Stormseeker: Borrowed Destiny

A few days after saving Justin, the next Saturday, my next "detention" with Professor Snape. I wonder how much better at Occlumency I'm going to have to get before he's satisfied with it.

"Has there been any progress on finding the Heir of Slytherin or catching the basilisk since Thursday's incident?" I ask.

"I'm afraid not, Stormseeker," Snape answers.

"Right, so far as anyone knows, there aren't any descendants of Salazar Slytherin at the school," I say. "And there are also no Parselmouths currently attending Hogwarts."

"How can you be certain of that?" Snape asks.

"Luna Lovegood told me," I reply.

"Lovegood?" Snape says, raising an eyebrow. "First year Ravenclaw? Isn't she the one that's always prattling on about wrackspurts and nargles?"

"That's the one," I say.

"And you listen to her?" Snape says.

I smirk. "Of course. Professor, she knew exactly who I was just by looking at me. I believe that she's a Seeker. This world might call her a Seer, perhaps, but the term doesn't have the same implications at all. A Seeker can see what's already there, not what might yet come to pass."

"I see," Snape says, frowning a little. "That is entirely conceivable, I suppose. Now, let's see, how is your Occlumency?"

My barriers feel strong. I feel confident. I'm in control. I can't always keep Snape out completely, but neither can he get in any longer without my realization. I've definitely made improvements.

"It's not enough to simply keep someone out," Snape says. "You must learn to make them see only what you want to see. You must become Harry Potter."

"Yes, sir," I say. "Professor? If I may ask, what was that spell you used to send a message to Dumbledore? The one with the glowing animal?"

"That, Stormseeker, was the Patronus Charm," Snape replies. "A very difficult and complicated spell. It is not limited to mere communication, although that is a very useful aspect to it that not everyone knows about. Its primary purpose is to defend oneself against certain sorts of Dark creatures, such as Dementors and Lethifolds."

"Is there any chance that I could learn it?" I ask.

"That is doubtful," Snape says with a touch of exasperation. "Not with your level of experience." He sees the eager look on my face and rolls his eyes, sighing. "I would really rather you focus your efforts on mastering Occlumency, but if you insist upon this..." He pulls a book from a shelf and hands it to me. "Learn about the Patronus Charm. Read this book in your spare time. I will not further waste my time in teaching you this, Stormseeker, but you may study it on your own. It is not a dangerous spell to use, just difficult."

"Yes, sir," I say, taking the book from him. "Thank you, sir."

"Now, back to the Occlumency lesson," Snape says.

I spend some time over the next couple weeks reading up on the Patronus Charm and trying to practice it a little, to no effect. The book details the proper wand movements and pronunciation, but also mentions that, in order to properly cast the spell, I need to focus upon a happy thought. Magic fueled by emotion doesn't seem like such a strange concept to me. However, I don't seem to have a lot of happiness to draw upon. I have too much anger, fear, and hatred in me, I think.

Well, I'm not about to give up on it so easily. I approach Percy in the common room one Saturday morning. "Hey, Percy?" I say. "You busy?"

"Not really," Percy replies. "You need help with something, Harry?"

"Just a bit of extracurricular reading material," I say. "Do you know anything about the Patronus Charm?"

Percy raises an eyebrow at me. "That's high-level defense magic. What are you reading about that for?"

"I thought it might be useful to know," I explain.

"I imagine it would, but I doubt you'd be able to cast it anytime soon," Percy says. "I can't imagine there are many students who can cast it, even the sixth and seventh years. Although that's probably at least partially to blame on the lack of decent defense professors. Many qualified adult wizards can't even cast it, though."

"Is it that complex, or are that many wizards not particularly happy?" I ask.

Percy shrugs. "I don't really know. I haven't learned it, myself."

I give a nod. "I see. Well, thanks anyway. I'll keep at it, though. Maybe I'll be able to cast it by the time I leave school."

"I'm sure persistence will pay off, if you're that determined to be able to cast it," Percy says. "Thinking of becoming an Auror when you grow up?"

