Stormseeker: Borrowed Destiny

"Any luck with talking to Hermione, Dean?" I ask in our dorm room.

Dean shakes his head. "She wouldn't tell me anything. She just said that she thought you were a liar without explaining why. But she did say that you have your secrets, and she won't be the one to make them public if you don't."

"I see," I say, frowning a bit. "Maybe she's not a lost cause after all."

Dean goes downstairs again, leaving me alone in the dormitory. I lean back against my bed, thinking. Maybe I should bring out the diary. Tom Riddle might have some ideas on what to do about this situation. As I'm considering that, Rispy pops into the room in front of me.

"Hello, Rispy," I say. "How are you doing? Still helping out Kettleburn and Hagrid?"

Rispy nods. "Yeah. Sorry I haven't come to visit sooner. We've been awfully busy getting things settled for the latest batch of third years. I'm sure you've been busy too. Hermione has come to visit me, though."

"Ah, did she?" I say. "I don't suppose she said anything about me, did she?"

"Yeah, that's why I came to see you," Rispy says, chuckling. "I couldn't believe that you were a backstabbing liar who couldn't be trusted. I owe you my freedom, after all, and you asked for nothing in return, so instead I'm left to wonder what happened to cause Hermione to believe this?"

"It's all a big misunderstanding, I'm sure," I say, sighing. "I'm just trying to figure out how to get her to even speak with me again. And worse, her birthday is coming up." Something dawns on me, and I say, "Hmm. I have an idea. I'd like to introduce you to the rest of my group, for starters. Can you meet us in the room by the sleeping dragon tapestry in about thirty minutes?"

"Sure," Rispy says, waves, and vanishes.

I head down to the common room, where Neville is sitting with Dean. I come up to them and whisper, "Gather Storm Army, meet in the usual room in half an hour. I'll get the Slytherins."

"Yes, sir," Neville snaps off with a cheerful grin.

I head out of the Gryffindor Tower and down to the dungeons, up to the entrance of the Slytherin section. "Pureblood," I say. No effect. They must have changed it. Oh well, it was worth a shot.

"What are you doing down here, Potter?" says a voice from behind me. I turn to see one of the older students, a prefect.

"I was looking to speak with my friends," I say. "Could you tell Draco Malfoy that I'm looking for him, please?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever," says the prefect lazily. "But no eavesdropping on our password."

"Sorry," I say. "I'll wait by the stairs."

I head off down the corridor. I don't have to wait more than a minute before Draco comes up, followed by Crabbe and Goyle, as well as Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, for some reason.

"I didn't expect the whole lot of you, but it's good," I say.

"Couldn't let Malfoy have all the fun," Blaise says.

"I just wanted to see what you were up to," Theodore says.

"Well, if you want in on this, I'm meeting up with everyone in the room next to the tapestry with the sleeping dragon," I say.

"Definitely," Blaise says.

"Let's go," Draco says.

By the time we get there, Neville, Dean, and a handful of Ravenclaws are already present, including Luna, of course. And one Hufflepuff, Justin Finch-Fletchley, also showed up.

"Justin's here too?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"We ran into him in the Great Hall and he decided to tag along," Neville says.

"Should we throw him out, boss?" Crabbe asks.

I shake my head. "He's perfectly welcome," I say. "I won't be divulging any grand secrets here. The only person this needs to be kept a secret from for the moment is Hermione." I give a small grin. "I think I know how we might be able to get Hermione on our side again."

"How is that?" Draco asks.

"The house-elves," I say. "Ron was never supportive of SPEW. If we can show her that we still believe in the same causes, maybe that'll restore her faith in me."

"Brilliant!" Draco says. "That's a Slytherin sort of plan if I ever heard one."

"Does that mean we have to wear those stupid buttons again?" Goyle asks. The irony of Goyle calling something stupid isn't lost on me.

"Yes, you have to wear those stupid buttons again," Draco says, rolling his eyes.

"Alright, guys," I say. "Hermione's birthday is on September 19th."

Rispy appears in the room, causing everyone to turn toward him in surprise. "Sorry, am I late?"

"Just on time, Rispy," I say. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet Rispy, a free elf."

"Hello, Rispy," Neville says.

There's murmuring and surprise among the group. Even those who hadn't previously heard of house-elves found out about them because of Hermione's SPEW campaign last year. Still, since they're all first or second years, they haven't run across Rispy themselves yet.

"You don't all have to stare at me like I'm some sort of exhibit," Rispy says.

