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Chapter Text

Joseph Black

And The Bone Wand

(A Harry Potter Companion Book)

By ThatJeff

Dedication

To M:  I believe I caused you miss out on reading Book Seven.  Until you’re ready, maybe this will give you something to consider.

To S: One day you’re going to want to read them as well.

To both of you:  Just to show you that free writing doesn’t have to be a chore.

Prologue

  Everyone knows about the story of the Boy Who Lived, about his early childhood, his times at school, about his many adventures, and his final triumph over You Know  Who.  Everyone knows that story.

  However, several hundred students attended Hogwarts during those years.  Many of them went on to live quiet comfortable lives, while a few of them became famous in their own right.  However, all of them have their own story to tell, just as interesting and just as important.  This is one of them.

Chapter One

The Lost Letter

 Thirteen years ago, across a wide ocean, a boy was born in the States.  Nothing special really, many boys were born that year, each of them special in their own way.  Even when dark events were unfolding in England a year later, Joseph spent his night going door to door begging for candy on his very first Halloween.  Indeed, nothing troubling from England ever reached the States, but trouble comes in many forms.

  For Joe, it was something simple.  His father lost his job during a recession.  For months, his father floundered, trying to find something, anything, to keep his family afloat, but nothing was to be had.  In a pique of desperation and despair, he turned to the bottle.  Soon, he began spending almost all of his time at the bars rather than at home.

   Joe's mom did her best to keep the family together, working days and nights to keep them afloat.  It might have worked in the beginning, but Joe's dad was a proud man, and it galled him to think that he had to depend on his wife which made him drink even more.  Then the hitting began.

  For years Joe and his mom suffered in silence until one night something changed. It was a typical event, where his father had come home drunk and began yelling and hitting everything and everyone in his way.  But after his dad had stumbled off to bed, Joe's mom quietly began collecting clothing, frantically stuffing them into a small travel bag.  Joe didn't argue when she told him to do the same--you never talked back in this household. 

  What was going on, he wondered.  However Joe had learned years ago you never asked questions.  Asking questions either got you yelled at—or worse.  No, the best thing to do was what he always did; keep quiet, but listen to everything.  Eventually, you learned everything you wanted to know.

   Soon Joe was following his mother down the dusty street, his schoolbag overstuffed with every thing he owned.  It wasn't much.  One block down the street, a small, beat-up car sat idling.  He had seen it before, Miss Maggie's if he was correct.  Miss Maggie was a waitress that worked with his mom.  His guess was mom had called her while he was packing.  When they reached the corner where the car sat, he saw that he was correct.  They quietly piled into the back seat, Miss Maggie whispering something he couldn't hear to his mom.

  "The bus station is fine," his mom replied.  Bus station?  Something odd definitely was going on, that was obvious.  Being only eleven, Joe couldn't quite grasp exactly what his mom intended but it did sound a lot like running away.

  Running away.  From dad.  They could do that?  Why hadn't they done it sooner?  Where would they go?  Mom didn't know anyone that dad didn't as well.  Perhaps that was the idea—get away from everyone and everything so as to be harder to find.  Riding a bus to a different city would definitely do that.  It actually sounded exciting!

  The car lurched to a halt, breaking Joe out of his reverie.  There was a dirty building in front of them, a backlit sign that showed a racing dog sprinting across a background of red and blue.  The sign was dingy like the building, and one of the light bulbs was out so that only half of it was lit, but at that moment it was the most beautiful dog Joe had ever seen.  He was never allowed to have a dog.  For the first time, he was glad he hadn't—he probably would have been forced to leave it behind.

  They got out of the car, mom hugged Miss Maggie, Miss Maggie said some words of encouragement to him, and then they went inside.  They stood in line at a counter, bought some tickets, and boarded a bus outside.  The sign on the bus's side said Dallas.  As they settled into the cushioned seats Joe began to wonder what Dallas would be like.  He'd never been in a large city.  Would it be hot and dusty like Arlen?  He wondered just how tall the buildings would be; he seen pictures of New York and the like, but they never showed you people or cars, nothing to judge the scale of the buildings....

  Joe started awake when his mom nudged his shoulder, "Joe, we're almost there.  Wake up."  Where exactly was 'there?'  He looked out the window, but nighttime had finally settled so he couldn't really see anything except for a bunch of bright lights.  Still, that was something new.  Apparently Dallas had lights everywhere.  Overhead, the rumble of a jet airplane drowned out the noise of the bus's engine.  Must be nearby an airport, he mused. 

  They gathered their meager belongings from the driver, and walked to a nearby taxi.  That was very odd, thought Joe.  His mom never paid money for a taxi, said the money could be saved by walking instead.  Still, this night was already proving to be very different than any other.  They rode for several minutes, finally arriving at the very airport he had guessed was close.  Once there, they quickly walked inside and stood in line at the ticket counter.

  "Joe, here, hold onto this," his mom rummaged through her bag and produced a small paper booklet, "Do not lose it, understand?  If someone asks to see it, you let him look at it, but make sure you get it back, okay?"

  Joe accepted the item and flipped through its pages.  The cover said, 'passport' but that didn't mean much to him.  Inside there was a photograph of him stuck to one of the pages; he looked a couple years younger than he was now.  His brain raced back in time, remembering the day they went to a small drugstore to get his picture taken.  He had always wondered why he never saw the photos of that day; it must have been the time this book was made.  Three, maybe four years ago he mused.

  Three years ago.  His mother had been planning this day that far back.  Why hadn't she said anything to him about it?  Three years seemed like a lifetime to him, and to him it was.  How could anyone plan that far ahead?

  He continued pondering what all of this meant as his mom guided him through customs, security checks, and to the boarding gate.  At one point, he noticed a large black shadow flapping outside, but dismissed it as a bat or some such.  He still had no idea where they were going, but in one night, he had traveled by bus, by taxi, and now by airplane.  It would be an exciting time for him if he could just ignore the reason for their flight.

  What would his dad do when he discovered them gone?  Would he be able to find them?  Mom seemed to have planned this for a long time; surely she had planned for that as well.  One thing for sure, if father caught them, it would not be pleasant.  He unconsciously rubbed a spot on his left arm.  No, not pleasant at all.

  About an hour later, they began to board the large aircraft he could see outside a nearby window.  As they passed through an attendant that checked their tickets, he saw the gate's counter had a sign above the clerk's head:  United Flight 2923 London Departure 11:10pm.

 London!  They were going to a whole new country!  Surely dad couldn't follow them there.  No wonder mother had taken so long to have them run away—tickets to London must cost a fortune!  Probably more than a thousand dollars!  Joe's body finally sagged a little in relief; he hadn't noticed he was scared until just then.  He had hidden it well he thought.  That was another rule to getting along; don't show people how you feel.  Showing emotions could get you punished just as mouthing off could.  He straightened his back a little and walked steadfastly down the odd little hallway and into the plane.  If he felt he could afford a little excitement, he would have stared agog to look at the sheer size of the plane's interior.  His mom gently took his hand and led them to their seats.

  "We're almost there, honey.  You can sleep now if you want, we're safe now," She settled him in a seat in the middle of the plane, but he could see just a little outside the small window if he leaned forward a little.  A small section of wing and engine could be seen but that was all.

No wait, there was something else.  A dark shape sat on the wingtip, easily seen against the white of the wing itself.  It almost looked like a huge barn owl.  Joe blinked to clear his vision, but when he looked again, the shadow was gone.  Yet another strange thing to happen on this strange night.  He was probably just very tired.  He settled back in the seat, getting comfortable enough to sleep.

  He woke once to hear his mother tell him they were flying over the Atlantic.  He acknowledged that, but immediately went back to sleep.  He dreamed of large owls flying over a huge expanse of water, being pursued by a black dragon blowing smoke and fire from its nose.  When they arrived in London early in the morning, his mother seemed very cheerful, maybe even happy for a change.

  "Think of it Joe.  You'll be able to see your grandmum for the first time!  Won't that be nice?"  Even though she genuinely seemed happy, Joe noticed a welling of tears in her eyes that tried hard not to spill.  "You two will get along smashingly."

  Joe nodded in agreement but said nothing.  A whole new life awaited them, he thought to himself.  He didn't want to say it to himself, even to think it, but until now, he just assumed father would be waiting for them somewhere to take them back home to be punished.  No, not home.  It wasn't home anymore.  This was home.  Hopefully, a good home.

  Back in America in a small untidy office, a small wrinkly old man entered carrying a newspaper and a cup of coffee.  He wasn’t all that remarkable except for the dingy grey robe he wore—that was very unusual.  He settled down in a well worn chair behind a tidy old wooden desk.  It was then that he finally noticed a large horned owl standing in the middle of his desk, looking very tired and very angry—well, as angry as an owl could look at least.

  "What's this?" he muttered.  He removed a heavy envelope of parchment from the owl's leg.  The owl hooted once, and gratefully sprang into the air, flying through a convenient opening in the wall, presumably to rest in the owlery. 

  "Hmmm, a returned letter?" he mumbled, taking out a gnarled stick and pointing at the letter.  The green ink writing began to swirl around in seemingly random patterns.

  "Emigrating are we?  No matter."  He casually chucked the letter into an empty "International" basket.  "Good luck to you, Mr. Lancaster."

  Later that day, the letter was collected by a bored clerk who dropped it into a large black cauldron that sat inside a blackened fireplace.  Later still, another robe-clad clerk ignited a green fire under the cauldron and with a clear voice, said "London!"  The cauldron, with its burdening contents, shivered slightly then shot up the soot-stained flue.  As it bumped along its journey, the letter posted to "Mr. Joseph Simon Lancaster" dangled on top of the pile, bouncing with every bump of the cauldron.  As expected, during one such bump, the letter jounced sharply and fell out, lodging itself in a crack along the flue.  For two long years the letter sat until a routine inspection found it lying in its hiding space.  The damage already done, the mailing clerks debated if the letter should be sent on, but the postal inspector stated in no uncertain terms that it should. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

The Boy Who Was Found

  A large shadow and the motion of silent flapping wings startled Joe as he carried the day’s trash to the outside bins.  He had been thinking of nothing in particular as he worked, but that sudden shape of movement out of the corner of his eye spooked him out of his mental numbness.  He had seen something like that before, he was sure of it, and if it was something he remembered, odds are it wasn’t something good.  He stood there for a few seconds trying to figure out what that old memory was.

  “Oy!  Look what we have here!  Black’s going through the bins again, looking for something to eat, no doubt!”  Laughter echoed down the alleyway, breaking his concentration.  Unfortunately, he didn’t need to think too hard as to whom that voice belonged to.  “Hey, Black!  Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

  Joe turned around resignedly.  Remember, he told himself, mouth closed and no reaction.  It’s not worth it.

  What he saw when he turned around was a group of boys, roughly the same size as he and two years older.  Last year, they had discovered the sport of taunting him, most likely because Joe never did anything to dissuade them.  The leader of the group, Bernard, really enjoyed badgering Joe, most likely because his family was no better off and it made him feel good just to push someone else around.  Joe’s dad was a lot like that.

  Bernard walked a couple steps closer, “So whatcha doing back here, Black?  That bin there look like a good place to sleep?”  More laughter.

  Joe casually dumped the refuse into the bin.  “I work here.”

  “Ooooooh!  Hear that, fellas?  He works in the bin!”  Apparently Bernard’s friends thought this was the height of comedy.  Well, with him as their de facto leader, they couldn’t expect witty repartee, could they?

  Joe figured his best bet would be to just walk back into the store, and if they started something, just bring out the secret weapon.

  Bernard moved to block his way.  “Where do you think you’re going?  Kind of rude to just leave when me and me pals just got here, doncha think?” 

  “Just going to get a broom handle.  Saw some rats back here and figured I could kill them while we talk.  Mr. Wright would get upset if he knew there were some out here.”

  The change in Bernard was subtle, but instantaneous.  Nothing his friends could see, but his eyes darted towards the bins and his mouth lost a touch of its leer.  Someone else thought Joe’s comment was funny though.  “Hey, maybe Black is just looking for something to cook up for dinner tonight!”  The other’s laughed but Bernard just stood there, undecided in what to do, which was just long enough for Joe to get to the deli’s back door.

  Just as he opened the door, he heard Bernard yell, “Come on! He’s no fun,” and the sound of feet scuffling back to the street.  Joe grinned a little to himself, marveling at just how easy it was.  Rats.  Bernard was very afraid of rats.  Probably something happened to him when he was very little, but it didn’t really matter.  What did matter is Bernard was equally afraid that his friends would find out about his fear and that would mean the end of his reign as king.

  Just as Joe closed the back door and picked up a broom to begin sweeping, Mr. Wright poked his head in the back.  “Ah, there you are.  Your mother dropped something off for you.  It’s up front.”  And with that, he vanished back into the front.

  That was a little odd, Joe thought.  Normally, his mother never dropped by Mr. Wright’s store.  They had an unspoken agreement about his job here; his mother disapproved of him having a job at the age of thirteen, but either realized they really needed the money or that he needed to feel useful.  So what would be so important that she felt that she had to bring it here, but not important enough to warrant staying?  Well, only one way to find out.

  The front of the store was a non-descript eatery, something his father would have called a Mom-and-Pop store.  A few customers sat at the well worn counter, reading the day’s paper or chatting with a neighbor.  Anthony, the café’s cook, was busy scrapping the burnt muck off the grill.  Mr. Wright picked up something next to the register and handed it to Joe with a sad smile.  It was that smile that got Joe his job about a year ago.  At age thirteen, most places wouldn’t have hired him—he was too young to legally work.  But Mr. Wright’s smile told him that he understood why Joe needed to work, and so for the past year, Joe would do odd jobs around the deli—as a courtesy, as it were—and Mr. Wright would sometimes hand him an envelope with some cash, strictly a gift, as it were.  If anyone suspected anything, they kept it to themselves, and so far, the department of labor hadn’t stopped by, so everything worked out okay.

  The item in question turned out to be a rather strange envelope, made of a thick, cream paper that felt heavy in the hand.  On the front, written in a very stylized handwriting in bright emerald ink, the letter was addressed to:

Mr. J. Lancaster

Spare Bedroom

Apt. 415 of Oaksure Complex

London

  Joe flipped the envelope over to the back and found a genuine wax seal affixed to the flap.  This all had to be some sort of joke, or at the very least a bit of whimsy.  He flipped the envelope over once more and then back again, puzzling over strange writing and seal.  The only other bit of information he gathered was that the insignia embossed in the wax was that of a shield with a large letter “H” stamped in the center.  Something else was imprinted within the shield but was too small to discern.

  Hesitantly, Joe picked at the seal, trying hard not to break it while opening the letter.  Inside was a single sheet of heavy paper inscribed with the same handwriting.

Dear Mr. Lancaster;

It is my great pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted to attend Hogwarts School, however there are many points that need to be discussed in person and as such, I will arrive at your home tomorrow, July 26^th, at 2:00pm. I look forward to meeting you in person.

Sincerely,

Professor Aurora Sinistra

  Now this was the strangest joke Joe had ever seen.  First, addressing the letter to him using his father’s surname, then telling him that he had been accepted to some finishing school he had never heard of.  Then, there’s the unusual name of the professor—Aurora was okay he supposed, but Sinistra?  Sounded like something out of a bad storybook.

  “So, you are Mr. Lancaster then?”  Mr. Wright asked in his typical worried tone.

  “No.  Well, yes, you could say in one sense I am.  But I haven’t used that name in years,” Mr. Wright looked even more worried and somewhat confused.  “When my parents separated, my mum and I took her maiden name.”  That seemed to mollify Mr. Wright somewhat.

  Joe refolded the letter and stuck it back in its envelope and then place that inside his front shirt pocket.  He turned to ask Mr. Wright if there was anything else he could do, but noticed there was a new, barely hidden gleam of dying curiosity within the man.  “Nothing very interesting.  A letter of acceptance to a school, but I think it’s a fake.  Would you like to read it?”  Mr. Wright’s face was a battleground of conflict, a strong desire to satisfy his curiosity warring with his sense of propriety. 

  “Here, it’s nothing really,” Joe said, handing over the envelope.  He felt it best to stay on good terms with Mr. Wright; a small act of goodwill here could have unforeseen rewards in the future.

  He left Mr. Wright poring over the letter, unwilling to interrupt with a rhetorical question.  If nothing else, Joe could sweep the back room like he had planned to do beforehand.  Ten minutes later, Mr. Wright came to the back and handed him the letter, still bearing his usual sad smile. 

  “It is a bit funny looking, that’s for sure.  I hope it is legitimate though, Joe.  It’d be wonderful if you got in a good school, smart lad like you.  Listen, it’s fairly quiet around here, why don’t you go home and discuss it with your mother?  I’m surprised she didn’t stay to find out what it was.”  He then handed a paper bag filled with what Joe assumed were sandwiches.  “Here, I even made you and your mum lunch.”

  “Mr. Wright, you don’t hav—“

  Mr. Wright waved aside his protests, “I know I don’t have to do anything, just—here, just take it,” and shoved the bag into Joe’s hand.

  “Thank you.”

  “Now go on.  It’s too beautiful a day to be stuck inside.”

*     *     *

  “Mum, are you home?”  Joe locked the door behind him, one of his mother’s rules.  He walked into their small kitchen and placed the sack on the table, reached into the refrigerator to find a couple of cans of drink, and then set to task of preparing a properly set table. Yet another one of his mother’s rules.  “Mum?”

  “In here.”

  ‘In here’ turned out to be her bedroom, sitting quietly in the middle of the bed, clutching a familiar looking letter to her chest.  She briefly looked a little nervous but quickly hid that with a smile when Joe entered the room.  “I see you got one too,” he quietly remarked.  No doubt, if it was addressed similar to his that would explain the jumpiness she tried hiding.

  “Yeah.  Kind of strange, isn’t it, out of the blue?”  She absently chewed on a fingernail.  “Still, it might be right kind of nice if you could to a good school.  Guess we’ll have to find out tomorrow then, eh?”  She was obviously not too thrilled with that prospect.

  “Yeah, well, I think it’s probably some kind of money making scam or something.  We’ll just tell the lady we’re not interested and send her on her way.  I brought home lunch.  Mr. Wright made me some sandwiches—roast beef I think.”

  “Maybe later.”

  “Okay,” Joe started to leave the room, but before he crossed the threshold, remarked, “It’s not dad.”

  She flinched a little at that.  “I know,” was all she said in response.

  “It’ll just be some lady trying to sell a fake entrance fee or something.  You’ll see.”

  The next day was fairly tense-filled.  Both of them had decided to stay in, his mother calling in a favor from a friend to cover her shift while Mr. Wright told Joe he could manage without him.  Joe wished he could have persuaded Mr. Wright to let him stay and work—it would have helped to pass away the time.  Instead, Joe spent the morning tidying the already clean apartment.  They didn’t have much in the way of either apartment space or belongings, and what little they had was well-worn or second hand.  Still, as mum always said, just because they didn’t have much did not mean they should live in squalor.  Every thing in its place and every place nice and clean.  Another of mum’s rules, but one he agreed with.  To Joe, a clean home meant the folks who lived there cared enough to keep it that way, and this was the best home Joe ever knew.

  After rearranging the bath’s towels for the second time, it started to get a bit crazy doing the same thing over and over.  For the first time in his life, he wished they had a television.  Or one of those computer games that you held in your hands.  One of those surely would keep him occupied for a few hours.  Instead, he turned to his own bedroom and looked over his sparse collection of books.  Nothing really jumped out him though, he’d read them all too many times.  Grudgingly, he took one off the shelf at random, and began pretending to read, mostly just to seem like he was bored rather than anxious.  After fifteen minutes, he gave up on the pretense and placed the book back in its place on the shelf.

  He then decided to check his appearance in the bathroom mirror once more.  Wetting a comb, he carefully slicked his hair back making sure nothing stuck out of place.  It was a sandy-blonde colored hair that looked like it would get darker as he got older.  At least that was what mum always kept telling him.  His face was slightly freckled, very round with slightly thick lips and dark brown eyes.  With his height and slightly pudgy frame, Joe could easily pass himself off as someone older, although most folks would also assume him to be somewhat simple-minded as well.  Still, that misrepresentation helped him quite a bit in the past; if you looked dumb, most folks would say just about anything in front of you thinking you wouldn’t remember anything they said.

  “Joe, stop fretting so.  Just come in here and sit with me.”

  He sighed a little to himself and quietly walked into the kitchen and sat opposite his mum at the small table.  She smiled slightly at him, but that was just her nerves showing again.  “What say we play a game?”

  He nodded agreement, but he really didn’t feel like playing cards again.  “Rummy or Cribbage?”

  “How about ‘Let’s Pretend?’” Joe looked skeptically at his mum, but it seemed like she had been thinking about this for some time.  “What if this Hogwarts school is legit and somehow we get you in there.”

  “Mom, I—“

  “Come on, no harm in dreaming.  So you get in there and work hard and make decent grades and whatnot.”  She seemed to have completely changed her mind about the prospect of him possibly going away to school.  What was that all about?

 Joe smiled slightly and responded, “Well first, I think I’d do better than just decent grades.  Let’s say I ace everything.”

  She smiled back at him, “Oh course you would.  So, top of the list, lots of good recommendations from teachers, what do you think you’d like to do then?”

  Ah.  The same old argument, just clothed differently.  “Mom, I dunno—“

  “Come off it!  You could possibly do anything if this is a good school!  How would you like to become a doctor or a solicitor or maybe one of those computer geniuses what’s making all that money.  Just about anything you ever wanted to be.  What do you want to do?”

  As usual, this question always made him uneasy.  “I dunno mum.”

  “Maybe you could be a writer.  You like to read all the time.  You could write!”

  “Maybe,” He really didn’t like where this was going.

  “I’m just saying that maybe we should be a little open-minded is all.  Hear what this Professor Sinistra has to say.  This may be your lucky break, Joe.  I just don’t want you to pass it up is all,” she looked down at the scratched tabletop.  “Something like this could make a big difference in your life.  You could do anything, not wind up serving food to people or washing dishes.  That’s all I’m saying.”

  There was an awkward silence that stretched far too long for Joe’s comfort.  When they first got to London, Ms. Black took the first job she could find, one that had her waiting tables.  She had insisted that it was only for a short time until they got themselves on their feet, but two years later, she was still stuck at the same job.  It worried her that Joe would find himself stuck in the same dead-end job, hence the silent war they had over him working for Mr. Wright.

  “So.  All this so I can be rich and famous?  Maybe buy you a nice flat in Kensington?” he mused.

  She laughed a little too loud, relieved that he broke the silence, “Yeah.  And a nice car too.  I want a Mercedes with a top that can be folded down.” 

  “No, no.  I get the convertible.  You’ll get one of those Ford Anglias and be happy with it.”  She laughed a little more loudly this time.

  There was a sharp knock on their front door.  Joe glanced at the clock in kitchen; two o’clock sharp.  Well, at the very least, this Professor Sinistra was punctual.  Ms. Black quickly walked to their foyer and peeked through the peephole.  She then unlocked the door and hesitantly opened it a crack.  “Yes?”

  Joe heard a woman say, “Professor Aurora Sinistra, and I presume you’re Mrs. Imogene Lancaster?  I am here to meet with your son as stated in my letter.  May I come in?”

 Ms. Black stepped back enough to let the woman in.  Whatever Joe might have expected, what he saw did not come close to meeting his expectations.  She was very tall and thin, black hair, blacker eyes, and seemed to be no older than thirty.  But it was her outfit that completely took him off guard.  She wore a midnight blue cloak or maybe it was a large gown or something, her head crowned with what could only be called a witch’s hat.  It was almost comical, like she was from a stage production of one of Shakespeare’s plays.

  She walked into their tiny living room and gazed at him sitting in the kitchen like a predatory bird. “And you must be Joseph Lancaster.  Pleased to meet you.”

  Joe stood up and took a step forward.  “Actually, no I’m not.”

  That stopped her short.  “Beg pardon?”

  “My name is Joseph Black.  I mean, my last name used to be Lancaster, but, well, it’s not anymore.  Neither is my mum.  Lancaster I mean.”

  She took this all in stride, he’d give her that.  “Well, even more evidence of this debacle,” she muttered to herself.  “Well then, Mr. Black.  Shall we sit here in your living room or would you feel more comfortable in the kitchen?”

  “Hasn’t there been a mix-up?  Perhaps you meant to contact another ‘J. Lancaster’ or something?”

  “Oh no.  I knew I found the right boy the minute I laid eyes on you.  Please, allow me time to explain everything to you.”

  Joe started to object but saw the pleading glance in his mother’s eyes and thought better of it.  He instead brought his chair to the edge of the living room, allowing his mum to sit in the comfortable recliner while Professor Sinistra was left with the small love seat to herself.  When everyone was settled, she pulled out a thick sheath of papers seemingly out of nowhere and settled them before her on the coffee table.

  “Well then,” she said, apparently trying to collect her thoughts, “As I’ve said to your mother, I am Professor Aurora Sinistra and I have come to explain to you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts and exactly what that means.” She gave a little cough and then went on.  “Hogwarts is the prestigious school of witchcraft that prepares young wizards and witches during their formative years to become model citizens in this new modern world.  Headed by the accomplished Albus Dumbledore, our staff focus on standard lessons involving basic spellcraft and conjuring, while also including course work that educates the young wizard in accepting his role within the Muggle world.  To be accepted by this institution of higher learning should be considered a great honor.”

  She looked up at both of them, daring them to contradict her.

  Joe merely glanced quietly at his mother who in turn was somewhat shocked by this audacious pronouncement.  She quickly gathered her wits and smiled back at him.  “So, I guess becoming a doctor is out of the question then,” she remarked to him.

  Professor Sinistra, if that was her real name, looked a little confused, “No, we have doctors, but we call them healers instead.”  At that, Ms Black barked out one nervous laugh.  Sinistra looked a little annoyed.  “Look, I know this may sound a little bit ridiculous right now, but I am telling the truth.”

  “Care to prove it?”  He was starting to get a little annoyed himself.  Who was this nutjob anyway?

  “Certainly,” and with that, Professor Sinistra pulled out a thin black wand and waved it around slightly.  At first, nothing happened and Joe was about to make another comment when he heard a small clinking noise just as he saw his mother’s eyes grow wide in fear.  Just as he turned to look at what frightened his mum, a trio of chipped coffee mugs floated into the room along with the bowl of sugar, some tea bags, and the pitcher from their coffee maker.  As he watched in fascination, the pitcher somehow filled itself with water and began to boil.  It poured its contents into the mugs while the tea bags gently dropped inside as well, followed by a modest helping of sugar.  A mug floated towards each of them.

  Professor Sinistra grabbed hers from the air and took a sip.

   “I really needed that,” she sighed.  “I’m not good at Muggle relations and well, your case is proving to be a little tricky.”

  Joe calmly took his mug out of the air, carefully sipping the contents.  It was definitely tea, just as he liked it.  He looked back to his mum, who sat there not knowing what to do while a mug of hot tea floated in front of her.  Seeing his actions, she finally got the nerve to take hers as well, although she didn’t drink.

  His mind raced at the implications.  One, magic actually existed and apparently there was a whole separate society of folks who could do magic—have to be if they actually had a school, now wouldn’t it?  Two, this lady was telling him that he had a talent for magic, though for the life of him, he never noticed any such thing.  And finally, three, he was supposed to just hop off and go to wherever this professor told him go.  Needless to say, he was having a difficult time accepting all of this, even after witnessing her little show.

  Professor Sinistra started to rifle through the contents of her papers.  “Look, I understand this is probably a big shock to the both of you—“

  “You think!!?”  Ms Black’s retort made both Joe and Professor Sinistra jump in their seats. 

  Undeterred, Professor Sinistra continued, “—for that reason, the Ministry of Magic has made a couple of pamphlets to help you understand everything that’s going on, although I find them a little useless myself.”  She handed Joe two small booklets, the first titled, “My Child Can Shoot Fire, What Am I To Do?  A Muggle Parent’s Guide to Coping With a Wizard For a Child” and the other, “Growing Up a Wizard in a Muggle World; a Young Wizard’s Guide to the World of Magic.”   Aside from the bright purple paper and gold lettering—did he just see it move?—both looked exactly like something you’d expect at a department of motor vehicles or a post office.

  Joe looked back at her blankly as he handed the two pamphlets to his mother.

  “Yes, I know, but what to expect from a government department?  Now that we’ve got that unpleasantness out of the way, I have a list of your books that you will need and a list of supplies.  Since you know nothing of the wizarding world, it is my duty to escort the two of you while you go shopping; we can schedule a time to do that later.  You are expected to catch the Hogwarts Express September first at King’s Cross; we’ve enclosed a ticket and directions on how to get there.  I know you have lots of questions, but I would ask that you read the government pamphlet first—it should answer most of the ridiculous questions at any rate.”

  “Hold on,” Joe’s mind raced while his mother quietly flipped through all the paper and booklets.  “Who said I’m going in the first place?  I mean, even if I believe all of this, surely we can’t afford this.  Do you even use pounds?”

  At that, Professor Sinistra smiled a little.  “To answer the last question first, no, we don’t use pounds.  We have our own money system.  However, Gringotts Bank is used to handling currency from Muggles so that will not be an issue.  As to whether you can afford to attend, yes you can.  Some of the school’s benefactors have set up a trust fund to help those in need and we have already drawn a small sum for your first year.  Mind, you probably will have to buy a lot of things second-hand, but you will find your tuition is covered.  As to whether or not you are attending, well of course you are.  I know all of this sounds a little scary at first, but trust me, by the time we’ve finished your shopping spree, neither of you will never question whether or not you’ll be going.”

  Still, something niggled the back of his brain.  “This school is much like a finishing school, right?  Seven years of study before college.  Shouldn’t I have started all of this when I was eleven?”

  Professor Sinistra’s mood changed only slightly, but it was obvious she was a little embarrassed and possibly even a little angry as well.

  “Yes, well.  You’re very perceptive you know,” she smoothed out her gown a little. “Yes, students enter Hogwarts during their eleventh year.  However, there was a bit of a mix-up.  Judging from my report, you are originally from the States, are you not?”

  Joe started to answer but stopped short as he worked through exactly what she was saying.  In a flash, it hit him.  He was eleven right at the time he and his mom ran away.  “Our trip to London messed something up, didn’t it?”  For the first time, Joe’s guard slipped just enough for everyone to see the disappointment in his face.

  “Yes.  You would have received this visit from someone at the Salem School of Witchcraft had you stayed there, but then the two of you came to England, and the letter that was sent to the Ministry of Magic explaining the situation got misplaced, and well—“

  Ms Black stood up at that.  “Misplaced?  You mean with all that magic you can do, you still managed to lose something like that?”

  “We may be wizards ma’am, but that doesn’t mean we’re perfect.”  Professor Sinistra turned back to Joe, “Yes, Joe, everyone is aware you got the wrong end of the wand here.  Folks at the Ministry are yelling at the States’ Department of Magic and vice versa, trying to find the other at fault.  I know for a fact the Headmaster is very angry over this whole matter.  However, none of that helps you here.  Right now, the best I can offer you is Hogwarts’ sincerest apology and what limited assistance we can give you.  Currently, the Headmaster will be following your first year very closely and if it seems you have the talent to learn quickly, he’ll allow you to add extra classes to allow you to graduate when you normally would have.  If on the other hand, things prove too difficult, the faculty has agreed to privately tutor you so that you can keep up.  Frankly, I believe you might just be able to graduate in five years instead of seven.”

  Both of them sat there in silence, digesting the news Professor Sinistra gave them.  “Professor,” Ms Black said finally, “Could you give us a second to talk this over?”

  “Certainly.  I could stand for a fresh cup as it is.”  She quietly closed the kitchen door behind her as she left.

  “Joe, I’m sorry to get your hopes up about this.  You were right—“

  “I want to go.”

  “What?  You can’t be serious!  She’s obviously a nutter and this some sort of scam just like you said.”

  “No, I think this is real.”  Ms Black snorted in exasperation.  “No really, I mean it.  I don’t doubt she is some sort of nutter, I will grant you that.  But she is telling the truth, as much as she knows of it.  Either that, or she is a very good liar.”

  “Joe, I know you think you can read folks, but she has to be a professional con artist or something.  There’s no way—“

  “And the floating cups were some sort of scam too?  No, I’m certain of this and I want to go.”

  Ms Black just sat there flabbergasted.  “But why, Joe?”

  “It was like you said, this could be my big chance.”  Ms. Black didn’t looked convinced.  “Look, let’s go see the place.  Go on this shopping trip she mentioned.  Just do one year of schooling and let me see what’s there.  If you’re stilled not thrilled at the idea, if you still think this is a bad idea, I’ll quit.”  Joe sat there with a blank expression on his face, waiting for his mom to make a decision, seemingly uninterested in what she chose.  He would abide by what she decided, but inwardly he would be crushed if she said no.  Finally, she sighed a little and slowly nodded her head.

  “Okay.  I’ll make a deal with you.  We’ll go shopping.  After we’re done, if I still have reservations, we give everything back and you don’t go.”

  Well, it was better than a definite no.  “Yes, mother.”

  Just then, Professor Sinistra walked back into the living room, carefully stirring a hot cup of tea.  “Well then, I take it everything is smashing then.”  She sat down once more on the love seat.  “Shall we schedule a time to pick up your books and supplies then?”

  “Where would we have to go?” Joe asked.

  “Not far.  There is a place nearby we could go; a few blocks away in fact.”

  “Then why not now?”  He half expected her to argue, but he had a good reason.  “Look, my mom can’t be expected to take off work all the time.  I expect you have better things to than to shepherd us around as well.  So why don’t we just get all of this over today?”  Better to keep his mom a little off kilter than to let her have time to think about all of this and make up her mind prematurely.  Besides, it would throw off Professor Sinistra a little as well; if she was a fraud, how would she make of his suggestion?

  The professor just smiled, looking a little bit relieved.  “Excellent!  I was actually wondering if I could manage to persuade you to do this today.  I’m a little pressed for time,” she confided.  She began to pick up the various bits of paper she had strewn across the coffee table, packing them away in pockets and sleeves, the contents seemingly vanishing as they disappeared from view.  She left one piece of paper out which she studied carefully.  “A standard list for first years.  Here, I imagine you should hold onto this.”   She handed it over to Joe.  On it was veritable list of what any typical schoolboy would need, although some of the items were a bit unusual.  It read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1.  Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

            The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)

                        by Miranda Goshawk

            A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

            Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

            A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

            One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi

                        by Phyllida Spore

            Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

            The Monster Book of Monsters by Newt Scamander

            The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Preservation

                        by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

            1 wand

            1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

            1 set of glass or crystal phials

            1 telescope

            1 set of brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.

  “So where do we get all of this?”

Professor Sinistra finished her packing, stood up to look at him squarely and answered, “Diagon Alley.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

Purchases and Scams

  The three of them were soon walking down the street, Professor Sinistra leading her charges.  It was an odd group, Joe thought, but even odder was the fact that it seemed no one noticed how strangely dressed their leader was.  Oh people noticed her if they happened to walked into her, but it was as if their eyes would just either glaze over or simply slide past her, not bothering to register her presence.  More magic, he mused.

  Professor Sinistra was truthful when she said their designation was close by.  In fact, it was only a few stores down from Mr. Wright’s place.  They stopped in front of a run-down pub which sported a sign proclaiming it to be “The Leaky Cauldron.”  He had noticed it before, but always assumed it was closed, so disheveled it looked.  They entered into a tiny, grubby-looking room.

  “I can’t believe I’ve never seen this place before,” his mom breathed.

  “You’re not supposed to,” Professor Sinistra casually remarked.  “Nothing today, Tom,” she called out to a toothless barman, “just bringing a new student.”  She led them to the back, out to a small courtyard that contained nothing but a couple of trash bins and some weeds.  Ms. Black looked a bit bewildered, but Joe knew enough to wait—something would show them the way.

  Sure enough, Sinistra simply walked to the back towards the brick wall and gently pressed three times one of the bricks over the trash bins.  It seemed to quiver, then melted away.  Slowly more of the bricks began to shift, slide, or just vanish as a hole opened up in the middle of the wall which eventually formed into a large, archaic archway.  Ms Black gasped in surprise.

  “Remember, three up, two over, tap three times,” Sinistra told Joe.  “Next time, it’ll only be the two of you.”  She started to walk through the archway, but stopped and turned back to Joe.  “I should have asked before, but this whole day has been a whirlwind for me.  Do you plan to go by your mother’s surname while at Hogwarts?  I mean, are you sure you couldn’t be persuaded to go by Joseph Lancaster?”

  It was a very odd question for what was turning into being a very odd day.  “No.  I’ve been Joe Black for two years now and I have no intention to being a Lancaster ever again. Why?”

  Professor Sinistra just looked out towards the busy street beyond the archway.  “We’ve had a notorious criminal escape from prison recently—you share his last name.”  She looked back at him again.  “It could prove a little troubling at school.”

  “Black is a common name.”

  “You might change your mind while we’re here.”  With that enigmatic response, she led them into Diagon Alley.

  Joe had expected something bizarre for a magic market, but it was actually more surprised at how normal it looked.  Oh sure, you wouldn’t find too many shops in London that could sell you flying broomsticks or golden self-boiling cauldrons or even mailing owls (whatever those were), but for the most part, the people on the street could have been ordinary shoppers, although perhaps more colorful.  Elderly matrons haggled with street merchants, children ran screaming through the throngs, even an older boy was hawking what looked to be newspapers stood on a corner.

  “What would you like to see first?” Sinistra gently asked him.

  Joe looked back at his list of items he needed and thought for a second.  “If I don’t have much to spend, what items would be best to have brand new?”  He noticed her smile slightly at him; perhaps her opinion of him went up a notch with that question.

  “Well, buying a second-hand wand is never a good idea; no telling what might be wrong with it.  I’d suggest we get that first.  Then, I would recommend a good set of tools for potions—rarely does anyone sell an old cauldron so there is hardly a market for them, and I’d watch out for the foreign made, they can be a bit substandard.  Same goes for the brass scales.  Those items I’d definitely buy new.” She began to walk as she continued speaking. “Now most folks would say the telescope should also be new, but many students only take the basic courses in astronomy and will sell their telescopes to younger students.  As a matter of fact, I believe I have a couple of students who wish to do that right now. She paused and turned to look directly at him at this point in the conversation. “I’m not sure if I mentioned it, but I teach Astronomy at Hogwarts.  At any rate, I believe I have just the telescope for you at a reasonable price, so we can cross that item off before we even start.  Unless, you have a particular type you wish to purchase?”

