Chapter 1822 - Ch: 22-24

Chapter 22

Knight Takes Rook

Harry awoke on the couch in the cold common room early the next morning. It had been eight years since he had slept in the Gryffindor dorms, and not only was he forced to sleep alone again, he had to deal with four other males filling the air with their snoring. Neville's a nice guy, but Merlin can he give Ron a run for his money when it comes to noise level, he thought as he shifted into a more comfortable position. He had finally given up sleeping in his four-poster as an impossible task at three o'clock or so, hence why he was in the common room.

Not the best rest I've ever gotten, that's for sure, but there's no point going back to sleep. I'll just wait for Mione and Luna to wake up so we can get to work.

"Harry?" a familiar voice asked. He lifted his head to look at his lover. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Couldn't stand the snores."

Hermione nodded sympathetically. "Lavender and Parvati were up gossiping half the night. Sophie tried to get them to quiet down, but she was obviously less than effective."

"Who?" he asked, trying to recall a face to go with that name. "I don't remember anyone named Sophie."

She huffed and shook her head. "Honestly, Harry? It's not like we didn't share classes with her for six years. Sophie Roper, short brunette, baby-blue eyes, sat at the table next to ours in Potions every year?"

"Not ringing any bells."

"Anyway, McGonagall chose her to be the prefect after I turned the position down. I honestly don't understand what that woman's doing. Yes, I told her to find someone as undeserving as Ron, but I never thought she'd actually go through with it! Sophie's a wallflower; I don't think I heard her start a dozen conversations the entire time we were in school."

Harry shrugged, unsure of what he could add. "What's done is done. Do you want to stay around here for a while longer or get a head start on Rookwood's place?"

"Let's get it over with. Do you have any idea where Luna is at the moment? It wouldn't be right to leave her here while we pull this job."

"I'll check." Pulling the Marauders' Map out of his pocket, he activated it without removing his wand's tip from the parchment. "Encuentras Luna Lovegood." The Map rustled before expanding on its own, excess material folding neatly at the edges. After a look at the swarm of jostling black dots, he cleared it with a muttered 'Mischief managed'. "She's in the kitchens. Shall we?"

The trip down was uneventful, not overly surprising since the sun had risen only a few minutes earlier. When they approached a painting depicting a bowl of fruit, he reached up and quickly tickled the pear, and it squirmed before becoming a doorknob. Luna was easy to find once they entered; she was sitting at a table in the middle of the room, her head resting on the wooden surface while her hand gripped a steaming mug.

"I was wondering when I'd see you two today," she greeted as they sat next to her. She lifted her head and yawned. "How were your nights?"

"Fine, but what happened to you?" Hermione asked in concern. "You look exhausted."

Luna sighed, a faint smile on her lips. "I think I was a little too clever for my own good. During dinner, several of the other Ravenclaws got an early start on their normal game of 'Let's Laugh at Loony Lovegood', so I waited until Flitwick's normal first-of-the-year speech to pull Clyde out of his box. I may have underestimated just how many people would want to examine him."

"Let me guess… all of them?" Harry asked, his worry having dispersed at her explanation.

"It sure seemed like it. After they determined that he wasn't conjured, transfigured, a golem of some kind, or a necromantic construct — and yes, one of the seventh years did know a charm to check for that, though I have no idea what a 'zombie apocalypse'is supposed to be — the first and second years wanted to pet him while the rest of the House pestered me with every question they could think of about his behavior, dietary needs, reproductive habits, and sleep patterns. Flitwick even asked if I would permit them to observe him for a year as a House research project!"

"Will you?"

"I'm not sure, Mione," the blonde said after a moment of thought. "On the one hand, I could use the data they collect to write the articles for my new column, leaving me more time to spend with you two. On the other…" She frowned. "I don't like the way Chang or her boot-lickers were glaring at me last night. After all, I just proved three years of their taunts to be nothing more than ignorant drivel; I really don't want to give them the chance to hurt him."

Harry and Hermione frowned as they thought. Finally, the brunette suggested, "If you do decide to let the other Claws watch him, why not ward a section of the common room so that no human but you can go there? That way he has a safe place to run to if he feels threatened."

"Except then he would never leave that corner. He's very shy."

"It's a start, though," he said. His eyebrows shot up as an idea came to him. "Luna, what about giving him a portkey?"

Luna quirked an eyebrow. "Would that work?"

"Well, the wards on the school only block people coming in; anyone who knows the spell can leave with one. Remove the 'notice me' charm on his collar, turn it into a portkey set to your home in case someone hurts him, then reapply the original charm and, I don't know, maybe a Repello Inimicum to keep away anyone who wishes him harm."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Just how did you learn so much about Hogwarts's wards, Mr. Potter?"

"Ah, well, er…" He looked anywhere but her as he gave up and muttered, "Hogwarts, A History. I got bored one day after working on the house."

She leapt from her seat. "Hah, I knew it! All this time, you had read it but kept making fun of me!"

"I wasn't making fun of you for reading the book," he rejoined. "I was mocking your obsession with it."

"I am not obsessed."

He looked at her from over his glasses. "Hermione, you spent nearly eighty galleons in an auction buying a thirtieth edition from the sixteenth century. When the latest one was published, you were at Flourish and Blott's two hours before they opened and almost ripped off the shopkeeper's fingers when he didn't hand it over fast enough for you. Yes, my dear, you are very much obsessed, but we love you anyway."

"Indeed we do." Luna drained her mug and handed it to a passing elf. "Well, what are we still doing around here? Time's a' wasting."

For all Hogwarts's claims as the 'safest place in Britain', the time-traveling trio had little difficulty sneaking out from within its walls.

Harry held his hand up, stopping the girls as they followed him through the narrow tunnel to Hogsmeade guarded by the one-eyed crone's statue. He whispered, "The ward boundaries are just ahead, but there's too much interference for me to check for more monitoring charms."

"Switch," Luna said just as quietly, sidling closer even as he moved backwards against the rough wall. She touched her wandtip to her temple. "A host of siege wards, anti-transport, Unplottable, Muggle-deceiving… Okay, I see them; eavesdropping on the left and proximity on the right, both a meter farther down. Fire on my mark."

Harry and Hermione raised their wands and aimed at the walls of the tunnel. At the blonde's soft 'Now', they silently cast finishing charms at their unseen targets. They paused a beat as Luna watched. "Harry, a couple of degrees down. Mione, just a smidgeon more left. Again." She smiled and pulled her wand from her head. "And there we go."

"Wonderful," he said as they walked the ten feet necessary to pass the wardline; now they could leave and arrive without any hint of their activities reaching Dumbledore. Picking up a stone, he waved his wand over it and incanted, "Portus. While you two were on vacation, I spent a couple of hours in the Ministry's Hall of Records looking up coordinates for as many of the homes we want to hit as I could find. Luckily, Rookwood's place was one of them."

His lovers nodded and laid their hands on the rock. Grimacing, Harry tapped it with his wand, causing the familiar yet still unpleasant sensation of his guts being ripped out through his navel. He had never liked portkeys; not only were they nauseating, he associated them with the bad memories of Voldemort's resurrection and Sirius's death. He much preferred flying or Apparating, but the first method would take far too long while the second required having been at the destination before, so whirling like a top it was.

At least it wasn't the Floo. He still hadn't found a way to avoid being shot out like a cannon.

They slammed into the ground heavily, taking a moment to calm their stomachs. Looking at their surroundings, Hermione turned to him. "Despite his name, I don't think Rookwood lived in the trees, and if he did, I doubt he has anything we want to steal."

"I brought us a klick east of his manor," he replied as he climbed to his feet before offering the others a hand. "Figured it was better to have a bit of a walk than randomly bounce off his wards or, even worse, land in the middle of a deathtrap like the Lestranges'."

The brunette winced and nodded; she had heard about his and Luna's trip to that property. Blowing themselves up would be a terrible way to start the day.

The trees thinned out as they walked, and five minutes later, the magesight charm on his glasses showed him the snowy dome denoting their target peeking over a hill. He pointed and said, "Almost there. Just a short jaunt that way." Another ten minutes elapsed before they could see the mansion itself.

"Of all the houses we've hit, I have to say I like this one the most," Hermione remarked. Harry nodded in agreement; the ivy covering the warm red brick and the wide-open lawn lent it a welcoming facade and gave no hint that it belonged to a genocidal sociopath. "Hopefully his good taste extends to the interior, too."