"Sorry, Rispy," Justin says.

"The Stormseeker has some strange allies," Draco says, addressing the crowd. "But that's just why he will succeed where others have failed. He will shake the wizarding world to its foundations, and bring about a new age of glory for wizardkind!"

"Thanks for the speech, Draco," I say, grinning.

"So what do you have planned for Hermione's birthday?" Neville says.

"What if we could turn it into a special event?" I say. "Maybe some sort of House-Elf Appreciation Day."

"Head?" Neville says, raising an eyebrow.

I smirk. "Well, at least it's better than SPEW..."

"Why specifically house-elves?" Rispy says with a frown. "Why not make it Elf Pride Day?"

"Because the point isn't for the elves, but for the wizards," I say. "Too many wizards don't appreciate what their house-elves do for them."

"It still encourages slavery," Rispy says.

"What are we going to do?" Draco says. "Suggest that the elves take a day off or something?"

"That's a good idea, Draco," I say.

"I... uh... yeah, thanks," Draco says, snorting softly.

"Have wizards do all the work the house-elves normally do?" Blaise says, raising an eyebrow.

"That's a great idea," Theodore says.

"It's an interesting thought," Justin says. "But would the Headmaster go along with it?"

"I don't see why not," I say. "It's not like we'd be doing anything against the rules."

"Do any of us even know how to cook?" Draco says.

"Only with a microwave," Dean says.

"What's a microwave?" Draco wonders.

"It's... a Muggle thing that cooks stuff," Dean says. "So, not helpful."

"Alright," I say. "I think we're going to need to get some of the older students in on this, then."

"I can ask the Hufflepuffs," Justin offers. "I'm sure some of them, especially the other Muggleborns, might be able to help with that."

"Should I ask the Ravenclaws?" Luna wonders.

"No way," Mandy Brocklehurst says. "They'd never listen to you. I'll do it."

"Mandy," I say firmly. "It will please me if you did not speak to Luna in such a way. Even if it's true."

Mandy opens her mouth as if to make a sharp retort, then looks away sheepishly and murmurs, "Sorry."

I nod. "Remember, we're in this together. I expect everyone on my side to treat one another with respect, even if it does not always seem as though they deserve it. Regardless of who they are, what house they are in, who their parents were, how much money they have, how smart or brave they are, or even what species they are."

"Thank you, Stormseeker," Luna says softly, giving me a small smile.

"Aye," Rispy agrees.

"Does that include us, boss? Goyle and me?" Crabbe asks.

"I expect you to treat others with respect, too," I say.

"No, I mean. Do we get to be treated with respect ourselves?"

I stare at him, gaping a little. I hadn't really expected this sort of thing from him. "Of course," I say sharply. "I did say everyone, and I meant it."

"What, treat them like equals?" Draco says incredulously.

"Equality is meaningless," I say. "I said respect. Nobody is 'equal' -- what does that even mean, anyway? But everyone has value. Everyone has worth. Some people are better at some things than others. Not everyone can be good at everything. The contributions of anyone should not be discounted."

"I see," Draco says thoughtfully. "I suppose it would be hard to win a game of chess with just the queen."

"Does that make me a pawn, then?" Dean says.

"Can I be a rook?" Neville asks.

I snort softly. "We can skip the extensive chess metaphors. That's Ron's thing, after all. Anyway, it's almost lunch. You all know what to do. Let's get this thing rolling, shall we?"

At lunchtime, in the Great Hall, it appears that someone has erected two banners on either side of the room. Over the Gryffindor table hangs a banner with a bright yellow and gold sun. Over the Slytherin table, there's a banner with a stylized lightning bolt shooting down out of black clouds.

As I pass by the Gryffindor table, Ron says, "You are not welcome to sit with the Sun Army, Stormseeker."

"I wasn't planning to darken your table, Sunshine Weasel," I say dryly, earning sniggers from a couple Slytherins who overhear me.

Ron's face turns almost as red as his hair at that comment.

"Just ignore him," says a Gryffindor prefect girl. "You can sit wherever you please."

"Thanks," I say. "But I think I'd rather go eat with my friends." I head over to the Slytherin table, quickly followed by Neville and Dean.

I find it a little amusing that it's only been a day since the Dueling Club incident, but this has already spread like wildfire. At least amongst the first and second years, at any rate. The older students seem to be kind of rolling their eyes and humoring us for the most part. It's a little strange to see Colin Creevey looking up to Ron instead of fawning over me, though. Maybe the upcoming Event will change a few people's minds about me.

