Stormseeker: Unwanted Destiny

I'm sorely tempted to get drunk, but I can't afford to dull my reflexes right now. Not when I expect to get attacked at any moment.

"You seem tense," Tom says, coming up to me. "Or do you frequently enjoy sitting in a library with an open book in front of you that you aren't even looking at?"

"Just worried," I say. "About the Order."

"Relax," Tom says. "I put up new defenses around the house, with the Fidelius Charm gone. They won't get in here quite so easily now."

I do relax at that. "Ah, thank you." I smile at him. "You know, I'd been really hoping that I could get through all seven years of Hogwarts. Now I just have to wonder if I'll even be able to take my OWLs."

"Don't worry about it," Tom says. "I'll make sure you can manage, one way or another. And failing all else, I will teach you myself."

"I'm glad to hear that," I say. "I don't know how long we're going to be able to keep a lid on these secrets."

"It'll be alright," Tom says.

I chuckle softly. "Say. Peter Pettigrew is still alive somewhere, isn't he?"

"He is," Tom says. "What of him?"

"Would you terribly miss him if something happened to him?" I say, smirking.

"Not particularly, although I'm not eager to throw away a pawn without good reason," Tom says. "What do you have in mind?"

"If we play this right, we might be able to get Sirius on our side," I say. "Maybe even Remus too..."

"I'm listening," Tom says, leaning close.

Arrangements are made, and on Easter, Peter is tied up and unconscious in the main hall. Sirius and Remus come down together, Remus still looking a bit haggard after the full moon a few days ago.

"What-- Is that... Peter?" Sirius says, gaping.

"Happy Easter, guys," I say. "I know it's traditional give presents at Christmas and not Easter, but this seemed too good an opportunity to pass up."

Remus frowns, and turns to Tom and says, "Surrendering the traitor won't make me forget who you are, Voldemort."

"My name is Tom Riddle," Tom says. "I'm not the one who murdered your friends."

"We know the truth, Voldemort," Remus says. "But you still deny it?"

"You know a part of what you think is the truth," Tom says. "The actual truth is a bit more complicated than you realize."

"Hear him out, please," I say, looking pleadingly to Remus and Sirius.

"Yes, it's true that Tom Riddle went on to become Voldemort," Tom says. "However, I am not that person. I am Tom Riddle as he was when he was sixteen. I was preserved in that state for fifty years before I was able to return. It's terrible to see what this other me has degenerated to. Nothing but a monster."

"Do you really expect us to believe this?" Remus says.

"It's the truth," I say. "I know, because I found out about the magical diary in another life, and used it to restore him here."

"You were responsible for bringing this creature back?" Sirius says.

"Why didn't you say something?" Remus says. "I thought you were going to destroy that diary."

"Would you have listened if I'd said I was intending on resurrecting the Dark Lord in order to fight himself?" I say.

Sirius blinks for a moment. "Maybe. Ugh, this is giving me a headache."

"I knew it would be a dangerous proposition, and I didn't want you guys involved in it," I say. "I wasn't certain just how things would work out. Although, really, it's not like I've told you guys even the half of what I'm doing... when I even have a plan in advance anyway."

"Cassie certainly wasn't planned," Remus says with a smirk.

"Yeah," I say. "You can't work time travel by knowing everything in advance. You change one small thing, and everything you know about is invalidated. The future isn't fixed. My knowledge of the future is pretty much useless. Nothing is the same. All I have is knowledge, and the rest I've got to play by ear."

"That other me did some horrible things," Tom says. "I'm looking to rectify that, and set things right again. I can't bring back the dead. But I can give some consolation to those still living."

"And what assurance do we have that you're not going to just turn into a monster like Voldemort again?" Remus says. "You clearly already have the potential for that."

"I won't," Tom says. "I know where I went wrong, and I won't go down that path again. Voldemort twisted himself in a number of dark rituals, sacrificing everything for the sake of power and immortality. He was a fool."

"I don't know what to think of this," Remus says.

"Well, I believe him," Sirius says. "Especially if he's going to let us give that traitorous rat what's coming to him."

"You don't think Voldemort would sacrifice one of his minions for the sake of gaining an advantage?" Remus says to him.

"I hardly even know what's what anymore," Sirius says. "But I do know that this bloke is expressing regret over what happened to James and Lily, and he's got that rat Peter tied up. And that my godson seems quite happy to support him."

"The Order of the Phoenix--" Remus begins.