  “I’ll trust your judgment.”

  “Well then.  Other than what I mentioned, the rest can be purchased second-hand, provided you check the books to ensure they are legible.  Goodness knows what all students scribble inside the margins.  Shall we go look at wands then?”

  With a silent nod of his head, Professor Sinistra started to briskly walk down a side street past a tall marbled building with GRINGOTTS inscribed in large gold letters on the facade.  They passed neat, tidy storefronts selling clothing, small disheveled shops apparently vacant, and everything in between.  The whole street seemed to be utter chaos, but apparently it made perfect sense to Professor Sinistra.  Finally, they ended up in front of a narrow storefront, quite shabby with age.  The sign over the door proclaimed it to be “Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.” but considering the peeling letters and the dingy windows, Joe wondered just how fine these wands were.  As they walked inside, he noticed just inside the window display, a single wand lying on a faded purple cushion—fine wands indeed.

  The inside wasn’t much different.  It was tiny and very dark, what with all the thousands of narrow boxes stacked floor to ceiling.  Dust tickled the back of his throat and Joe concentrated very hard not to cough.  Something else that he couldn’t define made all the hairs on the back of his neck rise up in alarm.  Magic, perhaps?

  “Good afternoon, Professor.  How may I be of assistance?” asked a quiet voice.  Ms. Black actually jumped back in surprise, something Joe managed to suppress at the last moment.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Ollivander.  I’ve brought a Joseph Black, new student at Hogwarts, to be fitted for a wand.  Muggle-born.  Joe, this is Mr. Ollivander, probably Europe’s greatest wand maker.”

  Mr. Ollivander smiled slightly this great praise and offered his hand to Joe.  It was very dry to his touch, feeling more like old paper than skin, but the grip was stronger than Joe had expected.  Curious eyes Mr. Ollivander had as well, pale clear eyes that stared with a tenacity of a predator.

  “Mr. Black is it?  Perhaps a relation of Sirius Black?” Mr. Ollivander softly asked as he reached for the tape measure that draped across his neck.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Joe answered just as soft.

  “Teak, twelve inches, pliable.”  When Joe arched an eyebrow in bemusement, Mr. Ollivander resumed.  “I remember every wand I sell, my boy.  That wand belonged to the other Mr. Black, I’m sad to say.  But I do ramble so these days.  So, which is your wand arm?”

  Joe wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by this, but assumed he meant which was his dominant hand and raised his left.  Mr. Ollivander began taking measurements with his tape, first shoulder to fingertip, then elbow to wrist, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and even once around his head.  “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance.  We use unicorn hair, phoenix tail feathers, and dragon heartstrings.  As no two creatures are the same, so too are every wand sold here.  A precise of combination of the core material and wood, balanced in perfect harmony that resonates for an individual.  For that reason, Mr. Black, you should note that you will never have as good results from another wizard’s wand.”

  Joe was taking all of this in while stoically ignoring the fact that the tape measure continued its measuring all on its own while Mr. Ollivander began sorting through the various boxes around the store.  “Enough.”  Immediately, the tape crumpled to the floor.  “Most people, Mr. Black, believe that they are selecting a wand when in fact, it is the wand that selects them.  Let’s see what these think of you, shall we?”

  Joe gingerly accepted the stout wand Mr. Ollivander handed him.  “Oak, nine inches, rigid.  Well, give it a wave then.”  Feeling a little silly, Joe did his best to imitate a stage magician, waving the wand over an imaginary hat, but the old man almost immediately snatched it out of his hand and handed him another.

  “Rosewood, twelve inches, flexible.  Try this—“ but no sooner had he handed it to Joe that he whipped it out his grip and gave him another.

  “Dogwood, seven inches, resilient.  Another wave now.”

  For fifteen minutes this little show continued, Mr. Ollivander handing him various wands in what seemed like at random.  Sometimes Joe would just barely touch the wand in question only to have it whisked away, while other times Mr. Ollivander would have him try several times waving a particular wand around with no particular reason as to why.  He was beginning to feel very foolish, that perhaps this was some complicated joke set up by someone.  Professor Sinistra looked a little bored as did his mother.  Mr. Ollivander, on the other hand, seemed very amused by the whole affair.

  “A tricky customer, are you?  I haven’t had this much of a challenge since…well, never you mind.  No matter, we will find the right one, never fear.  Hmmmm,” Mr. Ollivander began to stare at him intently as he waved the latest wand (ebony, nine and a half inches, supple) in frustration.  “I wonder….”  He walked towards the front of the store, stooping to pick up something inside the window display case.  As he walked back, Joe could see that he held in his hands the wand that was prominently displayed on the faded cushion.  He carried it like it was a very delicate artifact, or perhaps more like a live bomb.  “Try this one.”

  Joe looked back into those piercing pale eyes, wondering what Mr. Ollivander was thinking.  Joe half expected him to look fearful judging by the way he carried this old wand, but instead there was something in his eyes Joe couldn’t quite identify, something like a thoughtful stare, but more intense, calculating.  Joe almost walked out the door at that instance but instead, hesitantly picked up the offered wand.

  The change was very subtle, yet worlds different than what had happened with the other wands.  A warm, glowing sensation seemed to run throughout his entire body, pouring out his fingertips and into the wand.  Mr. Ollivander let out a small sigh, “Oh yes.  I think we found it, Mr. Black.”  He held out his hand for Joe to see.  Before, it looked dry and almost lifeless.  Now, the skin of his hand and fingers looked more smooth and livelier.  Joe swore it looked like Mr. Ollivander’s hand had gotten twenty years younger. 

  Mr. Ollivander held up his hand to closely inspect it, repeatedly clenching the fist closed.  “Oh yes, Mr. Black.  Well done.  Been meaning to do that for months now, but never seemed to get around to it.”  He looked back at Joe and stared even harder than before into his eyes.  Joe’s eyes began to water and he tried to look down—don’t cause trouble, don’t attract attention—but something in those pale eyes refused to let him turn away.

  “Very curious, Mr. Black.  What you hold in your hands is a very unusual wand, at least very unusual for this store.  Very unusual.  It was made by a very distant grandmother of mine, several hundred years ago.  Rumor has it she had fallen in love with a young wizard and that they were engaged to be married, but some illness befell him and when he passed away, in mourning she fashioned this wand out of the small bone of his forearm—the radius healers would call it—and well, there the story gets a little confused.”

  Mr. Ollivander gently plucked the wand from Joe’s hand and began to roll it between his youthful thumb and forefinger.  “Some stories suggest that the young wizard had been cursed to death by a rival, and she set out on a path of revenge.  Others say that he died from disease and in her grief, became a renowned healer.  Nonetheless, this wand was formed with old magic.  Blood magic.  In the right hands, it could great things.  However, it also has the ability to do terrible things.”  Mr. Ollivander paused a while in his narration studying Joe even more intently than he had before, if such a thing was possible.  “Oh what are we to do with you?”

  Finally much to his relief, Joe found that he could drop his gaze away from the wand maker.  He blinked a few times to moisten his eyes as he sorted with what Mr. Ollivander had said.  “Perhaps I should try some other wands,” was all he could manage to say.

  Mr. Ollivander sighed once more.  “No, I imagine we would have the same difficulty as before.  No, Mr. Black, as I said before, the wand chooses the wizard and I must say you have been chosen.”  With that, the wand maker reverently placed the bone wand into an old wooden box he held in his other hand, wrapped the case in brown paper and then handed the package to Joe.  “Bone with human heartstring and silk for the core.  Somewhat rigid, but pliable.  Please take good care of it, sir.”

  Professor Sinistra stood up from a nearby chair she had been sitting in and dug out the leather wallet she had shown them before.  “And how much will that be, Mr. Ollivander.”

  He smiled slightly at her.  “My dear that is a priceless family heirloom passed down to each generation.  No amount of money could persuade me to part with it.”  She started to reply but he held up his new hand.  “Mr. Black, please consider this to be a gift to you, as it were.”  He gave a slight wave of dismissal and started to retreat to the back of the store.

  “Sir,” Joe called out hesitantly.  “You didn’t mention the length.”

  Mr. Ollivander turned around slowly, a questioning eyebrow arched high over his left eye.

  Joe felt very foolish to bring it up, but something nagged him and feeling that he had already stepped out on a precarious limb made him continue.  “The other wands.  You stated what they were made of and their lengths.  But you didn’t with this one.”

  The eyebrow slowly settled down as Mr. Ollivander’s face crinkled in what could only be considered amusement.  “No.  No, I didn’t, did I?  Curious thing that.”  And with only those words as an answer to Joe’s unvoiced question, he turned around and disappeared into the back, leaving them there to guess what he meant with that cryptic response.

*      *      *

  “Well then, now that is out of the way, how about we stop by Guilden’s for your cauldron and scales, then we stop by Flourish and Blotts for your school books.  From there, we’ll see how you are doing for gold and can decide our best course of action from there.”  Professor Sinistra made a determined gait down the street and Joe and Ms. Black are forced to follow.

  Joe’s mind reeled with questions he dearly wanted to ask, but couldn’t see a way to ask them without involving his mother in the discussion.  Surely what just happened in the wand shop was not an ordinary purchase.  And who was Sirius Black?  Was he the person Professor Sinistra warned him about?  And why wasn’t his mother as spooked as she was at the flat?  But as much as he desired to ask these very questions, a sentence kept rolling through his mind—keep your mouth shut, eyes open, head down.  Attracting attention was never a safe idea; better to figure things out for himself.

  And sure enough, one question was answered for him as they walked into Guilden’s Supplies—a man was posting bills on the side of the building:

WANTED

Sirius Black

Wizards are advised to be on the lookout for the notorious criminal Sirius Black.  He is considered armed and dangerous and as such, should not be approached.  If spotted, please contact the Auror’s Office immediately.

  Below the words, a moving picture of a very disheveled man glared at everyone who walked by; presumably this was Sirius Black.  Well, that answered one question, but it posed another one; what was the Auror’s Office?  Their version of Scotland Yard?  Joe paused to stare at the photograph of the man.  It was eerie the way how Black’s eyes stared out into the real world, possibly seeing things, but not focused on anything.  He could have easily have passed for a normal, non-moving picture, but he would occasionally sway slightly from one side to the other, as if his feet hurt and he was trying to shift his weight to find a more comfortable position.  He was a sad state of a man, unkempt hair and beard, gaunt cheeks and neck, more like a wild animal than a man.  But the eyes were very human. Within them, Joe could see an emotion that was all too familiar only a few short years ago—that of dejected desperation.  This was a man who in his mind, was already dead, and because of that had very little left to lose.  A very dangerous man.

  “I see you’ve spotted him,” a voice said behind him, startling him out of his concentration.  Professor Sinistra had poised herself just behind and slightly to the right of Joe, studiously examining Sirius Black’s picture.

  “What did he do?” Joe blurted out before he could stop himself.

  She turned to him fully to respond, “A few years back, he was in league with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—a dark wizard who was bent on taking over the wizarding world.  Anyway, Black did a lot of nasty stuff, and in the end, blew up part of a street crowded with muggles.  The Aurors that caught him said he was laughing all the while and then he just quietly followed them to jail.  He’s insane, Joe.”

  Joe turned back to stare into Sirius Black’s eyes as he digested all he heard.

  “Still think keeping Black as your last name is a good idea?” Professor quietly asked.

  He turned back to her again, not sure what he should answer.  Finally, he mumbled, “Let’s go get my equipment,” and quietly opened the door to Guilden’s Supplies.

The rest of the shopping spree Joe barely acknowledged, just agreeing to whatever the shopkeeper or Professor Sinistra recommended.  Being thrust into this new world, this whole new way of thinking had unsettled him a little more than he would admit to, but to throw on top of that the possibility of being linked to a fugitive was a little more than he could handle.  And then on top of all of that, there was the whole incident with the wand he acquired.  To listen to Mr. Ollivander, you would have expected Joe had just been handed a loaded pistol.  And then the final bit of lunacy to all of this—his mother so far had not voiced one word of objection.  It wasn't like her.

  Currently they were just outside an ice cream parlor quietly eating chocolate sundaes.  Sitting on the small table was all of their purchases thus far; a set of used school uniforms (wizard robes, the tailor called them), a brass set of scales, a pewter cauldron, a set of glass bottles (presumably for potion making), and a set of used school books. And that creepy wand of course.  Joe couldn't remember selecting any of the items except the one book he had to purchase new.  Considering that the book actually bit the proprietor when he collected it out of a large iron cage, it was hardly unlikely Joe could have overlooked that.  Yet another item of questionable nature.

  "Well then," Professor Sinistra sighed as she finished the last bit of ice cream and caramel sauce, "I believe we've had a good break after all that walking.  Can't stand to shop on an empty stomach.  What else do we need to get?  Don't have the gloves or cloak--there's a nice outfitter's place I know down the street from here that will do.  Would you like a pet?"

  Joe broke himself out of his reverie to think that over.  He had never been allowed to have a pet before, and quite frankly was a little hesitant to get one now—if ever the case of a quick flight was needed.  "No, I don't think so."

  "No?  An owl could be very useful.  Well, if that's it, how about we finish this up and set up a saving account for you?"  She began to fish through that wallet again.  "Yes, quite a bit left over in fact."

  Joe stared at the growing pile of stuff.  "I'll need something to carry everything.  Or could you just whisk it all away somehow?"

  Professor Sinistra collected all their dishes and placed them in a chute beside the store.  "A trunk would be more appropriate. Well then, let's be off."  As she began to stride down the sidewalk, Joe sidled up to his mother.

  "You seem a little quiet during all of this," he whispered.

  "Well, why not?  Frankly, I'm a little disappointed with all of it.  I was expecting something a little more....strange.  Come on, let's not keep her waiting."

  Something a little more strange?  A biting book, a demented wizard on the loose, and a chap foretelling doom and gloom for the person that holds that bone wand, and she wanted something a little more strange?  What was going on here?  He had stood there in shock and had to run a little to catch up to them.

  The professor led them to another run-down store sitting down a narrow dark alley.  The store turned out to be Londinium Emporium, or rather the sign painted on the dirty glass had read:  LO DIN UM EM ORIUM, but it was a fair guess.  Inside was yet another ramshackle store with very few shoppers.  Shelves were littered with what looked to be useless junk of unimaginable origin.  Frankly, Joe was starting to get a little annoyed with having to shop like this.

  The store proprietor quickly showed up at the tinkling of the door's bell.  "Ah, yes!  How may I be of assistance?"  He was unconsciously rubbing his gnarled hands together, no doubt at the prospect of conning them out of some money.

  "We're in need of a pair of student work gloves, a cloak, and a means of carrying this young man's belongings off to school."  Professor Sinistra said.

  The man pulled out a bin filled with various mismatched gloves and began sizing up Joe's hands.  "Quite large you are.  Might need an adult wizard's set.  Ah, wait.  Here we are!"  He pulled out two gloves that were large enough for Joe's hands, only one was a hideous shade of purple while the other was too charred to know what the original color had been.  Joe just stood there holding the two gloves staring at the man with a questioning look.

  "What?  Those are perfectly fine!  Granted the right one is a little broken in, but that just means you're a serious wizard who's not afraid to wade right inta the thick of things.  Seven sickles and no less.  That's a steal, it is."  Professor Sinistra just sighed and paid his price before Joe could object which really annoyed him.  Sure, he didn't know much about gloves, or even what a sickle was, but come on, this guy would have accepted two thirds his starting price had she just even tried to haggle.  Plus the fact that he was now stuck with a set of gloves he had no intention of ever wearing.

  Professor Sinistra must have sensed something of his displeasure because she slipped out her own wand and waved them over the two gloves still dangling in his hands.  Instantly both turned a warm shade of brown, although the right one still seemed a more 'well done' than the left.  She just looked at him with a ‘happy now?’ glance that made him carefully fold them up and place them inside the cauldron.

  "See?  Practically good as new.  I could'a done that meself if you'da give me half a mo."  Joe rather doubted that.  "Now then, a good cloak.  Something for them cold winter mornings out in the castle eh?"  Once again, the man began to rummage around the various boxes and bins.  "Cloak, cloak.  Ooh, how about this one?"  He held up what could only be called a burlap sack.  Joe shook his head before Sinistra could dig out money.  It was one thing to be saddled with mismatched gloves (even if they did look more like each other), there was no way he would show up on the first day of school wearing something that could have possibly held fifty pounds of potatoes in a previous life.

  "Yeah, too small.  Ah, 'ere we go!"  Surprisingly, this turned out to be a reasonably nice black cloak, if slightly threadbare on the edges.  The collar sported a frilly black lacework, but that could easily be removed with a little care.  Mom might even be able to reuse the lace as well.

  "Got that off my dear father before we buried 'im."  Joe's eyes bulged just a little at that comment.  "Hah-hah! Just foolin' with ya a little, mate.  Twenty sickles."  Again, Professor Sinistra paid without comment and the man's eyes gleamed a little brighter.  Joe just looked at the cloak and hoped he could ignore the shopkeeper's comments which he suspected were very much the truth.  Perhaps a good washing would help.

  "And as for luggage, I've got jus’ the thing for you, chap!"  With this, the man scrambled around the counter and pulled out a handbag from behind.  "Jus’ got this in and was planning to keep for meself, it's so nice.  But for you, three galleons."  He practically shoved the bag into Joe's hands.  Professor Sinistra started once again to pay the man's price, but Joe held up a hand.

  "Wait." was all he said.  Joe looked back at the proprietor and noticed something new in his eyes—it was almost like the man was relieved to be selling this particular item rather than happy to scam them once more.  Joe slowly ran his fingers over the leather of the bag.  It could almost be called a lady's purse if it weren't so plain looking.  Still, something in the way the man stood there, looking expectantly at him made him pause.  Maybe now was a good time for some questions.

  "I'm looking for something large enough for all I need to go to school; books, clothing, materials, everything."

  The proprietor looked a little relieved at his statement.  "Oh that'd be no problem there, mate.  Go on, check out the interior."  Joe opened the bag and peered inside.  Considering the size of it, the inside seemed a little deeper than he expected to be.  "No, go on, reach inside," the proprietor encouraged.  Doing so, Joe was somewhat surprised to find that he could reach inside the bag clear up to his armpit, but he still couldn't feel the bottom.  "See, it's got an abyssal charm on it—stretches it out to hold anything that can fit through the openin', see?"

  Joe looked once more at the bag, a little more appreciative of it.  It would be the perfect thing for anyone having to carry a large amount of luggage somewhere.  So why was this guy so eager to sell it?  While pondering that question, Joe got a whiff of something unusual but distinctive from the inside of the bag.  He glanced once more at the shopkeeper, and noticed a bit of wariness in the man's eyes.  Instinctively, he upended the bag and shook it slightly, wondering if anything would fall out.

  In fact, something did fall out.  Something very small and brown.  That was all Joe could determine before it fell into his awaiting hand, his fingers quickly closing into a tight fist.  The change in the shopkeeper was very subtle, but for Joe it was tremendous.  He could actually sense fear rolling off the man, and possibly regret; perhaps he had shown a little more initiative than the man was comfortable with.

  The shopkeeper started to say something—most likely to the likes of suggesting he had something a little more appropriate for his customer—but Joe held up his hand to stop him.

  "Seems a little dirty on the inside; probably will take all day to clean something that large of volume.  Considering that you charged us what I'd call a premium on a pair of worn out gloves and a cloak of questionable nature, what say we call this a gift instead?  Sort of an incentive for repeat business in the future?"

  Staring straight into the proprietor's eyes as he said this, Joe knew he had him.  Relief, mixed with a little of grudging respect told him all he needed to know.  This man wanted this item gone with no questions asked.  Sure, he made the attempt to gouge them once more for money, but that was nothing more than man's greed trying to eke out a little more gold from them all the while as he disposed of something most likely used for something illegal.  Joe couldn't blame him for the attempt, but then, Joe also had no second thoughts out of turning the tables on him and getting a very useful bag for free.  Sure, he ran the risk of whatever this man was avoiding, but he could easily say he bought it in some junk store for school, and would you believe it, he couldn't remember where.  Joe could see the shopkeeper also understood this silent conversation.

  The proprietor chuckled a little nervously and responded, "Sure, why not?  Always looking for repeat customers, eh?"  He wrapped up their purchases and Joe added them to the burgeoning pile within the cauldron.  They left without further word.

  Once outside, Professor Sinistra announced that they should probably finish at the bank—by now it was getting rather late and all at once, the day's events began to wear Joe thin.  They headed back to the marbled building with the GRINGOTTS name chiseled over the lintel.  Inside, Joe was not surprised to see yet more strangeness that his mother blithely ignored; small creatures worked the tellers' desks, obviously not human, but nothing Joe recognized.  If he were to guess, goblins based on the short stature and permanent scowl on their faces, but all he had to go by were movies.

  Professor Sinistra helped Ms. Black with the formalities of opening an account and handed the 'teller' the remaining coins within her pouch.  The 'teller' had some paperwork for his mom to fill out, discussing regulations of non-wizard monetary transactions and whatnot.  After a few seconds, even Joe was bored of all this, but his mom was rapt with attention.  He suddenly remembered the scrap of whatever still inside the palm of his hand.  He risked a quick glance at it—something small, brown and wrinkly—before he casually stuffed it in his pants pocket.  Better to investigate what that was on his own than to ask someone.  No doubt he'd have to ditch it once he learned what it was, but who knows, it may be useful later.

  Suddenly, Joe's annoyance replaced the tiredness of the day. Maybe it was the exhaustion, but he couldn't keep quiet any longer; besides, this might be the only time he would have to talk to Professor Sinistra while his mother was preoccupied.

  "So what gives?"

  "I beg your pardon?" she answered absentmindedly.

  "You are looking at a woman who will cross the street to walk on the other side rather than risk a chance meeting with a strange man coming towards her.  And yet there she is, talking about banking regulations with—well, I don't know what with.  A goblin or an orc I suppose."

  “He’s a goblin," she interrupted.

  “Fine, whatever.  The point is, my mum should have yanked me out of this place the instant we walked through that archway, but she's acting like nothing is out of the ordinary.  What have you done to her?"  That last part he tersely whispered.

  "Oh, I haven't done anything."  He arched an eyebrow at her and started to say something, but she held up a hand to stall him.  "Honestly.  However, you are correct, she is being, shall we say, 'helped out with a potentially stressful situation’ as it were.  The archway through the Leaky Cauldron, it’s been enchanted to mask things from Muggles, help them cope with all of this.  I mean, do you honestly think that you're the first one with Muggle parents to walk through that door?  No, we decided long ago to pull the wool over their eyes as it were—that way they don't ask many questions or suddenly decide their child would better be served at Wheaton or whatnot."

  "So you admit you're deceiving folks for whatever end."

  "What?  Mercy, no!  It's just....look at the clerk there, what do you see?"  Joe looked at where she was pointing.

  "I see a goblin counting what looks to be golden coins.  He's now placing them within a leather pouch and giving the woman he's helping a slip of paper.  I presume it is some sort of receipt."

  "Exactly. Nothing sinister, just a normal banking transaction.  Now then, imagine what it would look like if say, your mother was asked to do the same thing, but without the enchantment.  No doubt, she'd probably scream something like, 'monster!' and try to run out or strike him or whatever.  Not good for business you know.  We have the same types of important errands to run just like your Muggle mum and we can't be distracted by soothing every single Muggle parent that comes through that archway.  Hence the Nepenthean charm."

  Joe thought about it for a second before responding.  "So all she'll ever see is what looks to be a normal street with normal people?"

  Sinistra smiled at that.  "First off we're already normal if you don't mind.  But essentially yes, what she sees is nothing more or less than what she would expect to see.  However, the more she interacts with the wizarding world, the more accustomed she comes to it, the more she will see of how things really are.  The charm is more of an acclimatizing spell than illusion."

  Joe paused before changing the subject. "Very well.  Why have I been selected for all of this to begin with?  I mean, I haven't seen anything I've done that I would call magic.  If anything, I'd say I'm the least magical person I've ever known."

  "Oh, I wouldn't say that.  I've seen quite a bit of magic use from you already.  Speaking of which, young wizards shouldn't practice magic outside of school."

  Joe frowned a little at this bizarre statement.  "And when was this exactly?"

  "Well, let's see, several times while we were talking in your flat, at least once while we were at Mr. Ollivander's, and just now, when you snookered Mr. Fargus.  What did you find in the bag, by the way?"

  "Dirt," he answered quickly, "What do you mean?  I didn't do anything magical during any of that time.  Well, Mr. Ollivander's hand looked a little different, but that might have only been the wand, not me."

  "And you don't think delving into people's minds, reading their emotions is magic?" she asked him skeptically.

  "That's nothing!  I'm just....well....guessing what they're thinking.  And if anyone was snookering someone, it was that Fargus."

  "And how do you know that?"

  "Oh come off it.  It was clear he was rooking you." Joe said exasperatedly.

  "And how do you know that?  I don't recall telling you what gloves or cloaks normally cost."  She studied her nails for a second before continuing.  "Highly unusual for someone so young to already have a knack for legilimancy.  No matter."

  Joe had no response for that last remark.  No doubt he would have to find out more, but he wasn't asking her about it.  Looking at her closely, for the first time since they started this whole adventure he couldn't decipher what she was thinking or feeling.

 She smiled at him, "You'll find not everyone so easily to read.  I've been a little lenient so far, but now is a good time for a lesson in manners.  Trying to delve into people's minds is considered rude."

  Suddenly he felt a sharp flash of annoyance and exasperation from her.  He quickly turned away, muttering an apology as he did.  He had meant to ask her about the wand but this diversion stopped any further questions.  He suddenly realized just how much he had opened up to her and immediately regretted doing so. Head down, don't attract attention, he reminded himself.

  Professor Sinistra broke the silence first.  "It is not wrong to have a curious mind, just be a little more considerate of other people's privacy.  Well now, it seems your mother is finished.  Time we got you home; I expect you have enough to keep you occupied for the time being.  If you think of anything else, you can contact me any time."

  He got up with her as his mom approached them.  "And how do we do that?"

  She looked a little confused, "By owl of course.  I'm sure I mentioned it before.  You should be able to hire one here in Diagon Alley if you need me."

  Joe did not quite understand how hiring an owl could get him in touch with her, but as she and Ms. Black were heading for the entrance, he figured it was something he could learn for himself.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

Train Rides and Flying Things

  The next few weeks were rather unsurprising considering that first meeting with Professor Sinistra.  Once they were done, they walked back to the flat where the professor bid farewell.  Both he and his mother sunk into the couch in the living room and talked a little about the whole day.  Sure enough, Ms Black seemed unfazed by their shopping spree, and even seemed a little excited that Joe would be attending what seemed to her to be private school somewhere up north.

  That night, Joe sorted through all his new belongings, cautiously touching each new item.  The wand stayed in his wooden box and the one new book—the one that snarled and tried to bite—stayed firmly tied up in the ropes that Professor Sinistra had magically conjured to restrain it.  He wasn't sure what use that book would have other than to unleash upon would-be attackers, but it was on his list of books, so it stayed.

  The other books were at least more accommodating.  Belatedly, he wished he had paid more attention to their selection when they were purchasing them, for sure enough, many of them were filled with the scribblings of past students.  Unfortunately, everything was written in ink otherwise he would have started that night erasing every last mark.  Still, they seemed very interesting if not a little confusing.  He resisted the strong urge to try out at least a few of the simple spells to see if they would work, and the only real reason why he didn’t break Professor Sinistra’s rule of ‘no magic’ was because he would have had to use the wand.

  The robes were at least normal.  He had expected something to be different about them, but no, they were just plain clothing, even if they were something he wouldn’t wear outside of his room.  He did stitch up the sleeve openings a little though—he soon found out that if he raised his arms a little too high, the sleeves would fall down his arms and that would not do.  As he thought about the sewing, Joe unconsciously covered his left arm with his right hand, and as he finally noticed what he was doing, he grimaced and forced himself to think of other things.

  Like the pack for instance.  That was a marvel of magic; if he never got anything else out of this adventure, he would be happy with just owning it.  When he had got back to his room after that day of shopping, the first thing he did was to spread a white bedsheet over his bed and then he furiously shook the bag over the sheet.  A few more of the suspect brownish items fell onto the sheet.  He quickly collected them all and placed them in small plastic sandwich bag along with the original.  Even after looking through all of his new books he had no idea exactly what these things were, but he didn’t really expect it to be that easy.  No, this was something that would take a little time and patience to figure out.  Hopefully it would be useful, perhaps even profitable.

  After he cleaned the pack of its former contents and did his best to wipe clean the inside (a useless attempt—he never could feel the inside), Joe began to pack his new acquisitions within.  After that, he began packing his clothing, one drawer at a time, then what hung in his closet.  Then he began to pack whatever he could find in his room—the various books on his shelves, the extra set of bedsheets in his closet, several towels from the bathroom, cans of food from the pantry, everything he could find that would fit through the opening. 

  Surprisingly, the pack never seemed to fill up.  What was more surprising, he could easily carry the satchel, the entire contents seeming to weigh no more than five kilograms.  He gave his mother her first shock of seeing something unreal when he dragged her into his room and then had her pull out every item he had placed inside.  At first, she was puzzled as to why she was even doing this, then surprised when it seemed that there was no end of the things that she produced, followed by giddy laughter as even more items littered his bedroom floor.  In the end, they spent the night trying to fill the marvelous pack with all of their belongings that could fit through the opening.  Aside from the large pieces of furniture, they managed to get everything inside.  Joe even started to take apart his bedside table before his mother told him it was best to leave it alone.  She laughed and suggested that only a woman would have made such a purse before she went to bed.  That statement made Joe a little embarrassed to consider taking it to school; what if students thought it was a woman’s purse?  After a little thought on the matter, Joe fashioned his one belt—an army surplus purchase—into a strap.  With that addition the bag looked more like a courier’s pouch from an old war.

  Still, there was only so much time one could be impressed by one dingy brown handbag.  Joe tried to his best to keep his old daily routine, but as the days wore on, he found himself straying more into the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley that lay beyond, and less at Mr. Wright’s store.  At first, he felt he might be hurting Mr. Wright’s feelings because he was doing less work for him, but when Joe told him that the fateful letter was a letter of acceptance for a private school, Mr. Wright was more overjoyed than he would have expected.  In fact, Mr. Wright seemed to be adding a little extra into Joe’s weekly pay even though he spent less time at the store.  He tried to protest, but Mr. Wright would just wave him away saying that private schools weren’t cheap to come by.  Joe felt a little humbled by this generosity at first, but it quickly evaporated as he strolled down the little lanes hidden behind the Leaky Cauldron.

  Now that he had no thought of buying school supplies (or if indeed all of this was some sort of scam), Joe took great pleasure in seeing all there was to see of this magical place.  He watched and listened as much as he could, studiously memorizing anything and everything that could be important.  For instance, not only does the average wizard fly on a broomstick, they actually had a sport that required it—something sort of a cross between European football and polo.  There was even a store dedicated to selling equipment for this game called Quidditch, and currently their storefront boasted a spectacular broomstick that even drew envious stares from someone as ignorant as him.

  Down one lane—called the uninspiring name of White Cobblestone Lane—he found what seemed to be part post office and part aviary.  Here, he understood Professor Sinistra’s cryptic remark of using an owl to contact her; apparently owls were used to send letters to one another.  At this insight, he regretted not following her advice to buy one for himself.  He hoped he would be able to send letters to his mum once he was at school.

  At one point during the middle of August, he began to notice a boy roughly his age started to hang outside the ice cream shop he had visited last month.  Every day, no matter what time Joe came to Diagon Alley, the same boy could be found sitting here, without a care in the world, sometimes reading a book, or talking to the store’s owner.  He suspected the boy was the owner’s son—the man was always plying him with ice cream or helping him with what looked to be summer homework.  Once, Joe even thought of trying to strike up a conversation with him, but he seemed so content in his solitude that Joe gave up on the notion.  No doubt, that boy would have no interest in talking to him.  It was the first time since he entered this new world that Joe felt sad about being so alone.  He walked home early that day, too depressed to do anything more than tidy the apartment while his mother worked late into the night.  Fortunately she got home long after he had gone to bed, so he wasn’t subjected to her intense desire to comfort him.  Occasionally he liked being mothered when he was feeling blue, but not today; he didn’t think she would understand.

  Fortunately the beginning of school was close at hand and he became too caught up with anticipation to feel too sorry for himself.  He had packed his bag at least four times before he finally forced himself to stop.  Every night, he would review everything he could in order to be ready for the day.  September 1^st, he told himself, he would travel to King’s Cross and there board the Hogwarts Express located at platform nine and three quarters, which would be leaving precisely at eleven o’clock.  Taking a train to a wizarding school—what was up with that?  Well, he would find out soon enough.  The platform number had given him pause to consider, but he had traveled already to King’s Cross to be sure it was there.  It was—sort of.  Located between the platforms of nine and ten was a dividing barrier, and as he discovered as he looked around, you just had to…not notice that the barrier was there as you walked towards it.  It was very disconcerting the first time he tried it, and his mother nearly screamed in fright when he managed to talk her into accompanying him on his second trip to the station.  Still, it did manage to do a good job of hiding right out in plain sight.

  Each night he would dream about what Hogwarts would be like, and each night he imagined himself being the star pupil, professors praising him for excellent work, while students either asked him for favors or just wanted to hang out with him.  A couple of nights he even dreamed he was flying on that racing broom he had seen at Diagon Alley, playing Quidditch even though he had no idea what the sport involved.

  Finally, the day arrived.  Joe had hardly slept that night, and despite that, woke up fairly early the next morning.  He helped his mother cook breakfast for the two of them.  She was fairly quiet during the whole task.  Usually she would be making small talk about what each of them were planning to do for that day, but not today.  Joe couldn’t decide he she was nervous or excited about the whole prospect, but figured it was probably a little of both.  He knew he was feeling the same way.  He spent the rest of the morning pacing the tiny apartment, sometimes picking at small pieces of lint he found on the sofa, or spot cleaning the kitchen table once more.  He knew he was probably driving his mum insane with the exercise, but he couldn’t help himself.  Finally, she stood up and said, “Well, Joe, I guess it’s about time.”

  All the anxiety that had bunched up all of his muscles suddenly fled from his body to be replaced with a mixture of joy and dread that made him a little weak in the knees.  Still, he calmly went into his room to retrieve his travelling bag (he finally decided to call it that to force himself from thinking it as being a purse) and waited in the living room as his mother gathered her coat and keys.

  They decided to walk to King’s Cross that morning.  It wasn’t close by, but it was a nice enough day for a change and both of them wanted to walk off some of the nervous energy.  Once they got there, Joe had to hold onto his mother’s arm as they purposely strode into the barrier between platforms nine and ten, and even then, Ms Black had to close her eyes beforehand.  Beyond was a new sight, a sparkling red steam engine boasting several passenger carriages waiting for the students to board.  Even with the long walk, they were apparently early.  Only a handful of families were standing on the platform, hugging children as they boarded the train, or else waving tearful goodbyes.  Joe hoped his mum wouldn’t behave like that.

  “Well, Joe, I guess this is it,” she looked at him, slightly tearing a little.  Apparently she was going to behave exactly like that.  “You write to me every week, okay?  Tell me everything, even if you think it’s boring.  Winter break isn’t too far off, you’ll see.”  At this she actually did begin to cry a little.

  “Okay mum,” was all he could say.

  “I’ll miss you very much!”  And with this, she caught him up in a fierce hug.  At first, he felt a little embarrassed by this show of emotion, but soon he could feel himself crying a little (but only just a little) and he hugged her as hard as he dared.

  “I’ll miss you too!” he mumbled.  Finally, they parted and he began to board the last carriage as she walked back to the barrier.  He laughed a little to himself, wondering how on earth she was going to manage to cross through it without him to hold onto, but somehow she did.  Once she was gone, he turned around and walked through the passageway to find a quiet compartment to sit.  The first one he came to had an occupant, a very disheveled man sleeping next to the window.  He quietly closed the door and walked further down the aisle, finally settling down inside one of the empty compartments.  He set his travelling bag underneath his seat and checked the station clock outside; it was a little after ten o’clock.  Sighing, he reached into his bag and pulled out Modern Magical History and began reading.  It was rather boring material, but he figured he should try his best to know what any wizard would know about this world.

  Fairly soon, as the train began to fill up with students, some of them would open the door to his compartment, see him sitting there, and apologize for interrupting him before closing the door and leaving.  At first, he paid it no mind, but after a while it reminded him just how alone he was in this wizard world and soon he began to wish someone would stay with him.  Finally, just before the train was due to leave he acquired his first mate.  He was a tall skinny boy roughly his age, and seemed a little uncomfortable with both his surroundings as well as with talking to strangers, but just having a living person in the compartment with him made Joe feel a little less lonely.  In an effort to appear a little more approachable, Joe put his book back in his travelling bag and pulled out some of the sweets he had packed to share.

  "Chocolate?" he offered.

  "What?  Oh, yes, thank you," the boy seemed grateful for the icebreaker.  "I take it this is your first year?"

  "Yes," was all Joe could think of in response.  About that time, something wriggled inside the boy's front pocket.  What in the world was he keeping there?

  As if sensing his unvoiced question, the boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a rather large frog.  "This is Trevor, my pet toad.  I wanted something a little more interesting, but my uncle got him for me.  He's quite useless really."  The boy actually seemed very apologetic for even owning the toad, although Joe could find no reason as to why.  Just as the train began to move in earnest, the compartment door opened admitting a red-headed girl.

  "Hi, Neville.  Would you mind if I sat in here?  The rest of the seats are taken."  She suddenly noticed Joe sitting opposite of the boy.  "Oh, sorry.  Didn't know you had company." and started to back out.

