemort “knows not”. I must confess I am still unsure as to what form this might take. I have considered several theories from the esoteric to the simple - love, true companions, a spell he has simply overlooked... whatever it is, however, I think that it will reveal itself in time,” Dumbledore said.

“Love?” Holly asked, sceptically.

“It has already been his ruin once, my dear girl. It protects you still,” Dumbledore said. There was quiet for a moment, and then the silvery waters of Pensieve that had become Professor Trelawney collapsed back into the basin with a splash. “We will cover much in this office, Holly. There are so many things I must teach you, so much you must learn... for tonight, I think this has been enough,” Dumbledore said.

Holly nodded, her feelings still oddly muted. She should have been shocked, terrified even by the words of the prophecy. Yet, all she could feel was the sense that her instinct had been right. She alone would face Voldemort, in the end. It was a ludicrous thing to consider. Holly was, she knew, very skilled for her age - but so had Tom Riddle been, and he had decades on her.

“I - I guess I’m glad I know about it, but I expected...” Holly said.

“To learn some spell of incredible power?” Dumbledore said, and she nodded. She felt silly saying it, and yet this had not been what she’d expected to learn when she’d walked into Dumbledore’s office. “I have every intention of teaching you magic, as well as secrets... but not, I think, in my office. I am rather fond of all my little gadgets and wonders, you see,” Dumbledore said, and Holly laughed.

“I guess that makes sense, professor. Thank you for telling me the truth about... about why everything happened,” Holly said.

“I am not sure you should be thanking me for placing such a burden on you, Holly,” Dumbledore said.

“It... it doesn’t feel like a new burden. More like I have a name for an old one,” Holly said.

“Indeed? Well, in any case - off to bed with you,” Dumbledore said, and Holly got up. She waved goodbye to Fawkes, said good night to Dumbledore, and headed back to Gryffindor Tower.

The idea of facing Voldemort was not another burden for her, but not being able to tell her friends about the prophecy was. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione cornered her after she returned, eager to know what Dumbledore had taught her.

“So, what’d he teach you?” Hermione asked.

“How to apperate in Hogwarts,” Ron suggested.

“Some really powerful spell,” was Ginny’s suggestion.

“He just wanted to test my Occlumency, and then told me some stuff,” Holly said, and Hermione’s eyes narrowed.

“Well, what’d he tell you then?” Ron asked.

“I can’t tell you all of it... he told me about a prophecy Professor Trelawney made. About why Voldemort’s after me, and... other stuff” Holly said.

“What other stuff?” Ginny asked. Holly paused, trying to think about what to say.

“She probably can’t tell us... because someone could just pluck it from our mind,” Hermione said, her eyes widening. Holly nodded.

“Blimey, people can do that?” Ron asked.

“There are ways to stop it... but they’re hard to learn, and you’d have to be really good to keep out the people who’d want to,” Holly said.

The Prophecy lingered in Holly’s mind that night, and she woke several times from old nightmares filled with a woman screaming and flashes of bright green light. Each time, her heart pounding, she grabbed her wand from her hiding place only to recognise her surroundings and relax.

Potions in the morning certainly didn’t help her mood, although Snape was continuing his policy of ignoring Holly. She was growing more and more confused about the Potions Professor, especially after seeing his Patronus. He was still just as awful to all the other Gryffindors, but when Holly handed in her potion at the end of the class, he merely gave her her grade (an ‘E’) without speaking.

She walked into the restricted section and made her notes on Legilimency in the light of day, the librarian not even asking for her pass anymore. A few people gave her a look as she entered the gated section of the library, but her fame worked to her advantage here.

Holly realised right away that she would need to practise on someone if she hoped to become a legilimens, and something clicked in her mind. Her friends would probably benefit from learning Occlumency, after all.

On Thursday, everyone arrived early to the Defence classroom before lunch had even ended. They were all excited to learn from ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody, a man whose reputation had spread through the school like wildfire. People told wild stories about him battling Death Eaters, and once having duelled Voldemort and survived.

Holly heard him arrive, his discordant gait easily recognisable through the noise of the school corridors. Moody merely seemed to be slightly amused at their early arrival and grinned as he entered the classroom.

“You won’t need those today,” he said, pointing at the copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection everyone had out. Excited whispers ran through the room like a bolt of lightning.

“You lot have had a mixed bag when it comes to Defence. Quirrel and Lockhart were both useless, but Lupin managed to salvage something from you, at least. I’m here for one year as a favour to Dumbledore, because he’s seen the storm clouds on the horizon and wants you all to be ready. So forget the Ministry-approved curriculum of me hinting at dark spells and teaching you countercurses more likely to amuse your enemy than incapacitate them. I’m going to teach you one thing and one thing only - how to defend yourselves from what’s out there. Now, if you’ll put that magazine under your desk away Miss Brown, let’s get started,” Moody said, and Holly grinned. It sounded like Mad-Eye Moody would live up this reputation.

Chapter 45: Year Four, Chapter Eleven

Chapter Text

“The Ministry has a lot of opinions on how I should be teaching you to defend yourselves. I’m not supposed to show you real dark curses until you’re doing your NEWTs, because dark wizards will only try to curse people who get an ‘E’ on their OWLs. Dumbledore thinks that’s complete crap, and so do I,” Moody said, grinning at the shocked faces of most of the class.

“A real dark wizard isn’t going to lecture you about the curse he’s going to hit you with, is he? Not going to give you a nice little explanation before he blows your innards out or makes you leap off a bridge. Still, I’m sure some of you know a little something about curses. There are always a few in every year... rumours, a little extracurricular reading -” Moody’s glass eye darted to Holly for just a moment and held her gaze, before turning away from her. “- or a little homeschooling. So, can any of you tell me what curses are most punishable under wizarding law?” Moody asked, pacing back and forth in front of the blackboard.

Slowly, cautiously, Hermione raised her hand. Everyone seemed to turn and look at her.

“The Unforgivable Curses, Professor,” Hermione said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Excellent, Granger. You’re exactly right, of course. I’m sure some of you know about one of them...” Moody said, casting his gaze around the classroom. Holly, of course, knew about all three. Her hand remained by her side, however.

“I - I know about one, Professor... well, my dad told me about it,” Ron said, his hand pointed tentatively in the air. Moody’s eyes, both artificial and natural, swirled around to gaze at Ron.

“Oh, your father would know. Which one, Weasley?” Moody asked.

“The Imp- the Imperius curse, professor. The mind control curse,” Ron said.

“Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble after Voldemort met his end, that one did. Makes the victim believe that whatever they’d done was their own idea... so that they’ll even say they came up with the idea under a truth potion. Nasty business, separating out those who really was under control... and those with the money to buy enough character witnesses,” Moody said, laughing bitterly. He took out a large jar from underneath his desk, which contained three large black spiders. Moody placed it on his desk, opened it up, and withdrew one spider almost gently.

“Now, any one of the three spells we’re going to discuss today carries an automatic life sentence for use on a human being... but spiders are another matter. Imperio!” Moody said, pointing his wand at the spider. There was a faint haze in the air, and then the spider started to move. It danced in the air on a thread of webbing, displaying more grace than Holly had ever seen a spider possess.

“I could make it do whatever I wanted - dance like it had spent years learning the ballet, bite a student putting gum under his desk, -” Moody said, keeping his wand pointed at the spider. It landed on Seamus’s head, but after a moment it jumped off to a chorus of laughter. “- or even throw itself out a window,” Moody said, and as the spider seemed to hover just an inch from falling through the open window, all the laughter ceased.

“Not so funny after all, eh? Should I make it do another little dance, or perhaps chide one of you with it sitting on your head? No? It’s not so easy to do to another wizard, but being able to throw off an Imperius curse is a skill you either have or you don’t. Best not to be hit in the first place, which means CONSTANT VIGILANCE!,” Moody shouted, making half the class jump. Holly felt her hand instinctively go for her wand, but she forced herself to relax. “Anybody else?” Moody asked.

Hermione still had her hand up, and to Holly’s surprise so did Neville. He looked nervous but oddly determined. It wasn’t an expression Holly saw on his face often, but it was unmistakable. Moody looked at him and paused for a moment. He looked between Hermione and Neville and then turned to Neville.

“Yes, Longbottom?” Moody said.

“The Cru-cruciatus curse, sir,” Neville said, his gaze not wavering from Moody’s.

“Aye, you would know that one. We’ll need a bigger spider for the demonstration to really take hold... Engorgio!” Moody said as he plucked another spider out of the jar and placed it on the desk. It grew with a disgusting stretching noise until it was the size of a small dog. “Crucio,” Moody said, his voice level and seemingly empty of all emotion, Holly saw the beam of red light strike the spider, but she didn’t hear its distressed clicking and chittering. She heard her own scream and high, cruel laughter. She remembered what it felt like to have every nerve in her body burn, her hands shaking under her desk.

Neville seemed almost on the verge of tears, but he didn’t look away. He gripped the desk with white-knuckled hands, his eyes wide. Moody once more caught Neville’s gaze and stopped the spell.

“Pain. Nothing more, nothing less. No thumbscrews or knives needed. That leaves only the last of them - if you could inform the rest of us, Miss Granger?” Moody said. He took out one last spider and put it on the desk, where it seemed to stand stock still.

“Avada Kedavra,” Hermione said, not looking at Moody. Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

“The killing curse. The last, and the worst,” Moody said, and he raised his wand. Holly felt something, an alien and cold sensation touch her mind ever so briefly, and then Moody spoke once more. “Avada Kedavra!” he shouted and a rush of bright green light struck the spider, which died without so much as a scared chitter.

Holly recognised the light, of course. Some had cast it at her during the attack on the World Cup. But she had known it far longer than that. She had dreamt of it for as long as she could remember, dreamt of high, mocking laughter and a flash of green light. She thought of her parents, lying as still and unblemished as the spider on the desk. Holly shivered and tried to ignore the whispers.

“There is no countercurse, no shielding from it. Only one person has survived its touch, and she’s sitting in this class,” Moody said. Everyone turned to look at Holly, and she responded by looking straight ahead. “Now, the Killing Curse requires an uncommon amount of power and focus. Even Voldemort can’t cast it without an incantation, and the wand movement’s complicated. A physical barrier will protect you, and so will not getting hit in the first place. So you need to practise CONSTANT VIGILANCE because, without it, you are going to get hit by this when a dark wizard comes calling,” Moody shouted.

The rest of Moody’s lesson was less dramatic theory and legal background to the Unforgiveable Curses, and Holly had to resolve to copy Hermione’s notes after class. Her own hand was still shaking too badly to write with, without the adrenaline of a life or death situation to steady it. Neville seemed to be about as distracted, but at least he was able to release his vice grip on his desk and copy down the notes.

“That was wicked. The way he just...” Ron whispered as they left the classroom. That seemed, to Holly, to be the general sentiment of the class. Hermione didn’t look as excited, and Holly could see that Neville was still a little out of it. What had all that been about, she wondered?

“Really, Ron?” Hermione said.

“What?” he said. Holly turned away from her two friends’ argument and looked at Neville.

“You okay, Neville?” she asked.

“I’m - I’m fine. Just a really interesting lesson... um, do you know what’s for dinner?” Neville asked, and Holly blinked. She had been about to respond when she heard Moody’s uneven gait behind her, the discordant step-clunk distinctive enough to cut through the noise of the corridor.

“You did well in there, Longbottom. I can see why the hat put you in with the lions - come with me, we’ll have a cup of tea...” Moody said, his growl almost soft. He put a hand on Neville’s shoulder, and as the two of them turned away Moody looked at Holly for just a moment. “You alright, Potter?”

“I’m fine,” she said, glad her hands had stopped shaking. She didn’t want Moody’s pity.

“I’m sure you are. It might seem harsh, the way I teach... but you’ve got to know. No use pretending. Come along, Longbottom,” Moody said, and then he and Neville walked away.

“What was that all about?” Ron asked as Holly rejoined her friends.

“I don’t know, really. Moody seemed... I’m not sure what to make of him,” Holly said.

“I suppose he’s used to teaching Auror trainees, not children. At least he does seem to know what he’s doing unlike some of our previous Defence Professors,” Hermione said with a sigh. Holly and Ron politely did not bring up Lockhart, although the two of them shared a look.

“I know I wouldn’t want to have to end up duelling this one,” Holly said, and all three of them laughed.

“Holly, you know how to get down into the kitchens, right?” Hermione asked her as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower.

“Yeah, it’s on the Map. Do you want me to show you how to get in?” Holly asked.

“I’ve been reading about House Elves, but all the books are written by wizards. Could you introduce me to Dobby?” she asked.

“Sure, I’ve been meaning to go say hello to him anyway,” Holly said.

“You two have fun with that, I’ve gotta go finish up the divination homework,” Ron said. Holly and Hermione walked all the way down the staircase again, and Holly showed Hermione how to tickle just the right pear to get into the kitchens.

The Hogwarts Kitchens seemed to be an exact, underground mirror of the Great Hall. The same five tables occupied the same positions, except that there were no chairs or anything on them. Ovens and stoves lined the walls, all wood-fired, and great runed vents in the ceiling drew out the smoke. Dozens of House Elves moved around the kitchens with manic energy, getting dinner ready tools that looked ludicrously oversized.

“Miss Holly Potter!” Dobby shouted, and that attracted the attention of all the rest of the House Elves. Several of them joined Dobby in rushing towards Holly and Hermione.

“Hello, Dobby. Do you remember Hermione?” Holly asked.

“Oh, Dobby remembers Miss Hermione Granger very well. Dobby is very glad you came to visit, Miss Holly Potter,” he said, smiling warmly.

“Is - is it alright if I ask you some questions, Dobby? Only I’ve been trying to read about House Elves, but all the books are written by really horrible pureblood wizards,” Hermione said. The elves that had joined Dobby made knowing sounds of agreement.

“Of course! Dobby is happy to help Miss Hermione learn. What is you wanting to know, miss?” Dobby said.

“Well, I don’t understand why House Elves need to bond with wizards. The books make it sound like you have to be enslaved, but you and the rest of the Hogwarts elves can still do elf magic just fine...” Hermione said.

“That is because we are bonded by contract, Miss Hermione. Elves like to work, and bonds with witches and wizards is how we get our magic, but we only need an agreement for that. Long ago, bad wizards used that magic to make elves do whatever they wanted. Wizards not be liking when there is magic they can’t control, miss. It is why they put all the dragons onto preserves and put iron bars on all the ways to other places,” Dobby said. Holly had never heard that before, but it made sense. Dobby had just as much power when Dumbledore was paying him to watch over Holly as when he’d been working for the Malfoys.

“What do the Hogwarts elves get, if you don’t mind me asking?” Hermione said.

“Each Elf gets different things, Miss Hermione. Dobby likes to buy things for himself and his friends, so Dobby is paid in wizard gold. Some elves only be wanting a token gift, so they ask the professor for brandy or biscuits. One elf is very strange indeed and is being paid in shiny muggle paper,” Dobby explained.

He and Hermione talked for nearly half an hour, whilst Holly played with a few tiny little elves who had to be their equivalents of children. They all seemed very happy to see her, though they shooed Holly and Hermione out when they began preparing inner in earnest.

“Thank you for showing me that, Holly,” Hermione said.

“I didn’t know most of that, either,” she said, as she and Hermione walked back up to Gryffindor Tower.

Chapter 46: Year Four, Chapter Twelve

Chapter Text

That Friday afternoon, Holly walked down to the Quidditch pitch in her red and gold Quidditch robes. Angelina Johnson was the new Gryffindor captain, and she was holding tryouts for Keeper and for reserve chasers. There was a large crowd of kids with brooms all gathered on the pitch, and Holly joined her teammates standing opposite them.

“Right. We’ll be holding tryouts for Keeper and Reserve Chasers today. No use changing up our Cchaser squad, and if you think you’re gonna be better than Potter or the Weasley twins...” Angelina said, to general laughter from the crowd. Holly made sure to cheer for Ron when it was his turn to try and block the quaffle, and she was delighted when he clearly beat Cormac McLaggen for the Keeper’s spot. Ginny made reserve chaser and reserve seeker, so when they returned to Gryffindor Tower, they were in a celebratory mood.

“You were brilliant, Ron,” Holly said.

“Couldn’t let McLaggen onto the team, could I? You or Angie would have hexed him off his broom within a week,” Ron said. Hermione, who had been watching from the stands, laughed.

“Quite true, ickle Ronniekins,” Fred said. Ron was, of course, taller than the twins by now. He towered over Holly, Hermione, and Ginny; especially Holly.

“We’ll be sure to tell your new captain how devoted to keeping her out of trouble you are,” George said, and Ron rolled his eyes.

“Shove off,” he said.

That night, Holly, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron all returned to Holly’s hidden potions laboratory in a disused secret passage. They were too big to all use her cloak, so Holly let her friends use it whilst she flew there transformed into a raven. She relished soaring through the corridors, using her phenomenal agility to take sharp turns at great speed.

She transformed back into herself just in front of the secret passage, looked both ways to make sure no one was around, and joined her friends inside.

“This place is wicked, Holly,” Ginny said.

“Yeah, you’ve got a full lab going on in here, mate,” Ron said.

“You have made sure it’s properly ventilated, right?” Hermione said.

“So long as we only use one cauldron at a time, we should be fine. Anyway, I already have the sticking collusion ready,” Holly said.

“I still can’t believe this is how you become an animagus. It sounds like the sort of fake spell Fred and George would teach you as a laugh,” Ron said.
“It’s not what I expected either, but it really does work. Are you all sure you want to do this?” Holly asked. Everyone nodded, and they all dunked their mandrake leaves in the sticking solution.

“That feels very odd... are you sure your arithmancy’s good, Holly?” Ginny asked.

“I’m sure. Hermione double-checked it for me,” Holly said. That was, at least for the students of Gryffindor Tower, as good as it got.

“It was some very nice prognostication, Holly. Although you need to show more of your work,” Hermione said.

“She’s not handing it in for homework, Hermione,” Ron said, shaking his head. Hermione blushed.

Over the next few weeks, Holly’s classes were harder than they had ever been at Hogwarts. Every teacher stressed that their OWLs were next year. OWLS, or Ordinary Wizarding Levels, were a big deal. Even Ron had been driven to study, at least a little. Holly’s lessons with Dumbledore, which took place around once a week, mostly concentrated on teaching her to defend her own mind. Dumbledore taught her much more advanced techniques than Sirius had been able to.

Moody’s Defence Against the Dark Art’s class was a standout in difficulty. Unlike Lupin, he did believe in essay writing and reading, but his lessons still had a huge practical component. Moody had them practice dodging little coloured jets of light that left glowing stains behind, keeping their aim when he was casting stinging jinxes at them and started drilling them on the shield charm a year early. At the end of that lesson, he announced that in their next lesson, they’d be learning how to fight off the Imperius curse.

Rumours circled around the school because just about every defence class in the third year and up had been told the same thing. Holly’s class, as a result of their somewhat unusual timetable for defence, were up first. People filed into the Defence classroom, nervously looking around. Moody sometimes liked to stage impromptu tests by jumping out of a hiding place and hexing people.

He was standing out in the open at the front of the classroom, however, so that was a good sign. Before Holly could sit down, Moody had cleared the desks and chairs away with a wave of his wand. They stacked themselves neatly against the sides of the classroom, and Moody grinned as people milled about in the centre of the room.

“Legally, neither I nor the school can make you take this lesson. You can walk out that door without losing anything related to your grades... but you’ll never know if you could do it,” Moody said.

“Do what?” Seamus Finnegan asked, looking very nervous.

“Resist the Imperius curse. What did you think we were doing today, Finnegan?” Moody said.

“Isn’t that, well, illegal professor?” Hermione asked.

“Usually. But how else do you think we ensure dark wizards can’t control the Aurors? But, Miss Granger, if you don’t want to learn this, you’re free to leave,” Moody said. Hermione gulped, but she stayed where she was. No one else wanted to object, and there was definitely no one who wanted to look weak by leaving.

One by one, the class was called up to the front and put under Moody’s control. Neville did gymnastics that he would clearly never have been able to do without the curse. Lavender stood up and talked about how divination was rubbish. Moody wasn’t able to get Hermione to suggest skipping class, but she wasn’t able to fully break out of his control, either.

Then it was Holly’s turn. She walked forward and emptied her mind. She prepared all the Occlumency she’d been taught, turning her mind into a maze of traps and dead ends. She felt someone brush against her mind, not trying to get in - merely inspecting her defences.

“Potter, the point is to try and resist the curse once it’s on you. Dark wizards won’t always give you the time to raise defences like that,” Moody said, but Holly could hear that he was impressed by her Occlumency.

“Sorry, professor,” Holly said, and let her mental defences drop. Moody gave her a nod, and then he pointed his wand at her.

“Imperio,” he said, calmly, and Holly felt a bizarre sensation wash over her. She felt utterly peaceful like all her worries had simply been washed away. She tried to think of her troubles, but they seemed to disappear whenever she focused on them. She felt a brief moment of frustration, but it disappeared beneath the sea of bland happiness she felt in an instant.

“Jump on the desk,” she heard in Moody’s voice. It sounded like a whisper and something heard a great distance all at once. Holly didn’t really want to jump on the desk - it sounded like a lot of effort, to her. She heard Moody repeat the instruction, and this time she felt something other than bland happiness.

With just that tiny foothold, she was able to focus her mind. The haze disappeared with a faint snapping sound, and she was herself again.

“Hah! I knew you’d do it, Potter. They won’t be controlling you, that’s for damn sure,” Moody said.

That afternoon, as Holly and her friends, were walking back from Care of Magical Creatures, they saw a huge crowd gathered in the Entrance Hall. Students of all ages and Houses were jostling for position, and Holly knew she’d never get a look past all the tall seventh years who had managed to elbow their way to the front.

“Ron, what’s going on?” Holly asked, and her lanky friend tried to see over the crowd.

“Something on the notice board, I think,” Ron said.

“Alright, you lot. If you’ve already read it, get a move on and let everybody else through,” Hagrid said, upon seeing the crowd as he walked through the Entrance Hall. Eventually, Holly was able to read the notice that had caused all the excitement.

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o’clock on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast.

All Quidditch Teams are to finalize their rosters with their Heads of House, as the first game (Slytherin vs Beauxbatons) will take place on Saturday the 31st.

Also taking place on that day is the First Year Round of the Duelling Competition. First Year Students wishing to compete should register with their Head of House.

“Potions ending half an hour early? I think I’m gonna enjoy this Tournament thing,” Ron said.

“Oh, that’s interesting. I imagine the Duelling Competition is based on the Durmstrang one,” Hermione said. Holly blinked.

“What do you mean?” Holly said. She’d only heard a few nasty rumours about Durmstrang.

“It’s famous - six of the last ten European Duelling Champions have won it when they were at school. Though I imagine they’ll be making a few rules changes... anyway, the way it works is that each year level has a separate knockout tournament, with the winner of each previous year level going on to the next year level’s tournament,” Hermione explained.

“Blimey, Holly. You could probably clean up at something like that,” Ron said.

“I wonder when the Fourth Year one will be. It sounds like it could be fun... I am kind of excited to see Slytherin get flattened by Beauxbatons, though” Holly said.

“Now that sounds like a real laugh,” Ron said.
The entire school talked about one thing and one thing only that week - the Triwizard Tournament. People talked about what the tasks would be, who would try and become Hogwarts’ Champion, and what the students from the other schools would be like. The teachers had transformed the school, putting every effort into making sure all the suits of armour were polished and squeak-free.

Holly only narrowly avoided a detention for her shoes not being polished enough, and she laughed as she saw Daphne Greengrass get one for her skirt being too short. She had to duck into a secret passage as McGonagall turned around, however, because her shirt was definitely not tucked in and her tie was loose.

On the morning of the other schools’ arrival, Holly saw that the Great Hall had been redecorated. Huge silk banners, one for each House and one for Hogwarts itself, hung from the walls. On either side of the Hogwarts banner were two still furled up banners of equal size - Holly could guess that they bore the crests of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons.

Extra seating had been added to the Quidditch Pitch, and half of it was done up in the pale blue and gold of Beauxbaton’s colours. The sense of excitement that had been building all week reached a fever pitch that morning, and everyone seemed to be waiting for classes to finish. Even Hermione looked restless in History of Magic, a class she usually prized as essential homework time.

When Snape begrudgingly let them go half an hour early, Holly and all her classmate crushed to their dorms to put their things away and get their cloaks. Ginny joined Holly, Ron, and Hermione, and the four of them headed downstairs in a hurry. They joined the sea of black-cloaked students walking through the Entrance Hall, and everyone seemed to have heard a different story for how the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were arriving.

Cormac McLaggen claimed that the Durmstrang students would be arriving on dragonback, whilst Lee Jordan said that the Ministry had made hundreds of portkeys to support the tournament.

As Holly joined the rest of the students in lining up outside the castle, she felt pretty sure that nobody would be arriving on dragonback. But, Holly thought, that would be really cool.

Chapter 47: Year Four, Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Text

“I think I see something!” Little Dennis Creevy said, pointing up into the dark sky. Holly’s eyes snapped up, along with everyone else in the crowd, and she thought she saw something moving between the dark clouds.

“Well spotted, Mr Creevy. Five points to Gryffindor - I do believe our guests from Beauxbatons have arrived first,” Dumbledore said, and even as he spoke the distant shape got closer and closer.

Excited whispers rippled through the crowd, nobody quite realising what the shape was. Many people had to have it pointed out to them, but Holly thought she had a good idea of what it was, now. Evidently, the Beauxbatons students were going to arrive in a carriage pulled by flying horses. Perhaps, Holly thought, it would be bigger on the inside - that sounded like the kind of thing wizards would do.

Then the carriage got closer, and Holly realised her estimate of the carriage’s size had been way off. Each of the dozen horses pulling the carriage was the size of an elephant, their wings beating with tremendous power. They were all the same light-blonde colour, which Holly was sure there was a fancy word for that she didn’t know, and their reins seemed to be made from a golden thread.

The carriage itself was the size of a small house and was painted a pale blue, with numerous golden accents and decorations. The largest of these was the two crossed-wands of Beauxbatons’ coat of arms, which Holly thought must each be taller than her. There were windows on the side of the carriage giving away its true size, and they glowed with soft orange light as the carriage came in to land.

The winged horses managed an impressively soft landing, seemingly without any human intervention. They walked gracefully along the ground until the gigantic carriage sat just opposite the crowd of Hogwarts students. A door, which despite being about twelve feet tall looked comically undersized, opened. A single boy in a uniform of pale blue silk jumped down and unfolded a set of golden steps.

The first person down the steps was a woman as tall as Hagrid, but with all the elegance and grace Holly’s friend lacked. The black satin of her dress, combined with a fortune in opals, added to Holly’s impression of the olive-skinned woman. The golden steps, despite looking as fragile as an antique chair, took even the truly titanic woman’s weight without so much as a groan.

Following her were two more adults - a witch and a wizard. The wizard wore finely made (if conventional) robes in a dark green colour. He had a head full of slicked-back brown hair, and a finely trimmed beard of the same colour. The witch wore dark leathers that Holly thought might have been dragonhide and had stark white hair despite her face looking young and vibrant. Her eyes were a distinctive yellow, and Holly thought she was very good looking. Not pretty, maybe, but handsome.
Then came the students, who all wore uniforms of pale blue silk that seemed much too light for the climate of Hogwarts. There were three distinct groupings of students that emerged from the carriage. One, the first to emerge, consisted of about a dozen boys and girls in their late teens. Holly quickly identified these as the prospective champions. Then came roughly a dozen first-year students, looking very cold and apprehensive as they joined their older fellows in lining up outside the castle. Last of all came a group of seven students, more mixed in age. These, Holly knew, must be one of the Beauxbaton’s teams competing in the Quidditch cup this year.

Dumbledore walked forward and kissed the very tall woman’s hand.

“My dear Madam Maxime, welcome to Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said, genuine warmth in his voice.

“It is good to see you, Dumbledore. It has been too long since we have spoken face to face - ah, but I must introduce my teachers to you. Ms Dumont, one of our Defence teachers and Mr Garnier, our head of Transfiguration,” Madam Maxime said, her French accent thick but understandable.

“A pleasure. I have quite enjoyed your articles on the mathematical limits of conjuration spells, Mr Garnier,” Dumbledore said. Holly saw the Beauxbatons’ transfiguration teacher blush, clearly pleased that Dumbledore had so much as heard of him. The defence teacher just smiled, her expression unreadable.

“Has Karkaroff arrived yet, Dumbledore?” Madam Maxime asked.

“Ah, I believe he is due promptly. Would you like to wait, or head on inside?” Dumbledore asked, but before Madam Maxime could answer waves began to disturb the surface of the Black Lake. Everyone turned to look, and Holly saw the very tip of a mast emerge from the waters of the lake.

“It’s a ship!” Holly said excitedly to her friends, and indeed the top of the mast was followed by a great black sail and then a forest of rigging. More sails joined it above the surface, and then all at once the rest of the ship surged up from the Black Lake. It was like something from a movie, Holly thought - a huge sailing ship with cannon ports and made entirely from black wood. Its sails bore Durmstrang’s crest, a huge double-headed eagle in red. The whole ship had an eerie look about it as if it had been raised from its resting place on the ocean floor.

People began to disembark, and as the delegation from Durmstrang approached everyone noticed one student in particular. Holly had only seen him up close in person once, in the MInister’s box after the Quidditch World Cup, but she recognised Viktor Krum on sight. He looked less graceful off a broom, his gait odd and slow, but there he was. The youngest seeker in the international competition, here at Hogwarts.

Holly felt a sudden sense of dread - would he fly for one of the Durmstrang Quidditch teams? She thought she was pretty good, but she knew she’d have no chance against someone like Krum. She could only hope that his status as a professional player would prevent him from risking injury in school games. Somehow, though, she didn’t think Viktor Krum would let that stop him.

“I had no idea he was still in school,” Ginny said, her voice awe-struck.

“No offence Holly, but I really hope we don’t have to fly against him,” Ron said.

“None taken. He’d flatten us in ten minutes,” Holly said.

“He’s only a Quidditch player. I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” Hermione said.

“Only a Quidditch player? Hermione, he’s the best Seeker in the world! Blimey, I bet every girl in the castle will take a shot at him,” Ron said.

“I don’t see why,” Hermione said primly.

“You don’t see why some people would be attracted to a handsome, fabulously wealthy, international celebrity?” Holly asked.

“Do Quidditch players make that much money? I can’t see how the wizarding economy could support it,” Hermione said.

“Lots of really rich blokes own all the clubs, and I think they make most of their money from stuff they still own in the muggle world. It’s a vanity thing, really,” Ron explained as everyone made their way back into the castle. The Durmstrang students, in their heavy furs, looked like they were much more suited to the climate than the Beauxbatons students.

Igor Karkaroff, the Durmstrang headmaster, was talking with Madam Maxime and Dumbledore as they walked back to the castle. Two Durmstrang teachers, both women, had arrived with the students and they seemed to be talking to the two Beauxbatons teachers and Professor McGonagall.

As they returned to the Great Hall, the Durmstrang students took seats on the Slytherin table whilst the Beauxbatons students sat with the Ravenclaws. The visiting teachers took seats on the Staff table, whilst the two Headmasters sat on either side of Dumbledore. There were two more guests on the Staff table that night - one was Ludo Bagman, looking a little less carefree than when Holly had last seen him, whilst the other was a slightly frazzled looking witch Holly had never seen before.

A silence fell over the great hall as the last students took their seats, everyone looking to Dumbledore. He smiled, and stood up.
“Good evening, ladies, gentlemen, ghosts, and all others - but most of all, to our guests this fine evening. It is my pleasure to welcome you all to Hogwarts, and I hope that you enjoy your stay. The tournament will be opened at the end of the feast, so let us all eat, drink, make ourselves at home before we begin such serious matters!” Dumbledore said, to general applause. One of the Beauxbatons students, a girl, gave a snort of derisive laughter.

“Nobody made you come,” Hermione said under her breath, as plates and platters filled with food as usual. What foods appeared, however, was very unusual. Holly recognised most of it, having been read most of Aunt Petunia’s recipe books out of boredom before she came to Hogwarts, but she thought most of the students (especially the purebloods) would find much of it strange.

She ladled herself some beef bourguignon and mashed potatoes and saw Ron looking at all the strange new foods a bit apprehensively. She was sure some of the dishes meant to represent Durmstrang might be a bit strange to him (and she recognised only a few of them). Even Hermione, who had been to most of Europe with her parents, seemed a bit puzzled at some of them.

“Try this Ron, you’ll like it,” Holly said, pointing to the rich beef stew she’d just ladled onto her plate. He got some, a little cautiously, but smiled as soon as he ate a bite.

“This stuff’s pretty good. How do you know about French food and stuff?” Ron asked.

“Aunt Petunia had books upon books about it, and never cooked any of it because my Uncle thought it was too foreign,” Holly said.

“Excuse me, but could you pass the Bouillabaisse?” a girl with a light French accent asked, and Holly turned around in her seat to see who had spoken. She was a Beauxbatons student, but looking at her up close Holly could see that she was stunningly beautiful. Her silvery blonde hair seemed to sparkle in the candlelight, and her face was almost too symmetrical.

“Oh, of course,” Hermione said, unaffected by what Holly was sure was a lesser type of Veela’s aura. Maybe the girl was only part Veela. Hermione passed her the bowl of fish and broth, rolling her eyes at the reaction of her friends.

“I’m telling you, that girl’s a Veela,” Ron said, after she’d gone back to the Ravenclaw table and was thus safely out of earshot in the noisy Great Hall.

“Really, Ronald?” Hermione said.

“I think he’s right, Hermione. Not a full Veela, though,” Holly said, and Hermione simply rolled her eyes.

“That girl looked like she’d just stepped off the front cover of Witch Weakley, Hermione,” Ginny said.

“She did seem a little airbrushed,” Holly said.

After everyone had eaten their fill, and the golden plates had been wiped clean by the magic of the House Elves, tension began to fill the room. People began to whisper and look around, and Holly heard whispers all around her. Dumbledore let them stew for a moment before he stood up once more.

“The time has come. Mr Filch, prepare the casket. The Triwizard Tournament is about to start, and while I’m sure we are all very excited, there are a few things that must be clarified first. Before that, let me introduce Mr Ludo Bagman and Mrs Janet Hull - heads of the Department of Magical Games and Sports and International Magical Cooperation, respectively,” Dumbledore said. Mr Bagman got much more applause than Mrs Hull, probably because he had once been a very good beater for the English national Quidditch team.

“They have worked tirelessly to bring this new, modern form of the Triwizard Tournament to life. It is Mr Bagman, in particular, we have to thank for the new events. Both of them will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime as judges for the efforts of the champions in the three tasks of the tournament,” Dumbledore said, and at the mention of the word ‘champions’ the entire hall seemed to go silent. Dumbledore smiled at that and waved Filch in.

Filch pushed a large wooden cart into the Great Hall. On it was a tall wooden chest, encrusted with gemstones and glowing silver runes. Everyone simply stared silently at it as Filch wheeled it up past the students.

“Each task has been reviewed by Mr Bagamn and Mrs Hull, and then approved by each Headmaster. There will be three tasks spread throughout the school year, each of which will have several events beforehand. These events will allow all students of a competing school to contribute to the success of their champion. What aid victory in these events grants will not be known until the task itself, but their nature will give something of a clue. This aid will only go so far - a Champion must be able to rely on their wits, their cunning, and most of all their bravery. All of these and more will be tested,” Dumbledore said, and what few whispers broke out seemed to fall entirely silent. Holly would have sworn she couldn’t hear anyone so much as breathe.

“Each school will have one champion, chose by an impartial magical judge - the Goblet of Fire!” As Dumbledore spoke, he tapped the chest with his wand. It seemed to become translucent for a moment, and Dumbledore withdrew a plain-looking wooden cup from within it. He set the cup down, and after each Headmaster tapped it with their wand, blue-white flames roared to life in it.

“Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours to place their names in the goblet - a strip of parchment will suffice. At this time on Halloween night, the Goblet will select three champions, and then go out for another three years. I will be drawing an age line to prevent any underage students from entering their names, though the Goblet will otherwise be freely accessible,” Dumbledore said, and Holly saw that the Weasley twins had a mischievous gleam in their eyes. She shook her head, sure that their plan would be a failure.

“To be chosen by the Goblet of Fire as a champion is, I warn you, a binding magical contract. There can be no withdrawal, no second thoughts if you are chosen. I therefore ask you to think seriously before entering your name... and warn those who are not of age that you will not be able to enter your name. You will have other chances to participate - but the dangers of the Tasks are too great for any but adult wizards and witches. Now, off to bed with you all!” Dumbledore said.

That night, Holly looked to her trunk; thinking of her invisibility cloak. She had a half dozen ideas to get her name in the Goblet, and a part of her wanted to enter. Her more sensible side won out, though, and she instead decided to stay up with the Marauder’s Map. Watching who put names into the Goblet would be entertaining enough, she thought.

Chapter 48: Year Four, Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Text

Holly watched the little names wander into the Great Hall one by one, laughing to herself every now and then. She saw quite a few students who were definitely not of age get thrown back from the Goblet, so she thought that Dumbledore’s age line had worked. She also saw what she was fairly certain was a much smarter method of trying to get a name in - having a House Elf drop it in.

At least, that’s what she thought seeing names like Kreacher and Hilly meant. She was distracted for a moment as she saw Dobby off cleaning something on the map, and when Holly looked back to the Great Hall she saw Karkaroff enter. Was there a rule against a Headmaster entering students’ names, Holly wondered?

Then the Defence Teacher from Beauxbaotns entered the Great Hall, approached the Goblet, and left. Holly rolled her eyes - at least Karkaroff had gone himself - and whispered the password to close the map. She hid it carefully amongst her things, blew out the candle on her bedside table, and went to sleep after seeing that.

The next morning was a Saturday, so Holly would usually have breakfast fairly late after a bit of a lie-in if she didn’t have Quidditch practice. She, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron weren’t alone in heading down to the Great Hall early, however. Plenty of people gathered around to watch people try and put their names into the Goblet. The Great Hall was already full of Halloween decorations for the night’s feast.

Everyone had quite the laugh when the Weasley twins were blasted backwards by Dumbledore’s age line, their ageing potions proving to be completely ineffective. Then they sprouted huge white beards, and they joined in on the laughter. Angelina Johnson, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, put her name in to thunderous applause from Holly and her friends.

“Here come the Beauxbatons students,” Hermione said, and as Holly turned around she saw all the Seventh-Year students from Beauxbatons following Madame Maxime into the Great Hall. One by one, they lined up and put their names into the Goblet. Holly frowned at that - whose name had the defence professor been entering then, she wondered?

She put the thought out of her mind, however, as everyone headed down to the Quidditch stadium. She wasn’t going to be a champion, so it didn’t really matter to her if Beauxbatons had fixed who they wanted their champion to be or something.

The First Year duelling competition happened before the match, and it wasn’t particularly exciting. A few purebloods tried very weak stunning spells to no effect while most of the duellists just shot jinxes or sparks at one another. One girl from Durmstrang had clearly learnt the disarming charm, and she easily cruised to victory by casting it every time.

Unfortunately, Slytherin won the match against one of the Beauxbatons teams. Not having houses, Beauxbatons organised its Quidditch teams based on the four largest wizarding settlements in France. Hermione informed them that the team Slytherin beat was named after the French equivalent of Diagon Alley.

After the match, and feeling down at seeing Slytherin win, Holly decided to go visit Hagrid. When he opened the door and let them into his hut, they were all shocked to see that not only was he wearing his best (and truly awful) hairy brown suit but that he had evidently tried to tame his hair.

“What’s with the new look, Hagrid?” Ginny asked as he started to make some tea.

“Well, you know how it is. Gotta look our best with all these foreign schools here,” Hagrid said, but he had never been a very good liar. Holly thought, blushing, that perhaps his real reasons had to do with the arrival of the only woman his size Holly had ever seen. “Anyway, eh, you looking forward to the Quidditch this year?” Hagrid asked, sounding very awkward.

“Should be brilliant. Although I’m not too sure about the Beauxbatons teams after today. Getting thrashed by the Slytherins, of all people,” Ginny said.

“I’m just hoping Krum won’t play for one of the Durmstrang teams,” Holly said.

“I reckon you’d be in a spot of trouble if he did!” Hagrid said, and they all laughed. They ended up having lunch at Hagrid’s, which included a “beef” casserole that tasted alright but had a few suspicious talons turn up. It seemed that the Blast-Ended Skrewts had been killing one another.

“What do you think Malfoy looks so down about?” Ron asked after they spotted the blonde-haired Slytherin on their way back to the castle. He was sitting out on the grounds, reading a letter, and he looked far too unhappy after his victory.

“Maybe Malfoy Senior refused to buy a Firebolt for every member of the Slytherin team, and some other rich pureblood has made them a better offer to be Seeker,” Ginny said.

“Whatever it is, I hope it gets worse,” Ron said, to general laughter.

“Hey, Holly!” shouted Fred, freshly shaved, as she walked back into the Entrance Hall.

“Hey, Fred, George,” Holly said, waving to the twins.

“What are we, chopped liver?” Ron asked.

“Ickle Ronniekins and our lovely little sister aren’t going to enter the tournament. We were just wondering if you’d put your name in?” George asked.