"I don't care what the Order of the Phoenix thinks," Sirius says.

"That's why you didn't tell them about your suspicions?" Remus says. "You left me to have to do it?"

"You told them?" I say.

"Remus!" Sirius snaps. "I told you that I wanted to talk to Harry first before doing anything."

"And then you avoided him for months?" Remus says.

I sigh and put my face in my palm. "What did you tell them, Remus?"

"Just what Sirius told me," Remus says.

"Just... argh, never mind," I say. "Look. What's done is done. While I wish that you'd gone to me first, if you had cause to suspect me for any reason, I can understand why you didn't. I'm not going to blame you for that. Now we just need to deal with the situation on hand."

Remus looks away. "I'm sorry, Harry. Perhaps I should have trusted you more."

"Trust is a rare and precious commodity," I say. "You know why I sent everyone else out of this house? Because I wanted to be sure that I trusted everyone in my house. And just because I didn't always tell you everything outright didn't mean that I didn't trust you. I'd have trusted you with my life, with my freedom!"

Remus winces. "Alright, look. I'll see what kind of damage control I can do. I'll explain things to the Order as you've told me."

"Just please, no more secrets between us, alright?" Sirius says.

"That's why we're here," Tom says. "I was hoping that we could be allies."

"I'm not going to be a Death Eater," Sirius says.

"I don't want Death Eaters," Tom says. "Those of Voldemort's regime who can adapt to the new direction I'm taking them in will remain. Those who cannot will be removed, one way or another." He nods to Peter's unconscious form.

"You'd send your own followers to Azkaban?" Remus says.

"No," I say. "Nobody else is going to Azkaban, if I can help it. Better they just be killed. I wouldn't condemn even my worst enemy to that horrible place."

"You've got a point," Sirius says, grimacing. "Alright, I'll do it. There's no way in hell I'm going to fight against my godson, no matter what side he's chosen."

Remus gives a small, reluctant nod. "I still have my reservations, but, you've convinced me."

Tom smiles at them. "I'm glad that you're willing to see reason, for Harry's sake. What do you wish to do with Peter?"

"Rennervate," Sirius casts, pointing his wand at Peter.

"Ugh, where am I?" Peter murmurs, peering about. "Sirius? Remus?"

"Hello, Peter," Remus says, without the least trace of friendliness in his voice.

"So, are you really who you appear to be?" Sirius says. "Tell me, Peter, why did you do it? Why did you betray our friends?"

"You don't understand!" Peter shrieks. "He would have killed me!" He looks over to Tom hopefully. "Master! Please, you wouldn't let them hurt me, would you?"

"I'm not your master, and I have no need for betrayers," Tom says. "Why should I think that you would not betray me in turn if someone were to threaten you?" He snorts softly. "And no, don't even bother trying to escape. Those ropes have been charmed to prevent your Animagus transformation."

"Remus, Harry," Sirius says. "Shall we kill him together?"

I think on that for a moment, and then grin wickedly. Who am I to pass up a chance to kill someone without consequence? No one will care if Peter Pettigrew dies. "Yes. Let's."

"No, please!" Peter begs. "Don't kill me! I'll do anything!"

"Silencio," I cast, not even bothering to bring out the Elder Wand for it. "You'll shut up, for starters."

"You're weak," Sirius says. "You're a coward. If I'd been in your position, I would have died rather than betray my friends! As should you!"

I send lightning at Peter from my fingertips. Sirius and Remus don't hesitate to join in with curses of their own. Within moments, Peter Pettigrew is dead.

"Dobby!" I call, and the house-elf pops into view in front of me. "Could you dispose of this trash?" I gesture to Peter's body.

"Of course, Master Harry!" Dobby says cheerfully. "Right away!"

Sirius says quietly to me, "You enjoyed that more than you probably should."

"So did you," I reply.

"I won't argue that," Sirius says, smirking.

Cassie pokes her head in the main hall, and says, "You all done in here?"

"I believe so, yes," Tom says.

"I can take the charms off the kitchen now, then," Cassie says. "I hope you guys like eggs. Hermione and I have decorated a lot of them." A grin spreads across her face. "How about an Easter egg hunt? I've never had one before!"

Tom laughs. "Ah, why not?"

While we're eating, Dobby sets up an Easter egg hunt. Cassie even goes to bring Draco over for it. Sirius seems perfectly willing to switch quickly from angst and vengeance to having fun. As the others head off to look for eggs, I turn to Tom, who I have been left alone with for a moment.

