– CHAPTER SIXTEEN –
Ripples in Time (and the Hot Tub)
Harry sat in the hot-tub, feeling the water swirl around his body, massaging his stiff muscles. Meanwhile, Ginny, having swallowed a large quantity of Gillyweed, was currently under the water, firmly gripping Harry's knees while massaging another stiff muscle. Hermione, not to be outdone, was also sat in the hot-tub, but it appeared as though she was enjoying Harry's tender ministrations.
"S-so, H-h-harry, what h-happens now?"
"Well, I think in just a few sec-" Harry was interrupted by Hermione grabbing hold of his arm as her orgasm tore through her, almost concussing herself as her head slammed backwards on the side of the tub.
"As I was saying, in a few seconds, you'll cum. It's very rude to interrupt." Hermione's smile looked like it would take surgery to remove, but she kept her hand pressed against his, rubbing it against her centre slowly.
Suddenly, Ginny, who knew it was impolite to talk with her mouth full, started humming that Celestina Warbeck classic, 'No Woman, No Splat', and Harry suddenly was twitching like he was being electrified, before finding his release, and Ginny shot out of the water, a huge grin on her face, singing:
"Weasley is our Queen,
Weasley is our Queen,
Harry's torpedo's nice and clean,
Because Weasley is our Queen!"
Harry looked at Hermione, and shrugged. "Nothing to do with me; I don't play Quidditch normally."
Hermione lightly cuffed him on the back of his head, and then snuggled in to his side, Ginny doing the same thing on his other side. "Harry, tell me something."
"Sure; Dog spit is cleaner than human."
"Not that, you prat."
"Erm... Don't eat yellow snow?"
"That's pretty basic." Hermione wrinkled her nose cutely. "No, I want to know about... well..."
"What is it? There're three of us, naked, in a hot tub. Two of us have orgasmed in the last 3 minutes, and all three of us have in the last half hour. This really isn't the time to get shy."
"Tell me about the Potters. Tell me why you had to leave."
"Are you sure? It's not the best of stories."
"Harry, we both really care about you. We want to know you, not the Hunter."
"Well, okay. Firstly, a bit of background; as part of my Occlumency training, you have to organise your thoughts, and they way you remember things. I have a photographic memory, and can recall things in nearly perfect clarity. You mind records everything, dreams, memories, visions, it's all in your head, waiting to come out. With advanced Occlumency, you can remember them. Hell, I even remember that Halloween:
Voldemort blasted his way in to the house, the solid oak door being smashed in to kindling. The house, protected under the ancient magic of the Fidelius charm, had been betrayed, the Secret Keeper, Peter Pettigrew, revealing the secret as soon as the charm was cast. Now, it was time to destroy the wretches who could threaten his reign.
His spy, Severus Snape, had managed to secure the first part of a prophecy concerning him, and he was planning on culling all possible children the prophecy could imply, starting with the Potter brats. Starting with a fake firecall by Pettigrew to his old 'friend', Sirius Black, Voldemort had managed to get the house empty; James and Lily Potter had gone through the fireplace to Sirius' house, and now couldn't get back through the floo; it would take several minutes for them to be able to apparate back to their property, and that was several minutes more than he needed.
Climbing the stairs, he saw a plaque on the door at the top of the stairs, with 'Handy-Andy!' and 'Harry-Carry!' written on it. The nursery.
Kicking the door down, Voldemort saw two babies in romper suits, one in brown, one in green, matching their eyes. Recognising the brown-eyed baby as being more similar to James, the Pureblood, and more likely to be the greater threat, he pointed his wand at the child.
The baby screamed and screamed, a high-pitched keening wail that signified pure agony. Voldemort shuddered. Such sweet music...
"Now, pay attention, child. This curse is important, and I shall have to teach it to you now, as you won't get a second chance. The incantation is Avada, hard V, Kedavra, emphasise the 'da'." The child was whimpering. "PAY ATTENTION!" Andrew, nerves firing randomly and his nerves sending signals that his brain had no idea how to process, fell backwards, landing firmly on his bottom, and looking at the yelling man.
A rushing sound, a flash of green, and suddenly, everything was dark.
"That doesn't really tell us much, Harry. We already know what happened."
"No, Ginny, you know what the Potters have revealed. You don't know what was going through my mind at the time."
Harry, sharing his crib with his brother, looked up and smiled when the door opened.Mama? Mama bring biscuit. A man in black robes entered the Nursery, holding a stick like Dada had. Harry clapped his hands, hoping that the man was going to become a pointy head. He loved Dada's pointy head.
Suddenly, Anda started screaming, thrashing his small body, his flailing arm hitting Harry in the stomach. Hurts.
The man started speaking, and then shouted; Harry flinched. Unca Wormy sometimes shouted, and Harry didn't like it. A green glow started glowing at the end of the stick, and Harry was scared. No hurt Anda
He toddled over, putting himself between the glow and his brother, and then suddenly, pain, unlike anything he'd ever felt, ripped through him, and he saw the green light bounce of his head and hit the man, who blew up. The wooden railed of the crib was shredded, a large chunk bouncing off of his brother's chest, leaving a massive V cut in to the flesh, and Harry knew no more.
"That's it? That's how the mighty Andrew Potter defeated V-Voldemort? He got hit in the chest?"
"Pretty much. Voldemort blew up; not sure exactly what happened, but it was spectacular. Anyway, Lily, James and Sirius turned up, Moony about a minute behind them. They saw the empty robes of Voldemort, Andrew unconscious, bleeding on the bed, and me, also unconscious, but they thought I was still asleep." Harry shrugged. "Dumbledore turns up, the doddering old fart, declares Andrew the Boy-Who-Lived, and issues an arrest warrant for Pettigrew.
"Ironically, it's Sirius who finds him, two days later in Harrow. One detonated gas-pipe later, Sirius is being questioned, his wand examined, and Pettigrew's dragging his dirty little arse to Diagon Alley, where a young boy will pick up this rat, as a pet."
Ginny snorted in disgust.
"Yeah, remind me to send your brother a nice, appropriate gift. Say, about a hundred-weight of dynamite?" Harry laughed to himself, and kissed Ginny on the temple. "Anyway, Sirius is cleared on any wrongdoings and is helping lead the search for Pettigrew, and he's away a lot. Andrew is the saviour of the Wizarding World, and James and Lily are forever at book signings, interviews, publicity events, you name it, and they're there."
"What about you?" Hermione asked in a small voice.
"I'm at home with Uncle Moony. He couldn't get a job, because he's a werewolf, and Lily and James both thought it best that he not be seen in public with them, as it might 'taint' the perception of the invincible Boy-Who-Lived."
"That's bullshit. Professor Lupin is brave, and caring, and smart, and..." Hermione trailed off as her cheeks started to turn a beautiful shade of pink.
"...and as sexy as all get out?" Ginny teased gently.
Hermione made no response, other than to increase her blush; Harry was sure he could feel the water getting warmer around her.
"Anyway, they decided that having him noticed by the public might not be the best idea, so he was my babysitter. They moved me in to what had been a large cupboard, and after all the press pictures of the room with the damaged crib, they put that in my cupboard, while Andrew got something new."
"I know. I was there, remember? Anyway, I asked Moony one night, when he was tucking me in...
"Am I bad?"
"No, of course not. You're a very good boy."
"Do I smell?"
Remus leaned over, making loud sniffles on Harry's stomach, before blowing a huge raspberry, leaving Harry shrieking with laughter.
"Nope, this old nose never lies, Harry. In fact, you sm-" Remus was cut off by the cupboard door opening, and James sticking his head inside.
"Do you mind, Remus? We've just put Andrew down, and he doesn't need this noise; he's got a press conference tomorrow."
The elder Potter left the room, the door closing hard, making Harry jump.
Remus turned away from the door to see Harry with tears leaking from his eyes. "I try be good. Why don't Mama and Dada love me?"
