Stormseeker: Borrowed Destiny

Perhaps it was a bad idea to alienate Lockhart, but too late for that now. Besides, it amused me. Still, even having him as an ally kind of grated on me a little. Sure, he's pretty and all, but if given the choice, I'd rather have Neville on my side instead.

I end up spending a fair bit of time writing to Tom Riddle. It's been bothering me not to have anyone I can really confide in. At last, I have someone that I can safely trust all of my secrets to. I'm not afraid if Tom knows who I really am, because he's not about to tell anyone. I'm keeping the diary on me at all times, and I'm not about to let it get stolen or throw it away.

And yet, I don't tell him about my plans for the Chamber of Secrets. My real plans, that is. I don't mention my rooster watch, nor my intention of pre-emptively killing the basilisk before it even has a chance to hurt anyone. If I get to read some ancient tomes in the process, so much the better. But I'm not letting anyone die this time if I can help it.

The summer finally comes to an end, and Draco and I board the Hogwarts Express. I spot Luna Lovegood sitting alone in a compartment, and tell Draco, "Hey, let's sit here."

"Sure," Draco says, sliding in next to me and looking over Luna appraisingly. "First year, are you?"

"Yes," Luna replies. "My name is Luna Lovegood. Hello, Infinite Dragon. Hello, Stormseeker."

"Huh?" Draco says. "Oh, right, you're the daughter of the editor of the Quibbler, aren't you. Infinite Dragon? I think I like that."

Hermione pokes her head into the compartment. "There you are, Harry." She comes in as well, followed shortly by Neville.

"Good, everyone's here," I say. I pull out my wand and mutter, "Muffliato. Colloportus. Everyone, this is Luna Lovegood."

"Hello," Luna says.

"Luna, you don't have fancy titles for them, too?" Draco asks.

Luna shakes her head. "I'm afraid not. But I recognized you and Stormseeker's auras immediately."

"Draco, do you happen to know Occlumency, by chance?" I ask. I really should have thought of this earlier, but it's far too late for him to know about the time travel, anyway.

"Of course," Draco says. "Father insisted that it was an important skill to learn, so he hired me tutors for it before I even started at Hogwarts."

"And Neville?" I ask. "How are you coming along?"

"Dumbledore said I'm doing pretty well," Neville says. "So long as I don't look them in the eye, I can usually keep them out."

"And what about you, Luna?" I ask.

"I do not know Occlumency, but no one is likely to be able to read my mind, anyway," Luna replies. "They would not be able to comprehend the things I see."

"I see," I say. "Alright."

"So are you going to tell us what this big secret is now?" Neville wonders.

"As some of you already know," I say. "I am a time traveler. I came back from the future. Not only that, but I unconsciously time travel whenever I would otherwise die. Usually, this sends me back to the morning of the same day. Rare circumstances, such as that I experienced at the end of my last time, apparently can send me back to the day I first died."

"Oh, wow..." Neville murmurs.

"That, by the way, is the primary reason why I'm doing better in our classes than anyone except Hermione," I say, smirking. "It's familiar material to me -- and I'm careful not to do better than Hermione, or it'll look too suspicious. With new material, I'm just as pathetic as everyone else. Perhaps a little better at curses, perhaps a little worse at charms, but that's it."

"And useless at potions," Draco adds.

I smirk. "Hey, I'm managing to attain the minimal level of competence to pass the class and avoid blowing anything up. I just have other priorities at the moment."

"The storm is the heart of your power," Luna says. "You do well in anything you can connect to that, Stormseeker."

"So, yeah, that's one of my big secrets," I say.

"One of?" Neville says, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," I say. "I have an even bigger secret, and I think it's time to let you guys in on it."

"Even Luna?" Neville says. "We just met her..."

"I did know her in my last life, mind you," I say. "But she always knows the truth of the matter anyway."

"Indeed, Stormseeker," Luna says.

"For one thing, I'm not actually from the United States," I say. "I've never even been there. I'm from another universe, a world called Lezaria. I'm an interdimensional traveler, what we call an Elkandu."

"How can that be?" Neville asks.

"You see," I say. "I'm not Harry Potter."

"Huh?" Draco says.

I smirk faintly. "The real Harry Potter is dead," I say. "Dumbledore saw that I looked similar to him and I was about the right age, so he asked me to take his place. I don't know what kind of strings he had to pull to make sure everything, including Gringotts, recognized me as Harry Potter, but the truth of the matter is that I'm not actually him."

"Who are you, then?" Neville wonders.