“I thought about trying to get past the age line, but even if I could... it sounds like a lot of danger for some gold and fame. Things I already have a bunch of... and besides, we’ll be busy enough with Quidditch this year,” Holly said.

“Probably smart. I reckon you’d do just as well as that Diggory, though,” Fred said.

“There’s nothing wrong with Cedric,” Hermione said.

“He’s a total prat,” Ron said.

“A good looking prat, though,” Holly said.

“That’s what Angelina said,” Fred said, and Holly laughed.

Holly spent the rest of the day finishing up her homework and then playing exploding snap and wizard’s chess in the Common Room after it started to rain. It was only a light downpour at first, but it steadily grew and grew until by the time Holly and her friends were heading down to the feast it was coming down in sheets.

The feast seemed to stretch out, everyone talking about who might become a champion and what the tasks would be. Lee Jordan swore that he had a reliable source for one of the tasks involving the champions fighting the giant squid. Ron suggested that McGonagall would make another giant chessboard, which Holly thought might actually be an interesting task but was unlikely to happen.

Eventually, after all the desserts were cleared away and the tables left bare save for golden goblets of pumpkin juice, Dumbledore stood up.

“Ah, finished with a minute to spare. The Goblet has almost reached a decision - so, Champions, when your name is called out, please come up here to the staff table and enter the next chamber,” Dumbledore said, waving his wand. All the candles floating in the air and within the various pumpkins placed as decoration went out at once, leaving only the bright blue flame of the Goblet to illuminate the Great Hall.

Then it burnt red for only a second, a bright crimson red, and Dumbledore plucked a singed pit of parchment from the air. Holly felt herself hold her breath in anticipation.

“The Champion for Durmstrang will be... Viktor Krum!” Dumbledore announced, and everyone in the Hall went crazy. Ron actually stood up and started clapping. All the Durmstang students were cheering, and Holly saw Karakorff smile for the first time since he’d arrived.

“No surprises there,” Ron said as he sat back down.

“Anyone who can pull off a Wronsky Feint that good can be a champion easy,” Ginny said.

The Goblet shot out another tongue of crimson fire, and Dumbledore caught the next bit of parchment as nimbly as he had the first. Holly thought, in a moment of bizarre levity, that he’d probably make a decent keeper.

“The Champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!”

“That’s that girl you thought was a Veela,” Hermione said, as one of the girls from Beauxbatons stood up.

“Part Veela. And Holly said I was right,” Ron said.

“Just because she’s good looking doesn’t make her a Veela,” Hermione said.

“The Veela at the world cup didn’t affect you, did they? Maybe if there were boy Veela who’d won Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award five times running...” Ginny said, snickering. Hermione blushed scarlet at the indirect mention of Lockhart.

“They don’t look as happy for her as Durmstrang did for Krum,” Holly said. Several of the Beauxbatons students were crying, and one boy looked like he was ready to get up and storm out.

Then, another flash of red fire heralded the Hogwarts Champion being chosen. Dumbledore grabbed the bit of singed parchment and smiled slightly.

“The Champion for Hogwarts is... Cedric Diggory!” Dumbledore said, and Holly was sure Ron had said something but she couldn’t hear it over the enormous roar the Hufflepuffs seemed to give as one. They stood and cheered, and Holly clapped a little herself. After what seemed to be quite a while, the applause had died down and Dumbledore was able to speak again.

“Good choice all around, I’m sure you would all agree. Those of you who were not selected, now that you can still help your sch-” Dumbledore began to say, only to be interrupted by another gout of crimson fire. Holly knew what it would read even before Dumbledore caught her gaze. She shook her head, and Dumbledore nodded once.

“Holly -” Dumbledore said, but before he had even finished reading out her name, the Goblet sent up a fifth blast of red fire, and then went out. Dumbledore grabbed the bit of parchment and seemed to compare the two for a moment.

Holly could see every head in the Great Hall turn to look at her. It felt like she was trapped in some bizarre joke - that she would become a champion because it was dangerous and thus surely it would happen to her.

“Holly Potter,” Dumbledore said, and Holly felt stuck to her seat. Surely Dumbledore didn’t want her to go up with the Champions - but then she remembered his words the previous night. If her name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, she was bound by a magical contract to compete.

Her hands were shaking underneath the table, and she felt like screaming. Why now, of all times, she despaired.

“I - I didn’t put my name in,” Holly said. She was met only with blank stares.

“Up here, please, Miss Potter,” Dumbledore said more forcefully, and Holly got up. She shoved her hands into her pockets so that no one could see them, and walked up to the staff table. People stared at her and whispered as she walked past, wondering how she’d done it. Draco Malfoy was staring at her wide-eyed, and the Hufflepuffs seemed to be mostly giving her death glares.

She felt glad that, when she heard the Gryffindors whisper, it was mostly about who could have put her name in. They might, Holly thought, have believed she put her name in once - but she’d have no reason to do it twice. Even just as she walked up to the staff table, she heard such varied theories as the Minister, Dumbledore, or Malfoy. Luna Lovegood, on the Ravenclaw table, suggested that the Rotfang conspiracy was behind it all.

“Go on in, Holly,” Dumbledore said, putting a hand on her shoulder. She nodded and walked past all the staring teachers, and into the chamber beyond.

It was full of comfortable couches and paintings of distinguished-looking witches and wizards. Cedric, Krum, and Fleur were all sitting in a rough circle on the various couches, talking to one another in low voices. They all looked up when she entered.

“What is it, do they want us back in the Hall?” Fleur asked, but Holly saw Cedric’s eyes go wide as Holly got close enough that the low candlelight illuminated her face.

“Holly?” he asked, and she nodded slowly. Dumbledore, Karkaroff, Maxime, Bagman, and Hull all entered the room behind Holly, and Bagman seemed to be thrilled with the turn of events.

“How extraordinary! Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the Fourth Triwizard Champion - Holly Potter!”

Chapter 49: Year Four, Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Text

“That’s a funny joke, Mr Bagman,” Fleur said, and she started to laugh only to stop as she saw the expression of Madame Maxime’s face. The huge headmistress was not happy. Viktor and Cedric mostly seemed to look confused at what was going on.

“Joke? No, Miss Potter’s name just came out of the Goblet - twice!” Bagman said.

“But - but there has been a mistake! This little girl is too young!” Fleur said, and Holly bristled. What had Fluer done that compared to killing a Basilisk or duelling a Death Eater?

“Indeed, Dumbledore there cannot be two Hogwarts champions - such a thing is intolerable!” Madame Maxime said.

“If I had known underage students were to compete anyway, I would have brought along a far wider selection of potential champions,” Karkaroff said.

“Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, Holly?” Dumbledore asked calmly, ignoring the other two headmasters for the moment.

“No, I didn’t - sir, why would I?” Holly asked.

“Ten thousand galleons and a shot at eternal glory sound like reason enough for some spoiled little girl-” Fleur began, only to be interrupted by Moody speaking up.

“Were you born stupid, or did someone hit you on the head on your way over from France. Potter’s got enough gold to never work a day in her life and more fame than she could ever want. Add to that the dark magic that would be needed to influence the Goblet...” Moody said, and Dumbledore held up a hand.

“Enough, Alastor. Miss Delacour is understandably upset. I’m sure she meant nothing by her comments. Did you have someone else put your name in, Holly?” Dumbledore asked.

“No. Besides, even if I had put my name in and confounded the Goblet into giving me my own school or something, why would I do it twice?” she asked.

“A good point, lass,” Moody said.

“She cannot compete, Dumbledore - two Hogwarts champions is an affront to the Tournament,” Karkaroff said.

“It’s all a terrible turn of events, but the rules are clear, I’m afraid,” Mrs Hull said.

“Oh - I suppose the British Ministry is going to give Hogwarts a second champion?” Madame Maxime said.

“Please, Madame Maxime - the rules quite clearly state that any champion whose name comes out of the Goblet must compete. They are bound to, by a binding magical contract,” Hull said.

“How can I be bound by a contract I had nothing to do with?” Holly asked.

“The Goblet of Fire is old magic, lass. If it considered whoever entered you to have some kind of authority over you... it might allow them to enter you. Like Karkaroff and Dupont were doing last night,” Moody said.

“Ms Dupont was merely putting in the names of students who could not make the trip but still wanted to enter their names,” Madame Maxime said icky.

“As was I - Dumbledore, are you really going to allow this man to harras me over-” Karkaroff started to say, but Moody interrupted him.

“Over that little problem you had with Ministry about being a Death Eater?” Moody said, and Holly’s eyes went wide. Karkaroff flushed and looked like he might draw his wand and start cursing Moody. Moody, Holly thought, looked like he hoped Karkaroff would.

“Now, now gentlemen let’s not get too agitated. Mrs Hull is right - Potter has to compete... but once or twice?” Bagman asked.

“Once or twice?” Holly said, feeling confused.

“Well, your name did come out twice - does she have to attempt each task twice, or will one attempt per task satisfy the Goblet?” Bagman said.

“Just the once should satisfy the magic of the Goblet, I’m sure,” Mrs Hull said.

“She should still be punished for this blatant cheating - I shall be writing to the ICW about this, Dumbledore,” Madame Maxime said.

“Do you really think a fourteen-year-old Witch, no matter how talented, could cast a Confundus charm powerful enough to hoodwink that Goblet, Madame Maxime? Got any of your Fourth Year students you’d like to see have a crack at it?” Moody said.

“But why would someone enter her if it was not on her instruction?” Fleur asked.

“Because this Tournament is dangerous enough for an adult witch or wizard. Potter has plenty of enemies who’d like to see her meet a grizzly end,” Moody said.

“You would see some dark plot in this,” Karkaroff muttered.

“I really didn’t have anything to do with my name coming out of the Goblet. Go get Snape’s supply of Veritaserum and I’ll take all of it you want, and the answer will still be the same,” Holly said, angrily.

“I hardly think that will be necessary, Miss Potter. Unless either of you has an alternative to offer, Miss Potter will have to compete,” Dumbledore said, turning towards Karkaroff and Madame Maxime. They both looked like they were very angry, but they stayed silent.

“Well... let’s get on with business, shall we? The First Task is all about testing your courage in the face of the unknown, so no hints! It’ll be on November the Twenty-Fourth, and you won’t be allowed any help from your teachers. You’ll face it armed only with your wands..m am I forgetting anything?” Bagman said.

“That they’re exempt from end-of-year exams, owing to the time demands of the tournament,” Mrs Hull said.

“Oh, yes. Guaranteed ‘o’ for you on your NEWTs, Cedric... and, er, whatever it is that you do over there,” Bagman said, gesturing at Fleur and Krum. After that, the meeting began to break up, Karkaroff and Madame Maxime led their champions away, whilst Dumbledore, Hull, and Bagman all went up to his office for a nightcap.

Holly found herself alone with Cedric, and she didn’t know quite what to say. She felt awkward around him and desperately tried not to blush at being alone with him.

“Looks like we’re playing against each other again, eh?” Cedric said, and Holly breathed a sigh of relief at his friendly tone.

“I guess, yeah,” Holly said as they walked through the now deserted Great Hall.

“Did you put your name in?” Cedric asked, seriously.

“I really didn’t,” Holly said, finally able to look at Cedric.

“Okay, I believe you. Be a bit silly to do it twice, I suppose,” Cedric said. “This is me... may the best champion win, eh Potter?” Cedric said, and he offered her his hand. Holly shook it.

“Yeah. Good luck, Cedric,” Holly said, and then she headed up to Gryffindor Tower. Would anyone but her friends believe that she hadn’t entered her own name, she wondered. As she ascended the many steps of the Grand Staircase, her mind angered to darker subjects. Who had put her name in the Goblet? Was it someone who just wanted to see her lose, or was it someone who wanted to see her die?

She’d seen more than enough people on the Map who might be behind it get near the Goblet. Karkaroff had apparently been a Death Eater, and Dupont was both French and a yellow-eyed witch - just like one of the Emmisaires she’d seen in her vision. And, of course, she’d seen enough House-Elves get near the Goblet to be working for half a dozen different people.

She was brought out of her stew of suspicions by the Fat Lady asking her for the password.

“Balderdash,” Holly said distractedly, and she walked into Gryffindor Common Room not knowing what to expect. She was almost knocked off her feet by the blast of noise that hit her as she walked through the portrait hole. It seemed that there were a dozen people trying to pat her on the back, and she could hardly hear anything over all the cheering and whistling.

Holly moved through the crowd and found an empty chair to stand on. Everyone turned to look at her, and silence fell on the room.

“Look, I know you’re all happy I got chosen, but I didn’t put my name in,” Holly said. Fred and George exchanged knowing glances with her, and Holly rolled her eyes.

“Sure you didn’t, mate,” Lee Jordan said with an exaggerated wink.

“I didn’t! Do you think I’d be dumb enough to put my name in twice if I had fixed it?” Holly shouted, and that got people to listen.

“If you didn’t put your name in, who did?” Ron asked. His tone was almost accusatory.

“I dunno - but Dumbledore thinks they were probably trying to get to me,” Holly said, hoping that the headmaster’s word would give her some added credibility.

“Wait, Dumbledore thinks it’s a set-up?” Fred asked.

“Do you have to compete, then?” George asked.

“It’s magically binding, apparently. But, look... whoever entered me used some trick to make sure I got selected as a fourth champion. I wouldn’t do that - if I’d have entered my name, I’d have done it fair and square, yeah?” Holly said. Ron slowly nodded.

“I thought that the Goblet just got confused because you were underaged, or something,” Ron said.

“Moody said someone confunded it... someone really powerful. I’m glad you’re all excited for me, and I’ll take all the help I can get, but...” Holly said, unsure what to say.

“Party’s still on, but let’s give our champion some space, yeah?” Fred said, and he, George, and Lee Jordan made a little space for Holly near the fire. People soon resumed the party, but whilst Holly had a half dozen butterbeers passed to her, people seemed content to only occasionally cheer her name. Perhaps the firewhiskey Fred and George started passing out to the older Gryffindors had something to do with that.

“If you really did put your name in, you can tell me, you know?” Ron said to her quietly.

“I thought about it. Even worked out a plan to get past the age-line I was sure would work... but I decided that I’d rather someone else have an exciting year for once,” Holly said, laughing.

“Well, that was a bit stupid, wasn’t it?” Ron said.

“Sorry to say I have to agree with my brother on that one,” Ginny said.

“I reckon I’ll need all of you to help me, you know. Cedric and the other Champions are all Seventh Years, and I bet Maxime and Karkaroff are going to be helping their Champions despite the rules,” Holly said.

“Whatever you need, mate. We’re gonna bring this home for Gryffindor,” Ron said.

“You know, I bet there’s gonna be a chess competition as part of one of the events. Maybe you’ll get me one of McGonagall’s enchanted chess pieces as a buddy or something,” Holly said. She knew Ron got jealous sometimes, but she thought making keeper and her being a girl had softened the sting a little.

“You think? Imagine that White Queen smashing Diggory into paste,” Ron said.

“Ron!” Hermione said, and Ron flushed. Holly was vividly remembering Hermione’s boggart.

“Sorry, Hermione. So - if you didn’t put your name in, who did?” Ron asked.

“So when I decided not to put my name in, I may have stayed up and watched the Great Hall on the map...” Holly said, and she began to explain what she’d seen last night.

“So it might the French lady, Karkaroff - who may have been a Death Eater - or someone using an Elf?” Ginny summarised.

“Is it really dangerous enough to go through all this effort to get you?” Ron asked.

“Lots of champions - especially younger champions- have died in the past, Ron,” Hermione said.

“Firewhiskey, Holly?” George asked, holding a tiny little glass out to her.

“... sure,” Holly said. Her night had already been crazy enough, trying the wizarding alcohol couldn’t be that bad.
“Holly!” Hermione whispered, but Holly had already taken the tiny glass and downed it. It burned going down her throat and tasted awful.

“Merlin, why do people like that stuff,” she gasped, sputtering. Hermione laughed loudly, and then after a moment so did Ron and Ginny.

“How would you have tried to get past the age line, anyway?” Ron asked.

“I was gonna just ask Angelina to do it... and judging by the questions Dumbledore asked me, that might have worked,” Holly said.

“You’re joking,” Ron said. “Merlin, do I feel like an idiot. I thought you had some spell or something,”

Holly went to sleep that night worried, but as she tossed and turned she started to feel something strange - excitement. Despite the danger, there was a part of her looking forward to trying to win the Triwizard Tournament.

Chapter 50: Year Four, Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Text

Holly gave Hedwig an owl treat and then finished tying her letter to Sirius to Hedwig’s leg. Her owl hooted at her, nuzzled her hand a little, and leapt into the air.

“You guys didn’t need to come with me,” Holly said to Ron and Ginny, who had made the early morning walk to the Owlery with her.

“Three Hufflepuffs tried to hex you on the way here mate, and some of them were pretty nasty,” Ron said.

“I can handle schoolyard jinxes. But that was a nice deflection on the last one, Ron,” Holly said. Ron blushed a little and looked awkward.

“Well, it wasn’t very sporting of Ernie Macmillan to try and get you in the back, was it,” Ron said, as the three of them walked down from the owlery.

“Think you’re some kind of hero, Potter? Always trying to get in the news... what’s with the weasel - is he your boyfriend or something?” Thomas Avery, a burly seventh year, said. He had a few other older Slytherins with him, and the corridor was deserted. Holly gripped her wand in her pocket.

“Ron’s not my boyfriend. What’s your problem, Avery? Didn’t you call Diggory an obnoxious little twerp just last week - now you’re his biggest fan?” Holly replied.

“This isn’t about the Tournament, you little psycho,” Avery said, taking his wand from his pocket. His friends did the same.

“Then what is it about, Avery, or are you just that eager to get yourself hexed?” Holly asked. Ron had his wand out now too and was looking around at the number of older Slytherins backing Avery up nervously.

“Holly, mate...” Ron said, putting a hand on her arm.

“You know what you did,” Avery said, and Holly realised for the first time just how angry he was. He wasn’t shouting or screaming, but behind his eyes was a cold, dangerous rage.

“I really don’t. I’m going to be honest with you Avery - I’ve never so much as thought about you before today,” Holly said. Then she saw it.

Before one of Avery’s friends could complete the wand motion for his silent hex, Holly cast a nonverbal disarming charm and plucked his wand out of the air. He went stumbling backwards from the force of the spell, and Holly whirled around to deflect Avery’s instant scalping hex. The bolt of red light bounced off of her shield charm and hit another of his friends.

The long-haired Slytherin girl shrieked as all her hair started to fall out, but Avery ignored her and fired off a cutting charm at Holly. Ron deflected it and started firing stunners at Avery.

“This doesn’t concern you, Weasley! ON account of your blood, I’ll let you leave if you know what’s good for you,” Avery snarled.

“You’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m going to let you hurt my friend! Stupefy!” Ron said.

Holly deflected another hex from Avery, stunned the now bald Slytherin girl, and turned her wand back on Avery. He had only two people still up fighting with him now, and they both looked very nervous. Avery was struggling to hold back tears. Holly felt... something, and instinctively she knew what he was going to cast.

Before she could even begin to move, ropes coiled around Avery and his two remaining companions. Holly heard the distinctive, discordant gait of Mad-Eye Moody come round the corner. How, she wondered, hadn’t she heard him sooner.

“You’re damn lucky I report to Dumbledore and not the Minister, now, boy. Otherwise, you’d have a cell waiting for you. Dumbledore on the other hand has some damn fool notion about redemption and grief,” Moody said, putting his wand away.

Avery started to cry, and Holly felt like she had done something wrong. What had she done to this boy she’d never so much as talked to before?

“Potter-” Avery began, but Moody didn’t let him talk.

“Potter didn’t kill your father, brat. His own out of control curse did that... a curse he was using to terrorise and kill innocents, mind you,” Moody said. Holly finally understood, and she felt sick. Was Thomas Avery the son of the Death Eater she’d killed with his own Fiendfyre?

“Let’s get going, Holly,” Ron said, and she made a noise of agreement numbly. She couldn’t get the sight of Thomas Avery’s crying face out of her mind all day, and she wandered around as if she was in a daze.

Just before dinner, Holly was alone on the bridge. She didn’t feel all that hungry, and she didn’t want to face the adoration of her house or the hatred of the rest of the school all that much.

“It’s a lovely view, Potter,” Moody said, and Holly whirled around. How had he snuck up on her like that?

“How do you keep sneaking up on me with that leg?” Holly asked.

“Simple silencing charming on my feet, lass. Are you alright?” Moody asked.

“I’m fine. Just not particularly hungry,” she said.

“That’s crap, Potter. Thinking about Avery?” Moody asked. She didn’t respond, but she didn’t need to. “You know, I could tell you things about his father that’d send you running to the hills. But you already knew he was a murderous bastard,” Moody said.

“I didn’t need to kill him,” Holly said, very quietly.

“Maybe. But he’d already escaped justice once,” Moody said.

“I - that doesn’t make it easier to look at his son,” Holly said.

“I don’t have an easy answer, Potter. But if you want to talk...” Moody said. The sun began to touch the horizon, throwing orange light across the bridge.

“I think I’m good, professor. For now, anyway,” Holly said, and she headed back into the castle. Her friends would be worried if she missed dinner.

The next few days were rough for Holly. It seemed that everyone other than the Gryffindors was firmly on the side of her having put her name in. The Slytherins hated her, of course, but the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were unusually vicious towards her. The only Ravenclaw who was so much as polite to Holly was Luna Lovegood, who told Holly that she believed her about someone else entering her name into the Goblet of Fire.

Ministry Aurors arrived on Tuesday, casting forensic spells all over the Goblet and conducting interviews. Nobody talked to Holly about what they’d found, but other than confirming that she hadn’t put her name into the Goblet, she was sure they hadn’t found much. Even her suspicions weren’t all that strong - Karkaroff was probably just putting Krum’s name in, and Dumont had a legitimate reason to have been there too.

Holly could hardly accuse her of being a dark witch in league with Voldemort on the basis of her eye colour and accent. Yellow eyes were unusual, but Dumont wasn’t even the only teacher at Hogwarts with them - Madam Hooch’s eyes were just as vivid.

Outside of double potions, Pansy Parkinson started to hand out badges proclaiming Cedric Diggory to be the real Hogwarts champion. They changed between that and saying ‘Potter Stinks’, which Holly thought was a low water mark for Pansy’s barbs.

“Like them, Potter?” Pansy asked, clearly trying and failing to stop herself from cackling.

“Oh, very clever Pansy. Did you write those insults yourself, or did you get Crabbe and Goyle to handle that part for you?” Hermione said.

“Want one, Granger? I’ll have to throw it to you, though. Don’t want to get mudblood slime all over me,” Pansy said, waving one of the badges at Hermione.

“Leave it, Pansy,” Draco said, worriedly.

“What, Draco, but -” Pansy said, but he said something to her in a low voice and she went white. Holly was about to say something, but Snape arrived around the corner, his black cloak flapping as though a strong wind was blowing.

“Miss Parkinson, kindly keep your... badge making activities confined to non-class time. Potter, you’re wanted on the fifth floor. Tournament business,” Snape said, the most wors he’d spoken to Holly in a year. She blinked, a little unsure of what had just happened.

“Well? Get on with it,” Snape said, and Holly left her things with Hermione and headed up to the fifth floor. There was a small sign on the exit from the Grand Staircase, saying “Weighing of the Wands This Way”. Holly thought that was probably where she needed to go, so she followed the chain of signs into a classroom she’d never been in before.

All the other champions were there, along with Ludo Bagman, though not Mrs Hull As well as Bagman, a witch Holly had never seen in person was there along with a man holding a camera.. Rita Skeeter, wearing bright green robes, was standing with the other adults with a bored expression on her face.

“Ah, there she is! In you come, Holly - just the wand weighing ceremony, nothing to worry about,” Bagman said, as he led Holly over to the other champions.

“Wand weighing?” Holly asked, confused.

“Oh, the expert’s up with Dumbledore now. Just to check that your wand is in good working order, a little photo shoot for the press...” Bagman said.

“On that topic, my dear Ludo, might I borrow our youngest champion - add a little colour, you know,” Skeeter said, putting her hands on Holly’s shoulders.

“Oh, we should have plenty of time - if Holly has no objections, of course,” Bagman said.

“I guess that’s fine?” Holly said, not really sure of her answer.

“Good, follow me, dearie,” Skeeter said, steering Holly into a nearby broom cupboard. She sat down opposite Holly, putting her snakeskin handbag down and retrieving a lime-green quill and a piece of parchment from it. “Don’t mind me using a quick quotes quill?” Skeeter asked.

“That’s alright, Ms Skeeter,” Holly said. She was unsure how to talk to the magical reporter, so she defaulted to politeness.

“Oh, do call me Rita dear. Ms Skeeter was my mother!” Skeeter said. Holly saw the lime green quill write something on the parchment, which Rita tore off. “So, Holly, rumours are swirling - did you really enter your name in the goblet?” Skeeter asked.

“I didn’t put my name in, as I’m sure the Aurors who came and investigated would be happy to tell you,” Holly said.

“Well, you wouldn’t have bungled it and had your name come out twice, would you! Order of Merlin at thirteen, your heroics in confronting dark wizards - do you think you’re more qualified than Dingby to be the Hogwarts Champion?” Skeeter asked Holly, the quill writing rapidly out of Holly’s sight.

“It’s Diggory Ms - Rita. And Cedric’s who the Goblet chose to be Hogwarts’s champion. Whoever entered me did so under a different school... two different schools,” Holly said.

“Oh, you wouldn’t want to say a word against him, of course. He’s quite the handsome lad, isn’t he - is there a romance brewing amongst the champions?” Skeeter said.

“There’s - there’s nothing going on between me and Cedric,” Holly said, blushing. Not, she thought, that she would mind if there was.

“You’re quite the unusual witch, so excuse me if this is an insensitive question... but do you like handsome strapping lads like Diggleby, or are buxom vixens like the part-veela girl more your thing?”

“I - I don’t think that’s really appr-” Holly began, but Skeeter interrupted her.

“Or both maybe - that would fit your daring rebel image, wouldn’t it? And you are a Quidditch player... you know what they say about the Harpies,” Skeeter said, and Holly blushed deeply. She did know what people said about the Holyhead Harpies, and about Gryffindor’s chasers.

Before Holly could respond, the door of the broom cupboard was pulled open. Dumbledore, Olivander - the wandmaker - and the other Headmasters were standing there.

“A pleasant surprise to see you, Dumbledore. How are you - I hope you saw my piece on the ICW conference this summer?” Skeeter said, as her quill and parchment seemed to vanish back into her handbag at great speed.

“Enchantingly nasty as always, Rita. Now, if you will release Miss Potter, we have a ceremony to attend?” Dumbledore asked.

Holly felt like she’d just been saved from something, though she wasn’t sure what it was. Still feeling a little windswept, she followed the others back into the classroom.

Chapter 51: Year Four, Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Text

“Hmmm... rosewood, nine and a half inches. Fine wood, from - ah, I’m getting sidetracked. The core is the unusual thing. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard this particular song before,” Ollivander said quietly, as he examined Fluer’s wand.

“It is Veela hair. One of my grandmother’s,” Fleur said proudly.

“Oh, of course. Such familial connections make for powerful, loyal wands. But I think this must not have been purchased, no?” Ollivander said.

“You are correct, Mr Ollivander. My great-grandfather is -” Fleur began.

“You’re one of those Delacours? My dear girl, do say hello to Jacques for me. It has been too long since we’ve seen one another... to think I didn’t recognise his work right away. Yes, your wand is in fine working order, Miss Delacour,” Ollivander said, handing Fleur’s wand back to her.

“Mr Krum next, I think,” Bagman said, gently steering Ollivander over to Krum. The elderly wandmaker looked to Holly like he was about to roll his eyes. Still, he took Krum’s wand and cast a few minor spells with it, nodding as he did so.

“This is a Gregorovich, isn’t it? He always did make them a little thick for my tastes - but still, good, fine work. Hornbeam and dragon heartstring. You must be a man of singular passion to have commanded the loyalty of this wand, Mr Krum,” Ollivander said, smiling at Krum.

“Thank you, Mr Ollivander,” Krum said a little awkwardly.

“Now Mr Diggory, yes that will work well. One of my own creations, of course,” Ollivander said, moving over to Cedric. He took his wand and cast a few spells, conjuring songbirds and refilling the water in his goblet.

“It’s served me well, over the years,” Cedric said.

“I should hope it has - the unicorn whose tail hair resides in its core nearly gored me! Well, you’ve taken good care of it, and it is in good working order... which leaves us just with Miss Potter’s wand,” Ollivander said, approaching Holly as he spoke. She went still as she remembered the first time she had seen the wandmaker, and what he’d told her about her wand. She knew that if he repeated that here, Rita Skeeter would print it so fast it might still make the evening edition.

“I - I suppose it does, yeah,” Holly said nervously.

“Phoneix feather and holly... how appropriate. One of my finer works, I think. I understand, from what I’ve read in the papers, the phoenix whose feathers give your wand its core has been of aid to you?” Ollivander asked.

“Fawkes helped me during - well, down in the Chamber of Secrets,” Holly said.

“Excellent, excellent. You have certainly put it through its paces, but this was not a wand made for display. It should give you loyal service so long as you have need of it,” Ollivander said, looking from Holly to Dumbledore somewhat oddly.

“Well, that’s excellent news. All in working order - not that I really expected... anyway, time for photos!” Bagman said. Getting all the photos Rita wanted took a very long time, and Holly even began to feel a little sorry for Rita’s cameraman as he tried in vain to get her and Madame Maxime in the same shot.

Krum seemed to dislike being photographed as much as Holly did, though unfortunately, Rita had far more pictures taken of the two of them than she had of Cedric and Fleur. Holly felt like she ought to have put makeup on or done something with her uniform, but there was nothing she could do by the time she learnt photos would be taken.

Dinner was contentious that night. The Gryffindors were as welcoming as ever, but Holly could feel the rest of the school staring at her as she ate her roast chicken. Thomas Avery seemed to be stewing in his anger on the Slytherin table, determinedly not looking at her.

“What did they want with you, anyway?” Ron asked.

“Just some weird ceremony about checking if our wands worked. Then I got ambushed by Rita Skeeter,” Holly said.

“Eugh, that woman is vile, Holly. Have you seen what she’s written in the Daily Prophet about - well, about anything?” Hermione asked.

“Not really, but after meeting her I’d believe it,” Holly said.

Later that night, just as she was sitting down in a comfy chair in the Gryffindor common room an owl tapped its talons against the window.

“It’s for you, Holly!” Dean shouted, and Holly reluctantly stood up and walked over to the window. The envelope was indeed addressed to her, but there was something heavy inside it. She knew that the wards on the castle prevented anything too dangerous from being sent in the mail, so Holly opened the envelope up.

Inside was a letter from her godfather, and a small mirror. She took out the letter first, and read it.

Dear Holly

Dumbledore owled me right away, but it was good to hear about the Tournament from you anyway. Remus and I looked into getting the contract Unbound, but several Curse Breakers we’ve talked to all agreed that it was probably too dangerous to try. As mad as it sounds, competing honestly is probably your safest choice.

The mirror included with this letter used to belong to your father - it’s a two-way mirror we used to talk to each other when one of us was in detention. I have the other half - merely ask for me by name and we should be able to talk to one another face to face.

There are things we need to talk about that suit that better than a letter.

Sirius

Holly grinned as she read the letter. She’d had no idea that something like the two-way mirror was even possible. She also wasn’t all that surprised that getting out of the Goblet’s contract would be as dangerous as competing - or even more so.

Ron and Hermione were busy playing chess, and Ginny was talking to some girls from her year, so Holly decided to go up to her dorm room. She closed the curtains on her bed, and took out the mirror from the envelope.

“Sirius Black,” she said, and her own reflection in the slightly dirty glass of the mirror seemed to dissolve. In her place, she saw the ceiling of Grimmauld Place’s kitchen. She heard someone approach, and Sirius picked the mirror up.

“Merlin, it’s good to see you, Holly. How’re you holding up?” Sirius asked.

“I’m - I’m alright, I guess. Half the school hates me for upstaging Cedric, but that’s nothing new,” Holly said.

“They’ll come around eventually. What about you, though? I know you’re not exactly one to scare easily, but the Tournament is...” Sirius said, trialling off.

“I know it’s dangerous, but... the stupid thing is I was this close to sneaking down and trying to put my name in. Is it wrong I almost want to compete?” Holly asked.

“I know I would have, at your age. Don’t take any risks you don’t have to... but Dumbledore seemed pretty confidant you could handle the tasks,” Sirius said.

“Really? Did he tell you anything about them?” Holly asked.

“You know Dumbledore - even when Maxime and Karkaroff are cheating like dogs he insisted on not telling me anything about them. Just... keep your wits about with Karkaroff, yeah? He might have managed to slip out of Azkaban, but he was a Death Eater,” Sirius said.

“I will, Sirius,” Holly said, and there was silence for a moment. There were things Holly wanted to say, but she didn’t know how to. She had never had someone like Sirius or Remus in her life before.

“You know you can talk to me, if you need to. Or Remus, if you’re feeling like getting some decent advice instead of my crap,” Sirius said.

“I know,” Holly said, instead of telling Sirius about her encounter with Thomas Avery. Her sleep that night was disturbed by nightmares, though thankfully they faded from her memory in moments after she woke.

The next morning, an owl brought her a copy of the Daily Prophet as usual. She would normally glance at the headlines and then skip to the sports section to read about the Quidditch, but she saw that Rita Skeeter’s article about the champions was on the front page. There was a moving photograph of Holly and Krum, and two much smaller photos of all four champions.

Showdown at Hogwarts? Bulgaria’s Star Seeker vs Britain’s Girl Hero for the Triwizard Cup!

Holly Potter and Viktor Krum are more alike than their appearances would suggest. Both have a strong rebel spirit, and a surprising shyness when it comes to the press. To see them in their element, you would never guess that they both are nervous when it comes to interviews and press photographs. How could someone fearless enough to run towards danger like they do be nervous when confronted by as unthreatening a figure as this reporter?

It’s sometimes hard to remember that our heroes are merely human. But that’s what I saw when I met both champions this week at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Viktor Krum is a soft-spoken and sensitive boy of seventeen who seems almost awkward on his own two feet instead of a broom. Holly Potter seems to be just like any other fourth-year girl, blushing at the suggestion that she has a love life.

But even when they’re just like us, these two titans are unique. When I asked Viktor Krum what he was looking for in a witch, he surprised me by saying that the thing he values most of all is intelligence and personality - and he meant it! Holly Potter wouldn’t give me any direct answers (though this reporter has her suspicions about her and the other Hogwarts Champion, Cedric Dingleby), but she would reveal that she is interested in both Witches and Wizards!

For more from that interview, see this week’s edition of ‘Witch Weekly’. I also had the chance to speak to the other two champions, Cedric Diggleby and Fleur Delocur. Cedric is a Hufflepuff in his Seventh Year, and also a Seeker for his house team, whilst Fleur seems to have been selected for her looks, not her mind.

For a detailed breakdown of each Champion’s skills, see page three. For betting odds, check the sports section.

“That - if I ever get my hands on that bitch,” Holly said. What Skeeter had said about her was bad enough, but the way she’d treated Cedric and Fleur was awful. How could the woman get her articles published on the front page of the newspaper and not be able to spell Cedric’s name right?

“I told you she’s completely awful. There’s not really much you can do, though,” Hermione said.

“You’re probably right. You want to look at the sports section, Ron?” Holly asked. Ron shook his head - the Chudley Cannons had lost too badly for him to want to read about it.

That night, Holly met Dumbledore in his office. He’d said at the end of their last meeting that they would be learning something other than Occulmancy tonight, and Holly was excited. It wasn’t that being able to protect her mind was bad, but it wasn’t very exciting.

“Ah, Holly. You haven’t suffered too greatly from Rita’s poison quill?” Dumbledore asked.

“I’ll be fine, Professor,” she replied.

“Excellent. Tonight we shall turn our studies from the cerebral arts of mind magic to something a little more... dramatic. If you would take my hand?” Dumbledore asked. Holly took it, and then she felt like she was being squeezed through a very tight tube. All she could see was whirling colours until she found herself somewhere very different from Dumbledore’s warm office.

She and the headmaster seemed to be standing on a large and utterly barren rocky island, just barely in sight of the shore. The sea swirled around the island, dark and cold, and the wind made Holly shiver.

“Did we really need to come all the way out here, professor?” she asked.

“I’m afraid that the grounds are rather too flammable for the content of our lesson today, Holly. Now, if you are ready - let us begin,” Dumbledore said, and he took out his own wand.

“Um, sir... what am I learning?’ Holly asked. Whatever it was had to be destructive if they’d come to such a desolate place to learn it, Holly thought.

“We will be learning about fire... both how to conjure it, and how to control it. Many spells make use of it, and it is a common danger that those of us who lead more adventurous lives face,” Dumbledore said. Holly felt the smallest shake in her hand.

“Cool,” she said, putting the image of the Death Eater being consumed by Fiendfyre out of her mind. It refused to stay away for all that long, but Holly soon found the excitement of the lesson was enough to make her forget it for a while.

Dumbledore taught Holly all about how to conjure and control magical fire, covering everything from using whips of fire in a duel to putting out a burning building. With only one student, who seemed to drink up whatever he taught her, Dumbledore jumped from spell to spell with great speed.

Holly wasn’t able to match the huge firestorms Dumbledore could conjure, but she had most of the spells down well enough. She could call up whips of fire to attack, summon huge gouts of it to deal with creatures, and protect herself and others from magical, if not cursed, fire.

It was an odd choice for their first lesson on ‘practical’ magic, Holly thought, but she wasn’t complaining.

Chapter 52: Year Four, Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Text

A week before the First Task, Holly found herself wishing her invisibility cloak was a little warmer. She was waiting in the pitch darkness by the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and she was sure midnight had come and already gone.

“Why’d Hagrid have to ask me to sneak out this late, anyway,” Holly said under her breath to no one. She muttered another warming charm, but there was only so much she could do against the bitterly cold wind blowing eerily through the forest. She could feel its currents even when she wasn’t transformed now, and that intuitive understanding was helping her on the Quidditch pitch. At least, it had helped her during Angelina’s training sessions. They might be slightly less demented than Wood’s had been, but only slightly.

“Thank you for the brandy, Hagrid, but we had best get moving - I must attend the Quidditch match this afternoon,” Madame Maxime said, emerging from the shadows with surprisingly quiet footsteps. Hagrid was just behind her, and he glanced meaningfully at the spot Holly was hiding in.

“You’re right, you’re right. Hope you won’t take offence if I’m cheering for Gryffindor?” Hagrid said as he passed Holly.

“Not at all. I know that was your own - what is the word? Ah, yes, that is was your own house. And you are close to the Potter girl?”

“That I am. Introduced her to the magical world, you know - this way. Now, eh, you said you did some hunting?”

“One must keep the manticore populations controlled and the governors entertained,” Maxime said haughtily.

“I bet that’s a right difficult job - unless they let you feed ‘em to the manticores over there. But we’re gonna need to be right quiet when we approach. I’m technically not supposed to be showing you this, after all. Got a mate there who won’t mind showing us around, but best not to draw attention,” Hagrid said, and Holly felt her interest grow. What would Hagrid be showing Madame Maxime - and her - out here in the dead of night? If he had some frightening new monster for a pet, he could just show them in the daylight.

The two titanic people - well beyond any Muggle Holly had ever heard off - were bizarrely quiet as they made their way through the forest. Holly had a hard time keeping up with their much longer stride without making a racket, so she carefully hid her cloak and transformed.

As a raven, she was able to keep Hagrid and Madame Maxime in sight without alerting half the forests as to where she was. She soared on the cold wind that had been so biting just moments ago, flying in lazy arcs that stopped her from overtaking Hagrid.

Holly smelt something she didn’t recognise on the wind. It wasn’t the smell of a centaur band, nor the rotting meat of a thestral herd. It was a harsh scent full of ash and smoke. She banked around a particularly thick cluster of trees and saw a flash of bright light. A gout of fire a hundred feet long had been blasted into the air, white-hot and almost too bright to look at, by a creature larger than a double-decker bus.

Holly beat her wings rapidly in a moment of panic as she recognised the dragon in the clearing ahead. Jets of red light splashed futilely across its hide as it trashed against thick black-iron chains. It ceased breathing fire to roar, and the sound nearly knocked Holly out of the air.

“Alright there, Hagrid?” a man said, and Holly saw Charlie Weasley approach Hagrid and Madam Maxime.

“Blimey, she’s not happy!” Hagrid said.

“We told the ministry that nesting mothers will think their fake eggs are real... bloody uncontrollable they are if they think they’re defending their eggs,” Charlie said.

“They are not using real eggs, then?” Madame Maxime said.

“No dragonhandler’d agree to that. Certainly none from a reputable reserve,” Charlie replied and then got closer to Hagrid. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing her along as well,” Charlie whispered to him.

“Quite right too. Endangered species, dragons are. Can’t be risking whole clutches of eggs...” Hagrid said loudly. “I just thought she might like to see ‘em. It’s not like she doesn’t know the broad strokes of the tasks, anyway,” Hagrid whispered back.

