Stormseeker: Borrowed Destiny

Chapter 53: Beginning Third Year

---

I kind of want to have a talk with Remus before classes start, but I find myself dragged to the hospital wing for a quick checkup straight off the train. This makes me miss the Sorting Ceremony, but at least I make it back in time for the Opening Feast.

Glancing around for my friends, I see Neville, Hermione, and Luna sitting at the Slytherin table again with Draco, Theodore, and the rest. Chuckling softly to myself, I head over to join them.

"There you are, Stormseeker," Draco says. "Didn't think you'd willingly miss out on dessert."

"So, you lot are back at this table, are you?" Gemma says. "Make up over the summer, I take it? I hope there's not going to be anymore trouble. It doesn't look good if Slytherin doesn't present a united front."

"Definitely not," Draco says. "And it was all that Mudblood bastard Lockhart's fault, anyway."

"Nothing will break up Storm Army!" I declare. "Not him or anyone else."

"Glad to hear it," Gemma says. "You've done a remarkable thing, Stormseeker. You've brought people from all the houses together under a single banner. You'll go far in life, I'm sure of it. I'm almost sad that this will be my last year. I'd really like to see where you go."

"Oh, you don't have to leave, Gemma!" Flint says from across the table.

"Flint?" I say, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you were a seventh year last year."

"I was," Flint replies. "And I'm a seventh year again this year!"

"How's that working out for you?" I ask.

"Pretty good," Flint says. "I get to captain the Quidditch team for another year."

"If you paid more attention to your classes and less to Quidditch, you wouldn't have done so abysmally on your NEWTs," Gemma says.

"Ah, but how could I resist spending another year with your charming self?" Flint says, batting his eyelashes.

"Stow it, Flint," Gemma says, rolling her eyes. "And you still can't grow a proper beard."

"Can so," Flint says. "Hey, Stormseeker! Hit me with that jinx again!"

I smirk, and point my wand at him. "Pogontrophus."

Flint strokes his new, scraggly beard. "Do I look dignified yet?"

"You look like an escaped convict," Gemma tells him.

Right after the feast, Professor McGonagall takes me to visit the Headmaster, preventing me from having another chance to talk to Remus before bed tonight.

"How are you feeling, Lexen?" Dumbledore asks once we're alone.

"Fine now, sir," I say. "Although I hope those Dementors don't stay long."

"Yes, I heard you collapsed on the train," Dumbledore says. "Needless to say, this had me concerned."

"I'd be surprised if I'm the last one," I say. "Putting these things near children!"

"I agree completely, Lexen," Dumbledore says. "But it's the Ministry's orders, and I'm afraid I can't do anything about it."

I shake my head. "No matter. I'll live. So long as I'm here, can we talk about Professor Lupin for a moment?"

Dumbledore raises an eyebrow. "Is there something you know about him from the future that should concern me?"

"No, no," I say. "He'll be an excellent teacher. I was just wondering how you intend to explain why he'll be unavailable every full moon. I don't know that some parents wouldn't be distressed to learn their children are being taught by a werewolf."

"Ah, you know about that, do you," Dumbledore says. "Severus will be brewing him up wolfsbane potion to keep his condition under control, so he won't be a danger to students, and will be covering for him during his monthly absences."

I wonder how Snape will find time to teach additional classes on top of his own, but that's not really my concern. "Someone will inevitably figure it out, you know," I say. "The students aren't stupid. In my last life, I figured it out in an instant, and I didn't even know werewolves existed in this world!"

"I was considering having Severus teach some of his classes under Polyjuice Potion to divert suspicion," Dumbledore says.

I snort in amusement. "No offense to Snape or anything, but I don't think that would fly, either," I say.

"Lexen, trust me, I have the situation figured out already," Dumbledore says. "There's no need to concern yourself with it."

"Fine, fine, I'll take your word on that," I say. In the back of my mind, I'm planning to take my own measures.

---

Arithmancy turns out to be a fascinating class, if a bit more technical than I can wrap my mind around sometimes. I'm thankful that we're starting out with simple things, like analyzing the basic meanings of numbers. Professor Vector, however, gave a lengthy introductory speech about how Arithmancy is used in spell creation, which makes me really excited. Imagine, making my very own spells that do precisely what I want them to! It would be a lot of work, but given the time, which I have no end of, I could do absolutely anything, I think.