"I am Lexenmilot Skywalker Majere Renneck Chelseer, the Stormseeker, Heir of the Children of the Dragon's Blood."

"Wait a minute," Hermione says. "Skywalker? Majere?"

I nod. "My father's name was Anakin Skywalker," I explain. "My grandfather was Raistlin Majere."

Hermione stares at me for a moment. "You can't be serious."

"It's the truth," I say.

"Is this some kind of a stupid joke?" Hermione exclaims. "What kind of a fool do you take me for? I listened to you! I believed you! I trusted you! You really had me going for a while there, but this is too much!"

"Huh?" I say dumbly.

"Finite Incantatem," Hermione murmurs, and storms out of the compartment.

I stare blankly at her as she goes, and then clap my jaw shut again and step out into the corridor. "Hermione! Wait!" I call. "I'm sorry if I said something wrong! Please come back!"

"I'm not speaking to you, Harry Potter!" Hermione replies, and ducks into another compartment.

I sigh and return to my seat. "Does anyone have any idea what that might have been about?"

"I haven't the foggiest," Neville says.

"It was the nargles, of course," Luna says.

"She didn't believe you, obviously," Draco says.

I rub my temples, then pull out my wand and cast, "Muffliato." I decide to leave the door unlocked just in case Hermione calms down and comes back.

"I'm not sure I believe you, honestly," Draco says.

"Why?" I wonder.

"I mean, I know about time travel, but I've never heard of other dimensions..." Draco says.

"Because if you haven't heard of it, it obviously doesn't exist," I say dryly.

"If you're from another universe, why did you come here?" Draco asks. "And how?"

"The Elkandu have a powerful teleportation device called a Nexus," I explain. "It's capable of sending people to other worlds. As to for why? Why not? To explore, to learn, to gain power... to have some hope of saving my family..." I sigh. "The day of my first death, my family was slaughtered by a group of powerful dark wizards. My only hope of saving them is to gain enough power to defeat them and to go back in time to that morning again, before the attack."

"Do you really intend to go up against the Dark Knight?" Luna asks.

"I'll do whatever I must," I say. "And if it means trying to become more powerful than him somehow, then I will do it, no matter how long it takes."

"His mark is upon you," Luna says. "He's watching you."

"That's not very encouraging," I mutter.

"Do you really hope to someday go against someone of that level?" Luna asks. "There is perhaps more to him than you realize."

"I know he's powerful," I say. "I know he's practically a god. But if that's what it takes to save my family, then I will do it."

Neville asks quietly, "How did the real Harry Potter die?"

"He fell down a staircase and broke his neck," I reply.

Neville makes a face. "Something like that could have happened to me," he says. "My family was afraid I was a Squib at first, up until Uncle Algie dropped me out of a window, and I bounced."

"Well, naturally," Luna says. "You are very resilient, Neville. Your power is that of the shield."

I assume that means that Neville's inborn talent makes him what the Elkandu would call a Security Mage, also known as a Warder. That would definitely be a valuable person to have on my side, if he can be properly trained up. Otherwise, well, he's still a good friend.

"Merlin," Draco mutters. "Dealing with you as a time traveler was weird enough, but I'm already used to that idea, and it's not like you act too strange for our age anyway. But this?"

"Just keep thinking of me as Harry Potter," I say. "I'm the only one you've actually known, after all. All it means is that I didn't somehow defeat the Dark Lord when I was a baby. And I'm really doubtful that Harry Potter actually even did that myself, anyway."

"It means that the Dark Lord didn't kill your parents," Draco points out. "And that you don't have any personal stake in that conflict."

"No," I say, shaking my head. "He's already killed me several times. And he's put me under the Imperius Curse. Lied to me. Used me. Tricked me. It's personal. Oh, so very personal. Much more personal than murdering parents I wouldn't have been old enough to remember anyway."

"But how much of that was because he thought you were Harry Potter?" Draco asks.

"I don't know," I say. "But I'm not about to start sympathizing for him. Not in this lifetime. I see him as my enemy. He is a threat to my life and the lives of my friends. I won't abide by that."

Hermione doesn't return to our compartment for the remainder of the train ride back to Hogsmeade. When we arrive and get loaded up on the thestral-drawn carriages, she pointedly goes off to sit with Lavender, Parvati, and Padma instead. I'm really going to need to figure out just what set her off like that. That isn't like her.

"Thestrals are such lovely creatures," I comment absently. "It's too bad you guys probably can't see them."

"Huh?" Neville says.

"The creatures drawing the carriages," I say. "They're only visible to someone who has witnessed death."