"Oh, Harry, they do love you. They're just... well... they're busy at the moment. People want to know about Andrew. As soon as it quietens down, they'll show you. And Uncle Padfoot loves you."
"Unca Pafoot mean. Ignores me."
Remus desperately wanted to deny that claim, but found he couldn't; ever since Andrew defeated the Dark Lord, Sirius had been enamoured with him, at the cost of virtually forgetting about Harry and, even worse, James and Lily were moving in the same direction.
"I love you, Harry. I always will."
Harry grabbed on to Remus and hugged him with every ounce of strength his young body had, desperately seeking reassurance that he was, indeed, loved.
"Love you, Unca Mooey."
Remus smiled as he brushed the hair back on Harry's forehead, making sure it didn't go near Harry's eyes in the night.
"G'night, little man."
Both Ginny and Hermione had tears in their eyes, shocked that anyone could abandon a child.
"Hey, don't worry about it. I grew up in spite of them, not because of them. They have no power over me now."
"But you shouldn't have had to go through that on your own."
"I didn't. I had Moony. God knows I needed him, and he was there. It was worse on my birthdays."
"Worse? How can it get worse?"
Harry snuck down the stairs, having picked the lock on his cupboard door (a Marauder tradition, apparently), and heard a sudden rush of laughing coming from the kitchen. As he opened the door, he saw a huge banner reading 'Happy Birthday, Andrew (4)!' floating in the middle of the room. Harry saw that the table was pull of plates, each with different breakfast foods on it; bacon, sausage, eggs, tomatoes, beans, fried bread, French toast and pancakes, along with various different juices.
Having experienced this last year, Harry wandered up to the fridge to get the milk for some cereal, when he saw a huge chocolate cake in there. The legend on it read 'Happy Birthday Andrew' and had four candles sitting on it, waiting to be lit.
Hoping against hope, Harry quickly looked through the rest of the fridge, but, to his dismay, there were no other cakes. Picking up his cereal, he made his way to the table, picking up a pile of presents to make room for his bowl.
Andrew's hand shot out, snatching the presents out of his hands and kicking him under the table, hard. "Don't touch my stuff!"
"Harry!" Lily's voice was cold, firm. "What have I told you? If it's not yours, don't touch it."
Andrew laughed and kicked him again, making Harry spill his cereal over some of the presents.
"Harry!" James' voice was angry and loud, as Andrew had started crying loudly about how 'stupid Harry always ruins it'. "Andrew doesn't damage your presents, how dare you try and destroy his." James grabbed Harry by the upper arm, dragging him out of his chair and over James' knee. After a spanking that brought tears of pain to Harry's face, his father set him on the ground, and shoved him roughly towards the kitchen door. "Get upstairs to your room. I don't want to see you for the rest of the day. Hell, I'll be happy for the rest of the week, you ungrateful little shite." Lily, in the meantime, was attacking Andrew's damp presents with a drying charm, restoring them perfectly.
Harry trudged back upstairs and climbed in to his bed, his bum stinging mightily but the pain in his heart was beyond description.
"About two weeks later, I'd managed to scrape together a bit of food, some Knuts and clean socks, and left Azka-Potter. I was barely literate at the point, so I was picking up old copies of the Daily Prophet to practice words; that's how I found out about my 'death' five weeks later."
Harry found it very difficult to say anything after that, as both Ginny and Hermione seemed desperate to hug the stuffing out of him.
"Hey, it's okay. I'm legally an adult now, they can't do anything to me, and I certainly won't let them do anything to you."
"Thank you, Harry." They replied in unison.
"Of course, once Remus found out about me missing, he went, and I quote, 'ape-shit'. He showed the encounter to me in my Pensieve."
"Really?" Hermione looked like she desperately wanted to get her hands on one of those rare devices, but sitting naked in a hot tub probably wasn't the best time to act on that. "What happened?"
"You'll love this. He..."
Remus walked in to the living room of the large cottage, seeing boxes piled everywhere; the wealth the Potter's had acquired over the last 3 years was staggering, and the family was moving to the newly built 'Potter Mansion' soon. Remus himself had just come back from a mission for Dumbledore, visiting Damocles Belby, who was working on a new potion that was alleged to stop the dementia of the werewolf transformation, and was glad to be back in Wales.
"Afternoon, James. How's everything going?"
"Complete bloody nightmare. Our agent wanted to get some pictures of Andrew in Potter Mansion, showing off all the rooms, and playing on the Quidditch pitch. I tell you, the boy will be the best Chaser in Gryffindor's history." He smiled, imagining the prestige and fame he would get once Andrew was in England's World Cup 1998 Quidditch team. "Lily's fine, decided to pick up some new kitchen stuff, and Sirius is around somewhere, probably trying to prank some of the packed boxes."
Remus felt his teeth start to grind, a habit he'd picked up recently, when dealing with the newly-conceited Potters. "And Harry?"
"Harry? Your other son?"
Sirius wandered in, sneaking his wand back up his sleeve, so nobody would notice the hex on the box behind him. "Hey, Remus, what's up?"
"Not much, Padfoot. Just wondering how Harry was."
Remus was beyond exasperated. "The other Potter child. Andrew's twin." He turned to James. "Your first-born son."
"Erm..." James looked a bit confused. "Last time I saw him was when you were tucking him in bed."
"Last time..." Remus trailed off, shock evident on his face. "James, that was two months ago!"
"Was it? Huh. Guess he doesn't say much, then."
Remus was already leaving the room, bounding up the stairs three at a time, before opening Harry's door, revealing an immaculately made bed, a pile of clean clothes, and no Harry. Crossing over to the dresser that Harry had made himself with the base of his old crib, balanced on some old boxes, was a handwritten note.
Dear Uncle Moony
Mummy and Daddy are still busy with Andrew.
Uncle Padfoot still ignores me.
Don't like being hit by Daddy.
Love you, Uncle Moony.
Remus read the note with tears pricking his eyes. He took a deep breath, and noticed that he could barely detect Harry's scent anywhere in the room, clearly indicating he'd been gone for at least a month. Damn you, James, what the hell were you thinking? Or are you simply thinking of the galleons?
He strode back in to the den, where James was sporting donkey ears and Sirius was speaking fluent pigeon; clearly, a duel of the highest calibre.
"His room's empty, James. From the lack of scent, he hasn't been there at least a month. He left a note." He handed it over. "Exactly what does he mean, 'don't like being hit by Daddy'?"
James' face contorted with anger. "The little shit was trying to ruin Andrew's birthday, pouring milk over his presents. I had to discipline him, beat the jealousy out of him."
Remus rubbed his hand over his face, forcing back Moony, who was howling over the pain inflicted on his cub. "We can worry about that later. Come on, we need to find him."
"Sirius, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. If he's been alone for a month, then we need to find him right the hell now. Who knows what shape he's in?"
"If he's been gone a month, he's probably dead by now." Sirius turned to James. "If I were you, I'd get down to Gringotts, make sure someone doesn't try and put in a claim for taking care of him or some shit like that. Some people will do anything for a bit a gold."
Like abandoning their children. Damn you, Sirius. "James, even if Sirius isn't willing to help, then we can still go out looking."
"Remus, get real; I can't leave Andrew alone, he needs constant care and attention, making sure his needs are met. If the other one's gone, then I can spend more time with my son."
Lupin was a quiet man, but his Lycanthropy had rendered him as sterile as a surgeon's scalpel, and when Harry and Andrew were born, he was the happiest he'd ever been. As the twins grew up, he'd watched Harry become so lonely, and Andrew so spoiled, and felt a kinship with Harry due to that loneliness. If his 'friends' weren't going to look for the cub, then he was. He disapparated with a crack, leaving James and Sirius looking at him, confused that he was wasting so much effort on such a worthless cause.
"What's got in to him? Ah well. Now, dance, dog-boy! Tarantellegra!" The curse hit a laughing Sirius, who started dancing like a maniac.