Charlie went on to point out - from their vantage point - each dragon. There was the Chinese Fireball, which had breath that might be more appropriately called “explosive” rather than “flame”. The Common Welsh Green, famous for its venomous fangs - each the size and sharpness of a sabre - snapped angrily at its handlers. The Sweedish Short-Snout, notable for its sheer bulldog-like bulk, was sleeping soundly. The Hungarian Horntail, which was covered in bone spikes and other dangerous-looking things, was busy breathing fire at anyone who tried to get near it.

Holly watched the dragons for some time before she flew back out of the forest and retrieved her cloak. She made sure to leave a note under Hagrid’s door with her thanks and headed back up to Gryffindor Tower. Nobody else was awake and in the common room, so she quickly retrieved the two-way mirror and sat down across from the dying embers of the fire

“Sirius?” she said, hoping that her godfather would be awake at this time of night.

“Holly, what’s wrong?” Sirius said, responding almost immediately.
“The first task - Sirius, the first task is dragons,” Holly said.

“You’re sure?” Sirius asked, and Holly heard someone else approach the mirror.

“Hagrid showed me them. Charlie Weasley is here with the dragon handlers,” Holly said.

“How’s your flame freezing charm?” Remus said as entered the mirror’s field of view.

“Excellent. Dumbledore taught me a whole bunch of... a whole bunch of spells about fire last week,” Holly said. Sirius laughed loudly.

“Of course he did,” Sirius said, still laughing.

“I don’t think they’re going to have you fight them, Holly. Most likely they’re going to want you to get past them - using dragons as guard animals is a long-standing tradition. In that case, you’ll want to look up something called a conjunctivitis curse - nothing else besides powerful dark magic will do much through their hide, but if you can get them in the eyes with that...” Remus said.

“A distraction would be a good idea, still. Are you any good at casting the snake conjuring charm?” Sirius asked.

“What, Serpensortia? I’ve never tried it, but I could learn... why, though?” Holly said.

“Dragons don’t actually eat humans - too fond of spiky metal things and magic to make good food. Present it with something more interesting, and you might be able to sneak around it - maybe put a silencing charm on yourself if you think your nonverbal shields will be good enough,” Sirius said.

Holly, Sirius, and Remus spent nearly an hour strategising until Holly remembered that she had a Quidditch match in the morning. She went to bed full of ideas on how to get past her dragon, and though she only got a little sleep she was still confident going into the match.

Despite the impending danger of the First Task, Holly was in top form that morning. She flew with expert precision, her innate understanding of the air and flight greatly improved thanks to her mastery of her Animagus form. She danced between bludgers, led opposing chasers into one another, and caught the Snitch in fifteen minutes. Hufflepuff booed her as one, and she even had to dodge a jinx shot at her from the stands.

Holly was starting to think that Beauxbatons simply didn’t have as good a Quidditch program as Hogwarts, which she supposed probably made sense. Few countries were as obsessed with the game as those that Hogwarts drew its students from, after all.

The second-year duelling competition was held after the Quidditch match, and Holly was surprised to see the champion of the first-years do quite well. The Durmstrang girl’s disarming charm still worked just as well, but in the final match, she was in turn disarmed by a boy from Beauxbatons. Even though she’d lost in the second year tournament, the girl had secured a boon for Krum in the upcoming task - as the boy from Beauxbatons had done for Fluer. A sixth year Hufflepuff had won a gobstones tournament for Cedric, leaving Holly the only champion without a boon going into the first task.

As Holly was walking back up to the castle, after showering and getting changed out of her Quidditch robes, she saw Cedric Diggory hanging around on the grounds. He seemed to be without the crowd of friends and hangars on that had surrounded him at all times since his name had come out of the Goblet.

“Holly!” he shouted, beckoning her over. She joining him on top of a small hill, with her teammates looking on curiously.

“Um, what’s up, Cedric?” Holly asked. She felt awkward in front of the handsome older boy, especially after the deep animosity that had developed between their houses.

“Look, I just want to apologise for how my house has been acting. I’ve tried to get them to stop, but...” Cedric said.

“It’s - I’m used to it. It’s not your fault if they want to hate me for a while,” Holly said. “But... thanks for trying, yeah? And - and there’s something I need to tell you,” Holly continued. She felt like she was being stupid, but she knew Fleur and Krum would already know this, and Cedric had been nothing but decent to her.

“Um, what is it?” Cedric said, looking at her strangely.

“The first task - it’s dragons. One for each of us, and we have to get past them. That’s all I know,” Holly said quickly.

“Are you sure? How do you -” Cedric began.

“I’ve seen them. It, um, it doesn’t matter how, okay? Fleur and Krum already know,” Holly said.

“Why are you telling me?” Cedric asked. Holly wanted to answer that it was because she liked him desperately, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“You’ve been really good about all this so far, you know? I guess I just wanted to repay the favour,” Holly said, blushing.

Cedric didn’t look like he believed her, but she was spared any further mortification when he simply accepted her reasons and wished her good luck. Holly made her way back to Gryffindor Tower feeling a little better.

“And you’re sure it’s dragons?” Hermione asked Holly after she finished telling her friends about the upcoming task that night.

“I told you, Hagrid showed them to me. Sirius and Remus have already given me some ideas, but I need to practice the spells - and more ideas couldn’t hurt,” Holly said.

“Maybe Hermione could find some kind of spell for you, but what are Ginny and I going to do?” Ron asked.

“Speak for yourself, brother,” Ginny said, shoving him playfully. Holly happened to look behind Ron, and she saw that a new notice had been attached to the noticeboard sometime in the afternoon. She read it and grinned.

“Say, Ron, have you checked out the noticeboard recently?” Holly asked.

“What do you mean?” Ron asked, as he turned around and read the new notice. There was a chess competition scheduled for the day before the tournament, and Holly was certain that Ron had a good chance of winning it.

“Maybe Bagman knew what he was doing adding in all this extra stuff,” Ron said, and Holly laughed.

Holly spent much of the next week practising all the various spells she, Sirius, Remus, and Hermione had been able to come up with. She still turned in her homework, but often at the very last minute and with considerable help from Hermione. She was too busy learning to conjure snakes and blind dragons with curses to give essays on proper wand movement for animal to cutlery transfigurations much attention.

Ron did win Holly a boon in the chess competition, easily crushing all of his challengers. None of them expected him to be nearly as good, and Holly thought Hermione should probably introduce him to muggle chess - he’d probably find more enjoyable games there.

Then it was the morning of the First Task, and Holly got out of bed feeling both nervous and excited.

Chapter 53: Year Four, Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Text

Holly felt her nerves build and build throughout the day so that she was full of energy throughout all of her classes - even history of magic! But lessons were to stop at midday, and the whole school seemed to share some of Holly’s nervous energy. The competitions related to the tournament seen so far had been fun to watch or participate in, but gobstones and firsties attempting to duel could hardly be compared to the tasks themselves.

She ate her lunch quickly, and managed to finish off her sandwich and down the last of her pumpkin juice as she saw McGonagall begin to approach her.

“With me, Miss Potter. The champions are heading down now,” the Professor said, and Holly nodded.

“Good luck,” Ginny said from across the Gryffindor table, and Holly nodded. She followed McGonagall down the hall and out into the cold November afternoon, shivering a little as the wind blew across the grounds.

“Now, just don’t panic and try your best in there, Potter. We have trained wizards standing by if things... well, just give a good effort and no one can think less of you,” McGonagall said.

“Sure, professor,” Holly said. She found herself strangely calm as she saw the stadium for the first time. It was lower to the ground than the Quidditch pitch but otherwise looked quite similar. There was a large box with fancier seating, including a golden table for the judges, and a small tent at the side. A pair of large gates occupied the other end of the stadium, and beyond them, Holly could see the beginning of the dragon enclosure - though the dragons themselves were carefully kept out of sight.

Holly went over her plan in her head - she had to temporarily blind the dragon with a pair of conjunctivitis curses and then use summoned snakes as a distraction to sneak up on or past the dragon. She had a few more ideas, but without knowing what she’d actually have to do she couldn’t plan in much more detail than she already had.

It was, Holly thought, a good plan. She thought she could improvise if it went wrong - her training with Dumbledore had made her fairly confident when it came to dealing with magical fire, and even her nonverbal shield charms should be able to deflect the dragon’s claws. Though she wasn’t keen on chancing ‘should’ against claws the size of a shortsword and as sharp as razor.

“In here, Potter. Wait for your turn with the other champions - Mr Bagman will explain the, ah, procedure to you... and good luck,” McGonagall said, and Holly smiled at her before she entered the tent.

Holly noticed with surprise that all the other champions looked significantly more nervous than her. Fleur was clammy and pale, sitting on a low wooden stool and not looking at anyone. Krum was pacing with a fierce look on his face, whilst Cedric was cleaning his wand and looking around nervously.

Once you’d killed a Basilisk with a sword, Holly guessed, getting past a dragon simply wasn’t as scary as it ought to be. The other champions might have more experience when it came to magic, and they certainly knew more spells than her (although she thought the spells she did know were more likely to be useful in situations like this), but Holly had far more experience when it came to getting out of deadly peril.

That was probably a bad thing, but right now Holly was glad for the calm that had come over her. She was still scared, of course, but she was used to being scared. She could work with scared.

“Holly, good to see you - come on in, make yourself at home. That’s all of them, Janet?” Bagman said, gesturing towards Mrs Hull. She clearly did not appreciate being called by her first name, but Holly thought she looked more long-suffering than angry.

“Yes, Ludo, that’s all of the four champions. In case you forgot how many there were,” Mrs Hull said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Excellent. I supposed we can explain how it all works now... ah, there it is,” Bagman said, searching for something. He pulled a purple silk bag from under a table and turned to face the champions once more. “So, inside this bag is a model of what dra - what you’re about to face. What else was there - oh, yes. You’re to retrieve the Golden Egg!” Bagman said, grinning.

He paused for a moment, and the sound of hundreds of people walking up the stairs into the stands grew very loud inside the tent. Bagman paused for a moment, and Holly saw the other champions get even more nervous. She wondered why bagman was making such a big show out of concealing that they’d be facing a dragon - surely he’d expected them all to know that by now? Cheating, Hermione had told her, was a sacred tradition when it came to the Triwizard Tournament.

“Ladies first, eh?” Bagman said and opened the neck of the bag slightly before offering it to Fleur. She looked like she was on the verge of trying to quit, but she managed to slowly put her hand in a draw something out. It was a moving, miniature model of a Sweedish Short-Snout, with the number ‘one’ around its neck. That was, Holly thought, quite an impressive bit of enchanting.

“Lucky girl - Short-Snout’s are big, but they’re not all that bright. Well, the last of our lady champions, then,” Bagman said, and offered Holly the bag. She hesitated for only a moment and withdrew her dragon. It was covered in spikes of bone, and she had to hold it by the tail to stop it from trying to breathe a miniature jet of fire at her. It had a little card around its neck that read ‘four’.

“Hungarian Horntail for you, Potter. That’s a nasty one,” Mrs Hull said, chuckling to herself. Holly tried very hard not to scowl at her. Cedric pulled out the Chinese Fireball, whilst Victor Krum drew the Welsh Green.

“Now, for your boons. You each have one for this task, and each will give you a very useful item for the task ahead. Each boon will come with a small card explaining how to use it - keep them secret, and keep them safe! Once I’ve given them to you, the boons are your responsibility - you may use them for this task, or save them for another,” Bagman said. He passed out small stoppered glass vials with objects inside them. Both Fleur and Krum got vials containing little silver disks, whilst Cedric’s just looked like a gobstone. Holly’s boon was what looked like an ordinary wizarding white queen chess piece.

‘Throw me at your foe, and I shall aid you with marble fist and stone blade' read the card. Holly could guess what the chess piece would do, and she carefully pocketed it and the vial.

“Say, Holly my dear - could I have a word with you outside?” Bagman asked. Holly blinked, but she followed the portly department head out of the champion’s tent.

“What do you need, Mr Bagman?” she asked.

“Well, just wanted to... see how you are. Got a plan?” Bagman asked.

“Sure - Sirius and Remus helped me with it,” she said.

“Excellent, excellent... but if you need anything, you just ask. A few pointers, maybe... or something discreet. Nobody’d have to know,” Bagman said, and Holly almost went for her wand. Why would Bagman want to help her cheat, she wondered?

“I think I’ll be fine, Mr Bagman,” Holly said. There was a note of tension in her voice, and Bagman seemed to get the message because he ran back inside the tent almost immediately. Holly followed him in after a few moments, and she saw Fleur leaving to go confront her dragon.

There was silence in the tent as Fleur competed. They could all hear the sounds of a roaring dragon, smell the distinctive smell of dragon breath, and then the dragon seemed to calm. Another voice could be heard over it. This one was gentle and melodic. Fleur sang, and even here in the tent, Holly could feel the power in that melody. It was a little like parseltounge, infusing magic into words at a more primal level than an incantation.

The crowd roared, and Holly knew Fleur had just succeeded. Then in what seemed like no time at all, Cedric and Krum had also gone and faced their dragon. Holly listened to Bagman’s excited commentary, and she knew all the older champions had at least gotten the egg. Krum had done something with a broom and apparently gotten singed, Cedric’s attempt had involved a lot of spellfire, and Fleur had done something with a magical song to placate her dragon.

Holly heard the whistle blow, signalling her to enter the stadium. She looked down at her hand and saw that it was perfectly still. Not a trace of a shake. There never was when her life was on the line. She grinned despite herself, drew her wand, and walked out into the stadium.

She exited the heavy drapes of the tent’s exit and entered a blasted hellscape. Barren grey rock, carved into a series of trenches and littered with bits of cover, slowly converged upwards. At the very top of the hill was a dragon exactly as big as Holly had been dreading it would be, sitting on a cluster of fake eggs and a single shining golden egg.

The crowd roared as Bagman introduced her, but Holly knew she had no time to waste. The second the task began, she leapt out of cover. Out of the rocky trench and onto the open ground.

Her wand moved lightning fast as the Horntail roared and breathed fire at her before she could cast her curses. Her shield charm split the flame down the middle, scorching the rocky walls of the stadium black. She was running forward as she kept up her shield, and then the Horntail’s breathe let up and Holly fired off a beam of pink light from her wand.

“And Potter’s demonstrating incredible mastery of the shield charm - to be expected with her combat experience!” Bagman said, his voice magical enhanced from his seat in the commentary box.

The Conjunctivitis curse hit the Horntail right in the eye, and it let out an awful screech as Holly’s curse blinded it temporarily. Then her second curse hit the other eye, and the Dragon reared back up on its hind legs, screeching in pain and confusion. Holly saw how unsteady it was on only its hind legs, and then she noted how the hill it was standing on and her angle towards it worked out.

“EXPLUSO!” Holly roared, her powerful blasting curse slamming into the Dragon and sending it toppling backwards in a pulse of blue light. The Dragon’s thick hide was resistant to magic, but that wouldn’t protect it from gravity, and the force of her blasting curse was enough to unbalance the Dragon.

“Serpensortia,” Holly said more calmly, and she summoned a dozen huge and dangerous looking snakes. She hissed at them, giving their unliving magical constructs their orders, and then silenced herself.

“My word, she’s blinded and toppled it! And what’s this, summoning snakes - wait, let’s all be very quiet. Potter is attempting to use a stealthy approach,” Bagman said, as Holly slowly snuck up the rocky hill in the centre of the stadium.

She had to be very careful, because whilst her silencing spell would stop her from making any noise, if she dislodged some rocks her spell would do nothing and the Dragon would be alerted. From what Holly could hear, it was happily devouring the conjured snakes for the time being.

Then, just as she crested the hill, she saw the Horntail’s spiky snout turn in her direction and sniff loudly. Holly began to understand the flaw in her plan, and she knew that her summoned snakes weren’t going to be able to distract the dragon long enough. The Horntail turned fully towards her, and Holly gulped. She wasn’t even at the golden egg yet!

Holly withdrew the vial with the chess piece from her robes and threw it towards the dragon as hard as she could. It shattered on the blasted rock in front of it, and then in a puff of smoke the White Queen from the chessboard guarding the Philosopher’s Stone appeared. It socked the Horntail right in the jaw with a marble fist and then tried to put the Dragon in a headlock.

As the chess piece and the dragon grappled one another, Holly cancelled the spells on her and dashed forward. As the Dragon finished smashing up the chess piece, Holly scooped up the golden egg and began to dash for the exit. The Dragon turned and breathed fire at her, but Holly shielded herself against it. The fire went upwards and slammed into the wards designed to protect the audience; who screamed and cheered equally loudly.

She ducked beneath a tail swipe, going into a desperate roll, but then Holly was safe and beyond the reach of the dragon. Dozens of handlers emerged and start to stun the Dragon, and eventually, they got the dragon to agree to take another nap.

Holly had survived the first task, and she eagerly turned towards the judges to see what she’d scored.

Chapter 54: Year Four, Chapter Twenty

Chapter Text

“I don’t believe it - Potter’s gone and faced the Horntail head-on... and she’s won! Our youngest champion has just achieved our quickest victory of the day. Well, that’s certain to shorten those long odds on her,” bagman said from the commentator’s seat, talking into his enchanted and old-fashioned looking microphone.

Dragonhandlers, Charlie Weasley amongst them, rushed onto the rocky ground of the stadium. They fired huge coordinated barrages of stunning spells at the angry Horntail. It trashed around and tried to break its chained collar, but the handlers had it knocked out with surprising speed. Holly clutched her golden egg - which was surprisingly large and heavy - in one hand, and her wand in the other.

The crowd was cheering as one now, all house and school allegiances long since forgotten. Holly waved back at them, and she grinned broadly as she saw the giant animated lightning bolt banner the twins had made being madly waved. Hagrid, McGonagall, and Moody were all waiting for her at the other exit of the stadium, and even Moody looked a little happy.

“You really did it! Even managed not to hurt the poor thing too badly,” Hagrid said - the poor thing, of course, being the dragon that had just been trying to roast Holly alive. But she was in a good mood, and so she merely smiled at Hagrid and said nothing.

“That was some good aim you showed out there, Potter,” Moody said, leaning on his cane.

“Thanks, Professors,” Holly said.

“Excellently done, miss Potter, - with me, if you please. Madam Pomfrey wants a look at you, just to make sure you haven’t hurt yourself,” McGonagall said, and Holly followed her into a white tent. It was divided into small cubicles, and Holly thought she could make out the silhouette of Viktor Krum in one of them.

Holly sat down, and Madam Pomfrey soon arrived. She looked like she’d had a busy afternoon.

“Dragons! Last year, Dementors - this year, Dragons! If this keeps up, there’ll be a Nundu for next year... oh, I suppose you’re fine, Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said as she looked Holly over. Just a moment afterwards, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron all burst into the tent.

“Holly!” they said, and Ginny ran over and hugged her.

“I’m fine - look, not even singed,” Holly said, as she joined her friends in returning to the stands. She could see the judges clearly now, and apparently, all that remained for the First Task was for her score to be given out.

“That was - it was pretty bloody scary, and I was just watching it,” Ron said.

“I’m sorry for forgetting about it tracking you by scent, Holly. I should have accounted for the dragon’s strong sense -” Hermione began, but Holly interrupted her.

“It’s okay, Hermione. If Sirius and Remus didn’t think of it...” Holly said.

“You know, you said Professor Dumbledore was teaching you all about magical fire a few weeks ago. Reckon he was trying to get you ready for this?” Ginny asked.

“I think that trying to guess why the Headmaster does something is only going to lead to failure,” Holly said, to a chorus of laughter.

“Shush, they’re announcing the scores,” Ron said, and Holly turned to watch the judges intently. She’d been informed what the other champions had scored, and she hoped that she could at least not fall too far behind - or even, a small part of her whispered, build a bit of a lead.

Madame Maxime raised her wand, and out of it shot a long silver ribbon. The ribbon twisted in mid-air until it became a floating number nine. People clapped here and there whilst Holly kept her gaze squarely on the judges.

Mrs Hull was the next judge, and she gave Holly an eight - though she didn’t look at all happy about it. Holly wasn’t sure what her problem was. The score was high enough not to anger the crowd, although Holly heard a few people muttering.

Then Dumbledore gave her a nine, and Holly felt her hopes rise. Could she actually be a contender against people like Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour?

When Ludo Bagman gave Holly a perfect ten, the entire stadium seemed to erupt with noise. Gryffindor House got to their feet as one and let out a massive, nearly defeating roar, whilst even the odd Slytherin or Hufflepuff started to clap.

“A ten - nobody else but Krum’s got one, and that was from Karkaroff,” Ron said excitedly.

When Karakaroff gave Holly a four, it seemed like every student in the stadium got to their feet to boo him. The Slytherins seemed to be mostly staying out of it, but even Hufflepuff - who had hated Holly for usurping Cedric - were standing and booing.

“THAT’S RUBBISH!” Ginny shouted, and Ron wasn’t far behind her. Holly did some quick sums in her head, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she realised she and Krum would be exactly even with one another.

“At least he didn’t leave me one point behind Krum,” Holly said. It was rubbish, but tying Viktor Krum for first place wasn’t anything she could complain about - and seeing the entire school cheer for her, all the animosity of the past weeks forgotten had been a reward in and of itself.

McGonagall came and retrieved Holly as people began to leave, and Holly rejoined the other champions, Bagman, and Hull in the first tent. Krum had one hand covered in bandages, but he didn’t seem like he was in all that much pain or anything. Fleur looked much better now that the first task was over and done with, as did Cedric.

“Good to see you all made it through the first task alright... got you eggs and all that,” Bagman said a little awkwardly. Hull coughed loudly. “Well, yes, let’s not keep you too long - I’m sure there are parties waiting for you back up at the castle. The second task will take place at nine in the morning of February the twenty-fourth, and if you’d examine the hinges on your eggs; you’ll notice that they open up. Find a private palace to do that, and you’ll have your clue for the next task,” Bagman said.

They all left the tent a little awkwardly, and Holly made sure to evade Rita Skeeter after she saw her prowling towards the champions. By the time she reached Gryffindor Tower, Fred and George had a party in full swing. The Common Room was filled with raucous noise, and someone handed Holly a butterbeer the second she entered.

“Here she is!” shouted Lee Jordan, and he let off a half dozen tiny filibuster fireworks. They sparked and whizzed through the air, leaving behind smoke and little dancing bits of light. The huge animated banner that Holly had seen waving in the stands was now hung proudly up on the wall, and a large triwizard scoreboard now occupied much of the noticeboard.

“Excellent work out there, Potter. I always said a conjunctivitis curse to the eyes was a smart way to go about it,” Cormac MacLaggen said, patting Holly on the pat with more than a little force.

“Um, thanks Cormac?” Holly said, unsure what to say to the boy she regarded as an obnoxious twit.

“Can we offer our conquering heroine anything this fine afternoon - more butterbeer, cake, a custard cream?” George said, holding out one of the deserts towards Holly. As she hadn’t been borne yesterday, Holly politely declined.

Seamus Finnegan did take one, and he ended up spending a few minutes covered in white feathers. But they fell off quickly, and Seamus was laughing along with everyone else. The Twins announced that they were selling them for seven sickles each and soon they were doing a roaring trade from a little table at the back of the room.

Not just in canary creams either - they were selling skiving snackboxes, which were little sweets that made one a little ill, and fake wands hand over fist. The wands turned into something funny when someone tried to cast a spell with them - Holly saw the wands transform into everything from a haddock to a ladle.

Holly went to go buy one from the twins (because they really were great fun), and the line around the ‘Weasley’s Wizard Wheeze’s’ table parted for her.

“And what can we interest you in, young Miss Potter?” Fred said, doing a passable impression of Florean Fortescue, who was the proprietor of the ice cream parlour in Diagon Alley.

“I’ll take a fake wand and two scoops of wizard-raised choc and mint thanks, Florean,” she said, and Fred laughed. She bought her fake wand, and had great fun waving it and turning it into various objects. She, Ron, and Ginny got into a swordfight with their fake wands, and so Holly had to block a fish with her rolling pin. Hermione didn’t join in, but she was examining one of the fake wands closely.

“This is really very good work,” Hermione said to Fred and George as the party began to wind down.

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d have been interested in prank items, Hermione” George said.

“I’m not. But you really have done something special with the runes here - I wasn’t aware you could get them to produce a random function,” Hermione said.

“Oh ho, she knows what she’s talking about. Tell you what - you come and give us some advice on some future products, and we’ll tell you all how this one works,” Fred said, grinning.

“Very well,” Hermione said, but Holly thought her sigh was mostly performative.

That night, Holly put her little Horntail model onto her bedside table and went to sleep without so much as a trace of a nightmare.

Hermione had a little collection of international wizarding newspapers the next morning, reading all about how other countries were reporting on the First Task, though she could only read French and a little Spanish. The French papers were all excited about Fleur, and it had a big glossy photograph of her charming the dragon on the front page. Holly and Krum were also mentioned, though Holly was described as “overpowering her dragon with brutal curses,” and Krum was called a ‘one-note quidditch player’. Cedric wasn’t mentioned much beyond his score.

Most of the papers they could actually read were American, and the Tournament seemed to be front-page news in most of them solely because of Holly and Krum. Holly noted that quite a few of them made sure to inform their readers that she was a half-blood, and one even praised her for “overcoming a muggle upbringing”. The other news stories were mostly on things like corruption in the Roanoke Regiment, or protests relating to issues Holly had no idea about.

She realised that she didn’t know all that much about the wider wizarding world. She knew a little - that in Europe, most magical governments were organised much like the Ministry here, for example - but she hadn’t known that the American wizards had an entirely separate government, and indeed considered themselves a different country than muggle America. Hermione had known that, of course, but Hermione read much more broadly than Holly. Holly was mostly interested in practical magic or failing that, exciting and dangerous things, but Hermione was more than happy to read dry history texts and such.

As November neared its end, Holly was kept very busy by all her commitments. She had more lessons with Dumbledore on protecting her mind, Quidditch Practice, and keeping up with her extra-circular studies all on top of classes. She was also helping her friends with their Animagus transfigurations - and after a few false starts with the sticking solution, it seemed like they would be ready to try it just after Christmas.

Before that, Holly still had a lot to do. On the last weekend of November, the third year duelling competition was held before the Hufflepuff-Vulchanova (one of Durmstrang’s house teams) match. She knew the fourth year competition wasn’t far away, and she was determined to win it.

“Miss Potter?” McGonagall asked loudly, and Holly flushed.

“What was the question, Professor?” Holly asked. It was their last lesson on Thursday, and everyone was a little tired, but McGonagall didn’t think that was a decent excuse.

“Do try to stay awake in class in the future, Potter. Now, pay attention, because this is especially important for you. As you may have heard from older students, Hogwarts will be holding a Yule Ball this year, as it is a traditional part of the tournament...” McGonagall began, and Holly felt panic rise within her. A Ball - did that mean she’d have to take someone? As a date?

“..and while the Ball is open to fourth years and above, you may invite a younger student if you wish,” McGonagall continued, and Holly felt her fears confirmed.

This, she thought, was scarier than the dragon. At least if she’d failed at that, her humiliation would be over quickly. This promised to be far more drawn out.

Chapter 55: Year Four, Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Text

Holly heard whispers and giggles all around her, and as McGonagall talked she could feel almost all the eyes in the transfiguration classroom turn to her. Holly just stared straight ahead and tried not to take any notice of them, because if she did that would open the floodgates and she’d never get out of the classroom without being mobbed.

“Miss Potter? Stay behind, please,” McGonagall said, and Holly gulped. She was sure she wasn’t going to like whatever McGonagall wanted to talk to her about. After everyone else had left, Holly joined her transfiguration professor up in the front of the classroom.

“What did you want to talk about, Professor?” Holly asked.

“Just to inform you that the champions and their partners traditionally open the ball. I imagine you can’t dance?” McGonagall asked.

“Definitely not at a ball,” Holly said.

“Well, it’s really not especially hard - there will be lessons available. I would strongly suggest that you attend so that you do not embarrass the school by stepping on some poor boy’s feet,” McGonagall said, and Holly nodded.

“Do - do I have to take a boy?” she asked, nervously.

“There are no rules against taking a girl, but... Potter, listen to me carefully. Whoever you take might find themselves put into a spotlight they are not ready for, and that would go doubly for any girl you happened to take,” McGonagall said, carefully.

“I - I understand, Professor,” Holly said, and she hurried off to get to her next class. All throughout the day the idea of who to take ate at her, not to mention that she was already fending off proposals from older boys, most of whom seemed to have been put up to it on a dare.

She saw quite a few snickering mates throughout the day, at any rate. Holly was used to hearing the things they giggled about, and although it was embarrassing and hurtful her past experiences let her get through it with only minor emotional injury.

“Hey, Potter!” Cormac MacLaggen shouted from across the corridor.

“What do you want, Cormac?” Holly asked, and she fought not to roll her eyes as she saw Cormac’s buddies inexpertly hiding in a classroom across the hallway.

“Just wanted to know if you’d got a date to the Yule Ball yet, you know? I’ve heard you’re pretty popular with the lads this year,” Cormac said.

“I don’t have one yet, no,” Holly said, blushing. She could stand up to a roaring dragon, but talking about something like this with a handsome older boy, even one she disliked, was embarrassing.

“Just my luck then, eh? I know a lot of guys are asking you on a dare, but I reckon you’d look pretty good in dress robes. What do you reckon?” Cormac said, and Holly felt her hand twitch.

“No thanks,” she said, not looking at Cormac.

“Come on - you’re not gonna get a better offer - what, do you think Cedric Diggory’s gonna date a scrawny little -” Cormac began, but whatever he was going to call her was interrupted by Holly.

“I said no, Cormac. Why you’d think I’d ever say yes is beyond me, but perhaps you haven’t got the memo. I think you’re an obnoxious ass, and never in a million years would I go to the Yule Ball with you,” Holly said.

“Fine, enjoy being alone or going with some fat-ass like Longbottom,” Cormac said, turning away from her.

“Don’t talk about Neville like that,” Holly said, and Cormac laughed. She drew her wand and hexed him, causing pimples to break out all across his face. Even his poorly concealed friends laughed at that, and Cormac rushed away from her.

Holly stormed off, angry. She wanted to transform and go flying, but the school was too crowded for her to get away with that. So instead she walked out onto the bridge to brood, savouring the feel of the cold wind against her face.

She had no idea who to ask to the Yule Ball, and that was even if they’d accept her. She thought she might be able to handle rejection, but if they said no because she was trans...

Holly sat down against the wooden sides of the bridge and wondered. Who could she ask to go with her to the Yule Ball? She felt like she could admit she thought Cho Chang was very pretty but did she even have any interest in girls? Holly had heard rumours about that, of course, but that was just a stereotype any girl who played quidditch had to deal with. Then there was Cedric Diggory, who she knew liked girls, but he was several years above her - would he even be interested?

Would he, she wondered, think of her as a girl when it came to something like this? He hadn’t said anything about doubting her, and he’d seemed embarrassed by his dad, but Holly knew there was a world of difference between accepting her as a friend who happened to be a girl and as a girlfriend.

Beyond that, how could she get him to ask her? Surely he’d ask someone like Fleur, or another older girl, not someone like her. How could she compare to the part-Veela girl?

“Screw it. I’ll just have to ask him myself,” Holly said to herself, standing up. Maybe he’d say no, and it would be awful, but at the end of the day, it would only be social mortification. She’d experienced that before, and she could do it again.

She knew that tradition dictated that boys were supposed to ask girls to this sort of thing, but when had she ever bothered with respecting tradition? She didn’t care if some stuffy witch writing in to Witch Weekly would disapprove - someone would probably disapprove whatever she did.

So Holly gathered up all her courage and went to find Cedric. After retrieving the map from her room, it was easy enough to track him down to the owlery, and Holly was lucky enough to catch him alone there. All she had to do was go up and talk to him. A simple, easy task.

Naturally, she found it incredibly difficult. What should she say, she wondered? She was so absorbed in trying to think up some perfect opening line that she actually managed to arrive at the Owlery without noticing.

“Holly?” Cedric asked and she looked up in surprise. There he was, as handsome as ever, tying a letter to the leg of an owl.

“O-oh, hey there, Cedric,” Holly said, blushing. Why had she just blundered in, thought?

“You here to send a letter too? Just writing to my dad - you saw how he was at the tournament,” Cedric said, waving his arm in an embarrassed-yet-fond sort of way that Holly had only understood after she started living with Sirius and Remus.

“No, um, I was actually - I was actually looking for you,” she said, the words coming out in a great big tumble.

“Is it about the tournament? Listen, I’ve found-” Cedric began, but Holly cut him off in her nervousness.

“No, not like that. I - I... I just wanted to ask you to go to the Yule Ball with me,” Holly said, and she felt her cheeks turn crimson. This was mortifying and he hadn’t even answered yet.

Then Holly saw Cedric’s expression, and it was like she stepped through a vanishing stair. He didn’t look happy, or interested, or even bemused. He looked sad and awkward. Even, some small part of her whispered, uncomfortable. He’s going to tell you he couldn’t dance with a boy, the part of her that had never really left Privet Drive whispered. He’s going to tell you that you’re not good enough, that you’re an ugly little stick with nothing to speak of.

“I can’t. I’m - I’m really sorry, you know? It’s not about you being... what was the word? Trans? It’s not about that. You’re a good looking girl, and whoever you go with will be lucky as all hell. But I’m dating someone already - before the Ball was even announced,” Cedric said, and Holly felt a conflicting whirlwind of emotions. Relief, that he hadn’t said something awful. Pain, because he’d been so nice and charming in letting her down gently - so that she liked him even more as he was saying no. Sheer, wild, absurd humour, because she’d worked herself up so much for something she’d never had a chance at in the first place.

“Oh,” was all Holly said, quietly.

“Can you keep a secret?” Cedric asked, and Holly nodded mutely. “Cho and I are dating - you know how it is with the Quidditch rivalries in this school. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw aren’t exactly Gryffindor and Slytherin, but...” Cedric said, and Holly laughed. Of course he was dating the other person she’d wanted to ask. The whole thing felt like some mean joke the universe had played on her, and she couldn’t help but laugh wildly.

“I’m sorry, Cedric - that wasn’t about you. The other person, um, that I was considering asking was Cho,” Holly said. He laughed too then, a little ruefully.

“Well, I can see you’ve got good taste. But you know, I’m sure you’ll find someone you like. I - I guess I’m not too good at this,” Cedric said, awkwardly.

“It’s - it’s okay. I, um, I guess I’ll go now?” Holly said, and she turned to leave.

“Wait, Holly,” Cedric said, and for one moment a surge of stupid, impossible hope surged through her. She stopped and turned back to face him. “Abot the tournament... I didn’t really say thank you for warning me about the dragons. Have you opened your egg yet?” Cedric asked. Holly blinked.

“Um, no, I haven’t,” Holly said. She’d been so busy that it had slipped her mind.

“Right, so be careful when you do... it makes a fucking awful noise. But it’s not so bad if you take it with you when you have a bath. Just put the egg in the water with you and... mull things over. You can use the prefect’s bathroom if you want - fourth door to the left of that statue of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor. Password’s ‘pine fresh’,” Cedric said, and Holly nodded slowly.

“Um, thanks I guess?” Holly said, and before she could feel any worse she dashed out of the owlery.

Even flying over the grounds transformed into a raven did nothing to soothe her upset feelings, and Holly soon returned to her dorm to sulk. It was patently, bizarrely unfair that Cho and Cedric were dating each other. It was just - it was awful and not fair at all. She sat on her bed with the curtains drawn closed and dried her tears.
Who else could she go with? She didn’t like anyone else, and she didn’t want to go with some random boy. Especially not the type who’d been pushed into asking her by his laughing mates. Maybe going with one of her housemates would be okay - they were at least likely to be interested in her beyond her fame.

Her bad mood persisted until the weekend, and she went down to the Quidditch match only because Ginny would be duelling beforehand. Maybe she could boo Hufflepuff, she thought.

Holly hadn’t talked to her friends about what had happened, but she knew they’d noticed her sudden change in mood. She hadn’t talked to anyone about it, not wanting to betray Cedric’s confidence or to embarrass herself further.

The Third Year duelling competition was substantially more exciting than the previous two, though, and Holly found herself enjoying it despite herself. People could finally actually defend themselves, and there was plenty of decent ‘fencing’ with disarming charms, minor hexes, and basic deflections. People moved more, and nobody was very good at hitting people despite the short-range.

Holly knew from experience that accuracy when nobody was shooting spells at you was very different from when it actually counted. One kid from Durmstrang managed to bind his opponent in writhing coils of rope he transfigured, and the Second Year winner won a bout before being disarmed.

Then Ginny had her first duel, and Holly cheered just as loudly as Ron when Ginny managed to stun her opponent in one clean shot. She’d simply stood still and let the minor hex he cast sail right past her before she jabbed her wand at him and knocked him clean out.

Ginny ended up going all the way to the final duel using an impressive combination of hex deflections, all the hexes and jinxes she’d picked up living in the Burrow for thirteen years, and her excellent stunning charm.

She faced a boy from Durmstrang in the final, and they both had clearly mastered the stunning charm from their previous bouts. Holly thought that it might come down to speed, with both being able to cast a spell they wouldn’t be able to block with simple hex deflection, but she was amazed when Ginny bounced the boy’s stunner right off her shield charm.

Holly was even more amazed when the boy shielded himself from his own deflected stunning spell. Ginny and the boy fought one another fiercely, both casting much faster than the other third years. Stunning spells, disarming charms, and all manner of hexes flew between them.

In the end, Ginny was simply faster on her feet and on the cast than the boy. She drove him backwards, spell by spell until she sent him flying backwards with an especially powerful stunner.

Professor Flitwick, who was co-ordinating the duelling, quickly had the boy back up on his feet. He didn’t seem too upset about losing to Ginny, and the two of them shook hands amicably as all the Hogwarts students cheered.

Holly even enjoyed watching the Quidditch match, and she managed to restrain herself from booing Hufflepuff. That probably would have been both uncalled for and a dumb move in the current climate. Cedric caught the snitch in a daring dive, and Holly clapped. But only a little.

As Holly and her friends were walking back to the castle, she talked to Ginny about her duels.

“That was really well fought, Ginny,” Holly said. It had been a great performance, especially for a third year. She’d used OWL level magic, and more than a little cunning, to pull out Hogwart’s first victory in the duelling.

“Th-thanks, Holly,” Ginny said, blushing, and suddenly Holly felt very stupid. There was a very pretty girl at Hogwarts who she knew liked girls, and who really knew her. Who made her feel safe, in a way very few people did. Who could understand why sometimes her hands shook and why she so often woke from nightmares.

“Can I talk to you?” Holly asked Ginny as they neared the castle. Ron and Hermione were busy having one of their fun arguments and were completely involved in it.

“Sure,” Ginny said, sounding a little puzzled. Holly looked around to make sure they were alone, and then she gathered up all the courage she could find - then she found a little extra under a pillow.

“Would you, um, would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?” she asked and hoped that she really wasn’t going to have to do this a third time.

Chapter 56: Year Four, Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Text

“I - yes I’d like to go to the Ball with you,” Ginny said, the biggest smile Holly could ever remember seeing on her face. “Is this... is this as friends, or...” Ginny said, a little awkwardly. Holly felt a little stab of worry at ‘frieds’, but she calmed down. She knew what Ginny was saying.

“Not as friends,” Holly said, simply, and Ginny smiled even more. Then she hugged Holly. It wasn’t really any different to any of the hugs Ginny had given her before, but they were both suddenly nervous and awkward.

Slowly, deliberately, Holly took Ginny’s hand in her own. They walked back to the castle, not really saying much that mattered. The grounds were not yet covered with the snow that Hogwarts seemed to get every year around Christmas, but there was a beauty to their winter starkness.

Everyone in Holly’s year suddenly seemed to be in a frenzy about relationships and dating, even beyond the ball. It was as if some great store of bent up romantic explosives had blown up all at once. The older students were even more hurried, with those not already paired off scrambling to find dates to the Yule Ball.

Holly and Ginny hadn’t told anyone who they were going with, but Holly had let it slip that she was going with someone. A few people still asked, but as the rumour spread around the torrent of proposals dried up, a little.

“You know, Holly, you’re a girl,” Ron said one rainy afternoon in the Common Room, perhaps a week into December.

“Thank you for noticing, Ron,” Holly said, while Ginny giggled. Hermione just concentrated on the chessboard - she and Ron were playing a game, and even Holly could tell Hermione was probably going to lose. Again.

“It’s not - it’s just, how do I ask a girl to the Yule Ball? You always seem to travel in packs, and it’s bloody intimidating,” Ron said.

“It’s not going to be the end of the world if she says no, Ron. We only laughed at you for a few days after you tried to ask Fleur,” Holly said.

“Well, I wasn’t in my right mind for that, was I? What if I go ask some girl when I’m fully myself and make just as big an ass out of myself,” Ron said, nervously.

“Are you a Gryffindor or not?” Ginny cut in.

“Fine. I’ll go ask her right now. Why do you care, anyway - it’s not like you’re going,” Ron said.

“For your information, Ronald, someone asked me more than a week ago, and I said yes,” Ginny said, crossing her arms.

“Wha - who are you going with?” Ron spluttered.

“I’m not going to tell you,” Ginny said.

“Why not?” Ron said.