"I've heard of them," Draco says. "What do they look like?"

"Like black horses with dragon-like wings and heads," I say.

"That sounds kind of sinister," Neville says.

"I wish I could see them, too," Draco says wistfully.

"I'll let you know if I'm planning to murder anyone else, so you can watch," I offer lightly.

"Harry!" Neville exclaims, aghast.

"Relax, I'm just kidding," I say. "Mostly."

We arrive at the castle, and head inside, taking seats at our respective tables in the Great Hall. Hermione makes a point to sit as far away from me as possible.

"You want me to try to find out what the problem is with her?" Neville asks.

"Let's just watch the Sorting Ceremony for now," I say. "We can worry about it in the morning, if she's still in a snit by that point."

"Alright," Neville says.

The first years get filed into the room to be sorted. I watch carefully, alert for anything that seems different, although I can't quite remember who all was in which houses the first time around. Colin to Gryffindor, Luna to Ravenclaw, Ginny to Gryffindor... doesn't look like anything is different. That's good. I was afraid that whatever changes I've made might have caused even more unexpected complications.

I head up to my dormitory after the feast and try to get to sleep, but I find myself worried about Hermione. I don't understand it. Maybe she spotted something she thought sounded like a gaping hole in my story, or something, and didn't stick around long enough to hear an explanation for whatever it might have been. I'm starting to think that I should not have trusted my secrets to anyone but Tom Riddle, the only one who accepts me without question. Was it a mistake to tell Hermione at all?

The next morning, Hermione is still avoiding me and refusing to speak to me. I give a nod to Neville to try to talk to her in the common room before breakfast, and quietly listen in on their conversation. Which doesn't prove to be very difficult, as it soon degenerates into yelling. Maybe the common room wasn't the best place to do this.

"You don't understand!" Hermione says. "Imagine if he'd said that he was descended from Merlin!"

"I trust Harry," Neville says. "I'd take him at his word. How would I know that he's not, anyway?"

"But... argh!" Hermione says. "Maybe that was a bad example. I don't know. Wizards sometimes have trouble distinguishing reality!"

"Huh?" Neville says in confusion.

Hermione seems to realize that she's yelling at that point and lowers her voice, and I can't hear the remainder of their conversation. I really don't understand this. What does Merlin have to do with anything? And I know perfectly well that my father and grandfather weren't even from this world.

We head off to breakfast, and I put up a privacy spell and ask Neville, "So what did she say? Besides the part that was yelled to the entire common room. I got that part."

Neville makes a face. "I don't really understand it, either," Neville says. "She said a lot of things that didn't really make sense. Like the fact that you were obviously lying because those people you mentioned don't exist."

"Well, they must, considering that I'm here," I say, sighing. "I don't get it."

"Don't worry," Neville says. "I believe in you... Stormseeker. You've believed in me all this time. It's the least I can do."

I smile at him. "Thanks, Neville."

That evening, after dinner, I head up to my dorm for some privacy and pull out Tom Riddle's diary. I didn't bother writing in it yesterday, but after failing to resolve the situation with Hermione, I feel the need to let out some steam.

"Hello, Tom," I write. "It's me, Lexen."

"Hello, Lexen," comes the reply. "Are you back at Hogwarts yet?"

"Yeah," I write back. "We arrived back in school yesterday. Unfortunately, I made a mistake. I thought I could trust my friends with my secret. I told them who I really am. But one of them, Hermione, got upset about it for some reason and called me a liar, and stormed out. She's refusing to speak with me now."

"So, is Hermione Granger no longer your friend, then?" Tom asks.

I frown a little at that. "I still consider her my friend, even if she's upset with me. I'm sure she'll calm down and this will pass."

"I doubt that," Tom replies. "She is probably the sort who will accept nothing less than irrefutable proof of the truth before she will believe it."

"You may be right," I admit. "But I stand by my statement. I would still defend her with my life if need be, for what it's worth."

"I will not attempt to dissuade you from being foolish," Tom tells me.

"Now that I'm in the school, can you get me into the Chamber of Secrets?" I ask. "Maybe tonight, after curfew? I can easily avoid being detected. I have an invisbility cloak, after all."

"Perhaps," Tom answers.

"Perhaps?" I write.

"I don't think the connection is strong enough yet," Tom replies. "And the time of year is important, also. I suggest trying it on Halloween."

I frown in frustration. All he asked for last time was a bit of blood, but maybe this would require something more. "Dark magic is strong on that night," I write back thoughtfully.

"Yes," Tom states. "You are not averse to dark magic, from what you've told me."