Keeping this a secret from Hermione seems like it would take a miracle. Clearly she's starting to suspect something, as students quickly go quiet or change the topic when she comes near them. Hermione frowns, no doubt wondering what everyone is up to, sniffs disdainfully and walks away.

Lockhart's classes have been going much better. Rumor has it that Snape threatened to take away his wand again and force him to use a foam one if there's ever a repeat of the pixie incident. I don't know whether this is true or not, but it amuses me to think so, and I really wouldn't put it past Snape to do something like that.

Over the next two weeks, Ron changes the name of his group to the Day Army, then the Daylight Army, and then to just the Light Army. More and more students are choosing sides, although I have no idea how many of them are serious about it and how many of them are just thinking that it's a bit of good fun.

And then the day of the event finally arrives. I head down for the kitchens first thing in the morning. I've only managed to recruit a handful of older students who know their way around a kitchen, but received a number of volunteers from others in various years who are willing to give it a try. So the lot of us meet down in the kitchens, along with Rispy, who came along to at least try to help explain things to the house-elves.

"Breakfast not ready yet," one of the house-elves says. "We starts soon. You wants drinks?"

"Actually, we're doing something a little different today," I say. "The Headmaster has given his blessing, too."

"We've all got the day off," Rispy says, grinning broadly.

"Huh?" the house-elf says in puzzlement.

"No cooking, no cleaning, no working," Rispy says. "The wizards will be doing the work today."

"But... but..." the house-elf says. "What will we do, then?"

I give a suave bow toward the cluster of elves that have gathered. "It would please me if you would notify all of the house-elves in the castle and gather in the Great Hall. We have much planned for the day, and I would hate for anyone to miss out on it."

I'm thankful that Hermione's birthday happened to fall on a Saturday this year. We wouldn't have nearly enough time to do everything we have planned and still go to classes. As it is, I'm sure plenty of us will be cramming in time for homework later. But it'll be work it. This is going to be awesome.

"But, we just wants to work," says another confused house-elf.

"You just want to make the wizards happy, don't you?" I say. "Come on. Dumbledore's orders. No work today. All elves to the Great Hall. Go along with Rispy."

Still confused, the house-elves spread word of their new orders and clear out the kitchen. They look a little more unhappy that I'd hoped for, but that went better than I'd expected, at least. With that little obstacle out of the way, it's time to get breakfast started. The ones who actually know about cooking take up supervising positions, while the rest of us make up a small army of walking disasters. And a disaster it is.

"Man," Dean says. "I didn't realize cooking was so complicated."

"It's as bad as Potions," Neville agrees.

"Except it's less likely to blow up and give you boils if you do something wrong," Draco says with a smirk. I can hardly believe that even he is down here attempting to cook. "This isn't so bad, really."

"Turns out I'm just as bad at cooking as I am at Potions," I comment dryly.

"Keep at it, Stormseeker!" Neville says. "You can do it!"

"You're encouraging me now?" I say, grinning. "That's a nice switch. Alright, I'll try this cake again."

After two failures with making up the cake batter, the third attempt bakes up nicely into a satisfactory white cake. Third time's the charm, I suppose. Not too sweet or sugary, since I remember Hermione's parents are tooth healers so she tends to avoid sweets, but I hope it's still good enough. I pull out the icing to start decorating it, but one of the older students stop me.

"Let the cake cool before decorating it," she advises.

"Oh, oops, thank you," I say.

I take a moment to look around the kitchen. There have been a number of small disasters around the kitchen. Meals ruined, pancakes scorched, an entire dozen eggs spilled on the floor. But strangely, it seems like everyone is having fun. Several girls are laughing even at their own horrible failures.

"I think this was a great idea, Harry," Neville says. "I think a lot of us never really appreciated everything the house-elves do for us every day. Can I help you decorate Hermione's cake?"

"Sure," I say. "I wonder if it's cool enough now." I absently poke at it a little.

"Be patient," says the older girl. "Leave the poor thing along for a few minutes."

I go over to help clean up some of the messes that have been made around the room in the meantime. Then I head over to ice the cake with Neville. "Not too much icing," I say. "Just a little. There we go..." It's not perfect or even, and there's a few random gouges in the cake, but it should be edible enough. "Now to figure out how to work this thing..." I peer at the odd, funnel like object.

"I'll show you," says the older girl. "Here, hold it like this." I take it and imitate what she does. "Yes, like that. And squeeze it like so..."