"Two days later, Potter walked in to Gringotts, claimed that I was dead, and exiled from the House of Potter, to make sure that nothing could affect his family. Remus spent a few months searching, but couldn't find me."
Hermione was looking shocked, while Ginny was crying. She felt so much worse, and she'd genuinely felt that Andrew was worthwhile knowing. Now, it seemed, he was a cowardly, conniving little shit who should've been spayed. Darwin would understand.
"Shhh, it's okay. Really, it's okay. I mean, yeah, the start of my life could've been a bit better, but look at me now; I've got a cool tattoo, plenty of gold in my vault, an interesting job, and a pair of girlfriends who shriek if I do this..." His hands suddenly disappeared under the water, and he was right; both of his girlfriends let out shrieks of pleasure as his hands found tender and enjoyable areas.
"Anyway, this has gotten really maudlin. Let's enjoy each other some more, and tomorrow, we can start dealing with Voldemort again. And have more sex." A slippery, pliant body was suddenly straddling him, snogging his brains out while a curtain of brown hair was enveloping his face. Ginny, not to be left out, was swallowing another wad of Gillyweed as she slipped under the water. Suddenly, Hermione's kiss was interrupted as she started humming "Weasley is our Queen", her legs twitching as Ginny's talented tongue went to work.
Harry leaned back, enjoying the sights and sensations in front of him. Life is good...
Harry was lying in bed that evening, completely spent from his day's 'exercise'. Hermione stroked her hand down his chest, resting it on his stomach before slowly sliding it down further, cupping him gently.
"Hermione, please. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is spongy and bruised."
She smiled gently. "Believe me, I know how you feel. I'm going to be walking like John Wayne tomorrow."
"John Wayne, or John Wayne after he's been horse-riding for a week?"
"I'm not sure yet. I'll see how I feel in the morning. That fourth go-round with Ginny was certainly an eye-opener."
The petite redhead, who, up until this point, had been dozing, opened her eyes. "I disagree. Your eyes were closed for most of it."
"Come on! I mean, two Parselmouths doing that to me?" She smiled, then frowned. "In fact, how are you a Parselmouth? I thought that ended with the diary."
Ginny shrugged. "I have no idea. I don't think you mind, though."
Harry snorted. "No, I don't think she does mind, if the cries of 'this is better than books!' was anything to go by."
Hermione had the grace to blush, before murmuring "Less chance of papercuts, too."
"What happened in the Chamber, Harry? I don't know, I only remember waking up in the Hospital wing."
"Also, what happened with the Philosopher's Stone?"
"You want to know about the times I came to Hogwarts before this year?" Both girls nodded. "Okay, well, first up was your first year, Hermione. It was like this..."
Harry dropped quietly as Hedwig flamed him to the outside of the third-floor corridor. "Is this as close as we can get?"
Indeed, Harry-Wizard. Hedwig blinked for a moment. It feels like wards specifically to allow only Fawkes to flame through them.
"Ah well. Let's see how good these protections really are, then." He raised his hand to the door, unlocking it silently, while slipping inside, unnoticed by anyone...
...except for the massive three-headed dog with breath that could kill a Tyrannosaur. The Cerberus eyed Harry carefully before starting to growl.
Harry growled back, snarling and showing his teeth, letting the dog know he meant business. Of course, when you're a 12-foot-tall three-headed dog, faced by a child showing his teeth, you tend not to be that worried.
Harry rolled his eyes, and then started singing. "So unplug the jukebox, and do us all a favour, that music's lost it's taste, so try another flavour, Antmusic." While he was singing, Fluffy's eyes had been drooping, and he was now snoring loudly, rancid blasts of breath washing over Harry. Urgh. I can't believe I'm doing this job for free.
Shifting the massive paw off of the trapdoor, Harry dropped down the darkened shaft. Why the hell do you have a shaft like this on the third floor? Hasn't anyone on the first and second floors noticed? As he landed on the Devil's Snare, he quickly launched a fireball, dropping through the opening.
Wow, a guard-dog that wouldn't be able to defend itself against a drunk Karaoke singer and a plant that's scared of fire, one of the first spells a wizard learns. If this is all it takes, I might be home in time for L.A. Law.
He walked in to the next room, which sounded like a beehive on amphetamines, before seeing hundreds of keys flitting round, ducking and weaving around the rafters.
Great. Couldn't have just hidden it in a room with the Fidelius, oh no, let's just make it a funhouse of magical delights. Pointing his hand at the flock of keys, his eyes sought out one that was different, and he spotted it; a small silver key with a damaged wing. Narrowing his eyes, he shot a narrow Cutting Curse at the key, slicing off the damaged wing, watching as the key tumbled to the ground. Ah, pulling the wings of something flying. At last, I'm having a normal childhood!
Grabbing the key, he stuffed it in the lock, opening the door and ambling through, to find the biggest chess set he'd ever seen. While he was a superb strategist, and an able tactician, Harry really wasn't a good chess player. He wandered over the board to the white side, where the pawns joined swords, forcing him back.
"If you don't get out of my way, I'll hit you in your stone bollocks so hard, you'll be singing soprano in the choir." The pawns scooted backwards, leaving the Queen standing in front of him, sceptre raised. "You know, I could slap you and tell you no. Or..." He raised his hand, creating a fireball that was white-hot. "Well, I'm sure you can imagine what would happen when this hits you in the face."
Finding a suddenly clear path in front of him, Harry wandered past the chess set, finding an unconscious troll lying in the next room, emitting a dreadful stench. Holding his nose, Harry conjured a scrap of parchment and wrote 'Try Scholl athlete's foot powder; it'll help with the smell', before dropping the note on the troll and hurrying forward, eyes watering and burning, to the next room.
Inside was a series of bottles sitting on a table, along with a note, explaining how to get past. Picking up a bottle, Harry sniffed it before taking a deep swig, savouring the sharp flavour of nettle wine. Urgh, what a crap vintage. No wonder it's down here, rather than in a good restaurant. Picking up a small vial, he drank the flame-proofing potion, and wandered through the flames separating this chamber from the next.
Professor Quirrell stood facing the mirror, wheeling around suddenly when he saw Harry enter.
"Who are you?" He asked, deadly menace in his tone.
"Hi!" Harry said cheerfully. "I'm Tom Dickan. Lovely day, isn't it?"
"What?" Quirrell was confused. "What are you doing here, boy?"
"Well, I've lost my keys, and I've looked everywhere else, and I haven't found them, so I thought I'd try here."
"I know. Someone told me once 'they're always in the last place you look'. I mean, duh! Obviously! Why would you keep looking after you found them? What kind of weirdo does that?"
"Silence!" Quirrell pointed his wand at Harry, who was suddenly bound in ropes.
"Erm, I hate to ask, what with you being a teacher and all, but why are you tying a small child up? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm sure you're a good looking man, but I'm afraid it's simply too soon in our relationship to play these sorts of games, especially since I haven't given you a safety word."
Quirrell, turning puce in anger, ignored Harry, and returned to looking in the mirror. "I can see me getting the stone, and presenting it to my master. But where is it?"
A strange voice came from behind Quirrell, harsh and guttural. "Use the boy."
Quirrell turned towards Harry, and raised his wand, levitating the boy towards the mirror.
"Seriously, I'm not that way inclined, so I'd really appreciate it if you didn't use the boy. I mean, I'd expect at least drinks and dinner before we get to that part of the evening."
Quirrell loosened the ropes binding Harry, and levitated him in front of the mirror. "Tell me, boy, what do you see?"
"Me! Man, I'm one good looking bastard." He posed, placing his hands on his hips, disguising his shock when he felt the Stone falling in to his pocket. "Could do with being taller, though."
Quirrell shoved Harry to one side, looking deeper in to the mirror. "He lies. Let me speak with him, face to face."
"Master, you are not strong enough."
"I have strength enough for this." Quirrell unwrapped his turban, releasing a disgusting garlic scent. Turning around, there was a second face in the back of Quirrell's head.