I hiss in Parseltongue, "It would have been much simpler if I had let you burn down my house."

"It would," Tom hisses back. "But perhaps it's better this way."

"It won't be if the Order of the Phoenix starts causing problems for us," I reply.

"We can handle it," Tom says. "Let's go find those eggs."

The remainder of the year passes uneventfully enough, aside from accidentally killing myself during the Theatre Club's adaptation of Dracula. I read the book this thing was supposed to be based on, and tried to tell them that at no point was Dracula ever on fire, but they insisted on having him go out flaming anyway.

Whatever Remus might have said to the Order of the Phoenix, Moody continues to keep an eye on me. Well, so long as he doesn't do anything, I don't really care. I'm not going to spend my days constantly wondering if this is the moment I'm going to be killed randomly. Paranoia has to have limits.

"You are way too excited about OWLs," Draco says.

"Why shouldn't I be?" I say.

"You are such a Ravenclaw sometimes," Draco says.

"I am a Ravenclaw," I point out. "So are you, remember?"

Draco snorts softly. "So how do you think you're going to do?"

"Well enough, I suppose," I say. "I'm not so sure about Potions and Herbology. Scraping by in History of Magic and Muggle Studies."

"I have to admit, it's nice to see you struggling at Charms instead of just waltzing in and trying to cast them all wandlessly," Draco says.

"Yeah, yeah," I say. "So I have to work at it. Charms are important, but they just don't come naturally to me, for the most part."

"Of course," Draco says. "You're a dark wizard, same as me."

"You do better in Charms than I do," I say.

"I do not," Draco says.

"You know how much I've practiced in advance to manage it?" I say.

"So have I," Draco says.

"And any advantage I might have is only because of the wand I'm using," I say.

"You've been studying as much as the Heir of Atlantis," Draco says.

"When Cassie doesn't drag me off for a break, anyway," I say.

"Snogging," Draco says. "When she doesn't drag you off for snogging."

"That too," I say.

Before OWLs begin, Flitwick calls me into his office, as he's doing with all the other fifth year Ravenclaws.

"We're here to discuss what sort of career you plan to go into after leaving Hogwarts, Mr. Potter," Flitwick says. "Have you given this any thought?"

"Frankly, I'd just like to survive completing NEWTs," I say dryly.

"Yes, I would assume that 'not dying' would be a given," Flitwick says. "But the field you go into will determine what classes you will need to take during your sixth and seventh years, and what grades will be required to move on."

"Alright, alright," I say. "Assuming that I actually make it through the next two years, I'm looking to go into magical research, possibly get involved in politics." I smirk, and say wryly, "Maybe become the next Dark Lord and take over the world." I giggle.

"You shouldn't joke about that," Flitwick says.

"I know," I say. "After all, if I weren't thinking of doing that, people might get suspicious of me, and if I were, declaring my intentions would be foolhardy."

"You really don't strike me as Dark Lord material, Mr. Potter," Flitwick says. "Anyway. The fields you mention don't have any particular requirements for entry, but I would recommend continuing with Politics, as well as Charms, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes, or whichever ones you wished to research in particular, if you intended a more narrow field of study."

"I'm not going to neglect Battle Magic and Potions, either," I say.

"If you do wind up going into politics, it would be nice to have another Ravenclaw in the Ministry," Flitwick comments. "Many Slytherins wind up going into politics, but I haven't seen too many of my own house with any serious aspirations toward it."

When OWLs arrive, I put everything else out of my mind but doing as well as I can after some last minute cramming sessions in the library with Cassie, Draco, and Hermione.

The results come in. I did better than I'd expected, considering how nervous I've been about it and how much work I've been putting into it. I got O's in Battle Magic and Politics, E's in Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes, and A's in History of Magic, Muggle Studies, and Herbology.

"You passed everything!" Draco says upon seeing my scores. "That's great!"

"I didn't do as well as I'd hoped," I say. "I'm going to have to work at that."

Cassie snorts softly. "There's no shame in the scores you got."

"That's easy for you to say," I say, poking at her own score sheet. "I'm seeing a lot of circles on that parchment."

"You still beat me in Politics!" Cassie says.

"And Politics is the only thing I'll be beating Hermione at, too, if only because she didn't take it," I say wryly.