They continued their trek, growing more careful as they came closer. He took his mirror earring, space-expanded sack, and the roll of wardpicks he had earlier requested Dobby bring him out of his pockets and put the earring on. "So… who's doing what?"

Hermione shrugged. "Luna will examine the wards, I'll knock out the ones I know the counters for, and you use the picks and wardtap. I suppose the last is in your bag?" She smiled when he reached in and pulled out the device. "Excellent. Luna, if you would be so kind? We have a murdering sack of shite to plunder."

"I love it when you talk dirty," Luna said in a faux-sultry growl. She returned her wand to her head. "First up is a Cornish Apparation ward, followed by Muggle-repelling and a 'trust-me' ward. That's what, four for six in having at least one kind of mental inhibition ward?"

"At least we know that dark wizards don't trust each other any more than they do the rest of us," he laughed.

Hermione shook her head fondly at their tomfoolery and wove her wand in a graceful dance. Ward-breaking as a whole didn't rely on incantations; his girls' research in the previous timeline had found that the wand motions countered the runes on the wardstone and gradually introduced increasing interference into the entire system. After enough runes were negated, the ward would naturally collapse under its own weight. If they were part of a full curse-breaker team, there would be several other people around the boundary to stabilize the structure while she worked so she could nullify the entire script and prevent rebound, but they weren't. This setup would have to do.

A flash of white blinded him as the ward failed. He pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes rapidly; when he replaced them, he spotted an old man hobbling out of the house. "Er, Mione? Don't look now, but I think I may have accidentally brought us to the wrong place."

"Oh, this is going to be awk — move!" She and Luna leapt out of the path of the pale green curse streaking through where they had been standing a moment before. "No, we're in the right place. Who else besides Death Eaters or their sympathizers uses the Killing Curse as soon as they see visitors?!"

Harry ducked behind the thick marble wall Hermione conjured. "Well, this makes things more difficult. Do you think there's anyone else inside the house?"

"Doubtful, they'd have come out and started helping him already."

He took a deep breath and let it out, forcing himself to just not thinkabout the curses hitting the wall, the stone crumbling, the danger they were in. A crisp flick of his wand conjured a metal spike a foot long and bearing a sharp point. Grabbing it with his free hand, he concentrated and quietly Apparated to the side of the property, just outside the wardline. The old man was too busy flinging Unforgivable after Unforgivable at the damaged wall to notice, giving Harry a clean view of his back. He aimed the spike at their attacker through the now-pale-yellow haze of the defenses, pointed his wand at the rear of the weapon, and shouted, "Depulso!"

The elder Pureblood turned around just in time to catch the projectile with his chest.

"He's down!" Harry called even as he kept his wand directed at the body. It wouldn't be the first time he had been in a fight where one of his enemies had waited at Death's door just long enough to launch a final attack.

His watchfulness proved to be for the best; only a few seconds later, a soft pop heralded the arrival of a house elf. The elf looked at its master for a few moments, looked at him, looked back the old man, and nonchalantly shrugged its shoulders before jerking one ear painfully. Obviously the Rookwoods didn't treat the help any better than the Malfoys had.

"Excuse me," he called, catching the elf's attention. "Is he still alive?"

The elf nodded.

"Could you put him in stasis, please? I promise to make it worth your while." The elf nodded its head again and snapped its fingers, causing a blue sheen to coat the man. Harry smiled. "Thank you! We'll be there in a few minutes."

"Just what are you planning, Harry Potter?" Hermione panted as she and Luna came running up to him. She held out his bag and tools.

He just smirked before taking them and selecting the wardpick for the Muggle-repelling ward. This was one ward that they wouldn't mind leaving up, but so long as it was active, they couldn't get to anything behind it. That was one advantage of using a pick; because it only disabled wards for a short time, they could break the defenses they didn't want and keep those they did.

Channeling some magic through the enchanted sliver of copper, he moved it towards the ward until he felt resistance. He brushed the surface of the ward with the pick, and his magesight showed the ward flicker briefly before returning to its normal state. Scraping this time caused the flicker to last longer; a third stroke, and the ward faded entirely. "Muggle-repelling's down. Can you counter the next one, or do I need to set the tap?"

"I can handle this one. Luna, anything I should watch out for behind it?"

"Nope, just a metamorph-reverting ward," the blonde replied with a grin after recasting the magesight charm. "Hit it, baby."

Contrary to their expectations, breaking down Rookwood's wards took longer than expected. Through either typical wizarding stupidity or an incredible display of common sense, there were a large number of redundancies built into the scheme. Three portkey, two mind-weakening, four lethal, and a grand total of six different Apparation wards; it was far and away the best defended manor they had come across. Finally, though, Hermione broke the last barrier. "Alright, we can step over the property line without having our brains vanished to the Ministry. On the bright side, we now know where the Department of Mysteries got the ones in their tank."

"Wonderful," Harry said. He walked to the pair on the lawn, then knelt in front of the small being. "Hello, my good elf. Might I have your name?"

The elf blushed fiercely and in a squeaky voice answered, "Floppy, sir." She — Harry knew this only thanks to his recent exposure to Winky — lowered her eyes and shyly toyed with the tassels of the curtain she used as a toga. "How can Floppy be of service to sir and madams?"

"Well, you can answer a question for me first," he replied in a gentle tone. She looked up warily. "Do you honestly like working for the Rookwoods?"

Floppy violently shook her head before reaching up with both hands and wrenching her namesake ears. Scowling at the Rookwood by his feet so he wouldn't distress the little elf, he asked, "What if I could offer you a way out? Would you take it, even if it meant being given clothes?" He glanced at her again, and the pitiful, pleading gaze he got was answer enough.

"Hermione, Luna, get a couple of feet behind Floppy and be ready to remove the stasis charm. Floppy, I'm going to free you, but first I need to memory charm you to protect our identities, okay?"

The elf turned big eyes on him. "Yous can memory charm house elves?"

"Yep. Now, go ahead and take a last look at your soon-to-be ex-master." He rounded behind her and aimed his wand. "Mione, lift the charm. Obliviate. Imperio."

Floppy shook her head, then stared at the old man. "Master Julius? Whats you doing on the ground?"

Give Floppy your slipper. Free her.

"Floppy," the now-named Julius croaked. "Hand me my slipper." Once she had done that, he thrust it roughly back into her hands. "You are no longer my elf. Get out of my sight."

She raised the fuzzy red slipper to eye-level. "Floppy… Floppy is free." Turning to her former master, she leaned over and slapped him across the face with his own shoe. "Floppy been wanting to do that for years," she cheered joyfully. With a loud snap, the house elf was gone.

Harry smiled and turned around, only for Hermione's haughty expression to wipe the look off his face. He sighed. "I know you want to. Just go ahead and say it."

"I told you. I told you! ElevenMerlin-be-damned YEARS I've been saying that there were other house elves who wanted to be free, that Dobby wasn't a once in a lifetime freak occurrence, and guess what? There are!" Her arms shot into the sky, and she screamed to the heavens, "Vindication is mine!"

He groaned. "Yes, yes, we were wrong, you were right. Woo-hoo." Under his breath, he muttered, "SPEW was still a terrible name."

"Care to repeat that, Harry?"

"Nope!" He pulled Luna in between himself and the growling brunette. Hermione was generally less likely to maul him if she had to go through the other girl first. "Shouldn't we get started on robbing the place?"

"Yes, we probably should. I'll still get you back for that comment about S.P.E.W., though."

Luna cleared her throat, interrupting their banter. "Not to be a, er, nudge, but what do we do about him?" She pointed over his shoulder at the wheezing Rookwood.

"Put him back in stasis," Harry said immediately.

Hermione looked askance at him. "Why? Let's just let him die. No muss, no fuss."

He walked over to the downed figure and ripped away the left sleeve of his robe. The hated skull and snake stared back at them. "It shows up pitch black with magesight, even through the other charms on these clothes, which means it's bloody strong. Even after two wars, we still have no idea what all the Dark Mark is capable of; is Voldemort alerted when a Death Eater dies? With nothing else keeping him busy at the moment, will he come to investigate why one of his unknown henchmen was killed? If we lay a stasis charm on Rookwood, on the other hand, we can take it off and kill him on our way out of here, protecting us from any consequences that we don't know about."