  "No, no!  It's fine.  I mean, I guess it's alright, isn't it?" Neville looked pointedly at Joe.  He nodded his assent.  First, no one, and now suddenly two students at once.  Joe was starting to feel less lonely and more nervous being around complete strangers.  In fact, it looked a little like these two might be a little more than friends, but he felt it was none of his business to figure out exactly what that meant.

  She dragged in a large steamer trunk which Neville helped store in the overhead, and then sat down next to Neville with a grateful plop.  She seemed to have just barely made it on the train before it pulled away.  "Thanks.  Ron kicked me out of his room, the lout.  Who's your friend?"

  "Oh! Uh, I don't know really," Neville looked a little bemused that he couldn't make a proper introduction, so Joe stepped in.

  "Hello.  My name is Joe Black."

  Both of them gasped a little at this remark.  Hesitantly, the girl asked, "You're not....related to.... you know, are you?"

  "Sirius Black?  No, not that I'm aware of." They seemed a little relieved at that response.  Impetuously, he added, "But then, my mother never really talked about her side of the family so, who knows.  It's possible I guess."  Yes, it was a little mean spirited, but he had a feeling he was going to be asked this question a lot in the future.  Maybe some vague answers in the beginning would dissuade folks from asking in the future.

  Neville seemed a little dunderstruck to say any more than, "Oh.  Wow."  The girl just looked at Neville and punched him in the arm.

  "He's just pulling our leg, Neville.  Nice to meet you.  I'm Ginny Weasly.  This is Neville Longbottom.  Where are you from, Joe?"

  "London."

  "Really?  Funny, you don't sound like a Londoner."

  "Oh, well I've only been living there for a couple of years.  I'm originally from the States."

  This statement seemed to break Neville out of his shell a little.  "Really?  I've always wanted to see what it was like in America.  Where from?"

  "A small town in Texas.  I doubt you would have heard of it." was all Joe could think to say.  He sincerely hoped Neville wouldn't badger him about the States.  He barely recalled living there, and never saw much of it when he did.

  Instead, Neville's eyes lit up.  "Really?  Oh that is so cool!   Were you ever attacked by Indians? Do you have one of those things that shoots stuff?  A rifled, or whatever?  I hear everyone in America has one and they have to in order to keep the Indians at bay!"

  Okay, this was definitely not what he had expected.  Before he could stop himself, he chuckled out loud.  "What?  No!"  Neville looked a little crestfallen.  "What I mean to say is, yes, there are some Indian tribes that live around various parts of the Southwest, but they pretty much keep to themselves.  I think there might have been one family that lived in town, but I only saw them in the grocery store every now and then.  My dad claimed he was part Indian, but....well, I really doubt that was the case.  As for rifles, no, I've never even seen one in person, much less own one.  My mother tore me a new one when she learned I had been playing with a friend's BB gun."

  Neville looked even more embarrassed than before.  "Oh."  That seemed to be his default answer for all occasions.

  Ginny seemed to take a little pity on Neville and kept the conversation going for his sake.  "So what is Texas like?"

  Joe settled back into his seat a little to get comfortable.  "Well, for starters, it's a fairly large state.  Bigger than England.  But that doesn't mean all that much.  Most of it is flat and dry.  Where I lived was pretty much a desert—very hot during most of the year, and not much rain."  He scratched his head a little as he thought back to all of this.  "You know, I never realized how glad I am that we moved to a big city that has lots of rain.  Don't miss the desert at all."

  Ginny grinned a little at this.  "So, when did you move to London?"

  "A little over two years ago.  I remember it was a few months before I turned twelve."

  "Twelve?  But that'd make you almost fourteen now," she retorted

  Uh-oh.  Joe wasn't sure how he was going to handle the age difference, but he had hoped it wouldn't come up until a little further in the year.  Still, no other way to deal with this other than meet it head on.  "Yes." He met her stare head on, wondering if she would laugh at him or make a snide remark.  What he felt from her was shock, embarrassment and worse, pity for him.  He turned away, thinking he might pick up his book again, and try his best to ignore them.

  For the first time, Neville seemed to have something to say on the subject.  "It's alright.  I mean, for the longest time my family thought I was a squib."  Joe had no idea what that mean, and decided the best response was to say nothing.  Neville grew a little pale when he realized what he had said.  "Not that I think you're a squib or anything.  I mean...just that..." and he gamely left the sentence die unfinished.  So what was a squib, Joe thought.  Sounded like a term for non-magical people, like Muggle, but was it slang or maybe an obscene term?  Joe didn't think so considering how nonchalantly Neville used it even though he thought he had insulted Joe by inferring he was one.  The awkward silence drew on.

  "I got lost in the mail," was all Joe could say in an effort to break the tension.  Both of them looked a little confused, so he added, "When I moved, my notice got lost in the mail.  Hogwarts just now found out about me."

  "But your mum—“ Ginny started to say.

  "She's never shown any talent.  Guess she figured I'd be like her."  Essentially that was true.  He just left out a bit of information about how neither had known about the wizarding world prior to last month.  "As for dad," he said, cutting off Ginny before she could say anything else, "well...I'd rather not talk about him."

  That remark seemed to make the growing silence even more unbearable.  Finally, Ginny got up and said that she was going to look for some of her girlfriends and left them with an insincere, "Well, Joe, it was nice meeting you."

  Joe wondered if Neville would also leave, perhaps too disgusted to share even this compartment with him.  However, upon looking back at the boy, he could sense that while Neville felt a little pity for him, he was more relieved that there might be someone like him that he could talk to.  Professor Sinistra had told him that it was rude to delve into the emotions of others, but really, what harm was it to know these things that people tried to hide?  Besides, he had no idea how to stop doing it.

  "I'm sorry about all of that," Neville quietly said.

  "It's alright.  To be honest, I'm still not sure I should be here."  Joe searched for a way to change the subject.  "So, what's your family like?"  They began to make small talk, trying to discern if they could salvage their new friendship.  Neville, it appeared, was raised by his grandmother—he too didn't like to talk much about his parents, something Joe could understand and respect.  He was a wealth of information though when it came to living in a wizard family.  Joe probably learned more in half an hour just talking to Neville than he had learned all month prowling the streets of Diagon Alley.  Little things, like being able to travel through fireplaces instead of relying on broomsticks, or how wizard children could expect to receive screaming letters from parents if they stepped out of line at school.  It was all fascinating.  Squibs, he soon learned, was a person born into a wizarding family that showed no magical aptitude.  Sort of the reverse of what he was—a wizard being born to a Muggle parent.

  Neville turned out to be a third year student and Ginny a second year.  Although he never mentioned it, Joe sensed that Neville rather fancied her, but could never screw up the nerve to say anything to her.  Apparently she was the younger sister of one of his friends—Ron, if Joe remembered correctly—so she occasionally hung out with him.  Neville also lamented the fact that he felt he was a tremendous letdown to his grandmother; everything he tried to do seemed to turn out wrong, school-wise.  Joe made agreeable noises when he thought it was appropriate, but didn't comment too much about this.  Really, what right did he have to judge Neville when he knew so little himself.  At this point, Joe mentioned the extra help Professor Sinistra said he would be getting in an effort to catch him up to speed.  Neville just stared in disbelief, and muttered something to the effect that Joe would most likely have no free time to do anything at all.

  About this time, it started to drizzle, raindrops catching on the window to slowly cloud the scenery outside.  It slowly darkened as well, illuminating the train compartment with a dull grey light that made them both dig out their cloaks to fight off the chill.  Neville eyed Joe's travel bag, and stated he wished he had something as nice as that.  Joe asked if all the other students carried their belongings in streamer trunks, noting that both Neville and Ginny had brought onboard rather large trunks which currently sat overhead.  Neville nodded in agreement saying that everyone he knew in his House (Gryffindor) used them.  Joe thought it was odd considering how much stuff each student had to bring with them and said as much, but Neville just shrugged and said that he grandmum wouldn't let him pack in such a bag.  "I've already got a bad habit of losing things as it is, no telling what I'd lose inside one of those."  Joe hadn't thought of that, but it did make sense.  Having something roughly the space of his flat hanging on his side with all of his belongings stuffed inside, he wondered if he'd find everything once he got to school.  It wasn't like he could crawl inside the thing with a torch and go looking for his socks if need be.  Still, no use worrying about it now.

  The afternoon rolled by, the raining getting even heavier and showing no signs of letting up.  Neville excused himself to find something from the lunch trolley while Joe stayed behind and fished out a bottled soda and the large sandwich Mr. Wright had fixed him the day before.  Suddenly seeing this largess made him feel homesick for the first time.  He never thought about the kindness and generosity Mr. Wright had shown him over the past year until just then, and he felt bad that he never really thanked him for all of it.  He resolved right then and there that he would try to make it up to Mr. Wright somehow, perhaps write to him as well as his mum.  Of course, Mr. Wright probably wouldn't like an owl in his store, Joe thought humorously. 

  Joe quickly finished his lunch and decided he would start those letters right then and there—nothing much, just a quick paragraph of the train ride so far, and that he had met (hopefully) a new friend.  Just as he finished the first letter, Neville walked back in carrying a couple of candies.  "Ya want a chocolate frog?"  Joe politely declined and put away his notebook and pen.  The lack of sleep from the previous night was catching up to him, so he lay sideways across two of the seats and covered up with the cloak. 

  "You okay?" Neville asked cautiously.

  "Yeah.  Just didn't get much sleep last night.  All the excitement I suppose.  I think I'm going to catch a nap if you don't mind."

  "Okay.  You mind if I go meet up with some friends, then?"

  "Go right ahead."  Strange that Neville thought he had to ask permission for something like that.  What did he think, that Joe wanted him to stay here and watch him sleep?  Joe drifted off to sleep before he could give it any more thought.

*          *          *

  Joe woke up some time later, a little logy from his nap.  Outside it was even darker and the rain was coming down in droves.  He wished he owned a watch.  Neville was no where around, so he got up and stretched a little before opening the door to look for a restroom.  Outside in the hallway, he could hear the muted conversations of the other students inside their compartments.  Although it was a little raucous, it was by no means the loud din he expected to hear from a bunch of kids free from adult supervision.  It was if the very rain itself had sucked up the spirited noise.  He passed by students wandering up and down the corridor, giving him wide berth due to his large size and unfamiliarity. 

  Halfway down the car, he heard a couple of small girls gossiping in loud whispers.  He would have paid them no mind, but one of them exclaimed, "I heard there's some stupid Yank on board.  Can you imagine, allowing one of them in Hogwarts?  I mean honestly."  She stopped when she saw him staring at them.  "Who are you?" she asked, barely hiding the disdain in her voice.

  "The Yank," he quietly replied as he walked by them, her ears and cheeks turning a bright shade of red.  Yet another aspect to worry about.  He didn't really consider himself an American anymore, but what would the rest of the school think?  He just scratched his head as he continued to walk, figuring it was no use worrying about things he couldn’t change.

  After washing up, he found himself once more alone back in the compartment.  Apparently Neville had decided to stay wherever he had gone, and that Ginny girl most likely would not return until they got to the station.  Joe stepped out once more and looked around, trying to see if he could find out when exactly they would arrive. He guessed it to be four or so, but it was hard to tell with the dark sky.  He settled for reading once more for no other reason than it was a good way to pass the time.

  After about a half hour of reading, the train began to slow down, and then came to a shuddering stop.  Just as he packed away One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, all of the lights abruptly turned off. Wondering what was going on, he opened the door and peered out into the dark hallway.  Apparently everyone else was at a loss as well; he could hear various voices questioning each other, the occasional flicker of light from a torch feebly trying to pierce the gloom.  A few students hesitantly walked down the hallway, calling out to friends.  Most likely something had happened, but Joe felt the best course of action was to simply stay put until the problem was solved.  He wished he had packed a torch like some of the others had, but he wasn't particularly afraid of the dark.

  A figure hesitantly walked through the doorway.  "Megan?  Do you know how to light a wand?"  It was a girl.

  "Sorry.  You have the wrong compartment," he said quietly.  "But it probably isn't wise to wander down the hallway in the dark.  Why don't you wait here until the lights come on."  He saw the dark figure shuffle in towards the benches and sat down opposite of him.

  "Thanks.  You know what's going on?" she said a little timidly.

  "No, but we'll probably find out soon enough.  When are we expected to arrive?"

  "I think in a half hour.  Maybe we should—what was that?" she exclaimed.  Outside the rain-shrouded window, a dark shadow drifted by.  The temperature dropped noticeably as it passed.

  "I don't know," he finally answered, peering through the window.  It was hard to see anything outside with the rain pouring down, but he thought he could see more shapes quietly moving towards the train.  "I think see people out there; it looks like they're boarding."

  "Do you think they're here to fix the train?"  She seemed unsure of her question, but then again, he didn't believe they were some sort of good Samaritan either.

  "I think we'd better stay put for now," he answered her.  He blindly felt his way to the compartment's door, attempting to close it.  Outside in the corridor, he could hear stifled gasps of alarm, and even a small shriek or two.  Just as Joe reached the door, he felt a presence standing just outside their compartment, something very cold and fearsome.  A darkened shape seemed to glide by, almost like a ghost, and it stopped just outside their door.

  Joe's mind was immediately flooded with his father's angry voice echoing all around him.  Despair seemed to fill his whole body, slowly forcing him to the ground.  Slowly, instinctively, he reached inside his travelling bag for anything he could possibly use as a weapon.  Immediately, something round like a pencil, but textured and dry, jumped into his clasping hand and a steadying warmth began to spread up from his hand and into his arm and body.

  "Back off," Joe said in a quiet, defiant voice.

  The creature, whatever it was, hesitated, possibly confused at the matter as much as he was.  Finally, it slunked back down the corridor towards the end of the train.  Joe watched as it tried to open the last compartment door.  Suddenly, a bright flame lit up that end of the train car, and Joe could hear a man's voice yell something at the phantasm. It stopped short, but once again it tried to enter the last compartment.  Immediately a blindingly white...something...shot out into the corridor, illuminating the figure so that Joe could see it clearly for the first time.

  It was something like a black, decaying corpse shrouded in a ratty cloak, but Joe could not see any feet or legs—it just seemed to hover inches above the ground.  The face (if it had one) was hidden deep inside its hood, but he glimpsed a diseased-stricken arm as it flew past his own door, being chased by the blinding light.  The sickening despair and coldness left almost at once, and Joe had to force himself to not fall down on his knees in relief.

  Joe suddenly found himself facing a gaunt man who peered a little too deeply into his eyes.

  "Are you alright?" the man asked, his worried concern etching his drawn face.  Joe could only nod mutely.  "Stay inside, and lock your door."  The man quickly shut the door before Joe could respond so he just numbly turned the lock and sat down.  He could hear the girl quietly trying to stifle her crying.  They sat there in silence for a few minutes until the lamps flickered back to life.  She was very pale from the whole experience, but no doubt so was he.  Her cheeks were a little puffy from crying and she tried to wipe her eyes with the sleeve of her robes.

  Joe reached once more into his travelling bag and pulled out one of his freshly pressed handkerchiefs and quietly handed it to her.  She hesitantly accepted it and dried herself off, trying to compose herself.  It was then that Joe noticed that it was the same girl that had called him a stupid Yank.  He turned to face the window to give her some small amount of privacy.  Idly, he realized he still held something in his hand and looking down, was surprised to see that he was holding onto the bone wand.  How did he pick that out of the bag?  He hastily stuffed it back into its box.  Several minutes of quiet sniffling passed when there was a sharp knock on the door.  Joe opened it to once again see the gaunt man standing before him.

  "Is everyone alright?" he asked once more, looking over to the small girl and then back at Joe.  She nodded slowly while Joe could only mutter, "Yes sir."  The man reached inside his threadbare cloak and produced a large bar of chocolate.  "I want the two of you to eat all of this.  It will make you feel better.  I need to check on the others.  Stay here until we reach the school, okay?"  They both nodded and he disappeared down the hallway.

  Joe sat back down in the seat, and paused to stare at the candy.  He wondered if this was the man's way of rewarding the 'brave little boy and girl' but felt he should do as he was told.  Nevertheless, it rankled him to be treated like some apron-clutching child.  He broke the bar in half and handed her share over as he bit into his own.  Almost immediately the remains of the cold depression that weighed him down melted away and he started to feel mostly normal again.  Must be some sort of magic chocolate, he mused.  He glanced back at the girl who was curled up in a tight ball, gamely clutching her share of the candy, but she had so far not eaten any.

  "Go on then.  It does make you feel better."  She slowly took a nibble, then another. Soon, she had polished off her portion almost as fast as he had.  Her color returned, and other than the tear-red eyes, she looked none worse for wear. 

  “Thanks,” she said quietly.  “You’d better change into your robes, I think we’re close to school.”  She then left Joe all to himself.

  Sure enough, no sooner had he dressed in one of his black robes, the train once more slowed to a gentle halt, and he could hear the general hub-bub of students as they began to disembark.  Neville made a momentary appearance to dig out his pointed hat.  “Just leave your bag here,” he told Joe, “It’ll be brought up to your room for you while we go to the feast.  Did you see that dementor?”

  “Big scary thing floating off the floor?  Yeah.” Joe gave a slight shudder.

  “Yeah, you can certainly say that.  Glad to see you’re okay.  One of my friends was attacked by it.”

  “Is he okay?”  Joe worried what exactly a dementor could do someone.

  “He’s fine, but it knocked him out before that man chased it away.  I have to go now, but I’ll try to meet up with up with you at the feast.  Hope you get in my house.” He quickly left while Joe debated whether he should leave his travelling bag.  Eventually, he figured everything would be safe, but at the last minute decided he would take the wand with him.  He still thought it was creepy, but for some reason, that made him feel a little more comfortable.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five

The Sorting Hat’s Mistake

Outside was a complete madhouse of students, animals, and pouring rain. Many of them made a frantic dash for awaiting carriages to get out of the freezing downpour and Joe started to head that way as well when he heard a gruff voice call out over the din. “Firs’ years this way!”

Joe actually stopped short in disbelief. The man who was gathering the first years was impossibly huge! Twice as tall and at least three times the width of any normal man, a massively huge mountain of a man stood carrying a lantern calling for the new students. “Firs’ years this way! All righ’, you three?” he yelled to a group of students as they ran for the carriages. They waved at him but didn’t stop to speak. The man turned back to his charges, “All righ’ everyone, follow me!” The large gathering of shivering wet students were forced to do as he said, for all the carriages had driven off by now. “Jus’ a bit longer, then you’ll be a’ Hogwarts! Come along! Firs’ years!”

They followed the man down a narrow winding path that eventually lead to what Joe thought might be a lake—it was so dark by now what with the late hour and the sheeting rain that all they could really see was the man’s swinging lantern. “All righ’ then! We’ll kip over in these here boats, no more than four to a boat! We’ll be there soon!” The man had to be mad, thinking that they could somehow row to some unknown destination in these conditions! Joe almost turned around to go back to the train—surely camping out there would be better than this.

Apparently a few other students had the same thought, but no sooner had they started to shuffle back the way they had come, the booming voice call out again, “You could go that way, but it’s longer and them dementors will be prowlin’ about soon! Bes’ come with me!” Grudgingly, folks began to fill the boats as best they could. Despite the chill that seeped down into his bones, Joe managed to clamber inside one of them and helped a few others inside as well.

Somewhere over towards his left, the voice boomed out once more. “Everyone in? Right then—FORWARD!!” The little boat began to swiftly move forward, catching one of the others offguard. Joe only barely managed to keep the person from falling into the water, but even then he couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl. Mercifully the water was smooth during their crossing despite the rain, otherwise he was sure more than one student would have fallen in the lake. He thought he could make out a large dark shape ahead, and sure enough, the loud voice called out, “Heads down!” Joe bent far down and for a brief moment felt wet tentacles tickled the back of his neck. One girl gave out a small shriek, but a boy in his boat reassured everyone, “It’s alright. I think that was vines or something.” One thing Joe was grateful for, apparently they had sailed into a tunnel which protected them from the rain. Sure enough, real burning torches—not the electric ones—began to light the way as the group continued to sail down this underground river. It eventually ended at a makeshift harbor where the man ordered everyone out of the boats. Many had trouble doing even that as they fought to control their shivering. All of them looked like a large mass of drowned rats.

They followed their guide up a flight of stone steps, down a barely lit passage and then back outside into the rain where they arrived at the school’s massive front door. “Everyone still wi’ me?” No one bothered to reply, so the man turned back to the door and hammered three times on its oaken front. It opened to reveal a small gnome-like creature.

“Professor McGon—Oh, sorry! Professor Flitwick, I have the firs’ years.”

“Come right in.” Professor Flitwick threw the door open so that everyone could hurriedly cross the threshold, “Nasty weather for sure. Thank you, Hagrid, I can take them from here. Come along students!”

The room just inside the entry was enormous, but Joe could hardly take notice of the place, feeling miserable from the rain and cold. They walked a few steps before the little man tut-tutted a little and said, “This won’t do, won’t do at all.” He pulled out a long thin wand and slowly waved it around. Instantly a warm gust of air began to blow all around them and Joe felt his clothing quickly dry as the heat warmed his hands and feet. Soon everyone was standing in warm dry clothing and feeling much better considering the ordeal they had just suffered.

Professor Flitwick herded them into a small room just off the main hallway and climbed up a small dais and cleared his throat. “Well then, is everyone feeling a little more comfortable? Good. It is my great pleasure to welcome all of you to Hogwarts. As you may have guessed, I am Professor Flitwick and I will be your teacher for Charms. We will shortly be having the start-of-term banquet, but before we do that, well, we’ve got to sort of you into your houses!” His eyes gleamed merrily at this statement, but Joe couldn’t see the reason why. A few of the students glanced around nervously at this statement and Joe wondered if they knew something he should be worried about.

“Now then, the sorting ceremony is very important because it decides which house you will be in and for the rest of your time here, and your house will be like a second family to you. You will have all of your classes with your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spent free time within its common room. It is a very good place to build new friendships.

“The four houses are called Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Each house has its own unique history and has produced some of the finest witches and wizards known. To add a little spirited competition, Hogwarts holds a yearly contest between houses to see who can win the House Cup at the end of the year. Each of you has the chance to earn points for your house by working hard and doing well in your studies. However, rule-breaking will lose you points, so try to keep the tomfoolery to a minimum please.” His eyes twinkled even more at this statement.

“Well now, the Sorting Ceremony will start shortly in the dining hall. I’d ask all you to straighten yourselves up a bit while you wait, but it appears I’ve already done it for you! Please wait right here while I go check to see if everyone’s ready!” He quickly walked out of the room.

One of the boys asked out loud, “I wonder what they’ll have us do?”

“My brother said we would have to take on a boggart!” a girl nervously announced.

“Don’t be stupid, where would they find fifty boggarts?” someone in the back exclaimed loudly.

Joe was fervently glad he brought his wand. Maybe there was some magical test they had to pass or something. Professor Sinistra hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort, but then there was a lot that she hadn’t said.

Shortly Professor Flitwick returned and motioned them back outside into main hallway and arranged them into a two rows. Joe felt a little out of place, towering over all the new students, but it couldn’t be helped. Once the professor was satisfied with their places, he marched them across the hall to a huge set of double doors which opened as he approached. Joe’s eyes boggled as he tried to take everything in all at once. If the main hallway was huge, this place was veritable cathedral. The whole volume of space was gently lit by the flames of hundreds—if not thousands—of candles that floated in midair. Four long tables stretched down the length where the older students sat and watched as the parade of first years stumbled by. Joe saw golden plates and goblets sitting empty before each student, their faces illuminated by reflected candlelight. Up ahead, another table ran crosswise to the four and held the school’s teachers. Joe noticed Professor Sinistra sitting next to the large man that had led them across the water.

The new students were lined up facing the entire school body, the teachers behind them. Looking out over the sea of faces, Joe saw white apparitions floating sedately through the crowded hall. “Are those ghosts?” someone whispered next to him. Above all of this, the night’s cloud-darkened sky threatened them all with torrential downpour that never reached them. More magic he supposed.

He noticed that Professor Flitwick had been busy while he stood gaping about. The small man had somehow positioned a sturdy three-legged stool in front of them and reverently placed upon it an old pointed wizard’s hat. It was shabby with age, threadbare and patched. Joe wondered amusingly if they had to pull a rabbit out of it and was slightly startled when a rip near the brim opened wide and began to sing:

(yeah, like I’m going to write a sorting song here.)

The entire hall burst with applause when the hat finished his—its—song. So, all they had to do was simply put on the hat and it would somehow tell them which house they belonged to, seemed simple enough. Still, he wished he could have done it without everyone watching; it went against his whole ideal of staying inconspicuous. Perhaps he could watch a few others try it on to see what exactly would happen—

“Joseph Black!” rang out Professor Flitwick’s voice.

Or perhaps not. Joe looked briefly out into the crowd and heard a few stifled gasps. This was not going as well as he had hoped. He steeled himself as best he could and calmly walked towards the stool as Professor Flitwick conjured himself a stepstool so that he could place the hat on Joe’s head. The professor smiled encouragingly at him as the hat settled on his head.

"Well now, what have we here," a small voice whispered in his ear. "Very keen mind, smart as a whip. Lots of ambition and determination as well." Was this thing reading his mind somehow? A surge of panic shot through him and fought the urge to rip the hat off and run. "Hmmm, seems to be a lot of fear as well, yet underneath a modicum of courage as well. Don't worry young Black, I'm only taking a peek inside that head of yours, and I never gossip. I'll take your secrets to the grave as it were. Now where were we.... Oh yes, where to put you. Hmmm, where do we put you? The first student always seems to be the hardest one." Was this thing actually asking him for advice?

"Well of course we can talk about choices, it's not like I'm going to force you into a house you don't want. Just think about what you want to say. So, where do we put you, young Black? I see you are a hard worker, and Hufflepuff wouldn't mind having you."

The first thought that sprang to him was, "I want to be somewhere I can be the most useful."

"The most useful, eh?" the small voice whispered, "Hmmm, an unusual request. I have just the job for you then. But I warn you, it may be quite difficult, lots of hard work but nothing you couldn't handle, I'm sure. You would find it even beneficial to you as well."

Sounded like a good fit for him. He wasn't adverse to hard work; he was sure his mum had it worse and he wanted to prove to everyone he could be as capable as anyone else.

"Well, if that's what you want then. Just remember that I did say it would be difficult, but honestly, I'm glad you're willing to give it a go." Above his head, the rip opened up once more and yelled, "Slytherin!"

There was a yell of voices from one of the tables followed by enthusiastic applause. Joe felt the hat being whisked away and stood up as Professor Flitwick motioned him to join his new house. As he walked down the center aisle, he noticed a fair number of the students sitting at the other tables openly glare at him. What was that all about?

As he sat down at the end of the Slytherin table, a couple of larger students stood up and thumped him on the back in congratulations, smirking as they did. A few even shook his hand, but everyone soon turned back to the sorting and ignored him for the rest of the ceremony. He was soon joined by Anatolio Creesus, a tall slender boy with raven dark hair. Kelly Crawford joined Hufflepuff.

"So, you a relative of Sirius Black?" asked Anatolio. He looked Joe over with a barely concealed disdainful sneer. Apparently he didn't think much of his clothes.

Joe decided to bluff a little. "Not sure. Mum never talked about her side of the family that much."

Anatolio's left nostril flared a little. "Don't you mean your father's side?"

"No, Black is my mother's name. I changed my last name two years ago."

"Why would you do that?" Anatolio sneered.

"If you knew my father, you wouldn't ask that." Anatolio's reply was cut short by the announcement of another student being congratulated for joining Gryffindor. Several students later, he and Creesus were joined by a sullen girl named Lyseria Edwards and then a doughy boy named Tobias Ingersoll. The two warily looked at him as they took their seats, neither of them looked interested in talking. Joe glanced around the other tables and saw the new students were interspersed among the older ones, making polite small talk as they waited for each sorting. The other tables seemed genuinely happy to receive their new students while Slytherin merely made the obligatory cheers then shunted them aside, barely tolerating any of them. Lyseria tried to whisper something to her neighbor and was quickly shushed. This group seemed to be a very serious crowd.

His growing group of first years was eventually joined by Icarus Falsolm, Adolphus MacNair, Adelie Mivens, Violet Parkinson, Gretchen Phelps, and finally Nicholas Wheedler. When the last girl was sorted (Ellen York, new member of Ravenclaw), the low murmur of the tables quieted down as an old heavily bearded wizard rose from his seat to address them all.

“Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by your excellent feast….”

"Who is he?" Lyseria whispered to her neighbor.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, you dunce!" the older girl whispered back, "Now quiet!"

“As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic Business.” He paused at this statement as folks began murmur amongst themselves. When the group quieted down, he resumed his speech.

“They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises—or even Invisibility Cloaks.” At this last bit, Joe would have sworn the headmaster looked directly at one Gryffindor student in particular, but couldn't see which one it was. He thought it was a red-headed boy near the middle of the table, but he didn't seem flustered at the comment, so Joe doubted it was him. Maybe the one with the unkempt hair and glasses.

“It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors.”

His group of first years looked slightly nervous and quickly glanced around, most likely expecting to see a dementor lurking in the dark recesses of the hall. All of them emanated a little shock of fear that made Joe's stomach quiver. He had to turn away from all of them before he lost his control.

“On a happier note, I am pleases to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year.”

“First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

A smattering of applause weakly greeted the new teacher. Joe clapped along with the few who did, and gained a few scowls from the older students in his house. Why were they always so hostile?

“As to our second new appointment, well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gameskeeping duties.”

At this announcement the table for Gryffindor erupted with shouts and thundering applause, while Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were somewhat subdued. Slytherin on the other hand was even more antagonistic than they were with Professor Lupin. Joe could even hear mutters of, "What were they thinking, letting that oaf be a teacher?" and "Dad has said this place was going to the dogs. I swear, I might as well go to a Muggle school."

“Well, I think that’s everything of importance,” said Dumbledore as the clamoring died down. “Let the feast begin!” As soon as he clapped his hands together, an amazing amount of food appeared on all the tables to much oohs and aahs all around. Joe had never seen so much food in his life and he had worked in a delicatessen. His stomach reminded him how hungry the day's ordeal had made him and for the first time in his life, he made a pig of himself. Everything tasted so good that he couldn't help but go for seconds. Apparently all the younger students around him felt the same way, for they too made an effort to sample everything within reach and rarely made the attempt to talk.

Just when he felt he couldn't eat another bite, all the plates immediately cleaned themselves of the dinner debris and the platters of remaining food vanished to be replaced with large bowls of chocolate pudding, ice cream of every flavor, and the occasional chocolate pie. Joe somehow found room slice of pie and was rewarded with a very satisfied warm feeling. He briefly wondered if Professor Lupin had a word with the kitchen.

The others had slowed down enough to start a conversation. It was little more than family name and business boasting. Apparently the Creesuses were involved in foreign trade, and to hear Anatolio tell it, were quite wealthy for it. Both of Gretchen Phelps’ parents worked for the Ministry of Magic—for the Minister himself, if you believed her—while Nicholas Wheedler merely said, "Oh, here and there, if you know what I mean." The rest were silent on the matter, Violet more interested in pointing out fashion faux pass she spotted at the girls seated at the other tables. "I mean, wearing that shade of lipstick with her skin tone, what was she thinking?" No one bothered to ask Joe what his family did, and for that he was grateful. He wasn't sure what these kids would think of him or his mother if he told the truth.

Soon after he had finished his dessert though, one them—Icarus Falsolm--brought up the other potentially touchy subject. "I heard on the train you're a Yank," he said with a slight touch of scorn.

Joe carefully put down his water goblet as he stared Icarus squarely in the eyes. "I was born there, however my mum is a Brit, so I'm considered to have dual citizenship. I've been living in London for the past couple of years."

Icarus seemed to weigh his words carefully before continuing. "I also heard you're supposed to be the son of Sirius Black."

At this, Joe chuckled before replying. "Then someone's been pulling your leg, mate. I know of no relationship with between me and Sirius Black. However as I told Anatolio here earlier, my mum doesn't talk much about her side of the family. I've taken my mum's maiden name, see."

He suddenly had all of the first years' attention. As he expected, he had hit a nerve with that statement, and he was hoping one of them would give him the opening he wanted.

It was Violet that asked in a shocked tone, "Why would you want to do that?"

Joe grinned slightly to himself as he weighed the risks of his gamble. He figured it was worth it if he could hit them hard enough that they would never open up this line of questioning again. He balled his left hand into a tight fist as he used his right to slowly push down his sleeve, revealing several large white scars dotting his forearm, the pressure of the fist making them stand out even more against his reddening forearm. "Because my dad is one right insufferable bastard." He grinned even broader as he watched their faces turn to shock, then horror. Even Anatolio blanched before turning away. He looked into each of there faces one by one and was satisfied with what he saw. Oh yes, that line of discussion was now definitely off limits.

"Now then, I believe we are all sufficiently stuffed to the gills," Dumbledore announced to the entire hall. "Bedtime! Off you trot!" There was a clatter of chairs being pushed away and then the shuffle of hundreds of feet as everyone got up at the same time and began to head to the main hall. One of the older Slytherin boys herded the first years together and force-marched them all down into the lower parts of the castle. Their leader was soon joined by an older girl and the pair of them led them through meandering corridors and tunnels until finally, they stopped the group in the middle of a moss covered hallway.

"Look up!" the boy ordered. They did so only to see more of the roughly hewn stone ceiling. "To the right is a carved "S" slightly hidden under lichen. In the event that you somehow get lost, and looking at the lot of you I don't doubt that for a minute, that will be your only landmark to find our residence—shouldn’t take you more than an hour to find it down here." The girl beside him snickered a little. "The current password," he continued, "is 'Nobility.' " A hole opened up in the stone wall revealing a lavishly furnished sitting room. They entered behind the pair and looked around. Although it was somewhat dark and dungeon-like, Joe found it quite comfortable with its high-backed chairs that faced a large stone fireplace, the green and silver tapestries breaking up the bare walls.

"The password changes frequently," their leader droned on, "so don't forget to check me or one of the other prefects each morning. If you forget the password, do not expect me or anyone else to tell you what it is. Last year, we had a couple of students sneak in here and steal some valuable items. They managed to fool a first year into believing they were Slytherin students who had forgotten the password and the fool obligingly let them in.

"Over here, we have our personal means of tracking house points." He pointed to a wall covered with a vast array of old analog dials finely detailed in green, gold, and silver. "No doubt Flitwick explained house points to you already. Here, we go a bit further. Each student's contribution towards winning the House Cup is recorded here, as is each blunder. Accumulate enough points, you'll be rewarded with better amenities and perks. Lose too many, and you suffer consequences. For instance," at once, the boy stared directly at Joe, which caused him to instinctively look down. "Black! I have it on good authority that you are a stinking foreigner who's been spreading lies that you're the son of Sirius Black, no doubt in an effort to boost your reputation! Frankly, I wonder how in Salazaar Slytherin's name did you ever manage to get into this great house. I can't change that, however I can make you wish you never got in here! Five points, for just being in my eyesight!" One of the dials' hands moved slightly counterclockwise.

Joe knew refuting the claim would only land him in more trouble, so he kept quiet.

"So, for being the first student ever to lose points before the start of classes, you now have the honor of keeping this lot in line. Any time one of them messes up, you'll also lose points and will be punished whenever one of them serves detention. Do you understand?" His tormentor slowly annunciated the last part as if talking to a slow child.

"Yes, sir," Joe quietly said, eyes still facing the ground.

"Do not 'yes, sir' me! I am not some stupid teacher that you can brown-nose your way out of trouble!"

Joe wasn't sure what he could safely say, so he remained quiet.

Seeing that Joe wasn't going to react, the older boy finally turned to the rest. "Now then. Bella, take the girls to their dormitory. You squibs, follow me." He led them down a flight of stairs that led to a dank, cell-like room that was cold and sparsely furnished. "Welcome to your new home away from home," he jeered.

"What?" exclaimed Anatolio. "I'm not sleeping here, Warrick! My house elf has better quarters! When I tell my—"

Warrick—apparently their bully's name—spun around to quickly face Anatolio down. "I don't care who your father is, squib! No one here does! If you want a better place to stay, then I suggest you earn it! You," he turned to face Joe now, "I expect this room to be quiet for the rest of the night. Lights out in five minutes." Warrick shoved a couple of the first years aside as he left the room.

"Nice, friendly sort, wouldn't you say?" Nicholas said to break up the silence.

Creesus was still livid. "I cannot believe the gall of him speaking to me that way! When I tell my father—"

"Wouldn't recommend that, Anatolio," Joe calmly said.

"Shut it, Black! I'm not going to put up with the likes of him, and I'm certainly not going to take orders from you!" he spat back.

"I'm not ordering you to do anything," Joe calmly went on. "I'm merely pointing out that he's got four or five years on you and a couple of stones to boot. Even if your father did put some pressure on him through his father, don't you think he'd retaliate in some way?" Anatolio stopped short. "Besides, wouldn't you rather fix this little problem yourself rather than having to rely on your father to do it for you? Warrick's just throwing his weight around because he can. Let it go for now."

Anatolio started to reply, but in the end turned around in a huff and started to unpack a trunk. Joe noticed that his own travelling bag sat on one of the beds. He opened it and began unpacking his belongings inside the small wardrobe and nightstand that sat next to the bed. "I recommend we unpack and get ready for bed. I imagine we'll have a long day tomorrow."

Once again, Anatolio started to retort but Joe stopped him with an upraised hand. "If Warrick told us lights out in five minutes, no doubt he has a means of enforcing it. I for one do not know how to light the globes up there," he pointed at the overhanging lamp, "and unless one of you do, it's going to get very dark in here in about four minutes."

Anatolio pouted for a little longer, but eventually began to sort his belongings like everyone else. No sooner had they gotten ready for bed, Warrick appeared once more, and looking at them in barely concealed contempt, doused the lights with a flick of his wand.

In the darkness, Joe began to review the awful events of the day. First, a dismal train ride ending with an encounter with a dementor, then the boat ride through the icy storm, all ending with being stuck in a house filled with the Bernards of the world. He was thinking that the Sorting Hat either had a sick sense of humor, or else was simply wrong thinking that he would ever consider this lot a second family.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of chattering teeth. "Who's shivering?" he quietly asked.