The start of another summer at Caer Danas. Home. When did I start thinking of this place as home, and not Wishingsdale? But then, Wishingsdale stopped being a home to me long ago. A home lost, taken from me by a sudden attack I could do nothing about. And I'll have to move on from this one eventually, too. But for now... it's home.

The day after the Hogwarts Express takes the students away from school for the summer, Grindelwald arrives on my front doorstep.

"Do go see to Grindelwald, before the wards incinerate him," Tom says to me casually, not even bothering to look up from his copy of The Quibbler.

I head outside to greet him. The wards appear to have immobilized him in between two beds of flowers. "One moment," I say. "I'll get you keyed in so that the wards aren't overreacting to your presence." He starts to move again. "There you go."

"Nice defenses," Grindelwald says dryly. "You didn't warn me about them when you told me to come here."

"They weren't up yet then," I say. "Come on inside."

Sirius and Remus are probably still asleep, and Cassie and Hermione are in the library studying last I checked, so hopefully nobody will notice Grindelwald is here inadvertently. I don't think I care to explain this one to Sirius and Remus.

"I didn't realize you lived with Headmaster Riddle," Grindelwald says.

"He doesn't," Tom replies absently, still reading The Quibbler. Upside down, even. "I live with him."

"So, are you actually Voldemort, or a new Dark Lord?" Grindelwald wonders.

"It's complicated," Tom says.

Grindelwald snorts. "What isn't?"

"Where did you get the idea that I'm Voldemort?" Tom asks, finally looking up at him.

"Moody said some things to that effect while he thought I wasn't listening," Grindelwald says.

"He doesn't understand the half of what he says," Tom says. "Suffice it to say that I am not Voldemort. Hopefully, that one can be put to rest this summer."

"Are you Harry Potter's master?" Grindelwald says.

"I am," Tom says. "He is quite the promising apprentice."

"You didn't mention that, either," Grindelwald says aside to me. "So, who will I be swearing my loyalty to?"

"An oath to Harry is an oath to me," Tom says. "I will leave you to him. I am confident in his ability."

"I don't know that I should be insulted to be left to a mere apprentice, but I really don't care anymore at the moment," Grindelwald says.

"Come this way," I say, leading him off toward a small room that has been converted into a ritual chamber.

"So, what will you ask of me?" Grindelwald says.

"Like I told you before," I say. "Your absolute loyalty. No less, no more. And if you try anything or set one toe out of line, you will never, ever get this chance again. Even if you think you've won, I will go back in time and kill you instead."

"Time-Turners don't work that way," Grindelwald says.

"I'm a Time Mage," I say. "I don't need Time-Turners. It's an inherent ability to me. You may wonder why I'm being so harsh to you, when you don't remember doing anything to me to warrant it? You've actually tried to kill me before. I won't tolerate it anymore, however."

"I... what?" Grindelwald says.

"You've tried to get the Elder Wand back from me," I say.

"And I suppose you wouldn't just let me walk away after all this, either," Grindelwald says. "I know too much, right? And Memory Charms can be broken."

"Walk away to what?" I say. "You have nothing to go back to. I don't care what you do, so long as you don't seek to betray me or oppose me. But what is there really for you there? You still have choices. But your alternatives don't appear very good to me."

"I know," Grindelwald says with a sigh. "That would be why I came. I realized that I have nothing left to lose. So I'll take the risk, risk everything, for any chance I can grab at."

I give a nod. "Then I will have your oath, before we do anything else. Swear your loyalty to the Stormseeker."

"Stormseeker?" Grindelwald says, raising an eyebrow. "What kind of a title is that?"

"One that was given to me by people with a love of pretentious titles," I reply.

"Fine," Grindelwald says. He kneels before me, and says, "I, Gellert Grindelwald, do hereby swear an oath of loyalty upon my life and my magic to you, Stormseeker. I swear to serve, protect, and obey you in any way that is within my power."

"I, the Stormseeker, do hereby accept your oath, Gellert Grindelwald." A light erupts from the tip of my wand for a moment, and Grindelwald is surrounded by a faint glow.

Grindelwald stands, and mutters, "I really can't believe I just did that. Swearing loyalty to a kid..."

"I'm a time traveler," I say. "I'm not actually sixteen years old. Technically, I'm almost twenty-eight."

"Still a kid," Grindelwald says.

"You've been in prison for fifty years," I say.

"I was already sixty-three at that point!" Grindelwald says.

"You're over a hundred?" I say. "Well. No need to worry about that any longer." I pull out a potion from my bag of holding, one of those Snape's been working on. It should be a better mix than the earlier ones, but even those were sufficient to keep me above the threshold for magical exhaustion.