“Because you’d glare at whatever poor boy asked her for the whole month,” Hermione said, and Holly winced. She was glad Ron wasn’t looking at her, but she saw Hermione’s eyes narrow slightly.

“Fine then. I bet it’s some really ugly bloke - oy, watch the board!” Ron shouted as Ginny threw a cushion at him.

“And I bet you end up going alone, you prat,” Ginny said.

“Her Hermione, want to go to the Yule Ball with me?” Ron asked, very casually.

“Someone’s already asked me. And I wouldn’t say yes to something you’re clearly doing just to get one over on your sister anyway,” Hermione said. That was news to Holly and Ginny, and Holly was surprised Hermione hadn’t told her, at least.

That night, Dumbledore had another lesson for Holly. She arrived at his office curious what she’d be learning this time, because he had told her at the end of their last Occlumency lesson that she’d be learning something practical this time.

“Ah, it’s good to see you, Holly,” Dumbledore said as she entered his office. He stood up from behind his desk and walked over to her.

“Uh, good to see you too professor. What am I learning tonight?” Holly asked.

“As we learnt about fire in the last of these practical lessons, today we shall learn about water. If you would take my arm?” Dumbledore responded, holding out his arm. Holly took it, and then she felt like she was being squeezed through a tube of toothpaste and spun around in a washing machine all at once.

Then it was over, and Holly steaded herself on the tiled wall of a... deserted muggle indoor swimming pool? She looked around in confusion and saw that she really was standing by the side of a muggle pool. Nobody else was around, and she could see that the doors were locked.

“Where... where are we, Professor?” Holly asked.

“Well, we will require a sizeable body of water tonight - and this water is at least heated, unlike the black lake,” Dumbledore said.

“That - that makes sense, I guess,” Holly said.

“Indeed. If one were to get into the Black Lake at this time of year, a good warming charm would be rather crucial. Where wizards and witches often call upon fire to destroy, water is most often used to defend against magic. Anti-apparition wards anchored by a perimeter of water are much stronger, for example,” Dumbledore said, and Holly blinked.

“Like a moat on a castle?” Holly asked.

“Literally, in many cases. Water is one of the most effective naturally occurring barriers to magic, certainly one of the most effective that is in any way common. Spells struggle to go through a good quantity of it, and many offensive spells will simply detonate on the surface - including even powerful dark curses like the killing curse,” Dumbledore said.

“Really? Then why don’t wizards just defend themselves with conjured water?” Holly asked.

“Aguamenti is an involved, time-consuming spell - and most other methods are similarly too slow to be of much use. But, much as summoned furniture and debris are used to stop the killing curse, so is existing water. A rule of thumb that will serve you well, Holly, is that it is faster to manipulate than to conjure. Like so,” Dumbledore said, and proceed to demonstrate how much faster he could form the water in the pool into a barrier than the water he had to conjure himself.

The conjured water was far too slow to be useful, but Dumbledore was seriously quick on the draw when it came to manipulating existing water. He had her fire a few spells at him, and he was able to deflect them all with water - but her disarming spell and stunning spells went right through the water. She hadn’t hit him, of course, but her eyes still widened.

“And that is the other reason more wizards do not use water to defend themselves against others. However, should you find yourself facing a dark wizard or witch fond of powerful curses... it can prove to be a handy skill indeed. This property of water - that of making many curses detonate on contact - means that witches and wizards sometimes secure things underwater. Without such powerful tools, the magical creatures and dark beasts that live in the depths can prove formidable foes even for a powerful wizard,” Dumbledore said.

“Well, you know, so is breathing underwater,” Holly said.

“Not at all, my dear girl. A witch like yourself has many ways to breathe underwater - from a bubblehead charm to gillyweed to self-transfiguration, there are enough methods to suit any taste. Let us examine the bubblehead charm, though, as it is by far the most practical,” Dumbledore said.
Holly practised her bubblehead charm by sticking her head in the pool, which was great fun - Dumbledore did it with her, and Holly nearly laughed herself silly at the extra-long bubble he made to accommodate his beard.

Then she applied a flame-freezing charm on herself and practised using the water in the pool to defend against Dumbledore’s spells - just a simple bolt of fire, but it behaved much like a deadly curse when it hit the water. She took quite a few tries to get it right and felt the bizarre cooling sensation of the flames splashing over her more than once, but by the time she apparated back to Hogwarts she’d gotten pretty good at blocking Dumbledore’s spells with the water.

As she walked back to Gryffindor Tower, she decided that she had put it off long enough. She ducked into her dorm room to get her cloak, the golden egg, and the Marauder’s Map, then she made her way to the Prefect’s Bathroom under her cloak. She double-checked that there was no one in there, and she was very glad she did so when she saw the so-called bathroom for the first time.

Everything was made out of white marble, and the bath was the size of a regular swimming pool, only circular. There was a large central column that went all the way to the vaulted ceiling, and what had to be hundreds of taps jutted out from every inch of its surface at the waterline. As she took in the lovely soft lightning from the chandelier full of candles (scented, she noticed), Holly numbly turned the taps.

This was a far cry from the simple showers in Gryffindor towers. She suddenly had a very great desire to become a prefect next year, simply so she could use this bathroom. She’d patrol all the corridors Dumbledore and McGonagall wanted just to get regular access to this.

“Holly!?” a girl said, and Holly whipped around. She’d double-checked -

“Myrtle?” Holly asked, shocked. What was she doing here, Holly wondered.

“I come here after all the students have gone to bed. It’s really quite lovely, isn’t it?” Myrtle said.

“Um, yeah it’s something else, alright,” Holly said, very glad she was still dressed.

“Ohh, are you here to listen to your egg too?” Myrtle said, pointing to the golden egg Holly had laid on the floor.

“Yeah - what do you mean, too?”

“Oh, Cedric comes here to swim at night sometimes. He’s ever so kind to me... and the muscles don’t hurt. His bathing costume is so conservative, though. Urgh,” Myrtle said. Holly didn’t really want to think about that any further.

Thinking quickly, she put her things far away from the water and transfigured her uniform into the sort of swimming costume the girls in her swimming classes at primary school had worn. She wasn’t really sure what witches wore in situations like these, though it couldn’t be too different - although she didn’t think wizards had invented the sort of artificial fabrics muggles used.

After she saw herself in the mirror and felt a flash of shame and disgust, she quickly added one of those little skirts some muggle swimming costumes had. That was better, she thought.

Then, as the water had filled up and had all sorts of bizarre bubbles and colours, she jumped into the egregiously large bath with a high spirited giggle. After she’d had all sorts of fun confirming that while she could swim, she wasn’t very good at it, she plucked her wand and the egg from the edge of the bath.

She cast the bubblehead charm, and then sat on the bottom of the bath - which was deep enough that her feet didn’t reach the bottom - with the egg. Carefully, she opened it up. She winced as she did so, prepared for the wail Cedric had mentioned, but instead, she heard a chorus of melodic voices sing.

“Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you’re searching ponder this:

We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,

An hour long you’ll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour — the weight’s around your neck,

Too late, in the third you’ll be at the back,”

“Oh, I wonder what the merpeople are gonna do to you if you lose,” Myrtle said. She, of course, could talk just as well underwater as above it. Holly dismissed her charm and broke the surface of the water, only to be assaulted by the wail Cedric had mentioned. She quickly closed the egg and put it back on the side of the bath.

“Merpeople?” Holly asked.

“That was Mermish we just heard. What? I was in Ravenclaw, you know,” Myrtle said.

“What are they gonna do, build a huge tank and put a bunch of merpeople in it?” Holly asked.

“No, silly, ‘where our voices sound’ means the Black lake. You do know that a clan of merpeople live there, right?” Myrtle asked.

“Oh,” Holly said. So she’d just need to find a village of merpeople in the depths of the Black Lake and avoid been eaten by the giant squid and whatever else lived in there. Simple.

Chapter 57: Year Four, Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Text

“So that’s the task - find something at the bottom of the Black Lake, get it back from the merpeople, and make it to the starting point again in an hour,” Holly said, the next morning. Sirius and Remus were looking at her through the two-way mirror with remarkably similar looks of concern.

“And Dumbledore taught you the Bubblehead charm?” Sirius said, grinning a little. “That old cheat. We never could get one over him back when we were at school,” he continued.

“How’s your swimming?” Remus asked.

“Not great, but I’ve been practising,” Holly said. She’d spent some time after talking to Myrtle practising her swimming in the Prefect’s Bathroom. She’d probably want to practice in the lake itself once she got good enough at warming charms, though.

“There are a lot of nasty things in that lake, Holly,” Sirius said.

“You should be fairly prepared, based on how well you did last year - spells like ‘relashio’ will work on anything they’ll have you face down there. Remember that stunning and disarming charms will both go a fair way through water, too,” Remus said, and Holly nodded.

“So, got a date to the Ball yet?” Sirius asked, a mischievous fire in his eyes.

“I might,” Holly said.

“Who’s the lucky boy - or lady?” Sirius asked. Holly blushed and looked around to make sure no one was listening in, then she leant forwards.

“Ginny Weasley,” Holly whispered.

“Pay up, Sirius,” Remus said, grinning.

“You had a bet on who I’d go with?” Holly sputtered.

“Well, more of a friendly wager - ah, look, there’s the delivery elf now,” Sirius said, getting up. Holly laughed despite herself.

The entire school got more and more excited as the end of term approached and the Christmas decorations began to appear. Hagrid carried in huge trees, and the entire staff seemed to have gone all out in decorating to impress their foreign guests. The twelve trees that lined the great hall had all sorts of enchanted decorations, including a number of life-size, animated golden owls.

Enchanted, everlasting icicles decorated the staircases just as the first signs of snow began to appear. Hogwarts was, as Holly understood it, more prone to severe weather due to all the natural magic converging towards it. Sitting on such a large nexus of lay lines, the very air was charged with magic in a way that was very rare even in the wizarding world.

Holly enjoyed beating one of the Durmstrang teams at Quidditch on the second to last weekend of term. Viktor Krum, watching from the stands, had even called her flying ‘skilled’ - which, coming from the terse Quidditch prodigy, amounted to ‘incredible. She made sure to practise her swimming in the dead of night in the Prefect’s Bathroom, and then once Sirius had sent her a muggle swimming costume of the correct design she set to work on it.

Hermione and Ron managed to, between them, get the warming runes working well enough that Holly could have practised her swimming in the lake if it hadn’t been frozen over. The little red-stiched runes glowed softly, but there were no rules against enchanted swimwear in the second task - Holly had checked the official tournament rules.

Said rules were contained in a book roughly Holly’s size and contained a vast number of very specific possible offences. Holly was sure that all of them had happened at some point, and she was amazed to see that there were multiple rules preventing any possible formal duel between the judges and the champions.

Some of her teachers seem to have given up on getting any actual work done in the last week of term, but others had doubled down even harder. Professors Moody and McGonagall assigned even more homework and had even more demanding lessons. Holly thought she’d written more essays on bloodline curses and parchment to plate transfigurations than anyone should in a week.

“Found someone to go with you to the ball yet?” Ginny asked that Friday evening, as Ron walked back into the Common Room.

“As I matter of fact, I have,” Ron said smugly.

“Well, who is it? Did you end up with Eloise Midgen?” Ginny asked.

“As if I’m going to tell you lot! See how you like being left in the dark for a change,” Ron said. Holly rolled her eyes.

“So, Holly, are you going to compete in the Duelling Competition?” Hermione asked.

“I guess - Champions are allowed to, and it sounds like fun,” Holly said.

“What about you, Hermione? I reckon we could all do pretty well,” Ron said.

“It would be interesting to see how good I am at it practice... and hopefully if enough of us enter, one of us will get to beat Malfoy,” Hermione said, and they all laughed.

On the last weekend of term, there was no Quidditch match scheduled - and that was a good thing because it was pouring down rain. There was the next step of the Duelling Competition, however, and so Holly went down to the Great Hall on Saturday afternoon to find the usual tables gone. Instead, they had been replaced with a setup much as the Duelling Club had used.

There was a long, raised rectangular platform covered in a purple cloth, with steps leading up from both ends and cushions array around it. People were already gathering in huge numbers in the wooden stands lining the edge of the hall. Holly could guess why people had still turned up to watch despite it not being before a Quidditch game, but she didn’t really mind - at least she’d be doing something she was actually good at.

It wasn’t that she hated the public attention, but she wanted it to be for something she did - like Quidditch - and not simply because she was famous.

There were more unfamiliar Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students in the competitors’ area, and Holly grinned as she saw both Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson waiting there. Sending either of them flying off the stage in front of the whole school would make this a day she looked back on fondly.

“Ah, Miss Potter - you are going to be entering?” a girl in a Durmstrang uniform asked her. Her voice was accented, and Holly thought she might be German. She was tall for her age, fair-haired, and handsome in a sort of severe way.

“I am. Nice to meet you...?” Holy said as she held out her hand to the girl.

“Emeline Klossner. It is good to meet you because I have heard so much about you. Most of my classmates, and even those of my age in the internationals, are not much of a challenge, but you... you are renowned. I am eager to see if you live up to the legends,” Emeline said.

“I’ll give it my best shot, I suppose,” Holly said awkwardly. She thought Emeline was a little full of herself, but she was very good looking and Holly wanted deeply to impress her.

“Everyone here? Good, good - let’s get started. Miss Weasley against Mr Finch-Fletchly, I think,” Flitwick said from his position of the side of the stage.

“Good luck, Ginny,” Holly said softly.

Ginny trounced Justin Finch-Fletchly, blowing right through his weak shield charm with her stunning spell. Ron and Hermione also won their first matches, as did Draco Malfoy. Holly’s eyes narrowed as she saw his form - it was very formal but very good. He looked like he’d had some rather expensive training over the summer.

Then it was Holly’s turn, and she walked up the steps to the platform to face Pansy Parkinson. This, she thought, would be great fun. Pansy didn’t exactly look eager to duel the girl who fought a dragon, but she did take her place without wavering.

“Now - let’s have a clean duel, you two. Three, two, one... start!” Flitwick counted down, and Holly felt herself settle into an almost casual stance. She had half a mind to just pelt Pansy with hexes and jinxes for ten minutes, but that sort of thing was against the rules - if she extended the duel just o humiliate her opponent, she’d be disqualified.

So instead Holly simply raised her wand with frightening speed and disarmed Pansy before the other girl even had a chance to finish raising her wand, let alone speak. People cheered in the stands, although they seemed disappointed that Holly had ended it so quickly.

In the second round, Ginny was matched up against Emeline. The two girls took their positions, bowed, and then launched into a furious bout. Unlike the mostly one-sided affairs of the previous round, this duel was intense and drawn out. Ginny cast every spell she knew that was allowed in a duel like this with frightening speed - and Emeline matched her spell for spell.

Darts of light splashed against shield charms, hexes went flying wildly into the duelling wards surrounding the stage, and for a moment it seemed like both of them were evenly matched. Then Emeline seemed to move even faster, and she disarmed Ginny with a silent disarming charm.

“Hmphh. I expected better from the champion of the previous year,” Emeline said and threw Ginny’s wand back to her contemptuously. Holly glared at her - good looking or not, now she wanted to turn the German girl into a smear on the ground.

Hermione and Ron were matched against one another, then, and Holly felt very conflicted as to who to root for. They were almost evenly matched, Ron’s greater speed and accuracy making up for Hermione’s much greater spell knowledge. A lucky hit gave Hermione the win, and the two of them walked off the stage without any hard feelings.

“You did very well, Ron,” Hermione said as the two of them rejoined Holly and Ginny.

“Just don’t lose next round,” Ron said, slightly awkwardly.

Holly had another easy victory over a boy from Beauxbatons, her stunning spell lifting him clean of his feet. She revived him and helped him up, and he didn’t seem to take the loss too badly. She chatted with him for a while after, learning all about Beauxbatons and how Defence was taught there.

“Miss Potter, Mr Malfoy to start the third round!” Flitwick said, drawing their names on little strips of parchment from a hat. Holly grinned, eagre to get one over on Malfoy, but she paused when she saw him. He seemed nervous and not at all his usual confidant shelf. He took his polished formal stance, and Holly saw the desperation in his eyes.

At Flickwitck’s ‘start’ both Holly and Malfoy burst into action. Her disarming spell slammed into his jinx in mid-air, and they exploded in a shower of sparkling light. Holly was in constant, fluid motion - her wand movements flowing smoothly from one spell to the next without any reset or interruption. Malfoy was crisp, formal, and far better than he had been.

The two of them spent a few moments on the dance of spell and counterspell, jets of light being deflected off their shimmering shield charms in such number that it looked like the Weasley Twins had set off a firework in the Great Hall.

Holly was slightly faster than Malfoy, her more fluid form and better reflexes giving her the slightest edge in speed - but Malfoy, who’d clearly had training just for duels like this, had practised with the restricted spell selection of sporting duelling. Holly, whose experience was almost all in combative duelling, was finding her inability to fling powerful curses at Malfoy limiting.

Se cast another spell - but this was a transfiguration, and two wooden hands burst from the stage to grab at Malfoy. He turned his wand to blast at them, and Holly grinned.

“Stupefy!” she shouted, putting all the power she could into the spell. Malfoy whirled to defend himself, but he only had time for a basic deflection - not a full shield charm. Holly’s stunning spell cut through the weak barrier without so much as slowing down and it slammed into Malfoy. He was lifted off his feet and sent flying backwards from the sheer force of the spell, landing in a crumpled heap near the end of the stage.

Holly revived him and, in the spirit of sportsmanship, offered him help to get to his feet. Malfoy refused it and said nothing as he walked away. All the Gryffindors in the crowd cheered Holly, and then everyone but the Slytherins joined in - especially those of the right age to have been picked on by Malfoy.

She saw he was actually struggling to hold back tears. She felt bad looking at him because she could clearly see that he was very upset about losing to her. Then she dismissed that - what did she care if she’d ruined Malfoy’s dreams?

Hermione lost to Emeline much quicker than Ginny had, and so Holly knew that there was only one possible match for the final round - her versus Emeline. That, she thought, would be fun. Challenging, but fun.

Chapter 58: Year Four, Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Text

Emeline stood stock still, her wand down and her right foot slightly extended. She held her left arm behind her back and turned her torso to present a smaller target. Her face seemed to hold no expression at all, an emotionless mask and two cold, blue eyes staring out.

Holly stood in a stance as careful as Emeline’s, though less rigid. She felt her heart beat faster and faster as Flitwick counted down, and she knew that she had to win. She couldn’t let what Emeline had said to Ginny go unanswered.

“... start!” Flitwick announced, and both duellists sprung into motion with incredible speed. Holly cast a wordless disarming charm, whilst Emeline went for a wordless stunning spell. The two jets of light collided in midair and exploded, but neither duelist could pay much attention to the shower of sparks for more spells were already in the air.

Holly flowed from one spell to the next, not leaving any wasted movement resetting her wand to the neutral position. She cast a verbal stunning spell of such power that Emeline had to use a verbal shield charm to deflect it, but then the German girl’s more sport-oriented training began to show.

Emeline was just as fast as Holly, and as she recovered from the shield charm she managed to force Holly onto the defensive. Emeline’s spellfire wasn’t strong enough to batter through Holly’s shields, and Holly didn’t risk attacking. Instead, she held out behind her shield charm for a few seconds and watched Emeline’s movements.

Like Holly, she flowed from spell to spell without returning to the neutral position - but unlike Holly, there was a stiffness to her movements. They were crisp and well-executed, but there was something off...

And then Holly realised what it was. Emeline had clearly practised sequences of spells together rather than learning, as Holly had, to do it with any spell that would fit. Holly grinned just a little, and she knew now how she’d win.

At such a short distance in the open, dodging accurately cast spells was almost impossible. The ordinary adult witch or wizard would probably miss most of the spells they cast even from the short range of a sporting duel, but both Holly and Emeline were well trained, experienced duellists. They knew how to keep their cool under spellfire, even - in Holly’s case - lethal spellfire. At ten paces, neither of them would miss.

Emeline paused for the briefest moment and began a sequence Holly had seen before. She shielded against the disarming charm and the stunning spell, but when the body-bind curse flew towards her Holly did not shield herself. Instead, she stepped to the side. She knew what spell Emeline would cast, where she’d cast it from - and Holly had moved before Emeline had even finished the wand movement.

The body bind spell flew past Holly with only an inch or two to spare, but that was enough as she cast a nonverbal disarming charm with nearly superhuman speed. Emeline simply couldn’t move her wand to shield herself in time. Holly had picked the perfect moment, and she had started to cast her spell even as the jet of violet light from the body bind curse had been flying at her.

Holly’s disarming charm hit Emeline square in the chest, sending her flying backwards as Holly neatly plucked her wand from the air.

“Im-impossible. To dodge at such short range...” Emeline said from the ground. Holly dearly wanted to say something catty and mean, but she knew that it probably wouldn’t be wise. She’d just have to settle for the look of shock that was still on Emeline’s face as she shakily stood back up.

“And with that Miss Potter has won the fourth year competition. Congratulations to all who competed! Which champion will receive your boon, Miss Potter?” Flitwick asked.

“I think I’ll give it to myself, thanks,” She said, and even the Hufflepuffs in the audience laughed. “You did well,” Holly said, holding out her hand to Emeline. She reluctantly shook it.

“Not well enough. I think it is a good thing that you are too busy to be a sporting duelist... so I shall hope you play Quidditch for England one day,” Emeline said. Her friends from Durmstrang who had also competed then consoled her, and Flitwick followed Holly as she walked off the stage.

“That was very well done, Miss Potter, very well done. You caught her pattern, I’m assuming?” Flitwick asked.

“Uh, yes Professor,” Holly said.

“I thought you had... but still, to sidestep like that at ten paces - there are very few duellists who could have done that...” Flitwick said, before wandering off.

“That was incredible, mate,” Ron said.

“I’m glad you beat her. Imagine how smug she’d have been if she won,” Ginny said.

“Even Professor Flitwick seemed impressed. He was a champion duelist, you know...” Hermione said, and Holly spent the day basking in her victory.

They had an enormous amount of homework over the Winter holiday, but Holly didn’t let that dampen her good spirits. She and Hermione managed to get Ron and Ginny to finish their homework relatively early into the break, and so they were able to enjoy the week leading up to Christmas essentially unburdened by homework.

Fred and George had sold enough canary creams that the sight of someone suddenly bursting into feathers was now routine at Hogwarts, and everyone was on their guard when being offered food. People had gotten very good at concealing canary creams into other foods, and Holly was sure not to accept so much as a crisp from the Twins.

Snow had arrived at Hogwarts, and Holly had great fun in endless snowball fights. Everywhere in the castle, there was a mood of joy and fun, and Holly could not remember another Christmas holiday at Hogwarts like it. There were so many students here, most of them staying for the Yule Ball, that the usual empty halls and deserted common rooms were bursting with people.

Holly woke on Christmas morning not only excited to get her presents but for the Yule Ball. She had barely slept she was so nervous, but the idea of dancing with Ginny was an exciting one.

She smiled as she saw a new, somewhat haphazardly wrapped present on the top of her pile. Holly had sent Dobby a pair of novelty muggle socks via Hegwig last night. There was a Christmas tree in every dorm room in Gryffindor Tower, and each was decorated by the students in it. The one in Holly’s dorm room was full of transfigured decorations and enchanted tinsel.

“Merry Christmas, Holly,” Hermione said, and that set off a chorus of good wishes from and to all of the girls in the dorm room. Then they all rushed to open their presents. Holly opened Dobby’s gift first, and she smiled as she saw the pair of mismatching, animated socks he’d given her. Hermione had given Holly a book on Quidditch teams, whilst Holly had given her a book on the most outrageous cheaters of the Triwizard Tournament.

“Ohh, I’ve been wanting to read this one for a while! Thank you, Holly,” Hermione said.

“I gave it a little read before I wrapped it - some of those old headmasters and champions really did not try very hard not to get caught,” Holly said. She’d also gotten a bag of Peruvian instant darkness powder from Ron (who’d gotten it from the Twins), and a new wrist holster for her wand from Ginny. Sirius had given her two gifts - an enchanted pocket knife that could have many different blades and magical nail polish he claimed was “just about indestructible”. Hagrid had sent her a greatly appreciated box of sweets, and Mrs Weasley had sent her usual gifts of a hand-knitted sweater and some mince pies.

Holly gladly put on the green sweater, because the snow was already falling outside, and she and Hermione went downstairs to the Common Room. Ginny thanked Holly profusely for the broom-servicing kit Holly had given her, as did Ron for the new keeper’s pads. They spent most of the morning simply lounging around in the Common Room, enjoying their presents.

That afternoon was Christmas lunch at Hogwarts on a scale Holly had never before seen. More than a hundred turkeys lined the tables of the great hall, and there were traditional Christmas foods from France and Scandanavia much like at the feast to welcome the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.
Holly had wanted to have another snowball fight, but the wind had started up and it was snowing too hard to really be outside so she ended up hanging out in the Common Room until a few hours before the Ball. She was a ball of nerves as she headed upstairs along with Hermione and Ginny (to the disbelief of Ron that anyone could take that long to get dressed).

The actual act of getting into her green dress robes would not take all that long, but doing her hair, her makeup and glamour charms? That would take a while, and there was a huge line to use the girl’s showers. The sound of hair drying charms could be heard throughout the tower, and Holly used the time it took her now well past shoulder-length hair to dry to apply the enchanted nail polish Sirius had given her for Christmas.

She had her hair up after that, with a little help from Lavender Brown, and then she did her makeup. Not wanting to look like a racoon, she politely tuned Lavender’s help down that time. She felt odd and silly spending so much time on her appearance, but she was startled when looked into the mirror and saw a very pretty girl there.

“You look amazing, Holly,” Hermione said from behind her, and Holly turned to respond only to see something very odd. Hermione’s voice was coming out of someone else’s mouth because the girl in the pink dress robes could not be her bushy-haired friend.

“So- so do you, Hermione. How did you - your hair?” Holly said, not quite able to speak in complete sentences.

“Entirely too much hair potion to ever do it again, I’m afraid. But... I need to go meet my date, and I can’t be seen. Lend me your cloak?” Hermione asked. Holly blinked.

“Sure,” Holly said, and opened up her trunk. She handed the cloak to Hermione and then wondered what that was all about.

Just after Hermione left, there was a knock on the door. Holly’s heart jumped as she realised who it would be. She got up and opened the door, and saw Ginny standing there. Her dress robes were second hand, true, but someone had completely transformed them. She wasn’t wearing as much makeup as even the girls in Holly’s year, but there were just a few glamour charms on her face...

“You look beautiful,” Holly told her, and took her hand almost hesitantly.

“So do you,” Ginny said, and then there was a shriek of excitement from behind Holly.

“That’s who you’re going with! I can’t believe it - oh the two of you look so cute together!” Lavender said, and then the rest of the girls swarmed Ginny and Holly.

“I can’t believe you actually did it, Ginny,” Parvati said, shaking her head.

“Let’s go down, yeah?” Holly said to Ginny, and they walked down into the Common Room holding hands. There was a commotion as they walked down together, although they were not the only couple that descended from the dorms together. It was strange to see so many people dressed up in colourful dress robes in the Common Room, Holly thought.

“I can’t believe it. Are my eyes working right, George?” Fred said.

“I think they are, Fred. Is that our devilish little sister with Holly?” George said.

“Don’t make me come over there, you two. And don’t be weird to Holly!” Ginny said.

“We’d never be weird to Holly. She’s a lovely girl who you better treat right, young lady!” Fred said.

“We’re warning you - we’ll be right cross if you mess around with her feelings,” George followed up, waging his finger. Holly laughed and then so did Ginny and the Twins.

After finding out that Ron had already gone down to the Entrance Hall, and reasoning that Hermione was likely already there, Holly and Ginny decided to head down there. When they arrived, they saw no sign of Hermione... but Ron was easy to spot.

He was standing next to Luna Lovegood, who was dressed in a bizarre set of neon blue dress robes and had a pair of dirigible plum earrings on. She and Ron were chatting to one another, and laughing a little.

“Ron!? Luna!?” Ginny said.

“Ginny!? Holly!?” Ron said.

Holly and Luna looked at one another and tried very hard not to laugh.

“So that’s who you were going with. I guess if you had to go with anyone Holly’s alright...” Ron said.

“You really did have a date,” Ginny said, sounding surprised.

“Well, I was talking to Luna about the ball, and we both thought it’d be a huge laugh if we went together. So I asked her,” Ron said, and Holly smiled.

She was already enjoying tonight, and she thought she’d remember it fondly, so long as she didn’t trip whilst trying to dance.

Chapter 59: Year Four, Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Text

Holly’s surprise at Ron’s date - and his own surprise to see Holly and Ginny going to the ball together - was nothing next to their surprise when Hermione entered the Hall. Holly had seen her with her sleek hair and periwinkle-blue dress robes in their dorm, of course, but the candlelight of the Entrance Hall cast them in an even more impressive light.

Ron and Ginny had never seen Hermione so dressed up, and it took Ron a moment to work out who Hermione was. She’d done something to her teeth, Holly now realised, and then she cast her gaze on who Hermione was with.

“She’s - she’s with Viktor Krum?” Ron sputtered, incredulously. Holly’s eyes went wide with surprise - she had not expected Hermione to be here as a date to one of the champions. But here she was, walking into the Entrance Hall arm in arm with the international Quidditch star and Triwizard Champion.

“I think Hermione might need to watch her back. Half the girls in Hogwarts were angling to go with Krum,” Ginny said.

“I suppose he’s handsome enough, but he looks a bit dour,” Luna said in her sing-song voice.

“Champions, champions - over here!” McGonagall said, her voice cutting through the bustle and noise of the Entrance Hall.

“I guess we better go,” Holly said to Ginny, and she nodded back. They made their way through the crowd, and Holly saw the other champions for the first time that night. Cedric was with Cho, and that didn’t seem nearly so bad now. Rodger Davies, a stunned-looking Ravenclaw, was Fleur’s date.

“Good, you’re all here on time. Please wait here, by the doors - you’ll enter when the other students have sat down,” Professor McGonagall said. She was wearing dress robes made from red tartan and had a wreathe of thistles on her hat.

Holly and the rest of the champions lined up a little awkwardly just to the side of the doors, and the horde of students began to pile into the Hall. Holly felt a little out of place standing next to the radiant Fleur, but she tried not to let that bother her.

Then, after all the students had entered, the champions were called forth. McGonagall had them form a line in pairs, and then they walked slowly into a very changed Great Hall. Gone were the long House tables - instead, there were hundreds of smaller, circular tables. Each was lit by a floating lantern, and the light from the tiny fires caused the numerous ice decorations to glitter like crystal.

Everyone applauded as the champions entered, but then Holly heard a few boos as she and Ginny walked into the room. She kept her gaze locked straight ahead, and whoever had made them as quickly shushed.
The champions and their dates joined the staff up at the top tables, along with Ludo Bagman and Mrs Hull. Bagman wore eye-searingly yellow dress robes, whilst Mrs Hull wore a set of plain black dress robes that looked rather out of fashion... as far as Holly knew anything about Wizarding fashion.

Holly and Ginny ended up sitting between Bagman and Cedric, and with only a brief glance Holly knew Ginny felt as out of place up here as she did. They were both much younger than anyone else at the table save Hermione, and both of them were a fair bit shorter than her.

“Excellent performance in the first task, my dear. Just excellent - the way you sent that dragon flying backwards. Come with a friend, have you? A wise-” Bagman began, but Holly cut him off.

“Ginny’s not here as my friend, Mr Bagman,” Holly said. Her voice was polite, but both she and Bagman could understand the firmness that measured tone held.

“Right, right. Say, lass, you’re the reserve seeker for Gryffindor, aren’t you? Not too surprising then...” Bagman said but seemed to think better of continuing.

Instead of the usual platters piled high with food, there were instead small menus by every plate. Holly picked up hers and scanned through a list of eclectic offerings. For the main course, there was everything from roast duck to goulash (though why anyone would want to eat goulash whilst wearing expensive dress robes on a date was beyond Holly). The options for starters were even more bizarre, including wizarding dishes that Holly had never heard of.

She and Ginny had great fun looking through the menus, trying not to giggle at one another. As Holly ordered her food from the House Elves below, as she assumed the system worked, she was surprised to see not a goblet of pumpkin juice appear next to her food, but rather a goblet of wine.

“You got wine too, huh?” Ginny whispered to Holly in a low voice. Holly supposed it made sense - the champions were all supposed to be of age.

“I’m gonna try it and hope no one notices,” Holly whispered back, and she tried the wine. It was both sweet and bitter, but it burned much less than the only other ‘real’ alcohol she’d tried, firewhiskey.

No one did seem to notice, perhaps because Ludo Bagman then spilled goulash over himself loudly. The brown-red soup stained his bright yellow robes rather noticeably, and he spent a good minute taking a napkin to them before getting out his wand.

“How’s the wine, Holly?” Cedric said very casually, and Holly nearly spat duck all over her plate.

“It - it’s not bad,” Holly said, her voice a little squeaky.

“Do you think Ron and Luna are having a good time?” Ginny asked Holly.

“Judging by how they tore through... whatever that is, I think they’re at least enjoying the food,” Holly said. The Elves had gone all out for the Ball, making dozens of masterful dishes from half of Europe that could be ordered at will by the witches and wizards in the Great hall.

“You’ve never seen a roast Prowler Piglet before?” Ginny asked, curious.

“No, and after seeing one cooked and eaten, I’d really rather not meet a live one,” Holly said. In her opinion, roast meat should not include so many teeth.

The conversation at the top table was eclectic, to say the least. Holly overheard conversations about the secret protections of Durmstrang, Viktor Krum learning to say Hermione’s name, and a secret bathroom that would only appear to those truly in need.

Eventually, everyone had finished their food and Dumbledore stood up. As he did so, all the plates, goblets, and cutlery vanished into thin air.

“If you would all stand and welcome our musical guests for the evening, the Weird Sisters,” Dumbledore said, and then he waved his wand. The tables seemed to lift into the air in a complicated dance, until they and the chairs were all neatly lined up along the sides of the Hall. There was now also a stage with an assortment of instruments on it.

Several extremely hair wizards, dressed all in black, artfully-shredded robes emerged onto the small stage. They took up their instruments, and Holly was so transfixed by their bizarre appearance that she momentarily forgot that she was at a dance. Then she saw the rest of the champions heading out onto the dance floor.

Ginny led her there, hand in hand, and they managed well enough for the champion’s first dance. Both of them had only basic instruction in this kind of formal dancing, but their natural agility allowed them to do well enough not to embarrass themselves. The music was restrained - classical and formal - until that first dance ended.

“This dancing’s not so bad,” Holly said.

“Maybe you’re catching the excess happiness from most of my childhood fantasies being fulfilled at once,” Ginny mumbled.

Cedric and Cho were the picture of grace, outshining even Fleur with their coordinated dancing. After a few minutes, the Weird Sisters switched to something a little faster, and the rest of the school swarmed the dance floor.

Holly and Ginny, now no longer the centre of attention, danced for some time. They quickly abandoned their half-taught formal dancing for the wild energy only a crowd of teenagers really has. The Weird Sisters too began to pick up the pace, playing all their popular hits but occasionally mixing in a bizarre waltz interlude. Holly was fairly certain that wasn’t how these things were supposed to happen, but then they were a wizarding band. Who knew what odd notions they had?

They made their way off the dance floor during one of the waltz periods, managing to slip away from the crowd. They found Ron and Hermione arguing about something, whilst Luna was dancing with Neville. She managed to expertly evade his clumsy steps and Holly laughed fondly.

“And what’s so wrong with Viktor?” Hermione said.

“He’s from Durmstrang!” Ron replied.

“So? He’s been nothing but lovely to me so far,”

“They’re bad news. No muggleborn students, dark arts classes...”

“Let’s get some air, yeah?” Ginny said, and Holly indeed. They left Ron and Hermione to their argument as Hagrid and Madame Maxime began to cut a wide swathe through the dance floor. Holly smiled seeing her friend enjoying himself on what must be a very rare occasion. Fred and George were accosting Ludo bagman, and the Ministry official began to look rather worried.

Holly and Ginny walked out through the Entrance Hall, and they saw that the grounds seemed to have been covered in a maze of rosebushes, stone benches, and fairy lights. A light dusting of snow added to the ambience, and they set off down one of the paths hand in hand. They managed to avoid the older students - mostly by sound - and found somewhere relatively secluded.

She sat down next to Ginny, and they both looked up at the star-filled sky without saying anything for a few moments.

“I’m - I’m having a really good time, holly. Are we more... is this more than tonight?” Ginny asked hesitantly. Neither of them had discussed it in those terms, but the question hung over them, unsaid and yet still evident.

“I don’t - I don’t know,” Holly said, and she knew it was not what she wanted to say at once. Her heart was beating rapidly, and it screamed at her a different answer. Ginny looked hurt for a moment, and then Holly acted. It was completely on the spur of the moment, and it was barely the product of conscious thought.

She kissed Ginny softly on the lips. It was little more than a chaste kiss, and a clumsy one at that, but it was enough. Part of Holly was screaming at her that this was shameful, or wrong, but she knew that was the part of her that still lived in the cupboard under the stairs. She understood, now, what the older students were on about.

“I’d - I’d like it to be more than tonight,” Holly said. She felt like she was stumbling about in the dark, but that was what felt right to her. Her cheeks were bright red, but her smile was wider than she could ever remember.

“So would I,” Ginny said, and she leant her head against Holly’s shoulder. “I don’t really know much about, you know, having a girlfriend,” Ginny continued.

“Neither do I. It can’t be that hard, though,” Holly said.

“I think I’ll kiss you next. That way we’re nice and even,” Ginny said, as they stood back up and made their way back towards the Great Hall. It seemed that they had picked the perfect time to leave the rose garden because Snape and Karkaroff were wandering up and down it blasting couples out of bushes. They were arguing about something, too, but Holly was in far too good a mood to pay much attention to that. Or to what Hagrid was saying to Madame Maxime, for that matter.

The rest of the night passed in a swirl of euphoria for Holly. She drank something that was probably firewhiskey, danced with Luna, Cedric, and Cho all one after the other, and then danced to the last song - a slow, romantic number - with Ginny. She still wasn’t a great dancer, but she had fun anyway.

As all good things do, the Yule Ball ended. Holly staggered up to her dorm room, tired from all the dancing, and as she collapsed straight into her bed she had the biggest grin on her face she could ever remember.

Chapter 60: Year Four, Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Text

Hermione’s hair was back to normal on Boxing Day. Holly thought she looked a little sad about that, but it really had been a lot of hair potions. Holly herself had to spend ten minutes cancelling malfunctioning glamour charms in front of her mirror.

“Did you enjoy the Ball, Holly?” Hermione asked, reading through a dry looking book on the history of transmutive alchemy.

“I’m still not sold on dancing, but it was pretty fun,” Holly said, blushing when she thought about the kiss she and GInny had shared.

“I noticed Ginny seemed very happy about something,” Hermione said.

“We’re - I guess we’re girlfriends? Oh, Merlin Hermione, I kissed her,” Holly said. She didn’t regret it, but it had been rather a spur of the moment decision.

“I’m happy for you Holly. I know she can help you when... when things are hard,” Hermione said, not quite finding the right words.

“I don’t need help,” Holly said, instinctively. She felt the faintest tremor in her wand hand.

“I think we both know that’s a lie, Holly. Everyone needs help sometimes - even heroines with no sense of self-preservation,”

“I’ve got a sense of self-preservation,” Holly mumbled. Hermione merely raised one eyebrow and went back to her book.

They met up with Ron and Ginny in the Common Room, which was still mostly deserted. Holly cuddled up next to Ginny on one of the faded red couches, the cold very noticeable now the fire was just embers.

“You’ll never believe what I overheard last night,” Ron said, not even blinking when he saw Holly and Ginny.

“What?” Hermione asked, interested.

“Well, Hagrid was talking to Madame Maxime, and apparently he’s a half-giant!” Ron said, looking around to make sure nobody could overhear. Ginny gasped, Holly blinked, and Hermione looked mostly unphased.

“Well of course he is, Ronald,” Hermione said, her tone matter-of-fact.

“Is being a half-giant bad?” Holly asked. She didn’t know much about giants, but she couldn’t imagine Hagrid being all that bad. He might love ‘interesting critters’ but he was kinder than almost anyone Holly had met.
“I’m not saying Hagrid’s bad... but you know about giants,” Ron said, looking very uncomfortable.

“I don’t know about giants,” Holly replied.

“Well, they’re - they’re not very nice. Hagrid said as much himself - they just really like killing,” Ron said.

“Okay, but Hagrid’s about as harmless as a nine-foot-tall man could be,” Holly said.

“And you’re pretty firmly on the side of good, but people still thought you were a dark witch for being a parselmouth,” Ginny said, looking at Holly meaningfully. Neither of them was all too eager to use their ability to talk to snakes in public.

“There aren’t any giants in Britain, though - the last ones were wiped out before the Statute of Secrecy. I wonder how Hagrid’s parents met...” Hermione said.

The last few days of their Christmas holiday passed quickly, with everyone feeling rather spent from the Yule Ball. Quite a few Gryffindors were frantically working on the homework they’d put off in the Common Room, so Holly and her friends often wandered the halls and the snow-covered ground during the day.