"Good point." Once Hermione placed the man in suspension, they made their way to the open door of the manor. "Split up and take everything that isn't nailed down just like the other times?"

"Sounds good. Paired Potter pretties," Luna added, using the phrase that automatically linked all three mirror earrings. With a bright smile, she skipped past the stairwell to the rear of the ground floor.

Harry gave Hermione his own grin. "I take first floor, you take second?"

"Fine by me."

"Kafsi velakia." Ten heads turned at the words, only to catch facefuls of flame. They screamed as best they could before being reduced to ash.

Harry calmly followed his Firebird Volley hex into the sitting room, surveying the destroyed portraits. The last thing he and the girls needed was some long-dead ancestor having another frame to run to and alerting their enemies about their actions. He summoned and bagged the gold frames, then did the same with the furniture. "You know, we need to come up with some disguises now that we're going to be raiding occupied houses."

"Copy that, love," Luna replied. "Do you have any ideas?"

He thought quietly for a moment. "If we only used glamours or transfiguration, a lucky hit or even the ambient magic should we need to fight our way out could dispel it and reveal our identities. What about an outfit of some kind, something to cover us almost entirely, possibly charmed to be unsummonable and to hide what the little skin we'll show really looks like?"

"That could work. I say we stitch a few runes into the fabric to keep them from being torn, as well. Actually, there's a couple of spell formulae that were discussed in my apprenticeship that I've been meaning to try out; this sounds like the perfect opportunity."

"Maybe you should take charge of the project, then."

"I guess I so, might even be rather fun. Which color would you prefer for your robe, heliotrope or mauve?" He spluttered, eliciting a giggle from the blonde. "Joking, joking. There you are! Harry, I just found the Rookwoods' Gringotts key, so don't worry about combing through the house looking for it. Anything interesting on your end?"

"Not yet. So far it looks like the first floor was the real 'family area'. Let me check this one." He opened the door in front of him and sighed. "No, another old nursery."

A loud shout interrupted their conversation. "Luna, Harry, get your butts up here!"

Harry was off like a shot, sprinting down the long hall to the stairs. Throwing a hand out, he latched onto the banister and swung around it to preserve his momentum as he headed higher. Pounding steps below indicated Luna was not far behind him.

The two took only a minute to find Hermione. She was in the middle of a large — and empty, he noted — library, sheets of parchment gripped tightly in her hands as she read furiously. Seeing that she was unharmed, Harry scowled. "You better not have scared us like that just because you found some rare book."

"It's rare, all right, but it's not a book." The brunette turned to them and waved the parchment. "Say whatever you want about little Gusty, but he was a meticulous note-taker. These," she laid the sheets on a desk almost completely covered in dust and said notes, "are all from the Ministry. Research, blueprints, ward schemes, blackmail, high-profile individuals' routines; I think Voldemort was preparing for a full take-over before he came after you in '81."

His eyes widened. "Okay, I'm sorry for blowing up at you. This is a real gold mine. What was he researching while on the clock?"

She snickered at that. "That's an ironic choice of words. It looks like his main focus was time, though he also did a stint in the Prophecy Room in late '80; my guess is that he was trying to get to the rest of the prophecy. The reason I called you over, though, is because I now know what convinced Voldemort to go from hiding from faeries to hunting them."

"The Unspeakables are studying the Fae?" Luna gasped, racing over and digging through the pile.

"They had been, but not since 1957. Apparently, someone got the bright idea to try stealing faery powers, only to be tracked down and, for lack of a better word, mutilated in his office by the Winter Lady a week later."

Winter Lady, Winter Lady, why is that name so familiar? Harry racked his brain for a moment before finding the relevant memory. "Wait, the same faery whose death prompted Lilith to bring us to this timeline?"

"Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner," Hermione commented dryly. "The Department at the time hypothesized that the Winter Lady was the Queen's chief enforcer, tasked with protecting the other faeries by any means necessary. Of course, it was just a theory; no one wanted to put their neck on the line and test it."

He rolled his eyes. "Gee, I wonder why not."

"Does it really matter at the moment?" Luna asked, summoning all the parchment as well as the desk into her bottomless bag. "Was there anywhere else you haven't gone on this floor, Mione? I'm done downstairs."

"Me, too," he added.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I decided I had better save the library for last. I, um, figured you'd have to come rescue me when it was time to go." Both of her lovers grinned at her blush. Harry wrapped one arm around her shoulders, then his other around Luna, and together the three of them descended the stairs.

The blonde stopped as they reached the foyer. "Hold up, I need to leave our calling card. Relinquo nostri signum," she incanted, swirling her wand at the left wall. "Well? What do you think?"

Harry looked up and down at it. The image was rather simple, just a black hood seen at an oblique angle. Sticking out was a red, furry muzzle bearing a foxy grin; as he examined it, he could swear the hairs were moving slightly. After a moment, the fox's lips twitched, widening the smirk a touch before it returned to normal. "This is the same style as your painting in the Rook, isn't it?"

She clapped her hands and nodded. "Yes it is. Like it?" She gazed up at him with her silver eyes.

"Love it."

Hermione nodded with a smile. Her efforts appreciated, Luna pulled them out the front door.

"Oh, yeah," he said as they spotted the body still lying on the lawn. "I totally forgot about him."

Luna pursed her lips in thought. "We could always transfigure him into dog treats and feed him to some strays. That'd be an appropriate end, don't you think?"

"That pun was truly awful," Hermione groaned.

"Yes, it really did stink."

"Harry! Don't encourage her!"

He laughed as he walked to Julius Rookwood. "You two go ahead; I'll catch up in a second." Twin cracks sounded behind him, then he squatted to look the old man in the eyes, his smile replaced by a deathly serious mien. "I know you can't hear or see a thing like this, but I thought I'd give you a heads up anyway. When you arrive in Hell, stick around for a bit; we'll be sending Augustus and all your little friends to join you soon enough."

Standing, he pointed his wand at Rookwood's neck. "Diffindo." A moment later, the only moving thing there was a severed head rolling towards the house.

The bit with memory charming house elves is pure Black Comedy. That story's likely to be referenced throughout this fic.

Chapter 23

Attitude Adjustment

"Well, that's it for the easy jobs," Harry said as the door to the Room of Requirement faded away behind him. Hermione and Luna had already seated themselves on a circular couch, the same one the Room had created before they had left for their summer vacation. "Five empty manors and one occupied solely by an old man. From now on, we're going to have to be extremely careful on our heists in terms of both hiding our identities and protecting ourselves from unseen spells should we get caught redhanded again. If Rookwood had ambushed us rather than attacking head-on, we might not have walked out of there alive."

"I thought being careful went without saying considering we're dealing with a band of terrorists," commented Hermione.

"Better to say it unnecessarily than assume it's understood and be wrong." Luna scooted over to give him room to sit between the girls, then cuddled into him. She continued, "I thought a little about possible disguises, and I was wondering if either of you would mind them being made of silk? It's lightweight, and Acromantula silk has a decent magical resistance. Dragonhide would be better from a defensive standpoint, but lining our robes with that would be expensive even with our resources, not to mention illegal since we're not Ministry personnel."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "What about making liners from basilisk scales? It's not like we don't have enough of it lying around." Her smile dropped at Luna's guffaw.

"Basilisk? Seriously? Mione, basilisks aren't hard to kill with magic because their hide is especially resistant, but because it's so thick. Think of it as quality versus quantity. Dragons have to be light enough to fly, so having very resistant scales means they don't need particularly thick skin. Giant snakes, however, don't have that problem; from the way Harry described it, Salazar's familiar probably had hide a good foot thick. If we made armor from that had even the resistance of silk, it would be so bulky we could never walk in it."

"Moving on," Harry interjected when Hermione's face reddened in embarrassment. "The defensive properties of whatever disguises we choose will be less important than hiding who we are. We can dodge curses, but we can't risk exposing ourselves."

"Very true. So yes to the silk idea?"

He nodded. "We also need to perform surveillance on our targets from now on. I know this timeline has been very similar to our own so far, but between Greengrass being a guy and another Rookwood living in the house, it's clear that there are some differences. Next time we get caught with our pants around our ankles because of an assumption, there might be more serious consequences than just one old man throwing curses at us. We have a time turner, so if we coordinate properly, we should all be able to ride it backwards and observe the families to make sure we have our information straight."