"Not at all," I reply. "Very well. Let's try it on Halloween night, then."

I'm kind of dreading the repeat of my first class of Defense Against the Dark Arts with Gilderoy Lockhart. Maybe, without having made us buy all his books, he'll at least forego the quiz on what his favorite color is, but I don't trust him not to bring out the pixies again.

"Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts!" Lockhart says. "I am your new professor, Gilderoy Lockhart. But I'm sure many of you already know who I am." A couple of the girls, including Hermione, practically swoon at that. "Sadly, I was not permitted to assign my own books as this year's course books, but I'm sure many of you have picked up on this valuable reading material regardless. So why don't we start off today with a little quiz, shall we?"

I groan softly when I see the parchment that has been passed to me. Yes, he did indeed give a quiz on himself again. I stand up and say, "Pardon me, Mr. Lockhart, but I don't see how any of this is even relevant to the course objectives of Defense Against the Dark Arts, nor would it even be covered in our actual textbook."

Hermione casts me a horrified look and stands up. "I apologize, Professor Lockhart. Potter clearly doesn't appreciate your talent." So, I'm Potter now, am I?

"Indeed," Lockhart agrees. "Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter. Please sit down and begin your quiz."

I pointedly don't sit down, and Neville stands up as well. "Harry's right," Neville adds. "This... this is nonsense. And I refuse to do this quiz." He pulls out his wand and points it at the parchment, and says, "Incendio." The parchment obediently bursts into flames. I'm impressed. Neville just set something on fire intentionally.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Longbottom," Lockhart says.

Ron Weasley, of all people, stands up next. "You know, for once, I have to agree with Potter on something," Ron says. "How are we supposed to know any of this crap? And why does it matter?"

"Mr. Potter, detention for starting a revolt," Lockhart says.

"Why do I get detention for Ron speaking up?" I wonder. "Whatever. If you try to make me help you answer your fan mail, I'll take a cue from Neville and set it on fire."

"I would not stoop to giving you such a privelege in the guise of a punishment," Lockhart says.

I snort in amusement. "Why don't we just forget about this stupid quiz and you can bring out the pixies you were going to show us, so we can all see what a great wizard you are?"

"Ah, you caught a glimpse of them already?" Lockhart says. "I was hoping that they would be a surprise. Shame on you, Potter, for spoiling it for everyone."

I point my wand at the cloth covering the pixie cage, and say, "Wingardium Leviosa." The cloth lifts away, revealing the cage that, sure enough, is full of little blue winged creatures, clamoring to get out. "Yes, class, observe these fearsome Cornish pixies. Which aren't even actually a dark creature. Welcome to Defense Against Minor Nuisances."

Seamus and Dean, behind me, can't help but snicker in amusement.

"Do not underestimate them," Lockhart says. "They are pernicious creatures." He seems to have already forgotten about the quiz, and goes over to the cage to open it. "Let's see what you can do with them!"

Pixies streak out of the cage and proceed to wreck havoc throughout the classroom. They shred the remaining quizzes, knock over ink bottles, and break the window.

"This is how you handle them," Lockhart says, pulling out his wand. "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!" Nothing happens. The pixies grab Lockhart's wand and throw it out the window, and the would-be professor proceeds to hide under his desk.

"Was that even a real spell, Lockhart?" I say. "Alright, class. The best way to handle these pixies is to use the Freezing Charm. If you don't know how to cast it already, watch what I do. Immobulus!" The pixie directly in front of me goes still.

"Immobulus!" says Hermione, freezing another pixie.

Between Hermione and I, most of the pixies quickly get cleaned up, and I shove them back into the cage again and cast, "Colloportus." Lockhart's not going to be getting that open himself again. I point at a puddle of spilled ink and say, "Scourgify." The ink vanishes, and I head over to the window. Lockhart's wand got dropped somewhere below, but I don't really care. He's better off without it, anyway. "Reparo," I say, and the shattered window mends itself.

"Well, that was kind of fun," Seamus says.

"At least after Harry told us what to do," Dean says.

"What went wrong, Professor?" Lavender asks, looking at Lockhart plaintively, as if not wanting to believe that he's really a sham.

"I... well..." Lockhart stammers, climbing out from under his desk finally and straightening his robes. "It's clearly not my day, it would seem."

"I'm sure he was just nervous from his first day of teaching," Hermione says, although she only seems to half believe it herself.

"I vote Harry for Defense professor," Neville says.

"No way," I say. "I'm not falling victim to that curse."

"Assistant professor?" Neville suggests.