Holly and Ginny were a little more affectionate with one another - often holding hands or sitting next to one another. Holly kissed her girlfriend occasionally, which was a thought that seemed amazing to her every time she had it. Ron made faces if they kissed in front of him, despite the very tame nature of it.

On the first day of the new term, Holly and her friends received a very unpleasant surprise at breakfast. The front page of the Daily Prophet bore a huge article by Rita Skeeter all about how Hagrid was a half-giant and full of baseless accusations. Some of them were really stretching the limits of plausibility, even for Skeeter, Holly thought - how many people would believe that Goyle had been badly bitten by a flobberworm?

“This is... this Skeeter bitch has gone too far,” Hermione said as they walked towards Care of Magical Creatures, and Holly was amazed to hear Hermione use language like that. Her bookish friend might not be so rules-bound after all their adventures, but Holly had never heard her swear before.

“How’d she know is the question, isn’t it? Luna and I were the only ones there apart from Hagrid or Madame Maxime. Neither of them would tell Skeeter that stuff,” Ron said.

“Are you sure Skeeter didn’t find out some other way?” Holly asked.

“Some of the stuff she printed was pretty specific - Hagrid said he’d never told anyone about some of it,” Ron replied.

“Are you sure about Luna?” Hermione asked.

“Her dad runs a - well, judging by this rubbish, a competing paper. It’s full of stories about crumple-horned snorcacks and made-up conspiracies. She hates the Daily Prophet, and Skeeter even more. Madame Maxime... well she denied it to Hagrid, but she’s gotta be one too, yeah?” Ron said. Hermione nodded slowly, obviously thinking hard.

“Maybe she’s a legilimens? Doing a reading with just eye contact is pretty hard, but she might be that good,” Holly said.

“Maybe she’s got an invisibility cloak?” Ron offered.

They had arrived at Care of Magical Creatures by that point, however, and Hagrid wasn’t waiting for them. Instead, an elderly witch with close-cropped grey hair stood waiting for them outside of Hagrid’s Cabin.

“Hurry up now, the bell rang five minutes ago!” she said, her voice sharp and measured.

“Who’re you?” Ron asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Professor Grubbly-Plank. I am your temporary Care of Magical Creatures Professor - now, get a move on or it’s detention for the lot of you,” she said and started to herd them all towards the edge of the woods.

The gigantic winged horses that the Beauxbatons carriage used to fly were here, tethered on very long leashes. Standing a little to the side of them, however, was a smaller animal - it was only the size of a regular horse. The unicorn, with pure white hair and a long horn, was not tied down or enclosed in a paddock. It simply stood, looking relaxed, near the winged horses.

Many of the girls whispered excitedly when they saw it, and Holly was intrigued. She didn’t know much about unicorns beyond what Hagrid had told her in her first year, and that they were magically powerful enough for their tail-hairs to work as wand cores.

“Boys to the back now - they get nervous around you. Girls, you can approach,” Professor Grubbly-Plank said, and without thinking about it Holly walked forward with the other girls. Grubbly-Plank put her arm out and caught Holly, stopping her from getting any closer.

“I said boys to the back, Potter. Five points from Gryffindor for disobeying safety-” the Professor began, and the entire class seemed to take in a breath. Holly felt like someone had kicked her in the gut.

“She’s not a boy, Professor,” Hermione said. Her voice was calm but firm, and she looked the older witch right in the eye.

“Potions alone cannot replicate the sacred feminine aura of-” Grubbly-Plank said, but Holly ignored her. Hermione standing up for her had given her the time to react, and so she simply walked towards the Unicorn. It neighed at her softly but didn’t seem at all bothered. Indeed, it nuzzled its nose against Holly, and she gently patted it.

For the rest of the lesson, Grubbly-Plank kept glaring at Holly, and she found any excuse to dock her points. The whole lesson was unpleasant at best, and to make it even worse Hagrid wouldn’t emerge from his cabin to talk to Holly afterwards. Pansy Parkinson kept making snide comments about Hagrid, and about Holly, which went unpunished by Grubbly-Plank.

Care of Magical Creatures, which Holly had always enjoyed, was now her least favourite class. Hagrid wasn’t seen at all that first week, and Holly was getting worried about him. He was clearly very upset about the article, and she wished she knew some way to help her friend.

Holly soon started practising her swimming in the Black Lake, the warming runes sewed into her swimming costume allowing her to swim in it without freezing to death. She sometimes saw the other champions there, though only Krum looked to be practising his swimming like her. Cedric and Fleur both disappeared beneath the surface, scouting out the lake.

She did the same one chilly Friday, diving beneath the surface with her bubblehead charm active. It was hard to see in the dark water, but she was able to get a basic layout of the bottom of the lake during the first week of term. She knew where the merpeople lived, where most of the creatures dwelled - and that the giant squid was indeed very, very large.

Halfway through January, there was a Hogsmeade Weekend. Ginny was very excited, as it was only her second time visiting the magical village. Neither she nor Holly was the type to enjoy Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop, but they still walked around the village together. Ron and Hermione went into the Three Broomsticks, and Holly could see them bickering over a game of chess as she walked down the main street of Hogsmeade.

“Those two really do enjoy arguing, huh?” Holly said. She really didn’t understand it, and it made her uncomfortable - but she knew she’d never get them to stop.

“It’s barmy. Ooooh, they have new training snitches - let’s go look,” Ginny said, pointing to the sporting goods shop. They wandered all over Hogsmeade, not doing anything all that different from a usual visit to the village on their date - save that Ginny kissed her once or twice. Holly thought that was pretty good, as far as these things went.

When they returned to the Three Broomsticks to meet back up with their friends, however, they arrived to find Hermione screaming at someone. Holly’s first thought was that she and Ron had gotten into a real argument, but then she realised what Hermione was saying - and who she was shouting at.

“-You really don’t care, do you! You’ll hurt whoever it takes for some... cheap tabloid rubbish - ‘bad bite from a flobberworm’!? Did you ever have a single shred of journalistic integrity, or were you born a heartless-”

“Shut up, you silly little girl. You’re making my ears ring. Merlin, who do you think you are talking to me like that?” Rita Skeeter said, coldly.

“Someone with half a brain!” Hermione retorted, and then she turned towards the exit of the pub and dragged Ron with her. Holly and Ginny followed their friends out, eyes wide.

“Are you okay, Hermione?” Holly asked.

“Do I look okay? I just screamed at a journalist... at least my parents don’t read the Daily Prophet, so there’s not all that much she can really do,” Hermione said.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Hermione - Rita Skeeter’s one nasty lady. We still don’t know how she found out about Hagrid, remember?” Ginny said.

“Hmmph. We’ll see. And on the topic of Hagrid, he’s not hiding any longer,” Hermione said and started charging off towards Hagrid’s hut. Holly followed her, and then a second later so did Ron and Ginny.

Chapter 61: Year Four, Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Text

“Hagrid! I know you’re in there - open up!” Hermione shouted as she pounded on his door. Holly, Ginny, and Ron rushed to catch up to her, and they arrived just in time to see the door to Hagrid’s hut swing open.

“About -” Hermione began but cut herself off with a high pitched squeak when she realised that it was Albus Dumbledore, not Hagrid, who was standing in the doorway.

“Good afternoon, Miss Granger. Perhaps you and your friends should come inside,” Dumbledore said, standing aside to let them in. Holly walked into Hagrid’s hut, and the first thing she noticed was a strong smell of firewhiskey.

“Hi, Hagrid,” Holly said, not really sure what to say to him. Hagrid looked up, and for a moment Holly saw happiness on his face. Then it disappeared into a sort of long-term glumness.

“‘Lo,” Hagrid said, his voice hoarse.

“Everything - everything okay, Hagrid?” Holly asked, sitting down on one of the oversized chairs that littered the hut.

“I’ll make some tea, yeah?” Ron said and headed over to boil some water.

“I think that is an ample demonstration of what I have been telling you, Hagrid. These young students still seem to want to know you,” Dumbledore said, placing a hand on Hagrid’s huge shoulder.

“It’s not the students-” Hagrid began, but Hermione seemed to have gathered her courage.

“You can’t listen to what that... woman says, Hagrid. She’s just completely awful and - well, come back. Please,” Hermione said.

“Hermione’s right, Hagrid. I know how much teaching Care of Magical Creatures means to you. Don’t let Rita Skeeter take it away from you... and we miss you, you know?” Holly said.

“Exactly the sentiments that I have been bombarded with from concerned parents who remember you from their own days at Hogwarts, Hagrid,” Dumbledore said.

“Not - not all of ‘em,” Hagrid said, wiping away tears.

“If you are intent on waiting for universal popularity, Hagrid, you shall be here for a very long time indeed,” Dumbledore said, a little more sternly. His eyes gazed very intently at Hagrid through his half-moon spectacles.

“And Professor Grubbly-Plank is awful. She keeps taking points off Holly because she’s a prejudiced-” Hermione said, and then she looked at Dumbledore and didn’t finish the sentence.

“Do go on, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said lightly, but Holly could recognise the tone in his voice.

“Well, she’s just been treating Holly really unfairly - saying she’s not a real girl because of some stupid aura,” Hermione said.

“I’ll be back at work on Monday, Headmaster. I won’t stand for that, not in my class,” Hagrid said, sitting up. His face was still streaked with tears, but he looked determined.

“A sentiment I share, Hagrid. I shall expect you at dinner tonight in the castle - good afternoon to you all,” Dumbledore said, standing as he did so. He walked out of the hut, and hagrid looked at Holly, Hermione, and Ginny. Ron arrived then with the tea.

“I’ve been right silly about this. I’m sorry you had to go through that ‘cause of me, Holly,” Hagrid said.

“It’s not your fault, Hagrid,” Holly said.

“I shouldn’t’a just sat around moping. My old dad would be right ashamed of me, he would. Never shown you lot a picture of him, have I?” Hagrid said, and he stood up. He got out an old, faded, wizarding photograph. Hagrid, clearly very young but still about seven feet tall, towered over a short wizard. Holly could see the resemblance, though - the eyes, she thought.

“He had that taken just after I got into Hogwarts. He was so happy - though I might not be able to on account of... on account of my mum. Died in my second year... Dumbledore was the only one who stood up for me after he died. Got me the job as gamekeeper, let me teach. Greta man, Dumbledore - gives people second chances. Let’s anyone who can do magic come to Hogwarts, even if their family ain’t, uh, ain’t all that respectable - or if they turn into a fuzzy little critter every month. Not a lot of headmasters who’d stick their neck out for a half-giant or werewolf. Certainly not the two louts from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang... big-boned - what bollocks!” Hagrid said, and Ron suddenly looked very nervous for some reason.

“You know what, Holly? You reminded me of me a little bit when you first got here. Mum and dad gone, feeling like you weren’t quite up to it - and look at you now! Order of Merlin, school champion, youngest seeker in a century...” Hagrid said.

“I - I didn’t really do all of that on purpose. Someone entered me, and-” Holly said.

“I know that. But I reckon you probably deserved that award more than most of the tossers they give it to. And... you know what I’d love?” Hagrid said, now looking at Holly quite seriously. “I’d love for you to win it, Holly. Show ‘em all you don’t have to be some pureblood who fits in all the boxes. That you don’t have to be ashamed of who you are,” Hagrid continued.

“I’ll give it my best shot, Hagrid,” Holly said, grinning.

“Hah, I reckon you will,” Hagrid said.

Holly’s classes were soon back in full swing. She cruised through learning banishing in charms, having already mastered the spell and got several headaches learning basic spell analysis in arithmancy. Hagrid seemed determined to outdo Professor Grubbly-Plank, and he held several lessons on Unicorns - which it turned out he did know quite a bit about. He even had a lesson with several golden-haired unicorn foals, who didn’t have the same nervousness around boys as full-grown unicorns, so that the boys could have some hands-on experience.

She kept up her training for the tournament, and while she wasn’t a great swimmer, she was in good enough shape that she was now a good enough one. She also learnt, after inquiring with Professor Dumbledore at one of her Occlumency lessons, how to transfigure her socks into flippers. That would let her make up the speed on the other champions, who were all older and taller than she was.

Hermione, Ginny, and Ron all helped Holly hone her duelling - and soon she was facing two of her friends at once to make things even. She was casting faster and had most of the spells she was likely to use in the competition down silently now.

One cold January night, the four of them snuck out to Holly’s hidden potions lab in the disused secret passage. Holly looked at her friends, their faces lit only by the glow of the liquid moonlight in their Animagus potions.

“Are you all sure you want to do this?” Holly asked.

“I’m sure,” Ginny said, her voice quiet but firm.

“‘Course I am, mate,” Ron said.

“Holly, if you don’t hand over that potion I’m going to hex you,” Hermione said. Holly handed Hermione’s potion back, having finished looking at it. There seemed to be no obvious defects, just like Ron and Ginny’s, but she couldn’t know until they transformed.

It was nerve-racking to watch her friends take the potion, each vial being struck by lightning and glowing bright silver. She remembered waiting only moments for her two heartbeats to merge into one, and for her first transformation to be complete.

None of her friends managed a full transformation that night, but they all knew their forms. Hermione shared the rare trait, like Holly’s father, of having the same Animagus and Patronus forms - an otter, in Hermione’s case. Hermione seemed very happy with that form, and Holly supposed that an aquatic animal like that might be a very useful form - able on land, but excellent in water.

Ginny too was happy with her form - a goshawk. By the end of the night, she’d mastered the trick of transforming just her eyes, allowing her superior vision in her human form - and giving her disconcertingly orange eyes. Holly had never even thought to try it.

But it was Ron who was the proudest of his Animagus form. Where Ginny had manifested her form’s eyes and Hermione a coat of fur, Ron had manifested a huge lion’s mane. He spent the entire night, and most of the next few days, grinning like a madman.

January seemed to disappear in a flash of classes, and February seemed frighteningly fast too. Holly played another Quidditch match, winning against a team from Beauxbatons, but the fifth year duelling competition wasn’t until after the second task - to avoid too many boons being handed out, Holly suspected.

Then, feeling as if very little time had passed since Christmas to Holly, it was the night before the Second Task. She and her friends were relaxing in the Common Room, sitting in their usual seats a good distance from the fire. They were all playing a game of exploding snap when Professor McGonagall walked through the portrait hole and approached them.

“Miss Weasley, Miss Granger - may I have a word?” McGonagall, at the exact moment the cards exploded. After the small puff of smoke cleared away, they all looked up.

“Um, sure Professor. What about?” Ginny asked.

“Tournament business, I’m afraid,” McGonagall said, and Holly’s eyes narrowed. What could McGonagall want with Ginny and Hermione - unless, a very unpleasant thought struck her, she wouldn’t be retrieving an object from the merpeople after all. Would the Tournament organisers really use hostages?

Ginny and Hermione left with McGonagall, and the next morning they were indeed not in Gryffindor Tower. Holly felt her worry grow - surely they wouldn’t be in danger, but what if something went wrong? Spells could fail, and wizards weren’t exactly known for being very careful about this sort of thing, she thought. The song didn’t mention any consequences for the hostages, but...

Holly was shocked out of her worry by Ron, who was waving his hand in front of her face. He was sitting opposite her on the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. A platter of bacon separated them, and it was tall enough that it was almost hard for Holly to see over.

“You awake, Holly?” Ron said.

“Yeah - just...” she began, but Ron seemed too worked up to listen much.

“Look, do you know where Ginny or Hermione is? Nobody’s seen either of them this morning,” Ron said.

“I’m fairly certain they’re currently safely at the bottom of the Black Lake,” Holly said.

“You’re kidding me, mate,” Ron said, but Holly shook her head. Something had caught her eye, however, and so she didn’t respond. Ludo Bagman was at the staff table, and she had to know if her friends were in danger.

Holly had never done it without the verbal spell, but the whispers made it easy. She simply caught Bagman’s gaze for a moment and pushed. He had some simple defences, but they were useful only against a surface reading - and only if Bagman knew that she was in his head. As Holly rifled through recent memories about gambling debts and goblins, she knew Bagman had no idea she was in his mind.

Then she found it and left his mind. Her friends would be safe after all - even if she failed, no harm would come to them. She felt faintly dirty for reading Bagman’s mind, but she had been so worried about Ginny and Hermione. Still, that justification did very little to banish the sense of unease she felt as she walked out to the Lake.

A huge set of wooden stands had been constructed out on the shore of the lake, along with a wooden platform in the middle with all sorts of bronze pipes running from it. A chair similar to the one Bagman had used at the world cup, with dozens of omninoculars and a microphone, was visible on the platform too.

As she got changed into her swimming costume in the Champion’s tent, Holly felt confidant. She knew what she had to do, the route she needed to take. Her bubblehead charm would hold long enough, and she knew how to cast spells - how to duel - underwater. She strapped her wand holster to her forearm, and the enchanted knife Sirius gave her for Christmas to her ankle then put on a pair of old socks.

As she stepped out of the changing booth, Cedric gave her socks a very odd look. Then all the champions headed out to the shore, where they’d receive their boons and the Second Task would begin.

Chapter 62: Year Four, Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Text

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the second task of the Triwizard Tournament! Now, you may be wondering why our champions are getting ready for a swim in February. A hostage, one dear to each champion, has been taken - and they will have one hour to get them back from the bottom of the Black Lake. Failure to do so... will have dire consequences for their chances in the Third Task,” Bagman explained through his enchanted microphone.

Holly was glad of the warming charm on her swimming costume (and for the skirt) as she stood on the rocky shore of the Black lake. There was already a cold, howling wind blowing across the lake, and Holly knew the thick grey clouds promised rain sooner or later. People were looking at her a little oddly. Probably, she thought, because of the socks.

“Each champion will be scored on their speed, their use of magic, and their gallantry. Now, as to their boons - my counterpart in International Magical Relations is handing those out now! Congratulations to all of you who won a boon for your champion!”

Mrs Hull was walking up to each champion, and handing out a few small objects. She handed Holly a wand she immediately recognised as Ginny’s, a wrist holster for it, and a small stoppered vial full of pitch-black powder.

“What’s the powder?” Holly asked.

“Peruvian instant darkness powder. Works just as well underwater as above it,” Mrs Hull said, sounding for once interested and animated.

“Cool,” Holly said, then she went back to listening to Bagman.

“Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering if there’s going to be much to watch - after all, we can’t exactly see beneath the water! Never fear - Professor Dumbledore has very kindly helped us set up a number of omniocular pipes to allow me to keep track of all the action, and I’ll be narrating it for you. Champions, you may begin on my count down. Three... two... one... begin!” Bagman said, and Holly immediately went to work.

She quickly transfigured her socks into flippers, and then cast a verbal bubblehead charm. It seemed like Fleur and Cedric were thinking along the same lines, as both of them had cast the bubblehead charm, but Krum had chosen a different tactic - he’d done a partial self-transfiguration into a shark.

“And Potter’s displayed impressive mastery of the Bubblehead charm for her age, but what’s with the shoes? Some kind of muggle device?” Bagman said, but that was all Holly heard before she waddled into the water. Walking in the long flippers was awkward, but when she started to swim she knew she’d had the right idea.

Cedric and Fleur had both been faster than her to enter the water, but when Holly dived beneath the waves she sped past both of them. Of course, she was pretty fast in general.
Holly’s vision was fairly limited in the dark, murky water but she’d scouted out the general route to the Merpeople’s village before the task. She dived down eagre to get away from the other champions (as, after all, there were no rules against stopping another champion from reducing their hostage).

She swam just above the tangled forest of dark weeds, tiny silver fish swimming past her in every direction, and headed for the Merpeople’s village. She had her wand in her hand, ready for trouble - because surely the task wouldn’t be as simple as swimming to the village and back again.

Something grabbed at her leg, and Holly twisted around in the water. A grindylow - a sort of small, horned, water demon - was grasping at her ankle, and Holly could see several more of them swimming towards her. She slashed her wand at the creature, and it was blasted backwards by a jet of red light. Her stunning spell had taken care of one, but dozens were now swimming towards her.

She waved her wand in a circle around her and conjured a whip of superheated water. Bubbles flew away from it angrily, and she lashed the horde of water demons with it. They cried out in pain, bubbles escaping from their fanged maws, and swam away from her. Holly used their distraction to swim far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to follow her.

Holly could see the Merpople’s village now, the shapes of their stone buildings emerging from the murk. There were a half dozen elaborate stone buildings, Roman in their design, all constructed in a circle. At the centre was a large tower that seemed to glow softly from windows at its top floor. It was a huge construction, even bigger than the large buildings surrounding it.

There was one last patch of plants before it, and Holly planned to swim a little over it - she had no need to fight off Grindylows once more. She a flash of silver beneath the dark plants, and then another. Her eyes narrowed, and Holly thought about what Ginny had done. She concentrated and transformed only her eyes into that of a messenger raven’s.

Fleur was being mobbed by Grindylows, and she’d lost her grip on her wand. Her hands had turned to talons, and she’d cut a few of them severely - but the blood seeping into the water wasn’t purely the brackish blood of the water demons - some of it was the red of Fleur’s.

Holly knew that the most strategic thing to do was to leave Fleur and continue on, but the Beauxbatons champion looked like she was in real trouble. Holly turned and slashed her wand at the Grindylows. Jets of red light struck them, blasting them backwards and caving in more than a few chests. Against a creature so small, a stunning spell like Holly’s could deal serious physical damage.

Fleur looked up, and Holly swam closer. She whipped hot water and the remaining Gryndlows, and they turned to run. She summoned Fleur’s wand and then swam towards her. Holly touched the bubble from her bubblehead charm to Fleur’s and handed back her wand.
“Are you alright, Fleur?” Holly asked.

“Thanks to you... never have I been so scared - not even the dragon,” Fleur said, shaking her head. She sounded panicked, but her wounds were only minor.

“Do you need help with...” Holly began, but Fleur shook her head. She was already healing her wounds and fixing her swimming costume.

“Go on, Holly. I’ll give you a little head start,” Fluer said, smiling at her. Holly blushed, and she realised that she was very close to a very pretty girl. Deciding that retreat was the wisest option, she nodded and swam off towards the tower. She let her eyes fade back to their natural human green, and shook her head. She needed to keep her mind on the Task, not very pretty half-Vela girls winking at her.

“Halt, champion!” Holly heard a musical voice say, and she looked down to see a merman floating towards her. He looked nothing like the image muggles imagined - he had greyish, scaled skin and wild green hair. His eyes seemed to glow a soft yellow, and his mouth was full of sharp teeth the same colour. “Once you enter the tower, there can be no retreat. If you wish to forefit, do so now,” the Merman said.

“I - I understand,” Holly said. Her words couldn’t travel outside of her bubblehead charm, however, so she nodded as well. The merman swam aside, and Holly saw that there were dozens of them - all watching her approach the large stone tower in the centre of their village.

There was only one door, and it seemed to crumble to dust as Holly approached. She lit her wand and swam cautiously inside. The second she crossed the doorway, it began to reform - only now behind her, there was nothing but smooth dark stone. Her wand provided the only light as she swam down the stone corridor, which twisted and turned half a dozen ways the couldn’t have ever fit into the slim tower Holly had seen without magic.

Around the next bend, she came to another door. This one didn’t crumble to fust when she approached, and as she tried the handle she realised it was securely locked with no obvious mechanism. Her unlocking charm had no effect, and Holly was no magical lockpick - that had always been Hermione.

So Holly swam back and levelled her wand at the door. An explosive curse wouldn’t work underwater, and she didn’t want to set off a blast in such a confined space. She recalled Dumbledore’s lesson on magic and water and put all the power she could into moving the water. The door was blasted off its hinges by the sheer force of the water crashing against it, and Holly swam deeper into the tower.

Finally, she was in the core of the tower - and she could see light coming from up above. It seemed like there was a chamber that the water didn’t reach, and Holly began to swim upwards. Then the merpeople emerged from little tunnels in the side of the core, carrying huge weighted nets. Holly knew she didn’t want to fight them and risk hurting them, so she grabbed the vial of darkness powder and smashed it against the wall. It spread with alarming speed, and the merpeople gave off confused cries as Holly swum up through the darkness and left them behind.

She emerged onto a set of stone steps. She pulled herself out of the water, and into what looked like a pocket of air. A little cluster of runs, glowing a soft blue, blew fresh air towards her. The room itself was a wide, circular one. It was made from the same black stone as the tower, but there were a number of couches and armchairs scattered across it.

Sitting in them were three hostages. Ginny, who smiled broadly when she saw Holly, a young girl who looked very much like Fluer, and Hermione.

“Ginny! Hermione!” Holly called out, as she awkwardly walked over to them in her flippers. She dismissed her bubblehead charm and enjoyed the fresher air for a moment.

“Holly!” Ginny said, leaping up from her chair. She ran across the room towards Holly but jerkily stopped short. A manacle was attached to her left ankle, with a chain leading to the centre of the room. Holly walked the rest of the way and kissed her girlfriend.

“I was so worried when you weren’t at breakfast,” Holly said.

“We’ve been down here the whole time. The merpeople even served us breakfast,” Ginny said.

“How was it?” Holly asked, suddenly curious.

“Wet,” Ginny said, and Holly laughed.

“Do you have a key for that, or?” Holly asked.

“Nope. I figure that’s part of the challenge,” Ginny said.

“Did you see Viktor, Holly?” Hermione asked.

“Don’t panic if a half-shark guy comes in here, that’s him,” Holly said as she examined the lock on the manacle. Thinking that ti was probably charmed to resist an unlocking charm, she got the knife Sirius had given her for Christmas out. She pressed the blade into the lock on the manacle, and it almost seemed to flow into the lock. With only a little effort, the lock clicked open.

“I guess Sirius did know what he was doing when he got you that for Christmas,” Ginny said.

“Here’s your wand, by the way,” Holly said and handed hers to Ginny.

“Cho didn’t get her wand,” Ginny said, sounding pleased.

“I think that was your boon,” Holly said. Ginny had won the third year duelling competition, granting Holly a boon in the second task - and if Ginny getting her wand was the boon, then it wasn’t over.

There was another spiral staircase leading up into what looked like a pool of water, only upside down. Holly could see dim shapes moving beyond - more Merpeople with their nets, she thought.

“Ginny, get your shield charm ready and hold on when we go up, okay?” Holly asked. She cast the bubblehead charm again, once on her and once on Ginny.

“Al- alright?” Ginny said, and they ascended the spiral staircase slowly. Holly found climbing it in her flippers difficult.

“Ready?” Holly asked, holding out her hand to Ginny. She took it, and held on tightly. They climbed into the lake, and Ginny cast her shield charm not a moment too soon - the nets were sent bouncing off, giving Holly enough time to complete her spell. She spoke a few words Dumbledore had taught her, and then she thrust her wand upwards. Water rushed around her, and as she held onto Ginny’s hand for dear life they rocketed upwards at great speed.

Holly thought she saw a tentacle swipe at them, but they were going far too fast to be hit by it. In less than a minute, they were found out of the water and into the freezing cold air of the lake. They both splashed down back into the water, and Holly cancelled the bubblehead charms as she and Ginny headed towards the shore.

“And with that spectacular ascent, Miss Potter is our second champion to arrive - only a minute behind Mr Diggory! A strong day for Hogwarts, a strong day indeed...” Bagman said, and the crowd roared.

Chapter 63: Year Four, Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Text

Holly quickly made her way back to the Champion’s tent, drying herself off in one of the little cubicles and getting changed back into her uniform. Madam Pomfrey checked over both Holly and Ginny, before declaring them to not have been too harmed by the Task. Then Holly was practically dragged out of the tent by her friends. Ron, the Twins, Luna, and more were waiting for her outside the tent.

“I can’t believe you finished second, Holly. You might really have a chance to win this thing,” Ron said.

“Might have a chance? She’s a lock! Odds on her have dropped from fifty to one to two to one - she’s the current favourite!” George said.

“It’s so romantic...” Lavender said as the whole group walked back up to the stands.

“Lucky Hermione!” Parvati replied, and Holly rolled her eyes. She was so glad to have succeeded, though, that she let the moment of annoyance pass. She had a great time sitting in the stands, eating pumpkin pasties and every-flavour beans whilst Bagman narrated the events below.

Holly was startled to find out that he actually was a very good commentator - she could follow what was going on just by his descriptions. She cheered when Fluer conjured a half-dozen squids to cover her escape from the tower and groaned when Krum was hit with a net. Ginny sat next to her the whole time, letting Holly rest her head on her shoulder.

Eventually, both Fleur and Krum made it out of the water, Fleur arriving before Krum, and Holly looked on eagerly as all the judges conferred. She’d imagined it was just a matter of who got out with their hostage the quickest, but the judges seemed to be talking about something quite involved. She heard Karkaroff and Maxime shout a little, too.

The dust seemed to settle, and the other judges let Bagman go back to his platform. He seemed quite happy with whatever had been decided, Holly though.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the Judges have reached a decision! Thanks to the network of onmioculars placed across the lake, we have been able to observe the events of the task in exquisite detail. Marks have been awarded to our gallant champions out of fifty...” Bagman announced, pausing to build up the suspense.

“In fourth place, Viktor Krum. Whilst he displayed impressive mastery of self-transfiguration, he was the last to return. As such, we award him thirty-five points,” Bagman said, and Holly winced as she realised that Karkaroff must have awarded another ten to Krum. There was polite clapping from the audience, and booing from the Slytherins at the low score.

“In third place, Fleur Delacour. She displayed her mastery of the bubblehead charm, and of conjuration. She did, however, have to be rescued from the Grindylows by a fellow champion. We award her thirty-six points,” Bagman said, and Holly thought she saw Karkaroff’s face contort in rage.

“In second place, Holly Potter. Not only did she perform the bubblehead charm far more successfully than could be expected for a witch of her age, but she also showed great mastery of the water manipulation charm. Furthermore, some of us believe that her gallantry in rescuing Miss Delacour was worthy of an increased point award. Accordingly, we have awarded her forty-five points,” bagman said, and the entire Hogwarts crowd went wild. The Gryffindors especially seemed to leap to their feet and cheer. Holly was surrounded by noise, and she nearly missed hearing Bagman announce Cedric’s score.

“And in first place, we have Cedric Diggory. He showcased his strong charms skills with the Bubblehead and fascination charms, allowing him to proceed through the lake unhindered. Moreover, his disillusionment charm allowed him to retrieve his hostage without incident. In light of that, we have awarded him full marks - fifty points!” Bagman said, and Hufflepuff rose to their feet as one to emit a wall of sound even louder than the Gryffindors had for Holly. They cheered and whistles, and someone let off yellow and black fireworks in great numbers.

“Please give our champions one last round of applause, and be ready for the Third Task. It’ll take place on the twenty-fourth of June - Champions, you’ll be informed about it a month beforehand!” Bagman said, and then he left his commentary platform.

“Holly... you do realise what this means, don’t you?” Hermione asked her.

“What?” Holly asked, then she started to do the numbers. Cedric had gotten thirty-five points in the last task, which meant that she and Cedric were actually tied for first.

“You’re tied with Cedric for first! I can’t believe you’re doing this well,” Hermione said.

“Not supporting Krum, then?” Ron asked.

“Oh shut it, Ronald. I’d be happy if Viktor won, but I’d also like Holly to win it,” Hermione said, blushing a little.

“It’s okay, Hermione. You’ve been a great help so far - all of you have been,” Holly said, and she meant it. She didn’t know what she’d have done if she’d been as alone a she had been at the end of her Second Year. She ignored the whispers telling her that she was never really alone, and went up to the tower to celebrate with her friends.

Holly’s good mood was rudely interrupted by the next day’s copy of the Daily Prophet, which was once again occupied by a large glossy photograph of the task. It seemed a little fuzzy, and Holly thought it might have been taken of an omninocular’s lens. The picture itself was of Holly burst into the chamber with the hostages, and kissing Ginny.

Holly Potter wins Hearts and Tasks

Dear Readers, this intrepid reporter has had the privilege to view much of the second task in the Triwizard tournament, and it was spectacular. Our champion rescued the pretty but unskilled Beauxbatons champion, Fler Delacore, and managed to tie for first place with incredible feats of magic. Some are whispering that Dumbledore himself has been teaching her - and if he is, this reporter would like to thank him on behalf of magical Britain!

As you’ll be able to read about in the sports section, the Second Task involved rescuing a hostage. As was reported in Witch Weekly, Holly Potter took a girl to the ball - Virginia Weasley, the same girl she rescued from a dark spirit and a Basilisk two years ago. Whilst at the time it was reported that they were merely friends, this was an understatement of their relationship. When the Girl Who Lived rescued Virginia, she gave her a rather more-than-friendly kiss!

Has word of this relationship, so untraditional, reached Miss Weasley’s parents? This reporter reached out for comment, but my letters have gone unanswered. Of course, one expects girls at Hogwarts to become close - but will this relationship stand the test of time, or will Miss Potter move on to a more adult romance with a boy in a year or two?

Of course, she did try to ask Cedric Diggory to the ball and was rejected - could romance bloom between the two champions, now tied for first place? Read more in this week’s Witch Weekly!

Holly crumpled up the paper and threw it away, her face red. She could see the Slytherins pointing at her and Ginny and laughing, and she felt awful that she was exposing her girlfriend to this.

“I’m sorry about this,” Holly said to her as they left the breakfast table. Ginny had defence, which was on the way to Holly’s transfiguration lesson.

“It’s not your fault, Holly. I knew what I was getting into when I said yes to going with you. And ignore all that rubbish about my parents, yeah? Mum was over the moon when I told her about going with you - though I think she was holding out for you and Ron...” Ginny said. Holly spat out her pumpkin juice, and so did Ron.

“What? Me and Ron? That’d just be - no,” Holly said.

“Yeah, I think Mum went a little off there. No offence, Holly,” Ron said, but Holly thought his cheeks were a little red.

“Did you really ask Cedric?” Hermione asked, frowning.

“Yeah, but it was pretty awful. He was very nice about turning me down, but...” Holly said, feeling awkward. She didn’t want to talk about her abortive crush on Cedric in front of her girlfriend.
“I’m not going to be offended, Holly. He’s a right handsome bloke, that Cedric,” Ginny said, laughing.

“Well, how did she find out? I can’t imagine Cedric told her,” Hermione said.

“That is a little suspicious,” Holly said, but by then they were nearly at their classes, so she let it drop.

Plenty of people used Skeeter’s article to mock Holly or Ginny, mostly Slytherins. Their leader in it seemed to be Pansy Parkinson, who even changed her ‘Potter Sucks’ badges to say other things when teachers weren’t looking. Holly was surprised when Malfoy only half-heartedly took part, and she thought he looked rather tired. He had huge dark circles under his eyes, and he seemed to look more and more depressed when he read his letters from home.

Thomas Avery was also keeping away from her, fearful of Moody. The retired Auror’s defence lessons had only gotten more intense as the year went on, and Holly was consistently his best student. While the rest of her class were struggling to perform even a basic verbal shield charm, Holly had her silent shield charm down.

Moody often asked her to help demonstrate a spell or technique, and Holly found herself enjoying the lessons even when they focused on something she already knew. Helping her classmates learn even basic spells taught her a lot about them, too.

Holly had quite the weekend on a day in March, competing in the Fifth Year Duelling Competition and playing Ravenclaw right afterwards. Angelina Johnson looked rather nervous, but she promised that even if she was knocked out, at least Ginny would still be able to play on her firebolt.

She had already improved her skills quite a bit from where they had been after the Fourth Year competition, and Holly found the Fifth year Competetion no harder than the Fourth Year one - easier, even. None of the foreign students were as good as Emeline, and she quickly and efficiently worked her way through a parade of O.W.L. students to emerge the winner of the fifth year competition. Cho Chang, who Holly thought might be quite good at it, didn’t compete.

Ginny did have to take her place against Ravenclaw (Holly was rather worn out by all the duelling), but she managed a quick victory thanks to matching Cho in skill and having a much better broom. Holly cheered especially loudly from the stands as her girlfriend caught the snitch in barely fifteen minutes.

Near the end of March, Dumbledore summoned Holly for another lesson. She arrived and saw that Dumbledore had put his Pensieve on his desk, and had an armchair conjured for her in front of it.

“Hello, Professor. What are we doing tonight?” Holly asked.

“It’s good to see you, Holly. Tonight, we shall be examining a memory - firstly one of mine, but perhaps others if we have the time. I am still putting this collection together, but as you have advanced in your Occlumency far enough to defend your mind against any subtle attack, I thought it prudent to share these with you,” Dumbledore said.

“What are the memories about, professor?” Holly asked. They had to be secret, for Dumbledore to mention her Occlumency, but she was at a loss as to what they could be. Secrets from the first war with Voldemort or some grand feat of magic Dumbledore had witnessed?

“They are about a young man - one you are unfortunately familiar with. It is my hope that, by examining his past, we may find the information useful to us now. I speak, of course, about Tom Riddle. Are you ready, Holly?” Dumbledore asked and Holly nodded. They both lent forwards, and Holly felt herself falling into the memory.

Chapter 64: Year Four, Chapter Thirty

Chapter Text

Holly staggered backwards, her mind racing. Tom Riddle had been frightening even as a young child, and Holly knew now what Dumbledore must have seen when he first saw her - their resemblance was uncanny. Oh, there were slight differences, but when she came to Hogwarts they could easily have been mistaken for brothers.

“That was my first meeting with Tom Riddle. I did not, perhaps, handle it as well as I would now have liked to. I thought him troubled, perhaps, but not possessed of the kind of malice I am now sure he was born with,” Dumbledore said.

“Born with, sir? You think he was what, born evil?” Holly asked. The idea gnawed at her, as she remembered Quirrel screaming as she pressed her hands into his face.

“Evil? No. I think Tom Riddle was born with a sickness of the mind - a total lack of empathy. He might very well have prospered under careful, deliberate care... but he grew up in destitution and abuse. Of course, there are many who grow up in such dark places who do not delight in the suffering of others. So we may call Riddle evil today, but I do not think that fate was inevitable,” Dumbledore said, and Holly could hear the pain in his words. It struck her then how old he was, the weary lines in his face and then the wispiness of his white hair.

“What was all that about his mum and dad? He told me - well the memory of him, at least, told me that it was his dad who was a muggle,” Holly said.

“Indeed, Tom Riddle Senior was an affluent muggle who lived in the village of Little Hangleton. Merope Gaunt, Tom’s mother, also lived there. She was a pureblooded witch, although chronic in-breeding and deprivation had weakened her powers considerably. She retained enough power to control the handsome Tom Riddle, however,” Dumbledore said.

“Control?” Holly asked.

“I am unsure what method she used exactly, but I suspect a mixture of the imperius curse and a strong love potion,” Dumbledore said, and Holly’s eyes widened.

“She forced him to... Merlin, that’s sick,” Holly said.

“That was how such things were done, in Merope’s experience. It is not an excuse for such behaviour, but she grew up in a much darker place than Wool’s Orphanage. But the sad story of the Gaunt’s requires memories I do not yet have possession of, so we will leave it there for tonight,” Dumbledore said.

“Am I allowed to...” Holly began, and Dumbledore nodded.

“This, you may talk to your friends about. The other memories are of a more secret nature, but Tom is well aware that I remember our first meeting,” Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye.

Holly left his office after that, unsure what to think. She had known that Voldemort had to have been a child once, and yet she had been utterly unprepared to see him as she had. To see the cold cruelty in a child’s eyes, and to hear of the tortures he had inflicted upon the other orphans.

Wouldn’t you have liked to make Dudley afraid, the whispers asked her. Made him flinch from you, instead of Harry hunting? Made him flinch sooner?

Holly ignored them, taking flight as a raven across the grounds. They were always quieter when she was in her Animagus form, and she took great joy in flying across the grounds as the last slivers of twilight turned them into a breathtaking mass of long shadows and orange light. She swooped low, flying through the trees and just barely above the grass, then let the wind lift her into the sky.

She saw the castle, saw how immense it was. It felt so empty, often. Cold halls and disused classrooms as real a reminder of Voldemort’s war as Holly’s scar. Wizards did not have the terrible tools of modern, industrial war that muggles had - and Holly knew that deep down many wizards feared them - but their battles were just as bloody. They merely fought them in hidden homes and secret places instead of muddy battlefields.

Being a raven, she thought, was no safety from melancholy. She flew back towards Gryffindor tower and found a safe place to transform. Then she joined her friends by the fire and was glad of the warmth it offered.

“Everything alright?” Ginny asked her, quietly.

“Not really,” Holly said, leaning against Ginny’s shoulder. Her girlfriend was ever so slightly taller than her, now. “Dumbledore showed me when he first met... Tom,” Holly continued, trusting Ginny to get what she was talking about.

“What was he like as a kid?” Ginny asked.

“Not all that different from the memory in the diary. I’m not sure what I expected... but something about seeing that look in a little ten year old’s eyes...” Holly said, trailing off.

She sat there, leaning against Ginny and looking into the flickering flames, for quite some time. Ron and Hermione had an argument, Ginny played with Holly’s hair, and the Twins let off a firework at one point. Holly just sat there, feeling drained but not wanting to go to bed. She knew what was waiting for her when she went to sleep.

Holly slipped out of the common room after everyone else had gone to bed and the fire had died down. Her cloak on, she walked through the empty stone corridors of the castle without making so much as a single sound. After years of sneaking around Hogwarts, and a life avoiding the Dursleys, Holly was very quiet on her feet.

