Stormseeker: Borrowed Destiny

The last Quidditch game of the year is Slytherin versus Hufflepuff. As I had before, I put on green and prepare to go out to the stands to cheer on Slytherin.

"Should we really still be doing this?" Neville wonders.

"Why not?" I say.

"Well, Draco kind of seems to hate us now," Neville says.

"He's obligated to," I say. "But I made a promise, and I intend to stick with it, even so." I snicker softly. "Besides, I think the other members of the Slytherin Quidditch team like me better at the moment, anyway."

"That's because they think you're a Dark Lord baby or something," Neville says.

"Oh well," I say.

The Daily Prophet has been rife with speculation about my parentage this year. I've been trying to ignore it for the most part, although it hasn't made Dumbledore too happy with me. I would really hate to be in his shoes trying to do damage control for all of this mess.

Draco winds up catching the Snitch, winning Slytherin the Quidditch Cup for the year.

Toward the end of the school year, the Ministry of Magic sends over an Auror to adminster the exams for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Myrtle had managed to teach primarily from telling stories and having students like Hermione and I demonstrate the actual spells. This proved little different from classes with Lockhart, except that Myrtle was more amusing.

And then, the final rounds of the Dueling Club tournament take place on the last Saturday in the year. For the semi-finals, we have Theodore facing off with Ernie MacMillan, and myself versus Hermione.

"Go, Ernie!" Ron calls out as the two of them step up to the stage. "You show them! Dumbledore's Army will succeed!"

"I don't know if Dumbledore would entirely approve of you using his name like that," I point out, but Ron ignores me.

Theodore is a lot better than most people give him credit for. He has a downplayed subtlety and finesse. He never shows off, or makes any flashy, unnecessary moves, and yet he succeeds nonetheless. Ernie hardly knows what hit him.

Then, Hermione and I step up onto the stage. Much as I hate to admit it, Hermione is already way better than me at magic in general. However, she's made her way through this tournament off pure skill and not actual combat prowess. Perhaps I can find a way to defeat her through that advantage. Either way, however, this is going to be one tough fight.

I start off on the offensive, but she smoothly counters every curse I cast, and returns swiftly with a volley of spells of her own. That's a problem. She can cast faster than me, too. She just plain knows the spells better. I barely manage to dodge and counter every curse she flings at me in that batch.

"Frigipes!" Hermione casts, and suddenly the floor beneath my feet is cold and slick as ice. I barely manage to maintain my balance, but she quickly takes advantage of the momentary distraction. "Tarantallegra!" My feet start dancing on their own, causing me to slip and fall on the slick surface. "Expelliarmus!" And then my wand goes flying out of my hand.

"Match goes to Granger," Snape says, canceling the spells with a wave of his wand.

"Good job, Hermione," I say, standing up and giving her a bow. I go back to take a seat with the others, feeling a little dejected. I had really expected to win. Am I not good enough? I guess I still have a long way to go yet.

There's a short break before the next match, and then Theodore and Hermione face off on stage. Me, I'm just trying not to sulk over here. I should be proud of Hermione. Reasonably, logically, I tell myself that. But I just can't quite get over the feeling that I lost. I mentally sigh and make myself run through an Occlumency exercise, sending my anger and resentment into the raging storm of emotions around my mind.

"Match goes to Nott," Snape says. Damn, I wasn't even paying attention the duel. "And that concludes this year's Hogwarts Dueling Club tournament. The title of second year Hogwarts dueling champion goes to Theodore Nott! One hundred points to Slytherin for the victory."

"You did well, Hermione," Theodore is saying as they leave the stage. "You made it all the way to the finals."

"I did well, for a Mudblood?" Hermione replies.

"I didn't say that," Theodore says. "You're the best witch in our year, hands down."

Hermione just beams at that.

At the end of year feast, Slytherin is awarded the House Cup. I'd love to go over there and celebrate with them, but I content myself with shooting off green sparks from my wand, and having half of the Gryffindors glaring at me and grumbling.

As we gather up onto the Hogwarts Express, I'm nervous and excited. We're laying a trap for Lockhart. I'm just terrified that everything is going to wind up going horribly wrong. Again.

"So, is everyone ready?" I ask. I'm sharing a compartment with Hermione, Neville, and Theodore.

"I'm still not sure about this," Hermione says. "What are we going to do to him if we can catch him?"

"Kill him," I say fiercely. "If you're feeling squeamish, don't worry about it. I'll finish him myself."

"Can't we just turn him in and get him sent to prison?" Hermione wonders.

"The Ministry isn't going to recognize his crimes," Theodore says. "He has everyone fooled well enough."

"I'm more worried about getting caught," Neville says. "Won't someone realize that he's missing?"

"Maybe we should send a letter to the Daily Prophet or something," Theodore says. "Tell them that Lockhart is going on a world tour before retiring quietly to an undisclosed location to get out of the spotlight."

"Good idea," I say.

"And then there's the fact that we're not supposed to use magic over the summer," Hermione says.

"That's why Neville's grandmother is coming along," I say. "We talked about this before. We aren't going to get in any trouble if there's an adult wizard around. It's just unsupervised magic that would be problematic."