Clumsily, I write the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY HERMIONE on the top of the cake. The letters are a bit deformed, I didn't have enough room for the Y's on the top and wound up putting them on the sides, and a fair bit of extra icing had to be scraped off due to having a little accident with it, but it's done.

"I did it!" I say, grinning excitedly. "I hope Hermione likes her cake."

I carefully carry it upstairs to the Great Hall. It wouldn't do, after all that effort, to just fall down, drop it, run into someone, or something. In the Great Hall, a huge banner has been raised with the words HOUSE-ELF APPRECIATION DAY, hand-made by a number of members of Storm Army. The elves are all seated at the four house tables, most of them looking quite stunned and confused. A few of them seem to be crying.

Up front, a few older students have put together a small band on short notice, with a Ravenclaw seventh year girl singing a song she wrote about house-elves. They aren't particularly good, and the song is pretty strained, the rhymes very forced at times, but it's the thought that counts.

Hermione is just coming into the room for breakfast, and her jaw drops, eyes looking like they're about to pop out of their sockets at the sight. Stunned, she goes over to take a seat at the Gryffindor table next to Ron.

"This is all so stupid," Ron says, sighing. "Why would anyone want to make a day for house-elves? They like being enslaved!"

Hermione glares at him and says, "I'm not speaking to you, Ron." She promptly stands up and moves over to the Ravenclaw table.

I turn and head over there instead, and set the cake down in front of her. "Happy birthday, Hermione," I say. "I, er, made this myself. I hope it's alright." Hermione gapes at the cake, and I quickly add, "It's alright if you still don't want to talk to me. But I wanted to do something for your birthday anyway."

"Are you responsible for all of this?" Hermione exclaims.

"Well, it wasn't just me," I say. "It took an awful lot of coordination and work. You should see the small army of students down in the kitchens trying to cook."

"But I mean," Hermione says. "It was your idea, right?"

"Actually, the elves taking the day off was Draco's idea, technically," I say lightly.

Draco comes up behind me and says, "Oh, quit trying to downplay your own role in this. Everyone knows this happened because of you."

Neville shows up, carrying a small box. "I found some candles for the cake!" I don't know where he might have found them, but they're tiny candles in pastel pink, yellow, and blue. He goes and carefully puts thirteen candles upon Hermione's cake.

"Oh, you guys..." Hermione says. There are tears in her eyes. "You don't do anything in half measures, do you?"

Draco laughs softly. "You got that right. Here, I made you something." He pulls out a bit of folded parchment with too much glitter attached to it, and passes it over to her.

"You made me a birthday card?" Hermione says, blinking as she takes it and looks at it.

"I was bored and had some free time, okay?" Draco says. "It's not like I like you or anything."

Hermione giggles loudly at that. "'Dear Ravenclaw's secret heir, I think you're okay.'"

Neville and I peer over to look at it. "Complete with flowers, butterflies, and songbirds," Neville says.

"Nice charm work getting them to move like that," I say.

"I was really bored," Draco insists.

"I'll bet you were," Hermione says, and spontaneously leans over to give him a peck on the cheek.

"Gah!" Draco says. "Don't do that! Someone will get the wrong idea!"

Hermione just laughs aloud. It's good to see her happy and smiling again. "Alright, guys," she says. "You," she points to me, "are going to have a nice long talk with me. Later. Or tomorrow. But for now, I'll just take this gesture at face value. Why don't we try out this lovely cake of yours?"

"Thanks, Hermione," I say, grinning.

"Harry, I must say, I had my doubts at first, but this has been a lovely day," Dumbledore tells me in the Great Hall toward the end of dinner.

By this point, even the Weasley twins have gotten into the act, entertaining the house-elves with batches of fireworks. I'm not sure whether it's because they agreed with the cause, or just want to take any excuse to have fun. Probably the latter, but I'll take what I can get. The house-elves, for the most part, brightened considerably after seeing how into this many of the students are.

"I'll tentatively call it a success, sir," I say with a small grin.

The food that got served in the Great Hall has been not exactly the tastiest feast in the history of Hogwarts. Dessert today is full of flattened cakes, brownies that someone forgot to add sugar to, and pies that are nothing more than a fruit soup inside of a soggy crust. It's been fun and all, but it's probably just as well that the day will be over soon.

"Headmaster," says Dean, approaching with a bowl full of... something. "Would you like to try my cookies?"

I blink and peer into the bowl. "Was that supposed to be chocolate-chip cookies?"

