November 10, 1992
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Harry glanced at the concerned look on Sirius’s face, but couldn’t quite bring himself to make eye contact. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Because you don’t have to do this, you know. I’m sure there’s another way, and we can find other things to go off of. I…”
“It’s okay, Sirius, really. I’ll be fine. Besides, I need to know. I can’t… I need to know.”
Sirius sighed and nodded. “Are you sure you want to do it now though? I mean, I’m going to the shack tonight and I don’t want to leave you alone to deal with this. Maybe it’d be better to do it tomorrow?”
Harry shook his head. “I’ll be fine, Sirius. Go to Remus. Besides, I have Barty here,” Harry said with fake cheerfulness.
Sirius gave him a unconvinced look. “Barty. Your plan for dealing with potential trauma is Barty.”
“Takes one to know one?”
“That is not at all what… You know what? No. I’m staying. There is no way I’m letting the two of you work through trauma on your own.”
“No. If we’re working through trauma I get to do it too.”
“I have trauma too, you know.”
Harry groaned. “Sirius, we’re probably discovering new trauma, not dealing with the trauma we already have.”
Sirius stared at him for a moment. “Fine. You discover your newest trauma, I’ll go help Moony with his monthly trauma, and sometime all four of us will sit down and cope with our collective trauma.”
“Somehow I don’t picture that going too well,” Harry said with a wry grin.
“Nope,” Sirius said affirmatively. “But sharing is caring and all that rubbish.”
Harry laughed. “We’re a right mess, aren’t we.”
Sirius chortled. “We should form a club.”
“The we-all-live-at-Harry’s-house club?”
“Hey, would you look at that. We’re way ahead of schedule.”
“Alright, fine, I’m leaving,” Sirius said with a wave before walking out the door past the wards to where he could safely apparate. Just before he did so he turned around and called out, “Don’t do anything I would do!”
Harry chuckled and waved at him. Alright. Time to uncover suppressed trauma, because how else was he going to spend a Wednesday evening at home?
Harry let out a long string of curses. A very long string. It may have included the only Russian words he had managed to really pick up, but by Merlin he knew them. Suddenly noticing Barty’s wide eyes, he paused mid rant. “Um, you okay?”
Barty just nodded his head, eyes still wide.
“Um, sorry about that,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Does this mean you’re going to go kill someone?”
Barty looked far too eager for Harry’s comfort. “No, no. Uh, the guy’s already dead.” At Barry’s disappointed look he added, “sorry.”
Barty nodded but then frowned. “Wait, does that mean you were talking about Lockhart? Because I thought you already knew what he did and that’s why he got eaten by the basilisk?”
Harry winced. “Uh, yeah, yeah. Lockhart was a terrible person, but, uh, that wasn’t the only person who did the memory charms.”
Barty’s eyes grew wide again. “How many obliviates did you break through?”
“Uh, fourteen, I think? Not entirely sure.”
Barty gave a low whistle in appreciation. “So, Lockhart wasn’t the only one. Who else?”
Harry saw no good way to get around this conversation, which was unfortunate because the only explanation he could think of to give was the whole, oh I’m actually from another universe and Dumbledore obliviated me as a kid but he died and now I’m here and this Dumbledore hasn’t done anything like that but I’m pretty sure he also thinks I’m the Dark Lord and oh yeah by the way we may or may not need to find a way to stop him from doing the same thing to Ivy and did I mention that I’m Ivy’s alternate universe self just older and with far more near death experiences, except that one time where I really did die?
Because that would go over so well. Also, as much as he liked Barty, he still had some less than pleasant memories associated with that face and he’d rather not have someone try to kill him tonight. He was tired.
Meanwhile, Barty was still looking at him expectantly.
“Uh, it was a really powerful wizard who won’t be a problem anymore.”
Barty gasped. “The Dark Lord obliviated you?”
“What? No. No, not Voldemort.”
To Barty’s credit he didn’t actually flinch at the name. Harry felt they were making such good progress.