The sound of someone crying broke the silence of the night, and Holly drew her wand. She moved closer, cautious and worried. A classroom door had been left ajar, and she crept through it.

To her surprise, the person crying was none other than Draco Malfoy. His eyes were red and puffy, and he looked just as tired and worn out as he had ever since Christmas. Pansy Parkinson was sitting next to him, a hand on his back, and Holly was shocked to see what must have been a look of genuine concern on Parkinson’s face. She hadn’t thought the pug-nosed girl capable of it.

“I - I can’t go back there, Pansy,” Draco said, looking very small suddenly.

“It can’t be that bad, Draco - I know your father’s been a bit harder this year, but your mum-” Pansy said, but Draco interrupted her.

“It’s her too! Something about them’s changed, Pansy... They keep talking about transferring me to Durmstrang, or even to one of the American schools. They’re afraid,” Draco said.

“Afraid of what? It’s not like our families have anything to fear from the Dark Lord,” Pansy said.

“I don’t know. They keep talking to that house-elf, whispering when they think I can’t hear them...” Draco said. Holly was being very, very quiet as she listened in on Draco and Pansy’s conversation.

“It’s probably just boring stuff, Draco. Or maybe they’ve been contacted. Either way, there’s not much you can really do about it, is there?”

“I’ve been thinking about running away. I have enough money at hand that I could get out of Europe before they noticed...” Draco said, and Holly’s eyes went wide. What on Earth could frighten Malfoy that badly?

“Don’t be stupid, Draco. Your parents would find you in a week or two... better to just tough it out until Seventh Year, and then you can get out of that manor. We could get somewhere nice, just the two of us...” Pansy said, and then she kissed him rather passionately. Holly took that as her cue to leave.

Holly found most of the Sixth Years to be no greater challenge than the Fifth years as duellists that weekend. Some of them could do nonverbal spells, but she could cast faster, stronger, and more accurate spells than them. She sent one flying off the platform and bound another in conjured ropes merely by clicking her fingers together.

Then, as seemed inevitable, she faced Cedric in the final duel for the Sixth Year Competition. A hush came over the stands as he and Holly took their positions on the duelling platform, ten paces apart from one another.
“I think this is almost as scary as facing you on the Quidditch pitch,” Cedric said, jovially.

“Well, at least it’ll be over quicker one way or another,” Holly replied. She’d duelled Cedric once before, when he had assisted Remus in his end of year exam in Holly’s third year at Hogwarts. She knew he was very good - probably better than her at the time, but she had gotten much better since then. He’d probably been training hard too however because the champions were almost always directly pitted against one another in the final task.

She’d need an edge to beat him, and she thought she had one. She had checked the formal rules, and it was technically not against them so long as she didn’t start before Flitwick announced the start of the duel. Cedric, she knew from a very careful probe yesterday, had no obvious knowledge of Occlumency.

“And we have two champions facing off for the first time! Holly Potter, who’s fought her way up from the Fourth Year Competition to compete for the Sixth year title, faces Cedric Diggory. This should be a hell of a duel, folks - can Diggory face down the Girl Who Lived? They’re currently tied for first place in the Tournament, so the boons from these last few competitions should be crucial,” Lee Jordan said from his commentary box - Slytherin and one of the Durmstrang teams were due to play Quidditch after the Duelling Competition.

“Three, two, one... start!” Flitwick said, and then both Holly and Cedric lept into action. He tried for a fast disarming charm, but Holly had a nonverbal shield up in time. She’d angled her wand just so that Cedric’s disarming charm was reflected back towards him, and he had to waste precious seconds shielding himself. She had no intention of going on the offensive until she had her advantage in place. Using the brief moment her shield charm had given her, Holly reached out. Not with her arms, but with her mind until she felt the very edge of Cedric’s.

She touched only the very surface thoughts in his head, the stuff of momentary instinct. When he cast his stunning spell next, she knew before he did - consciously, at least - that he would follow it up with a blasting hex.

Holly was able to nimbly step aside from almost all of Cedric’s spells, not needing to take the time to shield herself unless she absolutely couldn’t dodge. She could start moving before Cedric even knew what spell he’d be casting next at anything beyond an instinctual level - it was much like what she’d been able to do by reading Emmeline’s pre-practised spell patterns, but with every spell Cedric cast.

Without having to shield herself, Holly went on a barrage of offensive spells. She sent stunning spells, disarming charms, blasting hexes, and body-bind curses flying towards Cedric as fast she could cast. He could defend himself against them, but her spell had such power behind them - even the simple duelling spells like her stunning and disarming spells - that his shield charms began to crack ominously.

Then her blasting hex shattered Cedric’ shield charm entirely with a sound like a sledgehammer going through glass, and it sent him flying backwards. Holly’s follow-up disarming charm seemed almost insult to injury, but she had cast it before she’d seen the impact of her blasting hex. She drew her mind back into her own head and helped Cedric up.

“Someday you’ll need to tell me how you got that good, Holly,” Cedric said as the Gryffindors in the crowd cheered. Holly saw her friends waving banners from the red-and-gold section of the stands.

“Someday. Tell you what, if you still haven’t worked it out after the Tournament is over, I’ll teach you,” Holly said, smiling.

“It’s a deal,” Cedric said, and he waved to the crowd to show he wasn’t hurt.

Chapter 65: Year Four, Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Text

“That was amazing, Holly. How did you do it - I’ve never seen someone just dodge every spell like that!” Ron said as they walked back to the castle.

“It was almost like you could see what Cedric was going to cast before he cast it. I’ve heard some Seers can do that, you know,” Ginny said, her eyes wide.

“Or before he thought it,” Hermione said, and from the way she looked at her, Holly knew Hermione at least had worked out how Holly had done it.

“Hermione’s got it right. I used Legilimency on Cedric,” Holly said.

“What, you read his mind? That’s a little off, mate,” Ron said.

“I didn’t go looking for his secrets or anything. There’s a thing you can do where you just read instinct without touching conscious thought. Let’s you know what spell they’re going to cast before they do,” Holly explained.

“Wicked. I can see why Dumbledore taught you all this mind stuff, then,” Ginny said.

“Is that allowed under the rules?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah... so long as I start after Flitwick’s called start,” Holly said.

“Maybe I need to learn that Occlumency stuff...” Ron muttered, and Holly frowned as she felt the breeze blow across the grounds. Not as cold as it had been, she thought.

Holly’s classes were getting harder and harder as the school year hurtled towards the end, but she could only pay so much attention to them - she was by now incredibly busy with training for the tournament. She still managed to get Quidditch practice in, but only just. It was a good thing Fleur and Krum, who were in their final year of schooling, didn’t need to sit their exams Holly thought.

She knew she couldn’t have passed a NEWT this year, let alone all of the ones she wanted to take. It was only with the help of her friends that she was able to, just barely, maintain her grades in her fourth-year classes.

It was a great relief when she played Gryffindor’s final Quidditch match of the season. Crushing Slytherin in front of the entire school was just as satisfying as she remembered it being, although she didn’t think Draco had really been trying all that hard. His flying had been off for the whole match, and he seemed to be even more tired than her, judging by his reaction speed.

Holly had wondered why the Quidditch season had ended before the duelling competition, but as she saw the large banners shroud the pitch from view she realised that it was needed for something else. That was almost certainly the Third Task, which probably made sense - why build another stadium if you already had one, after all. She was half tempted to go take a look under her cloak, but if she’d have a month’s warning anyway, cheating seemed like bad form.

All the teachers were helping her and Cedric, now. Of course, they weren’t officially helping the two Hogwarts champions, but all the extra duelling practice Flitwick and Moody gave Holly (and she was sure Cedric as well) weren’t on the standard curriculum. Neither was the very specific selection of “interesting critters” Hagrid showed Holly, explaining how to get past or disable them.

One night, she was sitting by the fire in the common room as it got low, most of her housemates long since having gone to bed. She took out her mirror and whispered Sirius’s name into it.

“What’re you doing up at this time?” he asked, slurring his words just slightly. Holly smiled ruefully - she’d swear she could smell the alcohol on his breath over the mirror.

“I see you’ve been having fun,” Holly said.

“I’m an adult. We’re allowed to go get drunk once in a while,” Sirius said, sticking out his tongue at her. “Seriously though, are you alright? Your letters have been...” he continued.

“I’m - I’m not great, but I’ll last until the Tournament is over. I’m just tired, that’s all. At least this whole ‘plot to kill me via the Tournament thing didn’t work out for whoever was behind it,” Holly said.

“Don’t let your guard down, Holly. Whoever tampered with the Goblet still has access to the school, and if they don’t succeed with the Third Task...” Sirius said.

“I know, I know. Really, I’ve been keeping an eye on all the suspects we had with the map, but none of them ever seem to do anything suspicious. Madame Dupont just teaches the Beauxbatons students and all Karkaroff does is hang around with Snape,” Holly said.

“Hanging around with Snape is suspicious. Two former Death Eaters-”

“I’ve listened in on them a few times, Karkaroff is just trying to poach Snape for Durmstrang. Merlin knows why he’d want him,” Holly said, interrupting Sirius.

“As greasy and annoying as Snape is, he does know a thing or two about potions. He’d fit in with all the pureblood supremacists over there too,” Sirius said.

They talked for a little while longer, and Holly felt a little better. Her problems weren’t all magically gone, but having someone like Sirius to talk to helped. She dreamed of the Chamber again that night, and of the terrible fire at the World Cup.

In the last week of May, Holly was told to head down to the Quidditch Pitch - the Third Task would, finally, be revealed to the champions. She found herself standing outside the Pitch, still covered by a large floating cloth drape, with the other champions. Night had already fallen, and whilst it was no longer the depth of winter, her breath still frosted in the cold climate of Hogwarts.

“Judging by the size of that cover, whatever arena they’re building in there must be bloody large,” Cedric said.

“I wonder where Mr Bagman is? He has always been so eager to show off his constructions before,” Fleur said.

As she spoke, a number of figures emerged from around a bend in the Pitch. Bagman was there, but also a number of teachers - Moody, Karkaroff, and Madame Dupont.

“Ah, all here? Excellent, Excellent - well, if you’d join your teachers and follow me?” bagman said, and all the champions followed him into the stands. They climbed the steps in relative silence until they emerged into the teacher’s box. Without waiting for anyone to speak, Bagman waved his wand and all at once the huge cloth drapes flew away from the pitch.

The normal oval of bright green grass had been completely transformed. In its place was a huge construction that seemed to be mostly made from hedgerows and overgrown stone. It was like a maze, but there were multiple levels, each smaller in area than the previous one. Odd structures were sticking out of the hedges, and there at the top was a large open rotunda. It had huge roman columns, and at its centre was a marble plinth that seemed to be at exactly the eye level of the general seating.

“Feast your eyes on one of the most difficult tasks ever designed for this tournament, a maze of such devilish construction - can you believe old Barty wanted only one level. Said there wasn’t a budget for anything more - well, we’ve had some very helpful private donations and can give you the full experience. Monsters, traps, the maze... all of them will be as fiendish as we could make them. Well, any questions?” Bagman said.

“I assume we have to get to the top?” Holly asked.

“Quite right you are, my dear. That’s why I asked for a representative from each school to come as well, you know. I assume the three of you can handle getting the actual cup to that top plinth there on the day? Good, good,” bagman said.

“I am sure it will be no trouble at all, Monsieur Bagman,” Madame Dupont said with a smile. She was much younger than the other two teachers here, being perhaps thirty, and strikingly handsome. Holly tried not to think about how good-looking the Beauxbatons defence professor was.

“Hmph. I doubt there is much you two could do to cheat with it, so I shall leave it to you. Viktor, with me,” Karkaroff said. Krum followed him, and Holly thought he looked rather uncomfortable.

As everyone walked back to the castle, Holly lagged a little behind Cedric and Moody. She was surprised when she saw Madame Dupont approach her, but she smiled as the French professor walked alongside her.

“I wanted to tell you how impressive I found your duelling, Mademoiselle Potter. Not many at your age could claim such mastery of the mind arts,” Dupont said, smiling back at Holly.

“Oh, uh, you noticed that. Thank you, um, Madame Dupont?” Holly said, blushing a little.

“I did. Holly - may I call you Holly? - I would like to ask you to think about your future employment. I myself am only a teacher at Beauxbaotns part-time, you know. My real job - and certainly the one which makes me almost all my gold - is as a troubleshooter for hire, of sorts. I have a few colleagues, but such a talented witch as yourself would be more than welcome amongst us,” Dupont said, and Holly blinked. She really hadn’t been expecting a job offer.

“I’ll, I’ll keep that in mind, thanks,” Holly said.

“I’m sure you will. The Band can offer gold the likes of which you’ll never see in this dreary little country - and I’m sure you’ll appreciate the, ah, allure being a member of such an organisation can have. If you have no other plans this summer, perhaps you would like to come and.... what was the word? Intern with us, I think is the phrase?” Dupont said, and Holly blinked.

“I - yeah, I’ll think about it,” Holly said, and then she managed to extract herself from the very odd conversation. She’d never heard of this “Band” Dupont was trying to recruit her for, but they sounded a little shady to Holly. The idea did appeal to her, though - travelling to exotic locations and getting into adventures for a great load of gold sounded better than some boring ministry job to her.

As she returned to the Common Room, her friends rushed towards her.

“What is it then, the task?” Ron asked.

“They’ve built some insane multi-story maze out on the Quidditch Pitch. Bagman said there’d be monsters and stuff, and I think the other champions will be in there at the same time,” Holly said.

“Sounds wicked. At least we won’t have to watch it by listening to Bagman again,” Ginny said.

“Honestly, his narration wasn’t that bad. I think there are some spells that might help with the maze portion, Holly. And of course, we can help you practice duelling and dealing with magical traps,” Hermione said.
“That’d be great, Hermione. Although there is something else...” Holly said, unsure how to phrase it.

“What, like a secret fourth task or something?” Ron asked.

“No, nothing like that. Madame Dupont - you know, one of the defence teachers from Beauxbatons who’s here to teach the students at Hogwarts? She offered me a job,” Holly said.

“What, she wants you to go teach at Beauxbatons?” Ginny asked.

“No, apparently she works for something called the Band -”

“Ohh, I’ve heard of them. They sound really powerful from what I’ve read, but also like they didn’t much care for what they were doing beyond that they got paid,” Hermione said.

“They did sound a little shady, the way she described them,” Holly said.

“She must have been really impressed by you this year to offer it, though. There are less than ten known members, and they’re all supposed to be really powerful witches and wizards,” Hermione said.

“Anyway, let’s get back to the Tournament, yeah,?” Ginny said, and Holly was a little surprised to hear her girlfriend so irritated.

“Yeah - so here’s how I think the monsters will work...” Holly began, as she and her friends sat down for the first of many long planning sessions. They had a month to get Holly ready for the Third Task, and she was determined to win it.

Chapter 66: Year Four, Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Text

“And what will I be learning tonight, Professor?” Holly asked Dumbledore. He had once more asked her to his office for a practical lesson, and as usual, Holly had no idea what it would be about.

“Oh, a bit of this and that,” Dumbledore said, smiling a little as he held out an arm. She took it, and then Holly felt the unpleasant squeezing sensation of apparition. It felt like she was the last bit of toothpaste in the tube, being squeezed out by a particularly frugal person.

The sensation only lasted for the briefest of moments, however, and then she emerged onto a dark hilltop. It was covered in jagged stones, and Holly could hear waves lapping against rock somewhere nearby - they must be near the coast, and judging by the temperature they had gone all the way to England.

“Where are we, Professor?” Holly asked. She could see some distant lights - a small town or a large village, perhaps - but there didn’t seem to be much of interest on this rocky hill or nearby.

“Oh, just a place I remembered from a misspent youth. An irresponsible young wizard once tested out a powerful curse here and rather completely killed off much of the plant life. So, with nothing that might upset anyone if it was destroyed for quite a distance, we may practice magic here without concern,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

“Didn’t you pop out of the ground fully formed with a white beard?” Holly asked. She smelt something on the air, a faint scent of burnt ozone that seemed to permeate everything - the air, the rocks, the dry, crumbly soil.

“On the contrary, I was rather handsomely red-headed for many years. Tonight, Holly, we shall be learning about the air and the earth - about the magic inherent in the world, and how to use it to one’s own advantage,” Dumbledore said, withdrawing his long, odd-looking wand. Holly had never seen an Olivander wand quite like it, and she often found herself drawn to it - something about it seemed almost familiar to her.

“Like how? I thought you needed big runestones and arithmetic calculations and all that to tap a leyline?” Holly asked.

“One needs such precise and stabilising elements to set up the portkey network or anchor powerful wards. But if you merely wish to access that wild and uncontrolled power, then all you need is your wand - or some other suitable focus... such as an Animagus potion,” Dumbledore said, and Holy looked away for a moment.

“Oh, cool. Wouldn’t know about using one of those, but cool,” Holly said, awkwardly.

“Of course. But the danger of an Animagus transformation is in the wild nature of the natural magic used to induce such a permanent change to one’s own magic. So it is with all manipulation of leylines and natural magic,” Dumbledore explained.
Dumbledore taught Holly a number of spells - curses to call down lightning from the sky, spells to cause the earth to rupture and shake, charms to find ways through wards with gusts of wind, and techniques to understand the flow of magic. It was, much like the Animagus transformation, very different from the sort of magic Holly had learnt in her classes at Hogwarts.

Whereas the standard wand-based magic she was familiar with used power channelled through the witch and then the wand, this sort of magic manipulated power that was already there. She could draw down bolts of lightning from the sky because there was magic in the air that wanted to be unleashed as wind or rain or lighting, she could examine wards and traps with gusts of magical wind because it already carried power with it.

“If this sort of magic is so powerful, why do wizards use wands and their own magic?” Holly asked.

“Wands were invented by the Romans - as you’ve heard from Professor Binns several times, no doubt - but the powerful modern wands we use today are much more recent. Roman wands lacked the strengthening runes modern wands have, and so they had in almost every case much weaker cores than any wand you’d find for sale in Olivander’s. The synthesis of Norse runes, magical woodworking, and potion making required to create a wand as powerful as yours only predates the Staute of Secrecy by fifty years or so,” Dumbledore explained, and Holly blinked.

“Really? So people used, um, ambient magic a lot more before that?” Holly asked.

“They did. Indeed, it is thought the earliest witches and wizards used this type of magic essentially exclusively. The unfiltered manipulation of natural magic is what most are referring to with whispers of powerful ancient magic. As powerful as it is, though, it is severely limited. It requires sufficient natural magic in the palace you wish to cast in, carries much greater risk than wanded magic, and is usually not nearly as rapid as wanded magic. It can, however, come in useful from time to time,” Dumbledore said.

Holly was very glad to be exempt from end-of-year exams, because whilst her classmates were spending the last few weeks before the exams feverishly studying, she was able to prepare for the Third Task and get enough sleep. She wasn’t skipping class or anything, but the homework had gradually fallen away and been replaced with revision.

Her friends could only help her sporadically as the exam season got closer and closer, but Holly had learnt well how to study magic on her own if she really needed to. She wasn’t as fanatical as she’d been in her second year, but the situation wasn’t nearly as serious - as full of traps, monsters and other champions as the maze was sure to be, it’d be nothing next to confronting the Heir of Slytherin and his Basilisk

“I can’t believe we have to do crystal ball reading again this year,” Ron said, one evening in the common room.

“Well, that’s what happens when you stick with Divination,” Hermione said.

“Don’t knock it, Hermione. Just because it’s the one subject you’re rubbish at,” Ron said.

“I didn’t have an... inner eye, or whatever. What’s your excuse for your predictions not coming true?”

“Plenty of my predictions come true,” Ron said, although he looked a little uncomfortable.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Ginny said, butting into the argument.

“My palm -” Ron began, but then he coughed violently, almost like he was choking. His eyes rolled back, and Holly rushed over to try and help him. Then his eyes returned with a fierce intensity, and he spoke in a low voice.

“At the end, to the left,” Ron said, and it sounded as if there were a dozen Rons, all speaking in harmony. Then he seemed to deflate, almost, and Ron coughed again.

“What the fuck was that?” Holly said, and Hermione was so shocked she didn’t even think to critique Holly’s language.

“What do you mean? I must have swallowed something badly, it was just a little cough...” Ron said, looking very confused.

“I - I think that was a real prophecy,” Holly said, her eyes wide.

“But what could it mean? ‘At the end, to the left'?” Hermione asked.

“Maybe it’s about the maze?” Ginny asked.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ron said.

In the end, nobody knew quite what to make of Ron’s prophecy, if he had actually made one. Holly told Dumbledore about it, but he had no more insight into it than she or Hermione had been able to find.

Holly flew over the maze in her raven form at night several times, and there was no left turn to the top level - there were simply a pair of marble staircases leading up to it. The multi-layered construction meant she couldn’t memories much of the route, but she did get a good look at several of the traps being installed.

Her friends were all progressing well with their own transformations - all of them had managed to get the full transformation down, and Ginny sometimes joined Holly on her nighttime flights. Holly had also learnt how to transform only her eyes, allowing her to see as well as she could in her raven form without fully transforming. They were rather disturbing to look at, though at least they were the right size.

The weekend before the Third Task, the final Duelling Competition was held in the Great Hall. Holly felt like she had wandered into the wrong class as she joined the other competitors in the little section. Everyone else there towered over her, and plenty of the boys had facial hair and moustaches. Some of them were even not laughably patchy.

They all looked at Holly with a surprising amount of respect - nobody here seemed inclined to dismiss her based on her age. Perhaps it was her fame, or that they knew just how good she’d have to be to make it here from the Fourth Year Competition. Many of the people she’d face today had jobs lined up as Aurors or Hitwizards, and several of them were already competing on the professional circuit.

“My coach showed me an omniocular recording of your duel with Diggory. Very impressive, especially for your age,” one of the boys from Beauxbatons said to Holly.

Fleur and Krum were also here, though Krum looked a little uncomfortable. Holly wasn’t sure if he was as good as everyone else here, or if he’d thought he’d had to attend due to being a Champion. Fleur was rumoured to be very fierce, and Holly was hoping not to have to face off against her. Not as much as she was hoping not to encounter Thomas Avery, who also here, though she was sure she could win that duel.

Holly had to hand in a special permission slip to attend this final competition because the rules about spell use were much looser than the rest of the competitions. Sirius had signed it, of course, but he had told her to be careful. Holly wasn’t all that worried - lose restrictions were good for her because she’d wager she knew more curses than most of these Seventh Years. Some of them were still too dangerous for a sporting duel, but she stood a real chance at being able to smash down shield charms in a reasonable timeframe under these rules.

The open question was how many of them were capable of occlumency. It was a rare art, but Holly knew that Aurors at least were trained in it. Maybe some of the Seventh Years had done a little extracurricular preparation, though she’d be surprised if many of them knew it. Legilimency, especially as powerful as hers, was rarer still.

Her first duel was against a boy from Durmstrang, Frederick Dahlberg. He had a thick beard and greasy hair that was pulled back and tied up with a ribbon, a common hairstyle amongst wizards, and Holly recognised his stance. A Swedish classicist, she thought. Not a common style these days, and one mostly passed down from master to apprentice.

Holly cast first, her disarming spell flying forwards only moments after Flitwick called the duel to start. Frederick deflected it easily, but that was enough for Holly. She followed it up by whipping lightning across his weak, nonverbal shield. It cracked and splintered, and he was forced to spend yet more time recasting it - time Holly spent extending her mind.

She found no mental defences, and just as easily as she had with Cedric she was able to listen to Frederick’s instincts. She didn’t need to shield herself or try to anticipate what spell he might cast next - Holly knew what he was going to cast before he did. Her blasting curses slammed into his shield charms, and the few offensive spells he did cast were unable to buy him any time.

Holly simply pushed him, attacking and attacking until eventual - perhaps a minute later - she broke his shields with a whip of bright blue-white lightning and disarmed him before he could cast another spell.

Frederick was very gracious in defeat, and Holly handed him back his wand with a smile. Then she returned to the waiting area, and felt her blood run cold as the next round came up - she was to face Thomas Avery in the second round, the boy whose father she had killed with his own curse during the attack on the Quidditch World Cup.

Chapter 67: Year Four, Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Text

Holly walked back up to the platform, trying not to remember how Avery’s father had screamed. How he’d died in agony, his own dark curse devouring him because had ordered it to. She felt her hand shake a little, and she felt like screaming. Why now, she despaired, of all times?

Then she stood facing Avery, and her hand stilled. Her heart beat faster, and she felt something touch her mind. A brief, subtle presence - Avery was hoping to do the same thing to her that she had done to Frederik and Cedric. His Legilimency was inelegant and amatuerish, so she thought that he had little experience with it - someone must have taught him this only recently.

Attempting to use it before the duel had started was a breach of the rules, but Holly was more interested in who had taught it to Avery. She carefully misdirected his probe, emptying her mind and leading him into false trails. Then she followed the probe back, slipping into Avery’s mind and through his mediocre Occlumency.

She did not restrain herself to merely his instincts, instead rifling through his memories. She dashed through hazy half-recalled study sessions, waded through tears shed for his father, and avoided anything that looked like a broom cupboard until she found it.

Holly couldn’t see faces, only a shadowy collection of figures. Avery knelt, his arm burning with pain, and something touched his mind. Something dark and something powerful. Something that was achingly familiar, as if Holly had known it all her life.

She knew his task, and she felt sick. He was being used as a kamikaze - an assassin who could succeed because he would not try to escape. He was an angry child, grieving for the loss of a strict but much-loved father, who had been turned into a weapon aimed at her.

Flitwick called for the duel to start, and Holly knew she had only one chance to save Avery from at least life in Azkaban. She fed him a false instinct, and she knew his own. She jabbed her wand forward, casting the fastest spell she knew - the disarming charm.

She’d fooled Avery into thinking she was going to shield as an opening, and so he had jumped straight to the killing blow. Before he could begin the incantation, he went tumbling backwards and Holly plucked his wand out of the air. People in the stands along the sides of the Hall stood and cheered at such a quick and dramatic victory, but Holly ignored them. She walked over to Avery, who seemed to have hurt his leg when he landed, and knelt down next to him.

“I know what you wanted to do, Avery. It won’t bring your father back, and if you’re lucky you’d have been spending your days in Azkaban. Moody might just have splattered you across the platform. You get one chance, from me. You try that again, and it won’t be a disarming charm,” Holly whispered to him, her voice calm and measured. She did not sound angry, nor disquieted. Her hand was still.

He nodded, and Holly helped him up. She looked at him and handed him back his wand. He took it, gingerly, and Holly felt something as she handed it back. Some surge of recognition from the wand, acknowledging the true stakes of the duel and her decision to return it.

Dumbledore looked at her from the staff table, and she saw pride in his sparkling blue eyes. She also caught Moody sliding his wand back into his sleeve, and shook her head ruefully. Of course there was a backup plan. Moody took Avery, clearly shaken and blank-faced, out of the hall.

With Avery defeated, Holly was able to watch the other duells with far less stress. She marvelled at how good some of the Seventh years really were, and she knew that she had done something incredible just by reaching this point. She had so many advantages - teachers who’d taken time for just her, friends willing to help - but she had only half the magical education of her opponents here, and they were mostly rich purebloods with tutors to spare.

She thought about what Hagrid had told her, about why he wanted her to win. She’d thought about entering the tournament at the start of the year mostly just because it sounded exciting. But now... now she had a reason to win it - and, she thought, when the chips were down and it really mattered, that was when she did her best.

Holly didn’t end up facing Krum. He was knocked out in the third round, and Holly defeated her opponent there with little trouble. As good as many of the duellists here were, only Avery had possessed even basic Occlumency - and without it, there was little they could really do. It was almost impossible to defeat someone who knew what you were going to cast before you did.

The last duel of the entire competition came down to Holly and Fleur, who had used her nearly supernatural speed and reflexes to outcast most of her opponents. As they took their positions, Holly narrowed her eyes - Fleur was fast, but she didn’t think she was that fast. She, like Holly, was probably using some kind of magic to read her opponents moves.

Flitwick called start, and neither of them moved. They battled, yes, but not in the physical world. Their respective mental probes raced through fake pathways and cleverly disguised traps. Holly felt Fleur’s allure - that supernatural desire to please her - ramp up drastically. Her occlumency protected her, as it did from Fleur’s surprisingly strong Legilmency.

Neither of them could gain an upper hand in their battle of wills, and so almost by mutual agreement they retreated to their own minds. People in the crowd seemed to be wondering what was going on, wondering why the two champions were merely standing ready and not casting.

“Your will is most admirable, Mademoiselle Potter,” Fleur said.

“As is your own, Fleur. The old fashioned way, then?” Holly asked, and she raised her wand. They cast their first spells then, and fought in the much more traditional fence of hex and shield. Blasting hexes smashes across shimmering fields of energy, stunning spells slammed into one another in midair, and Holly whipped lighting at Fleur’s incredibly strong shield charms.

It was a whirlwind of light and noise, exactly the kind of show the crowd was waiting for. Without access to the other’s mind, both of them could dodge far fewer spells and had to instead rely on shield charms much more. Fleur’s shield charms were better than Holly’s, but Holly was faster and more accurate when it came to casting spells.

Fleur sent flocks of conjured birds to attack Holly, but she burnt them all to a crisp with a single wave of her wand and conjured hands from the surface of the platform to try to drag Fleur down. The nimble part-Veela girl evaded the grasping hands, trusted in her shield charm for a moment, and blasted the hands apart with a blasting hex.

Holly tried using bright flashes of light and loud sounds to disguise her attacks, but Fleur would simply retreat behind her shields, and with the spells at her disposal for this duel Holly couldn’t break them fast enough.

Then, it happened. Holly’s shield broke, and Fleur moved quickly to take advantage of it. Holly had the briefest moment to decide what to do, and she did not cast another shield. That way only left a grinding battle of attrition she was unsure she’d win. Instead, even as Fleur moved through the motions of a stunning spell, so did Holly. They both cast at almost the exact same time, and Holly threw herself to the side.

She woke up on the floor of the platform and heard Flitwick awaken someone else. She got to her feet, unsteadily, and looked around. Fleur was also picking herself up off the floor, and Holly’s mind raced at the implications - had she lost? Had she won? She didn’t know.

“Well, I have never seen anything like it... a draw by a double knockout! Miss Delacour, Miss Potter - do either of you demand a continuation?” Flitwick asked, and Holly half-recalled the rules on draws.

She looked at Fleur, and they both shook their heads.

“I’m happy to leave it at a draw, professor,” Holly said.

“As am I. We shall let the third task determine the victor, no?” Fleur said, and Holly nodded. They shook hands, and Holly was very surprised when Fleur hugged her.

“That was amazing, Holly!” Ginny said, and Holly took her girlfriend’s hand in her own as they walked out onto the grounds with their friends to enjoy the sun a little. It really was a rare beautiful day - blue skies, a pleasant temperature and an even more pleasant breeze.

Holly spent the time everyone else was taking exams getting ready for the third task, and catching up on some much-needed rest. She kept up her flights over the maze at night, and she saw new creatures being delivered and traps being installed. Some of Hagrid’s Blast-Ended Skrewts were visible from the air, and there were surely more threats that were covered by the upper levels of the maze. She didn't see Avery again, after the duel. He was absent from dinner that night, and when she checked the Maurder's map, he was in Dumbledore's office. He stepped into the fireplace and didn't come back.

On the morning of the Third Task, Holly ate her breakfast with surprising energy. Whatever happened, after today the tournament would be over. She wanted to win - more than she had ever thought possible back when she’d been entered - but she felt calm as she finished the last of her bacon. She saw McGonagall walking towards her out of the corner of her eye, and turned to face the professor.

“Potter, the Champions are congregating in the chamber off the hall after breakfast,” McGonagall said.

“Already?” Holly asked, surprised.

“The Champion’s families are invited to watch the task. This is just a chance for you to greet them,” McGonagall said, and Holly nodded. She hoped Remus had come as well as Sirius. He and her Godfather might not have been married, but she knew how much they cared for one another.

She finished the last bit of egg on her plate, sculled the rest of her pumpkin juice, and headed up to the chamber behind the Great Hall. The hidden door swung open as she approached, and she saw that the other champions were already inside. Fleur was talking to her sister, a little girl who looked just like her, whilst her silver-haired parents watched on. Krum was next to a gruff man and a dark-haired woman, and he was speaking to them in rapid Bulgarian. Cedric was sitting next to his father in a pair of worn-looking armchairs.

Sirius and Remus were standing by the entrance, and Holly smiled as she saw them.

“Sirisu! Remus!” Holly said and she hugged Sirius tightly, and then Remus more gently. He looked a little worn out, but he still smiled as she hugged him.

“It’s good to see you both,” Holly said, smiling widely.

“It’s good to see you too, kid. You’ve grown since the last time I saw you in person,” Sirius said.

“We listened to the other tasks on the wizarding wireless, but I’m glad we can be here this time,” Remus said, and Holly nodded.

“The maze they’ve built looks wicked. It’s got multiple levels and all sorts of stuff,” Holly said.

“I know - Bagman showed us all around it while you were having breakfast. Merlin, is he annoying. What an ass,” Sirius said, and Holly laughed.

“He’s awful. Not a bad commentator, though,” Holly said.

They then left the small chamber and walked onto the grounds, enjoying the clear skies and relatively warm weather. Holly talked about nothing all that serious, but she still felt glad to talk to her Godfather. Her friends wandered over after about an hour, and she smiled as they did.

“So this is the infamous girlfriend... she doesn’t look like she’s leading you down a path of wickedness,” Sirius said, laughing, as Ginny approached.

“Shut it, you overgrown dog. Or I’ll show you just how wicked I am,” Ginny said, and that made Holly laugh too. Dobby brought them a picnic basket and they had lunch outside, with Holly inviting her elf friend to sit with them. He took some convincing but he did it in the end.

The day passed all too quickly, however, and soon enough Holly was walking down to the pitch after the evening feast. The path was lined with burning torches, and the champions were walking down before the rest of the school. It gave the procession an eerie affair, and Holly could swear she’d seen Sirius in his dog form watching from the forest’s edges - but he was standing right next to her, the whole time.

Sirius and Remus wished her luck, and then Holly was alone with the other champions in front of the maze whilst the stands above them filled with people. The Third Task was about to begin.

Chapter 68: Year Four, Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Text

Holly only listened idly as McGonagall explained how to call for help or give up, her heart beating loudly in her chest. The crowd was already murmuring, the sound of people climbing the wooden stairs up to the stands like a hundred huge drumbeats. She could tell the other champions were just as nervous as her, and they were all looking at the same thing - the distant blue glow of the Triwizard Cup from its palace atop the pyramidal maze.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my great pleasure to welcome you to the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament! Now, a reminder of the current standings - Miss Potter and Mr Diggory of Hogwarts are tied at eighty-five points each. Miss Delacour of Beauxbatons is at seventy-six points, and then Mr Krum of Durmstrang at seventy-five points. A close, a very close set of scores. In a moment, Miss Potter and Mr Diggory will enter the maze - and then nine minutes later, so will Miss Delacour. One minute after that, Mr Krum will follow,” Bagman said, sitting in the commentator’s box.

A number of teachers from the three competing schools walked out then, carrying a variety of odd objects. Madam Hooch was pushing along a floating bludger, Madame Dupont was carrying a number of small pouches and vials, and more. They each approached the champions and started to hand out their boons - Holly got a bludger that would bash through obstacles for her from Madam Hooch for Gryffindor’s victory in the Interschool Quidditch Tournament, as well as a vial of Peruvian instant darkness powder and a set of glasses that could see in the dark from Madame Dupont. Fleur was also given a pair of the glasses, though Holly noticed her own pair were actually also prescription glasses (and, more importantly, the right prescription).

“And the Boons have been handed out. You’ve all aided your champions this year, and they’ll be going into the task with the fruits of your efforts. Miss Potter, Mr Diggory - to the entrance!” bagman said, and Holly walked up to the entrance of the Maze. It was lit only by the moon, and the distant fires lighting the stands. Holly put the glasses she’d won in the duelling competition on, and marvelled at how well she could see.

She could have got much the same effect with her partial Animagus transformation, but it was good not to have to do that in front of the entire school. If she had been a registered Animagus, the whole task would have been over fairly quickly - although someone would probably have added defences against birds, she thought.

Cedric walked next to her, and they stood at the entrance to the Maze. The hedgerows were thick and dark, and Holly could see that it soon split into two paths - one to the right, and one to the left.

“Which one do you want, Holly? - Right or left?” Cedric asked her.

“Left,” Holly said, remembering her overflights of the maze. Cedric’s eyes narrowed a little, but he nodded.

“And... start!” Bagman shouted, just as a set of magical fireworks went off. They exploded loudly and showered the entire stadium in multicoloured sparks, but the noise was soon drowned out by the roar of the crowd.

Holly rushed forward, drawing her wand as she did so, and saw Cedric rush down the right path. She turned to the left and remembered what she’d seen of the way deeper into the maze from her overflight. She knew about the first section, before the next level cut off the view from above, and luckily where the entrance to the next level was (or one of the entrances, at any rate).

Her bludger floated alongside her, and it bashed apart the first obstacle - a gate formed from thick wooden branches, all tangled together. She met few other obstacles after that, her planned route taking her away from most of the creatures and traps that she could see from the air. As she dashed under the next level for the first time, however, she saw something drift out of the shadows towards her.

A cloaked figure, floating in the air, approached. She could see its dead, icy hands - smell the stench of rotting meat and seawater. She felt the cold seep into her, and for a moment she thought Bagman had been insane enough to put a Dementor in the maze.

“Expecto Patronum!” Holly roared, a silver doe charging forth from her wand and sending the boggart flying backwards. Regaining her senses, Holly quickly charmed it into a man wearing a very unconvincing dementor costume and grey face paint. The boggart fled into the hedges, chased away by Holly’s laughter.

She advanced into the shadowy depths below the next level, moving rapidly. She heard the fireworks signalling Fluer’s entrance, and then Krum’s a minute later - she needed to move fast if she wanted to reach the cup first. She had to pay attention to where she was going, however - there were often roots sticking out or imperfections in the grass beneath her feet.

Holly found a way up soon after Krum entered the maze, a spiral staircase made out of weathered, vine-covered stone. An odd mist seemed to surround its base, and Holly could feel the magic in it even from some distance.

She whispered a few quiet words and conjured forth a soft wind. It took on different colours and sounds as it encountered magic, and Holly didn’t like what it showed her of the mist’s magic... but she also knew that no one could see her right now. She transformed into her raven form and landed just above the mist.

Holly made sure to transform back into herself before she emerged from the staircase and was in sight of the crowd again, and she advanced cautiously up to the next next level. Here the walls of the maze were made from that same weathered stone instead of hedges, and she saw something new had been added since her last flight.

A huge minotaur, seemingly made from moving marble and carrying a huge club, stood guard over the way forward. Holly recognised the enchantments from her first year, though this time it lacked the chess theme. It advanced towards her, hefting its club, and Holly grinned.

“BOMBARDA MAXIMA!” she shouted, her curse blasting the stone monster apart in a tremendous explosion. It was like a dozen cannons all firing at once, and much of the walls behind it had bits of marble deeply embedded into them. Holly could hear the crowd cheer at that, and she gave a jaunty little bow to them before rushing deeper into the maze.

Holly thought that this level seemed to be themed after Ancient Greece, not just in the appearance of the maze itself but also the traps and creatures encountered. She had to dispel a hex that slowly covered her with stone, shield herself from a fire-breathing statue of a chimera, and this time she found the stairs guarded by a rather large - and rather familiar - three-headed dog.

Fluffy growled at her with each of his three heads, but Holly knew enough magic now to conjure a fiddle and have it play itself a simple tune. She smiled at the Cerberus as it slept and carefully climbed up to the third level of the maze.

This second last level looked distinctly Ancient Egyptian to Holly, though she had no idea if the hieroglyphs were real writing or just there for aesthetic value. The walls were made from sand-coloured stone, and the floor was packed sand.

She had to navigate a number of mechanical traps and break a curse on a magically locked door to proceed. It was a fairly simple curse, as they went, but it was still N.E.W.T. level arithmancy. Luckily curses like that were one of the many things Holly had covertly studied with the aid of her cloak. She guided the magical currents into a pattern that wouldn’t harm her and then tried to unlock the door by magic.

After perhaps a minute of that, Holly stood back and used a reductor curse to turn the door to dust. It seemed to hang in the air, and Holly could see it reforming before her eyes - so she leapt through it before it got too far.

She heard spellfire up ahead, so Holly cast a disillusionment charm on herself and hoped the loud noises would muffle her footsteps. Fleur and Krum seemed to be in a long-running fight, the longer range and plentiful cover letting it last much longer than the competition duels at ten paces had. Holly had to duck as spells flew overhead, but she made it through without either champion realising that she was there.

A few turns later Holly found the long stone stairs up to the last level - the stone pavilion that held the altar with the Cup. Standing guard over the stairs was a Sphinx - a magical creature with the head of a woman and the body of a winged lion.

“Greetings, young champion. You stand at the edge of victory - merely climb these steps and you shall walk into eternal glory. All you must do... is answer my riddle correctly. Fail to do so, and I attack. If your heart has deserted you, you may return the way you came,” the Sphinx said, her voice deep and hoarse.