"Yeah," Dean says, snickering. "Probably best to eat them with a spoon now, though."

"Ah, thank you, Mr. Thomas, I'd be delighted," Dumbledore says, taking the bowl from him and munching on a spoonful of crumbled cookies. "They're delicious."

"You can have the rest, then," Dean says, grinning.

"Thank you," Dumbledore says. "I do love sweets, you know."

Back in the common room after curfew, Hermione says, "Thanks for today, you guys." She smiles at me, Neville, and Dean, and casts a glare across the room at Ron and Seamus. "I think I can see who my real friends are, now. Even if..." Hermione gives me a long look.

"Do you want to talk about that, now?" I say.

"Yes, I think we'd best," Hermione says.

Dean says, "Should I leave?"

"No, you can stay, Dean," I say. "Just please promise me that you if you want to never speak to me again, you'll at least tell me why first?"

"Alright," Dean says. "I promise."

"Muffliato," I say. "Okay, where were we before?" I sigh. "I'd been just trying to explain that I'm not actually Harry Potter, but an interdimensional traveler who took his place because I kind of look like him."

Dean blinks at me. "When was this? You act like you always have, so far as I've seen."

"Harry Potter died at the age of five," I say. "Any appearance of him after that has been me. So yeah, it's not like anyone had even seen him recently anyway, so it was pretty easy to fit in."

"And then there was the part about your family," Hermione says flatly.

"Yeah," I say. "My mother's name was Anara Chelseer. My father was Anakin Skywalker. He was from a universe we called 'The Galaxy Far, Far Away', for some reason. He was some sort of powerful wizard there, called a Jedi..."

Hermione rubs her temples, and Dean just blinks at me. "Is that what you were upset at him about, Hermione?" Dean asks.

Hermione nods. "And about his grandfather, too."

"My grandfather was named Raistlin Majere," I say. "He was a powerful wizard from a world named Krynn. Mind you, I've never actually met either one of them. I've only heard what my family has told me about them, which isn't really all that much."

"I haven't heard of that one," Dean says. "But do you mean to tell me that your father is Darth Vader? Seriously?"

"I don't know of any Darth Vader," I say, frowning in confusion. "My father is Anakin Skywalker."

"So, what, you don't know that you're claiming your father is the Dark Lord of the Sith, and that your grandfather is an evil mage of the Black Robes who tried to attain godhood?" Hermione says.

"I... what?" I say, looking at her in shock and blinking repeatedly.

Hermione watches me carefully and frowns thoughtfully. "So you really don't know," Hermione says. "You don't know that there have been books and movies about them?"

"What's a movie?" I wonder.

"Muggle entertainment," Dean explains. "Moving pictures with sound, telling a story."

"Alright... so..." Hermione says. "You're either a very good actor, or you're not lying. Either your family was lying to you, or you're somehow telling the truth, however impossible that might seem..."

"I swear, I'm not lying to you, Hermione," I say.

"But how could this possibly be true?" Hermione says. "They're fictional. They aren't real. They don't exist."

"Didn't you think magic and wizards didn't exist before receiving your Hogwarts letter?" I ask.

"I suppose that's true," Hermione admits. "But this is something very specific."

"I told you about the Elkandu, didn't I?" I say. "They're a group of wizards who travel to different worlds, different universes, through the teleportation device called the Nexus. It's capable of taking someone almost anywhere. It doesn't really surprise me that people here have stories about different worlds. I just... well, I didn't think my family was, you know, evil or anything..."

"I want to see this Nexus for myself," Hermione says.

I chew on my lower lip. "I'd love to do that, Hermione, but I'm not sure if it's safe."

"Safe?" Hermione repeats.

"Yeah," I say. "I don't know if the Dark Elkandu still have control of the place or not."

"You've never gone back to find out?" Hermione says. "You said before that you're immortal and can't die, so what do you really have to lose?"

"You make a very good point," I say. "I'll admit that I've been afraid to look. The Dark Knight is... very powerful. God-like, really. He could do whatever he wanted to me, if I gave him reason to. And then, I suppose, there's the fact that so long as I remain here, I don't have to face the fact that my family is probably dead..."

"I'm sorry," Hermione says quietly. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just, well, a lot to accept without any sort of proof, you know?"

"I know," I say, smiling at her reassuringly. "Tell you what. I'll see what I can do. Failing that, I'll convince Dumbledore to let us use his Pensieve for a little bit. Alright?"

"Alright," Hermione says. "I should get to bed. I have a lot to think about. Good night."