“Well, then who? Oh wait, must have been Dumbledore then, huh. Well how come he’s not going to be a problem? He’s still alive, isn’t he?”
Barty came to conclusions way to fast. “Uh, yes, and also yes, he’s still alive, and seriously, how is that the first thing you thought of?”
Barty shrugged. “It’s not like there’s that many wizards you actually consider powerful.”
Barty was far too observant for Harry’s own good. He felt the eye twitch coming on but suppressed it.
“Right… So, just to be clear, this stays between us, yeah?”
Barty nodded and Harry sighed.
“Okay, well I just uncovered an entirely new set of traumas to add to my apparently already extensive list if you listen to Sirius, and I realize I am not entirely processing it right now, but it’s inevitably going to hit me at some point in the future, so for the moment I’m going to eat something with absolutely no nutritional value and then get completely wasted. You in?”
“And I didn’t even do *hiccup* it, but no one believed me and I saw it over and over and my *hiccup* father let my mum die there.”
Harry nodded, vaguely aware that this was something he should maybe ask Barty about. Later. Much later.
“And what about you? Did your mum die in Azkaban too?”
“No, she was murdered.”
Barty gasped, then hiccuped again. “Was it your dad,” he whispered loudly.
Harry shook his head.
“Oh, that’s good then.”
Harry grunted in reply and the two lapsed into silence.
“Barty, what did you want to be?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you grew up. What did you want to do?”
Barty frowned. “But I did grow up.”
“But before. What did you want before?”
“I *hiccup* wanted to be a… a teacher.”
“Really?” Harry said, somewhat understanding that this was something unexpected, although he couldn’t remember why.
“I wanted to teach things.”
“What kind of things?”
“I wanted to teach all the things.”
“Barty, you can teach all the things.”
Barty burst into tears and Harry reached out to comfort him, remembering that that’s what you were supposed to do when people cried. Someone had said so.
“I want to teach all the things.”
“You’ll be the best.”
“Do you really think so?”
November 11, 1992
Sirius walked into the house and was immediately assaulted by some very…pungent…smells. He wrinkled his nose and walked further into the house. It didn’t look like anything had burned down, so that was a good sign. Eventually he came to the two men sprawled out on the floor, and subconsciously began counting up the empty bottle lying around, calculating the amount of damage he was dealing with.
And to think he had told Harry not to do this without him.
A stream of cold water woke the two, and he tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for them to gather their senses.
“Well,” he inquired, once Harry was sitting upright. “What happened?”
“Henry says we can’t go kill Dumbledore,” Barty said with a pout.
“Yet,” Harry amended, gesturing vaguely at the ceiling. “Hey, Padfoot, did you know that Barty is going to teach all the things?”
Sirius looked at the two. “Uh-huh. And what happened to not doing anything I would do?”
“Oh sorry, do you want some?” Harry made to hand him a bottle, but realizing it was empty, frowned and put it back on the ground, repeating the same set of actions a few times before Sirius called out for the two elves and got them to help him move the two wizards to their beds.
Harry could thank him later.
“Winky,” he asked once the two were safely tucked in, “why were they both on the floor?”
Winky frowned and looked at the ground. “Master Deathy said not to move them,” she replied.
“Master Fleabag wasn’t here to be the responsible one,” Kreacher said chidingly.
Sirius stared at him a moment and then wondered whether there were any more of those drinks left.
November 13, 1992
“Why am I here?”
“Because we asked you so nicely.” Draco shot Fred a glare, but really, Draco was just too easy to rile up.
“You didn’t ask, and it certainly wasn’t nicely,” Draco retorted. “You dragged me halfway across the castle and now we’re staring at a painting of fruit. So I ask again, why am I here?”
“Because, young dragon, we are here to introduce you to the wonder that is the Hogwarts kitchens. Also, Ivy was unavailable.”
Draco gaped. “Ivy knew and she didn’t tell me?”
Fred was about to tease Draco some more but his brother interrupted. “Did you ask her?”
Draco opened his mouth and closed it again. “No,” he finally mumbled.