"I kind of wish I hadn't signed up for Divination," Ron is telling Seamus in the common room after dinner. "Professor Trelawny keeps predicting the death of the Stormseeker, and he's not even in the class!"

"Really, Ron?" I say. "So how am I going to die this week?"

"First you'll fall down a staircase and break your neck," Ron replies. "Then you'll be mauled to death by a hippogriff. And then you'll fall off a broomstick. You know, as amusing as it is to hear about your potential death, it'll just be disappointing if none of them actually happen. And why is it always about you, anyway?"

"Would you prefer she be predicting your death?" I ask.

"You have a point," Ron admits reluctantly.

"Divination is nonsense anyway, and you know it," I say.

"Yeah, but it'll be an easy O," Ron says, shrugging.

"The future isn't set in stone," I say. "I'll give her credit that she may be able to predict what might happen, but it doesn't take any special power to do that, just a little common sense and forethought. But nobody can predict what will happen."

"Well, I certainly wasn't going to take Arithmancy or Ancient Runes!" Ron says. "Those looked awfully hard and like a lot of work. You and Hermione are nutters for wanting to take both of them. But then I already knew you were barmy to begin with, Stormseeker."

---

"Welcome to Care of Magical Creatures, children," Hagrid says. "If you don't know me already, my name is Hagrid, and I'll be your teacher. Just Hagrid, none of that professor stuff. And this here is Rispy. He'll be assisting me with my classes."

"A house-elf?" says Ron dubiously. "Why is he wearing clothes like that?"

"I am not a house-elf," Rispy snaps, glaring at him.

"Ah, and that'll make a good first lesson," Hagrid says. "Many magical creatures are quite smart, and can be offended easily, so you have to be careful what you say to them."

"I'll let that slide, since this is our first lesson," Rispy says. "But I'll have you know that I am an unbound, free-born elf."

"Yeah, be glad he didn't stab you in the eye for that," I tell Ron, chuckling.

"Could he do that?" Ron says. "I thought house-elves couldn't attack wizards..."

"Weren't you paying attention to the 'he's not a house-elf' bit, Weasel?" Draco sneers.

"You must always give to all beings the respect that they deserve," Rispy says. "I am here to help to teach this class in order to perhaps clear up some of the misconceptions that wizards have about other beings."

Hagrid leads us out on the Hogwarts grounds to see a group of magnificent winged horse-like creatures with bird-like heads.

"These are hippogriffs," Hagrid says. "Aren't they beautiful?"

I frown a little at seeing them. They're gorgeous, to be sure, but I can't help but remember Ron's comment about Trelawny foretelling my death. No, it's not certain that I will die here today. It's just possible that I could die here.

"Now, here, Ron, approach this one, carefully now," Hagrid is saying. "His name is Buckbeak. Let him get a good look at you, become comfortable with you. Let him make the first move."

Ron stands before the hippogriff impatiently, and mutters, "Oh, come on, you stupid beast."

The hippogriff rears up in anger. I move reflexively, darting ahead. I grab Ron and push him out of the way. Buckbeak strikes me instead, hard. Ripping and tearing at my skin, shattering bone. Pain. Blood. I collapse to the ground.

"Stormseeker!" Hermione is screaming.

Ron gapes down at me, as if disbelieving that I would save him, and says, "Oh, Merlin..."

I try to chuckle softly, but it only comes out as a gurgle. "Looks like... Trelawny was right... after all..."

I can distantly hear them trying to get help, but I'm losing too much blood too fast. I slip away in moments.

---

I wake in the Gryffindor dormitory and rub my eyes. A little wearily, I look across to Ron, still dozing lightly. Ron, who will never realize that I died in order to help him.

It's strange, when I'm thinking and reasoning, I know that Ron is not my friend in this life. And yet when there's danger, when there's only instinct, it seems I would still protect him anyway just as much as Hermione or Draco or Neville.

I can't feel too bad about that sort of end. It's not like I was intentionally abandoning my friends, and I actually managed to help someone in the process. Well enough. Now I just need to find a way to avert it in a manner that I can live with.