"You mean everyone else can practice their magic over the summer?" Hermione says. "It seems to me like that law is mostly just discrimination against Muggleborns..."

"Pretty much, yeah," Theodore says, shrugging.

"My gran doesn't even let me practice over the summer," Neville says.

"Well, you're both welcome to come visit my place after this is over," Theodore says. "My father doesn't care what I do."

The Hogwarts Express pulls into Kings Cross Station, and we disembark. Augusta Longbottom is there to greet us on the magical side of the barrier.

"There you are, Neville," Augusta says. "These are your friends? Ah, the Potter boy. I'm glad you finally came to your senses and broke off your association with those awful Malfoys. Come along, children. Let's get your things. The Grangers are waiting for us outside."

One we collect our trunks, we head out past the barrier. Hermione's parents are casually loitering nearby, and they wave to us when they spot us. We head over toward them.

"It's so nice that Hermione has made so many friends in school," says Mrs. Granger. "Come along. Our car is parked nearby."

"Muggle contraptions," Augusta mutters when she gets a look at the vehicle. "Are you certain that this thing is safe?"

"It's got to be safer than the car I hear the Weasleys have," I say. This one is a different shape, painted dark blue and with a sliding door on the side.

"It'll probably be a tight fit, though," Mr. Weasley says. "I don't know where we're going to put all the trunks. It's a good thing we've got a minivan, though."

"Oh," Augusta says. "Why didn't you say so? One moment." She glances around to make sure that no one is looking, and shrinks down our trunks to where they'll fit in our pockets.

"Thanks, Gran," Neville says, pocketing his miniature trunk.

The seven of us proceed to pile into the vehicle. We all manage to fit without the use of magic, but there wouldn't really be room for anyone else.

"I suppose this isn't so bad," Augusta admits as we ride off.

The Granger household is a strange place. I've never been in an actual Muggle house before. Everything just feels a little bit wrong.

"Hmm," Augusta says, looking around the place. "Acceptable. Where should I put my things?"

"We have two spare rooms," Mr. Granger says. "I suppose you can have one and we can put the boys in the other. I'm afraid they don't have actual beds in them, however. I hope you don't mind a hideaway, Mrs. Longbottom."

"A what?" Augusta wonders.

When the adults wander upstairs, I say, "Alright. Let's get started. We need to put protections over every possible entrance to the house."

"All of the windows, too?" Hermione says.

"He could sneak in anywhere," I say. "I don't want to leave him any possible easy avenue."

"Are we to be prisoners in my home, then?" Hermione wonders.

"Certainly not," I say. "The protections are only really needed so we can sleep in peace. When we're awake and alert, we can defend each other. We just need to make sure never to go anywhere alone."

"I don't like living like this," Hermione says.

"I know," I say wearily. "Neither do I. But we will live, nonetheless."

Everything is in place. Wards and charms and contingency spells. The best that four children who have just finished their second year can manage, and then some. Come on, Lockhart, you bastard. Come and step into my trap.

It's hard to sleep at night in these unfamiliar surroundings, not the least of which because I'm so nervous and excited. Our transfigured blankets aren't nearly as comfortable as the beds in the Gryffindor dormitory, but that's not my main problem. If I let myself, I'll stay awake nervously waiting for Lockhart to show up until I pass out from exhaustion.

Hermione tries to distract me and cheer me up a bit by finally showing me the Star Wars movies and the Dragonlance books. I'm still not quite clear on the concept of this all being 'fiction', but I can see now why she would be concerned about my parentage.

One night, a week into summer holiday, I wake to a strange sensation. Someone has crossed the boundaries of the household wards. Either Lockhart, or some random burglar. It doesn't matter, they shouldn't be here regardless. I wake Neville and Theodore.

"Is he here?" Theodore whispers.

"Let's get him," Neville says.

We quietly step out into the hallway and stand side by side. At the end of the hall, there's a corner that leads down to the stairs. We managed a pretty clever contingency spell on the patch of carpet there. When someone steps on it at night, it will light up. It doesn't need to be able to detect someone that's invisible, just realize that something stepped on it. And, sure enough, after a minute, it lights up with seemingly nothing standing on top of it.

"Fulgoris!" I cast.

"Expelliarmus!" casts Neville.

"Stupefy!" casts Theodore.

Lightning strikes nothing, a wand goes flying, and something thumps to the ground.

"Ambush successful, motherfucker," I mutter, going over to poke at the invisible object and pull off the cloak. Sure enough, there's Lockhart, unconscious on the glowing floor. I stuff the cloak back into my bag. I'm not letting that thing out of my sight again.

I'm thankful that we thought to put charms to dampen sound over everyone's doors, on the excuse of making it easier to sleep for being quieter. It wouldn't do to have Augusta Longbottom interrupt a murder, after all.

"Mobilicorpus," I say, levitating Lockhart's body downstairs. "No more games. It's time to put an end to this once and for all."

"You're really scary when you're angry," Neville comments.