"Hold that thought, Harry," Hermione said. She turned to Luna. "Could you pull Rookwood's desk out of your sack? I want to check something."

Luna summoned the desk from her extended-space bag, and the two girls began rifling through drawers. After a few seconds, Hermione moved back with a smile; the reason was apparent as she displayed the tiny hourglass filled with red sand. "Just as I suspected. With all the extracurricular research he did for Voldemort in addition to his real work, he had to have one of these, so we have two time turners to use."

"Perfect," Harry replied with a grin. "I think we should leave them both in the Manor and just call an elf when we need one; that way we won't run the risk of them being found and 'confiscated'."

"Good point, love. Dobby?" She knelt on the floor when the devoted elf popped in, the two now at eye-level. "Could you take this back home with you and put it with the other one?"

"Dobby can do that, Missy Hermy Grangy ma'am," Dobby said, causing Harry to choke down his laughter. He had completely forgotten about that order, but he was ever so glad his loyal manservant hadn't. The gobsmacked look on Hermione's face was priceless!

Now I just need to buy or steal a camera and a pensieve to take a photo of this, and I'll be set. Too bad we couldn't bring our photo album back with us.

The brunette flushed. "Please don't call me that, Dobby. Hermione is fine."

"Dobby be sorry, Missy Hermy Grangy ma'am, but Master Harry says you can't bes changing it." Oblivious to the girl's pink cheeks turning red with outrage, Dobby disappeared. Luna glanced between her two lovers and darted off the couch to the other half of the room before Harry could reach out to pull her between them again.

Hermione grinned nastily. "So, Master Harry, would you mind explaining that very interesting comment Dobby made?"

"Er, well… Merlin's shorts, is that a first edition copy of Hogwarts, A History?" He pointed behind her; when she whipped around, he leapt over the back of the couch.

Hermione's eyes blazed when they returned to him. Striving to bore a hole in his conjured wall with her glare alone, she snapped, "Dammit Luna, stop laughing!"

"I can't help it," the blonde wheezed through her giggles. "I mean, you actually fell for that! I saw it with my own two eyes, and I still can't believe it!"

The incurable bookworm of the trio turned her burning gaze on Luna for a moment before sighing. "I truly, seriously hate you both. There are days I wonder why I didn't just run to Australia with my parents when I had the chance." She dropped back to the couch with a huff of indignation.

"Because as much as we can irritate you — intentionally or not — you love us too much to ever really hate us," he rejoined, dismissing his barrier and joining her. A long moment passed before she relented and leaned into him. "You know we're only taking the mickey out of you, just like with my little prank with Dobby."

"It's not as funny when it's me he's giving the long title to."

"I disagree, but I know what you mean. I'll tell Dobby to go back to calling you 'Missy Hermy'."

A pop sounded in front of them, and from empty air they heard the elf's voice saying, "Yes, Master Harry."

Harry blinked in surprise, a move mimicked by his lovers. "Well, that's different." He and Hermione looked to Luna for an explanation, but the former-now-current Ravenclaw simply shook her head.

"I'm not an expert on house elves; this is just as surprising to me as it is to you. Maybe they always keep one ear on their masters so they can hear when they're called?" she volunteered weakly.

"Only one way to find out. How right is she, Dobby?"

Another pop. "Missy Lunie be very wise." Harry smiled, his mind whirling with possibilities.

"You know, why don't we ask him and Winky to do some of the reconnaissance?" Hermione wondered out loud. "It could give them a break from repairing the Manor."

"Good idea. Dobby, you and Winky watch the Greengrass family for the next couple of weeks and record their schedules as best you can. If either of you think you're in danger, leave there immediately and report to one of us as soon as we're alone." There was no response, so Harry turned to the girls. "Neither of you have a problem robbing them next, do you?"

Twin feral grins were his only answer.

Luna entered the Ravenclaw common room to find it a beehive of activity. Actually, that was insulting and completely untrue, now that I think about it; bees may be busy, but their frenzy is at least organized and purposeful. Snagging the sleeve of an older student, she asked, "What's got everyone in such a tizzy?"

The boy looked slightly down at her and blanched. "Um, Cho and her bunch broke into your room about fifteen minutes ago. A couple of seconds later they started screaming, and some people went up to help them while others ran to Professor Flitwick." He dropped his eyes at her glare.

"So, you're saying that Chang's bitches decided to go through my things — again — and no one tried to stop them? That's the gist of it, right?" She stomped to the stairs. "Gryffindors may charge in without a plan, but at least they take action rather than standing around like spineless cowards!"

All the gormless spectators standing in the hallway scurried to the walls as she strode past, her face frozen in a stony expression none of them had ever seen before. The Ravenclaw dormitories were organized so all students had their own small, private room, probably to prevent each students' ever-growing book collection from spilling into another's space. Following the plaques on the doors, Luna threw open the one that had her name on it and stalked inside.

Three girls were hanging upside down in midair, short arcs of lightning flitting about their robes and skin. She had to work hard at suppressing the malicious smile that threatened to spill out as her tormentors spasmed from the constant shocks. "Couldn't even go a full twenty-four hours, could you? Practically as soon as I've left the dorms, you're trying to steal my belongings. The problem, girls, is that you are predictable. Well, childish and stupid, too, but predictable is more relevant at the moment."

"Ms. Lovegood?" She turned her attention to the diminutive professor standing only a few feet from her. "Would you mind letting them down? I have already tried to remove the spells on them, but something is interfering."

"I do mind, actually. She and her cronies have been hiding my things throughout the castle for three years now; I think I'm entitled to a little payback."

"Ms. Lovegood…"

"Fine, fine." She walked to the foot of the bed where her trunk lay and tapped a brass plate above the lock with her wand. Immediately the Ankle Noose and Static Cling hexes ended, dropping the three bullies onto their heads; since their bodies were still stiff, all they could do was moan. Luna smirked as she tucked the ebony focus behind her ear.

Flitwick sighed. "Was that really necessary?"

"You said to let them down, I let them down. That you failed to specify exactly how I should do so is your fault."

"You cannot take justice into your own hands, Ms. Lovegood. If Ms. Chang or her friends have been stealing from you, you should have come to me so we could sort it out."

"Like that would have really helped," she rejoined. "I had no proof that she had done anything, so it would be my word against hers. Every single person in this House has, at one point or another, made it clear that they would take her side over mine, so even if I had caught her redhanded, she would have a cast-iron alibi. No, it's better that I deal with this in my own way; at least now I can be sure that anyone else trying to cause me problems will have a reason not to."

Before Flitwick could say anything more, she levitated the three other girls and guided them down the hallway. A flick of her wand dropped them in the middle of the common room. "For all who think to continue the delightful little tradition of making my life here a living hell, I'm going to give you a quick word of warning. These idiots tried to break into my trunk; they'll probably stop shaking in a couple of hours and regain the ability to walk a few after that. The next person who tries it will need to be carried to Madam Pomfrey for help. The person after that will spend quite a bit of time in St. Mungo's Spell Damage Ward.

"I don't think I need to elaborate on what will happen to the fourth person who messes with my things. Suffice it to say that there won't be much left for the Healers to work with," she hissed. She waded into the mass of first and second years to reclaim her snorkack from the arms of a wide-eyed little girl. Walking back up the stairs, she turned around and surveyed the silent room. "And just so you know, tampering with the wards on my trunk in an attempt to bypass them will automatically activate them at a lethal level. I was your punching bag for years, but no longer; now I'm looking forward to doing some punching of my own."

She addressed the professor again as she passed him. "I don't have an answer for you just yet about whether the House can observe Clyde. Part of it will be based on how many geniuses I have to scrape off the walls in the next week or two." With that, she stomped to her room and slammed the door.

Did they really think I'd let five years of their taunting slide, even if they only remember three of those years?, she thought darkly as she stroked her pet's side. Not a chance, boys and girls. You owe me quite a few pounds of flesh.

Harry dropped onto the bench running along one side of the Gryffindor table in the Great hall. He, Hermione, and Luna had spent the weekend trying to re-acclimate themselves to being around a swarm of irrational adolescents, but they soon discovered that it was pointless. Whether it was the ten-year age difference with the accompanying life experience, the two wars they had fought in stripping away their innocence, or some other factor they couldn't think of, there was no way the trio would be able to reconnect with their 'contemporaries' in any meaningful way.