"Sorry. It's just so blasted cold down here!"

He thought it was Tobias, but couldn't be sure. Joe slowly got up and blindly felt his way over to him, carrying his bed's comforter. "Here. I was getting too warm anyway." spoke as he handed it over to the freezing boy. He somehow managed to find his way back and lay back down on the bare bed and went to sleep.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six

Class and Nobility

  The next morning, Joe's internal alarm woke him up despite the room being totally dark.  He was stiff from the cold, but it was nothing he hadn't encountered before, so he got up and stretched before quietly searching through the wardrobe for the day's clothes.  As he slowly dressed himself, the door opened and a shadowy figure pointed a wand at the ceiling and said "Lumos," which lit the room's chandelier.  The new boy glanced at Joe before turning to leave.  With that, Joe resolved to learn everyone's name; it was getting somewhat annoying to think of everyone he met as 'that boy' or 'that girl.'

  With the lights turned on, the others began to stir and began changing out of their pajamas.  Only Anatolio slept on. 

  "Come on, Creesus, don't want to be late our first day," Joe gently said.

   Anatolio grumbled and turned over.  "Yes, mother."

  The six of them trooped several minutes later to find the common room filled with various students chatting with one another, starting their day.  No one gave them a second glance.  An ornate clock on the mantle told Joe that it was 6:40.

  "Perhaps we should wait for the girls." he suggested.  Creesus snorted at the idea, but made no attempt to leave, so they sat by the points wall away from the other students.  So far, no dial showed any points except for his penalty of five.  It was some use though, with everyone's named listed underneath each dial, so Joe spent the time memorizing as many names as he could—faces would have to come later.

  Ten minutes passed before the first of the girls emerged from a stairway a little way down from their own dormitory.  Violet turned up her nose at the boys.  "What you doing here?"

  Anatolio answered before Joe could, "Mother, here wanted to wait for all of you.  Apparently none of us are capable of finding our way to the dining hall."

 Violet scowled at him, "I don't need a chaperone!"

  Joe ignored her indignation and asked, "Where's Lyseria?"

  Violet rolled her eyes.  "She's taking her sweet time getting ready."

  "Then we will wait for her," he sat down as he said this.

  Violet crossed her arms, "Look, Black, you are not my governess!  If I want to leave her here, I will do so.  Just because that lout," that part she whispered tersely to them, "said you were to play nursemaid to all of us, does not automatically give you the position to order us about!"

  Joe leaned back a little in his chair, sizing her up.  Violet's eyes briefly strayed to his left arm, but he didn't acknowledge that brief sign of weakness.  Instead, he calmly spoke to all of them.  "I do not plan to play the dictator here.  However, let's set the facts out in the open, shall we?  No one here has shown the least bit of desire to help us out.  Look at them."

  It was true.  As they looked about the common room, the older students went about their morning with little regard to the group of first years.  Some gazed at them with mild scorn, but for the most part, they were ignored.

  "We are going to have all of our classes together, but I doubt any of us know where they are.  We are going to have to stay together so that no one gets lost.  As a group, we're less likely to get into trouble.  Sure, in a week or two, when everyone has a good feel for the place, yes, we can go our separate ways and never speak to one another if that's what you want, but now, we need solidarity."

  Tobias looked a little puzzled, "What's solidarity?"

  Icarus grinned a little nastily, "He means, 'we should all hang together, for surely we will hang apart!'  Right, Yank?"

  Joe grinned back as he recognized the quote.  "Exactly."

  Violet still didn't look convinced, but she stayed.  "I'm not waiting any longer than five minutes though.  I'm starving!"

  Fortunately Lyseria showed up in four.  She looked a sleepy and peevish when she walked down the stairs, but when she saw them all sitting together her face lit up a little as she smiled.  "You waited for me!"

  Joe stood up and motioned her to take the lead, "Yes, we did.  However, everyone is hungry so tomorrow could you be a little more quicker in joining us?"  She stuck her tongue out at him, but didn't respond.

  Together, they trooped out into the dank corridor and did their best to find their way back to the great hall.  Joe felt they would have been hopelessly lost had it not been for Nicholas Wheedler—the boy seemed to have a nose for directions.  "Always know the way out of any building, eh?" he joked.

  They finally got to breakfast fifteen minutes later, where they were lavished with eggs of every variation, toast, marmalade, and even honey rolls.  Most of them drank something that smelled suspiciously of pumpkin, but Joe just stuck to water.  Once again, they were ignored by the rest of the Slytherins.  In fact, one sleek-blonde headed boy was talking about something to immense amusement of several others, but none of them tried to include their small group.  Just as a trio of Gryffindors (judging from the red trim of their robes) passed by, the boy made an exaggerated motion of swooning, and collapsed on the bench while the rest laughed loudly.  One of the Gryffindors just turned away from the group—must be bad blood there—but the girl whispered something in his ear as the red-headed boy just glowered at the fainter. 

  One of the Slytherin girls yelled out to them as they walked further away, "Hey Potter! Potter!  The Dementors are coming, Potter!  Woooooooo!"  This made the Slytherin group laugh even louder than before.

  "I've been meaning to ask, does anyone know any of other students in our house?  I don't want to have to call them, 'hey you' all year." Joe asked as he motioned with his water goblet.

  Violet rolled her eyes again, but obliged.  "That girl there is my older sister, Pansy.  Can't believe she's put a comb in her hair.  The boy she's helping up is her boyfriend, Draco Malfoy.  The two brutes are Crabb and Goyle, but I don't know which is who, and Pansy never told me their first names.  Honestly, who wears their hair that short anymore?"  Joe wondered if he was hearing all of this only because she wanted to give an ongoing fashion critique.

  "Let's see, Cecil Warrington is seated across Malfoy, he's on the Quidditch team; don't know who's beside him.  I think that is Marcus Flint over there, our team captain.  Ugh!  Judging from the way she dressed, that has to be Millicent Bulstrode.  Ooh, and that has to be Blaise Zabini, I can see why Pansy thought about going out with him.  The rest, I don't know."  The rest did their best to fill in the rest, but only added a few more names and faces.  Still, a good start for the first morning.

  Draco was still performing for his crowd of Slytherins.  Occasionally Joe could hear a few words such as 'dementors' and 'fainted.'  The one Gryffindor must be that one boy Neville said had been attacked.  Where was Neville, anyway?  Joe looked for the group of Gryffindors that had passed by and found them seated far down their own table, talking to themselves.  A pair of older students—twins—stopped by them to chat, and once looked over at Draco.  They didn't seem to hold Draco in much regard as well.

  What had Pansy called the one boy?  Potter.  Why did that sound so familiar?  He could have sworn he had heard the name before.  "Violet.  Do you know who that boy is over at the Gryffindor table?"

  "Why would I know a Gryffindor?  Oh, him," she loaded a lot of scorn on that one word.  "Good grief, Black, you've been living in a hole or something?  Oh course, judging by the way you dress, I wouldn't doubt it." she sniffed.

  "Stupid Yank, remember?"

  She rolled her eyes once more; that was apparently her favorite response to everything.  "That would be the ever so famous Harry Potter."

  Ah, now he remembered where he had heard the name!  The legendary Boy Who Lived, detailed in Modern Magical History.  Joe never realized he'd be going to school with someone famous.  "Oh really?" he could barely keep the sound of wonder out of his voice.  Both Lyseria and Tobias jerked their heads up at the sound of Potter's name and looked for him

  "Forget it.  What I hear, he's a stuck up git who has to be the center of attention.  For the past two years, he's managed to steal the House Cup away from us.  He thinks he's a hotshot Seeker in Quidditch as well, but he hasn't beaten us yet." She seemed proud of this fact as she glowered of the distant Potter boy.

  "And you know of this from your sister?" Joe asked as he studied the boy.  Light frame, nothing really outstanding at this distance, though it did seem folks liked to flock to him.  He was currently talking to a Hufflepuff who had passed by.

  "Yeah, she can't stand him.  He's constantly trying to get Draco in trouble, but Draco's smart enough to handle him."  Joe wondered if it wasn't the other way around, but kept the comment to himself.  He fixed his attention on Draco once more; the boy was well dressed and manicured, he practically reeked of money.  No doubt he was a 'Bernard' if he ever saw one; still, better to be on his good side for now.

  The girl from last night, Bella, stopped by their spot at the table and dropped a handful of papers in the middle of them.  "Here're your schedules, squibs.  Don't get lost.  Oh and Black, I'd certainly hate to be in your shoes—haven't even started class and you're already got detention." She smiled meanly as she handed him a rolled up piece of parchment.  He glanced at the writing on the outside and sure enough, it had his name on it.  He wasn't about to open it in front of these kids though, and stuffed it inside a pocket.

  They had four classes today, the first starting at eight which was only half an hour away.  They hurriedly finished their breakfast and made their way back to their dormitories—no one had thought to bring books.  Joe hesitated a second before piling all of his texts into the travelling bag; it was probably better than any book bag, so long as nothing went missing.  Still, he worried a little over what Neville had said about losing things in such a vast space.

  First class was Herbology which was shared with a group of Gryffindor students.  Neither group spoke to one another as Professor Sprout, a dumpy old witch in dirty robes, began to lecture about the importance of various plants and herbs that grew in the gardens.  The last half of the class was spent actually working in the greenhouses, to which Violet and Anatolio complained bitterly to the rest of them.  "I bet I'll have to spend an hour getting the grime out from under my nails!" Violet bemoaned to no one in particular.

  Next was History of Magic, which had to be by far the most boring class Joe had ever taken.  It was taught by an actual ghost and halfway through the lecture, Joe was sure Professor Binns had died from the sheer tedium of his own droning.

  Mercifully, Binns didn't assign any homework and they had a quiet lunch afterwards.  By now, everyone had grudgingly accepted Joe as their de facto leader and kept their complaints to a minimum as he made suggestions for finishing their Herbology homework later that afternoon.  While the rest sated themselves on dessert, Joe slipped out the roll of parchment, broke the wax seal, and read it.  Sure enough, it was a summons to a Professor Snape's office for detention later that night.  Hopefully it wouldn't take too long.

  Their first afternoon class was Care of Magical Creatures, a subject everyone openly griped about.  Joe wasn't the only one stymied by the biting book as everyone told one another in great detail the harrowing accounts they suffered.  They walked down to the little cottage that sat a little ways from a deep forest.  They were joined by a group of Hufflepuffs as they waited for Professor Hagrid.  Once more, the two groups kept to themselves, occasionally stealing furtive glances as they sized each other up.

  "I can't believe they made this stupid oaf a teacher," grumbled Anatolio.  "When my father hears of this—" but what his father would do was interrupted as Professor Hagrid strolled from behind the cottage, a little distracted in thought.  Joe couldn't take his eyes off the man; the sheer size of him was unbelievable.  In the daylight, he was even more wild looking, with a scraggily beard that hid most of his face and the unkempt hair that Joe swore housed a bird's nest or two.

  "Oh, right.  Firs’ year class," mumbled the professor, as it looked at all of them.  "I guess class has been canceled for today.  Yer free to go."  Canceled?  The students looked back and forth at each other, bemused expressions on their faced.

  "Uh, sir, why is class canceled?" one of the Hufflepuffs cautiously asked.

  "What?  Oh, uh, had a bit of trouble this afternoon. One of the hippogriffs got a little excited and I had to take one of the students to the nursing station," everyone's eyes bulged out at this bit, "Not that it's anything serious or whatnot, just a bit o' a scratch.  He'll be fine.  Still, Dumbledore, Professor Dumbledore that is, thought it best I hold off classes today.  Uh, if you'd like, you can read up about 'em in your textbooks, hippogriffs that is."  Hagrid stroked his beard nervously as he looked at all of them.

  Pretty much everyone was of the same mind; what sort of person would have them face hippogriffs for their first lesson?  The beasts were very wild and dangerous, even when calm.

  "Professor Hagrid," Joe interjected as the two groups started to disperse, "how do we open the books?  They're very uncooperative."  He held up his to show the length of rope still securely bound around it.

  "Oh, right.  Someone else mentioned having problems.  Ya jus' stroke the spine, see?  Settles 'em down.  I thought they'd—well, never mind.  We'll pick up day after tomorrow then."

  "Thank you." Joe said to the large man's departing back.  He walked back to the castle with the rest of them as everyone commented on the events.

  "Good grief, having students handle hippogriffs?  It's a wonder someone wasn't killed!"

  "I wonder who got hurt?"

  "I hope it isn't too serious.  I mean seriously, hippogriffs?"

  "Well, at least we have a couple of hours to ourselves."

  Joe's group soon learned what had happened while they relaxed in the common room.  Pansy Parkinson was making a dramatic show of herself, lamenting the terrible fate that befell her beloved Draco.  Or some such nonsense.  As best Joe could parse between her stellar performances, Hagrid had introduced the third year students to hippogriffs that morning.  Naturally, Harry Potter had to show off by riding one of the blasted animals and then somehow managed to prod the beast into attacking Draco.  Currently, he was upstairs in the hospital wing where he was hanging onto life by a bare thread, and the nasty healer wouldn't let Pansy stay with him.

  Joe couldn't take much more of the theatrics so he found a quiet study room and pulled out the monster book to see if he could actually open it with professor Hagrid's instruction.  Sure enough, the book shivered at the slightest touch of the spine and lay silent.  He cautiously undid the rope and flipped through the pages to find the chapter on hippogriffs.

  Despite the nasty demeanor it had shown before, it was actually a quite a good read.  Very informative with detailed illustrations that moved all on their own, Joe learned quite a lot about hippogriffs and other creatures in the hour that he studied.  More so, he probably figured out exactly what actually happened that morning.  Hippogriffs, the book said, were very proud and easily offended, prone to striking at the slightest insult.  No doubt Draco didn't take that bit of information seriously and annoyed the hippogriff.  However, did Professor Hagrid bother to mention that bit of information before allowing the students to get close to the animals?

  Their last class of the day was by far the most aggravating for Joe.  It was Charms with professor Flitwick.  This time a group of Ravenclaw students joined them.  Joe noticed almost instantly the little girl from the train ride.  She did glance at him when his group of Slytherins arrived, but thereafter refused to look at him.  However, she would occasionally whisper to a neighboring girl who would steal furtive looks at his direction instead. 

  That in itself was distracting enough, for he never had a girl pay that much attention to him before, even it was indirectly.  For the first time, he hoped the attention was amicable rather than hostile.  He looked back at the girl, realizing he didn't even know her name.  She was rather pretty in this light, and it annoyed him even more that they never exchanged names that night.

  "So, Mr. Black, would you like to show us how to produce the hovering charm?"  Flitwick asked from his perch atop some books.

  That was enough to break his train of thought about the girl.  He stood up; hands folded before him and stared at the floor.  "Sorry, sir.  My mind was wandering."

  "Yes, I gathered that.  However, if you can perform the hovering charm, I think we can overlook it this once.  Or, would you rather one of your other classmates try it first?" He slightly stressed the word 'classmates' and Joe knew he wasn't referring to his group of Slytherins.  His cheeks flushed slightly before he could regain his composure.

  "No sir, I will try."  He hadn't heard what professor Flitwick was telling the class, but he recalled reading about the hovering charm in his book.  Furiously, he racked his brain trying to remember what the key phrase was.

  He stared hard at the feather lying on his desk.  He was sure the first part was linked to the feather, Flitwick had mentioned something to that effect.  The last part had to do with levitation.  Finally he got it.  With a deft wave of his wand, he incanted, "Wingardium Leviosa." and then pointed at the feather.

  Nothing happened.

  Maybe he needed to be a little more force.  He cleared his throat and repeated the spell once more, "Wingardium Leviosa!"  The feather just sat there.  A few students even chuckled at this point.

  Professor Flitwick quieted them down and stated, "Mr. Black does have the correct wand movement and is enunciating perfectly, however, one should feel the sense of levity, the essence of flying, as you perform the charm.  Try one more time, Mr. Black." He made encouraging motions as he said this.

  Joe focused once more on the feather and tried to think out it would feel to fly.  However, no matter what he did, the feather just sat there, mocking him.

  "That was a good attempt, Mr. Black.  You'll get it soon enough.  Now then, I want all of you to follow the example that Mr. Black has shown us and try the charm on your own feather."  Someone near the back chuckled.  At this Flitwick smiled, "I want to impress upon you that it does take practice, but I expect all of you to get your feather to move somewhat.  I have faith in all of you.  I'll be circulating around to help you.  Begin."

  Joe only moved the feather once, but that was when he blew out a sigh of frustration.  To make matters worse, the Ravenclaw girl was the first one to get the feather to float a few feet over her desk.

  "Well done, Miss Stormcraft.  Five points for Ravenclaw." Flitwick said in congratulations.  Great, that could have been his five points to get him out of the hole, thought Joe.

  By the end of the lesson, everyone had managed to get the feather to float at least somewhat.  Everyone except Joe.  As they were leaving, Professor Flitwick called him over.  "Don't be discouraged, Joe.  You just need to relax your mind a little, that's all.  How about you come by my office tonight, say seven o'clock and we can try again?"

  "Thank you, sir," Joe mumbled.  He then remembered his detention, "Sir, I will need to be at Professor Snape's office by eight."

  "I understand.  Off you go then."

  Joe exited the classroom to find his fellow Slytherins standing outside in the hall, waiting for him.

  “Another detention?” Adelie casually remarked.

  “Extra lessons.  Apparently all of Hogwarts thinks I need assistance,” he said as he led them to their common room.  A few of them snickered unsympathetically.  It was somewhat embarrassing to know he was the only one who couldn’t do even this simple charm.  Tobias and Lyseria had no trouble—well, very little trouble—with it, and he had expected them to be the ones to have the most difficulty.  Maybe he was a squib after all.  Well, no, not a squib; he’d have to be born into a wizard family to be even that.  He was probably something even lower than that—a muggle.

  Joe immediately smashed that line of thinking down.  His mother was a muggle.  There was nothing bad about being one.  It was just that for one brief time, he felt maybe he was special.  Give it some time, his conscience whispered to him.

  They passed the rest of the afternoon finishing herbology and charms homework, Joe helping them with some of the research.  Several of them wanted to put it off to relax with a bit of fun, but soon learned that it went a lot faster when they worked as a team.  Joe could understand their thoughts though; it seemed like they were the only Slytherins who were busy doing homework.  The rest seemed content to play games of chess or cards.

  When dinner time finally arrived, Joe waved them off.  “You lot go, I don’t feel like eating.”  Instead, he studied more of the charms text, hoping he would find something that would help.  He only stopped ten minutes before he had to leave, feeling even less sure of himself than before.  As he passed by the points counters, he noticed that only he had managed to not earn any points.

  The next forty minutes were a waste of time.  Nothing would make that blasted feather move.  Flitwick said some words of encouragement and suggested that they meet three nights a week at the same time.  Finding professor Snape’s office took a little doing, seeing how no one seemed inclined to help him find the way.  In the end, he only just managed with the help of a passing ghost.  He knocked at the door promptly at eight.

  “Enter.”  He opened to the door to find what looked like a mad scientist’s laboratory.  Various jars and bottles containing the pickled remains of animals sat on every flat surface and over in a corner, a cauldron sat bubbling over a low fire.  The professor rose from his chair behind his desk and pointed Joe to a desk.

  “So, off to a promising start from what I hear.”  His words were slowly drawn out, but the sarcasm was obvious.  Joe just stood by the desk and stared at the floor.  “In addition, I was just informed by Professor Flitwick that you will require remedial tutoring three nights a week.  No doubt you will be just as capable in potions tomorrow.”

  The hairs on the back of Joe’s neck prickled.  Professor Snape walked around his desk and began a slow pace in front of him.  “Interestingly enough, I’ve also informed by Professor Sinistra that you have a talent for legilimens. Not that I would ever doubt her assessment, however I would like to see that for myself.  Look at me when I’m talking to you, Black!”

  Joe jerked his head up to peer into the professor’s black eyes.  Snape was a tall thin man with greasy black hair, large hooked nose, and jaundiced color skin.  But none of that would occur to him until much later because right now, Joe was hit with a large wave of black hatred.  Briefly he panicked and had to fight hard to not run out of the room.  He blinked once and disciplined himself to remain calm, to not react.  Reactions drew attention, usually of the unwanted kind.

  Snape turned away after a few moments and snorted.  “Well, it seems you can sense emotions, but any half-wit could do the same just by looking at facial expressions.  Let’s try again.  Look at me and try to derive what I’m thinking.”  Once more, professor Snape stared squarely into his eyes.  Joe was again washed with hostile emotions but this time he was better prepared for it and he let it surge past him as he stood as passive as he could.  What did professor Snape want?  He peered as deeply as he could into the man’s eyes, trying to spot something, anything that would be helpful.  He briefly saw a flash of a man’s face, perhaps a memory or something.  Joe didn’t think he recognized him.  The image was quickly replaced with a picture of Headmaster Dumbledore; he was saying something, but Joe couldn’t follow.  Instead, he felt a stab of annoyance that was not linked to the previous animosity he felt before.

  “Enough.”  The turmoil in Joe’s head suddenly stopped once more as Snape broke contact again.  He slowly strode once more behind his desk and sat down.  “Sit.”  Joe sat down.

  Professor Snape laced his fingers together as he studied Joe; this time he felt nothing from the man.  Silence stretched on for several minutes before Snape finally said anything.  “You are undisciplined in your technique, and sorely lacking in restraint.  Clearly you have no training whatsoever, as you show the ineptitude of a lack-wit.”  Snape paused in the middle of his insults.  “However, you do show a little more talent than the average first year student.  All that means is you’ll be adept at performing parlor tricks of E.S.P. and winning the occasional game of poker.”  He leaned back in his chair, never taking his eyes off of Joe.

  “It is remotely possible that you may become at least capable of handling what meager talent you may possess, however it will require lots of study and practice.  Time I am loathe to waste on someone who does not take this effort seriously.  Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.  I promise to work extra hard so that this will not be a waste of your time, sir.”

  Snape eyed him for a second longer before going on, “Since you are already engaged with Professor Flitwick three nights a week, you will come here afterwards.  If you do not show any progress within the first week, I will end your tutoring.  As I did not expect you to have any promise to learn legilimancy or its opposite, occlumancy, I have not prepared a lesson plan.  Therefore, we will continue night after tomorrow.  Dismissed.” 

  Joe stood up as Professor Snape turned back to reading paperwork on his desk.  He hesitated a bit, unsure that he should say anything else, but Snape seemed to be pointedly ignoring him, so he left, quietly shutting the door behind him.

  When he arrived back in the common room, he didn’t see any of the first years waiting for him.  He thought about going on to bed, but wanting to finish he letter to his mother, he instead found an empty study room and began to write an edited version of the day’s events.  He finished with instructions to his mother on how she could send him a letter back.

  That done, he decided to read more on charms to see if there was anything else that might help him perform the hovering charm.  Next, he practice trying to levitate a scrap piece of paper, but after fifteen minutes of no success, he gave up.  In frustration, he got up and paced a bit to walk off the nervous feeling that settled in his stomach.  He looked around for a clock, but there was none in the room.  Again, he wished he had bought a cheap watch before he came to school.  It was one of the small things that he had taken for granted throughout his life, and to find a place that rarely had public clocks was a little maddening.

  He assumed it was fairly late, but he didn’t feel tired.  Instead, he was regretting not eating dinner, but since he didn’t know where he could find the kitchen, there was not much he could do about it.  So rather than go to bed, he decided to study a little in tomorrow’s subjects.  Joe read for hours until he heard a small sound low to the ground.  He quietly looked around wondering what else there would be in the castle to surprise him.

  He wasn’t disappointed.  A little knobby man with large eyes came into view, apparently unaware that Joe was watching him.  He wore what looked to be a small hand towel as a makeshift toga, and was using an old peacock feather as a duster.  He certainly was happy as he worked, humming a little tune to himself.  Joe wondered how or even if he should introduce himself.  He figured subtly would probably be best and quietly cleared his throat.

  “Oh!  Sorry, master, I didn’t know anyone was in here,” the little man said as he bowed low to the ground.  His voice was high pitched and a little squeaky.  “I’ll be beggin’ your pardon and leave you in peace.”

  “Not a problem, sir.  I was about to go to bed.  I’m Joseph Black,” he said introducing himself.

  “Oh!  Young master introduced himself!  Such an honor, an honor indeed!”  The little man drew himself upright and held the feather like a makeshift hat before him.  “I’m Nobby, master, at your service!”

  “Pleased to meet you, Nobby.  I hope I’m not being rude, but what sort of creature are you?”

  Nobby stood up even straighter if it was possible.  “I’m a house elf, master.  I help keep the castle in order, straightening up, dusting, laundry, and the like.”  He seemed very proud of this fact.

  “Surely not all by yourself.  This place is enormous.”

  Nobby laughed, “It is indeed, young master.  No, I am not the only elf here.  Hogwarts employs hundreds I expect.  I am merely one of the few that cleans the rooms of Slytherin house.”

  “Really?” Joe was intrigued to know that there was a staff of hundreds keeping the school in order.  “You’re the first house elf I’ve seen.”

  Nobby gave a little laugh, “Not surprising, young master.  Elves pride themselves on not being seen.  In fact, I would be most grateful if you didn’t mention seeing me to anyone.” He grinned a little nervously up at Joe.

  “Please, call me Joe.  That whole ‘master’ bit makes me uncomfortable.  I won’t tell a soul then.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that, young master! It would be unseemly like.  Well, young master, unless you be needin' my service, I shall go elsewhere to clean.”  As the elf turned to leave, Joe had an idea.

  “Nobby, before you go, may I ask you a question?  Is there any way I could get something to eat; I missed my dinner tonight.”

  Nobby beamed at him, “Certainly, young master!  I’ll be back in a moment!”  He snapped his fingers and immediately disappeared.  Before Joe could wonder how accomplished that trick, Nobby was back laden with a platter of sliced beef, cheese, bread, and tall glass of water.  There was even a treacle tart for dessert.  Nobby placed the platter on the desk in front of Joe and whipped up a napkin seemingly out of nowhere, which he placed on Joe’s lap.

  “Thank you, Nobby.  I don’t know how I can repay you, but if you think of a way let me know,” Joe said as he began building a sandwich.  He was surprised when Nobby frowned at him.

  “House elves do not take payment, young master!”

  At first, Joe thought the elf was joking with him, but he soon realized that Nobby was quite serious about the matter.  “I’m sorry.  I meant no insult, I just meant if there was ever a time I could do you a favor, please let me know.” 

  Nobby seemed visibly relieved, “No disrespect taken, young master.  I just misunderstood; my fault entirely.  If you not be wantin’ anything else then,” and once more he turned to leave.

Joe thought for a second before responding.  “If it would help you out with your duties, I don’t mind if you clean while I eat.  I’d prefer some company in fact.”

  Nobby hesitated to weigh his decision.  “Normally I would say no, but you’ve already seen me so it seems a little pointless.  In fact, I’ve cleaned just about every other room so it would help out a bit if I could finish in here.  Consider your favor repaid then, young master.”  He resumed his dusting of the chairs and desks, humming as he did.

  Joe finished his sandwich as he watched the little man go about his business.  “Would it bother you if we talked while you worked, Nobby?”

  “If young master wishes to converse,” Nobby said simply.

  “If you don’t mind.  I’ve just never heard of house elves and was curious.  Do all wizards have one?”

  “Only the most notable ones, young master.  We prefer to work in large houses and castles.  Service to nobility as it were.”

  “And all of you work as servants then?”

  “Of course, young master.  Where there’s work, there’s a house elf.”  Apparently that cleared up the question well enough for Nobby.

   Joe munched a little on the treacle tart before he chose another tack. “You just said something about elves not taking payment.  Does that mean that you work here for nothing then?”

  Nobby scowled a little at him again, “A job well done is payment enough, young master.”  He turned back to his work.

  “Sorry, no offense.” Joe thought a second before continuing, “So, how does a wizard go about showing appreciation for a job well done then?”

  “Oh.  The occasional good word is rewarding.  Maybe a tasty treat or such.”  He smiled a Joe as he said, “Headmaster Dumbledore gives us muggle sweets every now and then.  They’re my favorite!”

  “And when a wizard is displeased? Does he punish you, or is he resigned to having elves do as they please?”

  Nobby stopped cleaning as he looked at Joe to answer.  “Oh yes, young master, the worst a master can do is present clothes.”

  Now he was thoroughly confused.  “Clothing?”

  “Yes, young master.  When an elf is presented clothes, he is dismissed from his home.  It’s the mark of an elf in disgrace, young master.”  Nobby shuddered a little and resumed cleaning.

  Suddenly Joe remembered a fairy tale from long ago, about a shoemaker who was visited by elves.  In the end, the shoemaker and his wife gave the elves clothing as a reward for all the hard work they did, and the elves left.  No doubt that story was a distorted view of house elves.  Or perhaps the shoemaker was upset with the quality of work and banished the elves for poor performance, but somewhere along the way, the story was changed to contain a happier ending.  Joe let out a large yawn as he pondered the connection between the muggle world and the wizarding world. 

  “Well, I guess I had better go to bed.  You have been a wealth of information, Nobby; I hope to see you again.”  As he began to leave the room, he recalled something, and reached inside his travelling bag to see if it was still there.  As if by magic, the item in question seemed to leap into his hand the moment he reached in the bag.  “Would you like a piece of muggle gum?” he said, handing out the silver-wrapped stick.

  Nobby’s smile practically split his face in two.  “Oh thank you, young master!”

  Joe walked through the quiet common room and down stairs to his dark dormitory.  As he expected, Tobias had apparently thought his loan of the blanket was a permanent one, and Joe briefly thought of going back to the study to ask Nobby for a spare.  However, he felt more tired than cold, so he changed into his pajamas a silently as he could and went to bed.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

A Very Fine Line

  The next morning started out much like before; Joe got up before the lights were turned on, stretched and changed clothes in the dark.  Grabbing his bag, he felt his way to the door and went up to the common room.  Not many students were awake at this hour, so he had the fireplace to himself, grateful to warm his cold limbs.

  Today was a slightly easier schedule; just three classes, the first starting at nine.  Most likely the others would sleep in late, but that didn't bother him much.  He checked their schedules.  First up was Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Lupin followed by Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, then finally double potions with Professor Snape.  Lupin he briefly met on the train, and seemed a likeable sort, Snape he already figured to be a hard case.  McGonagall was an unknown though.  He thought he had heard she was the head of Gryffindor, and had a good idea how Gryffindor and Slytherin got along (which meant, 'like cats and dogs') but he hoped she wouldn't be partial to only her house students.  He sighed as he figured most likely he would have extra classes tonight to sort out whatever problems he had in today's classes.  How long would the teachers give him extra help before they gave up and he was sent away?

  Idly, he walked over to the points board and reviewed the tally.  Creesus and Falsolm already had fifteen points apiece, while Parkinson and Mivens each had ten.  The rest had various smaller numbers, even Ingersoll somehow managed to earn a point.  He was about to leave without checking his own tally, when he saw something that caught his eye—his points counter was back to zero.  Zero?  How did that happen?  For the life of him, he couldn't remember a time when a professor or prefect said, "Nice job, Black, five points for Slytherin."  Surely it was a mistake.  He tapped the glass protecting the dial, but the needle stayed firmly where it sat.  Well, mistake or not, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, not with his luck.

  One of the girls came down the stairs, Lyseria surprisingly enough.  She looked around and seemed annoyed that only Joe was down here.

  "I got up earlier like you said!  Where is everyone?  I'm hungry!'" she pouted.

  "I expect everyone decided to sleep in a little since our first class is at nine.  Perhaps we should set up a time for everyone to meet for breakfast from now on.  Was any of the girls awake when you got up?"

  She shook her head.  "I thought about yelling at them to wake up, but Violet always yells at me when try to talk to her."

  "Well, it looks like we have some time on our hands then.  Would you like to play a game of cards?"  Instantly, her face lit up at the prospect.  "I left my deck in my wardrobe.  Warm up by the fire here and I'll be back shortly."  Joe quickly went back into the dark dormitory and blindly fetched his deck of cards out of a drawer.  When he got back, Lyseria was waiting for him with two chairs and a small table pulled up next to the hearth.

  They decided to play Snap, which seemed to be Lyseria's favorite even though Joe thought it was a bit childish to play.  A few minutes into the game, Lyseria frowned at him.  "How come the cards don't explode?"

  "I beg pardon?"

  "The cards, none of them have exploded yet when we fight for 'em." 

  Exploding cards?  Something else he needed to learn about.  "It's a cheap, old deck," he lied, "the spell wore out a few years back and I never thought to replace them."

  Lyseria studied one of the cards in her hand and cautiously smacked it down hard on the table.  "I think I like these better," she smiled.  "It scares me a little when they explode."

  "Well then, when we're done, consider them a gift."

  Once again, her eyes lit up as she smiled, "Really?"

  "Sure.  Like I said, I should have bought a new deck years ago.  If you like them, then they're yours."  Joe cursed a little as he mentally calculated how much money he had brought.  It wasn't much, even if he didn't know the value of a sickle compared to a pound.  Most likely a magic set of cards wouldn't be too much, but he couldn't afford to fritter it away on frivolous things.

  Still, the look on Lyseria's face was worth it.  Most likely the girl was rarely shown any kindness and it was a pity.  She was a pretty little thing when she wasn't pouting.  Besides, he reflected, being rid of a muggle item like a deck of cards was probably a good thing, especially so in this house.

  They played for a half hour or so, Joe being considerate enough to allow Lyseria to just beat him to the snap.  The rest of the girls showed up just as they started their fifth hand.

  "There you are!" exclaimed Adelie.  "We figured you lost somehow in the middle of the night."

  Lyseria started to pout again before Joe answered for her, "We both just got up early.  Played some cards while you sleepyheads had a lay about."  That seemed to stop her from getting her feelings hurt while the others weren't put out by his remarks.  He shuffled the cards once more, before handing the deck to Lyseria.  Soon afterwards, the boys joined them and they all marched outside to have breakfast.  It was a little easier this time, but they still got turned around a few times.

  "We'd need a kneazle to find our way around this place," Adolphus exclaimed after the third wrong turn.

  "What we need is a map," countered Joe.

  MacNair laughed nastily.  "Only the stairs, the halls, and sometimes even the rooms move around a bit."

  "Well then, we need a map that moved around as well," Joe rhetorically answered back.  The thought actually made him stop short, causing a few of them in the back to run into him.  "I wonder how you'd go about doing that?"

  "Do what?" asked Icarus as he yawned.

  "Make a map in such a way that all the drawn out bits represented the castle exactly, no matter how much it moved."

  "I dunno.  Ask a teacher if you want, but I think it's a stupid idea.  I think we're down one hall too many, let's cut through here."

  "I think it's a great idea," Lyseria chimed in.

  "Ooohh!" Violet muttered, "I think Joseph Black has a girlfriend!"  The rest laughed except for Joe and Lyseria.

  "Well, I was pining for you, Violet, but when you spurned me too many times, I went looking elsewhere." Joe retorted.  Everyone had a good laugh a Violet's rolled her eyes at him.  Lyseria looked a little confused and hurt.  Joe leaned down to her and whispered in her ear, "It was a joke at Violet's expense, Ly."

  They finally made it to breakfast with lots of time to spare.  When Joe finished, he pulled out his letter to his mother and checked to see if he left anything out.  Just as he was doing so, several owls flew into the room, carrying various letters and packages to their owners.  One landed next to Anatolio who received a box of freshly baked cookies.

  "Anyone know where I'd go to borrow an owl?"  Everyone shook their heads. "Well, I guess I have time to find out. See you at Defense Against Dark Arts class."

  "Yes, mother," Anatolio muttered as he left.  Joe figured it had to be somewhere outside, but once out, had no clue where to go. Finally in desperation, he walked down the little cottage at the edge of the woods and knocked.  Seconds later, Professor Hagrid opened the door, holding what looked like a dead weasel.

  "Excuse me, professor, but I wanted to mail a letter to me mum, but I don't know where the owlery is."

  "Oh!  Uh, jus' around those front stairs, and take the left stair up that tower there, owlery's at the top."

  Joe thanked him and started to leave, but realized this would probably be the only time he could speak to the large man alone.  "Professor, will we have a chance to see the hippogriffs later?  I read up on them like you said and they sound amazing."

  "Wha?  Oh!  Right, Care of Magical Creatures class.  Sorry, I'm a bi' distracted righ' now.  Uh, Professor Dumbledore said I should probably start wi' somethin' a little more quiet-like."

  "Oh.  Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then.  Thanks."  Joe followed Hagrid's instructions and sure enough, atop the left tower was a huge roost of owls.  Unfortunately, he had no clue as to what he was supposed to do, shame he didn't ask Hagrid before.  Still, it was a magical school, perhaps he should just do the obvious.

  "Excuse me, I would like to mail a letter to me mum."  He felt a little foolish saying it out loud, but sure enough, one tawny owl finally flew down to a perch located near him.  So far so good.  "Uh, this is to Ms. Imogene Black—ouch!"  The owl nipped him on the finger.  "What was that for?" Instead of answering him, the owl just glared at him, then bent down to look at the letter.  Okay then, apparently owls could also read, and not only that, took great offense at anyone who thought otherwise.

  "Now what?"  In response, the owl opened its beak and snatching the letter out of his hand, flew off.  If he didn't know better, Joe would have sworn even the owls were dead set against the house of Slytherin.

  Joe found his way to Defense Against the Dark Arts with minutes to spare.  The rest of the Slytherins were already there, chatting quietly amongst themselves which ended as soon as he walked in.  He started to ask what was wrong but Professor Lupin walked in and asked everyone to settle down.

  "Well now, normally I would start off with some basic material from the book, but in light of the fact that we have a new security around the castle, I felt it better to start with dementors.

  "So tell me, what exactly is a dementor?  Anyone?"  Joe looked around and saw no one raise a hand.  "Mr. Black, would you like to give it a go?"  Reluctantly, he stood up with his hands folded before him.

  "Sir, a dementor is the embodiment of depression and despair.  It lives by draining the positive emotions from its victim, which will eventually drive the person insane.  If allowed to do so, it will consume the victim's soul, leaving behind an empty but living shell of a body, closely resembling a person suffering from catatonia." He immediately sat down after answering.