"I don't know," I say. "Maybe. We'll see." That would entirely depend on whether I actually make it to the end of the school year, and furthermore on whether I will want to remain in this world for a while longer afterward, never mind what I might like to do here. More likely, if I'm to stay here longer, it would be to engage in further, advanced studies of magic. But right now, that prospect seems a very long way off. Lifetimes away.

Come December, announcements have been posted regarding the opening of a dueling club. Now that's something I'll be sure to sign up for. Maybe I'll actually be able to pick up some decent combat spells there that Lockhart is too inept to actually teach.

"You going to the Dueling Club tonight, Harry?" Ron asks.

"Certainly," I reply.

"Really? I'd have expected you to be tucked away in a book or something," Ron says.

I snort softly. "Come now, I'm not a Ravenclaw. I read books to learn how to fight and protect people... because I'm sure not learning how from Lockhart."

"Point," Ron says.

That evening, there's quite the crowd gathered in the Great Hall for the first meeting of the new Dueling Club. There's a good deal of murmuring about it going on, wondering who will be heading it. And then Lockhart strides onto the stage in rich purple robes, along with Snape, who is most definitely not wearing purple robes.

"Tell me Snape is leading this club, and not Lockhart," I mutter.

"You're actually hoping for Snape?" Ron says incredulously. "But he's a cruel and miserable greasy git!"

"He also knows which way his wand is supposed to go," I reply. "And would never hide under his desk from pixies."

"Point," Ron says.

Lockhart takes the stage with a flourish, making sure that everyone can see and hear his magnificent self. "Welcome, students, to the first meeting of the new Hogwarts Dueling Club! The Headmaster has given me permission to start this club, in hopes that I might be able to train some of you to defend yourselves even half as well as I have on numerous occasions!"

"We are so doomed," Ron whispers.

"Professor Snape here will be assisting me with a little demonstration," Lockhart says. "He assures me that he knows a little about dueling himself. But rest assured, students, that I will not seriously harm him!"

"Go Snape!" I shout, whistling enthusiastically, and earning myself odd looks from almost everyone.

I could swear that Snape is almost grinning. The two of them hold out their wands, face one another, and bow. Then the duel begins on the count of three.

"Expelliarmus!" Snape casts. There's a brilliant flash of light, and Lockhart is thrown back off the stage, into the far wall, and slumps down to sprawl out on the floor.

"Woohoo!" I cry, cheering and applauding along with several of the Slytherins. Ron gives me a sidelong glance and adds a bit of polite applause as well.

"Oh, I hope he's alright," Lavender says.

Lockhart slowly climbs to his feet, brushing himself off self-consciously. "Ah, yes, as you can see, that was the Disarming Charm," Lockhart explains. "And I have lost my wand." It seems to have landed near Lavender, who picks it up and hands it back to him. "Ah, thank you. Yes, Professor Snape, a good choice in showing them that, a very handy spell, although it was very obvious what you were about to do, you know. I merely let them see how effective the spell can be in practice."

"Sure you did," mutters Ron.

Upon seeing Snape's positively murderous look, Lockhart decides that this is a good time to pair us off to practice the Disarming Charm with one another. I pair off with Ron, and we start practicing.

"Just remember, everyone," I say to my classmates around me. "Try to do what Snape did, not what Lockhart did."

A couple people snicker at that, but I also receive a couple glares, a concerned look or two, and wide-eyed horror from Lavender. I shrug and turn to Ron. If they really want to get knocked on their butts and drop their wands, there's not too much I can do about it. Personally, I intend to take after Snape.

As we're practicing, Ron gets hit by a stray spell from Neville and tumbles to the ground. "Ow!" Ron cries.

"Sorry!" Neville says.

Ron's nose is bleeding profusely, and my sense of dread only increases as Lockhart approaches to try to "help".

"Ah, careful there," Lockhart says. "I'll get that for you." He waves his wand, but the only effect is that Ron is now bleeding from his eyes, ears, and mouth now in addition to his nose.