It was probably a good thing they never planned to blend in with the crowd. Hide their true knowledge and abilities, yes; pretend to care about teenage drama, no.

"Cheer up," Luna remarked as she sat on his right side and Hermione slumped into his left, still half asleep. "Today's just going to massively suck."

"You and I clearly have different definitions for 'cheer up'," he half-joked. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he continued, "I remember this year, and Mondays were truly awful." Binns, Snape, Trelawney, and then Umbridge; just how he wanted to start off his week.

She snorted and replied at the same volume. "I might have you beat in that department." The schedule she laid on the table was already color-coded, and she tapped a finger against the two blocks at the end of the day highlighted in red. "I finished three of four years for my Spell-Crafting Mastery, remember? Do you think I want to return to basic Arithmancy? Even worse, Vector pays too much attention to her students for me to just bring in a book. I am going to be bored out of my skull."

He nodded; looking at it from that perspective, her day would be horrid, too, only in a different way. The classes he would attend were below his level, certainly, but he had never pursued a Mastery, in fact hadn't technically finished Hogwarts. His last act of formal education had been to take a single NEWT, mostly for Hermione's peace of mind. To minimize stress, he had chosen Defense Against the Dark Arts.

It should go without saying that he aced the exam.

"Harry!"

He turned at the call and spotted a tall girl with chocolate skin hurrying his way. "Angelina. What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"Do you need the same lecture I gave Fred and George a couple of years ago about disrespecting a girl's underwear?" she shot back with a smile. "In all seriousness, though, I do need to talk to you."

"Pull up a seat, then, and lay your problems on dear old Uncle Harry."

She did so, thanking Luna when the blonde passed her a goblet of juice. "You probably don't know it, but McGonagall made me Quidditch captain."

"I suspected that would be the case. You're the oldest and most senior of us, after all."

"Yes I am, and don't you forget it. Anyway, we need a new Keeper now that Oliver's left. Tryouts are on Friday at five o'clock, and I want the whole team there, all right? That way we can see how the new person will fit in."

"Friday at five, got it." He paused as he remembered who had won the position last time. "Any idea who will show up? I expect someone's said something about it already."

The older girl grimaced. "Cormac McLaggen is the only one I know of for now; he heard me talking to Alicia about it this morning. I hope he doesn't make it, though. He's an absolute prat and a complete braggart."

"Then don't put him on the team. If he's going to clash with everyone else, it doesn't matter how well he performs. Besides," he grinned, "normally those who brag about themselves all the time don't have the skills to back it up."

Angelina laughed and departed. After a few moments, Hermione, her eyes still closed, offered quietly, "I could take care of McLaggen if you'd like? I doubt he'll be any harder to confound than he was sixth year."

"Don't worry about it," he replied. "I'm not planning to miss the tryouts this time. There's no way I'm going to spend any more time with Ron than necessary, even if that means rigging the system."

Said boy chose that moment to enter the hall. Spotting them, he hustled over, ignorant of the puddle of pumpkin juice in his path. He set his foot square in it and slipped, spinning him around so that he slammed face-first into a golden plate on the table with a cringe-worthy crack before continuing to the cobblestone floor. The Slytherins laughed uproariously, and there was a smattering of chuckles from the other three Houses as well.

Luna blinked twice in surprise. "You know, as long as the Dire Misfortune Curse is still on him by then, I don't think you'll need to do anything else."

"Settle down," Snape said with a sneer, shutting the door behind him.

Harry fought his snort down. Looking at the situation from an adult's perspective, it was easy to see that Severus Snape was not just a bully; he was a pompous drama queen, a full-blown diva. He liked to swish around the dungeons like they were his private fiefdom, terrifying little children to prove to himself that he had some kind of power. When he wasn't doing that, he boosted his ego by portraying his spying as the feat of some tragic hero to the Order. This was, of course, if he could spare some time from satisfying his grudge against a man dead for a decade and a half by hurling degradation against that man's son, the child of the woman Snape was obsessed with.

One couldn't view another's memories without learning something about him, and sorting through Snape's during the Battle of Hogwarts had left Harry nauseous. That Dumbledore knew all this and still trusted Snape meant he could not be trusted himself. The old man was either senile, evil, or just plain crazy.

Harry personally preferred option d, all of the above.

Still, he listened to the bat's speech, waiting for a moment perfect for some derogatory comment of his own.

"Before we begin today's lesson, I think it appropriate to remind you that next June, you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions." All of which we taught ourselves, because you certainly can't, Harry thought acerbically. "Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'acceptable' in your OWL, or suffer my… displeasure." The pallid man looked pointedly at Neville, who gulped in fear.

Leaning closer to Hermione, Harry whispered loudly, "You'd think a student's boggart being a teacher would be considered a sign that something was very wrong here." She nodded in agreement.

Snape's nostrils flared as he overheard them, not that they had taken any pains to avoid that. "After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me. I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye." His glare turned to Harry, and his lip curled into another sneer.

Refusing to miss this opportunity, Harry just smiled back brightly and waved his fingers up and down in a childish 'bye-bye' gesture.

"Potter! Twenty points from Gryffindor for your insolence!"

"Wow," he stage-whispered to his lover, "when's the last time he took points from me without me having to open my mouth?"

"Hmm… the final Potions class of last year, I think," she replied with a faux-thoughtful frown, complete with a finger tapping her chin.

He sighed. "Oh, not as impressive as I hoped."

"Another fifty points from both of you!"

"Thank you, sir!" Hermione cheered. "I don't think I've ever gotten fifty points in one go before."

"Er, Hermione, he was taking points, not giving them," Lavender breathed from the table behind them.

"We know," he said, "but since it's physically impossible for him to award points when they're due, we just have to content ourselves with irking him every chance we get."

Snape had turned a puce color that reminded Harry strongly of his dead uncle. Surprisingly, the Death Eater managed to push his fury down and ground out, "Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned; if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients, you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing." He flicked his wand at the blackboard, revealing the directions, all of which were written in a cramped hand. "You have an hour and a half. Well? Get to it!"

Harry rolled his eyes as he gathered ingredients. This potion was not that difficult when allowed time to actually read and understand the recipe, though being capable of ignoring the overgrown bat pacing the room like a rabid dog in a cage helped immensely as well. For all the mystique Snape couched it in, Potions was really little different from cooking, something he had become familiar with when he was six. Had he learned the subject from a different instructor, he likely could have done well and even enjoyed it, but things hadn't turned out like that. Instead of a pleasurable creative outlet, he considered it a chore, one he passed off to Hermione whenever possible since she needed the practice for her Healing Mastery.

"A light silver vapor should now be rising from your potion," Snape called with ten minutes to go.

Harry double-checked his cauldron; the steam was rising in shiny ringlets, and the liquid itself was the palest gold. The potion wasn't perfect — it technically should be so lightly tinted as to appear clear at first glance — but Hermione had once relayed an important lesson she learned from her teacher in the first year of her apprenticeship: perfect potions were naturally most effective, but a dozen good potions were always preferred to a single flawless one. The loss in potency was so small as to be inconsequential from a practical perspective.

Unfortunately, Snape was both a 'perfectionist' and an academic. "Potter, what is this supposed to be?" he asked, ladling a portion out and letting it flow back into the cauldron. The Slytherins in the front of the room looked up; they normally got almost as much of a kick out of Snape denigrating him as the bat himself did.

Too bad only one person present knew the script had changed.

"The Draught of Peace, sir," Harry replied as he resisted rolling his eyes. How are you going to play this, Snape? More importantly, are you ready for the fallout?

Snape sneered. "Tell me, can you read?"

"Considering that I would have been hard-pressed to pass the first four years of Hogwarts without that skill, I certainly hope so."

His dry comment caught Snape by surprise, but the greasy man continued undaunted. "Read the fifth line of the instructions, Potter."

With a sigh, he drew his wand and conjured a light breeze to clear away the multicolored smoke filling the air. "'Finely chop four daisy roots and add them one at a time to the cauldron. Vigorously stir sixteen times widdershins, then bring to a boil.' Out of curiosity, why don't you just say anticlockwise? That would make much more sense to me."

"I am the professor in this classroom, Potter, not you!" Snape spat, sallow face purpling. "Did you do what the directions clearly say to do?!"

He hummed in thought, reviewing his preparations. "The roots could have been a hair smaller, I suppose, but otherwise yes, I did everything according to the instructions."