  "Excellent summation.  Five points, Mr. Black.  Do you by chance know how defend against a dementor attack?"

  Joe stood up once more.  "No sir, I couldn't find anything in the text."  He hesitated before going on, "But I do recall seeing you drive one off with a silvery flash of light."

  Professor Lupin smiled a little.  "Fairly accurate description.  Dementors can be driven off with happiness."  Joe looked askance at this answer.  Lupin smiled a little more and began to walk around the room as he warmed up to the lecture, "I know it sounds silly, but it's true.  Dementors thrive by filling its victim with hopelessness.  Thus, a person who can maintain positive emotions, as Mr. Black puts it, can withstand its attack long enough to prepare a defense.  This is one of the reasons why chocolate is such a wonderful antidote for people who have been attacked by a dementor.  I mean, who doesn't love chocolate?   I want you to open your books to page 132 where we will find the dementor in all his dreaded glory."

  They spent the next hour discussing various aspects of dementors, what created them, what destroyed them, and proper defenses against them.  It was all just as fascinating as reading about hippogriffs.  Truly disgusting creatures, but fascinating nonetheless.  The spell Professor Lupin had used turned out to be a charm called a Patronus.  Essentially, the caster summoned up all the happy thoughts he had and then turned them into a physical manifestation of white light.  Professor Lupin even conjured one to the delight of everyone.  It was an odd-shaped animal created out of white light that bounded around the classroom before disapating.

 "I would love to teach everyone one of you how to perform the Patronus Charm, however, it is a very difficult charm to cast; many adults can't.  If I am your teacher when you reach your fifth year, perhaps we will try it then."  Professor took break in talking to look at his watch, "As it is now, we've run a few minutes over.  Mr. Black, a word if I may."

  Joe waited for the rest to file out before approaching Professor Lupin's desk.

  "What do you think of dementors?"

  "Something I would not like to meet again."

  Lupin smiled.  "They are very dangerous, very unpredictable creatures." He then looked at Joe very serious.  "That is why I want to impress upon you just how foolhardy it was for you to confront one on the train."

  Joe was flabbergasted.  "Sir?"

    "I’ve had the pleasure of talking to Miss Liana Stormcraft yesterday.  She insisted in class that you stood in front of your train compartment and fought off a dementor.  Made it a little hard to convince the class that dementors are dangerous if an untrained first year student had managed to fight off one."

  Now Joe was stunned. "Sir!  I...I wasn't—I mean, I didn't even know what it was!  I just told it to back off, that's all!"

  Lupin smiled once more.  "Probably was confused that someone would stand up to it like that.  No, I'm not berating you for this.  What you did was very brave, but remember there is a fine line between bravery and stupidity.  Don't go looking for them thinking you can stand up to them.  You got lucky."

  Joe stood up a little straighter.  "Sir, I would never do such a thing!  That was me being at the wrong place at the wrong time."

  Lupin sat back to examine him fully.  "Odd, I'd say from Miss Stormcraft's point of view, you were at the right place at the right time.  No telling what would have happened if you weren't there."  Lupin scratched the side of his chin as he continued to stare at Joe.  "Mr. Black, for extra credit, I would like you to write me a full account of what happened on the train.  Tell me everything that you can remember; what you saw, what you felt, everything.  Think you can do that?"  Joe nodded.  "Good.  Well, off you go, and tell Professor McGonagall that I delayed you.  No sense getting into trouble on my account, but for her it'll seem like old times."

  "Sir?"

  "Never mind."  Just as Joe was about to walk out the door, Lupin called to him.  "Oh, and Mr. Black?  Five more points for showing the courage of a Gryffindor."

  He found McGonagall's classroom fifteen minutes later.  She was perturbed by his lateness, but declined to penalize him points when he explained that Professor Lupin had detained him.  In fact, he could have sworn she was a little amused for just a second.

  Transfiguration turned out to be another disaster much like charms.  They were learning how to change ordinary objects into different items, to which McGonagall impressed everyone when she turned her desk into a pig.  In turn, all they had to do was change a matchstick into a sewing needle, something McGonagall said would be much easier.

  It was no such thing.  Sure, a few of the students managed to alter the matchstick's shape a little, and Icarus even got his to turn a little silvery, but no one else got the results that McGonagall displayed.  In the end, they all got homework that day; research the basis of vegetable to mineral transfiguration and practice changing their matchstick into a needle and back.  No cheating; she would know if the students replaced their matchstick with an actual needle. Joe hadn't succeeded in even the slightest change and once again, had after hours tutoring.

  Lunch was the first time they had to talk since that morning.

  "What did Lupin want, Black?"  Anatolio asked as he stuffed his face with roast beef.

  "Mainly to be a good boy and not go dementor hunting," Joe responded casually.  Anatolio nearly choked on his mouthful of beef while the rest snorted.

  "Why on earth would he hold you back just to tell you that?  He might as well tell you don't go jumping off the highest tower of Hogwarts!"

  "I know why Lupin told him!" Adelie piped up for the first time, "Joe here fought off one on the train!" She was interrupted by loud protests.  "No it's true!  I heard one of the Ravenclaw girls yesterday say he chased one out of their compartment on the trip here.  Said he stood right in front of the doorway and forced it off the train."

  They all looked at him skeptically.  "Well, Black?" Icarus asked for all of them.

  Joe debated how to answer.  They would no doubt be impressed with confirmation of the story, but they could easily see it as boasting.  Of course, if he downplayed it, they could easily see it as false modesty which was just as bad. He finally decided on the simple truth.  "When the lights went out, I heard someone board the train.  I got up to close the door.  When I got there, I was confronted by cloaked figure, I told it to back off.  It decided to go down the hallway instead of coming into our room.  End of story."

  Everyone just stared in silence at him.  Tobias broke the silence with, "That was...."

  "Incredibly stupid." Joe finished, "Yes, I know that now."

  "Weren't you scared?" asked Adelie.

 "Are you kidding?  I was petrified! I swear I about wet my pants."  Everyone laughed at his remark, McNair claiming Tobias did which earned him a punch in the arm.

  As they left to go to potions, Anatolio held him back and said confidentially, "I think you're lying."

  Joe studied him, wondering what brought this on.  "And why is that?"

  "Because how would that Ravenclaw girl see all of this in the dark?  I think you startled some student in the hallway, then told the girl you chased off a dementor."

  Joe scratched his head; what was all this about?  "Seems like a fair deduction.  So why would I go telling folks such an outlandish story?  Or rather, somehow persuade a Ravenclaw to tell the outlandish story for me?"

  Anatolio grinned a little nastily.  "To puff up your reputation of course.  You're big and stupid looking, you're having difficulty in all your classes, and from what I hear, you're already a year behind.  You've got to make your mark somehow, so what better way."

  And there it was.  Plain and simple jealousy.  So far, Joe had gained most of the attention in every class (even if most of it was not the sort he wanted) while Anatolio seemed to be a mediocre student beneath notice.  Joe could tell that all his life, Anatolio had been the center of attention, and now he was being ignored because everyone was paying attention to a big stupid ox.

  "Well?" Anatolio interrupted his thinking.

  "Well what?"

  "Are you going to deny it?"

  "Doesn't seem much of a point.  You've already made up your mind and I doubt anything I say will change it.  We're going to be late for class."  Joe walked away, knowing that Anatolio would be annoyed that he didn't get the last word, and even worse, that it appeared he was following Joe.  Joe relented and let Anatolio pass him in the hallway to catch up to the rest of the Slytherins.

  Potions looked to be the worst class ever.  It was held deep within the dungeons and when Professor Snape walked into the class seconds after they had sat down, Joe had the distinct impression he was going to be the center of unpleasant attention.  To make matters worse, it was their second class with the Ravenclaw students, Miss Stormcraft and her friend were pointedly ignoring him now.

  “You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” Snape whispered as he slowly paced the front of the room, but it was loud as thunder in the deathly quietly room.  “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic.  I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”  Snape glowered over them all, daring them to say anything.  Joe knew deep down that Snape was just waiting to call him in front of everyone to humiliate him.

  "Mr. Black," Snape said coldly, pinning him with his black eyes.

  Called it in one.  Joe stood up, hands folded before him, trying to school his nervousness into an outward appearance of calm.  "Yes, sir."

  Snape paced a little before he posed his first question.  “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

  Joe cleared his throat to give him a little time to think.  "Sir, I believe that would create the Sleeping Death potion."

  Snape stopped his pacing and stared blankly at him.  Joe thought he may have shocked the teacher a little with his answer.

  “Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

  Joe thought frantically, knowing he should know the answer, but nothing came.  "I'm sorry sir, but I do not know." he finally answered.  Snape smirked a little and resumed his pacing.

  “Perhaps something a little simpler then; what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

  This one he knew from his studying for Herbology.  "Sir, I believe that they are the one in the same, the difference appearing to be local nomenclature."

  Snape stopped pacing once again and stared hard at Joe.  He fought hard not to look at the floor and instead tried his best to think of nothing in order to calm his nerves once more.  "A bezoar is a stone found in the stomach of a goat and it can cure most poisons, what are you doing, Mr. Black?"  The last part came out as an accusation.

  Joe had been writing down everything that Snape had said. At the question, he looked back up.  "Writing down your pronunciation of the stone, sir.  I had read about it, but thought it was pronounced, 'bee-zore.' "

  Snape looked like he was about to either laugh or bite off his head.  Strangely enough, Joe had no clue as to what the teacher was thinking; it was a very disconcerting thing.  In the end, Joe was curtly told to sit down and was ignored for most of the class.

  They jumped right into their first potion, something for curing boils.  Snape slightly waved his wand at the chalkboard and a recipe appeared, to which they were instructed to complete before the end of class.  While the others busied themselves with gathering herbs and animal components or setting up cauldrons over burners, Joe patiently copied the written instructions down in is notebook and carefully reread everything before starting.  He didn't hear Professor Snape come up behind him.

  "Why have you not started?" The question almost made Joe jump out of his seat.

  "It helps me understand if I write things down first.  'Measure twice, cut once' you know."  It seemed to satisfy the Snape for he moved to circle around the other students.

  Joe was the last to gather everything he needed from the supply closet and start his concoction.  However, his planning ahead soon caught him up with everyone as students began to make small but significant mistakes.  Once he stopped Tobias from adding porcupine quills at the wrong time and quietly pointed to line seven of the instructions to show where he was about to go wrong.  Meanwhile Snape was berating a Ravenclaw, "Mr. Pennywise, can you not read line three?  Then why are you stirring clockwise when it clearly states that the mixture must be stirred counter-clockwise?"

  As the class wore on, it became clear that while Snape wasn't exactly favoring the Slytherin students, he surely wasn't being lenient to the Ravenclaws.

  "Miss Cutright, this potion is useless.  You've added the final sprig of winter mint at the wrong time."  Snape made the reddish liquid disappear and gave her less than half marks while previously he accepted Lyeria's disaster of a potion with a passing grade.  The poor girl was red-faced with anger, but kept quiet as she walked back to her seat.

  Only Joe's potion passed muster with no remark of what he had done wrong.  In fact, unless he missed something small, he could find nothing wrong with it, but Snape didn't comment one way or the other; he just gave Joe a passing grade.

  As the entire class cleaned up their instruments and packed away books to leave, Snape walked over to his table.  "Mr. Black, I will be expecting you tonight at eight o'clock for extra lessons."

  Joe just looked at him in puzzlement.  What had he done wrong?  He was sure he did everything right.  Instead of complaining, he simply said, "Yes, sir."

  As he left, he heard one of the Ravenclaw girls console her friend, "Cheer up, Alyssa.  You couldn't have done worse than Black; he's got remedial lessons already."  Alyssa (Miss Cutright, it turned out) chuckled a little, but had the decency to blush when she saw him walk by.  He pretended it didn't bother him.

*          *          *

  "You got detention again?" Violet said scornfully.  "The rate you're going, you'll be lucky to graduate before my children start attending!"  They were all sitting the Great Hall having dinner.  Joe was glad that he would have time to eat before seeing both McGonagall and Snape this evening.  Fortunately, they had a few hours beforehand to finish the day's homework before dinner.

  "It's not detention, it's just extra tutoring."

  "Amounts to the same thing.  At least you didn't get more homework from Lupin.  Ugh, what teacher would show up in patched robes?  You'd think he would have at least brought decent clothes to wear for class.  I don't expect teachers to show any fashion sense, but it just looks bad for the whole school if one of them shows up looking like a beggar."

  Mainly to stop her running tirade on clothing, Joe chimed in when she paused.  "Actually, I have extra homework from there was well.  He wants me to write up an account of that dementor encounter."

  Icarus smiled a little and said in a patronizing tone, "Well, it looks like you're going to be a busy little elf for a long time, Black." 

  Joe ignored the jibe and excused himself.  He returned to their bedrooms to change into some cleaner robes and to do some reading.  While there, he noticed subtle changes in the room.

  They were small, but noticeable.  For instance, everyone (except him) had larger wardrobes complete with a dressing mirror.  Also everyone (except him) had better looking bed sets, Anatolio's was even gilded.  Overall, the boys had apparently earned a few amenities in keeping with their points.  So far, Joe had earned a candlestick holder with a half-used candle.  He did notice that his blanket had been replaced, but apparently Tobias didn't need it, having earned a down comforter.  He probably was supposed to be incensed with this treatment, but in all honesty, he had lived in far worse conditions.

  Transfiguration tutoring went as expected.  No matter how hard he tried, he could not make the matchstick turn into a needle.  The best he could manage was to make it look a little greyish and hard.  Professor McGonagall grimly smiled and told them that they would continue tutoring on a regular basis.

  Potions however, turned out to be very unexpected.  Oh sure, Professor Snape still had an overbearing sense of hostility towards him, but Joe was used to that from far scarier people.  No, what was different was the lesson itself.  Rather than chide him for what he had done wrong that afternoon, Snape instead began to grilling him with question after question, making him answer as best he could.  When "I don't know, sir." became the frequent response, Snape stopped the interrogation.

  Then Snape had Joe perform what seemed to be nonsensical laboratory tasks; stirring cauldrons this way and that, managing fires to certain levels of intensity, measuring various ingredients, and even assessing their quality.  However none of it involved the actual creation of a potion.

  "Enough."  Snape finally said as Joe was separating caterpillars into piles of "useless," "acceptable," and "ideal."

  "It is obvious that any more would be a waste of time."  He calmly strode over to his desk and began to write something on a piece of parchment.

  Joe was stunned.  He knew he was having a difficult time in class, but it was only the second day.  Did this mean he had already failed somehow?  Would he be allowed to continue classes, or would they just ask him to leave?  It didn't seem fair.  He had tried his best at all of his subjects, and now it looked like everything would be dashed into the ground.  It would have been far better if they had just left him alone with his mum instead of showing him all of this wonder and then say, "Sorry, we made a mistake."

  "Mr. Black, calm yourself," Snape said in his typical disdainful voice.  Joe did his best to do so.  It was hard considering that Snape seemed to do the same emotions sensing thing that he could.  When he had done so, Snape continued.

  "As head of your house, it is my duty to oversee the well-being of Slytherin students.  Obviously, that includes you," though it appeared that Snape didn't relish that particular job, mused Joe.  "As such, I have written a performance review for Headmaster Dumbledore, with a request that he observe your feeble attempts at transfiguration and charms."

  Snape finished writing, rolled up the parchment and sealed it with a small tap from his wand.  He then gently tossed it up in the air and instead of falling to the ground, it zoomed out the open door and down the hall.  "You may go."

  Joe picked up his bag and mumbled a 'goodnight, sir' before stumbling out into the hallway. Second day, and already he was being sent to the headmaster like some errant schoolboy.  It wasn't fair!  He had done everything he could, kept his head down, nose clean, heck he had even made sure that his group of first years did the same.  And yet here he was being punished for not being able to do the impossible.  However, he had learned at a rather early age that complaining rarely helped.  The Squeaky Wheel didn't get greased, it got bludgeoned until it got smart enough not to squeak.

  When he arrived back in the common room, he casually glanced at the points board, then did a double take when he saw his name.  He was now up to twenty-five points.  When did that happen?  He counted the ten points he received in Defense, but where did the other fifteen come from? And why all of a sudden?  Surely Snape hadn't awarded them; he just said Joe was a complete waste of time.  At this point, he didn't care.  He checked the rest of the first years and saw that most of them still had more though.  Tobias only had what he did from his morning and Lyseria had only earned five more since then, but at least it seemed no one has lost any.

  As he entered the boy's bedroom, Nicholas asked, "So, how'd go?"

  "Transfiguration was a bust."

  "Yeah, figured that would happen.  McGonagall looked like she'd be a battleaxe for sure.  What about Snape?    He wasn't too hard on ya, was he?"

  Joe wasn't sure anymore. "I honestly don't know.  He had me doing menial things like stirring and sorting and whatnot.  In the end, he said it was a complete waste of time and wrote up a note for the headmaster."

  "Man, Black, are you even going to make it through the year?" Anatolio said with obvious disgust.  "Who wants to bet Black gets packed off before Christmas?"  Everyone laughed but surprisingly Icarus did make a wager of ten galleons that Joe would last until Easter break.  Joe wasn't sure if he shouldn't be grateful Icarus gave him that long.

  They talked for a little more, but soon Warrick called lights out and they turned in for the night.  Joe found it hard to sleep thinking that he would have Professor Dumbledore assessing his skill (or lack thereof) in charms and transfiguration.  It took him a long time to go to sleep that night.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

A Grisly Discovery

  The next week went by passably well.  The classes that relied heavily on reading and retaining went reasonably well.  Practical courses were still nerve wracking as he still had not managed to catch up with the rest of the students.  He had finally attended astronomy with Professor Sinistra late Tuesday night and was now the proud owner of a (practically) new telescope, albeit a few galleons lighter.

  Astronomy turned out to be a fun class for him.  Once a week, weather permitting, they were allowed to stay up until midnight to watch the night time sky and learned the direct relationship of the planets to magic.  It was a fairly complex course and few of them really understood it all, but Joe was just happy to look through the eyepiece and wonder if somewhere out there, someone else was looking back.

  On his first weekend, Joe discovered the library and stayed there for most of the day.  The place was quiet, filled with books unknown to him, and rarely did anyone visit for long.  He would have stayed there forever if they had let him.  The only slightly annoyance to the place was a bushy haired Gryffindor girl who would scowl slightly at him whenever they made eye contact.  He wasn’t sure if it was the Slytherin crest on his robes or the fact that he was invading her sanctum that made her hackles rise.  Either way, he could care less; it was a public space and for once, he wasn’t going to let someone else run him off.

  Only two things made the week a little unbearable.  First, his homework was steadily piling up.  On top of his normal workload, just about every teacher added even more during their tutoring sessions.  The only two who didn’t were Professor Binns (who, he believed, was unaware of him) and Professor Hagrid (who, he knew, no longer cared).  History was a bit boring anyway.  Care of Magical Creatures was disappointing.

  Second, it appeared his little group of first years was breaking apart.  It started on Monday afternoon when Anatolio was awarded his own private bedroom.  Either he had earned it with enough house points, or his father managed to buy his way up.  Either way, he gloated as he packed up and moved out.  Soon, the others had managed to earn a private room as well, even Tobias who was fifteen points below Joe.  Warrick espec-ially had fun telling Joe that it was decided that he would not be moved out of the storage room because it was certain he would be gone by Halloween.  Apparently Anatolio’s bet with Icarus had turned into a house pool and just about all the upper class students had bought in.

  However, two things did make life a little easier.  First, he received his first letter from home.  Until that point, he didn’t know just how homesick he really was.  Reading mum’s letter during breakfast, it was all he could do not to cry, but knowing the rest may be watching him gave him enough reason to keep it inside.  One small item she had included was a pack of his favorite candy.  It was a small gesture, but it meant a lot to him.  Thinking back to Nobby, Joe resolved that he would share it with the house elves if and when he could.

  The second was late Thursday, he finally found Neville.  He was searching for a book in the library when he stumbled upon Neville desperately flipping through a few books and scribbling down notes every so often.  Unsure how to approach him, Joe finally gave a quiet cough and hoped Neville looked up.

  “Oh!  Uh, hi, Joe. I’m not bothering you, am I?” Neville said as he looked up.

  “No.”  Joe realized he really didn’t have much to say, and asking ‘how are things?’ seemed a bit stupid.  Instead he looked at texts lying about.  “What subject are you working on?”

  “Oh, uh, nothing really.  Just coping some notes for potions class.”  He made a clumsy attempt to cover his work while talking.

  “You’ve written down the properties of asphodel wrong.” Joe noted as he caught a glimpse of Neville’s notes.

  “What?”

  “Here,” Joe pointed to his writing, “you’ve written that asphodel is the part the tulip family, but actually it is more closely related to the lily.  Also, you’ve said that it is used in potions that deal with sleep, but that is not necessarily so.  Asphodel is actually more associated with, well, things relating to death.”

  Neville looked dumbstruck.  “Really?”

  “Certainly.  Here, let me show you something,” he paged through one of the books he was carrying, “Here it is; Asphodelus.”  The entry went on in great detail about the plant genus, primarily its various species, where they could be found, and uses in magic.

  Neville’s face blanched a little, then regained normal color as he sagged in his chair.  “I’ve been looking for hours for anything that could help me, and the best I could find were potion recipes.  I’ve been trying to decipher what it was used for from that.”

  Joe caught a better glimpse of Neville’s homework.  “Well, judging from the list of questions you have, a good portion of them can be answered with this book.”  Joe then frowned at him, “Why didn’t you think to look in book about plants?”

  “I did!” Neville quietly exclaimed, “but none of them were listed in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.”

  Joe tried to keep the smile to himself.  “Well, there’s part of your problem, Neville.  None of these plants are magical, herbs, or fungi.”

  Neville stared at him for brief moment, then slumped once more in his chair.  “I really hate potions.”  He looked back up at Joe then hastily looked away.  “Thanks, Joe.  Sorry I haven’t been around to see you.”

  Joe shrugged.  “We’ve both been busy, I’m sure.  Want to get together this weekend?”

  Although he tried to hide it, Neville blushed a little, embarrassed by something.  “I don’t think I’ll have the time.  Maybe sometime later.”

  Joe felt he shouldn’t push it.  “Okay then.  I was done with that book, so you can have it. See you around.”

  It wasn’t five minutes later that he was confronted by Draco Malfoy and his two bodyguards.  “What do you think you’re doing helping out Longbottom?” he demanded.  By now, the friction between Malfoy and those associated with Harry Potter were well known to him.  Fortunately, Joe had a quick answer.

  “Who said I was giving him the correct answers?” he responded nonchalantly.

  Draco thought a second before he smiled nastily, “Good one, Black.  Who knows, maybe you’re not so bad after all,” and left before Joe could reply.

  Friday afternoon, he received a summons to visit headmaster Dumbledore after dinner.  Even worse, Ingersoll and a boy from Hufflepuff were caught fighting, so he was personally informed by Warrick that he would be attending the detention with Ingersoll Saturday morning.  Add on top of that, he still had no measurable success in Charms, thus he was looking towards another tutoring session with Professor Flitwick and Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape.  It was all he could do to eat.

  Fifteen minutes later, he found himself uttering “blood pop” to a stone gargoyle, which leapt out of the way to reveal a moving circular staircase that deposited him inside the headmaster’s office.  Headmaster Dumbledore was no where to be found at the moment, so Joe took the time to look around.

  It was about what he suspected.  Various portraits—obviously former headmasters—hung on every available wall space, the old subjects sleeping very soundly.  (Joe still hadn’t gotten used to people moving about in paintings; it seemed like a little of the person’s soul was trapped forever on canvas.)  Tables were covered with bric-a-brac of a suspected magical quality—Joe touched none of them.  Over to one side, the most beautiful bird he had ever seen perched on a stand, contentedly eating on a slice of orange.

  And there, thrown haphazardly on a top shelf, was the ragged wizard’s hat from that first night.  Joe looked about to see if he really was alone, and confident that he was, gingerly reached up and gently picked it up, afraid it might yell for help or something.  When it stayed quiet in his hands, he hesitantly set it upon his head and waited to see if it would speak once more.

  The small voice whispered in his ear, “Bee in your bonnet, Black?”

  “Why did you stick me in Slytherin?” he thought.

  “Well, you did say you wanted to be where you would be the most useful, did you not?”

  “But…they don’t want me there.  I’m not even sure what they’d think if they knew I was from a Muggle household,” he complained.

  “Ah, well, I did warn you that it would be difficult, did I not?  Still, nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure.  One bit of advice though, you probably should keep your parentage to yourself,” the hat warned.

  “So why do you think I’ll be useful in that house?”

  “Well, that would be telling now, wouldn’t it?”

  Joe started to angrily retort, but just at that moment, the door to the office opened and Headmaster Dumbledore walked in.  Embarrassed at being caught with the Sorting Hat on his head, Joe quickly removed it.

  “Please, don’t let my arrival interrupt your conversation,” Dumbledore said as he sat down at his desk.  Joe couldn’t tell if he was being serious or sarcastic and that annoyed him slightly.  Instead, he placed the hat back in its resting place and sat in front of the desk.

  “I think we were finished.  Sorry.”

  “Oh don’t be.  I’ve had many a pleasant conversation with it, sometimes for hours on end.  Now then, how has your first week been?”

 Joe adopted his stance of looking at the floor while folding hands neatly in his lap.  “Fine, sir.”  Silence stretched for several seconds before he risked a glance at the headmaster.  The old man’s eyes twinkled a little through his half-moon spectacles, and he may have been smiling underneath that long beard of his.

  “Joe,” Dumbledore said gently, “you are not in trouble here.  I’ve asked you here to help you out as best I can, but I can only do that if you be honest with me and are willing to talk about anything and everything.”

  Joe held his breath for a few seconds, and before he knew what he was saying, blurted out, “It’s been horrible sir!  I’ve been placed in a house where the students are betting when I’ll be kicked out, I can’t do any magic at all no matter how hard I try, the teachers think I’m stupid, hardly anyone will talk to me, no one wants to be my friend, and I don’t even think I should be here!”  It was like a huge mass of bile had been thrown up, something that couldn’t be stopped even if he wanted to.  His eyes watered and it took all of his will to not cry.  Ashamed of his outburst, he turned away from Dumbledore and focused on the bird.

  The silence stretched even longer before, until Dumbledore mused, “Finally, a whole and truthful answer for a change.  I wish a few more of your fellow students would place their trust in me.”  Joe couldn’t think of anything to say in response to that, so he swallowed the lump in his throat and kept quiet while he studied the long, golden feathers of the bird’s tail.  He saw in his peripheral vision the headmaster’s wrinkled hand reach out and the bird flew to him, lightly resting on his arm.  When Dumbledore slowly brought the bird to close to stroke its head, Joe was forced to face him once more.  The headmaster wasn’t looking at Joe anymore, instead he was fondly looking at his pet.

  “I’m not sure if you’ve seen one of these.  Fawkes is a phoenix; I rescued him several years back when I was visiting Egypt.”

  Surprised by this information, Joe asked the first thing that popped into his mind, “You mean like the mythological phoenix?”

  Dumbledore smiled back at him.  “Exactly so, though your information may be a little off.  Phoenix do consume themselves in a blaze of fire when they reach the end of their lifespan and are reborn out of the ashes, but they don’t live a thousand years before that.  Fawkes had his burning just last year, so you’ve caught him at a time when he’s at his best.  Their tears can cure even the most lethal of injuries and they can carry an amazing amount of weight.  Their song is one of the most beautiful sounds you will ever hear, and it can bring you to tears when it ends.”  He held up his arm once more and the bird flew back to its perch.

  Dumbledore turned back to his desk and looked at a piece of parchment.  “Well, Joe, you have a large list of concerns.  If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to respond to them in reverse order.

  “Firstly, you do indeed belong here.  Whether you believe it or not, you have shown a strong aptitude in your studies and great potential in performing magic.  I would be very saddened if you decided that you did not belong here and left us and I beg you to give it a little longer.

  “Secondly, you believe that no one wants to be your friend or to talk to you.  Once again, you may not believe it, but you have already started a few friendships, they just need a little work is all.  I know it’s hard being in a place where you do not know anyone, but a lot of students are in the same boat and have the same doubts as you.  Give it time, but just remember that building a friendship requires the work of two people, not one.

  “As for your teachers thinking you are stupid, I have a few statements to read.  ‘Joseph shows an excellent grasp of transfiguration theory and most likely will be able to start second year studies by the end of Christmas holidays,’ signed, Professor McGonagall.  ‘Mr. Black has quickly picked up the fundamentals of spell casting and should be able to advance to a higher course level, provided that we solve his situation with the actual casting of spells,’ signed, Professor Flitwick.  “Joseph Black already knows most of the course material with regards to planetary classification and background information.  Recommend that he take personal lessons regarding magical applications and be transferred to second level stellar observations,’ signed, Professor Sinistra. 

  “Both Professors Lupin and Sprout agree that you are learning fast and have a keen mind for recalling information, but believe due to the sheer volume of information they have to teach, that you should stay where you are.  By far the best one yet; ‘Mr. Black seems to show at least a talent for being able to follow simple instructions and hasn’t destroyed any valuable equipment thus far,’ signed, Professor Snape.”

  Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled a little more as he looked up from his reading, “I know it sounds bad, but trust me, for Professor Snape, that’s a glowing report.  Joseph, no one thinks you’re stupid, far from it.”

  Joe wiped away a lingering bit of wetness from his left eye.  “Did… did Professor Binns or Professor Hagrid have anything to say?”

  “Ah, well,” Dumbledore began, grinning, “Professor Binns believes you are Jonathon Banks and believes you could be the best historian of our times, but then again, Jonathon Banks died twenty years ago at the ripe old age of hundred and fifteen, so I’m not sure I can accept that report.  As for Professor Hagrid,” his eyes clouded over as he paused a second, “he as had a slight confidence problem his first week and has been a little distracted.”

  “We’ve been studying nothing but flobber worms all week,” Joe interjected.

  “So I’ve heard.  However, I think Professor Hagrid will prove to be an excellent teacher on the subject if you give him enough time.  Where was I?” he studied the parchment once more.

  “Ah yes, as for not being able to do any magic, I would beg to disagree.  Professor Snape tells me you’re progressing nicely in your legilimans and occlumens studies.  However, I am assuming you mean with wand usage.  I intend to take a look at that tonight before you head off to your private lessons, but first, I want to finish all of this.

  “Lastly, you feel that you’ve been placed in a house where you’re not wanted.  I myself find it a little peculiar that you were placed in Slytherin.”

  It sounded like a question, so Joe volunteered an answer.  “When the Sorting Hat was debating what house to put me in, I asked it to place me where I would be the most useful,” he said quietly.

  Dumbledore sat back in his chair and glanced at the hat. “Ah, I see now.  Someone’s been meddling again.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  The headmaster sighed a little before continuing, “Joe, I would like to say that it is too hard to explain, but I know you would think that I was belittling your intelligence.  That is not the case, but frankly, I’m not sure I can explain it to you in a way you would fully understand because I’m not sure I understand it all myself.  At least, not at this time.  Maybe in the future, perhaps.

  “I would offer to move you to another house, but in all honesty, I think that would make things worse.  Slytherin would see it as a betrayal on your part for leaving while any other house would never trust you.

  “I am well aware of the prejudices and narrow-mindedness that resides in that house and what it means for you.  However, I will say that despite their view of being only of the most purest of magical families, you are not the only one there that comes from a muggle family.  You may think that their biggest faults are elitism and intolerance, but really it’s fear.  If someone could show them that there was no reason to be afraid, I think their mindset would change dramatically.”

  Joe pondered that for a while.  “So you think the hat placed me there to show them how not to be afraid?”

  Dumbledore stood up, “I don’t presume to know what that ratty old thing was thinking.  However, if you want some advice from an old man, I would suggest you be yourself and you will find that people generally try to show their best side in return."  Dumbledore had walked around the desk to stand next to Joe

  "Now then, may I see you perform a charm for me?  Perhaps the hovering charm?"

  Joe let out a large sigh and stood up.  He fished out his wand and looked around for something to levitate.

  "Allow me," the headmaster commented and placed a golden-red feather on the desk.  Joe couldn't be sure, but it looked like a tail feather from the phoenix.  "There.  Now then, if you would."

  Joe took another calming breath and concentrated on the feather, imagining what it would feel like to fly.  Waving his wand in deft strokes, he uttered "Wingardium Leviosa," in a commanding voice.  As expected, the feather sat motionless.

  "Hmm," Dumbledore uttered.  "Joe, would you allow me to examine your wand?"

  Joe reluctantly handed it over.  When he did so, something peculiar happened, something subtle.  He couldn't be sure, but it seemed like the wand was longer, perhaps slightly bigger.

  Dumbledore inspected it closely.  "Interesting.  I thought it was length of gnarled ash, or beech even. However, it appears to be," he raised it to his nose and sniffed it, "bone.  And you bought this at Ollivander's?"

  "Actually, he gave it to me."

  "Really?  'Very curious,' " he said cryptically, doing an excellent impersonation of Mr. Ollivander.  Realizing he had an audience, Dumbledore smiled a little and looked at Joe.  "Markos is rather well known for his remark.  Still, it is very apt today.  Tell me, did he mention anything about its unusual properties?"

  Joe thought back to the time in the store.  "He mentioned that a distant ancestor fashioned it out of the arm bone of a loved one.  I think he mentioned that blood magic was involved and that she either became a great healer or went on a rampage, no one knows for sure.  I think that's about all he said.  Oh, and the core is made of human heartstring, if that means anything."  Joe eyed the wand in Dumbledore's hands.  "I find it a little disturbing, actually."

  The headmaster smiled at this admission.  "Understandable.  And leave it to Markos to merely give you a physical description and a little history than give you specifics."  Holding up the wand in his open palms, Dumbledore went on.

  "Bone wands are very rare due in fact that while they do have a certain potency for particular magic, they are rather limited in regards to most spells.  Think of it like a rather exquisite violin being used as a guitar.  I can be done, but it is a poor use of its abilities."  He handed it back to Joe.

  "Instead of trying the hovering charm, how about we try something else.  Do you know the hair growing charm?"

  Joe shook his head no, so they spent the next minute with the headmaster showing him the correct wand movement and incantation.  "Now then, if you please."

  Joe was unsure if this was a good idea, but he had little expectation anything would happen.  With a quick stab and motion upward, he commanded "Pilosaugeo!"

  The result was astounding!  Dumbledore's already long hair and beard immediately grew to cover the entire desk and most of the floor.  He even chuckled at the immensity of it before making all vanish with a wave of his wand.  "Well done, Joe!  I shall have a word with both Professors Flitwick and McGonagall about further instruction.  No doubt both of them will be pleased to hear this news, but I fear you may be in for still more homework.  Speaking of which, I do believe we must cut our time short.  It was a pleasure to meet you, Joe."

  "You too, sir.  And thank you," he quietly said as he made to leave.  He glanced back at his wand, and turned back to the headmaster.  "Sir, a question if I may."

  "Ask away."

  "Did my wand change when you held it?  I could have sworn it somehow got bigger or something."

  Dumbledore sighed as he sat back down at his desk.  "I believe that is a question I would prefer Professor Flitwick to answer.  He has had a little more experience with bone wands you see."

  Joe looked at him squarely to see if he could divine anything else, but as before, the man was an enigma.  "Very well, sir."

  He had to run to not be late for Professor Flitwick's tutoring.  He found him reading a small piece of parchment.  "Ah, Mr. Black!  You seem out of breath; I hope you didn't run all the way here from the headmaster's office."  He held up the piece of parchment.  "Quite an interesting bit of information, by the way.  Could I see your wand, perchance?"

  Joe wondered how in the world that note from Dumbledore could have beat him here, but put it out of his mind and dug his wand out to hand over to the teacher.  The moment Flitwick held the wand in his hands it shrank noticeably to about twice the length of Joe's hand.  "What the?" slipped out of his mouth before he clamped it shut. 

  Professor Flitwick chuckled at his outburst.  "Well, that certainly confirms that it is a true bone wand.  You say Ollivander actually gave it to you?  Strange.  In all my life, I think I've seen perhaps two, maybe three of these, but I never had a chance to find out for sure.  The last one was maybe sixty years ago.  Very rare, you see.

  "Professor Dumbledore wanted me to explain the nature of your wand; he felt I had better first-hand knowledge, but that's open to debate.  You know absolutely nothing about its origin?"

  Joe shook his head.  "Mr. Ollivander only said that one of his ancestors fashioned it from a loved one."

  Flitwick nodded as if finally understanding something.  "Well then, perhaps I should start at the beginning.  The reason why bone wands are so rare is due to what is required to construct them.  Obviously, they are made of bone; this one in particular seems to be the left radius bone of a human male.  Any bone could be used, but it is typical that one of the long ones in either the arm or leg is used.  Being a former part of a human wizard, it is finely tuned to magic that affects the human body, both positive and negative changes.”

  Joe merely stared at the shortened wand.  "Why did it shrink so small when you picked it up.  I swear it got larger when Headmaster Dumbledore held it."

  Professor Flitwick smiled once more.  "Well, you have pointed out another aspect of a bone wand.  I hope it doesn't alarm you further.  Once a bone wand is constructed, it becomes magically tied to its user.  Makes it more effective because the magic of the wizard comes directly from himself, rather than being focused through a foreign object like a regular wand."

  Joe stared in confusion at what the professor was trying to tell him.  "I don't understand.  You make it sound like...it's part of my body."

  Flitwick smiled even broader.  "Excellent deduction, Mr. Black.  Very astute.  Yes, what I actually hold in my hand is my very own radius bone, the left one to be more precise."

  Joe looked in horror at the wand once more.  "So...every time I pick up that....thing....I'm actually holding my own forearm bone?  So the wand....replaces it in here?” he said, pointing at his forearm.

  “Exactly.”

  Joe turned a little green at this admission.  All this time, he had been holding his actual forearm in his hand.  His skin crawled at the thought.  He accepted the wand and numbly went through the motions of that Professor Flitwick showed him, but all he could think about was right now, a living bone from his own body was waving around, making hair grow or boils bubble up on Flitwick’s arms.  Once or twice, he almost dropped it.