Huh. That's a neat little trick. "Hi there. I tell you, Dark wizards are like buses; don't see one for 10 years, then two come along at once." He squinted at the face. "You know, I've just realised, you haven't got a nose; how do you smell?" He remembered the stinking turban that was sat on the ground. "You smell terrible."
"I am Lord Voldemort, boy. You will fear me."
"Really? You know, you'd be scarier if you didn't look like a waxwork dummy that'd been left out in the sun all day."
"Avada Kedavra!" The green curse shot out of Quirrell's wand, missing the diving-to-the-side Harry, bouncing off of the Mirror of Erised, and rebounding back in to Quirrell. Voldemort was ripped from his body, shouting "Not again!" before floating out of the room, leaving behind the desiccated husk of Quirrell on the ground.
Harry conjured a fake stone, leaving it on the ground next to the body. Just as he was about to leave, he looked round, and then unzipped his trousers...
"Oh, Harry, you pissed on him?" Ginny was giggling madly.
"In my defence, he had just tried to kill me. I think that, after all that bowel-loosening terror, I deserved to stop for a widdle before leaving. Besides, I asked Quirrell before I let rip, and he didn't say no." Harry raised an eyebrow. "Come to think of it, he didn't say much at all."
Hermione just shook her head, laughing the whole time. "You know, Andrew's got an invisibility cloak that might've helped you. Especially considering what they were planning to do with it."
"Why, what were they planning?"
"They were planning, and I quote, 'now that the girls are growing tits, we should find a way to sneak in to the girls' showers.' Ironically, I felt like I needed to bathe after that."
"And now you realise how disturbing it is for Ginny and me, having to share genetics with those two retarded spider monkeys." He kissed Ginny's head. "Still, I wouldn't worry about that cloak; Dumbledore's got tracking charms on it, and his glasses can see through those types of cloaks anyway, so it's not like Andrew can get away with anything." He shrugged. "Anyway, with the stone, I was getting read to leave, when Andrew staggered in; I hid behind the mirror and watched him pass out after seeing Quirrell's body, cracking his bonce on the ground. I placed the fake stone in his hand, and left."
"How did he get through the defences?"
"What defences? The Devil's Snare was burnt, so he landed on a cushioning charm, the key room door was open, the Chess set had left open a path, the troll was unconscious and I left the flame-proofing potion off to one side. All he had to do was walk through them, and he was still wheezing when he arrived. Seeing Quirrell, he was out like a light, and I just got a lift with Hedwig. Dumbledore later pronounced that he'd defeated a Dark wizard, saved the stone, and been injured by some falling debris. That was your first year."
Hermione looked embarrassed. "The only thing I was worried about that day was my Charms exam. Still, I did get 112, which is apparently the second highest score ever for the first-year Charms exam. I wonder who got the highest score." Harry coughed and looked away. "Harry?" He continued looking away, so Hermione reached down and gently squeezed Junior, bringing Harry's attention firmly back to her. "Is there something you'd like to share with me?"
"Certainly, but we'll have to hurry; it's about to drop off due to lack of circulation."
She squeezed harder, making Harry wince. "I meant about the test."
"Oh." He smiled. "No."
She pouted, but ignored it, for now. "So, what happened in the Chamber?"
"Well, that was more interesting."
Ginny snorted. "Interesting, maybe, but not exactly what I'd call fun..."
"'Her bones shall lie in the Chamber forever'. Remind me again why I'm doing this, Hed?" Harry crept down the second floor corridor of Hogwarts, mentally humming the theme of Mission: Impossible, diving behind a suit of armour. There was no-one approaching, he just thought it would add to the moment.
Because her life force is draining away, and something wicked this way comes.
"Spoken like a girl without thumbs." Harry had been alerted by a vampire Oracle, who'd warned him to be in Hogwarts this night, to plunge in to ancient secrets and save a life by destroying a soul. Damned instructions were like a Japanese VCR manual, translated in to Russian by an irate Frenchman.He entered a bathroom, spotting a ghost sulking in a u-bend.
"Hi there. Do you come here often?"
The ghost let out a sob, but approached the dishy newcomer. "Who are you?"
"I'm Hunter." He held out his hand, and the ghost held her hand up, looking shocked as Harry 'shook' her hand, using a combination of precisely controlled banishing and summoning charms on the energy of her hand.
She giggled. "I'm Myrtle."
"Hi, Myrtle. You didn't, by any chance, see a girl come in here, maybe accompanied by a very large serpentine killing machine?"
"Yes, I did, about 10 minutes ago. They went down there." She gestured towards the island of sinks in the middle of the bathroom. "She hissed at it, it opened, she jumped down, and it closed." She looked at Harry slyly. "Can you touch all parts of a ghost?"
Harry smiled at her. "Sure. Listen, it's been fun, but I need to get down there." Myrtle pouted. "Oh, here." Harry gestured with his hand, a very specific banishing charm aimed at Myrtle's midsection. Living up to her name, Myrtle moaned loudly, before stumbling backwards, a goofy smile on her face.
The sinks suddenly rumbled and groaned as they split apart, revealing a long shaft, dropping downwards.
This is just like last year; a long drop down a dark shaft. The Chamber of Secrets is a thousand years old; did they have porcelain sinks and indoor plumbing a millennium ago? I think not. How come nobody noticed before now? Harry jumped down the shaft, sliding down very quickly through the slimy passage, landing in a large pile of rat bones, which crunched beneath him. Harry had recently met a pit viper he called Ovophis, who probably would've loved the trip down the tube; she was a real adrenaline junkie, which had surprised Harry, since he didn't know that snakes even had adrenal glands.
Gathering himself up from the floor, he walked down a dark corridor, roughly hewn from the stone, rock dust drifting downwards. Man, that roof does not look stable. He was treading lightly, trying to avoid making noise, and avoid using magic at all costs; only a complete and total moron would attempt to use magic in an environment that unstable.
At the end of the corridor was a large metal door, with snakes slithering around the metalwork, hissing silently.
The snakes all retreated towards the centre of the door, and the massive gate swung open, revealing a large Chamber, with a high ceiling and sconces on the walls, holding torches that gave out a sickly green light, with shadows dancing in the corners of the room. At one end of the chamber was a gigantic stone head, a statue of someone who really should've walked around with a bag on his head.
I have got to have a Halloween party down here! Not knowing what to expect, Harry used the newest spell he'd learnt, the disillusionment spell, to fade from view, hopefully giving him a tactical advantage. He crept forward, spotting a body lying on the ground, out in the open, almost perfect bait for a trap. Just as he was about to investigate, he heard someone yell 'Obliviate', and the entire Chamber shook as part of the ceiling in the antechamber tunnel collapse.
"Ron, clear some of these stones; I'll deal with whatever the monster is."
"Save my sister, champ!"
Andrew Potter charged in to the Chamber, and looked around, seeing the creepy lighting, experiencing the fetid air. He did not look happy as he walked forward, spotting Ginny lying on the ground. He ran towards her, took one look at her pale, death-like countenance, and promptly passed out, dropping his wand on to the ground.
Harry just shook his head; it was beyond embarrassing, knowing that he'd shared a womb with this tit for 9 months. He approached Ginny, seeing her lying on the ground, and smiled in relief as he saw her chest rise and fall softly; her breathing was too shallow and irregular, but the important thing was that she was breathing.
"She won't wake."
Harry looked up to see a student, a little older than he was, in Slytherin robes, standing over him. Where did he come from? He could feel energy flowing off of Ginny, not magic per se, but energy, heading towards this stranger.
"Listen, friend, nice to meet you and all, but I could really do with a hand getting her out of here. There's a basilisk on the loose, and I'm too pretty to become snake food." Harry gently scooped up the unconscious Ginny, staggering slightly as he started back towards the door.
"It won't come until it's called."
"Great! So let's hope nobody calls, we can get out of here, and I can go grab a shower."
The student scooped up Andrew's wand, and pointed it at Harry. "I'm afraid I can't let you leave with the girl yet. I need her here for just a little bit longer."