"If you had done as you were supposed to, your potion would be clear! Evanesco!" The cauldron stood suddenly empty. Snape smirked as the Slytherins laughed. "I guess that means zero marks for today, doesn't it, Potter?"

Contrary to Snape's expectations, Harry grinned back. He turned to his lovely brunette and asked, "Mione, did that potion look acceptable to you?"

She frowned in confusion. "Yes, it was fine. Certainly good enough for passing…" she gasped as she realized where his thoughts were headed, "…for passing your OWLs."

"That's enough for me." He gathered the rest of his materials and beamed at the Death Eater. "You seem to have forgotten, Snape, that the marks you give us don't matter this year. What NEWT classes we qualify for are based entirely on how we do on the exams, which I can almost guarantee won't be monitored by an immature git with a complex about my father. Now, I'm going to be the bigger man today and not curse you like you deserve or call in the life debt you owe my family, but I won't be able to restrain myself forever. A piece of advice: change your attitude, or I'll be more than delighted to change it for you. Shall we, Mione?"

They left to the sounds of snickering, but for the first time in his memory, the Lions were the ones making that noise.

The "Ankle Noose hex" is my name for Levicorpus, if that wasn't clear.

Chapter 24

A Bad Case of the Mondays

His foot tapping impatiently, Harry waited below the trapdoor leading to Trelawney's lair. He and Hermione had met up with Luna in the kitchens for a quick lunch, where he had regaled her with his confrontation with Snape. The blonde had very nearly torn something from laughter; thankfully, a silencing charm kept her giggles from disturbing the castle's house elves.

And kept them from listening in on their own, as well, he considered quietly. No one thinks about them, but I bet the Hogwarts elves constitute a larger portion of Dumbledore's spy network than the portraits do. After all, everyone 'knows' that the paintings report to him and so need to be avoided, but how many times have people held private conversations in a deserted corridor, never realizing that there could have been an elf there with standing orders to report interesting information to the old man?

There was another benefit to eating away from the Great Hall: he wanted to let Snape stew in his own juices for a while. Many times the greasy git had struck Harry as being… not entirely stable, and the longer Snape had to rein in his temper, the more dramatic and violent his reaction would eventually be. Too bad I can't put the confrontation off until tomorrow; that would be even better for my plan. I need him so mad that he can't even see straight. He smiled evilly. Who could have guessed that reading the Hogwarts bylaws out of sheer boredom in the previous timeline would be useful?

A few other students in his year had gathered as he whiled away the time, and when the bell rang, he led the lethargic charge up the silver ladder. Divination had been his second-least favorite class when he first attended school, due mostly to Trelawney's irritating habit of predicting his death at least once a week. A second reason was the large amount of incense she constantly burned inside the stuffy little classroom. Of course, if I drank cooking sherry to sate my raging alcoholism, I'd want to cover the stench with something else, too. He paused for a moment; that thought had almost reminded him of something, but he could not put his finger on exactly what. Shrugging it off, he wended his way through the spindly little tables populating the room to a seat far from the noxious fireplace.

Over the next few minutes, the rest of the class gradually trickled in. He was surprised when Ron chose to sit next to Hannah Abbott; apparently, his new attitude had had more of an effect on the timeline than he expected. The chair across from him was still empty when the trapdoor closed on its own.

"Good day," Trelawney greeted in her normal half-aware manner. "And welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been —"

A knocking on the floor cut her off, and with a frown she walked over and lifted the trapdoor. For the first time in his memory, her voice sounded just like any other professor's. "Ah, Mr. Longbottom, I am glad you finally made it here. Find an empty seat."

"Sorry, Professor," Neville said timidly as he entered. The boy glanced around and veritably scurried over to Harry. "Do you mind?"

He shook his head. Watching Neville set his bag down, he could not help but compare the mousy fifteen year old to the war-hardened man he had grown to be. Okay, now I see Mione's point. Neville needs something to raise his confidence, but without the DA, I have no idea what that could possibly be. Hmm, I'll think on it; after the way he fought by my side through two wars, there's no way I'm going to leave him to flounder about on his own. He tuned back in to hear the last of the professor's speech.

"Turn, please, to the introduction and read what Imago has to say on the matter of dream interpretation. Then, divide into pairs and interpret each other's most recent dreams. Carry on."

The book on the table, The Dream Oracle, was just as boring as it had been in the old timeline, so Harry let his thoughts wander. Not surprisingly, perhaps, they turned to the shawled woman drifting aimlessly about. I truly do not understand. Prophecies exist, and she is a real Seer, yet she doesn't even know it and acts more like a fairground fortune teller than anything else. It makes me wonder if there is any value in teaching a course like this; if Seers can't remember when they make a real prediction, can the Inner Eye even be trained? Is this class a total waste of time? He chuckled lightly, distracting Neville for a moment. Well, is this class a total waste of time for students besides those of us who signed up solely to fill up our second elective, I suppose would be a more accurate phrasing.

When there were only ten minutes left in the period, Neville glanced up from the book. "Have you had any dreams lately?"

"Well, I did have one last night starring a naked Hermione, but I'm pretty sure I know what that means already," he answered with a grin. The other boy's cheeks immediately turned cherry-red. "What about you?"

"There was one I had a few times over the summer, the most recent was… maybe last week? It's really weird."

"Sounds perfect for this assignment. Let's hear it, then."

Neville nodded. "Okay, when it starts, I'm working in our manor's greenhouse like I do a lot over the summers. I get up to wash the mooncalf manure off my hands, and this enormous pair of scissors crashes through one wall. For some reason, it's wearing one of my gran's hats, her favorite one with a stuffed vulture on top. I'm frozen in shock at this point, and it starts cutting up all the plants! First it's the flutterbloom, then the puffapod, then the bird-eating ivy, then —"

"I think I get the point," he cut in, causing the other Gryffindor's mouth to snap closed. More softly, he continued, "Do those plants have any special meaning to you?"

"Yeah, they do. When I was eight or so, I started following our house elf Mossy while he took care of my mum's plants. He taught me a lot about them, and after first year, I kind of took over a corner of the greenhouse for some of the simpler ones, then it just grew out from there. We split the plants between us now when I'm home."

Harry leaned back in his chair and pondered for a minute. "I have an idea what your dream could mean, but I'm not sure you want to hear it."

"May as well tell me," Neville sighed.

"Okay. I think the reason those scissors are wearing your grandmother's hat is that they represent her; you're worried — subconsciously, mind you — that one day she's going to barge in and tear down all you've accomplished. Maybe you're also afraid she will destroy one of the last links you have to your mother, one that's alive and vibrant and about as far removed from St. Mungo's as you can get."

Neville's head shot up as he stared at Harry, his eyes wide. "What… How?"

Oops. I wasn't supposed to know about them yet. Okay, time for damage control. He said gently, "I got curious one day about why you always talked about your gran but never mentioned your parents, so I dug through some old Daily Prophets. An attack on two well-known Aurors by the Lestranges was pretty big news, especially coming so soon after that Halloween."

"And you never said anything to anyone?"

"No. For one, it wasn't my place; I figured you'd talk about it when you felt ready." Neville blushed again at that. "For two, I know how much not having parents sucks, and also how painful it is when someone brings it up. We may not be best mates, but I wasn't going to do that to you. And for three," he sighed, "I was a little jealous."

"Jealous? Why?"

"Because even though they're… how they are, you know where your mum and dad are, you get to visit them. Me, I've never been to my parents' graves; I didn't even know where they were until this summer." Depending on how someone looked at time, Harry realized that could even be considered true. "So yeah, I was jealous. Anyway, that's what I think your dream might mean."

Neville sat quietly for a moment. "You could be right. Gran's always comparing me to my dad, how I should be as good as he was, but she almost never talks about my mum, and when she does, she's criticizing me for acting just like her. Mum supposedly liked Herbology and Charms, too, and Gran was really unhappy that Herbology was my best class; she said it was a soft option. I don't know what could make Gran dislike Mum so much, though."

"I wouldn't read too much into it right off," he cautioned. "It may just be that they butted heads like mothers- and daughters-in-law all over the world do. Your gran may not even realize she's talking about your mum like she is. One thing you could do to find out is ask her to stop the next time she says something bad about your mum; she might be surprised that she was doing it at all."

"That's a really good idea. Thanks, Harry." Neville smiled. "Maybe you're not as bad at Divination as you say you are."