“I’ll take the riddle,” Holly said. Then she heard it - someone ascending the steps on the other side of the stone pavilion rather loudly. Holly didn’t have time for a complicated riddle... but she did have a vial of instant darkness powder in her pocket.

The Sphinx began to recite her riddle, whilst Holly palmed the vial. She threw it with great speed, and before the Sphinx could react Holly had dashed past her - the enchanted glasses allowing her to see through the darkness. She heard a very angry roar behind her as she ran up the long stone steps, but she blasted a section behind her into dust with a reductor curse and kept sprinting to the top.

Holly was rather fast on her feet, and she arrived at the top of the steps to the stone pavilion at the exact same time as Cedric. They stared at one another, wand sin their hands, and slowly advanced towards each other. The cup lit the open-sided pavilion with soft blue light, and Holly felt her heart beat faster and faster.

“Well, damn,” Cedric said after a moment. “I figure you’re probably the better duellist, and we’re about as fast as one another. Want to toss a coin for it?” Cedric continued, and Holly laughed despite the tension. Then she heard a huge wing beating behind her. She turned for just an instant, and she saw a very angry Sphinx land at the top of the steps.

Holly and Cedric both dashed for the cop at the same time, Holly only just avoiding the Sphinx’s grasping claw. Cedric was right about how fast she was, Holly thought as they neared the cup. She might have been a little faster, but having to dodge the Sphinx’s swipe had slowed her down just enough to even things out.

She lunged for the cup just as Cedric did, and without a muggle high-speed camera, there was no way to tell which of them had grasped it first. As Holly’s hand gripped the handle on the cup’s side, she felt a familiar sensation - a sharp tug on her navel. She and Cedric were sent whirling away through a confusing tunnel of warping space and multicoloured light until they landed still clutching the cup face down in the dirt.

Holly stood, brushing herself off, and she looked around. She and Cedric appeared to have been transported to a graveyard of some kind, full of old headstones and grandiose statues. Unlike the fine night back at Hogwarts, there was a bitterly cold wind blowing through the graveyard and rolling clouds that promised a storm nearly overhead.

“Where do you think we are - is this some kind of secret last stage to the amaze, you reckon?” Cedric asked. Holly felt a sudden pain in her scar, hot and searing and familiar. She shook her head, trying to think despite the pain.
“N-no. I think something’s up,” Holly whispered, gritting her teeth against the pain.

A figure stepped out from behind an elaborate statue of death, the shadow of the reaper’s scythe visible across her cloak. The woman lowered her hood, and Holly was shocked to see Madam Dupont’s golden eyes staring at her. She heard movement behind them and then more from the treeline at the edge of the graveyard.

“So nice of you to bring a date, Holly,” a man said from behind her, and Holly whirled to look. She didn’t recognise the handsome man who spoke, but something about his dark hair and cold eyes seemed familiar. She saw more cloaked figures, only barely visible in the shadows of the treeline.

“Do rid us of the spare, Barty,” Dupont said, and Holly’s eyes went wide.

Chapter 69: Year Four, Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Text

Holly’s scar burst into even fiercer pain, and it was all she could do to remain standing. Her wand felt heavy in her hand like it was made from lead. Her vision clouded, and she thought of the oddest thing. In the haze of pain that clouded her thoughts, her mind wandered back to Ron’s prophecy.

Before Barty could finish his spell, Holly dragged Cedric down and to the left. The bolt of screaming green light passed overhead and blew apart a gravestone. Holly couldn’t get back up, but Cedric stood up and fought. Bolts of light and explosions whizzed around her, but all she could see was that Cedric was still fighting. Only a few moments passed, but they felt like an eternity to Holly.

Then the pain faded, becoming the familiar ache she had grown so used to. Holly stood, slowly, as Cedric and Barty duelled. The other figures, as well as Dupont, all seemed transfixed with the duel. Perhaps, Holly thought, they believed that she’d fallen unconscious. Her wand felt warm in her hand, a burning heat that seemed as though it would char her skin - yet felt almost comforting. Holly heard faint strains of phoenix song.

She turned and struck at Barty, whipping crackling lightning at him with enough force to shatter his shield charm like a car through a window. Multicoloured shards of magic flew everywhere, and Holly did not give Crouch a moment to recover.

“Get the hell away from him, Crouch!” Holly shouted, the crack of another lightning curse echoing her words.

“Now you’re really done for, asshole!” Cedric shouted as Holly pelted Barty with blasting curses.

“Some half-blood freak who’s read a few dark books could never compare to me. The Dark Lord himself taught me the darkest arts, boy!” Barty replied, his smile manic and his eyes cold. He conjured cursed black flames, but as he shaped them into snakes he was forced to destroy them - for Holly turned each of them against their conjurer, and wove dark curses also in the tongue of serpents.

Cedric seemed surprised at the spells Holly was using, but he was holding his own. He might not know the sorts of deadly dark magic Holly and Crouch did, but blasting curses and cutting hexes were dangerous enough on their own.

“Back to the cup, Holly - we should be able to-” Cedric said, and then it happened. Holly saw the bright green light in the corner of her eye, and she turned too late. Cedric slumped bonelessly to the ground, his eyes dead and glassy. Faint wisps of acrid green smoke rose from his back, and Dupont lowered her wand - still glowing slightly from the power of the Unforgiveable Curse.

“Dear me, Barty. It seems that one overachieving badger and a fourteen-year-old girl were too much for you,” Dupont said, her sing-song voice almost a cackle. She walked forward, and Holly stared in shock at Cedric’s body. She sank to her knees and touched his face, feeling the unnatural coldness the killing curse left behind.

“Cedric...” Holly said, her voice barely more than a horse whisper. She felt tears well in her eyes, and the whispers grew louder.

“I had it under control, Jean,” Barty growled, and the whispers grew louder.

We can make them hurt.

“Oh? You were taking your sweet time dealing with that waste of pure blood, let alone the Potter brat. Not that that’s a surprise - didn’t she derail your little stunt at the World Cup?” Dupont said, and the whispers grew louder. Holly heard phoenix song, too, but it could not drown out the whispers.

We can make them pay.

“He was chosen to oppose the Dark Lord... it is little surprise that the degenerate should be possessed of some power,” Barty replied, and the whispers grew louder.

We can make them die.

Holly closed Cedric’s eyes, knowing that she wanted no one good or decent to see what was about to happen. She wiped away her own tears and felt the magic all around her. Crouch and Dupont had taken her somewhere where leylines met, a place of power.

She stood, and both Crouch and Dupont turned towards her. Holly raised her wand, slowly and deliberately. Her heartbeat had slowed, and her hand was as still as ice. She knew the words, the motion. She knew the hate. She had always known because the whispers had told her. They had told her in her cupboard, they had told her when she had faced Quirrel, and when she’d had her wand to the Heir’s back...

“What are you going to do, freak? Cast some more curses you learnt out of a library book at me? I don’t think you have it in you to do real dark magic, no matter how much you hate me,” Crouch sneered.

“AVADA KEDAVRA!” Holly snarled, and she felt the stain creep into her. She put all of her hate into one spell, one screaming cry of rage and anguish. She saw the green light roar from her wand, head the whistling, screaming noise. She saw Barty Crouch Junior die by her hand, saw the look of utter shock on his face, and only then could she hear anything over the whispers.

Dupont was staring at her, just as wide-eyed as Holly was. She could only look at her wand in horror, feeling sick as little motes of green light were carried away from the still-glowing tip on the cold wind.
“I - I didn’t...” Holly said weakly, but she could say nothing. She had meant to kill Barty, she had known exactly what would happen when she’d cast the Killing Curse. She could hear the phoenix song now, like a roaring chorus or waves crashing on a rocky shore.

Then something hit her hard in the back, the world went dark.

She woke sometime later, though from what her bleary eyes could see she couldn’t have been unconscious too long. It was still night, and Holly could see that the dark clouds had just arrived - perhaps half an hour, she thought. As her vision cleared, she realised something was holding her upright - something cold and immoveable.

The statue of the reaper - of what wizards might call a Deathly Power - had been enchanted to hold Holly tight with one of its stone arms. The other held a skeletal hand over her mouth - she could breathe, but not talk. She could see the pattern on the inside of the statue’s cloak, now, and she thought there was something familiar about it. The other figures Holly had seen were now fully visible. Some of them wore the robes and skull masks of the Death Eaters, some were dressed in dragonhide and goblin chain like Dupont, and some were dressed in yet more styles - furs, formal robes...

Holly saw Barty’s body lying where it’d fallen, and she felt sick. She could still feel the cold killing magic, like an echo on her soul. Cedric was lying not all that far away, and then the Triwizard cup. She saw for the first time the name on the headstone the statue was guarding - TOM RIDDLE - and Holly felt dread.

A huge, bubbling cauldron had been set up not far from her, full of what looked to be blood, and Holly could see one of the Death Eaters standing next to it. His hood and mask were down, though, and Holly saw Lucius Malfoy stir the potion with a look of utter terror on his face. Dupont was standing nearby, holding some sort of bundle, and another figure was chanting in what Holly thought might have been Old Norse.

He was a tall, slender man with long, matted blonde hair. He wore only a pair of dark leather pants, turned a rusty red with old bloodstains, and every inch of his bare chest was covered in runes. They seemed to have been burnt into his skin, and they glowed with a fell red light as he chanted, growing brighter and brighter.

There was a flash of red light, and the crackling fire beneath the cauldron become a bight crimson inferno. It took the form of a coil of snakes, whirling and writhing beneath the cauldron. Holly could feel the magic rushing towards it, as whatever spell the man had used tapped deeply into the natural magic of the world.

“It is done?” asked a high, cold voice - one that was very familiar to Holly, It seemed to have come from the bundle Dupont was holding like a baby.

“It is, my lord. The fires of rebirth have been lit, and the dragon’s blood is ready,” Dupont said, her voice breathy and excited.

“Then begin!” the voice said again, and Dupont strode forwards. Holly got only a glimpse of whatever was in the bundle of dark cloth - but she didn’t need to see to know who the deformed bay-like creature was. To know who that high voice was. Her scar burned, and Holly was thankful for the hand covering her mouth. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of screaming in pain.

Dupont lowered the bundle into the boiling dragon’s blood almost reverently, and the crimson fire beneath roared higher. She looked to Malfoy, whose face seemed to have turned to a stony impassiveness. He raised his long, dark wand and spoke.

“Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!” Lucius Malfoy chanted and was echoed by a dozen more voices. The stone beneath Holly’s feet cracked open with a tremendous snapping noise. Holly’s eyes went wide with horror as she saw dust rise up out of the grave and flow into the bubbling cauldron. As the bone touched the liquid inside, the fire beneath the cauldron turned a familiar bright green.

“Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master!” Malfoy chanted, his voice without emotion or inflection. He slashed at his left hand with his wand, and Holly stared in horror as it fell into the boiling liquid. The wound had an unnatural sheen and no blood spurted from it. The liquid now turned dark green, glowing faintly.

“Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe!” Malfoy chanted one final time, and he advanced on Holly. She stared up at him, defiantly, and he touched his wand to her arm. He moved it carefully across her arm, his cutting charm drawing blood and sending it into the cauldron. Holly felt the pain, but it was barely noticeable next to her scar.

The liquid turned the same bright green colour as the fire, only for the fire to entirely engulf the cauldron. It became a towering beam of writhing snakes, each formed from fire, and then after only a moment, it went out. The liquid inside the cauldron seemed to have all evaporated in that instant, noxious green steam rising from the cauldron as Holly felt the pain in her scar grow more and more.

Something rose out of the cauldron. It was a man, tall and skeletally thin. His skin was unhealthily palid, and as he walked forward the cauldron seemed to melt away before him. He wove shadows into a simple, unadorned set of black robes, and for the first time that night, Holly saw Voldemort’s face.

It was inhuman, with a snakelike nose and utterly hairless. His eyes were a scarlet red, and they glowed softly in the moonlight. He smiled as he saw her, and Holly felt sick. Everyone, Death Eater and foreign dark wizards alike, knelt as Voldemort stood. The wind grew louder and faster, the bitterly cold air carrying away the steam and stench of blood and brimstone.

Lightning flashed in the distance, and Holly could only stare in wide-eyed horror. Lord Voldemort had returned.

Chapter 70: Year Four, Chapter Thirty Six

Chapter Text

“Hello, Holly. I have heard so many things about you, heard of your power. I must admit, at first I thought them the words of fools and desperate old men... but I have seen more, this year. You have performed admirably, though not even your power could prevent my return,” Voldemort said, walking closer and closer to Holly. Nobody else stood yet - they were all still on their knees.

Holly couldn’t speak - the stone hand was still covering her mouth - but she could move her feet a little. She could focus her mind, and sense the magic around her. This graveyard, this town - they were a nexus of leylines, a place where natural magic converged. There was power in the air, in the earth, in the wind here. All Holly had to do was harness it. For that, she needed a little time.

“How foolish of me, you can’t reply. There, isn’t that better?” Voldemort asked as the statue moved its skeletal hand away from Holly’s mouth.

“S-screw you,” Holly said, her voice hoarse.

“Now that’s not very nice. You’ve been so helpful to me, after all - delivering exactly the thing I needed here right on schedule,” Voldemort said, leaning in closer and closer to Holly. She felt her scar burn, and then the faintest trickle of blood burst from it.

“You could have used anybody who hated you for that ritual. Why me? Why go through all that with fixing the tournament instead of having Dupont curse me in the back?” Holly asked, drawing in the grave dirt at her feet slowly and subtly.

“Because there is power in your blood, girl. Your mother’s sacrifice was powerful enough to kill me, once, and powerful enough to drive me from the Stone. Now that same blood that shielded you all these years runs in my veins. Now... now I can touch you,” Voldemort said, and pressed a finger to her scar. Holly screamed as the pain ripped through her, and Voldemort’s finger was covered in blood as he took it away.

“I didn’t need the protection to kill the you in your diary, or your stupid snake,” Holly said, looking Voldemort straight in the eyes. She sent her memory of Riddle’s final, fearful scream towards his mind again and again.

“Lucius has informed me of your victory over my past self. After that... only a fool could doubt your power. Poor Barty did, and look where that got him. He was such a good boy - so loyal, so charming. But you... you have power. We could do great things together,” Voldemort said, and still, the others had not risen. It seemed like in his mind, the only people in the graveyard were him and Holly.

“What makes you think I’d ever help you?” Holly said, and she felt the power grow within her. She felt the storm above with her mind, felt the earth below - and the statue holding her. She just needed time.

“There is darkness in you, girl, and do not deny it. I saw the spell you used to kill Barty, the hate in your eyes. What can Dumbledore and his school offer you compared to me? I can teach you the secrets of Salazar Slytherin and Herpo the Foul, the ancient magics lost to the dark places of history. I can give you power,” Voldemort said, and one of the Death Eaters shifted a little.

Voldemort whirled around, and he lifted Lucius Malfoy into the air with a mere gesture. Malfoy’s hands went to his neck, but something slipped through them. A heavy silver locket seemed to almost drag Lucius through the air towards Voldemort. He held out a hand, and a long yew wand rose from Barty’s body into it.

He took the locket in his hands and opened it. Holly could see that there was a note inside. Something about the locket seemed familiar to her. She had seen it somewhere before, but she couldn’t remember where.

“Where did you get this?” Voldemort asked, his voice almost shaking from anger. Malfoy looked utterly terrified.

“An elf, once belonging to the Blacks-”

“Ah, of course. Probably the same creature... no, that is unimportant. This is his amulet, and yet I cannot feel - who else has worn this, Lucius?” Voldemort asked, his voice cold. Holly’s eyes narrowed.

“The elf said we should all try it, my lord. He said that was your instruc-” Malfoy began, but Voldemort cut him off with a cruciatus curse. He then let Malfoy fall to the ground and ripped the locket from its thin silver chain.

“Gone. All gone - how did he...” Voldemort said. Holly didn’t know what was going, what had so alarmed Voldemort - but she wanted to find out. She delved into Lucius’s mind, the pain of the curse allowing her easy access, and she saw flashes. A house elf, handing a locket to his new master. Slytherin’s locket, kept safe all these years.

She heard the locket whisper, suggest things. How all three of the Malfoys should wear it, but Draco most of all. How it wanted to know her strength, how it had instructed Kreacher to put her name in the Goblet. How it had slowly turned each of the Malfoys against one another, twisted them until they all desired it to belong to them alone.

How Draco had stolen it, thinking to destroy it - to stop it from twisting his family any further. How he had held it above the cursed flame, and how it had overcome him. How his face had melted as the memory inside the locket had overtaken him, and how nothing of him remained.

Just a disguise so flawless it could fool even Albus Dumbledore and the Marauder’s Map.

Holly’s eyes went wide as she realised what had happened. Whatever the diary had been, Voldemort hadn’t simply made one in his school days - he’d made more. One of them had been the locket Lucius Malfoy was currently wearing, but it no longer held any memory of Voldemort, any of his power.

Because it had done what the diary could not, and returned. It had bided its time and stolen a body for good, utterly annihilating whatever might have remained of Draco. Holly felt sick. Draco might have been her enemy at school, but he hadn’t deserved that. She’d heard his screams as his face melted.

She saw the note, then. It was written in familiar handwriting, and lay and just the right angle so that she could read it in the little moonlight that made its way through the clouds.

To the victor the spoils. By the time you read this, I shall be long gone - along with every Galleon dear Lucius had. I will return and take what should have been mine. There is, after all, only room for one Dark Lord.

Lord Voldemort had not only returned, he had returned twice. Somewhere out there was a second Voldemort, running around with Draco Malfoy’s body... and he had been ever since the last Hogsmeade weekend. Malfoy had gone to visit his parents in the village, Holly remembered. She hadn’t seen him act unusual ever since - no more crying or fearful looks.

She needed to escape, to tell Dumbledore what had happened. She channelled more power through the leylines, working magic without word or gesture - only will. Such put magic into the storm above, the ground below, and the many statues of the graveyard. She could never use magic like that in a fight, but she was lucky that Voldemort loved to hear himself talk - and that he’d gotten distracted by Malfoy.

“Oh Lucius, did you not listen when I entrusted the diary to you? You were not to allow anyone to fall under its spell. We must move quickly, then... avada kedvra,” Voldemort said, almost casually turning the killing curse on Lucius.

“My lord?” Dupont asked.

“Dear Lucius has been most foolish with one of my things, my dear. But our plans can continue - ah, Holly. I had almost forgotten. Have you considered my offer?” Voldemort asked her, as the others started to rise.

Holly had to close her eyes because the sheer power she was channelling through her body had caused them to glow. She could feel the magic burning in her veins, now. It was power unlike any she had experienced before like she was tapping into some cosmic power socket with a fork.

“Not even you will join you, Tom. I’m not going to join your stupid collection of sycophants and losers,” Holly said. She needed just another moment.

“A pity. I had planned to duel you, to show how weak the so-called Girl Who Lived Was. Fantasied about it, as I felt the pain of my homunculus’s body. But foolish and young you may be, I cannot call you weak. Such a bout would be an... unacceptable risk, I do hope you understand. And you ready to die, then, Holly Potter?” Voldemort asked her, and Holly felt the magic click into place.

“No. Are you?” Holly asked, and she opened her eyes. They were glowing bright green, and as she released the magic she had been ever so slowly building, there was the audible noise of phoenix song.

The statue of Death released her, and its stone scythe smashed into Voldemort’s chest before he could react. He was thrown backwards - not cut by the dull blade, but winded - and landed in a heap some distance away. All around the graveyard stone angels, babies, and animals came to life. The stone figures had the strength of a troll and hides of thick marble, and they had all of Holly’s rage.

Lightning struck a half dozen of the dark wizards in the clearing as the storm clouds above burst to life, a torrential downpour transforming the smooth dirt and grass of the graveyard into mud. It tried to swallow the Death Eaters, becoming almost a living thing that snatched at them and tried to drag them down into the graves.

One foreign dark wizard was gored to death by a stone unicorn, and another trampled. Many of them tried to destroy the statues, and some succeeded. Stone was only so much of a defence against magic, even stone imbued with power like that Holly had given the statues. More were lying injured or dead from the lightning strikes and several had been taken beneath the earth.

A Death Eater - perhaps Goyle, she thought - tried to stop her. Holly cut him down with an arc of crackling black lightning as she strode forward. The mud was as solid as stone for her, and the lightning would not touch her.

Voldemort rose, and Holly saw as he simply floated above the ground - flight, without broomstick or carpet. His face was contorted with a look of pure anger, blood seeping into his robes where the Reaper had smashed in his ribs.

“Dumbledore has taught you well,” Voldemort said, his injuries seemingly no distraction.

“Better than you could have,” Holly said, and she raised her wand.

“Do you mean to fight me, girl? Your tricks might have let you turn this place against me, but you know you can not defeat me in open combat,” Voldemort said, floating slowly towards her.

Dupont was holding off a half dozen statues, including the reaper that had held Holly captive. It swung at her shield charm, stone sparking on the field of magical energy. She blasted apart a child-sized angel and conjured vines to hold down a rampaging unicorn. Lightning struck from the sky at her, but her shield charms were strong.

“Maybe... but what did you call it? An ‘unacceptable risk’? I think I’ll take my chances,” Holly said. She extended her magic into the pools of water that had gathered in the numerous craters that now dotted the graveyard, remembering Dumbledore’s words.

“Avada Kedavra!” Voldemort shouted, and Holly called the rainwater to her defence. The killing curse exploded against it, turning it into a cloud of sizzling steam. Again Voldemort cast, and again Holly blocked it with the rainwater.

Holly slashed her wand at Voldemort, sending a crackling whip of lightning towards him just as he cast another killing curse. For a moment Holly thought she’d been too slow, but the two spells seemed to veer into one another in mid-air. They exploded in a shower of sparks, and Holly felt something in her wand, heard a distant strain of phoenix song.

She cast again, this time a disarming charm - the fastest spell she could cast. Voldemort nearly matched her in speed with the usually vastly slower killing curse, and Holly knew that without whatever magic caused their spells to collide, she would have been dead. She simply wasn’t good enough to fight Voldemort head-on - and they both knew it.

Then one of her disarming charms met another of his killing curses in mid-air, but this time they did not explode. Holly felt something touch her wand, a thin beam of golden light extending out from it - as it did from Voldemort’s wand. It felt like her wand was on fire, but Holly held on for dear life.

The storm raged around them, stone warriors and living mud fighting against dozens of dark wizards. All the while, Holly and Voldemort were connected by the strange thread of golden light.

Chapter 71: Year Four, Chapter Thirty Seven

Chapter Text

“Do not interfere!” Voldemort cried out, but his words were swallowed up by the noise of the storm. Lighting struck so rapidly that the thunder seemed to merge into one continuous explosion of noise, and the sounds of the Death Eaters defending themselves against the statues filled any quiet moment. Rain poured down around them and as the golden beam connected Holly’s wand with Voldemort’s it seemed to bend around the two of them. Where raindrops would get near them, they sizzled away into steam in midair.

Holly felt herself be lifted off the ground, and she saw it happen to Voldemort too. They were suspended in midair, the golden beam still linking their wands. Energy, wild and powerful magic, crackled along it and split off like arcs of electricity. Thousands of golden beams curved around them, forming a cage that neither the wind or the rain could breach. A bolt of lightning struck it, but could not go through it - nor could the stray spells that splashed harmlessly against it.

The Death Eaters and other dark wizards in the clearing seemed then to notice what was going on, notice the cage of golden light. They could spare little time to focus on it though - the statues were still fighting them, though many had been blasted apart, and they had to seek shelter from the storm.

As the cage formed, Holly thought she heard... something. She wasn’t sure what it was, but even through the noise of the storm and the battle raging outside, she could hear whispers. They weren’t like the ones in her head, the ones that had her voice but with a coldness she’d never known. They sounded like a chorus, heard from another room.

“What have you done?!” Voldemort asked, confused and, Holly thought, perhaps a little afraid. She didn’t answer, instead focusing on her wand. She felt the tremendous heat of it, but she knew it wouldn’t burn her. She felt the magic flowing through her and into the beam of golden light, heard the hum of it - a frequency, maybe.

Then, as the last threads of golden light touched the ground, Holly heard a familiar song. Phoenix song, the same thing she’d been hearing throughout the entire ceremony, but far louder. No longer did it sound distant, no longer did it hover so faintly at the edge of her hearing that it might have been a memory. It was somehow louder than the crack of thunder and the roar of the wind without being painful. It simply had more authority than them, Holly thought. A sound so magical that it had to be heard over anything else.

“Hold on, Holly,” she heard in her ear, the whisper crisp and clean as though someone had been standing right beside her. It was a woman’s voice, though not one she recognised.

More and more energy seemed to rush into the central beam, and then Holly felt it - some force pushing against her. She pushed back, and she realised that she and Voldemort were engaged in some kind of struggle - not a physical one, but a mental one. She could only rely on her will, as could he.

The Phoenix song made the tiredness in Holly’s muscles disappear, the fog of fatigue and self-doubt disappear from her mind. It felt like she’d had a good night’s rest and more, allowing her to think with utter clarity. She knew it would not last, that the trauma of what she’d endured here - of what she’d done here - would last far longer than the relief whatever this magic was provided.

But for now, it was enough, and she knew it would not have the same effect on Voldemort. She focused all her will, every ounce of courage and every inch of determination, and pushed. She felt her wand get hotter and hotter as yet more magic flowed through her. She saw her veins glow the same gold as the energy connecting her and Voldemort, and saw it do the same thing to him. She saw the red glow of his eyes be swallowed up by that golden light and felt it happen to her.

Each of them was calling on more magic than they could ever channel normally, taking more and more from whatever it was that wizards drew their powers from. Holly felt every part of her burn, and yet there was no pain. The phoenix song soothed her, healed her burning skin and boiling blood. Voldemort could not withstand it, and she realised then that he had some weakness, some part of his dark power that could not withstand it the way she could.

She pushed harder and harder, knowing that she was surely placing herself in danger. A witch could not use up all her magic, or exhaust herself with it - but everyone could only channel so much at one time. Holly was far beyond that point now, and this was not the ordered, clam magic that she used to cast spells. It was wild, like the natural magic she’d used to animate the statues and call down the storm.

Then, all at once, it seemed like a surge of magic ran down the golden beam connecting her and Voldemort. It slammed into his wand, and there was what sounded like a scream of pain, although Voldemort’s mouth was firmly shut. Strange ghostly shapes flew out of his wand - echoes, perhaps. She saw illusionary water explode into steam half a dozen times, and then a man emerged from the wand.

He was old, youthful muscle giving way to fat. She couldn’t tell what colour his hair had been, but she was sure it would have been grey. He was dressed like a muggle - just an ordinary man, she thought. He could have been any older fellow from any country town.

“He - he was a real wizard then? You fight him, girl,” the ghost said, and Holly nodded. He floated in the air, and Voldemort looked at him disdainfully.

“I will,” she promised, and she looked at Voldemort’s yew wand. She saw more smoke forming, and she knew what would be next. She was afraid of what would be next. She wanted more than anything to hear her voice, but she was afraid of what she’d say. She almost let go of her wand, but somehow she managed to hold onto it as a ghostly wand formed near Voldemort.

Lily Potter glided towards Holly, and she looked just like she did in photos Holly had seen. She couldn;t see her red hair, or her green eyes, but she knew. She saw her mother smile at her, her face full of warmth, and Holly felt relief. She put her hand to Holly’s face, and she felt a strange warmth. It was nothing like the coldness she’d felt when a ghost had touched her.

“You’ve been so brave, Holly. Hold on, hold on just for a little longer,” her mother said, and Holly felt tears roll down her cheeks. She knew she would never forget hearing her mother say her name with such love in her voice, even if she lived to be as old as Dumbledore.

She couldn’t speak, but she nodded. She saw the next shape emerge from Voldemort’s wand, and James Potter glided towards her. The ghosts, shades, memories - whatever they were, her parents were on either side of her.

“It’s a beautiful name, Holly. We can stay for only moments after you break the connection, but we’ll give you as long as we can,” her father said, and she knew he would.

“You have to get to the portkey, Holly. It will take you back, you understand?” her mother asked her.

“I - I understand,” Holly said, her voice wavering.

“I love you so much, my wonderful daughter,” her mother said, and Holly felt more tears fall from her eyes.

“I know you can do this, Holly. When you break the connection... call on them. They’ll listen, and the people here have their own scores to settle with him,” her father said, and Holly only half-understood.

Voldemort was staring at her in horror, and the battle outside the cage seemed to have died down - the last of the statues had been destroyed. The storm still raged, and Holly hoped that would be enough.

“Break it, break it now!” her mother said, and Holly looked at her one last time. Then, turning to look at her father, she yanked her wand upwards. The golden cord shattered, and she and Voldemort fell to the ground slowly. The cage around them started to decay, and the three ghosts rushed towards Voldemort.

Holly remembered her father’s words, and she felt the magic around her. She felt the magic beneath the earth, and beyond this place. She knew that here, somehow, if she called that they would listen. They could not stay long, because they were not ghosts, but they could stay long enough. The last of her tears dropped into the watery ground below, and Holly called out with her magic.

Ghostly figures rose from every grave, men and women and children of all ages. They rushed towards Voldemort and towards his followers, and Holly knew that without them she wouldn’t have had the time to escape so many dark wizards. She ran, the phoenix song already fading from her tired muscles. The cup was still glowing blue in the distance, and Holly raced towards it.

She passed Cedric’s body, and she looked at it for only a moment. He’d been killed by Dupont, so he had said nothing to her, but she grabbed his still warm hand and held out her wand.

“Accio!” she cried, and the cup flew towards her. Someone fired off a spell, but it was just moments too late as Holly touched the cup with her wand hand. She disappeared in a whirl of colour and sound, her hand clutching Cedric’s.

She landed on the grass of the pitch, just in front of the entrance to the maze. Fireworks exploded above her, and she heard the cheer of the crowd. She released Cedric’s hand, and his corpse flopped limply into the grass. Her face was streaked with blood, and her right arm was covered in it.

Holly sank to her knees, the exhaustion hitting her like a wave. She saw someone move in the crowd - she saw Malfoy stand, touching his hand to a necklace hidden beneath his robes. A portkey. She felt her wand fall from her fingers as Malfoy disappeared in a flash of light, smiling at her all the while.

Someone screamed, but Holly couldn’t pick them out of the crowd. It was all too loud, too much noise rushing at her. She saw someone running towards her, but her glasses had fallen off of her face. She felt around for them, her fingers running across them in the grass, and then people were surrounding her.

Amos Diggory wailed over his son’s body, and Sirius and Remus seemed to be physically shielding Holly from view. Dumbledore appeared then, and Holly saw the crowd of onlookers part before him.

Holly knew she’d only have the strength to say a few words. She could already feel the tiredness spread throughout her, feel the pressure behind her eyes to just close them. Everything hurt.

“He-’s - he’s back,” Holly said, and she felt her strength leave her even as she spoke. She fell forwards and, for the second time that day, the world faded to black.

Chapter 72: Year Four, Chapter Thirty Eight

Chapter Text

Holly woke up in the Hospital Wing, staring up at a familiar ceiling. Everything hurt, but there was a numbness to it - like it was happening to some other Holly. She didn’t like the feeling. She scrambled for her glasses, found them by her bedside, and sat up entirely too fast. Her vision swam, and her back screamed in that same dull, foreign pain.

“It pains me that we keep meeting like this, Holly,” Dumbledore said, and Holly turned her head to see him sitting in one of his conjured armchairs. No one else, not even Madam Pomfrey, was in the Hospital Wing.

“How long have I been-”

“Only a few minutes. I am afraid I asked Madam Pomfrey to wake you up and to give you something for your pain, quite against her advice. We have precious little time if what you said has really happened,” Dumbledore said.

“It happened,” Holly said, quiet and angry.

“Never think that I doubt you, my dear girl. In any other case, I would let you sleep, for your injuries are both severe and unusual. But...”

“But Voldemort’s back. That’s not the worst of it,” Holly said, and Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “He had another diary - well, not another diary. It was a locket, but it had a... a memory of him in it? It took over Draco Malfoy. Fully.”

“Entirely - it has subsumed him?” Dumbledore asked.

“I saw his dad’s memory of his face melting off. There’s... there’s nothing of that stupid git left, and I’m sad about it. I hated him, and he hated me,” Holly said, pulling her knees up beneath the sheets and putting her arms around them.

“Because he was a boy caught up in the schemes of those older and more powerful than him, and they destroyed him. Empathy is not weakness, Holly,” Dumbledore said.

“I used it,” Holly whispered, ashamed. Her wand hand was still as she remembered pouring all of her hate, all of her fury, into the spell. Into the Killing Curse.

“Of that, I am well aware. Fortunately, I took the liberty to... edit the history of your wand, before any Aurors arrived,” Dumbledore said. His voice didn’t have that tone of levity, and his eyes didn’t sparkle, but it wasn’t condemnation either.

“I - maybe I deserve to go to Azkaban,” Holly said. She couldn’t look at Dumbledore, couldn’t face him. She’d promised him, long ago, not to use a spell like the Unforgivables.

“You were a fourteen-year-old girl surrounded by dangerous killers who wished you harm. Killers who had already slain your friend. I will not judge you for what you did to save yourself. I am only glad you were able to return to us. Nobody is free of evil in their heart, of hate. Just moments ago, you showed compassion for a boy you professed to hate. Darkness does not rule your heart, Holly,” Dumbledore said, his voice quiet and soothing. It seemed to blend, almost, with the quiet ticking of the clock above Holly’s bed.

“I - I saw my parents,” Holly said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“How did - ah, of course. Brother wands,” Dumbledore said, and Holly managed a small smile at seeing her headmaster work it out so quickly. She wanted to ask about what he meant by brother wands, but she was still a little out of it.

“Were - were they real?” Holly asked, desperate to know. Desperate to have one little point of light in that awful place.

“There is no magic that can bring the dead back to life, Holly... but in rare cases, they might be called to this plane. A spirit - not a ghost, but a spirit - might be called by especially strong magic. And a clash between brother wands, by a witch and a wizard as powerful as you and Tom Riddle? That is powerful enough,” Dumbledore said, carefully.

“That’s not a yes or no,” Holly replied.

“It isn’t. Despite what school rumour, and poorly written chocolate frog cards, may claim - I do not know everything there is to know about magic. Merely most of it. But, though I cannot say for certain, I do think they were spirits, not mere projections,” Dumbledore said, and Holly smiled.

Everything still hurt, Voldemort was still back, and Cedric was still dead... but her parents had really said those things.

“She - she said my name,” Holly said, tears in her eyes. She knew she’d remember that forever, remember her mother’s soft voice. Remember how her parents had done nothing but love her.

“I am not surprised. If there was one quality that both your parents shared, it was the ability to care for those our society does not. There are very few teenage boys who would willingly be friends with a werewolf and fewer still who would become Animagi for them. Now, I think, it is time for you to get back to your rest. I have kept you from it long enough,” Dumbledore said, rising.

He waved his wand, and Holly felt sleep overtake her with surprising speed. She closed her eyes, still wet with tears, and welcomed sleep.

She woke up quite a while later, judging by the sunlight just creeping above the horizon. People seemed to be clustered around her bed, all of them asleep. Sirius and Remus, holding hands and leaning into one another. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were sitting on the other side of her bed.

Holly still hurt, but it was an ordinary pain - one that’d go away soon enough. It was no longer that intense but dulled pain she’d felt before. She looked away from the bed across the hospital wing - the one with the curtains drawn closed. She knew whose body was lying there, cold and stiff, and dead.

“I’m sorry, Cedric. I - I’m sorry,” Holly said, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t like him like she once did, but Holly knew that Cedric Diggory had been one of the best people she’d known. Loyal, hardworking, and fair to a fault. He’d had the courage of a lion, but it was his heart that had made him great. And, because of her, it would never beat again.

Death was with her, she thought bitterly. Those dogs she’d been seeing - the first time, at Hermione’s house and then again this year. The way that statue had been so easy to influence - it hadn’t taken any effort, like the others. It had wanted to listen to her, wanted to follow her commands. It had even had the same inner lining on its cloak as her invisibility cloak.

It was all superstition and coincidence, of course. She’d probably just seen a dog, and the lining of her invisibility cloak had to be a common enough pattern. The sort of half-dream, half-thoughts she had in the strange space between being asleep and being awake weren’t the kind of thing she had to worry about. She had more than enough worries in the waking world.

“Good to see you, kid,” Sirius said, smiling as he opened his eyes.

“It’s good to see you too, Sirius,” Holly said.

“I should stay until you’re out of here-” Sirius began, but Holly cut him off.

“But Dumbledore needs you and Remus somewhere? Go. Just - just knowing there was someone waiting for me to wake up is enough,” Holly said, and she meant it.

Ginny woke up next, ad she hopped onto Holly’s bed. She hugged Holly, and Holly was damn tempted to kiss her - though her breath was probably awful.

“I was so worried, Holly,” Ginny said, not letting go of her.

“I’m fine, see? Still got all my limbs and everything,” Holly said, smiling a little. As dark as the world was these days, she thought it needed a little laughter.

“Is he really back?” Ginny asked, her voice low and steady and full of emotion locked in a steel cage.

“He’s back,” Holly said, and Ginny hugged her tighter. Maybe, Holly thought, it might turn out all right in the end - if she had her friends, and her girlfriend, with her. She knew she could face him, now. She’d been so afraid of not being up to it when the time came. That she’d fold when she had to look him - the real him - in the eye,

That afternoon, as Holly was still recovering in her hospital wing bed, she had a rather more official visitor. Fudge, Dumbledore, and a number of uniformed people Holly assumed were Hitwizards walked into the Hospital Wing. She tensed up for a moment, holding her wand beneath her sheets, thinking that they were here to arrest her - but Dumbledore seemed calmed. She relaxed a little.

“It - it just can’t be true, Dumbledore. After all these years, he’s back? And this business about two of him!?” Fudge exclaimed as he approached Holly’s bed.

“I think you will find Miss Potter’s testimony most instructive, Cornelius. And you’ve seen her wand’s record - I’m quite sure the accidental magic reversal squad picked up that storm,” Dumbledore said.

“And all they found was the body of that Crouch fellow and a ruined graveyard! Now, I don’t doubt we have a problem, Dumbledore, but it just - oh, you’re awake!” Fudge squeaked, as he saw Holly sitting up in her bed.

“I’m safely in the land of the living, Minister,” Holly said.

“Well, we’re all glad about that. Dumbledore here has been - well, he’s been saying some things...” Fudge said, awkwardly.

“Like that Voldemort’s back?” Holly replied, her tone neutral.

“He - he just can’t be!”

“Look, minister. I’ll let you view my memory, take veritaserum - whatever you want. He’s back, and there’s two of him this time,” Holly said.

“Memories can be faked! Crouch and this foreign woman - Dupont, that was her name - could have implanted it in your mind!” Fudge said, his voice almost hysterical. Holly knew that he didn’t really believe what he was saying.

“Cornelius... can I call you Cornelius? Anyway, you know Dumbledore’s advice has never led you astray, and neither has mine. Barty Crouch Senior was clearly way more guilty than any of us thought, and you put him in Azkaban. Do you want to be remembered as anything but a coward? Don’t ignore this,” Holly said, looking right at Fudge.

“A coward!? Why I’ve never-”

“What other word is there for someone who’d rather leave Britain defenceless instead of acknowledging the truth? We still have time - Voldemort’s not ready to move, and his copy has to run around in Draco Malfoy’s body. He’ll be weaker, at least for a while - and the two of them hate each other. If we act now, before they get organised-” Holly began.

“I - I can’t... he can’t be...” Fudge started, but then he stopped. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He clutched at his chest, his eyes wide. Dumbledore looked alarmed, and he was already turning to call for Pomfrey before Fudge collapsed to the floor.

The Hitwizards drew their wands, casting interlocking shielding charms Holly had only vaguely heard of, sending pulses of light around the room to reveal hidden assassins and one, with a white armband with a red ‘M’ in the centre around his arm, crouched over the Minister.

Madam Pomfrey rushed over, and the two of them tried everything. Spells to heal damage to the body spells to keep someone breathing. Potions to unblock the arteries, and to repair the heart. Holly watched them with wide eyes, and she breathed a sigh of relief as a breathing Minister was lifted into a bed. Dumbledore and the head of the Minister’s bodyguards were talking into a fire on the other side of the Hosptial Wing.

“That was close, Poppy. If he hadn’t been here or on St Mungo’s wards...” the hitwizard with the armband said.

“He’ll have damage - permanent damage. Magic can do so little for the brain...”

“Will he be able to continue as Minister?” the Hitwizard asked quietly.

“Continue as Minister? Karl, you know that might well kill him! He barely survived the stress of this, let alone a-”

“There might not be war, Poppy,”

“Oh, you know full well there will be, Karl. And... there’s nothing any healer can do for his brain. He’d have to have drunk liquid luck to have escaped without damage there,” Madam Pomfrey said.

Holly felt cold. Voldemort was back, and the Minister for Magic was lying unconscious and brain-damaged after a heart attack. Right now, when it needed a leader the most, Magical Britain had had its government decapitated by stress, age, and simple human frailty.