"Look, pal, if she stays here for a little bit longer, she'll be deader than a can of spam."
"I know. And with her dead, my resurrection shall be complete."
Harry gently laid Ginny on the ground, and faced the student. "Who are you?"
"A memory. Trapped in a diary for 50 years. And released when little Ginny Weasley poured her soul in to me, worrying about how the famous Andrew Potter wouldn't like her." The student pointed at Andrew, who was still out cold on the ground.
"She's got it the wrong way round; she should be worried about liking him, the useless git. Famous for doing nothing."
The student raised the wand, pointing it at Harry's face. "That 'useless git' destroyed the greatest wizard of all time! How is it that a baby could defeat the awesome power of Lord Voldemort, with not even a scratch to show for it?"
"Hang on, Voldemort was the greatest wizard of all time? Are you sure it wasn't Stopem Fiddlin, inventor of the pocket billiard game? Surely he's the greatest wizard of all time. You're just a student. Who are you, anyway?"
"I was Tom Marvolo Riddle." Tom used Andrew's wand to draw fiery letters in the air, spelling out the name, before changing it with a swish, to read 'I am Lord Voldemort'.
"You're Voldemort? Huh, guess you grew a nose in the last year, then." He blinked, looking at the floating letters in front of him. "Man, you really lucked out with Marvolo for a middle name, didn't you? Otherwise, you'd be stuck with 'Mid Let Rod', which wouldn't be half as impressive."
"Crucio!" The spell impacted Harry, but just washed over him, not affecting him.
"Still think you're the greatest wizard of all time?" Harry truly had no idea why the spell hadn't affected him; he'd been hit with the Cruciatus before, and he knew it was agonising, but he hadn't felt a thing this time. Harry wasn't about to advertise his ignorance, though; when in doubt, act like you're invincible.
"I don't need magic to defeat you, child." Riddle turned towards the status. §Speak to me, Slytherin, Greatest of the Hogwarts Four!§
"Actually, he wasn't. Everyone knows the greatest of the Founders was Helga Hufflepuff. According to the legends, she could out-drink, out-swear and out-fight all of the other Founders combined. And not just duelling, but apparently she liked nothing more than a good bar fight. Not particularly ladylike, but in the Dark Ages, really, who cares?"
The statue's mouth opened, revealing a passage, and the massive basilisk, 89 feet long and just over 4 metric tons, slithered out, facing the small human in front of him. The serpent opened its massive maw and let out a noise that seemed to be a careful blending of a hiss and a roar, almost deafening Harry, who winced at the noise.
"You are one truly ugly fucker."
"How do you like the pet of the mighty Slytherin?"
"I've seen better." Harry whistled a three-note tune, and Hedwig flamed in to existence, landing on his shoulder, glaring at the massive serpent.
An uplifting tune echoed through the chamber as Fawkes, the beautiful red and gold Phoenix of Dumbledore, flew in to view, carrying a scrap of cloth in his talons. He dropped the cloth in Harry's hands, and landed on his other shoulder.
"That's the old school sorting hat."
"A hat? You brought me a hat?" Harry looked at the bird on his right shoulder. "Nice to see you again, by the way, but what on earth do I do with a hat?"
The hat suddenly shook in his hands, and a rip near the brim started moving. "At the risk of sounding stupid, I would suggest putting me on."
"Let's compare the powers of Lord Voldemort against Dumbledore's Champion, armed with the best weapons the old man can muster."
Harry looked at the two phoenixes on his shoulders, who appeared to be trilling to each other happily. "Seriously, now is not the time to be flirting."
The basilisk charged, ramming its massive head in to Harry, smashing him backwards while sending the two birds squawking in to the air. The two phoenixes trilled to each other as they gained height, before wheeling around, diving in unison, smashing in to the malevolent amber eyes of the serpent. Twin gouts of blood appeared, and Harry was forced to look away as the snake was blinded.
A roar of pain almost deafened Harry as the basilisk desperately raged against the two phoenixes assaulting it. Seeing that the serpent was distracted, Harry slid the hat on his head.
Interesting; you should've been one of mine, except for the stupidity of one of your birthers.
Harry suddenly rolled to one side, ducking a swipe from the basilisk's tail.
Seriously, mate; history? Good. Staying alive? So much better.
Very well. I can see in you the attributes of all the Founders, but in your heart, you have strength and honour, courage and conviction. The hat suddenly shuddered, and Harry felt something smash in to his head, almost knocking him out. Taking the hat off, he pulled out a long straight sword, rubies decorating the handle.
The basilisk, having managed to free itself from the phoenixes, lunged at Harry, intending to swallow him in one go. Unfortunately, Harry had just raised the sword to examine it, which pierced the soft palate of the snake's mouth, lancing directly in to its brain. As Harry felt warm blood trickling down his arm, he wrenched the sword free, stumbling backwards, landing on the basilisk's bottom jaw, one of the fangs penetrating straight through his trousers, slicing in to his bum cheek.
A wave of fire shot through Harry's bum, the venom already going to work, damaging and killing tissue as it went.
Quickly, Harry-Wizard, we can cry on the wound and heal you.
Feeling pretty stupid, Harry staggered to his feet, fumbling with his trousers. The things I do to stay alive. As soon as his lowered his pants, he fell forwards, finding it difficult to stand, his vision starting to grey. He felt the sharp talons of Hedwig on the back of his thigh, as she settled and started to cry thick, white pearly tears, while Fawkes settled on his lower back. Even though the two birds were crying, he could tell they were laughing, probably at his lily-white bum.
"You birds! Get away from him!" The two birds took off, leaving a fuming Riddle standing over Harry.
"You may have killed the basilisk, but I'm going to kill you."
Harry, face down on the ground, felt something warm pressing against his chest. Looking down, he saw it was a black leather diary with the legend 'T. M. Riddle' stamped in gold lettering on the cover. He could feel the energy being drawn from Ginny in to this book, and Riddle behind him drawing energy from the book. As he picked up the book, some of the blood on his hands from a cut dripped on to the cover, which started to hiss and fizz as if dropped in acid. Riddle screamed as if he'd been dropped in molten lava, a blast of light tearing through his robes, as if his insides were naught but light.
Harry ran his palm over his sword, and placed the freely-bleeding wound on the book, which started smoking. The books reeked of Dark magic, and the purity of Fawkes, through the feathers in Harry's body, destroyed that darkness. Harry stood up, clenching the book tightly.
"Rest in Peace, Tom Riddle, for the Darkness shall be burnt away by the Light."
Riddle's outline was flickering, rippling, and then finally collapsed, leaving no trace of his existence. Harry dropped the book, and looked down, finding his trousers and underwear around his ankles.
"Well, that went well."
The two phoenixes flew down towards him, landing on his shoulders, trilling softly.
"Thank you. You were both wonderful." Hedwig nipped his ear, while Fawkes nuzzled Harry's neck. "Is there any chance of a lift? I could really do with a bath, and I think that this Ginny girl could really do with the Hospital Wing."
Fawkes flew over to Ginny's prone form, grasping her gently in his talons before flaming her away.
Harry pulled his trousers up, wandering over to check that Andrew was uninjured. Just before he fastened his fly, he looked around, and...
"Oh, Harry, please, tell me you didn't." Hermione was giggling madly.
"I asked him if he minded being pee'd on, and he didn't say no. Besides, he's a tit."
Ginny was looking nauseous. "I woke up in the hospital wing. They told me that he'd saved me from a basilisk. I kissed him." She looked green. "I kissed the face that you pee'd on!"
"Sorry." However, he didn't look particularly repentant.
"Stand up a second, Harry."
Harry stood, not enjoying the cold air on his damp body.
"Oh, it's so cute!"
"What is?" Harry felt two pairs of hands rubbing at his buttock, the galleon-sized scar from being impaled on a fang.
"Nothing. Never mind." Ginny leaned in and kissed the scar, Harry jumping from the unexpected sensation. "What? At least you didn't pee here!"