"Oh, this wasn't Divination, just a little psychology. Dream interpretation was one of its first uses." At the other boy's confused look, he explained, "It's the study of the mind. Muggles have put a lot of time and effort into figuring out why people act or think the way they do. I've flipped through a book or two on the subject."

That was a bald-faced lie. When Harry learned he had a natural talent for mind magics, he had looked for everything he could find on psychology. Wizards and witches had utterly no clue about how the mind worked, and the one compiled text in Flourish and Blott's on spells that affected people's thoughts was short enough to read in a single lazy afternoon. If he was going to use mind-altering spells on his enemies, he didn't just want to know how to cast them; he wanted to understand exactly what those spells were doing so they would be as effective as possible. That no one he cast mind magic on had ever broken free should demonstrate how beneficial his studying was.

The bell rang shortly after that, and Harry hung back to stay out of the tidal wave flowing out. Starting his way down the long staircase, he frowned. If every Divination class is going to be like they were in the old timeline, I may need to wind back an hour or two so I can steal away to the Hog's Head for a drink just to keep my sanity. It's not like Aberforth will care how old I look so long as I have the coin to pay him. The thought from earlier struck him, and he stopped mid-step, backing up to avoid tumbling down the stairs.

In sixth year when Trelawney told me that Snape overheard her during her interview with Dumbledore, she mentioned that their meeting took place in the Hog's Head! That makes no sense whatsoever; if there is one person who can give Voldemort a run for his money in terms of hating Albus Dumbledore, it's Aberforth. The likelihood that he would let Dumbledore prance into his bar for any reason — let alone a job interview, considering the codger has a perfectly good office not fifteen minutes away — is so low that not even the goblins would offer odds on it. Why did Trelawney say that her interview was there? He pondered for a moment, then a glare crept into his eyes. Or perhaps a better question is, why did Trelawney think her interview was there? It all comes back to you, doesn't it, you manipulative old bastard?

I need to talk this over with Hermione and Luna. Maybe between the three of us, we can figure out what the hell he was up to.

Harry slipped into Umbridge's class a matter of seconds before the bell rang. Though Hermione frowned at his timing and wroth expression, she did nothing but move her satchel from the seat next to her so he could sit. "We three need to talk tonight," he whispered.

"Okay." Hermione turned to the front as the toad stood from behind her desk, not that it made much difference in her height.

"Well, good afternoon!" Umbridge said in that faux-little-girl voice he despised so much.

A few people responded in kind, though most stared at the woman like she had gone round the bend. A fair concern, to be sure; she had, after all, croaked like a bullfrog in her opening address, and now she was set on treating them like children a decade younger than they really were. Harry could sympathize with that, really.

A hard glint appeared in Umbridge's eyes, not that the oblivious youth noticed. "Tut, tut. That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time. Good afternoon, class!"

He crossed his arms over his chest and barely withheld a glare; this monster was many things, but a professor she was not. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Hermione do the exact same thing.

"There, now, that wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please." She pulled her laughably short wand from her handbag — pink, of course — and rapped it on the blackboard. While 'A Return to Basic Principles' was still forming on the dark surface, she turned back to face the students. "Your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it? The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Min— approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year."

Well, damn, Harry thought unhappily. I guess she's smarter than I gave her credit for if she's figured out that trap already. I'll just have to try harder.

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered course of magic this year. Copy down the following, please." Another tap on the board displayed the course aims.

The worst part about this is that those objectives aren't too bad a start. In fact, this course would be perfect for first years; add a fourth point concerning an introduction to the practical side of DADA, and it would be fine for the second years, as well. The problem, of course, is that it's totally inadequate for upper years. Unfortunately, this probably closes off most avenues of getting rid of her through proper channels; her class will look good enough on paper, especially with the Ministry backing her, for that to work. And I was actually kind of hoping that we could use the system to shield ourselves from this torture-happy bitch.

Oh well, we'll just have to go the messy route.

"Has everybody got a copy of Wilbert Slinkhard's book?" After again chiding the class to be more enthusiastic, she continued, "I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk."

He grinned slightly and pulled out a bland grey book with Defensive Magical Theory written on the front. The entire thing looked to be designed to put the reader to sleep; even the font was boring. Opening it, though, revealed that to be a deception. A Compendium of Curse-Breaking Techniques, vol. III was a drier title, certainly, but the contents were infinitely more interesting than Slinkhard's petulant whining.

Perhaps half an hour later, Umbridge cleared her throat. "Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?"

Harry's eyes shot to the toad, then he immediately turned to Hermione. She was not holding her hand up like last time, however, but was instead looking behind them. Continuing his rotation, he spotted one of the Patil sisters, Padma by the blue and bronze tie, lowering her hand. "No, ma'am, not the chapter itself. I'm somewhat confused about the course goals."

"Well, Miss Patil, perhaps you should read them again. They are written in perfectly clear English, after all."

Padma's eyes narrowed at the denigrating jab, and her voice was decidedly frosty as she said, "Perhaps you forgot one, then. They do not mention using magic."

Umbridge laughed. "Using magic? Why, I can't imagine any situation arising that would require you to do that. Do you expect to be attacked during class?"

"Isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL, though?" Parvati piped up from beside her twin. "Where we're supposed to show that we can actually do the countercurses and things?"

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why any proper witch should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions." Harry lazily raised one hand, gaining the toad's attention before either Hindu girl could explode from the casual dismissals and unstated racism. She eyed him gleefully. "Yes, Mr. Potter? Do you have something to add?"

"I do, professor. I'm not sure where you picked up this estimation of our skills — perhaps your Hogwarts class was simply exceptional? — but speaking from four years of experience, I have not known any student in this room to be able to cast a spell on the first attempt. Surely you would not put us at such a disadvantage during this most crucial year of our education?"

Umbridge sputtered a few times, apparently prepared for him to spout off about Voldemort. It hadn't worked the first time, not that she knew this, so why would he repeat it and expect different results? That was the shorthand definition of insanity, after all. "Well, Mr. Potter, that can only be because none of you have ever been taught the theory sufficiently. Unsurprising considering how very irresponsible wizards you had in this class, not to mention," she shuddered, "extremely dangerous half-breeds."

"We have not been properly taught magical theory?" he asked, intentionally misunderstanding her. "My my, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick will be beside themselves at such an oversight. I'm sure both of them will be approaching you shortly to correct this grievous failing. Professor McGonagall, especially; it would look downright terrible for the Deputy Headmistress to be found lacking, don't you think?"

Umbridge paled at that. She clearly had not thought about who all she could be construed as insulting when she voiced that blanket denigration. As his veiled disrespect filtered through her brain, however, her face purpled. She opened her mouth, and his deep-set compulsion reacted.

Ribbit!

The class broke out in laughter as their illustrious professor once again acted like the amphibian she resembled, waving her wand at herself and vocalizing — there was no way such din could be called singing — in harmony with a tune only she could hear. After a few seconds, Harry stood and gathered his belongings. "Did anyone else hear her dismiss us early? I heard her say we could go." Quickly catching on, the other students packed up and followed him and his lover out the door.

Umbridge glowered at the empty desks and croaked furiously.

It was at dinner that McGonagall struck. Sitting in between Hermione and Luna, Harry looked up at the insistent tapping on his shoulder at his displeased head of house. "Can I help you, Professor?"

"Indeed you can, Mr. Potter. The Headmaster has requested you come to his office to discuss your behavior towards Professor Snape earlier today."

"I figured that was the case. Luna, would you be a dear and —"

"Get everything ready? Of course." The blonde smiled before kissing him passionately; when she pulled back, she giggled at his own dreamy face and McGonagall's scandalized look. Leaning back in to do the same to Hermione, she said, "Don't take too long, though. You know the elderly shouldn't stay up past their bedtimes."

He smiled as she skipped out the door. Shaking his head to jar his thoughts back into a rough semblance of order, he stood and held out his hand to assist Hermione up. "Let's go see what the great and powerful Oz wants. Actually, Professor, you had better come with us as well."

Nonplussed at his reference on the heels of Luna's actions, she frowned before saying, "Professor Dumbledore wants to see you alone, Mr. Potter."

"Let me rephrase, then. Deputy Headmistress, your presence is required in an official capacity."

He walked into the hall with his beloved brunette. A moment later, clacking on stone announced that the older Scotswoman was following. "Mr. Potter, while I don't understand why you want me there, I do know that Miss Granger is not needed."