"Episkey," Snape says from behind me, pointing his wand at Ron. The bleeding slows, but doesn't seem to quite stop. "Longbottom, get Weasley to the hospital wing immediately."

Neville nods in terror and hurries off with Ron, who is trying in vain to staunch the bleeding with his robes as he goes off.

"Why don't we have a volunteer pair do another little demonstration?" Lockhart says. "Say, Potter and Malfoy. Why don't you come up to the stage and show us how it's done?"

Does he really hate me that much? No matter. I head up to the stage and take my position across from Draco. He sneers at me disdainfully. I imagine it would be much more than mere disdain if he realized that I was the one who murdered his parents. It would be only right for him to try to get his revenge, then.

"Are you scared, Potter?" Draco asks.

No, I think. Not of you, not of dying, not of whatever spell you could think up to try to kill or humiliate me with. "Only of Lockhart trying to 'help' me," I mutter.

Draco snorts in amusement at that.

"Alright, boys," Lockhart says. "Face one another, and bow." Draco and I give one another only the slightest of bows, never letting our eyes off one another. "Now, begin on the count of three... One, two--"

"Serpensortia!" Draco cries. A large, black snake erupts from the end of his wand and lands before me.

"Nice spell," I say, looking down at the snake. So, is it deadly poisonous? Am I about to die again? But I'm calm. Is it my Occlumency skills, or merely a thought that it would simply be justice if he got to kill me at least once?

"Keep still, Potter," Snape tells me. "I'll take care of it."

"No, no," Lockhart says. "I'll do it!"

I watch in horror as Lockhart casts something idiotic, and sends the snake flying across the room to land in front of Blaise Zabini. The dark-skinned Slytherin boy jumps in surprise, and the snake raises itself and opens its mouth, ready to strike.

"Immobulus!" I shout, pointing my wand at the snake. In a flash, the serpent is frozen in place, as still as Filch's cat.

Snape goes over and waves his wand at the snake, making it vanish. "Five points to Gryffindor for your quick thinking, Potter."

"Now..." I say, turning back to the stage. "Expelliarmus!" Lockhart's wand flies out of his hand.

"Ah, you've got the spell down perfectly," Lockhart says. "But Draco is your opponent, not I. You're supposed to cast it on Draco."

"I think you are the more immediate threat here, Lockhart," I comment dryly.

There's jeers of laughter from the Slytherin section, but Blaise Zabini looks at me gratefully and starts applauding. Lavender looks scandalized.

"I think that's been quite enough of this little demonstration," Snape says.

The meeting breaks up, and we're sent on back to our common rooms. Before we go, however, Blaise approaches me and says, "Potter. I want to thank you."

"Don't mention it," I say. "I would have helped anyone."

"Not many would go out of their way to help a Slytherin," Blaise says. "I must admit I didn't expect it of you. And you were cheering on Professor Snape, too..."

"Heh," I say, snorting sortly. "Did you expect me to cheer on Lockhart? He's a menace to my continued well-being, sanity, and good taste."

Blaise chuckles softly. "You know, I think you're alright. For a Gryffindor."

As the winter holidays approach, I receive a message from Hagrid inviting me to tea one afternoon before the end of term. I haven't talked with him much for a while, not since we lost Norbert, so I head on out with Ron and Neville, bundled up in scarves and coats against the cold.

"Hello, boys," Hagrid says. "I've got a batch of fresh-made rock cakes for you. I know you all love them so much."

"Thanks, Hagrid," I say, my teeth practically hurting at the very thought of it.

"I, er, I'm sorry about Norbert," Hagrid says. "It was all my fault that you got in trouble for it, Harry. You were just as excited about him as I was, I know..."

I shake my head. "Don't worry about it."

"So how've your classes been?" Hagrid asks. "Term going well for you?"

"Everything except Defense, as usual," I say dryly.

"That bad, is he?" Hagrid says, shaking his head. "Position's been cursed for so long it's a wonder anyone can defend themselves at all these days."