So, I go through my morning routine, eat breakfast, and head out to my Care of Magical Creatures class once again. I listen to Hagrid introduce himself and Rispy, and hear Rispy's warning again about treating beings with respect. You know, hearing it so clearly again, I just have to think... Ron is an idiot sometimes. He means well, but he doesn't really think things through very well at times.

"Ron," I say, stepping in behind him as Hagrid leads us off toward the hippogriffs. "You should listen to him."

"I listened to him!" Ron snaps.

"I'm serious, Ron," I say. "There's plenty of creatures out there that may not look like people, but are just as smart as people. And some of them are quite quick to take offense. So be careful, and be polite."

"I don't need your help!" Ron says. "Gah, leave me alone."

"Alright, let me put this another way," I say. "Hagrid is your friend, right?"

"Yeah," Ron says. "He invites me to tea sometimes, and gives me rock cakes that could break your teeth. But why does that matter to you?"

"You wouldn't want to see any trouble happen in Hagrid's class, would you?" I say. "It would probably be back for him if a student were to be injured, or worse, killed."

Ron sighs. "Fine, fine, you have a point. But I still don't like you."

Hagrid introduces the hippogriffs, and urges Ron to approach Buckbeak, tries to instruct him in letting the hippogriff make the first move, but Ron is still pretty impatient. I've positioned myself off to the side, just in case.

Ron says, "Come on already, you big stupid beast!"

"Flipendo!" I cast. Ron is knocked back out of the way before Buckbeak's talons come down upon the spot where he was just a moment before.

"You really are daft, aren't you, Weasel," Draco says.

"Ron!" Hagrid says. "Are you alright?"

Ron climbs to his feet again slowly and looks back wide-eyed at Buckbeak -- and me. "Yeah," he says numbly. "Yeah..."

"I tried to tell you, Ron," Hagrid says. "Hippogriffs are proud critters. You can't go insulting them like that, or they'll get offended and might hurt you."

"I..." Ron says, turning to the hippogriff. "I'm sorry, Buckbeak. I didn't mean it."

Buckbeak snorts softly and turns away, but at least he doesn't make any further aggressive moves.

"Now, does anyone else want to try?" Hagrid says. "Just be more careful, please. Harry might not be so quick with his wand next time."

"I'll have a go at it," Draco says. "Somebody's got to show the Weasel how it's done."

"Alright," Hagrid says. "Just step up toward him, bow to him, and please for love of Merlin be polite..."

Draco goes up and bows gracefully toward Buckbeak. "Hello, Buckbeak. I'm Draco Malfoy. I don't blame you for taking issue with that moron. That seems to say to me that you must be awfully smart."

"I am not a moron!" Ron mutters.

"No, you're not, and that's the problem," I say. "You're smart enough to know better, and you do stupid things sometimes anyway. You just don't really think through things sometimes. Well, sometimes I don't either."

"Argh, leave me alone, Stormseeker," Ron snaps. "I swear, you're worse than Hermione sometimes. At least she just tries to show she's better than you by reciting from books."

I sigh softly. "I'm sorry, Ron." I shake my head. It would be a futile effort to try to be his friend again. I accepted that a long time ago. It's just that it seems like my subconscious mind isn't entirely convinced of that yet.

By this point, Draco is getting on well with Buckbeak, patting him gently and stroking his feathers. "You're a pretty one, aren't you," Draco says.

"I reckon he likes you, Draco," Hagrid says. "I think he wants to let you ride him."

"Better you than me, Draco," I say. "I hate to fly."

With Hagrid's help, Draco climbs up on top of Buckbeak and settles himself between the wings. Then, the hippogriff takes off, up and into the air. Several minutes later, they return and land while Lavender is trying to make nice to another hippogriff.

Draco slides off from Buckbeak's back. "That was awesome," he says, grinning from ear to ear. "Nothing like flying on a broom at all."

"All the same, I still think I'd much rather keep my feet firmly planted on the ground," I say.

---

I'm excited about our first lesson with Remus. Or Professor Lupin now, I suppose I should say. We're to have a practical lesson for the first day, and I'm practically bouncing imagining what he has in mind.

"A boggart has moved into the staff room, and I asked the Headmaster to save it for my third years," Lupin is telling us. "Now, who can tell us what a boggart is?"