  “I think we’ve had enough for one night, Mr. Black.  Why don’t we try some more next week, after your thoughts have settled, shall we?”  Joe was grateful for the early dismissal.

  Occlumency lessons were worse than before.  The knowledge he had learned about his wand had severely shaken him and he couldn’t concentrate sufficiently to stop Professor Snape from entering his mind.  For that reason, he was berated even more harshly than before and sent back his dormitory.

  Back in the common room, Joe made a detour towards the study rooms and pulled out a few of his books and began finishing his homework, but his heart wasn’t into it.  He finally gave up after an hour and packed everything back into his bag.  Hesitantly, he removed his wand once more and intently studied the dark, slightly slick bone.  It reminded him of a chicken leg that had all the meat removed—slightly bendable with a warm, organic feel to it.  Near one end, the bone was slightly deformed where it had mended itself years ago.  Joe reflexively griped his left arm while he forced himself to forget that particular event.  He placed the wand back in its case and went to his room.  Warrick had already extinguished the light; yet another thing he would have to deal with one way or another.  He carefully changed into his pajamas in the dark and climbed into bed, remembering that he had detention with Tobias tomorrow morning.  Remembering Snape’s instructions from earlier that night, he forced his mind to clear itself of every thought and tried to go to sleep.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine

Potions and Secrets

  Joe spent the rest of September much like that previous week: little or no progress in either charms or transfiguration class, excelling in potions although Snape never had any comments to make, and overall proficiency in all other classes.  More often than not, he also had to serve detention with Tobias some time during the weekends as well.  About the only difference in study was his evening tutoring where both Flitwick and McGonagall were assigning him studies that heavily relied on a human subject.  By the end of the month, he could easily stun and immobilize a person and heal minor scratches.  As for transfiguration, he still had trouble but had limited success in turning mice into teacups and buttons into snails. McGonagall mentioned that she would not have expected a first year to come even close to performing this type of magic, so he was mollified with his meager performance.

  Care of Magical Creatures was almost a joke.  The entire month, the class spent their hour doing nothing but taking care of flobberworms.  Since it seemed like they could take care of themselves without any help, Joe's group usually spent the time discussing the recent school gossip.  Most of it centered around how long Professor Hagrid would be allowed to stay a teacher, or whether or not Draco Malfoy would ever regain use of his arm.  Joe suspected he was making a big fuss over nothing, and one evening even heard Draco discussing the chances of the hippogriff being disposed of.  It sounded very petty and sadistic, but the more he heard from Draco and his small group of friends, the more Joe felt that was the case.

  The biggest change for Joe came early in October during potions.  By now, Snape rarely ever commented on his preparations or even called on him to answer questions.  Instead, the teacher used the time to belittle the Ravenclaw students which made them even more resentful of the Slytherins.  This time, however, Joe managed to create trouble for himself.

  It was during the middle of class when they were preparing an engorging potion and Joe was meticulously writing the instructions from the board.  He was almost done copying Snape's instructions when he noticed that something bothered him about what was to be done.  He stopped to flip through his book to find the same recipe.  After reading for a minute or two, Joe cautiously raised his hand.  When a full minute went by with no remark from the teacher, Joe cleared his throat and said, "Sir, I think there is something wrong with your instructions"

 The entire classroom went even more silent than it had been before.  Everyone, Slytherin and Ravenclaw alike had stopped what they were doing to stare at him.  Professor Snape stopped his pacing and looked at him. 

  "And what," he said in his quiet voice that often spelled disaster, "do you think is wrong with my instructions?"  The tone was quite clear; either Joe had better have something to tell him or he would be in a lot more trouble than usual.

 Joe stood up and assumed his passive stance; eyes to the floor, hands folding in front of him.  "Sir, we are using sunflower petals."

  "As any idiot who could read would know."  One of the Ravenclaws choked down a snigger.

  "But today is October 5th." Joe went on.

 One of Snape's eyebrows arched up. "Once again, you are stating the obvious.  Perhaps you would like to tell everyone what class this is as well?"  Creesus actually did laugh a little at this comment, but Snape made no angry remark to shut him up.  Joe's ears turned red, but he kept himself as impassive as he could.

  "No sir.  It's just that today, tonight rather, there will be a full moon.  Sunflower petals will have a reduced potency because of this, unless we add a moonstone to cancel the affects."

  The entire class stood there, debating whether laugh at this nonsense or to pity the poor fool Black for daring to bring attention to himself.  Snape pinned him in place with a cold stare.  Finally, he walked over to the blackboard where he had magically written the day's instructions.  "So, Mr. Black thinks he is an expert pharmacist.  Tell me then, what changes should I make to my list of instructions?"

  Joe dared to look up at this point.  Anatolio and Violet were obviously enjoying his discomfort from Snape's sarcastic remarks.  He brushed their gleeful looks away and stared hard at the board, not wishing to look directly at Snape's eyes.  "I believe the ideal solution would have been to soak the sunflower petals overnight in a jar of vinegar along with the moonstone.  However, that would have meant that we should have started preparations yesterday.  However, if we were to add the moonstone to the cauldron at step five before we add the salamander skin, it should be alright, provided that we fished the stone out before progressing to step twelve."

  Professor Snape stood there, looking hard at him.  The other students absolutely had no idea what would happen next, but they definitely knew that they did not want to be in his shoes at the moment.  Even Anatolio stopped his silent ridiculing. 

  Finally, Professor Snape began his slow pacing and started to lecture the class as a whole.  "There is some amount of truth to what the expert potion maker has said.  Since there is a full moon tonight, sunflower petals will have its potency reduced, but only by half.  Please note that in my instructions I have doubled the amount as prescribed in your book."

 Joe quickly looked down into his text; sure enough, Snape had done so.  He had a sudden feeling of falling hit him in the stomach.  This would not be good.

  "As for Mr. Black's assessment of treating the flower petals by soaking it in vinegar overnight with a moonstone, once again, he has spotted a kernel of truth.  However, as he pointed out, we are on a limited time allotment and my evening hours have been sadly tied up with other affairs as Mr. Black well knows."

  By this time, everyone knew he had after hour tutoring with the potions master.  Snape was apparently telling everyone that his free time was being wasted on the likes of one student.

  "Then Mr. Black tells us we can still salvage this disaster of a potion by incorporating the moonstone into the stewing at step five, and removing it after step eleven.  Once again, a kernel or truth, but with he leaves out the fact that the moonstone would be ruined during this process.

  "Mr. Black," Snape had stopped his pacing and was now staring intently at Joe, "you would have us use up a semi precious stone worth at least five sickles in order to produce a potion that costs ten knuts to normally produce.  Even with doubling the sunflower petals, the cost increase is insignificant.  So, tell me, Mr. Black, are my instructions incorrect?"

  Joe stared down back to the floor once more before answering.  "No sir.  I'm sorry sir; I had not considered the cost of ingredients."

  "Mr. Black, it is painfully obvious that you are wasting both my time and your own time being in this class.  Gather your books and wait in my office."

  Joe was stunned for several seconds before he got into action.  Fortunately he had nothing to clean up since he had been writing down the instructions into his notebook, so there was little to pack up.  As he did so, he was careful to not look at anyone nearby; he couldn't bear to see what they were feeling.  Trying to stay as calm as possible through the whole ordeal, he began walking to the door, staring straight ahead and trying hard not to look anyone.  He almost succeeded.  He accidentally caught a glimpse of the Stormcraft girl; her face was lined with pity for him and resentment towards Snape.  He jerked his ahead away and walked inside Snape's office, quietly closing the door behind him.

  Time dragged on as he waited for class to end.  He dreaded to hear what Snape was going to say, but surely he wouldn't be kicked out of school.  Perhaps more detention for speaking out loud in class?  More remedial studies?  He tried to read one of his books to take his mind off the eventual confrontation, but his mind wasn't set for the task.  All he could do was sit there and think about the possible outcomes of this meeting he wished had never happened.

  Professor Snape finally opened the door and walked inside.  Joe hastily got up and adopted his usual stance.  Instead of telling him to sit or even acknowledging his existence, Snape just ignored him as he sat down and began scribbling on a piece of parchment.  When he was done, he set the paper aside to dry and began to write something else down on another piece of parchment.  When that one was done, Snape checked to see if the first was dry, rolled it up, sealed it with his wand and then absent-mindedly threw it up into the air where like before, it sailed out of the room and presumably down the hallway.  The second piece of parchment he handed to Joe.

  "Have your mother read this, and if she agrees, sign it and return it to me."  Joe took the parchment but refused to read it as Snape worked on yet another manuscript.  This he finished rather fast and again, handed it to Joe.  "This is a list of items you will need to purchase."

  Joe was confused with this last statement.  Why would he need additional school supplies?  Hesitantly, he looked at the paper.  It was a small list of equipment, general potion supplies, and a book, Intermediate Potions for Beginning Practitioners.  He risked a look at the paper he was supposed to send to his mother.  It was a permission slip allowing him to travel to Hogsmeade, whatever that was.

  "I'm not sure I can afford all of this, sir.  Will I be able to obtain all of this in Hogsmeade?"

  Snape never looked up as he opened a gradebook and began to make changes within.  "Everything will found in Hogsmeade, as for cost, that is not my problem.  You will be attending second year potions class starting tomorrow.  That is all."

  Joe was dumbfounded.  Did he just jump a level in potions?  But why?  "Sir, I don't understand.  I was under the impression that I was doing poorly in class."

  Snape sighed and finally looked up at him.  "On the contrary, you have made every potion thus far perfectly.  Today, you proposed a change in the instructions in order to offset a problem you foresaw with one of the ingredients.  In reality, your proposal was wrong, but your theory was sound.  In addition, you are the first student to point out such a discrepancy in all of the years I have been teaching.  To continue your lessons in first year options would be pointless; you would be better challenged with a higher level of instruction.  Unless you wish to slide through your first year?"  One of his eyebrows raised at this point.

  "No, sir.  Thank you, sir."

  Snape returned to his work without another word.

  It was a bit early for dinner so Joe went outside to clear his head a little.  It was getting cooler now that they were in the early parts of October.  Thinking about the permission slip he had for Hogsmeade, he found a quiet place where he could write a quick letter explaining the day's events to his mother and folded the two pieces of paper together, then set out for the owlery to mail his letter.  He managed not to get nipped this time and decided to stay there a little while to admire all of the birds roosting there.  Many of them were tawny brown with little feathery horn-like eyebrows.  A few were interesting with their unique shape or color, like the one snowy white owl that perched far up in the rafters or the few tiny balls of feathers that zoomed around his head either in agitation or excitement.

  Finally the cold got to be too much and he went inside to eat.  He found his little band of Slytherins already there, animatedly talking.  Anatolio noticed him first and snidely smiled.

  "So, I take it they finally had enough.  Why don't you tell us every little detail of your talk with Snape so I can collect my money."

  Oh yes, the betting pool.  Creesus had the first spot, expecting him to be gone by now.  Inside, Joe smiled a little, "Professor Snape called me into his study to hand me a permission slip for field trips to Hogsmeade."

  "What?!!"  Almost all of them said it at once. 

  "But trips to Hogsmeade are only allowed by third years!" Adelie cried out.  "That's not fair!"

  "I think I was given this privilege because I will need to buy some supplies for my new class.  I've been moved to second year potions."

They all sat there stunned into silence while that information set in their brains.  Adelie was the first to cry foul about the unfairness of it all. Violet just seemed to think the whole business was beneath her attention while most of the boys were visibly upset about it, but refused to comment.  Icarus seemed to take it in stride though, which Joe was grateful.  Of course, Icarus may only be happy about the whole situation because it meant Anatolio wouldn't win the bet thus far.  The only remark that really hurt Joe was from Lyseria.

  "I thought we were friends," she grumped.

  "We are friends," he responded, drawing a blank as to what brought this up.

  "But you're leaving us," she said, as if that explained everything.

  "I'm not leaving, Lyseria.  I'm just transferring to another class for potions, that's all.  I'll still be in the other lessons."

  "Until you move out of those classes as well.  I don't like you anymore."  And with that, she actually picked up her plate and moved several seats away from him.

  Violet of course had to quip that it was his first lovers' spat.  Joe ignored her.  For the rest of the meal, he ate in silence, ignoring the rest of the group's baleful stares at him, refusing to talk to him anymore.  During dessert, he had an idea and quickly wrote out a short note on a small piece of paper and left it on his plate.  Tobias was a little interested in his actions but said nothing.  When the plates were cleared, sure enough, his note had vanished along with the crumbs of the cookies he had eaten.  Now to hope that the note would be passed on.

Once again, the night was spent doing homework and studying, but this time no one joined him.  He finished up early and sat in the common room watching as the rest of the house shuffle through.  No one bothered him; it was almost like he was invisible.  He briefly thought about going to the library, but looking up at the mantlepiece clock, realized he wouldn't have time to stay there too long.  After a while, he figured he might have waited long enough and went back into the study room he liked to use.  Five minutes later, the small elf he had met before showed up.

  "You wanted to see me, young master?"

  "Only if now is a good time.  If you're busy, I could talk later."

  The elf looked a little perplexed by his answer, but said, "No, Nobby can talk to young master if he wishes."

  "Actually, Nobby, I was wondering if you could help me.  See, I am in need of some furniture for my room and wasn't sure where I could find some things."

  Nobby's ears sank a little low.  "Sorry, young master, but master Warrick has made it clear that young master Black is to have none of the usual Slytherin suite unless master Warrick says so."

  That stopped Joe for a second.  So Warrick was holding things back.  He had figured as much, but Nobby just confirmed his suspicions.  "What do you mean by 'usual Slytherin suite,' Nobby?"

  "Young master should know by now.  When any of the Slytherin masters earns enough points, he is awarded the comforts of the house of Slytherin."

  Joe thought briefly.  "If Warrick had not made his decree, exactly what would I have by now?"

  Nobby's ears sank a little lower.  "Nobby's sorry, young master.  Young master Black should have the largest first year bedroom suite complete with access to the younger students' private bath.  Instead, master Warrick said young master Black had only earned a candlestick holder.  If young master wishes it," Nobby hesitated, "If young master wishes, Nobby will punish himself."

  "What?  Why would I wish that?  This is Warrick's fault, not yours."  Something in Nobby's voice really irked him.  It sounded like Nobby had half expected him to torture him or something.

  Nobby just wrung his hands together.  "Young master is most kind.  Nobby is sorry he couldn't be of more help to young master."  Again, something in the elf's manner made Joe uneasy.

  "Nobby, does Warrick punish you?  Would he punish you if he found out you were talking to me?"

  "Oh no, sir!" Nobby said in a severe tone, "Master Warrick never punishes Nobby himself.  Master Warrick makes Nobby punish himself.  Sometimes Nobby has to beat himself over the head with a fire poker, or burn his hands over the fire for master Warrick. Most likely master Warrick will make Nobby punish himself for talking to young master as well."

  Joe was shocked.  An elf would have to torture himself on the whim of some sadist like Warrick?  "But why??"

  "Because Nobby is a bad elf.  Master Warrick says so."

  "No, no.  Why do you have to do what he tells you to do?"

  Nobby looked up in confusion.  "Because Nobby is a house elf, young master."

  "You mean," Joe said slowly, "You have to do anything we say?"

  "Of course, young master.  Nobby is a house elf."

  Joe thought nothing in this world could be more disturbing than what he had learned of the bone wand.  This just proved he shouldn’t make assumptions.  His mind raced as he thought of the implications, the notion that there was a group of elves—no, people—who were forced to do whatever they were told.  It wasn’t right.

  Joe was silent all this time, the elf waiting expectantly as he sat there, thinking.  “Oh. Uh, Nobby, I guess that is everything I needed to know.  I don’t want you to get into trouble on my behalf.”  He searched in his bag for the candy his mum had sent him.  “Also, I wanted to give you this.  You’ve been very helpful.”

  Nobby’s eyes lit up as held his prize.  “Oh thank you, young master!  Nobby wishes he could be more helpful.”

  Inspiration struck Joe.  “Well, you say I am not allowed to have the furniture granted to Slytherin students.  Surely there’s has to be something lying around in this castle that no one would mind if I borrowed it.  I don’t care what it looks like, as long as it’s serviceable. You know, maybe a desk or table that might need a leg fixed or something.”

  Joe had half expected Nobby to say even this was off limits, but he was rewarded with a huge elfin grin.  “Oh yes, master!  There is a room up on the fifth floor that is filled with broken furniture!  Nobby could bring that to you!”

  “No, wait!” Joe retorted as it looked like the elf was going to run off and do just that.  “I don’t want you to get in more trouble.  Perhaps if you just showed me.  No, how about you just write me directions to get there instead.  That way, you can honestly say to Warrick that you didn’t bring it here to me, or tell me where to get it.  In fact, make them a little hard to understand, that way you can even say you didn’t help me in any way.”

  Nobby just looked at him as if he was a little mad, but in the end the elf snapped his fingers and writing magically appeared in his notebook.  Looking at the tight, backward handwriting, Joe smiled at the little elf and said, “Thanks, Nobby.  You’ve been absolutely no help to me, whatsoever.”  Nobby frowned a little at this, but said nothing as he silently vanished with another one of his finger snaps.

*          *          *

  The next morning, Joe made it a priority to be as nice to Lyseria as possible, offering to play cards before breakfast and look over her homework before class.  She didn’t even bother to answer him as she walked by.  It irked him a little, to know he was being ignored in some petty, childish fashion but he had to remind himself that Lyseria was still only eleven. 

  The rest were no better.  Sure, in Lyseria’s heart, it was a breach of trust, a sense of abandonment for her.  That he could understand and forgive.  Most of the others were just bitter that they had not achieved a similar jump in lessons.  No sense of camaraderie that one of their own had done well.  The rest, Tobias and Nicholas, avoided him because they didn’t want to be on the wrong side of an obvious silent war.  In the end, Joe sat alone as he ate breakfast and was the last to arrive for Herbology lessons.

  There, it soon became apparent to the group of Gryffindor students that he had somehow alienated the Slytherins, which he thought would have made them a little less antagonistic towards him.  But no, now the two groups had found a common foe that they could both freely harass.  Joe found it hard to remain calm enough to shield his mind from the angry and loathing thoughts he would accidentally pick up when looked up from his station.  ‘Head down and attract no attention’ wasn’t working anymore.

  Joe got his first reprieve of this emotional onslaught when he attended his first second-year potions class.  It was just after lunch, and he had just barely made it inside before Professor Snape walked in and curtly told him to sit.

  Only he had no idea where to sit.  The room was full of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students who were all staring intently at him, all wondering why he was here.  Finally, he decided to sit next to a Ravenclaw girl who was by herself.  She looked at him with a dream-like stare, and actually smiled a little before she turned to intently listen to Snape’s lecture.

  When they began preparations to make the burn-cure salve, he heard her ask in a wispy voice, “You’re the American boy who can order dementors about, aren’t you?”

  Joe was so caught off guard by anyone talking to him that he almost dropped the aloe he had been peeling.  “I beg your pardon?” he murmured.

  “The night we all came to Hogwarts.  Liana told everyone you ordered the dementors off the train.  You must have some blandershunt blood in you; I’m envious.”

  Joe wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so instead he took a careful peek at her face to see if she was making fun of him.  What he saw made him stare for several seconds before he realized what he was doing and quickly turn back to his aloe before the shock registered in his face.  What he saw was something he had never expected to see in this place; a person so honest and gentle, it was like a burn-cure salve to his own mind.  For over a month, he had to brace himself against antagonistic vibes from his own house, and now to feel this.  He had to steady his emotions before he could say anything to her.

  “I didn’t order them off the train.  I just stood in the doorway and refused to let one inside our compartment.  It was stupid, considering.”

  She finished cutting her daisy roots before looking up at him.  “It’s strange, but you don’t look like Sirius Black.  I’ll have to tell father that when I mention to him that I’ve met the illegitimate child of Black and Guinevieve Borkins.”

  “What?!” he spluttered.  Surely now she was poking fun at him for some rude reason, but no, her eyes told him that she firmly believed everything she had said.  “I’m sorry, but I’m not who you think I am.  My father lives in Texas and I live with my mum in London.  I’m not related to Sirius Black.”

  “Oh.  I bet he’s the one with the blandershunt blood, living in Texas.  Did you ever see a chupacabra when you were there?  I hear they can be quite friendly as long as you don’t provoke them.”

  Joe actually stopped what he was doing with this last statement.  Living in Texas, even as a small child, Joe had heard of the Spanish myth of the chupacabra and was about to tell her it was nothing but a myth.  However, until he got to Hogwarts, he would have said hippogriffs were also a myth, so perhaps the legends were true.  Still, even if they were real things, he seriously doubt they would be friendly.  Not wanting to either show his ignorance or debate the merits of a chupacabra, he finally said to her, “No, I haven’t ever seen one.  Sorry.”

  “That’s alright.  They’re probably shy.”  She turned away from him while she absent-mindedly added her ingredients to her boiling cauldron.  Joe saw a brief glimpse of what he thought was a beet or a radish dangling from her ear.  With an unexpectant waving motion, she turned back to him.  “Sorry, I think there might have been a wrackspurt flying about.”

  Joe just stood there and stared at her before Professor Snape walked by and snapped at him to get to work.  He busied himself as he wondered just what in the world was wrong with this girl.  Obviously she was sitting by herself for a reason, something everyone else in the room knew except him.  If he didn’t know better, he would say she was somewhat mentally imbalanced like the vagrants he occasionally saw walking in downtown London.

  They finished their concoctions in silence.  She may have a screw or two loose in that brain of hers, but Joe noticed she definitely knew what she was doing when it came to making the salve.  The two of them were only ones who didn’t raise the ire of Snape at the end of class.

  As everyone gathered their books to leave, she spoke to him once more.  “You don’t like to talk much, do you?”

  Another direct question.  Joe thought a second before responding.  “Not really.  It just seems like most people don’t want to talk to me, so I don’t.”

  She nodded her head as they walked down the hallway.  “Most people find it hard to talk to me as well.  Not enough gurdy root in their diet, I suppose.  We’ll have to talk some more next time, Joseph.  I would like to hear about your half-blundershunt father sometime.”

  Joe stopped dead in his tracks while the Ravenclaw girl walked on apparently oblivious.

  The rest of October settled into a relative peace; the other Slytherin first years silently dismissed him from their talks, while the rest of the school apparently found other things to discuss that were not Joe Black related.  Neville was rarely seen anymore.  The new Ravenclaw girl—Luna Lovegood Joe finally found out—seemed amenable to him, but turned out to be a little odd.  Scatter-brained, his mother would have called her, but Joe thought there may have been something else to her behaviour, something he was reluctant to discuss.  Still, potions had suddenly become a little more interesting.

  Some time during the second week, Joe finally found time to search for the storage room Nobby had told him about.  To find it, he only had to pace around three times in a certain hallway while thinking of a place where people stored things.  When you knew the means to summon the storage room, it really wasn't all that hard, but the key was to know about the trick to make it appear in the first place.  Sure enough, after his third trip down the hall, a door that wasn't there before opened up to reveal a massive cathedral-like space that was littered with the debris of centuries.  Mounds of broken junk piled everywhere, discarded by countless professors and elves. 

  Joe's new problem was not in finding suitable furniture for his room, it was sorting through the massive amounts of broken items to find useful pieces.  Near Halloween though, he had managed to find a sturdy desk with a missing drawer, a slightly warped table, two mismatched stools, and various small pieces of old equipment that he could use for potion making.  Most of it would need to be cleaned, but he wasn't above a little physical labor.  Surprisingly, he was able to squeeze all of it into his travelling bag and sneak it into his room with no one else wiser. 

  The last week of October had the dubious distinction of being the start of a new subject—broom flying.  Apparently all those tales of witches riding brooms through the air wasn't mere tales after all.  Their instructor, Madam Hooch, was a forceful, no nonsense kind of instructor and brooked no horsing around during the lessons, for which Joe was grateful.  Flying in an airplane was wonderful; flying on what was nothing than a stick between your legs was another matter.  By the end of the week, the rest of the Slytherin and Hufflepuff students were zooming about the castle grounds under the watchful eye of Madam Hooch.  Joe was content to just slowly float around the center patch of grass, barely ten feet off the ground on the slowest school broomstick.

  "You're never going to be a Quidditch player at that rate!" Madam Hooch called after him as she raced off to corral a small group of Hufflepuffs.  Joe was quite happy to never enter a Quidditch field in his entire life.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten

Black Spotted

  Halloween finally arrived, meaning Joe would be taking a day trip to the nearby town of Hogsmeade.  Many of the older students were discussing the various things that be done in the wizard town, so Joe had some notion of what to expect before he got there.  Most students though, seemed to be intent on spending money in a joke shop or filling up their pockets with candy.  A few even mentioned visiting a real haunted house, though why they would want to was beyond Joe's reasoning.  For all intents and purposes, Hogwarts was haunted; just look at all the ghosts that wandered its halls.

  As Joe left the Slytherin common room, he was approached by Nicholas Wheedler who motioned him into a secluded classroom.

  "You goin' to Hogsmeade today, Black?"  Nick looked actually happy about it, unlike the rest of the first years.

  "Yes, right after breakfast." Joe wondered what he wanted.

  "What say you help me out a little?  Pick up a few things while you're there."  Nick practically oozed with schmaltz.

  "I could do that, but you'd have to pay for it.  I don't have much right now."

  Nick waved his response dismissively.  "Nah, nah.  I got money; in fact, I'd be willing to pay you a little as it were."

  That piqued Joe's interest.  Any means to make money was a good thing.  Still, Nick's attitude made him think it might be a little shady.  Why couldn't Nick ask him in the common room?  "What exactly do you want?" he asked warily.

  "Oh, not much.  Here, I even have a list.  You'd find most of it at Zonko's, but the last part, you may have to see if you can find a way into Hog's Head."

  Joe looked down the list, seeing nothing really extraordinary until he saw the last line.  He looked up at Nick, "Fire whiskey?  You think I'm going to buy fire whiskey for an eleven year old?"

  Nick just waved his hands like he was shooing away flies.  "Don't be stupid, Black.  Firs' thing my pap told me is you don't drink or smoke; it'll addle your brains and then you won't be able to fleece the suckers.  No, I want to get a bottle to establish my rep here, show them sixth and seventh years I'm the man to talk to if they's want stuff, know what I mean?  Cut you in on the profits as well, if we get a working business front, if you know what I mean."

  Joe thought about it while he stared at Nick.  The boy was sincere in his reasons, that much was plain.  Still, it didn't seem like a wise thing to get involved in Nick's schemes.

  "I don't know, Nick.  Sounds kind of risky to me.  I mean, what makes you think I can get it anyway; I'm only thirteen."

  "Yeah, but lookin' at the size of you, you could pass for fifteen, maybe even sixteen, and I've heard that barkeep ain't too particular when it comes to customers.  Look, all I'm askin' is you try.  Worse that can happen is you get kicked out is all. Trust me on this."

  Once more, Joe debated the key points of this offer.  Normally, he would have flat out refused, but Nick was the first person out of the Slytherin first years to talk to him since early October.  Sighing, he gave in.  "Fine, give me your money.  I'll try, but I make no promises."

  Nick's grin broke into a wide toothy smile that reminded Joe of a wild predator.  He handed over to Joe a small purse that jingled slightly.  "Thanks, mate.  Tell you what, you get that bottle and you can keep two sickles, okay?"

  "Sure.  Do you want to join me for breakfast or would you rather keep me at a distance still?"  If Joe thought Nick would catch onto the subtle barb, Nick showed no sign of it.

  "Nah.  I gotta meet with someone else before I go down.  See me tonight in my room when you get back."  Before Joe could say anything else, Nick disappeared out the door.

  Joe ate a quick breakfast and then followed the rest of the older students out into the courtyard where the caretaker Filch was checking each student against a list of names he had on a long scroll.  Just as Joe thought he was alone among the throng of students, he heard someone call out, "Black, what do you think you're doing here?"

  Turning around, Joe saw one of his least favorite people, Cecil Warrick.  He and two older Slytherins were standing around, waiting for their turn to be checked off.

  "I'm going to Hogsmeade." he said quietly.

  Warrick sniggered a little with his friends.  "Squib, you must have been dropped on your head one too many times.  You have to be a third year to go to Hogsmeade.  Do everyone a favor and get out of here."

  At that point, Joe reached Filch.  "Name?" the man said nastily.

  "Joseph Black."  Joe said quietly as he looked back towards Warrick.

  Filch made a show of looking down the scroll, hoping to prove that he was not on the list of students allowed the day trip, but finally announced,  "You're here.  Be gone with you, and don't bring any dung bombs back, or I'll skin ya alive!"

  The look on Warrick's face was priceless.  Even if he could never go back to Hogsmeade after this one trip, seeing Warrick's stunned look would make up for it.  He smiled slightly at the group before heading off after the other students, leaving older prefect and his bunch to work through what had just happened.

  Hogsmeade seemed like a nice enough little hamlet to live in, but Joe wasn't there for site seeing like the rest of the students.  He did stop into Zonko's and filled Nick's list of items he wanted.  Looking at the final price, Joe was a little envious that the boy could spend so much on frivolous things.  After that, he stopped inside the only bookstore the town had, and found the second year potions book he needed, but a new one was very expensive and they did not have any used books available.  Rather than purchase the new book, he stepped out to think things through.

  Item one, he thought to himself, he needed that potions book, but a new one would eat up all the money he had with him.

  Item two, he really needed to save money whenever he could because he had seven years of study to complete, and there was no telling how much future books would cost.  Presumably they would be even more expensive.

  Item three, there was one place he could buy used books (and he'd much rather shop there anyway), but that was located in downtown London.

  If only he had a broomstick.  But then again, he had no idea how far away London was, plus he hated flying.  He could possibly take the train back to London, but that was an all day affair, and most likely even if it wasn't he seriously doubt he was supposed to leave Hogsmeade anyway.  If only there was a way—

  And like a light bulb, something clicked in his head.  He remembered early on in the school year, Adelie complaining about not being able to go home on the weekends, seeing how her house was connected to the floo network.  He wasn't sure exactly what that was, but it seemed to be some sort of point to point travel that was fairly quick.  It must also involve fire or something, because Violet replied that she had no desire to smudge her robes with soot.  No doubt he could ask just about anyone here what the floo network was and be told, but that didn't follow the 'don't attract attention' philosophy that had worked for him so far.

  He looked around for inspiration.  Where would people go if they wanted to use a means of travel that might involve fire?  He almost missed it but a sudden whoosh of smoke billowing out of a chimney caught his eye.  Not really having any reason to think it was what he was looking for, Joe entered the building.  It was a noisy pub called The Three Broomsticks and judging from the amount of students inside, it was a choice destination.  Joe quietly threaded his way through the mass of people, finding a spot near the roaring fireplace.  Ten minutes later, he was rewarded with the observation of a man who grabbed some green powder out of a nearby stand, which he threw into the fire while saying "Catchpole Street" in a clear voice.  The fire turned green and the man stepped inside and disappeared.

  That had to be what Adelie was talking about.  It had to be.  But Joe couldn't use it here; there was too many people around and surely someone would stop him.  Still, the powder may be of some use, if he could just find a free fireplace.  He casually walked over to the hearth, and swiped some of the powder while he thought no one was looking.  Carefully pouring the powder into his pants pocket, he walked back outside.  Once there, the first thought he had in finding a fireplace was the Hog’s Head pub.  It took a while to find, but sure enough, it was ill kept, and hosted a quiet, if surly clientele.  The barkeep scowled at him as he walked over to the poorly banked fireplace.  Joe merely nodded at him, and acting as if he knew what he was doing, threw a small handful of the powder onto the coals and said, “Diagon Alley.”

  Green flames erupted from the dying fire.  Joe was unsure this was a wise course of action, but he was already committed and before the barkeep could stop him, walked into the fire.  It was warm but pleasant and was certainly not catching his cloak on fire.  The minute he was fully inside the hearth, there was a great spinning sensation as he rose up into the air.  He was bumped around a little in what he assumed were various connecting chimney flues, but within moments, he was deposited out a different fireplace.  Taking a quick look around, he found himself in the Leaky Cauldron, just outside Diagon Alley.  It had worked.

  Joe nodded at the innkeeper and walked to the back where he tapped the right brick to open up Diagon Alley.  He was on familiar territory, and for once felt peacefully calm, something he hadn’t felt yet at Hogwarts.  He quickly walked to Flourish and Blotts and this time carefully picked out a used copy of the book he needed.  For half the price of a new one, he found one in relatively good condition with minimal markings.

  Back outside, he pondered for a while, deciding what he should do next.  He briefly entertained the idea of seeing if his mum was home, but quickly squelched the notion.  How could he explain how he was home when he should be hundreds of miles away at school?  Instead, he thought about what he would do with his newly furnished room and recent upgrade in lessons.  With that in mind, he made a quick trip to Slug & Jiggers Apothecary and bought a standard kit of potion ingredients.  It was yet another expense his allowance could ill afford, but this time Joe thought it was necessary.  Besides, it might be of financial gain later, provided he was successful in what he wanted to do.

  Walking back through the main thoroughfare, he stopped by Obscurus Books and briefly walked through its shelves of books.  This store was more for hobby reading rather than Flourish and Blotts, so he felt a little more comfortable flipping through the various tomes.  Finally realizing that he had nothing else left to do, he reluctantly went outside and headed for The Leaky Cauldron. 

  On his way, he passed by Londinium Emporium and paused.  Nick really wanted that bottle of fire whiskey, but Joe seriously doubted he could persuade either the barkeep at Hog’s Head or Tom at The Leaky Cauldron to sell him one.  However, Mr. Fargus, the greedy little shopkeeper inside the Emporium might be a different matter.  Never hurt to try.  Joe went inside.

  The proprietor immediately stepped out from the back room as soon as the bell over the door rang.  Once again, Joe was rewarded with a smile that said Mr. Fargus would do anything to rook him over.  Well, Joe decided things would be a little different this time.

  “Hello, young sir!  How may I help you?”

  Joe smiled back, and carefully opened up his bag, using his right hand to search through its contents.  Sure enough, Mr. Fargus’ eyes were drawn to the bag and at the sight of it, his smile froze a little.  Joe slowly drew out a plastic sandwich bag that held one of the brown fuzzy things that he had found inside the bag.

  “Interested in purchasing this?”

  Mr. Fargus hesitated before answering, “Um, no, I’m afraid I’m not in the market for doxy eggs at the moment.  Perhaps some other time?”

  Well, at least he finally got a name for the things.  Joe would do research on them later.  “No matter.  I have a friend who wants me to pick up a bottle of fire whiskey.”

  Mr. Fargus laughed a little, “Well, young sir, this ain’t no bar is it?  Try the Leaky Cauldron.”

  “Well I would, but I’m not sure if Tom would want me as a customer.  He strikes me as being a little too…hidebound if it were.”

  Mr. Fargus scratched his nose at this.  “Well, sir, I would imagine he’d have your best interest at heart, and if you don’t me sayin’, perhaps I should do the same.  Shouldn’t you be at Hogwarts right now?”

  “I’ve been allowed a little holiday as it were.  Needed to buy a few things for school that I couldn’t find in Hogsmeade.  Nothing illicit mind, just a book or two and some other items.”

  Mr. Fargus leaned back, trying his best to judge him.  Joe just kept a blank stare on his face, willing his mind to stay calm.  “You wouldn’t by chance be headin’ back near The Hog’s Head, would ya?  I ask ‘cuz I got a client that wants me to drop off a package for ‘im there, only I ain’t got the time to do so.”

  Now that was a new twist the conversation.  “Not sure,” he responded, thinking how best to pursue this discussion.  “What exactly would this package be?”

  “Oh nothing you need to worry about.  It’d be easy; you just kip in over there, buy yourself a butter beer, and then leave.”

  “And somehow your customer gets his package without me even meeting with him?”  Joe wasn’t sure he liked what he was hearing.

  “Oh, you go in wearing that bag around your shoulder, and I guarantee he’ll just pick it up without even you noticing he’s done so.  Be nice and quiet-like.  Tell ya what, you do this for me, and I’ll throw in two bottles of fire whiskey, no charge.”

  Joe thought for a few seconds.  While it had appeal, it was no doubt that he would be involved in something illegal.  Question was, just how illegal was it?  Letting out a big sigh, he focused once more on Mr. Fargus’ eyes; while the man really wanted this done, nothing in his demeanor suggested it would be dangerous for Joe.  “Okay, but I’d like to at least see what I’m carrying first.  If I don’t like it, I back out, deal?”

  “Certainly!”  Mr. Fargus beamed like he had won the lottery.  “Hold on a mo’ while I fetch it and your whiskey.”  Several minutes later, he came back to the counter holding a burlap sack.  He opened it to show several golden cups that were carefully wrapped in cloth to prevent them from clinking against each other.  “See?  Just a set of goblets he wanted.  Deal?”

  “Just so we’re on the same page, you want me to carry this sack of goblets in my bag, travel back to Hog’s Head where I’m to buy a butter beer and wait for someone to filch it out of my bag while I drink it.  And somehow no one is going to notice all of this.”

  “Trust me on this, lad, no one will be the wiser.”

  He thought for a moment longer and decided he’d do it.  Joe wasn’t sure exactly why he was determined to break as many rules as he could in one day, but for some reason it felt like the right time to do so.  Before he allowed the sack to be placed in his bag though, he carefully gathered everything inside the bag that he felt was valuable and moved them to his various pockets.  Having done that, he allowed Mr. Fargus to place the sack inside.  In addition, he added two recently purchased bottles of fire whiskey as well.

  “Who knows, maybe if you can come by every now and then, I can have some other jobs for you as well.” Mr. Fargus said as Joe started to leave.

  “Well, if I manage to make it back to school with all my belongings, I may very well consider that option.  Good day.”

  The trip was extremely non-interesting considering that Joe’s heart was beating a little faster at the thought of doing something illegal.  He easily walked into The Leaky Cauldron, used the rest of his floo powder to make his way back to The Hog’s Head, and ordered a butter beer from the barkeep.  Just as he was getting up to leave, he accidentally bumped into an old witch and apologized profusely as he helped her stand back up.  Once outside, he nonchalantly felt inside his bag and found his package had been delivered, although one of the bottles was also missing as well.  No matter.