George made a well-there-you-go motion with his hand. The fact that Draco didn’t argue the point was proof of the fact that if you wanted Ivy to tell you something, you probably needed to ask her directly. Or just wait until she casually mentioned it at some point. How else could Percy have learned of their late night kitchen raids?
Fred tickled the pear and they dragged Draco into the kitchens. Fred smirked at the less than perfectly concealed look of awe on Draco’s face. There was hope for him yet.
“I can’t believe you two kept us there past curfew. We’re going to get caught and it’s going to be all your fault.”
“Worry not, little dragon,” Fred replied gallantly, “we are far too experienced to get caught.”
Suddenly George stopped in front of them and the two barely managed to not run into his back. “Shh,” he said, “did you hear that?”
Draco began ranting about how it was Friday the thirteenth, and no, he wasn’t suspicious, but wasn’t it just oh so coincidental that they were about to die after curfew and it was all his fault and Fred and George were the best friends anyone could ask for and… Alright, so maybe he hadn’t said all of those things, but to be fair Fred wasn’t really paying attention, since he was busy trying to find the source of the sound George had heard.
“There,” George cried out a few minutes later.
The three walked to where George had pointed. It looked to be a broom closet of some kind, but the door didn’t open when George tried the handle.
“It’s not working,” George muttered.
Fred was about to give it a go but noticed the absolutely incredulous look on Draco’s face. “What?” he asked.
Draco pointed to the wand in George’s other hand.
Fred nudged George, who caught onto what Draco was getting at. George sheepishly pointed his wand at the door and watched as it opened with a soft click.
The previously unidentified sound turned out to be a soft humming, and its source was none other than Luna Lovegood, who sat on the ground of the closet, seemingly undisturbed at being locked in there.
“Hello,” she said softly, pausing her humming for a moment as she looked at the three boys.
Fred wasn’t sure what to do in this situation.
“Uh, hi, Luna. What are you doing here?”
“Oh, some of the other students locked me in here and took my wand, so I was humming to pass the time.”
Fred scowled. “Who did this?”
Luna looked at him. “Does it matter?”
“Yes,” Fred said, realizing a second later that George and Draco had said the same.
Luna seemed to think for a minute before she responded. “Alright, well if you are sure you want to know it was…”
“Malfoy, what are you doing? It’s past curfew.”
Draco cringed. He had been so close to getting to the Slytherin dormitories without begin caught, only for Burke to find him a mere twenty yards… He had told the twins something dreadful was bound to happen.
“And what is Lovegood doing with you?”
Luna seemed content to leave Draco to explain on his own. Why was he doing this again? He sighed.
“We found Luna locked in a closet and some of her housemates took her wand, so we didn’t want her to go back to Ravenclaw by herself, and so now she’s coming with me to go spend the night in Ivy’s room?” Draco did his best to only cringe a tiny bit as he finished his explanation-that-turned-into-a-question-in-case-there-was-a-better-answer-that-didn’t-get-him-in-trouble.
Burke seemed really upset by this, but his anger did not appear to be directed at Draco, so he breathed a small sigh of relief and let himself relax.
“Don’t worry,” the prefect said. “I’ll take care of this.”
With that Burke stalked off into parts unknown, leaving Draco to wonder just what he was going to do this late at night. Deciding it probably wasn’t important, he shrugged and went to go give the password for the Slytherin dormitories, but coming to an abrupt halt when he saw Luna standing there with the door wide open.
“How did you…”
“I gave the password,” she said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“But how did you…”
“Come on, Draco. It’s time for bed you know.”
Suddenly visions of Luna Lovegood and Ivy Potter taking over the world together flashed unbidden before his eyes and he shuddered. Maybe she should have gone with the twins to Gryffindor.
November 14, 1992
“Uh, hey Ivy. What are you doing here?”
When she didn’t respond Terry followed the line of her glare to where several older girls were sitting, looking annoyed at the Slytherin’s attention.
“Ivy?” He tried again.