"In our first class, he hid under his desk from pixies," I say.

"He's never going to live that down," Ron adds.

"Anything interesting been happening out this way?" I ask.

"Eh, not really," Hagrid says. "Going to need to remember to ask the Headmaster for permission to put a charm on the chicken coop. Two roosters dead in the past week. Probably a fox or a bugbear, I reckon."

"Oh," I say. "Nothing too interesting, then? I mean, no more dragon eggs, or other dangerous and potentially illegal things?"

Hagrid chuckles softly. "Well, when you put it that way, why don't I introduce you to Aragog?"

"Aragog?" I repeat.

"Aragog's an Acromantula," Hagrid says. "I got him when he was an egg, oh, fifty years ago or so. He's been living out in the Forbidden Forest ever since."

"A-- an Acromantula?" Ron says, turning pale. "I think-- I'll pass on this one. You guys can go on ahead if you like."

"Ah, you don't need to be scared of old Aragog," Hagrid says. "He's as gentle as a teddy bear. Wouldn't hurt a fly. Well, maybe a big enough fly to eat, I suppose. But he wouldn't hurt a student."

Ron shakes his head. "No, no, I just, I don't like spiders, alright?"

"I'll pass, too," Neville says. "I'm not scared of spiders, but I don't have you or Harry's love of hanging around dangerous creatures."

"Suit yourself," Hagrid says.

After finishing up with tea, Neville and Ron head back to the castle, leaving Hagrid and I to take a little trip out into the Forbidden Forest along with Hagrid's dog, Fang.

I remember what Dumbledore told me on Halloween, about Hagrid. I should really ask him about it. Neville and Ron aren't around to hear anymore, although I doubt they've let Hagrid in on what happened. He's terrible at keeping secrets. Still, I'd like to hear his take on things.

"Hagrid," I say. "Why were you expelled from Hogwarts?"

"Eh, I don't really like to talk about it," Hagrid says. "But Aragog was the reason, actually. They thought he'd killed someone."

I frown a little. "So if Norbert had wound up hurting anyone..."

Hagrid grimaces, and nods gravely. "They might've snapped your wand in two, just like they did mine."

"I wouldn't have let them," I say firmly. "I'd have fought to the death over it."

"Not very sensible, but very brave. Very Gryffindor," Hagrid says. Not that dying is really very brave for me. All it means is I'd have another chance to get away. "Here we are."

Hagrid has led me fairly far into the forest, and there are numerous spiders of unusual size scurrying about. And there, ahead, in the center of a massive web, is a spider as big as a small dragon.

"Who is there?" says the enormous spider. A talking spider? Sure, why not.

"It's Hagrid. And I've brought a good friend. Harry Potter."

"Hello," I say brightly. "So you're Aragog? I've never really met a spider before..."

"Ah," the spider says. "A friend of Hagrid. Yes, I am Aragog. Hagrid has never brought others into our home before."

"Well, Harry here is special," Hagrid says.

"You could say that, I suppose," I say dryly. "I'm sorry anyone thought you killed anyone, Aragog."

"I never harmed a human," Aragog says. "But some humans are all too willing to believe that those such as I are merely dumb beasts."

"Well, I think you're great," I say. Okay, so spiders aren't really my thing, and I'd rather go in for reptiles at least. But it would be quite rude, not to mention unwise, to insult such a creature in his presence.

We talk for a short while, and then head back. It's getting late, and it's a bit of a walk. "Don't want you out after curfew," Hagrid says. "But I suppose you could always just sneak back with that cloak of yours."

I don't mention that I don't have it anymore, and sneaking around the castle at night is a bit more risky. I dread the terrible thought of having to help Lockhart answer his fan mail again. I wanted to interrogate Hagrid about things a bit more, but I can't think of how to word my questions without giving too much away. I don't want him to realize why I'm asking these things. I couldn't even think of anything good to say to the spider! I feel so useless sometimes.

At least I wind up making it back to the castle safely, just before curfew. No disasters today. So why am I so tense?