Hermione gently pushed Ginny away so Harry could sit back down. "So, what happened during third year? I mean, I saw the Dementors, and there were rumours of an escaped killer on the grounds, but I never did find out what happened."
"Oh that? That's easy. What happened was..."
"You're kidding me."
"I assure you, Harry, I'm quite serious."
"Look, Sebastian, don't get me wrong, you're powerful, wise and a fair ruler." Harry looked at the vampire elder in front of him. "And you're one hell of a dancer. But breaking in to Azkaban? I mean, you want me to break in to a prison. Doesn't this seem just a little off? Surely the idea of prisons are to keep people in, not invite them in for a nice quite break-in and a chat."
"You asked me to find out what happened on Halloween's Fall; I cannot. Clan Ventrue was not aligned with Voldemort, and we have no idea what happened, other than your parents were attacked and Voldemort fell. We have only encountered one Death Eater since then, and we invited him to dinner."
"Be, Sebastian, you missed out the Be. You invited him to be dinner."
"Semantics, Harry. Regardless of that quite delicious snack, if you want to find out what happened, then you need to speak to Death Eaters. If you want to speak to Death Eaters, you can either try the Lonely Hearts ads, or Azkaban."
"Lonely Hearts ads?"
"Harry, just because my heart hasn't beat in over 700 years is not a reason that it doesn't get lonely."
"And you're harem?"
"Ah." Sebastian LeCroix looked around, making sure that none of the harem was around, even the three vampires who were always topless. It was something that had baffled Harry for years, ever since he had started socialising with vampires; no matter if it was a crypt, castle or condemned subway station, if there was a vampire of note in residence, there were three females vampires hanging around with their boobs out. "Well, Harry, as I'm quite fond of my testicles in their current position, rather than having them torn off and put in my watch pocket, I'll suggest Azkaban."
"Good idea." Harry bowed once before leaving, heading towards the exit.
Bellatrix Lestrange was, quite simply, bonkers. Never the most stable person (her own cousin, Sirius Black, once referred to her as 'nuttier than the floor of a castration clinic'), 14 years in Azkaban, under the tender and affectionate mercies of the Dementors, had rendered her rather limited supply of sanity to something she could take or leave, and she frequently left.
Now, however, she was terrified, as a young man, radiating power and lethal ability, had slipped inside her cell to bitch-slap her in to submission.
"Death Eaters. Peter Pettigrew. October 1981. What happened?"
"Piss off, boy scout!"
Further proof of her insanity; she thinks I'm a boy scout. "Bella, believe me, as fun as this is, I'd much rather be doing something much more dangerous, like rearranging my sock drawer. So, I'm going to ask again, nicely, and after that? Eh, not so nice. What happened at the Potters?"
"You'll never make me talk. And when the Dark Lord returns, he will flay your bones."
Harry backhanded her across the face, watching as she hit the cell wall, hard. Pinning his arm across her throat, he leaned in close to her. "Alright, no more Mr. Nice Guy." He rabbit-punched her in the stomach, her breath leaving her with an explosive pah. "What happened to Voldemort?"
"Don't speak his name, you filth!" She looked down, seeing Harry pressing her against the wall with his body. Figuring she could use her wiles to get him naked on the cell's cot, and therefore defenceless, she growled seductively. "It's been 14 years since a man's touched me. Why not help me scratch that itch?"
Harry head-butted her, hard. She winced, feeling her nose break, before her vision was suddenly blurred, thick ropes of tears streaming down her face as she fell to her knees.
"Bella, I wouldn't fuck you with a stolen dick." He grabbed her arm, forcing up her back. "Besides, have you smelled you recently? I'm fairly certain that I'd end up with the itch, and it certainly wouldn't want to be one I scratched. Now, this is a very nice muggle toy, called a Taser. What it does it use electricity to force the body to react. Now, ironically, magic stops it from working, but with all the magic suppressors here? Works just fine." He pressed the taser against Lestrange's stomach, forcing her diaphragm to suddenly contract, robbing her of breath. "So, I ask you again. What happened that Halloween?"Harry was stalking through the darkened corridors of Azkaban, embarrassed to admit that he was lost. He'd questioned Lestrange, who'd suggested, after some of Harry's 'persuasion', that Sirius Black was someone to talk to, as he'd been suggested as the Secret Keeper. Using his basic Legilimency, he'd detected, among with the detritus of a damaged mind, that she was convinced that Sirius was partly responsible, that she was as horny as a hedgehog on a honeymoon, and that she was utterly dedicated to the Dark Lord.
After his chat with Bitchatrix, he'd found two other Death Eaters, Augustus Rookwood, a former Unspeakable who was convinced that Dumbledore had something to do with Voldemort's fall, and Antonin Dolohov, a man with a room-temperature IQ and a penchant for mindless violence that was beyond description, who had recommended that he speak to James Potter. Well, he recommended after I knocked out 11 of his teeth. Eh, as black as they were, they would've had to have come out anyway. I'm doing the Azkaban Healers a favour. What a guy!
One thing that had struck Harry, though, was that all of the people he spoke to told him one thing. There was only one place he was going to get answers. Hogwarts.
"So, I sent Remus a letter, telling him to head to Hogwarts. Why? I honestly have no idea."
"Well, I only found this out when I spoke to Moony a week ago, but he got my note, and headed to Hogwarts; Black was there, having dinner with the Potters. Moony was looking for the Marauder's Map, a map of Hogwarts that-"
"-That shows every tunnel, corridor and person in the castle." Ginny smiled shyly. "I've seen it."
"Yeah, the potential for pranking with it is pretty impressive. Anyway, Moony found that the map wasn't in Flich's filing cabinet, and decided to head to Potter's office; he didn't know the students very well, so he didn't know which pranksters might be using it."
"Fred and George?" Ginny smiled, remembering some of the pranks the twins pulled during her first year, the only bright spot from a wretched year.
"Yeah. Didn't they tell you?"
"Nope, they must've kept it a secret. And Drew didn't tell me either; to be honest, of all the things he liked about my mouth, asking questions wasn't at the top of the list."
Harry lay a gentle kiss on her lips, and she made a happy noise. "They are rather kissable..." He shook his head, and smiled. "Anyway, Potter had the map in his office, and they saw Andrew and Ron heading towards the tunnel near the Whomping Willow. God knows what they thought they were doing, but they had Pettigrew with them. Turns out he's a rat."
"Erm, possibly. Not a clue what he was called. Still, Moony chased after the lads, and caught up to them, just before they went in the tunnel. He then explained his case..."
"That's not a rat. It's an animagus called Peter Pettigrew, and I'll prove it." Lupin pointed his wand at the quivering rat, which was trying to escape Ron's desperate grip. "Animas Revelio!"
The rat flashed white, before suddenly, a short but incredibly fat man was falling forward, knocking Ron over.
"Hello, Peter. It's been a long time."
"Remus! My old friend." Pettigrew has obviously spent too much time as a rat; his movement on two legs was shaky, as if he'd forgotten what to do and his nose twitched as he breathed. He turned towards Andrew. "And you! Young Andrew. You look so much like your father."
"Don't speak to me, Filth! I am the Boy-Who-Lived! You are just scum. When I tell my father what happened-"
Harry, heading through the forest under a modified disillusion spell, which disguised his features so that nobody could recognise him, emerged from the dark trees to hear this sentence. "-He'll do what? Have a press conference? Release yet another book?"
"How dare you?"
"Easily. So you're Pettigrew, huh?" Harry looked at the trembling wizard, who was kneeling in a puddle of his own urine. "You know, I've been looking for you for a long time now, Rat."
"Please... I didn't want to betray the Potters. The Dark Lord has weapons you cannot possibly imagine."
Andrew puffed up his chest. "The Dark Lord is nothing. I defeated him when I was only a year old. Of course, I'm a superior specimen of wizardkind, but surely you could've done better than you did."