“What? Oh, sorry Terry. What are you doing?”
“I came to see what you were up to. No offense, but why are you here? Isn’t it kind of early for a visit?”
Terry’s own grumbling stomach served to reinforce the point that it was early Saturday morning and not even breakfast time yet.
“Luna needed to get ready,” Ivy said, returning her glare at the older girls.
“Okay… But why are you here?”
Terry checked to make sure fire wasn’t coming out of Ivy’s eyes. You never could tell with her.
“Some people,” she spat out, her glare giving a fair indication who she was talking about, “locked Luna in a closet last night and took her wand.”
Terry winced. This was going to be bad. So bad. Was it too late to switch houses? Hufflepuff didn’t sound terrible.
“So, uh, what are we going to do?” he asked, cautiously optimistic that he might not actually get dragged into this. Not that he would tell Ivy no if she asked him to get involved, it was just that…
“No,” she ground out.
Terry looked up at her in surprise. “Come again?”
“Kenneth told me he would take care of it.” Ivy did not sound particularly happy about that. Terry hid his own joy at that statement.
“Oh, well, that’s nice. So, what are you going to do?”
She abstained from responding in favor of continuing to glare at the fourth year girls across the room. Seriously, did they have no self-preservation skills? That couldn’t be an entirely Slytherin trait, could it?
Just then Terry noticed Padma coming down the stairs. He shot her a pleading look and, as inconspicuously as possible, motioned her over. Padma walked towards them, a puzzled frown on her face.
“Hi, Terry, Ivy. Are you…”
“Going to breakfast? Yes, what an excellent idea,” Terry exclaimed, quickly so no one would have time to protest. “Ivy here was just waiting for Luna,” he said, jerking his head towards Ivy who was still glaring at the fourth years. “And then we can all go to breakfast. Won’t that be great?”
Padma, Merlin bless her very soul, caught on very quickly. “Oh, I can wait for Luna here. You two go. We’ll catch up with you in a moment.”
Terry nudged Ivy, who finally broke her death stare.
“Oh, hi Padma. It’s okay, we can wait.”
“No,” Terry said, a little too loudly. “Thanks, Padma. That’s really nice of you, isn’t it Ivy?”
Ivy went to open her mouth but Terry spoke before she could say anything. “Alright, let’s get going. We’ll meet you both there?” he asked Padma pleadingly.
Padma seemed slightly amused by his unease, which he did not understand at all, but she was agreeing so he let it slide.
Ivy went to do something that looked suspiciously like protest, but he was determined. He began pulling Ivy towards the door, but Ivy managed to get out of his grasp.
“Here,” she said, pulling a wand out of her pocket and handing it a surprised Padma. “This is Luna’s.”
After that she went along willingly with Terry, to his utter relief.
Once they were safely down the hall he asked her, “how did you get that?”
“Well,” she said, proceeding to explain to him exactly how she had retrieved Luna’s wand from where the older girls had hidden it.
By the time they reached the Great Hall Terry was not certain whether or not he was ever going to ask Ivy Potter how, when, why, or where she had done something ever again. On the other hand, some of the spells she described were really interesting…
“So, about that catapult spell, is that something you can do on objects, or does it only work to propel yourself? Also, how do you gauge the force needed to land you in the right spot?”
“Well, if you’re using it on something smaller than a boulder, what you have to do is…”
Kenneth was frustrated. It was a matter of house pride at this point to make sure that Luna Lovegood was properly protected and looked out for, and they were failing. He was failing. Unacceptable. That he hadn’t actually been able to do something about it late last night, something he had only realized when he was halfway to the Ravenclaw dormitories, only added to his frustration.
But now it was a new day, and he was absolutely going to destroy every single one of them.
Ah, and there were just the right people to help him.
“How would you two recommend going about destroying someone?”
Percy’s eyes shot up from the book he had been reading. It was actually a rather fascinating one about delayed reaction curses and… Oh, right. Person. Vaguely disturbing question.
Percy was thankful Thomas seemed as confused as he was about Burke’s question.