  The trip back to Hogwarts was uneventful as well and made his way back to the Slytherin common room without meeting anyone.  Once there, he looked for Nick in his room, and found the boy impatiently waiting on his bed.  The moment Joe walked in, the boy bolted up and ran to him.  “Did you get it?”  He asked excitedly.

  “Hold on.  Let’s see,” Joe said as he rummaged through his bag, “one bag of various items from Zonko’s and one bottle of Slavgaard’s Finest Fire Whiskey.”  Nick’s eyes lit up at the sight of it.

  “Wow!  You actually did it!  I mean, I really had my doubts, but I figured if anyone could do it, it’d be you, Joe!”  He made a grab for the bottle.

  “Hold on.” Joe said, holding the bottle out of reach.  “Before I give hand it over, a couple of things.  First, you tell me that you are absolutely not drinking this; that this is something you’re using to schmooze over the older students.”

  Joe stared closely at Nick as he answered.  “Sure, Joe.  I ain’t drinkin’ it.  Like I said before, my pap told me whiskey is a great way to lose all your money.”  Joe so no hint of deception.

  “Second, you will never, ever tell anyone who got this for you.”

  Nick’s slight grin broke into a big smile.  “Oh that’s easy, Joe!  If I told everyone where I got it, they’d just go to you for things instead of me.  We can be partners together in this; I’ll be the front man, and you be the silent partner.  Deal?”

  Well, it looked like Mr. Fargus might have got his first client in Hogwarts.  Of course, Joe wasn’t sure when he’d get another chance to go to Diagon Alley, but he’d worry about that later.  He lowered the bottle into Nick’s awaiting hands.  “I’ll think about it.”  He started to leave when he remembered he still had Nick’s purse.  Even worse, he hadn’t thought to take out some money for the whiskey and he really did not want to explain how he had gotten it for free.  He slowly reached into his bag, “Oh, almost forgot your money purse; not much left, but—“

  “Keep it!  Consider it a bonus for a job well done.”

  The day wasn’t going to get any better than this, thought Joe.  He was more or less right.

*          *          *

  Joe felt a little better going into the Halloween fest that night; he had a little adventure on his own that no one knew of, he earned a little extra money to offset the cost of his potion materials, he had thumbed his nose a little at Warrick, and it seemed Nick might be on limited speaking terms with him again.  That evening's meal was probably the best he had had in a while, even if he did share it alone.

  The castle faculty had gone all out with decorations—real bats flew through the air while carved pumpkins hovered overhead.  Once or twice, he could have sworn that the Stormcraft girl looked over his way, but he wasn't definitely sure.  One of these days, he needed to screw his courage up and talk to her.

  The great dinner ended with mounds of desserts and candies that the students greedily devoured.  Joe was already full from dinner, so he passed on the sweets and instead headed back to the Slytherin common room to do some thinking.

  Joe did a quick check of the points so far (he was progressing nicely, he thought) and then sat by the fireplace with one of his muggle notebooks, idly doodling as he thought.  He was just starting to believe that despite his beliefs, he was apparently doing well in all of his classes.  However, he wasn't doing much in the process of building lasting friendships.  What did Dumbledore say?  It takes two to be friends.  Well, he had tried everything he could think of to just that, but it appeared that no one else was willing to be his friend.  Mum always said that if you felt one way but everyone else disagreed with you, most likely something was wrong with your thinking.  Maybe his means of trying to be friends was the wrong way.  It was something to think about.

  So, who would he like to have as a friend?  He wrote down Neville's name, and after pausing a few seconds, wrote down Luna's as well.  She was an oddity, but for some reason, he admired her for it.  It was honest, even if it was a bit bizarre.  Lyseria was next; she seemed like a little sister he never had.  Joe thought hard about the rest of the first year Slytherins.  If he was really honest with himself, he could be done with all of them, however that would make for a very long and trying time at Hogwarts.  Sure, he probably would eventually skip ahead of them subject wise, but he really doubted students his own age would accept him any better.  They had started together; despite their feelings for one another, they were a group.

  As he mulled this thought over, his pen roamed across the paper with no apparent conscious effort.  For that reason, he was slightly surprised when he looked down and saw "Liana Stormcraft" written among the curliques.  That surprised him quite a bit.  He was a little interested in the girl he admitted to himself, but it was only because she seemed intent on him.  There wasn't much he knew about her other than she had called him a stupid foreigner.  Well, that, and she liked to blab to everyone about the train incident.  Still, why would he have subconsciously written her name?  Probably the night's feast had been a part of it—he did just see her after all.  That was it, nothing more.  He started to cross out her name, but at the last instant felt it would somehow be wrong to do so.  Instead, he focused on the names he had written at the top.

  Neville Longbottom.  Nice enough fellow, but seemed a little unsure of himself.  Draco seemed to know and despise him.  Did that mean that Neville was unsure of Joe because of Draco, sort of a guilt by association?  Well, the obvious place to catch Neville was in the library during the afternoons and evenings, spot him doing his homework and offer assistance.  He wouldn't object too much provided Joe actually knew what he was talking about, and it could actually help Joe in the long run by knowing what to expect in later years.

  Lyseria Edwards.  That was an easy one; she craved attention.  Joe had no idea what had happened in her life that made her feel like no one noticed her, but it was clear on her face that she longed to belong.  Thinking back to September, her happiest times seemed to be when the group was forced together in order to survive.  Now that the others were slowly pulling away from each other, Lyseria no doubt felt like she was being abandoned.  Sadly, her attempts to jump into conversations did little to encourage others to accept her.  Joe had met several people in the past who were just like that, so he felt he could endure a little mindless prattle.  Who knows, maybe if Lyseria was shown a little kindness, she wouldn't feel like she had to demand attention all the time.

  Joe slapped his head rather hard.  Of all the things to think of now—he had just spent time first in Hogsmeade, then in Diagon Alley, and he had made no attempt to pick up any magical games!  Yes, it was a stupid thing to worry about, but not having little trinkets like those were suspicious.  Everyone in the house had at least a wizard's chess set, or gobstones that squirt foul smelling liquid at inopportune times.  He had even made a note to pick up something small like that just to have to play with Lyseria and now he had no chance before Christmas to buy anything.  Well, there was no point in kicking himself for something he couldn’t change now.  He looked back at his list again.

  The first year students.  Here was a mix bag of people.  On the whole, just about all of them were self centered and vain.  Violet was obsessed with people’s looks, Anatolio was only concerned about money and power, Nicholas was scheming to make himself important, and Icarus, even though he did a better job than the rest, really only cared about people he felt was of the same social status as himself.  Tobias, Adolphus, Gretchen, and Adelie more or less kept quiet for the most part, but clearly felt he was not of the same class as they were, like he was uninitiated in some secret society.  It would be a hard nut to crack, Joe thought.  About the only things these kids respected was money, influence, and appearance of power; things Joe very much lacked.

  Just then, a few of the older Slytherins walked into the common room, distracting his line of thinking.  He almost got up to retreat to his bedroom to work out his thoughts, but mentally shook himself and made an effort to stay in this public area—he wanted to part of the house, and locking himself in his room would not help matters.  He looked back at his notebook.

  Luna Lovegood.  Probably the hardest one of all to manipulate because if he really was honest with himself, he didn’t want to do so.  She was so pure in character that it seemed like an obscenely dishonest thing to twist and pull the little emotional strings that he could see in people.  Even more so, she alone could probably see everything he did as clear as day.  No, this was one person that would have to be a genuine attempt at friendship—either it worked or it didn’t.

  His eyes strayed to the wandering lines he had drawn, and to the name that was buried within.  That was a very unexpected discovery for him.  Should he try talking to her or just leave things be?  He had a brief flash of memory of her walking down the corridor in the train, the long plait of her blond hair catching his eye as she said something to her friend.  He instantly shook himself out of his reverie.  This was stupid, he thought, closing his eyes.

  “Attention everyone!”  Joe turned to see Marcus Flint standing at the entrance.  “Everyone is to report back to the Great Hall immediately!”  A couple of folks started to ask what was going on, but Flint just brushed them away.  “That means now!  Move!”

  Joe quietly got up and did as he was told, shuffling behind people who were first to the doorway.  Many were speculating as to what was going on; he once thought he had heard something about yet another troll attack.  Then they arrived, he noticed that every other house was already there, the students equally confused by the order as he was.  Well, most of them seemed to be; the Gryffindors seemed more scared than confused.  Joe quietly migrated over to their group to hear what they were discussing.  Many times the words ‘black’ and ‘fat lady’ popped up but Joe couldn’t make a connection.  Was it possible this had something to do with his detour at Hogsmeade?  He didn’t meet any fat lady—an old one perhaps, but not a fat one.

  Headmaster Dumbledore strode in with a few of the other professors.  “The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle.  I’m afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here.  I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge.  Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately.”  He spoke to a freckly red-headed seventh year, “Send word with one of the ghosts.”

  Joe noticed that professors Flitwick and McGonagall had magically sealed all the side doors into the Great Hall as the headmaster made this announcement.  What in the world was going on?  Dumbledore started to leave the hall, but turned around once more and said, “Oh yes, you’ll be needing….” With a slight flick of his wand, all of the long tables were pushed to the sides of the hall, while another casual wave caused hundreds of fat purple sleeping bags to appear on the floor.

  “Sleep well,” Dumbledore said before he closed the doors behind him.

  Immediately people began to chatter with gossip as they picked up the bags and made places to sleep with their friends.  Joe frowned at the loud colored bag lying at his feet, but resigned to make the best of it. 

  “Everyone into their sleeping bags!” shouted the Head Boy—a Weasley from the looks of him, “Come on, now, no more talking!  Lights out in ten minutes.”

  Joe looked around for his little group of first year Slytherins.  A few were camping out together near the front door, but Violet, Anatolio, and Icarus had found a spot with some older students.  Joe decided to stay with the first group.

  Lyseria looked up at him with her typical pouting expression, but said nothing. 

  “Anyone know what’s going on?” asked Gretchen.

  A nearby Hufflepuff answered, “Black somehow got in and tried to attack Potter!”

  Lyseria and Adelie both looked at Joe and then turned back to the Hufflepuff.  “What are you talking about?  Black’s right here!  You accusing him of attacking Potter?!”

  The Hufflepuff waved them away with derision, “No, no, not that Black!  Sirius Black!  The nutter that broke out of Azkaban.”

  That had everyone nearby look up with alarm.  “Sirius Black is in here?”

  “How did he get in?”

  “Aren’t the dementors supposed to catch him?”

  The students nearby began to speculate where Black was now, and what he was doing inside the castle.  Most was centered around Harry Potter, presumably Sirius Black was dead set in killing him.  Joe held up a hand to quiet everyone.  “I thought I heard someone had been attacked.  Something about a fat lady.  Do you know any more?” he asked the Hufflepuff.

  “Yeah, Colin Creevy told me that he tore up a portrait somewhere in one of the towers.  Sounded like it was in the Gryffindor common room or somesuch.”

  Joe arched an eyebrow at the student.  “Why would Sirius Black come all this way to destroy a painting?”

  “Beats me.  Ask Colin if you see him.”

  “The lights are going out now!” the Head Boy announced.  “I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!”

  All the candles in the in the hall were immediately snuffed out.  In the darkness, Joe scrambled into his sleeping bag and settled down with the others.  For the most part, everyone quieted down to go to sleep, but occasionally he would hear whispered conversations between nearby students.  He just stared up, looking at the stars that were sprayed across the enchanted ceiling.  Occasionally a ghost or two would drift by, eerily lighting the darkened room.

  Just as he was drifting off to sleep, Joe heard a small sniffle off to his side.

  “Lyseria?” he whispered.

  Her dark outline shook a little.

  “Lyseria, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.  Leave me alone!” she tersely whispered back.  However, he could still hear the occasional stifled whimper from her.

  For once, Joe had no idea what to do and it scared him a little.  All the time he spent planning and now he was messing it up with Lyseria.  At a loss for words, he just laid there, staring up at the stars.

  “I don’t…”she hiccupped “like the dark.”

  “Why?”

  “Things hide in it.”

  Joe thought a bit before answering.  “I like the dark.  Things can’t find you in the dark.”

  He reached inside his bag that he had stuffed into the bottom of the sleeping bag and pulled out his wand.  “Lumos,” he whispered.  The tip barely lit up, but that was enough.  Lyseria wiped her eyes with a hand.  “Try to get some sleep.”

  Despite his advice to Lyseria, Joe found it very hard to follow it himself.  Every so often a teacher would walk in and check on the students and he found that disruptive.  Once, the Head Boy walked over and told him to douse his wand.  He looked over and saw that Lyseria was finally asleep, so he did as he was told.

  At one point, Headmaster Dumbledore walked back inside the hall and looked around. Finally he spotted the Head Boy and motioned him over.

  “Any sign of him, Professor?” the Head Boy asked.

  “No.  All well here?”

  “Everything under control, sir.”

  “Good.  There’s no point moving them all now.  I’ve found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole.  You’ll be able to move them back in tomorrow.”

  “And the Fat Lady, sir?”

  “Hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor.  Apparently she refused to let Black in without a password, so he attacked.  She’s still very distressed, but once she’s calmed down, I’ll have Mr. Filch restore her.”

  Just then, Professor Snape strode into the hall and walked over to Headmaster Dumbledore.  His back was turned to Joe and as he usually spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, Joe couldn’t hear a word he said.  Dumbledore responded, but since Snape was now between Joe and the headmaster, the words were muted; Joe managed to pick out the words, “Astronomy” and “Owlery” but that was about it.  Snape said something in return.  The tone of the conversation abruptly turned a little argumentative—although Snape raised his voice slightly, all Joe could make out was “Black” and “inside help.”

  Was Professor Snape accusing someone of helping Sirius Black enter the school?  Surely not.  Who on earth could have helped him inside besides a teacher?  And then Joe had his answer—two new teachers had joined Hogwarts this term; one of them was a former gameskeeper, so he was out, but the other was a totally new teacher.  Professor Lupin.  But once again, surely not.  Lupin had been one of the kindest teachers Joe had met so far, gave him his first house points and taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, and….

  But what if all of it was a sham?  No, it couldn’t be—Joe would have noticed right off the bat if Lupin was hiding something; he always could tell.  But Professor Snape and a few times Professor Sinistra did an excellent job of hiding their true feelings from him sometimes.  Could Lupin be using Occlumency as well?  No, it couldn’t be the case, no one could be that good a liar.  Then why was Snape so intent that someone was helping a serial killer into school?

  The only thing Joe could discern was that he was lacking a lot of information and that it would be pointless to speculate anything right now.  Besides, it had nothing to do with him, so he should just drop it.

  However, he reminded himself, some of the students (perhaps even some of the teachers as well) thought he was a relative of Sirius Black.  How would everyone react to him tomorrow?  Joe found it even harder to sleep after thinking that.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven

Grim Revelations

  It didn’t take long for Joe to find out how the castle’s attitude changed towards him.  The next morning during breakfast, he noticed just about every student that he hadn’t had a speaking relationship with, often avoided him.  They would go out of their way to walk as far away as possible from him, sometimes speaking in whispered tones to one another.  A lot of them were reeking of fear as well, something he tried very hard to lock out of his mind with the training Professor Snape had him work on during their night tutoring sessions.  It helped, but only somewhat.

  Worse still, the weather turned for the worst, and the beginning of November was turning into nonstop rainstorms.  With students forced to stay inside, Joe’s only refuge was either his room or the library.  Even the library was turning into a last resort what with all the people stationing themselves there to study.  Joe had thought it would be a good place to meet with Neville and put his plans into action, but he had been thwarted by that one Gryffindor girl—Hermione Granger her name was—as Neville found her to be a more appropriate tutor than he.  Furthermore, it seemed that the Granger girl was constantly inside the library at all hours and always scowled at him whenever she could, like it was his fault for the night of the Halloween feast. 

  So for the most part, Joe kept to himself in his own room.  Wasn’t all that bad, really.  By this time, he had managed to turn the empty space into a comfortable study along with a working laboratory where he practiced making the first year potions he would not be able to make in class as well as attempting some of the more difficult second year potions as well.  So far, everything seemed to brew perfectly, but seeing as how he refused to test the potions on himself, he had to resort to compare the physical descriptions of the results to what the books claimed they should look like.  Still, it was an interesting hobby.

About the only interaction he had now with people was with Luna and occasionally Lyseria.  The plan for Lyseria was shaping nicely.  As he had expected, she craved attention from others, and as such, made it a tradition of meeting with her before breakfast for game playing or simply talking.  Once, he showed her how to fold paper into the shapes of animals and flowers and thereafter would present to her a new item that she would marvel over.  She in turn astounded him one day when she showed him how to make the bird figures fly like real creatures.  By now, Lyseria rarely ever had that sullen look on her face when she first arrived, but Joe still noticed that whenever Adelie or Violet turned up, she would desert him.  So much for close friendship.

  Luna on the other hand was turning out to be a joy to be near.  Yes, she was odd, and yes, she spoke of strange ideas or made outlandish observations, but after the initial shock wore off, he found it to be quite amusing at times.  When he was listening to her, he could forget everything that was happening around school and just enjoy her company.  She might be a nutjob, but she was his nutjob.

  One day, he even forgot to guard his tongue and accidentally let slip, “Do you know Liana Stormcraft?”  What on earth had brought that up?

  “Oh yes, she’s a first year Ravenclaw.  I like her long plait of hair, but it attracts nargles.  She likes you I think.”

  “What?” Joe blurted out in shock.

  “Oh, she tells everyone that she doesn’t but I think she has a bit of hero worship for you, after the train ride to Hogwarts.  Would you like me to put in a good word for you?”

  His cheeks burned a little in embarrassment.  “No thank you.”

  “Oh so you like her too.  That’s nice.”  He blushed again.  Did he really have an interest in Liana Stormcraft?  Maybe Luna knew something he refused to acknowledge.  It made him once more glad that he wasn’t trying to trick her into friendship; she could read him like an open book sometimes.

  By the second week of November, students began to get excited about the first Quidditch match of the term.  It normally would have been between Slytherin and Gryffindor, but Draco still complained of having problems with his injured arm, and thus the headmaster agreed to reschedule the match to be between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.  Joe seriously doubted that Draco’s arm was still injured, but looking at the nasty weather outside, it was no wonder why he wanted to delay their match against Gryffindor.  Joe thought surely that the school would move the weekend’s game to a different day considering the torrential rain outside, but he soon found out that nothing stopped Quidditch.

  Saturday came and as he was expected to attend, Joe marched out with the rest of the Slytherins to the Quidditch field.  The weather was worse than the day before, now with flashes of lightning to briefly illuminate the dark rainy sky.  Joe just shook his head in disbelief as he huddled close to the others as they made their way through the muddy path.

  The stadium itself wasn’t much better.  Here, he had expected the spectators to be sheltered from the elements, but no, everyone was expected to brave the storm like the players.  Through the howl of the storm and the cheering of the crowd, Joe could barely make out game’s announcer calling for the start of the match.  He soon lost the flyers in the rain swept storm and had no idea what was going on.  There were a few poles at the ends of the fields, and it looked like the players were supposed to through an odd shaped ball through the hoops on top of the poles, but that was about all he could make out.

  The day got darker as the game went on, and thirty minutes into the match, Joe could hardly see any of the players unless they zoomed directly in front of his stand.  At one point, he heard a score of eighty to thirty, but couldn’t tell who was winning.  After what seemed like an hour of mindless watching, he finally gave it up and politely excused himself to the bathroom.

  Instead, he decided he’d much rather just go back to the castle.  He was wet, cold, and feeling a little annoyed with the whole deal.  What was the point of watching a game you couldn’t even see?  Useless.

  Just as he was about to walk outside, he heard someone call to him.

  “Hey!  Where do you think you’re going?”

  Turning around, he saw one of his least favorite people, Cecil Warrick, along with a few other fifth year Slytherins.  One of them made to hide something behind his back.

  “I’m going to the castle to dry out and get warm.  This game is pointless.”

  A couple of them laughed with one another.

  “What, you don’t like Quidditch?  Too beneath you, what with all your studies?” Warrick jeered.

  “Considering our team isn’t playing, yes.”  Joe turned back around to go head outside once more.  He figured none of them would follow him into the rain if he made it that far.

  “Hey, Black, you don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you!  Maybe I should report you to Snape, about how you’re attitude.”  One of the others snickered a little.

  “Fine.  Perhaps he would also be interested in your lot hiding out here drinking whiskey.”  Joe was guessing at that last part, but sure enough, all of them froze for a moment.  It gave him a couple of seconds to make it to the exit but he heard footsteps running towards him and he turned just as Warrick grabbed the front of his robes.  At this distance, it was obvious the boy had been drinking, so too did Joe notice that Warrick wasn’t all that much taller than he was.

  “Listen you little squib, you breathe one word to anyone abou—“

  Warrick was stopped mid-sentence by the dreaded sensation of cold drenching the hallway as everyone felt the weight of sheer despair.  Warrick let go of him and tried to flee towards his friends, but only made it halfway before his knees buckled and he staggered to the ground.  Joe’s knees wanted to collapse as well, but he forced himself to stand up straight, unwilling to show an ounce of weakness in front of the bully.  He turned around and sure enough, a dementor had silently wafted inside through the archway.  Joe backed up against the stone walls, willing the black figure to pass him by.  It seemed a little confused, like it wanted to continue to float into the stadium, but then it would hover back towards Joe as if it had found something of interest here that distracted it.

  Fear washed throughout Joe’s body as the thing hovered ever closer to him.  He distantly heard screams of panic outside in the stadium.  The dementor kept wavering in its decision of whether to go inside to the stadium or to stand here next to Joe.

   Joe instinctively reached inside his bag, fumbling for his wand.  Deep down, he knew that he had no way of driving the thing off with magic, but in his panic, he searched for anything that could comfort. 

  At the slightest contact of his wand, resolve stiffened his nerve.  Fear washed away and was replaced by annoyance.  This was getting to be absurd, these disgusting foul creatures running around with no supervision.  No, he wasn’t annoyed; he was getting angry with the whole situation.  Pulling his wand out, he pointed it at the dementor and yelled, “Be gone!”

  It hovered in place, as if it was unsure what to do, and apparently looked around despite its hooded face. 

  “I am getting tired of this!  Beat it!”

  Something dark oozed out of Joe’s wand and formed tiny tendrils of black smoke that spread out before him.  The dementor backed away as it did.

  Feeling a little bolder, Joe yelled once more.  “I told you to get lost!”

  Just as he was wondering if he could actually make it leave, a bright white figure of a bird with long flowing tail feathers flew through the hallway, punching the dementor outside.  In that instance, the black smoke issuing from Joe’s wand vanished without a trace.  The coldness and despair fled from him, being replaced with nausea.  He ran outside and managed to get off the path before he heaved the contents of breakfast onto the wet grass.  He wiped his mouth clean and breathed in the damp clean air.  It was a little scary to imagine all that rage pent up inside him and it made him sick to his stomach.

  Just then, Headmaster Dumbledore quickly strode by, obviously heading to the castle, a litter silently floating before him.  The headmaster was in an obvious rage himself, most likely at what Joe presumed was a horde of dementors entering the stadium.  People trickled out of the field, hurryingly running after Dumbledore.  Joe chanced a look at the stretcher, wondering who it was laying on it.  It seemed to be one of the Gryffindor players, but he couldn’t tell who.  Worse still, the person looked very pale and for brief instance, Joe wondered if he was still alive.  More students emerged from the stadium, soon it became a flood, and Joe was lost among them as he ran for the shelter of the castle.

  The panic finally dissolved in his mind, and Joe began to look around at the mob of people frantically racing for the castle’s entrance.  A few of the smaller students were being knocked down by the flood of students and were in danger of being trampled underfoot.  He stopped his mad rush to the doors and instead began to help them up, making sure that they could manage to walk unaided.  Occasionally, if he saw someone wearing the same colors as the student, he would grab that person and force him or her to take the hand of the younger student and help them inside.  At first they would refuse, but once he got past their blind panic, they would see what he was doing and accept the small hand thrust into their care and walk a little slower, their charge in tow.

  Soon, he saw teachers taking control of the situation, forcing order into that chaos and bringing the mad rush to a more controlled retreat.  Letting the teachers take over, he stopped to think about his own group of first years.  He couldn’t remember seeing any of them.  He began to head back to the Quidditch field but was stopped by Professor Sinistra.

  “Joe!  The headmaster has ordered everyone to the castle.  You can’t go back!”

  “But the first year Slytherins!  I haven’t seen them anywhere!”

  “No one is back there; I and Professor Flitwick checked before herding the students to the castle.  They’re probably somewhere up ahead.”  She wasn’t taking no for an answer, so he resigned himself to follow the rest of them.  Hopefully everyone would be in the common room.

  What seemed like hours later, Joe finally reached Slytherin’s common room and found the entire house sitting around the hearth, doing whatever they could to warm themselves and to forget the awful day.  Even Warrick didn’t seem in the mood to belittle him.  Over in a corner, the small group of first years sat huddled, ignored by everyone else.  They looked devastated, like they had been in a battle or worse.  Joe had a flash of inspiration, and ran to the study room he liked to use.

  “Nobby!  Are you in here?  Please say you are!”

  There was a quiet pop, and from behind one of the desks, Nobby appeared, his peacock feather duster in hand.  “Does the young master need Nobby’s assistance?”

  “Thank goodness you’re here!  Nobby, the whole house needs chocolate.  Can you fetch us some from the kitchens?  Any kind will do, I think.”

  “Certainly, young master,” and with another pop, the house elf disappeared.  Seconds later, he popped back into the room, laden with a tray of baker’s chocolate.

  Joe grabbed the whole tray.  “Thank you, Nobby.  You’ve been a big help.”

  He returned to the common room and began breaking blocks off a bar, encouraging each person to eat it.  Most were slow to do so, but after a while the students began to feel a little better and began to eat in earnest.  A few asked for seconds.  Once everyone else had eaten a square, Joe himself bit into a small block, wondering if he could hold it down.  He was rewarded with a warm sensation that spread throughout his body, dispelling the cold feeling.

  A few minutes later, Professor Snape walked into the common room and started to say something, but stopped and instead looked at everyone munching on the pilfered chocolate.  “Where did you get that?” he asked quietly.  A few of the students pointed at Joe, who turned to stand before Snape, head down, hands folded before him.

  “And you just happened to have a large stash of chocolate on you?”  Snape asked in a barely audible voice.

  “No sir.  I asked a house elf to fetch me some from the kitchens.  I remembered Professor Lupin saying that chocolate is a good remedy for those suffering from a dementor attack.”

  Snape stared at him for a few seconds, his face unreadable.  “I will take that back to the kitchen where it belongs.” Snape finally said, picking up the empty tray where Joe had left it.  “Mr. Black, that will be fifty points.”

  Joe started to protest but at the last instant, remembered to keep his mouth shut and instead, nodded mutely.

  Snape walked back to the entry, pausing to say to all of them, “Professor Dumbledore wants everyone to eat lunch in the Great Hall starting at noon.  I expect everyone to be there promptly.” And then he left.

Joe’s shoulders sagged as he sat down, the rest of his chocolate forgotten.  No matter what he tried, it seemed like everyone was out to make him suffer.  What was it his mum would sometimes say?  No good deed goes unpunished?  Something like that.  Did he even have fifty points to lose?  He doubted it.  Resignedly, he got back up to check on how the first years were doing.

  Everyone seemed to be in better spirits, if not the best of them.  At least they were feeling well enough to talk.  When he approached, Anatolio glanced up and with a slight look of disgust, got up to sit with some of his older friends.  Lyseria and Adelie at least hesitantly smiled at him.

  “Is everyone feeling better?”  They all nodded.  “Exactly what happened?  I was down under the stadium, looking for the restrooms when all hell broke loose.”  Lyseria actually gasped at his use of “hell.”

  Icarus cleared his throat, “Well, right after Gryffindor scored another goal, a swarm of dementors flew in over the crowds and everyone sort of panicked.  Professor Dumbledore shot some light out them to chase them away.  After that, there was a run for the exits.” He grinned a little at his weak joke.

  “Dumbledore had a player on a stretcher when he left.” Joe said, hoping to glean a little more.

  “Sorry, I didn’t see that part,” Icarus responded.

  “I did,” Tobias said quietly.  “It was the Potter boy, the one Draco hates so much.  Four of five of ‘em swarmed him while he was flying after the Snitch.  He fell off his broom.  Must have fallen a hundred feet or more.”

  Adelie gasped a little at this pronouncement.  Even Tobias seemed a little whiter than before.  Joe wondered if the boy could have survived a fall like that.  Granted, the rain softened the ground fairly well, but if Tobias was truthful, Joe wasn’t sure anyone could fall a hundred feet and live, even if it was onto soggy ground.

  “I guess we’ll find out during lunch if he survived.  I hope he’s alright.”  All of them looked sharply at him.  He just stared back at them, looking at each one of them in turn.  “No one should die like that.”  One by one, they turned away, and a few murmured agreement.  He sat down with them and sighed.

  “Also, I’m sorry I messed up and cost us fifty points.  I thought I was doing something right.”

  Violet arched an eyebrow at him, “What are you talking about?”

  “The fifty points Snape penalized me just now.” He responded to her in a slow, level voice.

  She sighed in exasperation.  “You idiot!  You just got fifty points!  Don’t believe me, check the board.”  Joe quickly looked at the points tally and sure enough, he was ahead fifty points, not down fifty.

  “So why did Anatolio leave in a huff?  I thought he was angry at me for costing the house a lot of points.”

  Violet snorted a little.  “You are an idiot.  He’s just mad because you just surpassed him in points.  Means you get the best room, and he’s irate about it.”

  Joe hadn’t thought about that.  “Well, if it’d make him feel better, I don’t want it.  I have my own room set up as I like it and prefer to stay there.”

  The others just stared at him in disbelief.  Icarus just muttered, “You might want to look at it before you say that.”

  “No, I’m serious.  Besides, you’ve seen Warrick; do you honestly think he’d let me move in? Forget it.  I’d rather stay where I am.  I dare say I have more room there anyway.”  They just shook their heads as if he was crazy.

  When they went to lunch, sure enough, Headmaster Dumbledore informed everyone that Harry Potter was indeed posted in the infirmary, but that he was alive and should be able to attend classes Monday.  In addition, the headmaster stressed once more how dangerous dementors were and that everyone should stay away from their area of patrol.  Something in the way how he said that made Joe think that the dementors would soon be sent back to Azkaban if Dumbledore had any say in the matter.

  Joe did learn that Hufflepuff actually won the match—apparently their Seeker (whatever that was) had caught the Snitch (again, whatever that was) and ended the game just before Potter was attacked.  He heard the Hufflepuff captain wanted to have the game voided and schedule a rematch, but that the Gryffindor captain declined saying it was a fair win.  Either way, the Slytherin table was happy with the outcome; Gryffindor losing to what many Slytherins said was an inferior team was a huge boost in Slytherin keeping the cup.  Joe was a little disgusted at the fact that they were more concerned about a sporting trophy than they were that one of students was almost killed in the very game they talked about.  He ate his lunch quickly and went back to the common room.

  Just as he figured, Draco made the astounding announcement that he was completely healed of his injuries Monday morning, and made great use of his arms imitating Harry Potter falling off his broom or moaning like a dementor whenever the boy walked by.  Potter’s usual group kept silent at the provocation, but typically scowled at Draco as they passed by.  The Granger girl gave Joe a dark look as well, as if he had some involvement with the whole affair.

  November passed by with minimal problems.  His mum wrote to him on a regular basis and mentioned she was eagerly awaiting his return for Christmas holidays when she sent him a small bag of wizard money for his birthday.  He wondered what he could do for shopping before then returned home and was pleasantly surprised to see that there was another Hogsmeade trip the day before the end of term.  Hopefully he could find something a little magical for his mum but nothing so outlandish that she would be uncomfortable using it.  He’d see.  Plus, he decided, he probably should pick up a few things for the people he had on his list—Lyseria obviously, Luna of course, and Neville.  He briefly wondered if he should do something for the other first years as well.  Probably should; that way no one would be affronted to see one or two of them getting a present, but not the others.  Still, he would have to be very frugal with his budget.

  At the end of November, he watched his first Quidditch match with no rain or dementors.  Ravenclaw defeated Hufflepuff, much to the dismay of his fellow Slytherins.  Had it gone otherwise, Gryffindor would definitely be out of the running for the cup, but now there was a slim chance they could pull it off if they managed to beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin by a large margin.  However, the Slytherin team didn’t seem worried.  Indeed, Flint and Draco seemed to have some shared secret they refused to tell anyone.  In the very least, Joe now had an inkling of how the game was played and actually enjoyed himself as he watched.  Still, he had no plans of getting on a broomstick and playing.

  During all this time, Joe wondered exactly what had happened to him during the first match.  The way how he somehow confused the one dementor until Headmaster Dumbledore drove it off could be quite useful, but he was uncertain if he should mention it to anyone.  The darkness of mist that issued from his wand seemed somehow—wrong.  He did find one way to ask Professor Lupin about it in an indirect way, but the teacher was at a loss.  The only counter measure he knew of for sure was the Patronus charm, but his description of the spell didn’t seem like what Joe was doing.  Joe had an idea Professor Flitwick would know, but Joe had no desire to ask him.  Instead, he frequented the library, hoping to find something within a book.

  Two weeks of research revealed nothing.  He even asked the librarian, Madam Pince, but she was disinclined to help, stating the books most likely to cover his subjects (dementors and bone wands) were located in the restricted section and thus out of bounds.  Several times, he tried to formulate a plan to enter the restricted section without permission, but the place was too well guarded.  Finally, two days before Christmas holidays, he plucked up enough nerve to ask Professor McGonagall for assistance.  Explaining his problem in as little detail as possible, he asked for permission to research in the restricted section.  Professor McGonagall eyed him suspiciously, but surprisingly gave him a signed permission slip.  Madam Pince was not happy.

  A few hours of research told him a little more than he wished to know.  He sat there stunned, not really wishing to read any more, but unable to tear himself away from the books he read.  The whole topic of bone wands was horrifying—why didn’t Flitwick say anything beforehand?  Flitwick!  Joe glanced up at the magical hourglass that was suspended in the middle of the ceiling; he had about ten minutes before he had to be at his charms tutoring.  He quickly packed his bag and shelved the books he had borrowed from the restricted section.

  Joe entered Professor Flitwick’s office panting for breath.  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.

  Flitwick put down a book he had been reading.  “I beg your pardon, Mr. Black?”

  “This wand!” he brandished it before the little teacher before he slammed it down on Flitwick’s desk.  “You never mentioned how it was made!  This is dark magic!  In order to be constructed, the bone would have to be ripped out if its victim while he was still alive!  Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Flitwick had the courtesy to look embarrassed.  “Yes, you are correct, Joe.”  He sighed a little, thinking how to proceed.  “Most likely, the witch who created that wand removed it from the, uh, ‘donor’ while he was still alive.  Even more so, with the core being human heartstring, it is possible that the core was uh, 'harvested' after the person had died, but for a truly powerful wand, it would be best if it could be taken while the host was still alive.  Needless to say, this is one of the reasons why these wands are so rare; obviously it is against magical law to create them."

  Joe was fighting hard not to get sick.  To think what he had been using in class had be taken from a living human being.  No, far worse, the maker had taken it from a loved one.  What sort of sick individual would do such a thing?  Ollivander mentioned something about revenge, but what would drive a woman to torture some man by carving out one of his forearm bones and then dig out his beating heart to create such a monstrosity?

  "You can keep it, sir.  I don't want it."

  Flitwick gave him a knowing grin.  "I understand your feelings, Mr. Black.  It does seem to have a very horrible story to it.  However, bone wands are prized for their healing properties.  I know several healers who would give their right arm—figuratively speaking that is—to have one.  I believe you were given a very special gift because Mr. Ollivander saw something unique inside you.  For that reason, I do not think you should toss it aside so casually."

  Joe merely stared at the horrid thing, his arms tightly crossed around his chest.  “First, you tell me I’m carrying around my forearm in my hand, and now I’m supposed to happy knowing how it was made.  I’m sorry Professor, but you are grossly mistaken if you believe I could be so blasé about it.  I definitely don’t want it!  You seem so infatuated with it, keep it!”

  Flitwick’s smile faltered a little.  He picked up the wand and rolled it between his fingers; once more, it shrank in size.  “I understand your reticence, Mr. Black, believe me, I do.  It is a lot of information to accept in such a short time.  But I must stress that this is not some horrible, dark-magic artifact,” Flitwick looked back at him, offering the wand to him like it was the holy grail itself,  “This is a very precious gift, Joe.  You shouldn’t so blithely discard it out of hand.”

  Still Joe made no move to take it back.  Flitwick eventually gave up, sighing.

  “I’m afraid we can not do any more lessons if you refuse to wield your wand.  Tonight seems to be a complete loss anyway.  Mr. Black, I want you to seriously reconsider your opinions of this wand.  The holidays are coming up; I would suggest you think hard about your decision during that time.  Your case, please.”

  Joe had to think for a few seconds before he understood what Professor Flitwick wanted.  He felt through his travelling bag, and finally pulled out the wand’s wooden box.  Professor Flitwick gently laid the wand on the velvet cushion.  As he did so, the short length of bone grew into its familiar length and slightly darkened in color. Professor Flitwick stared at the wand for a moment and then closed the box.  “I hope this will make it agreeable to take?”  He said, handing the box to Joe.  Joe hesitantly took the box like it held a live snake within, and cautiously returned it to the bag.

  “Very well then, Mr. Black.  You may go.  And may you have a Happy Christmas.”

  The last day of classes did not go well; both Professor Lupin and Professor McGonagall were little dismayed that he refused to do any practical wand work.  Lupin merely suggested to the entire class that perhaps it was time for a little breather, and for the rest of the class time, entertained them with bits of flashy charm-work.  McGonagall was less understanding and assigned him homework over the holidays and even deducted five points.  He tried to protest by saying, “I know what this is now and I don’t want it!” but she was resolute with her punishment.  The rest of the class was curious about his outburst, but he was unwilling to explain it to them.