Hermione raises her hand. "It's a creature that takes the shape of what we most fear."

"Exactly, Hermione," Lupin says. "The spell to ward off a boggart is Riddikulus. Now, Neville? Could you tell me what your greatest fear is?"

"The Stormseeker as a Dark Lord," Neville replies immediately.

"I see," Lupin says, quirking an eyebrow and casting a glance at me. "And Neville, you live with your grandmother, don't you? Could you describe to me what sort of things she wears?"

"Well, she's got this hideous hat with a stuffed vulture on top of it," Neville says. "And green dresses, maybe a fox-fur scarf... and a red handbag. But I'm not scared of my grandmother, sir, no matter how ugly her clothes can get."

"That's not what I mean," Lupin says. "When you cast your spell, imagine the the Dark Lord Harry wearing your grandmother's clothes. The key to defeating a boggart is laughter, and Riddikulus will force it to assume a shape that's amusing to you."

"Alright," Neville says.

Lupin opens the wardrobe, and out pops a version of myself, taller and crackling with lightning, draped in a high-necked black cloak. The boggart Lexen cackles madly and looks around with a terrifying, murderous gaze.

"Riddikulus!" Neville says, pointing his wand at the boggart. Suddenly, sure enough, the Dark Lord Lexen is wearing a stuffed vulture had, a long, green dress, a scarf, and is wielding a red handbag instead of a wand.

"I'm never going to live this one down, am I," I comment dryly.

"I just wish Colin Creevey were here with his camera," Ron says, smirking.

Lupin starts calling us each forward in turn to practice against the boggart. Parvati faces a mummy, Seamus has a banshee, Ron has a giant spider... Lupin turns to look at Dean beside me next, but I step forward and say, "My turn!" I'm not getting skipped over here!

As I approach, the boggart, currently a legless spider, shifts and takes on the form of Gilderoy Lockhart, grinning at me with his award-winning smile. "Obliviate!" says the boggart. It's not a real spell, there's no power behind it, but it still freaks me out and starts my heart racing in a panic.

"Flipendo! Expelliarmus!" I cast reflexively.

"Stormseeker, the spell is Riddikulus," Lupin says.

"Obliviate, Obliviate, Obliviate!" says the boggart Lockhart, grinning even as it's bounced around.

"Oh... sorry," I say, forcing myself to calm down. This is really my worst fear? I focus, and try to picture Ron's Muggle underwear. "Riddikulus!" Lockhart is suddenly wearing nothing but boxer shorts with smiley faces on them.

"Well done, Stormseeker," Lupin says. "Dean, it's your turn."

We go through the rest of the class and finish off the boggart, forcing it to take the shapes of other various scary and amusing things. As we finish up and Lupin dismisses the class, Lupin asks me to stay for a moment afterward.

"What is it, Professor?" I say. "I'm sorry I got a little carried away and forgot what we were doing for a moment."

"Quite understandable, Stormseeker," Lupin says. "Boggarts try to play off our fears. We just need to remember to keep our heads about us. I have to admit that I'm surprised at your worst fear, however. I would have expected the boggart to take the form of Lord Voldemort, and I didn't want to expose the class to that. Who was that man?"

"Gilderoy Lockhart," I explain. "Our Defense professor for the first half of last year. A man who is entirely too fond of Memory Charms."

"So I see," Lupin says. "I believe I have heard of him previously, yes. Wrote a number of books, didn't he?"

"He took credit for a lot of things other people did with a number of well-placed Memory Charms," I say. "And tried to do the same with me and my friends last year."

"I can see why you'd be afraid of that, then," Lupin says, nodding. "A much more concrete and immediate fear than a Dark Lord you've never actually met. Very well, run along now. Your friends look to be waiting for you out in the hallway."

I don't mention that I have, indeed, encountered the Dark Lord on multiple occasions already, and was killed by him a few times, too. And he does scare me, mostly because of the Imperius Curse, but I'd much rather have that used upon me than Obliviate. And why should I be afraid of dying, anyway?

"Come on, let's go get some lunch," Neville says. "I'm starved."

"Hey, Stormseeker," Draco says. "If it makes you feel any better, I think you look good in a dress!"

"Shove it, Draco," I say, snickering and punching him in the shoulder playfully.