“Hypothetically, of course.”
Burke’s tone did anything but convince Percy of the truth of that statement.
“Yeah, sorry, why are you asking us?”
Percy felt Thomas’s question was valid.
Burke just gestured to the pile of books they had in front of them.
Percy shrugged at Thomas’s questioning look.
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Thomas said, turning back to Burke.
“BURKE!” Thomas shouted, nearly crashing into Corvin as he made his way into their dorm room. “What the hell did you do?”
Kenneth looked neither perturbed nor guilty at Thomas’s inquiry. “I took care of it.”
“You put three fourteen year old girls in the hospital wing.”
“That’s not the bloody… You know what? I don’t even want to know. Actually, no, I do. What were you thinking?”
“There was a problem, I took care of it.”
Thomas felt his eye twitch. “What problem could three fourth years possibly cause you.”
“They locked Luna in a closet and took her wand.”
Thomas felt all the energy drain out of him. Taking someone’s wand was one of the biggest no-no’s there was, and he was positive the fourth years knew that. Everyone knew that. But then to lock a first year in a closet and… Oh, and it was Ivy’s friend, and…
Thomas cleared his throat. “Well, uh, thank you for providing such a swift and relatively bloodless response. Does this, er, does this mean the problem is all taken care of then?”
“Yep,” Kenneth said, popping the “p.”
“And Ivy’s not…”
“And Luna is okay?”
“And nothing is on fire?”
Kenneth looked a little puzzled at that.
“Just checking,” Thomas muttered. He cleared his throat again. “Well, thanks for that, and, uh, I’ll just… I’m just going to go now.”
“So, did you figure out what happened?” Thomas seemed nervous for some reason. Percy began to worry that it was worse than they had originally thought.
“Yeah, it’s, um, it’s all good. Kenneth found out about a little problem of sorts that was going on and he deescalated the situation.”
Percy wasn’t sure he had heard right. “I’m sorry, did you say deescalate?”
“Well it was Luna and…”
“And it’s not like they were actually hurt or anything…”
“There was blood.”
“They are in the hospital wing.”
“But only until tomorrow.”
“He put fourth years in the hospital.”
“It could have been worse…”
“And on the bright side he got Ivy to let it go…”
“Oh, well I suppose that’s a good thing…”
“Exactly! Way to focus on the positive, Weasley. Now, where were we.”
“Well I found an interesting possible use of armadillo bile and powdered moonstone in the cultivating of venomous tentacula. See, I think that if you coat the seed in the bile before planting, and then administer a mixture of the two during the early cultivation stages, you may be able to get a plant that responds to simple commands from the caretaker. Now, theoretically, if you were to add boiled rose thorns at the moment the seed first erupts, then…”
November 19, 1992
“Hey, Harry, do you have any photos of yourself lying around?”
“Ivy wants one.”
“Why’d she ask you?”
“No reason,” Sirius squeaked out. Harry looked momentarily suspicious but apparently decided it wasn’t anything to be worried about. Phew. That was close.
“Okay… well, I’m not sure if I have any. Not of just me anyway. Would one of Ivy and I together work?”
“Uh, no. I don’t think so. She specified she needs a picture of just you.”
“Well I guess we can always take one…”
“Great! I’ll go grab a camera…”
“Do we even have a camera?”
“I’ll just go buy a camera, and then… Yeah, okay. Be right back.”
Enclosed are three pictures for you to choose from. In exchange, I demand both photo evidence and a memory (vial enclosed for your convenience). I expect you will choose well.
November 24, 1992
“Lupin, I don’t know how, but somehow I am certain this is all your fault.”
Despite having heard Severus long before he arrived, Remus still jumped a little. He almost went to protest that it wasn’t him, but realized that wasn’t actually the best thing to lead with in this moment.
“The headmaster wants a dueling club started. And for some reason he has decided that you are the person to do it.”