"What's that?" Grindelwald asks.

"Energy potion," I say. "If I can't manage to drink it afterward, pour it down my throat, alright?" Grindelwald gives a nod. "You ready for this?"

"Go ahead," Grindelwald says.

I take his hand and indicate that he should sit, and take a seat on the floor next to him. I focus upon my Time Magic. I've only done this once before, and didn't really know what I was doing that time, but I remember what I did. I think of the innocence of youth, of the calm before the storm, life before everything changed. I force my magic into him, energy flooding out of me like a tap.

It takes everything out of me. As I dizzily see a young face before me through hazy eyes, I try to bring the potion to my lips. I can't quite make it, but a firm hand reaches up and steadies mine, getting the fizzing liquid into me. I drink it down, and some of the overpowering weariness leaves me.

"Merlin, that takes a lot out of me," I mutter, rubbing my head and putting the potion aside.

"You alright, kid?" says a voice much too young to be calling me a kid.

I snicker in amusement. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. It's just magical exhaustion. I've dealt with worse. A Muggle brat with a peashooter could kick my ass at the moment."

"You're damned lucky I swore that oath to you."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," I say. "Why do you think I made you swear it before doing anything?"

"You're smarter than I'd given you credit for," says the boy. He holds up his hands and looks at them. "You did it, you really did... I might not have chosen to be quite this young again, but I'm hardly one to complain."

"Better this way," I say. "You can go through school again, and establish a new identity that way. You'll need a new name, too. I don't think you can get away with pretending to be a close relative, like Cassie did."

"Miss Black? What about her?"

"As silly as this might sound, Cassiopeia Black is actually Cassiopeia Black," I say wryly. "I aged her down as well, before we started school. She was Sirius Black's great-aunt, and is now pretending to be his daughter."

The boy's eyes open wide. "She does a good act. I wouldn't have suspected her of being anything but an intelligent girl."

"She's better at it than I am," I say, smirking. "That's why I took up Theatre Club. Anyway, do you have a name in mind?"

"I thought about it a bit after I talked to you. How about Gerard Boltwood?"

I give a nod. "A little obvious, but it should pass. Family?"

"It would be easiest to claim to be a Muggleborn orphan," Gerard says.

"You'd be willing to claim to be Muggleborn?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

Gerard shrugs. "I don't see why not."

"Not to discourage that thought or anything, but do you even know enough about the modern Muggle world to pass for one?" I ask.

"Enough," Gerard says. "Oh, believe me, ever since I got released, I've been doing research. What Muggles have been doing these days frankly scares me. If only Albus hadn't betrayed me, this all could have been prevented."

"We've been doing what we can to prepare for the inevitable," I say. "But it'll be good to have you on our side. And Grindelwald can be reported to have died of old age."

"Maybe this time I won't get expelled in sixth year..." Gerard says.

I chuckle softly. "I'm just hoping to survive my sixth year, personally. Why don't we go get some lunch and introduce you to the other residents of the house?"

Gerard follows me out to the dining area, where the others have already gathered over soup and sandwiches.

"Hey, everyone," I say. "I'd like to introduce you to our latest house guest, Gerard Boltwood. He's a Muggleborn orphan and will be starting at Hogwarts this year."

"Hi," Gerard says, putting on a shy act.

"Hello, Grindelwald," Sirius says absently.

I stare at him for a moment. "Can we make that the last time that name gets spoken around here?"

"How did you figure it out?" Gerard asks.

"Naming Charm," Sirius says.

"That's Professor Grindelwald?" Hermione asks.

"I'm not your teacher anymore," Gerard says. "Grindelwald is officially dead. I'm Gerard Boltwood now."

"Harry, are you sure about what you're doing here?" Remus asks.

"I can assure you that he will be loyal to me," I say. "I made him swear an oath to me before I aged him down."

"Ooh, look at the cute ickle firstie!" Cassie practically coos. "And you're a Muggleborn? I can't wait to show you around Diagon Alley. You're going to love Hogwarts!"

I chuckle softly. "Ah, Cassie, always leaping into the act feet first." I pause thoughtfully for a moment. "Oh, word of advice. Ollivander will be able to figure out that you're not just an ordinary first year. But he also probably won't care, either."

"You know, I never thought I'd be casually eating lunch with one Dark Lord, never mind multiples," Sirius comments.