Chapter 73: Year Four, Chapter Thirty Nine

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Holly woke covered in sweat and shivering, her heart beating like a jackhammer in her chest. She was in the Girl’s Droms at Hogwarts, not back in the graveyard. She could still feel the wild magic she had unleashed there at the very edge of her perception. It was fading more and more every day, but she knew it would return if she ever found herself in that graveyard again.

There was a reason witches had turned to wands and impersonal, mathematically perfect devices. A reason the only magic to tap ley lines in the modern-day was formed from quartz and a robotic symphony of runes and arithmancy. To invite such wild, untamed power into her own body, a witch would have to be insane.

Or, Holly thought bitterly, desperate enough that it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Since she knew she wasn’t getting back to sleep, Holly got out of bed and headed for an early shower. She was no longer quite so awkward about it as she once had been, but her dormmates hadn’t been the thing she was most afraid of seeing in there. It was still dark out, and that was perfect.

A quick charm to prevent the noise from escaping, and Holly collapsed into the shower. She cried as the warm water and noise ablated any other sensation. She sat on the floor, glad that the House Elves kept it so clean, and hugged her knees.

She was fine physically, now. It had only taken a few days for Madam Pomfrey to restore the damage Holly had done to her own body, but there was nothing the dependable matron could do for her mind.

Her memories hounded her even here. She saw Cedric fall, felt herself kill Barty Crouch Jr, felt herself unleash that storm. She had killed again. Dumbledore had reassured her, but she couldn’t help but notice how her body count was rising. How she’d turned loose magic that had killed without direction.

Was all this death really worth her life? Cedric had died because of her, her parents had given their lives for her... and she had killed so many people to defend herself. Voldemort, in his many incarnations, was not something that filled her with guilt... but his followers had families. People who loved them.

Competing images of Thomas Avery and the Death Eater’s victims at the world cup flashed through her mind. People had called her a hero for that. Maybe it was better than being feted for her mother’s sacrifice.

Holly screamed, angry at the world and at herself. Why, she wondered, had the world decided to screw her over so thoroughly? It wasn’t enough that her parents had died, that she’d been stuck with the Dursleys - she’d been handed a broken body she hated and had to fix at a pace so slow it seemed like torture.

She understood, intellectually, that her potions were just as effective as ordinary female puberty. Maybe she’d have been doomed to be a stick no matter what chromosomes fate had stuck her with. She’d started them way earlier than many less fortunate girls like her. She had a supportive family and enough money to fund anything she might need. Compared to some of the people she had met at Penny’s group, she was unfathomably lucky.

And it still hurt. It hurt when she kissed Ginny and was reminded what she was. It hurt when she had to adjust her clothing, always keeping in mind that she wasn’t a real girl. She pretended to be above Lavender and Parvarti’s beauty obsession, but she craved every overheard tip. A freak like her needed all the help she could get.

“Holly?” Hermione said, on the other sound of the shower door. Holly flinched at the noise. She never wanted anyone to see her like this. Never wanted anyone to know how her hands shook and why she sometimes showered in the dark.

“Go away,” she said, her voice hoarse.

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked, completely ignoring the request to leave.

“No,” Holly said, still hugging her knees.

“D-Do you want me to go get Ginny,” Hermione asked, her voice so gentle. Holly felt fear race through her. That was the last thing she wanted.

“Please don’t. I - I don’t want her to see me like this,”

“She’s worried about you, Holly. We all are,” Hermione said.

“I’ll be fine,” Holly said, between her tears. The water had slowed to a warm trickle, now, running down her hair and back.

“Holly...”

“I will. I just - I just don’t want to look at myself today, okay Hermione? So unless you’ve been studying permanent human transfiguration, there’s nothing you can do,” Holly said bitterly.

“Okay, Holly. But I’m going to wait out here, and you are going to do something more than brood in your dorm room today,” Hermione said, and Holly let a little smile escape her black mood at her mental image of Hermione crossing her arms.

True to her word, Hermione practically dragged Holly into playing wizard’s chess with Ron and all but locked her in a room with Ginny.

Holly’s bouts of dysphoria - of that intense sense of wrongness she felt towards her own body - had been coming less and less these days. She even sort of needed her bra now. They still caught her when she was down, though, and combined with the events in the Graveyard... Holly had taken a few four AM showers this past week.

The next day was their last full day at Hogwarts that year. The leaving feast lacked the usual celebratory banners and cheerful atmosphere. Only sombre black banners hung in the Great Hall, and the food tasted like ash in Holly’s mouth. The bag of gold sitting in her trunk delivered by some anonymous Ministry functionary - her winnings from the Tournament - weighed heavily on her.

Dumbledore stood, and even the desultory conversation that had sprung up died down. Nobody so much as whispered.

“The end of another year at Hogwarts. What should have been a celebration of victory and brotherhood had now become a time of mourning, for someone who should be here is not” Dumbledore said, and Holly saw how pale and red-eyed many of Hufflepuffs were. How so many had come up to her and said she’d tried her best to save him. How none of them had hated her as they should have.

“Cedric Diggory was a brave, decent boy who wanted nothing more than to help his friend. He was a hero to those of us who feel left behind or ignored and a friend to many. He exemplified the best traits of his house - loyalty, hard work, and friendship. His sense of fair play and honesty was legendary, and we are all the poorer for his death. Therefore, I think you deserve the truth of his death,” Dumbledore said, and Holly went still. So, it seemed, did everyone else in the Hall. They all knew what Dumbledore was about to say, but to hear it said like this would take it from whispered rumour to fact. When Dumbledore stood up in front of all the students of Hogwarts and said it, it would be real.

“Cedric Diggory was murdered by forces attempting to return Lord Voldemort to life. They succeeded. But, were it not for the actions of Hogwarts’ two champions, we would not have the luxury of warning we have now. Never forget that Cedric’s sacrifice may save many lives in the years to come. Never forget that without the bravery of Cedric Diggory and Holly Potter, we would have been utterly unprepared for the storm on the horizon. In these dark years that must surely come, it may prove that Cedric Diggory has already turned the tide,” Dumbledore said.

The words were of little help to Holly, but she knew they weren’t for Holly. They were for the Hufflepuffs, who sported new looks of determination. They were for all the students who could find some meaning in Cedric’s death, who could deal with the loss of their friend by seeing it as a noble sacrifice.

Holly knew the truth. Cedric had been defending her when a coward cursed him in the back. He had died to save her, and Holly almost hated him for it.

She raised a toast to him anyway, and let Ginny slip her hand into Holly’s. It was all her girlfriend could do, but it was enough.

“The Triwizard Tournament’s aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of Voldemort’s return, the ties we made this year are more important than ever. To all the guests here, I say this - these halls will serve as a refuge to you should you need it. It is only together that we will triumph - only if we set aside our divisions and unite will we emerge from this darkness,” Dumbledore said, and Holly saw many of the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons nodding along.

“Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.”

Holly boarded the Hogwarts Express with a heavy heart, but that last journey back to the world outside Hogwarts proved to be filled with laughter. She, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione passed the time by losing to Hermione at Blackjack, eating sweets, and telling all the stories they’d accumulated this year.

“Care for some sweets, dears?” asked Fred from the door, doing a surprisingly good impression of the trolley lady.

“Not from you, they’ll turn me into a nervous newt,” Ron said.

“Nervous newt? That’s a good one, Ron. Can we do a Nervous Newt Nougat, Fred?” George asked.

“Nah, too complex. Maybe we could do a Nervous Newts Student Nougat, though...” Fred replied, and they all laughed. Holly looked at her trunk and remembered the bag of gold inside. She didn’t want it, didn’t want to spend what should have been half Cedric’s on anything. This, though, he probably would’ve approved of.

“Hey, you two. Still looking to start that shop?” Holly asked.

“Well, if our mum doesn’t keep trying to burn all our product,” Fred said.

“This money should have been half Cedric’s, but I reckon he would’ve approved. So consider your first two investors sorted,” Holly said, handing over the bag.

“Wait, Holly, that’s a thousand galleons-”

“Exactly. Take it, and give us all some laughs yeah? I get the feeling that we’ll be needing them next year,” Holly said.

“You got it, boss. Say, wanna appear in some endorsements...”

Eventually, though, the train ride had to end. Holly stepped out of the train and saw Sirius and Remus waiting for her. She rushed forward and hugged both of them tightly. Sirius seemed a little bemused, but Remus patted her back gently.

“Good to see you too, kid. Shit year, huh?” Sirius asked.

“It was pretty awful... but there were good things too. The Yule Ball, playing enough Quidditch to have a proper league... even in the Graveyard there were good things,” Holly said.

“Speaking of the Yule Ball, how’re you and the girlfriend?” Sirius asked.

“We’re, um, good? She puts up with my moping, anyway,” Holly said.

“I do believe she’s coming over, in fact,” Remus said. Holly turned around, and she saw Ginny running towards her at speed. Then she kissed Holly full on the lips, and Holly felt her heart heal just a little bit. That tiny irrational fear that Ginny was embarrassed to be with someone like her falling away at the look on Mrs Weasley’s face.

“I remember moping plenty. You better write!” Ginny said.

“I will. There was, um, something I wanted to ask you to do,” Holly said, feeling awkward. “Would you come to the support group with me? I’d like everyone there to meet you,” Holly continued.

“If only so I can see if this Penny is all she’s cracked up to be,” Ginny said, and Holly felt herself laugh a little more.

Holly walked out of the station and back towards Privet Drive with a faint smile and a heavy heart.

Notes:

Thank you all for coming along on this journey so far (how did I write 160k words in four months!?). The reception this fic has had means a lot to me, as do all the wonderful comments people have posted. Time for Year Five.

Chapter 74: Year Five, Chapter One

Chapter Text

Penny Harper looked forward to her friend Holly’s return every year. The younger, black-haired girl was certainly an odd one, but her fearlessness was an inspiration to more than Penny. She only spent two months of the year in Little Whinging - a feat Penny greatly envied her for. She herself was counting down the days she could leave the place behind and never come back.

Not that she didn’t have friends here, but she had none who were planning to stay in this maze of identical houses full of identical managers and shop owners who all seemed to have come off an assembly line somewhere. Well-off, but not well-off enough to fit in at the places they really wanted to be. To well-off to blend into the working-class backgrounds more than a few had come from - so they congregated together, talking about how immigrants were going to take their jobs and the homosexuals were going to corrupt their children.

At least her mother had stopped trying to get her to find a boyfriend. She’d even managed to get away with wearing her leather jackets and ripped up jeans around the house, rather than the sort of nondescript, modest clothing she’d worn to evade her mother’s rants. Not that her dear old mother accepted her, but her father was away too often to do anything about it and her mother didn’t really have the guts to stand up to Penny seriously.

She had a job, now. It was just a few hours a week waitressing at the restaurant the support group met at, but the owner liked her and was happy for the help. The money wasn’t a lot, but she saved most of it.

Penny had, to the surprise of all her friends, managed to keep a girlfriend for more than a few months. She’d been known for her trainwreck romances, but what she had with Jane Thomas... it felt special to her, in a way that none of the others had.

“Hey, Penny. Everything ready?” Jane asked.

“Yeah, got all the chairs and shit moved. You said Holly’s back?” Penny asked.

“She should be... but, look, she might not be in the best spirits. My brother said a friend of hers died, um, she might have mentioned him to you in a letter - Cedric?”

“That’s awful. He’s the one she asked to the dance, right? She had such a big crush on him,” Penn said.

“Yeah. Mind you, from what my brother tells me she and her girlfriend are surprisingly serious,” Jane said, and Penny made a face. “Oi you slag, I’m right here! No lusting after taken girls while your girlfriend is talking to you,”

“You know you can’t resist me,” Penny said, sticking her pierced tongue out at Jane. It was a new thing for her, but she loved it. Her girlfriend had the decency to look rather embarrassed. Before Jane could think of a comeback, the door to the restaurant opened. Holly Potter, looking older and more world-weary, walked through it - leading a nervous red-headed girl in a sundress by the hand.

It might have been the cutest thing Penny had ever seen.

“Holly! And you must be the girlfriend we’ve heard so much about,” Penny said, as she rushed over. Holly smiled at her, and so did the girl.

“Hi, Penny right? I’m Ginny Weasley,” Ginny said.

“Yep, that’s me. That’s Jane Thomas over there, my girlfriend. I’ve been wanting to meet you ever since Holly started talking about you in her letters,” Penny said.

“Hey, Jane. How’s Dean doing?” Ginny asked. The two of them peeled off a little, and Penny turned towards Holly.

“I - Jane told me about Cedric. I’m so sorry, Holly,” Penny said, hugging the younger girl.

“Thanks, Penny,” Holly said, with one of her sad little smiles. Penny knew her friend often censored her stories, and she could tell there were scars on her soul she’d never let anyone see. The way her hands sometimes shook, the haunted look in her eyes... they reminded Penny of her father.

Holly was very quiet that meeting and Ginny seemed hesitant to start talking - but when she did, she didn’t stop. Eventually, she managed to drag her girlfriend out of the shell she seemed to have retreated into for a little while.

“Don’t hide in your room all summer, Holly,” Penny said, and Holly shook her head sadly.

“I’ll try,” she said, and that would have to be good enough.

Holly looked up at the slowly fading paint of her bedroom ceiling. The Dursleys had stopped caring about how her room looked as soon as they’d given it to her, and that suited Holly fine. Despite spending less time there, her room at Grimmauld Place was far more of a home to her than this one. All her little knick-knacks and old books, all the things she’d managed to keep after she’d been able to stop living out of her trunk, were in that room.

She had put up a few posters of girls in swimsuits on the walls, both because they were good looking and she found the Dursley’s reactions to them hilarious.

The problem was that she was restless. There was simply very little to do at Privet Drive - she had already read all her books, done all her homework, and answered every letter she’d been sent. She had the Daily Prophet delivered every day, but the news there was anything but good. Several foreign dark wizards had been arrested trying to enter the country, and one of them had actually gone down fighting over the Channel. Everyone was on high alert, and neither of the two candidates for Minister denied that Voldemort was back.

They just disagreed on how to stop him. Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had advocated for a strong response - arrests of known “imperiused” Death Eaters, emergency war powers to be granted to the Hitwizards and Auror Office, and more. So did her opponent (and head of the Auror Office) Rufus Scrimgeour, for that matter. Where they differed was how they wanted to handle the new international element.

Bones wanted to call on the ICW for help to deal with what was clearly an international problem, whereas Scimgeour seemed to want to fan xenophobic sentiment to increase his chances in the election. He seemed to have picked a winning strategy, which made Holly want to blow something up magic. As that would get her expelled, she was instead reduced to moodily staring at faded paint on her ceiling.

Her friends were all already at the Headquarters of Dumbledore’s new anti-Voldemort organisation, the Order of the Phoneix, which was never named in letters (mostly because, being behind a new fidelius charm, it couldn’t be). Holly, of course, was well aware that it was Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore kept her updated via Dobby, who would pop back to Hogwarts every few days to get a new letter for her. Owl post was too easy to intercept, apparently.

She did have some fun during those long, slow summer days - hanging out with Penny and her friends was always entertaining. She couldn’t go far from Privet Drive, though, and she knew she had invisible minders whenever she left the wardline. Whoever they had on the Thursday morning shift was rather clumsy.

Holly’s heard something small hit her window. Confused, she stood and temporarily abandoned her teenage ennui to investigate. She peered out into the night, and saw Penny and Jane hiding behind the Dursley’s hedges, with small bits of gravel in their hands. Holly opened her window and grinned.

Making sure she had her wand on her, she opened her window and climbed silently down. After all her adventures and sneaking around, Holly was both very good at climbing and at not making noise when she moved. She was especially proud of her almost stealthy landing, and she was sure the Dursleys hadn’t noticed her escape as she joined her friends.

“Hey, Holly. We’re gonna go to the park - some kids who aren’t total assholes about, well you know, are having a party. Want to come along?” Penny asked.

“Sure. I was in for a very interesting evening of watching paint dry otherwise,” Holly said. That was only a partial truth. She’d have spent the latter portion of the evening tossing and turning, dreaming of the Graveyard again. Dreaming of Cedric’s ice-cold corpse, and of killing Barty Crouch Junior.

The party mostly turned out to be a bunch of misfits hanging out in the park and drinking, with music being played out of tinny speakers, but Holly didn’t mind. She was glad just to get out of Privet Drive, and the alcohol dulled the pain that was always hiding behind her boredom. The beer they were mostly drinking was only about twice as alcoholic as Butterbeer, anyway.

She was treated like a local legend - everyone always wanting to know if she was really trans, if she really could make Dudley Dursley flinch with just a word. Somehow, she’d become almost a folk hero to the misfits and outcasts of Little Whinging, most of whom had been victimised by Dudley Dursley at some point.

“Shit, run!” someone shouted, and Holly whipped around, her hand unconsciously reaching for her wand. It stilled when she realised the torches and shadowed figures advancing towards them were muggle police officers looking to crack down on teenage delinquents, not dark wizards.

She took off anyway, running with Penny and Jane as the party broke up in record speed. Holly was in much better shape than either of her two friends, and she had to moderate her pace to let them keep up. The dark clouds overhead let loose their long-awaited rain, and Holly laughed as they found themselves taking shelter under a bridge. A creek ran through here, but only through a thin concrete channel. Jane and Penny were panting and out of breath.

“How - pant - how much exercise do you do!?” Penny asked. Holly flexed her upper arm muscles... which were not exactly impressively large, though they had become more defined last year.

“Well well, look who we have here... the faggot and the dykes, a classic combo,” Peris Polkiss said. Dudley and his gang had apparently decided to take shelter under the same bridge, emerging out of the shadows in a cloud of cigarette smoke.

“Fuck off, Polkiss. I’m not in the mood to mock Diddiekins today,” Holly said, tiredly. She knew Dobby was invisible nearby, as well as her monitor from the Order. She also knew that, by this point, Dudley was afraid enough of what might happen that she could run a pretty good bluff.

“Yeah. Don’t you have any ten-year-olds to go beat up?” Penny said, tiredly.

“Hey! He was a... a...” Piers said, but he seemed unable to continue. An unnatural chill had seeped into the air, and Holly felt the tinge of despair touch her. Her blood went cold because she knew that sensation. She knew that she had to act fast, or she’d be incapacitated and her friends would be left defenceless.

“Expecto Patronum!” Holly shouted, drawing her wand from her charmed-unnoticeable holster. A brilliant silver doe burst forth from her wand not a moment too soon because what was unmistakably a Dementor flew down towards them out of the rain and darkness. Holly’s doe Patronus trampled it underfoot and sent it running, and everyone under the bridge stared at her, wide-eyed.

“What the fuck,” Penny said, a sentiment everyone else seemed to echo.

“I promise I’ll explain later but I just need you to trust me that we’re in real danger and do what I say,” Holly said, trying to see if there were any more Dementors out there in the rain.

“Listen to hi -Potter, guys,” Dudley said, hands in his pockets.

“You knew about this Big D?” one of his gang asked, but Holly held up her hand for silence and tried to go out a little from the cover of the bridge. It was only some unnatural sense of warning, almost like she could see the spells flashing towards her before they were cast, that saved her. She cast as quick a nonverbal shield charm as she could, and several curses splattered against in gouts of fire and flashes of light.

She wanted to fight back, but the magic on the anti-darkness glasses from the tournament had long since faded and she couldn’t make out where her attackers were. She retreated back into the cover of the bridge and swore. They were waiting for her out there, and she could only maintain her Patronus for so long.

Chapter 75: Year Five, Chapter Two

Chapter Text

“What the fuck is going on, Holly!?” Penny asked as Holly retreated back into the shelter of the bridge. Her Patronus, the glowing silver doe, stood guard.

“Short explanation? I’m a witch, there are evil wizards out there trying to kill me. Stay by the silver doe and you’ll be safe from their soul-sucking monster pets,” Holly said, looking around to see if everyone who had been here at the start was okay.

Two figures seemed to appear from nowhere close by, then - their disillusionment charms fading. One was the tiny House Elf Dobby, who Holly had saved from abuse and enslavement. He worked for Hogwarts now and was often assigned to watch over Holly at the Dursley’s. The other was a young woman in a long brown coat with spiky violet hair. Something about her seemed familiar to Holly, though she could place her.

Still, Holly had her wand pointed at the woman before she could even finish dismissing her disillusionment charm. She knew Dobby could be trusted, but she hadn’t been able to keep complete track of her Order minder...

“Wotcher, Holly, it’s - I’m with Dumbledore. Auror Nymphadora Tonks, but if you ever call me anything but Tonks...” Tonks said, and Holly lowered her wand. Now she could place the face, if not the hair - she’d been Mad-Eye’s trainee during Holly’s third year at Hogwarts.

“Right. Uh, you wouldn’t happen to have some way to get into contact with him, would you?” Holly asked.

“Sent a Patronus to Headquarters, but that’ll take half an hour at least. I’d say apparate out, but they have an anti-apparition jinx up,” Tonks said, shaking her head. Penny, Jane, Dudley and Dudley’s friends were watching the conversation with wide eyes.

“Ex-excuse me, Miss Tonks and Miss Holly, but Dobby could be apparating away. Wizard jinxes cannot be stopping elf magic,” Dobby said proudly, and Holly smiled as she remembered - House Elves were one of the few types of beings able to operate at Hogwarts.

“Can you go warn Dumbledore and then apparate everyone else out, or...?” Holly asked.

“Dobby is being sorry, Miss, but elf magic is sized for Elves. We can bring people along, but it is very tiring to do so. Dobby is - is only capable of taking seven of you away...” Dobby said, tears in his eyes.

“Fuck. Dobby, listen to me - I want you to take everyone but me and Tonks to the Dursley’s house, and then go warn Dumbledore,” Holly said, kneeling down in front of him so their eyes were level.

“Holly -” Tonks began, but Holly interrupted her.

“Nobody else dies for me. Not after Cedric,” Holly said, and she felt a wave of anger rising within her. She’d been so stupid to leave the wardline at night - all because she’d been bored? If someone was going to suffer for it, at least it shouldn’t be her friends... or even her cousin, who was a complete ass but didn’t deserve to die. She and Tonks could at least attempt to fight their way out or hold on for reinforcements.

“Alright, alright. I hope you have more of a plan than waiting for them to get bored, though,” Tonks said.

“Alright, everyone - just hold onto Dobby and he’ll take you to Number 4 Privet Drive. Stay there until Tonks or I come and get you, alright? And, Dudley, you better make your parents behave,” Holly said. It took some time to get everyone touching Dobby, and most of Dudley’s friends seemed to be in some kind of shock - not really processing what had happened yet.

They disappeared with a crack, leaving Holly and Tonks alone under the bridge. The rain was still pelting down outside, and the only light came from Holly’s doe Patronus. Tonk’s hair had changed from spiky violet to a tied up dark green, and Holly raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t known Tonks was a Metamorphmagus.

“Hey, Tonks... do the underage magic office know which spells I cast? I’m sure they already have a bunch of angry letters on the way, but...” Holly asked.

“Yeah, the Trace will report what spell was sued. Why?” Tonks responded.

“Because I think I have an idea how we can call on some more help,” Holly said and pointed her wand at a bare section of the wall. She cast a stunning spell, then an obliviation spell, then a stunning spell. The flashes of red and grey light splashed harmlessly against the wall, and Holly repeated the sequence three more times.

“That’s... a pretty good idea, actually. Got any other cunning plans in that cute little head of yours?” Tonks asked. And Holly blushed a little. Tonks was a very good looking and very cool lady.

“I’m all out. I guess we just wait until they get bored of waiting or -” Holly began, but the sound of spellfire cut her off. Tonks looked at her, and Holly grinned. “Seems like help has arrived. Let’s say we go join in, yeah?” Holly said, and she got ready to rush out into the fight.

“Merlin, but you are a menace, kid,” Tonks said, shaking her head but following Holly anyway. With the rain still pouring down, all Holly could see was the flashes of spellfire - and with whoever had ambushed her distracted, she cast a disillusionment charm on herself and entered the fray.

Illuminated by the spells smashing against his shield charm, Holly whipped lightning at a man in ragged leathers. With his shield charm already weakened, he was blasted backwards by the sheer force of the curse and collapsed limply on the ground from the pain. She stunned him and then dove for cover as spells flew towards her.

The long, concrete creek turned not far past the bridge, and so the attackers had been holding that bend against whoever had come to Holly’s rescue, but now she and Tonks were in amongst them. What had been a battle defined by long distances and darkness was now fought at nearly point-blank range - something Holly had gotten very, very good at in her past year of schooling.

Holly casually slipped into the minds of her opponents, rarely having to shield herself as she blasted apart shield charms and stunned anyone she could. A few were revived, but Holly knew that all she had to do was cause enough of a distraction to allow her rescuers to win their fight. There were constant cracks of apparition in the distance, and one group of attackers - who all seemed to dress much the same in ragged dark leathers and small bits of enchanted metal armour - were subject to dozens of stunning spells and blasting hexes fired by wizards zooming overhead on brooms.

Tonks was only a little behind Holly, making sure to restrain anyone she stunned with conjured ropes and watching her back. The Auror was an incredible duellist, her casting quick and precise - just like her mentor, Mad-Eye Moody. Holly use of the little water that flowed through the small concrete channel to defend herself from dark curses, remembering Dumbledore’s lessons.

Then there was a flash of bright orange-white fire in the distance, and Holly cheered. She knew what that phoenix fire meant, and so did her attackers. She could only see Dumbledore vaguely through the darkness and the rain, but the attackers fell before him like wheat before a scythe. He called on the concrete of the creek’s banks to restrain them, the rain to defend himself and cast a dozen spells Holly had barely even heard of.

Finally, the anti-apparition jinx failed and the few conscious attackers retreated, leaving behind a thoroughly destroyed bit of muggle infrastructure. It looked like news reports from a war, Holly thought - the concrete was littered with craters and small fires burnt wherever they were protected from the rain. More than a dozen men lay wounded or unconscious, and Holly was sure a few had been killed.

The dementor that had started the whole thing was nowhere to be seen - though it had probably fled the phoenix fire, or perhaps the several corporeal Patronuses Holly could see with whoever had arrived to rescue her.

“It seems you’ve had an exciting night, Holly,” Dumbledore said, as he strode out of the rain and darkness towards her. His wand, so oddly constructed and lined with unfamiliar runes, glowed slightly still.

“I know leaving the wardline at night was stupid, Professor, so we can just skip to the part where you tell me how much trouble I’m in,” Holly said.

“Ah, teenage angst. Leaving your Aunt’s house at night to go to a party was a rather unwise choice, but you are at that sort of age. In any event, you and your friends are safe - as are those who came to your rescue. Let us continue this conversation out of the rain, perhaps,” Dumbledore said as he held out a hand to Holly and to Tonks.

They both grabbed a hand, and then with the distinctive crack and crushing sensation of apparition, they were in the living room of Number Four, Privet Drive. Penny and Jane were sitting next to one another on the couch, while Aunt Petunia gave them a nasty look. Dudley’s friends were slumped around the kitchen table, and Dudely and Uncle Vernon seemed to be having some kind of quiet discussion.

Everyone turned to look as they arrived. Dumbledore merely looked towards Penny and Jane. Holly shook her head. Then, Dumbledore cast some kind of nonverbal spell, and Dudely’s friends gained a glazed look in their eyes.

“My apologies for the intrusion, Petunia. Mr Dursley, your friends should have no memory of these events come morning, instead recalling an enjoyable evening partaking in... recreational activities,” Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eyes. Holly had to try very hard not to laugh.

“Wh -what?” Dudley said.

“That is, your original plans for the evening. Perhaps it would be best if you helped them home as the danger has now passed,” Dumbledore said.

“Yes, Dudders, why doesn’t Daddy drive them home with you,” Petunia said, her voice high and tense. Vernon looked at his wife and seemed to be about to argue, then he looked at Dumbledore and Tonks again. He picked up his keys and helped Dudely’s friends to his car.

“Most helpful, Petunia. As to Miss Thomas and her companion, you two should also be able to return home without peril. I am sure if you return tomorrow during daylight hours, Miss Potter will be able to better explain tonight’s events. I am certain you can inform Miss Harper of the necessity for secrecy, Miss Thomas,” Dumbledore said, and Jane nodded. She led a very shocked looking Penny out of the house.

“You said we would be safe when you saddled us with that... with that degenerate! I want him gone if he’s going to bring this sort of danger to my family!” Petunia shouted.

“And you are safe. No dark wizard has menaced your home, nor has your son been harmed. In fact, it was the girl you so disparage that ensured his safety - above her own, I might add. In any event, Holly will be leaving on her birthday - a scare week from now. Surely you can endure the niece who saved your son’s life for another week,” Dumbledore said, and Holly’s Aunt flushed and looked away.

“I... thank you, Holly,” Petunia said, through gritted teeth. Dumbledore smiled as if he was unaware of how forced Petunia’s apology was.

“Well, now that has been taken care of... Tonks, if you would inform Mrs Dursley of the security arrangements to ease her mind?” Dumbledore said, and Tonks led Petunia away from the living room.

“I was such an idiot. Putting everyone in danger because I was bored...” Holly said, and now that the adrenaline had begun to fade all she could feel was a sort of numb regret.

“Indeed. Tonight was a serious lapse in judgement, Holly. If things had gone only a little differently, your friends could have been seriously hurt or even killed. If the men who had attacked you had been Death Eaters instead of simply hired thugs, you may even have been delivered to Lord Voldemort. I must ask you to promise me that you will not leave the wardline again without a prearranged escort,” Dumbledore said, and Holly nodded.

“I promise,” she said and stared down at her feet. How had she been so stupid, she wondered? She just hadn’t given the danger any thought at all.

“Good. Now, I think it is best if you went to bed - the Ministry will be around in the morning to take a statement from you,” Dumbledore said, and he disappeared with a crack. Holly walked up the stairs and collapsed into her bed, not even bothering to get changed.

She had nearly gotten Penny and Jane killed to go to a party she’d hadn’t even enjoyed that much. She had been a total idiot, she knew, and she cried herself to sleep thinking about what could have happened.

Chapter 76: Year Five, Chapter Three

Chapter Text

“And that’s when you returned here?” the Auror asked Holly, as his partner took notes. They’d been talking to Holly for nearly an hour at this point.

“Dumbledore took me with side-along apparition, but yes,” Holly explained.

“Well, I don’t think we’ll have any more questions at this time, Miss Potter. Our financial division has linked payments in the muggle world to the men who attacked you from an account formerly belonging to the Malfoy family... the wizards themselves were Greeks - wands for hire from the Continent,” the Auror said.

“That SOS trick with the trace was some quick thinking, kid. Bones had us sort you an exemption from the statute, though, for the duration of the Emergency. Maybe we’ll see you in the Auror office after Hogwarts, huh?” the other Auror asked.

“Maybe,” Holly said, as the two Aurors walked out of Number Four Privet Drive and disappeared with a sharp crack. Waiting a few moments to make sure they were gone, Holly waved Penny and Jane over from across the road.

“Jesus, I thought they were never going to leave,” Penny said.

“Were those Aurors?” Jane asked.

“Yeah, they wanted to get a statement or something. I left you two out of it,” Holly said, as she saw her Aunt purse her lips as Holly’s friends entered the house. They walked up the stairs, and all three of them crowded into Holly’s small bedroom.

“What’s an ‘auror’ - wizard cops?” Penny asked.

“Think Scotland Yard crossed with commandos, basically. There are normal wizard police officers, the hitwizards, and - well, it’s kind of complicated, but the Aurors are serious business,” Holly said.

“And they want to wipe my memory of last night?” Penny asked.

“Well, that’s probably a little beneath them, to be honest. So long as you don’t go to the evening news or anything, you should be fine. Actually, how did you manage not to get memory-charmed, Jane?” Holly asked.

“I live with Dean’s family. Apparently, that counts,” Jane explained.

“Huh. I imagine you’ve got questions, Penny,” Holly said, sitting down on her bed.

“You know, a few. So all the stuff you said at the meetings...”

“Lightly edited, but the truth,” Holly said.

“Did you really save Jane’s life once?” Penny asked.

“I - I did,” Holly said, and Penny seemed to pick up on her discomfort immediately. They spent the rest of the morning talking about less consequential topics, playing card games and simply hanging out. Holly had never done anything like it at Privet Drive, but it helped her mood immensely.

“Penny... things are looking bad out there. If you can... I’d get out of the country before too long,” Holly said, as her friend got up to go. Penny’s eyes went wide, but she nodded slowly.

“We’ll see what we can do,” Jane said.

The Daily Prophet arrived not long after, and Holly read the front page article all about the attack on her with a feeling of dread.

Potter Attacked by Foreign Thugs!

Dear Readers, this reporter must relay to you a most alarming piece of news - our own Holly Potter was attacked by more than a dozen dark wizards last night. Luckily, she was able to fight back and signal for help - and all of the assailants were apprehended thanks to the bravery of our Aurors and Hitwizards.

Interrogation under veritaserum revealed the men to be wands-for-hire from the tumultuous state of Greece, still in chaos after the brutal uprising of Dark Wizards that occurred there seven years ago. One must wonder at the competence of the ICW’s so-called “Peacekeepers” if bands of marauders can slip past several borders to menace the good wizarding citizens of this isle.

Both candidates for the position of Minister for Magic gave statements to the media on the attack, and this reporter cannot help but note that Madam Bones gives no reference whatsoever as to the foreign nature of these dark subversives. Rufus Scrimgeour, on the other hand, condemned the French officials who provided portkeys to the assailants in exchange for bribes and the ICW’s failed peacekeeping efforts in the region.

For more on the heated election, see pages three, four, and twenty-two.

- Rita Skeeter

Holly flipped to the sports section and found no solace there. Her beloved Holyhead Harpies had lost 120-270 to Puddlemere United. She ended up just balling the paper up and chucking it into the bin. She wanted to help Bones out with the election, but she really did not want to go up against Skeeter without being prepared. Holly had barely managed to hold on when Skeeter had been actively looking to make Holly look good.

She spent much of the next week feeling sorry for herself - barely emerging from her room, and answering her friend’s letters only tersely. Life at Privet Drive had seemed to be approaching bearable for a few years, but now that Holly was unable to leave the wardline, she was once again practically a prisoner in her Aunt and Uncle’s house.

Unlike the summer before her second year at Hogwarts, this imprisonment was self-imposed. She knew how lucky she had been that none of her friends had been hurt during the attack, and that Dark Wizards had no real need to wait for nighttime to launch another attempt. She had no idea why the Locket-Voldemort would pay some group of wands-for-hire to attack her - surely he had to have known that it was very unlikely to have succeeded - but she knew he had the vast majority of the Malfoy family fortune.

A second attack would be literal pocket change to him, and Holly didn’t plan to risk it. She did send Penny a letter for the meeting and was touched when her friend came to Number Four Privet Drive again to say goodbye on the day before Holly’s birthday.

Holly had marked the days until her birthday in red ink on her calendar, and she had trouble falling asleep the night before. It was an alien experience to her - for so long her birthday had merely been a day like any other, and now she had not only all the expectations of any happy child towards it - presents, her friends, and such - but it also marked her return to her Godfather and the Wizarding World.

She woke at the sound of someone walking up the stairs and drew her wand from its hiding palace. She didn’t bother getting changed out of her very comfortable oversized Harpies shirt and muggle shorts, instead of advancing slowly towards the door to her room. Her heart was beating fast, but her hand was still as she felt herself sink back into the place she went whenever there was danger.

All her old, gnawing worries melted away - all her guilt washed away like sandcastles at high tide. There was only the moment, and Holly relished in it as she opened her bedroom door with a wave of her hand. She lunged forward, a stunning spell flying from her wand. The beam of magic briefly illuminated the hallway in crimson light, and Holly felt like an idiot when she saw Sirius deflect her spell.

“Merlin, Sirius. It’s four in the bloody morning,” Holly said, lowering her wand slightly.

“Hmph. I told you she was more on the ball than that, Black. Get ready to move, Potter,” Mad-Eye Moody said from behind Sirius, but Holly paid him no mind for a moment as she gave Sirius a hug.

“Good to see you too, kid. Given what happened last week, we’re being a bit more secure about moving you around this year. Go get changed and meet us outside with your broom, yeah?” Sirius asked, and Holly nodded. She could see a half dozen members of the Order of the Phoenix crowding around the staircase and hallway - in addition to Sirius and Mad-Eye, Holly recognised Tonks (with a neon-blue mohawk today). There were three more Holly didn't know - a tall, dark-skinned man wearing an Auror’s coat, a short woman in flying leathers, and a muscular man wearing traditional robes.

“I’ll just... go get changed, then,” Holly said awkwardly, and she threw on the only clothes she’d left out of her trunk - she’d already packed all of her things last night. She shrugged on her Basilisk-skin coat too - if she needed an escort, it was probably best for her to be protected at least a little from spellfire. She let Hedwig out, shrunk and lightened her trunk, and grabbed her firebolt before she headed downstairs and out on the Dursley’s carefully maintained front lawn.

“Alright, Potter - just stay in formation with us, and the advance and rear guards should keep us clear of any trouble. Things get hairy, stay with Black and fly at rooftop level,” Moody said, and Holly felt like she might be dreaming as she heard him say ‘advance and rear guards'.

“Disillusionment charms, everybody!” the dark-skinned man called out, and Holly went for her wand only for Sirius to gently stop her and cast the charm on her instead.

“You might be exempt from punishment, but the trace is still on your wand, Holly,” Sirius explained.

The flight over London was uneventful, but flying at night at near rooftop level was just the thing Holly had needed to break her out of her week-long haze. She relished pushing her broom to its limits, using the instinctual magic of her Animagus form to give her and the Order members favourable winds.

Holly smiled as she saw the sunrise just before they came into land outside of Grimmauld Place, and she hovered for a moment to watch as the first rays of orange light slipped above the London skyline.

Then she landed gracefully right outside the faded townhouse she called home, these days. The disillusionment charms faded, and Holly saw most of the Order members follow her inside. She’d heard that the Weasleys were already here, and if she’d had to get out of bed at three in the morning to fly her around, she’d want some of Mrs Weasley’s breakfast food too.

“Happy Birthday, Holly, by the way,” Sirius said as they walked into Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. She smiled as she saw the familiar hallways - now in a much better state of repair than when she’d first seen it. The wallpaper was no longer peeling and faded, and the last vestiges of dust and grime had been thoroughly done away with.

“Mum, Holly’s here!” Ginny shouted out from the kitchen table, still in her pyjamas, and then she ran towards Holly and hugged her. Holly kissed her in return, and as they parted she blushed as she realised Mrs Weasley had been standing right there.

“Happy birthday,” Ginny said, and Holly smiled. Ron and Hermione were down first, and then the twins - everyone piled into the huge dining room rather than the kitchen because there were just so many people for breakfast. Mrs Wealsey whipped up an excellent meal anyway, full of crispy bacon, perfectly scrambled eggs, and more.

“How was the flight - Mad-Eye try to take you via the Channel islands?” Remus asked her, and Holly made sure to finish the bit of bacon she had in her mouth before answering.

“It was fun, honestly. Never flown quite that low over London before,” Holly said.

“Quidditch players...” the dark-skinned man from her escort - who Holly had learnt was called Kingsley Shacklebolt - muttered to a general round of raucous laughter.

“Oh, dear, Ginny and Hermione are in your room - I hope you don’t mind?” Mrs Wealsey asked as breakfast started to break up.

“Oh, no - that’s fine, Mrs Weasley,” Holly said.

“We’re having your party at dinnertime, so everyone can be here, but happy birthday anyway dear,” Mrs Weasley said, and then she gave Holly a hug.

Ascending the stairs to her room with Ron, Ginny, and Hermione, Holly grinned as she saw the extra mattresses on the floor and her untouched bed.

“Seriously, one of you could have taken the bed,” Holly said. Ron laughed, but Ginny and Hermione shared an odd look.

“You really need to clean your room better, Holly. And hide your firewhiskey someplace less obvious,” Ginny said, and they all burst out laughing.

Chapter 77: Year Five, Chapter Four

Chapter Text

Holly’s fifteenth birthday party was much smaller than her last one had been. Grimmauld Place was under a Fidielius charm and acting as the Order’s headquarters, so most of her friends couldn’t attend. Still, Mrs Weasley had made a huge spread of all of her favourite foods, and Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all there - so Holly was happy. Penny and Jane had apparently mailed Sirius a present for Holly, and she was gladder than ever that they’d escaped from the ambush unscathed.

She was given an ample supply of minor magical trinkets, books, clothes, and honeydukes chocolates. She was touched by the makeup Penny and Jane had sent her, though she knew they’d gone to other members of the support group for specifics as neither of them was very interested in it. Most of all, she was glad to spend time out of the stifling boredom of her bedroom in Privet Drive.

Holly even laughed when the twins inevitably gave her a prank gift first - the innocuous-looking package turning her hair a bright Weasley red. She knew, of course, that all her grief and worries would be waiting for her after the lighter had died down and the lights were out... but for a few hours, she could ignore them.

She lost at cards to Hermione, chess to Ron, and managed to only cry a little. The party broke up by two, and Holly joined her friends in her room. She loved her room here - the fact that it was hers, more than anything - but also the huge window, the posters of bands and girls in swimsuits, space for all her little volumes and long novels.

“This is three times the size of my room at the Burrow, Holly,” Ron said as he stepped inside.

“Thanks, I took it from a dead dark wizard,” Holly said, the both of them l