“Er, maybe because I’m the defense teac…”
Severus waved him off. “Yes, yes. But why, pray tell, was I brought into this? Surely it can’t be that hard to run, can it? And why not ask Filius? Seeing as he is the actual dueling champion.”
“Well, I believe he was asked, but cited a lack of time due to two side projects he is already engage in with some students.”
“And what precisely are those projects?”
Remus refrained form shifting in his seat. He was the pinnacle of calm, he was the pinnacle of calm. “Well, I am not sure of the projects’ exact parameters…”
Severus glared at him.
“…but I believe one has to do with Harrington and Weasley, and the other one is with… the other Weasleys.”
Remus allowed no emotion to cross his face at the mixed expression of weariness and horror that crosses Severus’s.
“Filius is a responsible individual, I’m sure…” At Severus’s glare Remus cleared his throat. “Well, anyway, I believe that may have had something to do with why the headmaster asked the two of us to head this… undertaking.”
Remus decided it might not be in his best interest to inform Severus that he resembled a pouting child at the moment, as that was unlikely to aid his cause whatsoever.
“You really don’t want to be around students more than you have to, do you.” It was uttered softly, but Remus could tell he had been heard.
“This is all your fault.”
Remus sighed. This was going to be a long next few weeks. Not for the first time this school year he sent a small mental curse the headmaster’s way.
November 28, 1992
Why did Ivy send Sirius a memory, Harry wondered, looking at the package, not yet noticing the pictures that slipped out the bottom. He placed it on the table, figuring he could ask Sirius later when he got back from whatever party the ladies had graciously excused him from (Harry, not Sirius. Sirius was still made to go, despite his protests that it was a “boring” one).
Just as he turned to walk towards the kitchen in search of some less than healthy evening snack, he spied something on the ground. Picking it up, he realized it was a picture, though it took him a minute to figure out what it was a picture of. Wait a minute, was that…
November 29, 1992
Sirius came strolling through the door, whistling as he went. It had been a pleasant party, an even pleasanter night, and now he was cheerfully optimistic that he was back in time for breakfast. Sundays were Scotch pancake days, and Sirius was behind any breakfast that included that amount of sugar.
Sirius stopped in his tracks and looked up at where Harry sat, seated on the velvet throne (the high wingback chair they kept around for purely aesthetic purposes, none of which included the fact that it made for an excellent and completely necessary throne-in-the-shadows look. Not at all).
“Uh, hey Harry. How long have you been sitting there?”
Harry’s eye twitched but he just waved off the question. “Not important. What I do find important, however, is this.”
Harry handed him a picture and Sirius immediately grinned before realizing that that was not going to help him in this situation.
“I have no idea what this is?” It probably would have been more convincing had he not phrased it as a question.
“Oh, I think you know exactly what this is. Tell me, what did Ivy want a picture of me for again? It seems that little detail was never quite made clear.”
“Oh, nothing. I’m sure she just misses you.” At Harry’s unimpressed look Sirius continued. “And, you know, it might be the tiniest bit possible that someone, I don’t know, a friend or something, may have asked for a copy. Probably just a fan of sorts or something.”
Harry’s eye twitched with furious vigor. It was… mildly impressive to tell the truth.
“This,” Harry said through gritted teeth, gesturing to the photo in Sirius’s hand, “is a bloody shrine.”
“Well, I hear you’re quite popular in Slytherin House these days…”
Harry had once told Sirius that all his life (well, post introduction to the magical world at least), people had constantly told him how much he looked like James. To be completely honest, Sirius didn’t see it. Harry was in no way the carbon copy of James he had supposedly been told he was growing up, or at least Sirius did not think so. Still, the resemblance, when he knew what to look for, was definitely there. This look, however, was entirely Lily. It was a look he was familiar with, and so he did what any rational person would do if they knew what was good for them.
“SIRIUS ORION BLACK, I am going to FIND YOU and I am going to EVISCERATE you and I am going to feed your remains to the first bloody HIPPOGRIFF I can find.”