"Actually, she is. She's my second." He did not expect a formal duel to occur, but with how Dumbledore always backed Snape up, there was no telling what would happen when he sprang his trap.

The rest of their walked continued in silence from the two time-travelers; after a minute, McGonagall realized they would say no more until they reached their destination. Arriving at an ugly gargoyle statue, she firmly intoned, "Ice mice," before they continued into the lion's den.

Dumbledore smiled genially, though his expression dimmed when he spotted Harry's companions. "Minerva, did I not say that I wished to speak to Mr. Potter alone?"

"Kind of hard to speak to me alone when Snape's skulking around," Harry said, jerking his thumb to where the self-centered spy was striving to sink into the shadows. "Besides, both of them need to be here."

"Now, Harry, my boy —"

"They stay, Headmaster."

The old man snapped his mouth shut at his forceful tone; Snape simple snarled. "Very well, Harry, if you insist. Would you mind telling me why you were so antagonistic and disrespectful to Professor Snape this morning?"

"You mean besides him deducting points without cause, singling me out for ridicule, and vanishing a potion to give me a zero for the day even though the potion in question easily deserved an Exceeds Expectations, perhaps even an Outstanding? I suppose I must have picked up a Wrackspurt infestation in Headquarters that has caused me to start standing up to bullies."

"The imaginary creatures thing is Luna's gig," Hermione chided playfully. "Don't steal it from her. Besides, if anyone gave you Wrackspurts, she would be my first suspect."

"No, what I got from her itches a lot more."

She rolled her eyes. "They have creams for that now, love." Harry barely managed to shove down his chortles at the adult's gaping mouths.

Finally, Dumbledore managed to pick his jaw up off the floor. "I… I see. Please visit Madam Pomfrey to have that looked at. Still, you cannot go about insulting your professors with impunity. I'm afraid you will have to serve detention with Professor Snape—"

"No."

"— only for a week or so, just so that you won't…" The old man blinked a few times. "I'm sorry, my boy, what did you say?"

"I said no. I'm not going to serve any detentions with Snape," Harry repeated.

Snape sneered. "Just like a Potter, thinking you can dictate when you can and cannot be punished. Your father —"

"Be silent, Death Eater." Again, those without knowledge of the future were shocked into stillness. He sighed. We're not going to get anywhere if they keep interrupting me. "As for why, I hereby call into effect section nineteen, subsection three of the Hogwarts Faculty Code of Conduct."

"You mean subsection two," Hermione interjected. "Subsection three concerns the groundskeeper being caught engaging in sodomy during a school day with an animal from the previous week's Care lessons."

Everyone turning towards her caused her to blush. Harry opened his mouth a few times fruitlessly before managing, "That's… oddly specific, and I really don't want to know why. Subsection two, then."

With a frown, McGonagall summoned a thin book off Dumbledore's shelves and turned to the back. When her eyes shot open, he knew she had found the relevant text. "I dinnae ken… Mr. Potter, are ye honestly implying that ye and Professor Snape are involved in a blood feud?"

"I am not implying anything," he responded hotly, slowly moving from between Hermione and the target of his plot. "I am flat-out saying that Snape is punishing me for my father's actions even after his death, thereby turning what was a personal issue between them into a family conflict, and that I have felt like my life was in danger when in his presence. This is before complicating the situation with the fact that he bears the brand given to followers of my parents' murderer, not to mention that he tried to have my godfather suffer the Dementor's Kiss just over a year ago with full knowledge that Sirius was framed and wrongfully imprisoned. Yes, I believe there is a blood feud between the Houses of Snape and Potter. In light of this, I demand the standard safety protocols for such a situation be instated as delineated in the Code, including but not limited to moderation of punishments, at least one unbiased mediator when the two of us are required to be in the same area, withdrawal of myself and my allies from all classes and clubs he is assigned to teach or sponsor—"

Snape, furious at either the slight to his professionalism — which Harry doubted — or his favorite chew toy being taken away — thisone he thought was more likely — snapped out his wand and screamed, "Diffind—aagh!"

Idly curious about why the dungeon bat was clutching his chest in pain, Harry leapt backwards. The streamer of magic passed through where his shoulders and neck had been before nicking the frame of Phineas Nigellus's portrait. The garbled incantation and loss of focus had weakened the spell to a level that he would have survived, probably with only minor injuries, but that did not change the intent behind it. His wand, which had rested out of view in his left hand since he saw Snape was there, moved to point at the 'professor'. "Depulso," he whispered, his natural rage at someone trying to kill him supplementing his will. Snape flew backwards to be stopped by the wall; a sharp crack was heard before the man slid back to the floor, a trail of bloody grease marking where his head had impacted stone. "I'd like to add assault and attempted murder to my list of grievances against him; this should also validate my claim that Snape actively poses a threat to my life. Professor McGonagall, if you would please call in the DMLE?"

"Harry, my boy, there is no need for such an extreme act." When the other three conscious individuals looked at him in unified disbelief, Dumbledore amended, "While Professor Snape was certainly in the wrong, I am sure this is simply a case of him letting his passions overwhelm him. Considering no one was hurt, there is no reason this cannot be handled internally. I will have a talk with him, and then we can all move on from this bit of unpleasantness."

He glared at the end of Dumbledore's oft-broken nose, both avoiding Legilimency and calculating the chances for getting away with giving the Headmaster another one. They were probably not in his favor. This was just like the old man; protecting his pet at the expense of the law and everyone else's safety. Dumbledore still had too good of a reputation and too much political capitol, even without his various positions, for any accusations to stick, at least at this time. Aware of Dumbledore's predilections, it was only Harry's knowledge of Snape's obsession with his mother that prevented him from wondering if the bat pulled double-duty as spy and bed-warmer. "And the recognition of our blood feud?"

"Certainly you do not wish to sully Severus's reputation? I would trust him with my life, Harry."

"Bully for you. I do not, and more importantly will not, continue to put my life and wellbeing in his hands. You can either enact the required precautions, or I will inform Dowager Longbottom and the rest of the school governors about what transpired here. Tonight."

Dumbledore sighed in that infuriating grandfatherly manner of his. "If you insist on going down this route, I suppose I have no choice but to excuse you from Professor Snape's class. I am very disappointed in you, though, and I'm sure your parents would be as well. The inability to forgive is the first step in turning Dark."

"If you remember, we discussed this very subject earlier in the summer, Professor." Harry leaned closer. "Tell me, who must I torture and kill to earn your trust? Who must I betray? What child's life must I destroy before you deem me worthy of respect?"

Though he could not see her, he could feel McGonagall heavy glare from behind him. Dumbldore, however, seemed to be the recipient if his blanching was any indication. "Yes, well… Minerva, could you inform the rest of the staff that I need to speak with them? Harry, Hermione, you may go."

The two teens departed, leaving the fuming head of Gryffindor to her prey.

Neville's dream is canon, though we never learn anything about it other than it includes scissors wearing his grandmother's hat. Also, I am not bashing Augusta Longbottom so much as… pointing something out. She — supposedly — spent a lot of time trying to turn Neville into a mini-Frank, even making him use his father's wand, but the one time we see the Longbottom parents, Augusta is dismissive about the bubblegum wrappers Alice gives only to Neville, a sign that the woman does, on some level, know who he is. When I read that part of book 5, I couldn't help but wonder if she would have acted differently were Alice's and Frank's positions reversed.

I get the feeling that the "Must I go Dark to truly appreciate the Light?" speech is going to be a common recurrence if Snape keeps sticking his big nose where it isn't wanted.

More chapters available on fanfiction.

Faery HeroesBy: Silently Watches Response to Paladeus's challenge "Champions of Lilith". Harry, Hermione, and Luna get a chance to travel back in time and prevent the hell that England became under Voldemort's rule, and maybe line their pockets while they're at it. Lunar Harmony; plenty of innuendo, dark humor, some bashing included; manipulative!Dumbles; jerk!Snape; bad!Molly, Ron, GinnyRated: Fiction M - English - Adventure/Humor - [Harry P., Hermione G., Luna L.] - Chapters: 50 - Words: 245,545 - Reviews: 7,251 - Favs: 16,766 - Follows: 10,584 - Updated: Jul 24, 2014 - Published: Jun 19, 2012 - Status: Complete - id: 8233288