---

"Welcome to another year of the Hogwarts Dueling Club," Professor Snape says. "As you can see, there have been some rearrangements made this year. I'm afraid that I no longer can spare the time to direct separate Dueling Clubs for each year. And so, as you see, they have been combined into three groups instead. Beginner, for the first years. Intermediate, for the second, third, and fourth years. And Advanced, for the fifth, sixth, and seventh years. However, these are merely guidelines, and depending upon the aptitudes of each student, they may be moved up or down to better suit their abilities, or lack thereof."

Dueling Club. My favorite way to spend every Saturday morning. Especially the part about getting killed by stray spells or arses pulling out illegal curses. But even considering all that, it's always fun, nonetheless. This is a place where my talents can really shine.

Snape looks around the room, and says, "And I see that Storm Army is in full force again this year. Weasley, did you ever actually decide upon a name for your own group, or do you plan to keep changing it every week again?"

"I was thinking of calling it Rainbow Army," Ron replies.

"You can't be serious," Seamus says, snorting. "I'm not going to be a part of anything with a name like Rainbow Army!"

"Okay, maybe not," Ron says.

Snape rolls his eyes, and says, "You'll be changing it every week again, then. Very well. This year, we will be doing things a little differently. We will be focusing more upon group competition. Any duels won will earn points for a student's group. We will also go into duels which are not strictly one-on-one, as well."

"Who put Weasley in charge, anyway?" say a fourth year boy whose name I don't know.

"Himself," Snape says. "The rules for groups are like so. Anyone may create a group. Anyone may join or leave a group at any time. If a student leaves a group, any points they have earned for that group will remain with that group. New groups will always start with zero points. If a group leader joins another group, any points the former group has earned will be added to the total of the latter group, and the former group will be disbanded."

"How do the points work?" Ron asks.

"I'm getting to that, Weasley," Snape says, glaring at him. "Defeating an opponent awards two points and deducts one point from the loser. Defeating a group leader awards five points and deducts three points from the leader's group."

"That's not fair," Ron says.

"Five points from Gryffindor for whinging pointlessly," Snape says absently. "Now, let us begin the group registration." He waves his wand, and two hourglasses appear, similar to those used for the house points, but smaller. One bears the name 'Storm Army' and has the thundercloud symbol above it. The other, 'Rainbow Army', with a rainbow on top of it.

"We can change the name of the group, right?" Ron asks.

"Yes," Snape says long-sufferingly.

"I think I'd rather that my group be called, um..." he casts about for a moment. "Peace Army!"

"That doesn't even make sense, Ron," I say.

"No, wait, I know..." Ron says. "Red Army!"

"Very well," Snape says. The second hourglass changes to 'Red Army'. With a generic red circle above it.

"Like chess, you know?" Ron says. The symbol changes to a red chess knight. "Yeah, like that. That's good!"

"Does anyone else wish to form a group?" Snape asks.

A fourth year Ravenclaw named Marcus Belby starts up a group named the Owl Order. Lavender Brown forms the Fluffy Bunny Legion. And Ginny Weasley creates the Fire Guardians.

"Lavender, you're leaving me?" Ron says. "And Ginny! I'm betrayed by my own baby sister!"

"I'm not a baby anymore, you prat," Ginny says. "Besides, I can beat you in a duel anyday. You can always join my group if you want."

"No way," Ron says.

"Suit yourself," Ginny says. "I don't know about you, but I aim to actually win this thing."

"Professor Snape!" Ron says. "Isn't it going to be unfair if the Stormseeker has the biggest group?"

"Do you want to lose Gryffindor more points for whining, Weasley?" Snape asks.

"Forget I said anything," Ron says quickly.

"Professor Snape!" Ginny says. "I'm a Weasley, too. Can I be 'Weasley' in here? Ron can go by 'Prat' instead."

"Ginny!" Ron says indignantly.

"We totally have this in the bag," Draco comments to me quietly.

"We'll see," I say. "Be on alert, and underestimate nobody. We won't get anywhere by being complacent and overconfident."

"Right," Draco says. "But who of those lot can really hope to stand against us?"

"Um..." I say. "Well, it looks like Ginny just turned Ron's boogers into a bat and is beating the snot out of him with it... pardon the pun."