Harry’s shouts (and threats) rang through the house. For the very first time in their acquaintance Sirius wished Harry had a bigger house. Or maybe that he had bothered to get his own house. And no, Grimmauld Place did not count. Even still…
“Thanks, Barty, for letting me hide out here.”
Barty murmured something in response that Sirius didn’t pick up.
“Say, how long was Harry sitting there waiting for me to get back?”
“Seven hours, forty two minutes.”
“That is… oddly specific.”
“He’s running on fumes and at least eight cups of coffee. You’ll be safe in another thirty minutes or so.”
“Thanks. That’s a relief.”
“It’s when he wakes up from his nap that’ll you’ll really have to worry.”
“Thanks, Barty,” Sirius said dryly.
“No problem,” Barty said. His eyes had not once strayed from his book.
“Hey, whatcha reading there?”
Barty didn’t reply, instead holding up his book for Sirius to read the title.
“Lesser known spell crafters of the eighth cent… Are you serious.”
Barty lowered his book but did not meet Sirius’s incredulous stare. “Pretty sure you are,” he said, no hint of anything beyond slight disinterest in his voice.
He… had walked right into that one.
“Hey, Millie, why is Poinston sitting on the floor in that corner?”
“Oh, I think Burke told him to go sit there.”
Millie shrugged. “I think he broke one of the rules or something.”
Ivy nodded. “Okay, but why is he staring at the picture of Henry?”
Millie frowned for a moment. “I think Burke said something about going there to think about what he had done and whether Lord Slytherin would approve of his actions.”
Ivy stared at Millie for a moment and then burst out laughing. “This is the best. Oh, I know what I’m sending Sirius now.”
Harry and Sirius exited the pensieve.
“You have to admit it looked rather effective,” Sirius said with a cheeky grin.
Harry glared at him. “It’s a shrine. And my… my name is being used to keep students in line. I’m like… the boogie man or something,” Harry said, the horror in his voice growing more evident with every word.
“On the bright side you are having a positive influence on the bright minds of the younger gener…”
Sirius found himself drenched in ice water before he could finish.
“Burke, how is Slytherin keeping everything in order? There hasn’t been a single incident since…” Percy cleared his throat. Since Burke landed three Ravenclaws in the hospital wing. “…for a while,” Percy finished lamely.
“Oh, its simple,” Burke said with a casual shrug and a smirk. “Any time any of the younger kids mess up I make them go sit in the corner and think about what they have done.”
“That’s it?” Percy was fairly certain it hadn’t worked on any of his siblings past the age of maybe six, and likely never on the twins. “They’re actually doing that?”
“Mmhmm,” Burke said, brushing off an imaginary piece of lint. “They sit in the corner, stare at a picture of Lord Slytherin, and think about how disappointed he would be in them if he found out they are disgracing his house.”
“That’s…” Percy had no words. “That’s nice.”
Burke smirked again.
After a moment Percy asked, “so, you wouldn’t happen to know who the heir of Gryffindor is, would you?”
December 4, 1992
“So, I’ve noticed Ivy has been spending a lot of time with the Ravenclaws lately.”
Percy looked up at Thomas, the sudden conversation change catching his attention. “Oh, yeah. Ever since the thing with Luna, I think.”
“Right. Is that why she keeps showing up in Slytherin?”
“Lovegood. She’s just there sometimes. And thing is, no one has given her the password as far as I can tell.”
Percy groaned on the inside. There were two of them. At least it was happening in Slytherin, so therefore not his problem.
“Has anyone said anything?”
Thomas shrugged. “Someone kicked up a fuss at some point but Kenneth shut them up pretty fast.”
“Oh? What’d he say?”
“Told them she had the password so they could go… Well, basically that she had the password so it was fine.”
“He seems to be following her around a lot.”
“Yeah. Hey, did you know Luna called him her big brother the other day?”
“No. Really? What did Burke do?”
“Nothing. He didn’t even react. I’m not sure if he realizes he’s practically adopted her at this point yet.”
“You sure he was the one to do the adopting?”
“True. Hey, didn’t Ivy do that with your brother or something?”