"Yes, I fucking am," I say. "Fulgoris!" Lightning shoots through Lockhart's body. "Fulgoris! Fulgoris! FULGORIS!" I pour all of my rage and hate into the curse. I find myself giggling a little giddily at the sensation of casting the spell. My blood boils in anger, and my mind is a furious storm.

"I think you can stop now, Stormseeker," Theodore says quietly.

Neville is looking at me wide-eyed, as if I've just transformed into a monster before his eyes. As I let out another uncontrollable giggle, I have to wonder if I have. I pant softly, putting my hands on my knees, and look down at the floor, trying to center myself again.

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

Theodore pokes over Lockhart's body, relieving him of his possessions in addition to the wand that he already picked up. Me, I'm still reeling with the sensation of almost losing myself to the thrill of murdering someone with dark magic. If I mere Lightning Curse could do this to me, what would the Unforgiveable Curses be like? I'm not sure that I want to continue that line of thought.

"He came after all?" says Hermione's voice, coming down the stairs. "I was kind of hoping that he'd prove you wrong and stay away... but I guess you were right after all..."

"So... What are we going to do with the body?" Neville asks.

"Give me a moment," I say, sitting down and putting my face in my hands, gathering myself.

I don't want to be a monster. Lockhart made himself my enemy, but I should not have enjoyed killing him so much. I find myself trembling, and tears come to my eyes unbidden.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this, Gilderoy," I whisper. "We could have been friends, had things been different." But it was my own choices that led me to this path. There are always choices. Always.

"Are you alright?" Neville asks.

"No," I reply, shaking uncontrollably. "No, I'm not. Fuck."

I'm only fourteen, and my list of things I will never do again is already far longer than I would like it to be.

"I'm a monster," I murmur. "I'm a horrible person. I won't blame any of you if you decide to hate me for this. I just murdered someone. I just fucking murdered someone..."

Hermione comes up and puts her hand on my shoulder. I glance up at her, and see that there are tears in her eyes as well. "I don't blame you," she says. "You... you were trying to protect me. I suppose I should feel, I don't know, honored or something that someone is willing to kill for me. But... you're not a monster if you can still feel bad about it, even if it was necessary."

For a fleeting moment, I consider killing myself. Going back to earlier tonight, and doing this over. I could stun Lockhart, and make him promise to leave me and my friends alone. Tell him to go away and never come back. When it comes down to it, I don't really care what he claims. I just want my friends to be safe. But I dismiss the thought. He would never agree to it. He might still attack me and my friends anyway. And most importantly... I'm not going to abandon the people here carelessly.

"We should take care of the body," Theodore says softly. "Before someone else happens to wake up."

"You're right," I say, sighing. "Let's... let's just take it out back and burn it."

We take him out onto the back patio and all cast Incendio at the body until there is nothing left of him but ashes, and then Scourgify what's left of that. And that's that. Still, I don't think any of us is going to be getting any more sleep tonight.

True friends help you dispose of the bodies, I suppose. But it's a heavy weight on my heart realizing what I've asked of them. This was too much to ask of thirteen year old children, I think. They're not ready for this. Abyss, I'm not ready for this.

"Was this all a mistake?" I ask quietly.

"I've been telling you that for months," Hermione says.

"It had to be done," Theodore says.

"He had it coming to him," Neville says.

I step out from under the awning and look up at the sky. The moonless sky is clear tonight, but it's hard to see the stars with all the lights in the city. It's not like Hogwarts, where you can see everything on a clear night. Still, what stars I can see are a bit of a comfort to me. Tiny sparks of hope in the darkness of the night.

"Sometimes I feel like all I'm really left with are regrets piling up on top of regrets," I say distantly. "When you live a life just forward, without any deviations backward or to the sides, you can't really think too much about what might have been, what could have been. You're fixed in your course. You can't change the past. You might idly wish that you could have done something differently, but you know you can't, and you move on."

"Stormseeker..." Hermione murmurs.

I shake my head. "I dwell on it," I say. "I can never shake the could have beens. Every mistake, everything wrong that happens, everything I could have done differently, it weighs on me. It scars my very soul."

"You can't blame yourself for everything that goes wrong," Neville says.

"Can't I?" I demand.

"You can't control everything," Neville says.

"Perhaps not," I say. "But I can control myself. I can make my own choices and choose my own path. And it was my own choices that led me to this point. I just... I don't know how I can live with them, sometimes..."

I wish Draco were here. I wish he were still my friend. I could really use him about now. He'd verbally kick my ass until I stopped brooding about it all. Imagining what he'd tell me, I have to chuckle softly. I think my friends must imagine that I've finally gone mad.

I turn around and look at the three of them, the best friends anyone could hope for. "But I will live for you," I say softly. "I'd say I'd die for you, but that's meaningless to me. Living is much more difficult."

"You don't have to do that, Stormseeker..." Hermione says.

"I did it all for you," I say. "All three of you. And Luna, and Rispy, and Dean, and all of our friends."

I feel better now. The moment of despair has passed. So long as I do everything purely for the sake of those I care about, I cannot go wrong. I can live with myself, for that, no matter where that path may take me. Mere survival is not the highest cause a man can strive for.