Harry rolled his eyes, the gesture mirrored by the werewolf next to him. The clouds, thick grey banks that had drifted lazily across the sky, suddenly cleared, revealing the swollen, dirty-yellow sphere of the full moon. Remus stiffened, and started to twitch.
"Lupin? Are you okay?" Harry saw the desperate look in his amber eyes, indicating that the wolf, not the man, was in the driving seat. "Did you take your potion?"
Remus pushed backwards; in the rush to chase after Pettigrew, the traitor that had damaged and hurt his pack, he'd forgotten about the Wolfsbane, and wild, dangerous magic was pouring off him. Harry could feel it, not the powerful, controlled magic of a firefight, but the 'yippee, my human can't control me any more' magic that signified that Moony, caged too long by the potion, was coming out to play.
Lupin tried to yell at them to run, but his voice box was suddenly twisting and changing, his jaws no longer suitable for talking.
Harry was torn; he had the chance to capture Pettigrew, to repay the rat for destroying his family, but that would allow Moony, a fully-grown and, from the sounds of snarling coming from the shifting form, fully-enraged werewolf to access the school grounds, including Andrew and Ron, who'd decided that standing there, watching with slightly stupid looks on their faces, was the best option of dealing with werewolves. Brilliant. Harry made his choice, pushing the two boys away while smashing his fist in to Moony's face.
"I'd run if I were you." Pettigrew, Andrew and Ron all took this as good advice, Peter turning in to a rat and fleeing towards the forest while the boys ran towards the school. Moony, watching possible prey leaving, leapt at Harry with a savage fury.
"I don't want to hurt you, Moony." Ducking under a punch that could've decapitated him, Harry hit the werewolf in the stomach, following it with an uppercut. "Doesn't mean I won't, though."
The two exchanged blows, Harry more than a match for the werewolf, whose physical condition had suffered from years of bad diet and poor rest. Harry couldn't go all out, though, as he'd end up killing the werewolf, and that wasn't fair to the gentle, book-loving man who was his uncle.
The answer came in the form of clopping; Prongs, the magnificent stag, and Padfoot, the massive grim, charging forward, Prongs using his rack to fend off Moony's irate swipes, while Padfoot kept nipping in, biting the werewolf.
Yowling and in pain, Moony took off towards the forest, leaving behind two unlikely animals. With a graceful shift, they turned back in to humans.
"Well, it's been a while since we've had to do that."
"I know. Why hadn't he taken his potion?"
"He was looking for Peter Pettigrew. He had him at wandpoint until the full moon came out."
Sirius Black was a highly trained Auror; hearing an unknown voice behind him, he wheeled around, quick-drawing his wand, and pointing it the man in front of him.
"Who are you?"
"A Hunter. Pettigrew headed towards the forest. I'd suggest you find him." Harry turned his back and started to head towards the forest, when he heard James Potter's voice.
"Where the hell do you think you're going? Get your arse back here and explain yourself."
Harry's retort was cut off by an ice-cold feeling in his soul, as if he'd never think a happy thought again; it was as painful and terrifying as opening an envelope from Inland Revenue. Dementors.
What the hell are they doing here? Ignoring the biting cold, he focused on his happiest memory (a sweaty and enjoyable afternoon spent with Anezka, a 243-year-old vampire who was his double's partner in tennis, where he'd learnt just what fun you can have with someone who doesn't get out of breath), and raised his arm, watching as his Patronus, Nails, shot out of his hand.
The Patronus was massive, not only a brilliant silver, but radiating such feelings of joy and happiness that the Dementors were retreating before the huge Velociraptor was even close enough to touch them. Named not only for the potent rending claws on its toes, but also for the fact that the Patronus was, in fact, 'ard as Nails, the impact of the guardian was immense; feeling the effects recede, Black and Potter shot off their own Patroni, driving the Dementors away from them. When they looked again, the Hunter was gone.
"From what I've been told, the guards found the smashed cell doors and the beaten prisoners, and assumed that someone had escaped from the prison. Since I was looking for Black, Potter and Dumbledore, they went to Hogwarts, and Fudge, thinking that a prisoner was on the loose, brought Dementors with him as bodyguards."
"So you just left?"
"Yep. Dumb and Dumber were back in the castle safe from Remus, Even Dumber and Dumbest were safe from the Dementors, and I'd left my washing in the tumble dryer; if I didn't get back to it soon, I'd have serious static issues. So, I left."
Ginny and Hermione were sitting at the table, waiting for Harry to finish cooking their breakfast; the trio were naked, except for Harry, who was wearing an apron, as he was well aware that bacon could splatter, and he didn't really fancy getting a blister on his fun bits.
"After that, everything was quiet. I didn't hear a thing about Pettigrew, or Voldemort, or anything, until the World Cup, when the Death Eaters were spotted. I captured one, and found out that they had nothing to do with Voldemort; they were just a bit bored. Prats. Anyway, I kept an eye on the Tournament that was going on at Hogwarts that year, but nothing really interesting happened; it seemed like Andrew had his daddy doing everything for him; hell, it wouldn't surprise me if it was really James under Polyjuice. I had Hedwig watching the Third Task when she alerted me that Andrew and Cedric vanished from the middle of the maze. It seemed that Cedric reached the cup first, but went back to help out Andrew out of one of the traps. Andrew wanted to take the cup for himself, but Cedric hit him with a tripping jinx, and Cedric suggested that they both take it, as a Hogwarts victory. Andrew agreed, realising that some victory was better than none at all. I wasn't there, I was staking out a location, when they both reached for the cup..."
It was official: Harry was bored. For almost three months, he'd been camping out in Little Hangleton, waiting for Voldemort to rise again. A few small missions, killing a nest of vampires, and slaying two werewolves, and a very fun three days in Las Vegas for a poker tournament, had taken him away, but other than that, he'd been waiting.
His tent, hidden under a Fidelius charm at the end of the Little Hangleton graveyard, had become a little confined for him, after all this time. However, the visions from Voldemort, which was a polite way of saying he got great splitting migraines with blurry pictures and the kind of soundtrack found of a pirate video, kept him on his task.
"Where are we?" Andrew asked stupidly. "Is this part of the task?"
Cedric Diggory was not a stupid person, and had his wand in hand as soon as he got his bearings. "You might wanna draw your wand, Potter."
Andrew turned, sneering at Diggory. "I don't need you to tell me what to do, Diggory! I'm the 'Boy-Who-Lived'! I think I know what needs to be done! You should be thankful that I'm here to protect you. Don't you worry; with me here, nothing's going to happen to you!"
From the darkness, a weak, raspy voice called out. "Kill the spare!"
"Avada Kedavra!" a second voice called out, the bolt of deadly green light slamming into Diggory. He was dead before his body hit the ground.
Twenty feet away, Harry snarled. Damn it! He swore to himself. If only... Those were words that had no place in battle. With a grimace, he focussed on keeping the Boy Blunder alive. He was a symbol to the sheep of the Wizarding world, and his survival was necessary. Baa...
He crept round the grave markers, until he was about six feet from the tall angel that was holding his brother hostage. A few feet in front of that marker was a cauldron, containing some vile smelling concoction, potent enough to make him gag. Jesus... that's rank. He watched Peter Pettigrew, another person who deserved a good killing, or maybe a bad one, drop a baby into the cauldron with a loud splash.
If that wasn't Voldemort, I'd probably feel quite sorry for it. He mused, grimacing as another wave a fetid air wafted towards him. His brother was wriggling against the robes binding him to the tombstone. Of course, since he wasn't the real 'Boy-Who-Lived', he didn't get to feel the joyous pounding in his head, the result of being physically close to Voldemort, or the sheer delight in feeling so nauseous from the pain in his head that his stomach felt like it was doing loop-de-loops.
"What's going on?" Andrew shouted at Wormtail, truly not understanding the situation.
"Silence, boy." Wormtail growled back. "You should be honoured. You're witnessing the rebirth of the greatest wizard ever!"