"Only if I get to demonstrate the spells, rather than Lockhart having me play the part of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf in re-enacting his supposed 'cure' incident."

"Hey, I'm the teacher here," Lockhart says.

"You don't count," I say. "I refuse to dignify you with the title of 'professor'. You're just a placeholder that's here to be harmless."

"I'm sorry, Professor," Hermione says. "I'm sure you're doing your best, but Potter being rude is simply uncalled for."

I wonder what Lockhart would think if he realized that the only reason he got the job is because I told Dumbledore that he's harmless. Well, mostly harmless, at least. Not outright evil, at any rate. Just kind of a moron. A very intelligent moron. An oxymoron.

"Forget it," I say, shaking my head. "If anyone wants to actually learn something, come find me in the common room or the Great Hall. Otherwise, I'll see you during exams." I head for the door.

"Potter!" Lockhart exclaims. "You can't just leave!"

"And why not?" I ask, turning to look at him.

"It's against the rules!" Lockhart insists.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," I drawl. "Oh, teacher, oh, I have to go to the loo! I drank way too much pumpkin juice!"

"That's quite enough, Potter!" Lockhart says.

"Look, Lockhart," I say. "You're here to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. You want me to stick around and behave myself in class? Then go through the spells listed in our course book. And if you can't cast them yourself, ask me or Hermione to demonstrate them for you. No pixies. No pointless stories. And no quizzes about your favorite color. Think you can do that?"

"Mr. Potter, I am the professor here, and you are out of line," Lockhart says. "You can't tell me how to teach my class!"

"I don't see that he's asking anything unreasonable," Neville says. "If we're not here to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts, what are we here for?"

"Now, I know perfectly well that Dumbledore won't fire you before the end of the year for anything short of being arrested," I say. "But that doesn't mean I need to waste my time on your class if you're not going to actually teach anything."

Neville gets up and stands by the door with me. "I'm with Harry," he says. "If you're not going to teach this class properly, why should I bother? I'd be better off practicing with Harry instead."

"Detention for both of you!" Lockhart cries.

"Come on, Neville," I say, heading out the door. Once out in the hallway, I say, "Let's go see Dumbledore."

"Heh," Neville says. "That was kind of fun, actually. He's way less scary than Snape." He snickers softly. "He hid under his desk from pixies! How does he honestly expect any sort of respect?"

Chuckling softly, I make my way to the headmaster's office. Once outside, I tell the gargoyle, "Hershey kisses," and it moves aside.

"You know the password to the headmaster's office?" Neville says, eyes wide.

I wink at him and head inside and up the stairs. Dumbledore looks up from his desk and sets down the quill he was scribbling with, and says, "Ah, what can I do for you today... Harry?"

"Don't worry," I say. "I've told Neville everything. You can speak freely."

"I see," Dumbledore says. "Are you sure that was wise, Stormseeker?"

"There is no one in this world that I trust more than Neville," I say. Neville swells up with pride beside me.

"Very well," Dumbledore says. "But shouldn't you boys be in class? Did something happen?"

"Please ask Lockhart to actually teach his class, rather than unleashing pixies upon a room full of twelve year olds without even suggesting what they should do first," I say.

Dumbledore sighs and puts his forehead in his palm. "He did that?"

"He also gave us detention for protesting his questionable teaching methods," I say. "After, mind you, we re-captured the pixies and cleaned up the room."

"Technically, he only gave me detention afterward," Neville says. "He gave you detention after Ron agreed that his quiz was stupid."

"Quiz?" Dumbledore asks.

"The first question was 'What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?', and it just went downhill from there," I reply.

"You know I can't afford to fire him, Stormseeker," Dumbledore says. "Also, it was you who recommended him to me as harmless."

"Useless but harmless, were my words, I believe," I say. "I'm not suggesting firing him. Just asking him to actually try to do the job you hired him for. That hardly seems like too much to ask for. And if he refuses, there are plenty of ways to encourage him short of firing him."

"Such as?" Dumbledore says.

"Having him play target dummy for Snape during Dueling Club sessions," I say. "We are still doing that this year, aren't we?"

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore says. "Severus has agreed to continue to host the Dueling Club." He frowns a little. "I'm afraid I must ask the two of you to serve your detentions, however. Discipline must be maintained, after all, and from the sounds of things, you did cause a disruption in class."

"Lockhart's pixies caused a bigger disruption," I say, shrugging.

"However, I'll take your detentions myself, and we can practice Neville's Occlumency during the time period," Dumbledore says, eyes twinkling.

"Thank you, sir," I say, grinning.