“Try my whole family, but yeah. Charlie especially.”
“The one with the dragons?”
“That’s the one.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
The two boys sat in silence for the next few minutes, thinking of Ivy near dragons. After several minutes of silence they both shuddered simultaneously.
After a few more minutes Percy frowned. “Thomas…”
“Do you think its a good idea for Ivy to be spending so much time around the Ravenclaws?”
“Yeah, why? Won’t they rub off on her and get her to study more or something?”
Percy continued to frown. “Yes, but that’s the thing. What if she gets too good at it. What if she starts getting more ideas and… She only researches things she’s really interested in. But what if the Ravenclaws introduce her to more. I don’t think we can cover the library that fast.”
Thomas’s eyes grew wide at the horror of that realization. “We have to stop this,” he whispered.
Percy nodded. “But how…”
A moment later their eyes met. “Quidditch,” they said together.
And for that they needed two particular people…
“We need to talk about Ivy.”
Thomas looked at Marcus and Wood who were busy plotting… something. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“We’re not giving up any flying times,” Wood said immediately, Marcus nodding along with a determined scowl on his face.
“No, not that,” Percy reassured them. “We need her to redirect her focus a bit more to quidditch.”
“Why?” Marcus asked, one eyebrow raised.
Thomas and Percy shared a glance, and at Percy’s nod Thomas went to explain. “See, the thing is, Ivy has a particular fondness for certain books and topics that are…”
“Chaotic,” Percy said.
Thomas nodded. “And potentially destructive. Remember the hurricane?”
Marcus grinned and leaned back in his chair. “That was a classic,” he said wistfully.
Thomas’s eye twitched only slightly at that.
“Anyway,” Percy said, “we would like to limit the amount of… destruction that occurs.”
“So you want us to distract her with… more quidditch?” Wood asked.
“Yes,” Thomas replied. “Lots and lots of quidditch.”
Wood seemed immediately content with this proposition, but Marcus still looked a bit skeptical. Darn him for being a Slytherin and doing Slytherin things at inconvenient times. “What’s in it for us?” he asked.
“What do you mean,” Percy asked with a frown. “I thought you two wanted her involved in quidditch.”
“Involved, yes. But this is us doing your job now. So, what’s in it for us?”
Thomas looked at Percy but only got a shrug. What job was Marcus talking about?
“What do you mean our job?”
“I mean,” Marcus said, leaning forward and grinning slyly, “that our job is to make sure she has her chance to be brilliant at quidditch, while your job,” here he pointed to the two, “is to make sure the fires don’t destroy anything.”
Percy frowned. “Metaphorical fires, right?”
“Sure, we can go with that.”
Percy’s voice got a bit higher. “You haven’t, er, seen Ivy anywhere today, have you?”
Marcus shrugged. “Last I saw she was headed out with your brothers. They were saying something about some new fireworks that Flitwick gave them an idea for. Some project or other they’ve been working on with him.”
Percy and Thomas shared a brief glance of panic.
“We, uh, we gotta go,” Thomas said, before turning and sprinting out the door, following closely behind Percy who had left right before.
Due to his fast exit he missed the smirk that crossed Marcus’s face at their rapid departure.
“Okay, so what about this one?”
“Well this one should turn into a dragon…”
“Only one way to find out,” George said with a grin.
“Hey is that Percy?” Fred asked, looking over at what looked to be Percy and… Harrington, probably, running out of the castle and shouting… something. It was hard to make out at this distance.
“Maybe they wanted to see too,” Ivy offered.
“Well good thing these are viewable from a distance,” Fred said.
“Three, two, one…”
That evening Thomas Harrington and Percy Weasley made a solemn pack that under no circumstances was anyone to know or hear of their reactions to seeing a dragon made of fire headed their way. There was to be absolutely no talk of girlish screams, panicked shields that were wholly inadequate, or curses that would get them each grounded if their mothers should ever learn of it. But they wouldn’t, because no one, absolutely no one, would ever know. Ever.