"Albus Dumbledore is the greatest wizard in the world!"
Truly a pawn. Harry thought idly, watching with bated breath as the cauldron began to smoke. It's time...
Wormtail, wielding a knife, raised a shaking right hand over the cauldron, visibly gathering the tattered shreds of his courage. How he became a Gryffindor is beyond me. Harry thought, watching him cut off his right hand. Ooh... that'll sting in the morning. He saw the hand splash in to the cauldron. Sod that, I bet it's stinging right now.
With a casual flick of a wand, not even his own, Wormtail levitated a hunk of bone out of his father's grave, dropping it into the cauldron. Huh... Voldemort's using his father's bone. If I were smutty minded, I'm sure I could make some crude comment about that... Finally, Wormtail approached Andrew, grasping his arm. The knife, which he'd used to cut off his own hand, was used again to take some blood from Andrew.
I don't think that's very sanitary, Pete.The drops of blood fell into the cauldron. With a bang, a flash, and the smell of burning brimstone, the liquid in the cauldron exploded, leaving a naked man stood in place.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has no dick? Oh, that's sad... Voldemort stood, naked as the day he was born, staring imperiously around. Gotta admit, it's hard to look imperious and god-like when you're naked and have the same equipment as Action Man.
"Robe me, Wormtail." He hissed sibilantly. Pettigrew scurried forward like the rat he was, draping a robe over Voldemort, before handing him his wand.
"Your arm, Wormtail." Voldemort commanded.
"Thank you, Master." Wormtail grovelled, holding up the bleeding stump.
"Your other arm, Wormtail!"
Pettigrew looked at his master, confusion and fear on his face. Harry watched with a wicked grin. You really should learn to play nicely, Tom. You'll never keep followers if you allow them to bleed to death. He watched as Voldemort jabbed his wand on the Dark Mark on Pettigrew's left forearm, nearly gagging as the Mark blossomed with black fire. The smell of burning flesh rippled over him. He looked up to see his brother turn to the side and vomit noisily. That's just grim...
Around them, the smoky black trails of apparition signatures began to appear. The Death Eaters were returning to their master.
Not good... Harry was more than a match for any two of these individuals. Maybe as many as four or five. But against almost twenty? Even he'd be defeated.
"My loyal Death Eaters... it's been thirteen years. Thirteen years since we were last together under the Mark. And where were you when I was banished? I see you all here, hale and hearty, with your powers intact."
Harry, ignoring the pompous bastard's speech, circled around, seeking out the fallen Tri-Wizard trophy. He tapped it with his finger, turning it back into a Portkey. Now... all he needed was to make sure that Cedric's body was sent back as well...
"Oh, sorry, Andrew... I'd almost forgotten you were here." Voldemort said sarcastically. "The 'Boy-Who-Lived'... isn't that what they call you? You believe that you defeated me, boy?"
"Yes." Andrew spat arrogantly. "I did before, and I will again! You're nothing compared to me!"
Oh, Christ! Shut up, you twat!Harry roared mentally.This is really not the time to get a bloody backbone! You're outnumbered and out-powered. You cannot win!
"Really, boy?" He turned to Pettigrew. "Untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand."
Shit! Harry quickly tapped the trophy again, adding a second spell to the Portkey. One millisecond after the Portkey activated, it would drop a powerful Reducto hex, hopefully covering the escape. Casting a quick and dirty disillusionment charm on himself, he rushed over to Cedric's body, turning it into a Portkey, linked to the trophy. As soon as that activated, Cedric's body would be taken back to Hogwarts.
"You have been taught how to duel, Potter?" Voldemort asked. "First, we bow to each other." Andrew just stared, slowly beginning to realise that he may be in just a little over his head. "Bow, Andrew. Dumbledore wouldn't want you to forget your manners now, would he?"
With a flick of his wand, Voldemort bent Andrew's spine, forcing him to bow. "And now, we duel!" He rushed forward, casting a Crucio on the 'Boy-Who-Lived', causing him to squeal in agony. It sounded like a cat in a blender. After a few seconds, he released the curse.
He turned back, and knelt down next to the shivering Potter. "That hurt, didn't it?" He asked in mock-sympathy. "I'm going to kill you, Potter. When people hear of you, they'll hear of how you... begged for death. And I, being a merciful lord... granted it." He stood up, pacing away until he was 10 feet from him.
Get up, Andrew. Harry said. Get up. He watched as Andrew, more balls than brains, although, in truth, very little of either, struggled back to his feet. Thank you. With a flick of his wrist, the Tri-Wizard trophy soared towards him, hitting him squarely in the back. With a small flash, he vanished. However, the Reducto exploded the instant he'd left, with the force of a dozen hand grenades. The explosion covered up the disappearance of Cedric's body as it, too, was Portkeyed away.
Hedwig! Harry shouted mentally. It's time we departed! With an invisible flash and a soundless roar, Harry's companion appeared, landing on his shoulder before flaming out. As he faded away, one last thought entered his mind.
Damn it! I didn't get to piss on him!
"Me and Hedwig got back home, and I went back to work, hunting vamps and werewolves, and watching the Ministry of Magic bollix things up. In the end, I had to come back to fix things, and I have." Harry looked down at the two women, who were snuggled up to him on the couch, and could see that they'd both dropped off to sleep as he finished his tale. Gently freeing himself from their embrace, he stood up, and walked away. The two girls shifted closer to each other, arms wrapping around each other to replace their lost warmth.
"Well, Ovo, we've done what we needed to go. Voldemort's been stopped, and the Ministry knows that he can be resurrected. Is my work here done?"
§Your original mission is complete, yes. But is your work here done?§ The snake looked at the two sleeping girls. §If you leave, what becomes of them?§
"I'd take them with me. I feel something for them, something I haven't felt in years."
§And what of all the other Hermiones and Ginnys in the world? Who protects them? The Ministry? The people? Dumbledore?§
"You're saying it's my responsibility?"
§No. I'm saying it's your privilege, to rid the world of this scum. To work in the shadows, to remain behind the scenes, and claim no reward, and to do your duty.§ The snake looked at the two sleeping girls, who were completely wrapped around each other. §Well, claim minimal rewards, anyway.§
Harry was disturbed from his musing by Hedwig flaming in, a copy of the Daily Prophet in her talons.
You-Know-Who Defeated! Ministry Plan Executed Flawlessly!
By: Rita Skeeter
Today, in Hogsmeade, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was defeating by Ministry personnel in a pitched battle, leaving the Dark Lord's ranks decimated for only minimal casualties and damage for the Light side. Minister Fudge made this statement; 'Your Ministry of Magic, of which I am honoured to lead, devised and developed a plan to combat Lord Thingy, and in a confrontation in Hogsmeade village, a Hit-Wizard defeated the Dark Lord, shredding his body with a technique that, for security reasons, I am unable to mention. This valiant fighter, with the full-thanks of this Ministry, has decided to avoid the public spotlight, content to carry on his tireless work for this administration.' Headmaster Dumbledore, who was in Hogsmeade at the time of the attack, said, 'While Lord XXXXX (Name deleted for public safety) has been defeated, we should all remain alert to the possible rise of other Dark forces.'
To our brave defender, this reporter has only this to say; 'Thank you.'
"So, Pudgy Fudgy thinks that he can claim the credit." Harry looked at his girls, noticing that Ginny had wandering hands, even in her sleep, and that Hermione had a small smile on her face as she enjoyed said hands. "Ah, bollocks to it. I've been sitting back, watching things happen. Time to get to work."
Author's Note: Yes, I know it's been ages since this story's been updated, but when you're working on something this good, then time is unimportant. Or, in truth, both me and MagnaMorbius have been working on other things. We have? Yes, we have. Anyway, Part 2 will be coming soon, and you'll see the important things, like:
Will Harry ever forgive his Mum and Dad?
Will Voldemort be defeated?
Will Ron Weasley ever know love, apart from Flossie, his inflatable rubber sheep?
You'll find out soon!