  The next day was the trip to Hogsmeade.  Even though he really didn’t feel like going, he forced himself to do so anyway if for no other reason than he needed to buy presents for people.  For Lyseria, he actually found colored rice paper for origami folding.  Or rather, it was plain white until you folded it into a shape and then it somehow knew what color would best represent the figure.  No doubt she would be happy.  He spied a couple nice pins in a thrift store—a purple flower for Violet, and a penguin for Adelie.  He wondered if Adelie would get it.  Gretchen would be the proud new owner of a cap that would change colors to fit her mood.  Tobias would receive a new set of gobstones—he picked those because he knew Tobias had just recently joined the club at school.  The rest of the boys were a little more difficult to buy for because he had no idea what their personalities were like, so he opted on candies from a store called Honeydukes.  No doubt they would be at least a little thankful considering they were not allowed to go to Hogsmeade.

  The item for his mother was purely serendipitous.  In a small stall next to the Three Broomsticks, an old witch was selling hand-knitted items for the holidays.  Joe at first thought nothing of it, until the lady showed him one sweater that when pulled inside out, completely changed into a new color.  She guaranteed it to change twenty times before returning to the beginning color and that it would fit anyone, no matter the size.  It was pricey, but exactly what he was looking for—something utilitarian and slightly magical, but nothing outrageously so.  So, he willingly handed over the sickles as she wrapped it up for him.

  Luna and Neville were perhaps the hardest ones to shop for.  Luna, well, if he could find something unusual, not doubt she would be happy, but he had no idea what she would define as ‘unusual.’  Neville, he had no clue.  He even wondered if he should even bother finding something for the boy, considering how little time they had spent together.

  By the afternoon, he discovered nothing that caught his eye, and finally sat down on a sidewalk bench to rest.  He would have liked to get something to drink inside the Three Broomsticks, but after all of his shopping, he was a little reluctant to spend any more money.  Just as he thought he would return to his room and pack for the trip home, he remembered his trip to Diagon Alley last time.  He really needed to talk to Mr. Ollivander and he really doubted that he would have any time to himself during the holidays.  Maybe now was a good time as any to visit the old wand maker.  He got up and dusted the falling snow off his robes and went inside the pub.

  The place was jam packed with people, and worse still, many of the professors had apparently decided to visit before the end of term.  They were casually talking amongst themselves, and (he hoped) not paying attention to any of the students.  Once more, he swiped a good handful of floo powder and hastily retreated outside.

  The Hog’s Head hadn’t changed much since his last visit, and once more the barkeep scowled at him as he nodded to the man before throwing a small amount of the green powder into the fireplace and stated, “Diagon Alley” before stepping into the blaze.  This time the sensation wasn’t as disturbing as he whisked through the various chimneys.  Soon, he was standing once more on the familiar street so near his very home.

  Joe took a second to orient himself, and then headed towards the wand maker’s store.  Once inside, he was greeted by the elderly man.  “Ah, Mr. Black!  So nice to see you again.  I trust you are doing well?”

  “Yes sir, studies are hard, but I believe I’m doing fine in them.  How is your business?”

  “Currently slow.  I typically have a huge rush in August, but the rest of the year is only the occasional repair or replacement.  Most of my business is school related as you well know.  Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be there now?”

  “I’ve had an early release,” he lied.  “Actually, Mr. Ollivander, I’m here for business.”  Mr. Ollivander raised a questioning eyebrow as Joe removed the wand box from his bag.  “Sir, I really do appreciate your gift to me, however I cannot accept it in good conscience.  If you would be so kind, I would like to purchase another wand.”

  Ollivander’s shoulders sagged a little.  “I see.  If you are having difficulty performing magic with it—“

  “No sir.  I did have some trouble in the beginning, but I believe I’ve worked that out.  No sir, it’s just that I’ve done a little digging in the school’s library and….”

  “And you’ve found its origin in the Les Necromagick Portente.”  Mr. Ollivander stared at him for a long while before resuming.  “Mr. Black, I was about to have some tea; would you care to join me?”

  Joe wasn’t sure where this was going, but by now he was getting a little hungry so he agreed.  They sat in silence as the wand maker went through the motions of pouring the hot water into two cups, steeping the tea leaves while he fussed around for a few biscuits.  When he was done and the two had a sip or two, he motioned at the stacks of narrow boxes that lined the walls.  “Do you see that?  That is the accumulation over the years of twelve thousand, seven hundred and sixty-four wands.  Next year, I expect it to be closer to thirteen thousand.  Why do you suppose I have so many wands stored here when I only sell at most, two hundred?”

  Joe felt that Mr. Ollivander was seriously asking him the question rather than being rhetorical.  He looked at all of them for a moment before answering.  “Because the wand chooses the wizard?”

  The old man sat back in his seat, grinning appreciatively.  “Precisely.  I spend a great deal time and energy crafting my wands, selecting only the best materials, painstakingly molding them into fine instruments of magic use.  Just before you walked in, I was struggling with the right length of hawthorn for this fine phoenix feather I have just gathered.  No, no; you’re not interrupting my work—I needed the break from it to clear my head.

  “Now then, after all that effort that I put into each and every wand, I am lucky if a handful of them will be selected next year.  Most likely, one of these that have sat here for decades will instead be selected.  A few have even lain dormant for centuries.  No matter.  Each and everyone will eventually find the one wizard or witch for whom it was destined to be with.”

  Joe looked back at the stack of wands before him, trying to understand exactly what Mr. Ollivander was trying to tell him.  “So none of these wands will work for me, then?”

  “Oh, I’m sure I could find one that would work adequately well enough, but the point is, you have been selected by this one unusual wand; no other will select you.”

  “But why?  Why me?” Joe said in exasperation.

  “Why not you?  Why did a sword allow a mere boy to pull it from a stone? I could expend an enormous amount of effort in studying just you, your habits, your likes and dislikes, roam the world in search of the most precise materials that would befit your nature and still there is a chance it would not select you.  Indeed, it may even reject you and you wouldn’t even be able to perform the most basic spell.  Each wand has its own unique personality, and it wants to find a kindred soul.”

  Joe looked hard into the man’s eyes at this.  “So I am the kind of person who would torture and murder people for power?  Is that what the wand sees?”

  Mr. Ollivander jumped up from his chair.  “No!  Again I tell you, no!  You read too much into ‘Les Necromagick Portente’!  Do you think Mungo Bonham a foul murderer when he fashioned a wand from his dear wife?  No, in despair over her death, he did what he could to find the magic that would enable him to find a cure for sprangfrox, so that no one else would have to suffer from it.  No, do not place yourself with the likes of Grindelwald or You-Know-Who just because you were selected by a bone wand.  It chose you for a reason and a good reason.  I know it.”

  Ollivander collected the teapot and cups.  “It was a pleasant respite and I look forward to seeing you in the future, but I really must be getting back to work.  The wand is yours and only yours.  Good day, Mr. Black.”  Joe stood up as the old man gathered the dishes of the afternoon tea and started to walk to the back of the store.  He knew the old man was holding back something, but he knew he was pressing his luck to demand what it was.  Instead, he tried something completely different.

  “I’ve held back two dementor attacks with this wand.  A bit odd for a first year student, wouldn’t you say?”

  Mr. Ollivander stopped in the middle of the doorway but did not turn around.  “Managed a patronus already?  Simply amazing.”

  “No sir.  Not a patronus.  Not sure exactly what it was; something black and spidery.”

  Mr. Ollivander swayed just a little.  “That is…regrettable.”  And without another word, disappeared into the back room.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve

Christmas Vacation

  The next day, Joe dressed for the trip home and slung his travelling bag over his shoulder, his entire belongings carefully packed inside the night before.  He didn’t recall much of his trip back to the castle; his thoughts in turmoil over the wand he carried deep inside his bag and what it meant specifically to him.  He was frightened of it, and angry that no one would listen to him.  One point during the night, he briefly thought of requesting a visit with Headmaster Dumbledore to open up his heart to him, but he wondered if maybe Dumbledore had merely passed the responsibility of informing him of the wand’s dark nature to Flitwick instead.  Currently, he had no one of authority here that he really trusted.  Maybe it was just as well he was going home for the Christmas holidays.

  Outside in the common room, he spied a few of the first years preparing to leave as well, and so he decided to give them all their Christmas presents now.  Most were surprised by the exchange; none of them had a gift to give in return.  It was okay though, he figured none of them would have as thoughtful.  Some of them at least the decency to look a little embarrassed by the situation.

  “Where’s Lyseria?” he asked, noticing that she wasn’t anywhere to be found.

  “She’s still in her room I think,” Adelie answered.  “I think she’s upset because she’s having to stay here for the break.”

  Joe didn’t think anyone would be staying for Christmas holiday.  Why would her parents have her stay here?  “Well, all the more reason that she should join us for breakfast.  Go fetch her if you don’t mind.”

  Adelie looked like she was about to protest, but changed her mind and went to go find the girl.  A few minutes later, she returned empty-handed.  “She says she doesn’t want to come out.”

  “Did you mention that I have a Christmas gift for her?”

  “Yes.  She said she didn’t want it.”

  “Oh for goodness sakes!  Could you take me to her room then?”  Joe’s attitude was still unsettled from the day before.  He was half inclined to just leave, but felt he should at least make some attempt to make Lyseria feel a little better about being left behind.

  Adelie escorted him to a small room located close to the flight of stairs the girls always came down in the morning.  He peered around at the interior as he walked in.  It was nicely decorated in green and silver with a few personal items strewn about.  A sizeable bed was placed against one wall opposite a small fireplace.  Lyseria was lying face down on her bed, silently crying.

  “Lyseria,” Joe said quietly, “I have a Christmas present that I wanted to give you before I left.”

  “I don’t want it!” she yelled, her voice muffled by the down comforter.

  “Well, since I went to a great deal of time and effort to find it for you, I will just leave it here on the mantle.  Would you like me to write to you over the holiday?”

  “No!”

  Joe had to resist yelling at her by this point.  He really wanted to tell her to stop acting like a petulant child, but he had to keep reminding himself that she was only eleven. No doubt this was very hard on her and he really didn’t want to make it worse.  He took a deep breath before he continued.  “Well, I will write anyway.  If you want, you can write back—might be fun having a pen pal for a few weeks.  Anyway, I hope you have a very happy Christmas, Lyseria.”

  He and Adelie walked back to the common room.

  “Is she coming?” Violet asked.

  “No.  I think we should let her have some time to herself.  Do you think you all could write to her while away?  I think she would appreciate a letter or two.”  Violet of course rolled her eyes but nodded agreement.  The others gave non-committal grunts.

  During their last meal before leaving, Joe pulled out a small sheet of origami paper and wrote a short note to Lyseria.  He then folded it into one of the secret envelopes he had shown her before and then headed to the owlery.  There, he waited for one of the brown school owls to notice him.  It flew down to a perch and looked at him with eyes that seemed to say, “What now?”

  “Listen.  This is an odd request, I know, but I was wondering if you could deliver this note tomorrow morning.  See, it’s addressed to Lyseria Edwards, but she’s staying here in the castle over the holidays.  Yes, I know I could just hand it to her personally, but she’s feeling a little sad because she has to stay here.  I was hoping receiving a note when everyone else was gone would make her feel better.  Could you do that?”

  The owl looked at him with its bright, unblinking eyes for a long while and Joe thought that maybe he was being a little foolish thinking an owl could understand him, but just as he started to give up on the whole affair, the owl clicked its beak at him and held out a leg that had a leather strap tied around it.

  “Thank you!” he fervently said, and attached the note to the leather thong.  The owl flew back up to its spot among the rafters and settled to sleep.

  He joined the rest as they marched outside of the castle’s main doors.

  “Where have you been?” Icarus asked.

  “Just had an errand to do before we left.”  Icarus looked at him funny, but said nothing.  “So, how do we get to the train station?  Not by boats I hope.”

  “That’s just for the new students,” Anatolio snapped.  “We’ll take the carriages like everyone else.”  The carriages in question were of the old horse drawn type but there were no apparent horses to pull them.  More magic he supposed.  Just then, he spied Luna in front of one of the carriages, seemingly petting an invisible creature as she crooned to thin air.

  “What in the world is she doing?” Anatolio snapped once more.

  Joe just laughed a little.  “No telling with Luna.”

  “She looks completely mental!” Anatolio tersely whispered as they passed by.  Most of the others laughed while Tobias just turned to face away from her.

  “Oh, hello Joe!  Would you like to pet one too?” Luna said when she saw him.  He stopped short, unsure what to say.

  “Uhmm, Luna, I don’t know how to say this, but there’s nothing there.”  The rest of the Slytherins laughed at him and continued walking to a couple of empty carriages.

  “Well, if that’s true, then what pulls the carriages?” she responded in her ethereal voice.

  “Well, I had just assumed some sort of magical charm.”

  She laughed a little.  “But that would mean someone would have to be guiding the carriages.  Here, hold out your hand.”

  Hesitantly he held out an open palm to the place where Luna stood petting the air.  She gently took his hand and moved it a little to one side.  There he was astounded that he actually felt something; it was leathery, reptilian but warm.  He gasped a little in shock.

  “No need to be scared.  They’re quite gentle.”

  He hesitantly stroked the hide of whatever it was he was touching.  “W-what is it?”

  “It’s a thestral, silly.  Oh, maybe you haven’t heard of them.  Well, perhaps Professor Hagrid will show them in class one day.  Come on, Joe, we don’t want to be late.”  She climbed into the carriage before them.

 Joe looked to see if he could find the Slytherins but they had already left.  Just once, he wished they’d stick around for him.  So instead, he climbed into the carriage with Luna.  When it seemed no one else would join them, the carriage began to move down the muddy lane.

  “I hope you have a pleasant holiday, Joe.  I can’t wait to see Dad again.  He says we may go on an expedition to find the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.”

  “Sounds fun,” Joe commented, not really knowing what a Crumple-Horned Snorkack was.  “I expect I’ll just stay home with mum.  Be nice to lounge about with no school work.  Well, very little at any rate.”  Just then, Joe glanced down and noticed that Luna was wearing one green trainer while the other shoe was a black pump.  “Uh, Luna.  Is there a reason to wear mismatched shoes?”

  She looked down at her feet.  “Oh!  Yes.  Some students in my house have fun hiding some of my things.  This morning, I found that I have only half pairs of shoes.  It’s really quite interesting to walk around like this though.  You should try it.”

  Joe looked at her feet in surprise.  “You mean students in your own house steal things from you?”

  “Oh no.  They’ll turn up soon, I would imagine.  I consider it a game; they hide my books and quills in various places and I try to discover where they may have hidden them.  It’s really quite fun.”

  Joe didn’t think it sounded like fun.  It sounded more like Luna was being unfairly teased.  Well, he couldn’t say too much about his own predicament—right now he had an upper classman who liked nothing more than bullying him, and his own year of fellow students more or less ignoring him unless he was of some use.  He looked at Luna as she idly twirled a strand of her hair.  “If you need any help finding your things when we get back, let me know, okay?”

  “Oh, that might be fun too.  It would be nice to see how you think things through like you do in potions class.  Would you make a list for me as well?”

  “I uh, guess.”

  “We could see who finds the most items then; it’ll be a race of sorts.”

  “Sure.”

  Luna stared intently at him for the rest of the ride.  Before disembarking, she asked him, “Is everything alright, Joe?  You look like you might be infected by a Gulping Plimpy.  Here, this will help you.”  She dug into her purse and pulled out some sort of bulbous plant that looked like a green onion.  “Just put that in your pocket and it’ll clear up that infestation in no time.”

  Joe accepted it without comment and placed it in his bag.  Luna made to get out and Joe helped her down.  “Luna, I was wondering if I could have your mailing address.  I wanted to give you something for Christmas, but I’ll have to wait until I get back home before I can send it.”

  “Oh that would be nice.  Certainly.”  She pulled out a scrap of paper from her purse and lazily wrote something down.  “Why don’t you give me yours as well?  We could be Christmas plungers.”  Joe couldn’t help himself and chuckled a little before he knew what he was doing.  “See?  I knew that gurdyroot would help.  Well Joe, if you don’t mind, I want to find a girlfriend of mine before we leave.  She said she had something to tell me at breakfast, but I didn’t see her there.”

  “Sure.  We may run into each other on the train.  If we don’t, have a Happy Christmas.”

  “You too, Joe.”  Alternating the soft tread of the trainer and a flip-flopping sound of the pump, Luna made her was down the platform.

  Joe made his way down the train cars, trying to find a compartment that was either empty or contained some students that he knew.  Most were already filled, but towards the end of the train, he finally slipped into an empty slot.  He was a little worried though; last time he sat in the rear of the train, he was attacked by a dementor.  Worse still, he wasn’t very keen on the whole death wand either, so he wasn’t sure he would be able to make it run off this time.  Still, it was too late to do anything else.  If he were smart, he would have walked past the train platform and head straight into Hogsmeade where he could travel home via floo powder to Diagon Alley.  Of course, he might have had difficulty explaining how he got home when no one had seen him on the train.

  The train started to pull away from the station and still no one joined him.  He wondered just how many students were going home for the holidays—hopefully some were staying behind so that Lyseria wouldn’t be left all alone.  Just as he was about to pull out a book to read, the compartment door opened and a surprise visitor stepped in.

  “Hi.  Do you mind if I sit with you?”  It was Liana Stormcraft.

  Joe was slightly dumbfounded and for a few seconds, couldn’t answer.  “Wh—ah, no.  Please, sit down.”

  She either apparently left her trunk at school or else secured it elsewhere; in any event, all she had was a small carryall bag that she placed in the overhead before sitting down.  This was the first time Joe had a good look at her up close.  She was fairly small, even for an eleven year old, and slight of build.  Her blonde hair was plaited down her back and ended with a small, plaid bow.  Her face was very fair, like she might have been of French descent, and to top it all off, she had the most sparkling green eyes he had ever seen.  Joe felt heat in his cheeks and looked away before she noticed he was staring.

  “Did you have a good first of term?” she asked quietly.

  “Um, yes.  It was a little tough at first, but I’m doing fine now,” he mumbled.

  “Sorry about you getting kicked out of potions.”

  “What?  Oh!  No, I wasn’t kicked out of class; Professor Snape just skipped me ahead.  Thought I needed a challenge.”

  “Really?” she looked a little surprised.  “Oh.  Well good for you.  Alyssa always thought you were doing well in class.  I think she was a little jealous of you, actually.”

  Joe wasn’t sure what he should say.  It was obvious that she wanted to get to know him better, but for the first time, his little knack of reading minds wasn’t helping.  “Your family planning a big holiday?” he said in an attempt to keep the conversation going.

  “No.  I think we’re planning on staying home this year.  Last year we went skiing in France. You?”

  “No.  Mum and I will most likely just stay home too.  We never were much for travelling outside London.”

  “So you live there, in London?”

  “Yes.  We have a little flat near Kingsway.  You as well?”

  “No.  We have a house out near Basingstoke.”

  “Sounds nice,” he added lamely.

  The two of them said nothing for a while as the train made its way down to the lowlands.

  “You said you were a Yank that first day.”

  Joe had to think back to when he had said that. “Oh.  Yes, I guess you could say that.  My mum and I just moved to London a couple of years ago, when I was eleven.”  He almost bit his tongue at that last part.  Now she was going to think he was some thick-headed idiot for starting so late.

  “I heard a rumor your letter from Hogwarts got lost in the mail,” she said quietly.

  “Actually, Professor Sinistra tells me Salem’s letter got lost and no one told Hogwarts.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “Yeah, well, no sense crying over it.  I got here eventually.”

  “Is that why you’re always going to remedial class at night?  To catch up, I mean, to the third years.”  She seemed a little embarrassed by the question.

  “Well, some of the teachers are hopeful, but I doubt I’ll ever catch up to them.  Maybe I’ll skip one whole year, but two?  I doubt it.”

  Once more the conversation came to a complete stop.  Joe wracked his brains to think of something to say but for the life of him, nothing came to mind.  In a last ditch effort, he reached into his travelling bag and hoped something interesting would jump in his hand.

  He pulled out a bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.  “Uhm, would you like one?” he offered.

  She crinkled her nose a little and shook her head dismissively.  “I’ve kind of gotten turned off of them after the train ride to Hogwarts.”

  He looked at the bag, wondering where he had picked them up.  Presumably when he was Christmas shopping but then why didn’t he give them away to one of the Slytherin students?  “Yeah, I’ve never really cared for them myself either,” he said, telling a little white lie.  In truth, he never had one.  Her puzzled expression made him wish he hadn’t said that; obviously she wondered why then he had a bag of them.  To cover up his gaff, he weakly said, “A schoolmate gave them to me.”  He stuffed the bag of beans back into his travelling bag.

  Joe’s mind raced to think of something to keep her talking but he was coming up short.  Any minute now, he knew she would get up and leave, her curiosity satisfied that there was nothing special about him.  He didn’t understand why he was even unhappy at the thought of her leaving, but it was true. He glanced outside the window in an effort to clear his head.

  “Why do you do that?” she quietly asked.

  “Do what?” he responded, wondering what he had done wrong this time.

  “You’re rubbing your left arm.  I’ve noticed you do that before in class sometimes.  Why do you do that?  Did you hurt it or something?”

  Joe looked down and sure enough, he was once again subconsciously rubbing his right thumb over the scars on his left forearm.  He quickly stopped.  “Oh.  It’s nothing really.” He resisted the urge to tuck his left arm under his leg; that would just draw more attention to it.

  The girl gave him a faint smile, her eyes seizing his.  “You’re hiding something there, aren’t you?  I heard a Slytherin boy say you had a tattoo there.  Is it true?”

  “No.” he tersely replied, trying to cut the subject off.  Surely his little show that first night would have made anyone there refrain from talking about it.  Who in the world would have blabbed about it? 

  “Oh come on!  Let’s have a look,” she insisted.  Her small hands grasped his and pulled it to her, one of them pushing the sleeve of his robe up to his elbow.  The hairs on his arm stuck straight up as her fingers lightly tickled him.  She stared at the blank skin on the top of his arm.

  “See, nothing there,” he said, hoping that would be the end of it.

  “Yeah, yeah.  What about the other side?  Come on, show me!”  She tried hard to twist his arm over, but he was way too strong for her to do so, firmly keeping his arm fixed in place as she tried to wrestle it over.  Oddly enough, she seemed like she enjoyed it, like it was all a game.

  “Come on, let me see.  Don’t tell me you have…” she leaned in a little to whisper, “a…Dark Mark on you!”  She grinned a little to take the sting out of her voice, but he honestly didn’t have a clue what she was referring to, so it didn’t bother him in the least.

  “I tell you, I don’t have a tattoo, a Dark Mark, or anything else.  Let it go, please,” he said in a quiet, slightly pleading voice.

  “Oh okay.  Spoilsport!” she teased as she released his arm.  Just as he was about to smooth his sleeve back over his arm with his right hand, she shot out with both hands and pushed his left hand up, exposing his underarm.  “Hah!  Got ya—Oh!” she gasped as she saw the large circular scars running up and down his forearm, her face turning from laughter to shocked horror.

  Joe too was in shock, as he held sat there with his arm frozen in place.  Sure, he had shone off his arm to people a few times before, but it was more of a scare tactic, a means to make people shut up and leave him alone.  But here, with someone he really wanted to be friends with, it felt even more obscene than before, like he had yelled out loud the most embarrassing swear word he knew.

  She let go of him, covering her open mouth with her right hand, but seemed unwilling, or at least unable, to look away.  Many seconds passed before Joe regained his senses and slowly lower his arm to his side, surreptitiously covering his arm once more.  He wanted to say something to her, to explain it away, but the words wouldn’t come to his mouth.  Worse still, he couldn’t bear to look at her because he knew she would be pitying him.

  They rode in silence for fifteen minutes before one of them screwed up the courage to say something.

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a very small voice, “I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay,” Joe finally responded, even though it wasn’t.

  “What happened?” she asked weakly.

  “I don’t like to talk about it,” he said numbly.  A few minutes passed and he added, “I would prefer it if you didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Okay.”

  More uncomfortable silence passed and finally, she got up to go.  “I wanted to sit with some friends before we got to King’s Cross.”

  “Okay,” he mumbled, very relieved that she was leaving.

  At the door, she turned around and said quietly, “I won’t tell anyone.  Promise.”

  “Thank you.”

  Once she had left, Joe punched one of the seat’s pillows hard.  Why did she have to do that!  It was the worst possible thing that could have happened, and right when he imagined he might have a chance to make a good impression.  Now she was most likely to avoid him at all costs, or whisper about him to other people.  What a way to start Christmas holidays!  He really wished he had hit—

  That thought shocked him out of his angry reverie.  No. Hitting was definitely not allowed.  Ever.  He sat still and forcibly calmed himself down.  Getting emotional and losing his control was not going to help him, he needed to settle down think rationally.  First, he couldn’t change what had happened.  The best he could do is hope Liana would keep to her word and tell no one.  She seemed trustworthy enough.  Even if she did, most likely she wouldn’t want to talk to him again. It was a lost cause.  He let out a big sigh as he slumped back in his seat.  Yes, this was a great start to his Christmas holidays.

  He was so depressed about the situation, he shook his head when the witch with the food cart passed by and asked if he wanted anything for lunch.  He spent most of the trip by himself, blankly staring out the window watching the snowy countryside pass by.  Various students walked by and looked in, but when they saw who was sitting in the compartment, they continued walking.  Joe didn’t care.

  “Joe?  I’ve been meaning to find you.”

 Joe looked up to see Neville standing in the doorway.  “Hey, Neville.  I thought you were avoiding me.”

  “What?  No.  Uh, sorry, but I was just busy is all,” Neville’s reddened face told Joe otherwise. “How was your term?”

  “Okay I suppose.  You doing any better in Potions?”

  Neville laughed a little nervously.  “Not really.  I’m still having trouble with Transfiguration as well.  You?”

  “Charms and Transfigurations are hard, but I got to skip to second year Potions.”

  “Oh.  Well, that’s good I suppose.”  The train started slowing down as they pulled into the London station.  “Looks like we’re here.  Well, Happy Christmas, Joe.”

  “Happy Christmas, Neville.”

  He checked to make sure he had everything and joined the throng of students exiting the train.  Once outside, he searched for his mum, and found her standing off to one side.  She ran to him and he picked her up in a big hug.  He was surprised that he had grown so much during his stay at Hogwarts.  She made the teary greeting he expected would come and the two of them walked home, she grilling him about things at school she already knew, he answering the same as he did in his letters.

  The apartment was festooned with cheap decorations.  Normally they didn't do much other than a garland around the entry to the kitchen and perhaps a small tree in the corner of the living room.  Apparently mum had gone overboard to make up for the time spent apart.

  The vacation went by very fast.  By the end of it, he felt much better than ever before and was sad to know that in a few short days, he'd have to go back.  His mum seemed to feel the same, but never brought up the notion of perhaps removing him from school.  Before, he would have objected, but now after learning about the bone wand, he wasn't so sure.  Currently, the wand was still packed in its case, stored deep within his travelling bag.  He sometimes wished it would vanish completely inside the roomy interior, never to be found again.

  All too soon, they were walking back once more to King's Cross, much like they did back in September.  It was colder than ever, and the sidewalks were slightly slick with ice this early in the morning, but the mood felt the same.  His mum wore the new sweater he gave her; she seemed to enjoy turning it inside out many times before deciding on a particular color, and true to the old witch's word, it fit perfectly.  Joe sported a brand new watch and new shoes.  Most people wouldn't have found them great gifts, but Joe was appreciative.

 Joe had found an old handheld electronic game in a thrift store, and on a whim, bought it and wrapped it up to send to Luna.  No doubt she had never seen one before and he hoped she would find it a suitable gift.  Each day he wrote a short letter to Lyseria about what he was doing and how much he wished he was back at school (a little white lie), but so far, he had received nothing in return.  Surprisingly, Violet sent him a small Christmas package that contained a pair of emerald green gloves.  "Because your others are too ratty," the note inside said.

  In addition to his regular belongings, his mum packed him with a bunch of homemade cookies and sweets, telling him to share them with his friends.  Judging by how things were going so far, he was going to be eating a lot of sweets until the end of term, but he said nothing and thanked her for the thoughtfulness.  Once more, they had a teary goodbye as he boarded the scarlet train that carried him back to Hogwarts.

  The ride back was a little better.  At one point, Violet stopped by to ask how his vacation went.  She was wearing the purple pin in her hair, he noticed.  He told her it went well and thanked her for the gloves; fortunately he was wearing them as he said that.  Later in the day, Luna found him and sat down beside him.

  "Thank you for the wonderful gift, Joe.  I'm not exactly sure what it is, but I like it," she said as she waved it in front of him.

  Joe smiled.  "It's a video game.  Here, let me show you how it works."  She gave it to him and when he turned it on, nothing happened.  "That's strange," he said, frowning, "I could have sworn I put new batteries in it."  He checked the back to make sure they were still in there.

  "Oh, it's one of those things that use eckletricy to work!  I learned about them in Muggle Studies.  Professor Burbage says eckletricy won't work near magic."

  "Oh.  Sorry, Luna, I didn't know it wouldn't work." he was crestfallen that she hadn't had a chance to play with it, and most likely never would.

  "Oh no, I think it's a great gift!  It's like a puzzle—I'll have to figure out a way to get it to work now.  I hope it takes all year.  I wonder if Professor Flitwick will have any suggestions."  She played with it some more, studying this way and that, marveling at how the batteries fit inside the back.  "And these are called battles?"

  "Batteries.  They supply the electricity.  Think of them like small wands with a limited power."

  "Amazing.  Oh, I almost forgot.  I got something for you too.  I hope you don't mind it's a bit late; it took me a bit to make it."  She handed him a small box wrapped with green and silver paper that had been hand-painted.  "I normally don't like green—it brings bad luck—but I thought you might like it."

  Joe carefully unwrapped the box to find a hand-made book inside titled, "Unusual Creatures of England."  Inside the covers, Luna had illustrated by hand several unusual creatures indeed.  Joe wasn't sure if all of them were real, but it didn't matter.  He smiled broadly and said, "I think is perhaps the best thing I've ever received.  Thanks, Luna."

  "I'm glad you like it.  Look, I even drew you a thestral for you." She turned to a section in the book where he saw something that looked like a cross between a bat, an iguana, and a skeletal horse. 

  “How nice,” he said.  Still, it was a rather nice gesture of her and it was a personal gift, not something found in the back of a thrift store like what he had given her.

  “Well, I have to be going; I’ve heard Mandy Brockhurst got a pigmy puff for Christmas and I’m dying to see it.  See you in Potions, Joe!”  As she skipped down the hallway, Joe noticed she was once again wearing mismatched shoes.

  He spent the rest of the ride looking through Luna’s handbook.  At one point, he remembered the Monster Book of Monsters Professor Hagrid had assigned and slapping the cover before it took a bite out of his hand, he stroked the spine and began to compare the two.  As he expected, a lot of Luna’s creatures were not in the Monster Book of Monsters, but there were a few, and quite unexpectantly, Luna’s seemed to have a little more observational descriptions than the Monster Book.  He’d have to show it to Professor Hagrid and see what he thought.  On a whim, he looked up ‘thestral’ in the Monster Book and found that it was indeed a real creature.  More so, it apparently was invisible to everyone except those few who had witnessed death.  Strangely enough, that book didn’t have a physical drawing of the creature; Joe guessed the author hadn’t seen one before.  He wondered what Luna had seen to make thestrals visible to her, but knew it would be inappropriate to ask her.  That might explain why she seemed so…different than the other students.

  The train arrived with no unexpected visitors and Joe found that they had arrived fairly early in the afternoon; plenty of time to unpack before evening meal.  He entered the Slytherin common room with the other tired students and made for his room, but spied Lyseria waiting in a corner.  The sullen face was back again, and Joe wondered how long he would have to endure her pouting before she forgave everyone for leaving.  Checking the points board to make sure nothing had changed, he walked over to her figuring he might was well find out now.

  “Hello, Lyseria.  I hope you had a good time here.” She said nothing, staring at him with baleful eyes.

  “Did you like the folding paper and instruction book I gave you?  I know they were a little hard, but while at home, I found an easier book that you might like instead.”  Still she said not a word.  She was hurt and angry, but he had no idea what to do.

 “Okay then.  Well, I’m going to drop off my belongings and then wash up before dinner.  Oh, my mum and I baked some cookies to share,” he reached inside his bag and pulled out a brown paper lunch sack. “Why don’t you hold onto these until I get back.”

  He turned and managed to take two steps before something hit him in the back.  It rustled as it did so and plopped to the carpeted floor.  Turning back, he saw Lyseria run upstairs to the girls’ dormitories, the sack of cookies lying at his feet.  Adelie had just walked down the stairs and witnessed the whole incident.  She stared at him in confusion and then back up the stairs.

  “What was that all about?”

  “I have no idea.”  He picked up the discarded sack at his feet and with nothing better to make of the situation, resumed to his own room to drop off his belongings.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen

The Monster in the Trunk

  The next few days went by in a blur.  Care of Magical Creatures started to get interesting with their first lesson being about fire salamanders which the students got first hand experience by feeding them wood chips and twigs—Tobias singed his fingers a little but fortunately Joe had a small dose of burn cure on hand.  Charms were a little more difficult with his initial reluctance to use his wand, but by the end of class, he could actually hold it with only a little revulsion.

  Evening classes were getting even more difficult with additional training and practices.  Snape had decided that Joe’s level of expertise in Occulmency was adequate so he was now practicing its counterpart, Legilimancy.  Snape was a formidable  subject.  Even though he found the experience thrilling, it still added a huge amount of extra work to his load.  Both Professor Flitwick and McGonagall had began to touch on second year lessons, even though he was still expected to complete his normal coursework.

  Joe was now spending even more time in the library than ever.  He had hoped to work on the first years, to smooth things over enough that they would be a group once more.  But with the added schoolwork, he rarely had time to even talk to them.  Even worse, Lyseria was still not speaking to him and by unspoken consent the rest followed her lead.

  What was strange was the Granger girl was practically living in her corner of the library.  For the longest time, she was part of the Harry Potter trio; now, she seemed practically alone.  Joe guessed he wasn’t the only one having strained relationships with his fellow house students.

  There was one highlight early on; Slytherin defeated Ravenclaw during their Quidditch match.  It was fairly close when Draco almost let the Ravenclaw Seeker grab the Snitch early on, but with a few questionable actions on behalf of the Slytherin team, Ravenclaw was narrowly defeated even if they had to give up a few penalty scores. 

  Defense Against the Dark Arts got a lot more interesting.  Joe overheard one of the Hufflepuffs say something about a practical, an actual exercise in dealing with a dark creature.  Joe could hardly wait, although some of the others seemed a little worried.

  "I wonder what he'll have us battle?" asked Icarus.

  "Remember when Professor Snape took over last year when Lupin was sick?  I heard some of the third years actually had a personal encounter with a werewolf!" retorted Adelie.

  "Don't be silly, where would Snape find a werewolf?" said Anatolio.

  "How about that Grindylow Lupin keeps in his office?  Maybe he'll show us a way to fight them." Gretchen quipped.

  "No, I don't think so," answered Joe, "Grindlows are typically found in lakes and ponds, remember?  It would be a little cold to be out swimming in the lake this time of year."

  Instead, the class were lined up and led to an empty class room that contained a large, battered trunk.

  "Well now, would anyone like to guess what we have here?" Lupin asked the class as he tapped the top of the trunk, causing something inside to shake it around.  The whole class took a step back.  "No?  Well, it is nothing all that dangerous, I assure you.  What we have here is a boggart.  Now, who can tell me what a boggart is?"

  Everyone hesitantly looked at each other, but didn't offer an answer.  Joe finally raised his hand.  "Sir, isn't a boggart just a fairy tale?  Like the boogie man or something to scare little children?"

  Lupin smiled, "Well, you could say it is the boogie man, but I assure you it is not a fairy tale.  Boggarts are creatures that live in dark recesses and inside nooks and crannies.  They live off the fear they can generate from the people they scare.  So, yes, their favorite prey is small children who they can scare easily.  Hence, the monster under the bed or in the closet, or as Mr. Black call it, the boogie man.  Now, the interesting aspect of a boggart is that they can assume the likeness of whatever will scare their victim."  Lupin tapped the box once more as it shook and rocked a little more.  "Now that we know this, we have the boggart at a distinct advantage.  Can anyone tell me what it is?"

  Again, the class looked at each other but seemed hesitant to answer.  "Miss Parkinson, what do you think is our advantage?"

  Violet blanched a little, but stammered, "W-well, if we know what it's going to turn into, we're prepared for it; it's not going to be a complete surprise, right?"

  "True enough.  However, a small child most likely knows that the thing under the bed is a huge scary mummy or a scaly vampire slug.  Would you like to add to your answer?"

  Violet's cheeks reddened slightly.  "Uhhh, i-if you have two people around, wouldn't it make it harder for the boggart to attack?"

  Lupin smiled.  "You're getting there, Miss Parkinson.  Boggarts, while canny in figuring out what scares you the most, are not very intelligent, so if you can confront one with two or more people, it gets confused; does it turn into the big scary mummy, or the scaly vampire slug?  Most likely it will try both and look like a swaddled slug."  Adelie actually laughed at this comment, but stopped when Lupin looked at her.  "No, you're completely right, Miss Mivens; it is kind of funny when you think about it, and that is your weapon against a boggart—laughter.  Remember boggarts feed off of fear, if it can't get it, it will whither and die.  Laughter is like poison to it.

  "So, we are going to learn the correct way to dispose of a boggart.  The first item is to confront the creature in a group, like we have here.  The second part is to know what you hare afraid of, and then take that scary thought and change it into something silly; the boggart is easily fooled into thinking it is something you are afraid of and once you confuse it with this unscary thought, you can utter the charm that will weaken it further.  Now, repeat this with me, riddikulus!"

  The class did as they were instructed.  "There now.  Fairly easy, wouldn't you say?  Today, we will focus merely on confusing the boggart and force it back into the trunk.  I was going to show you the boggart earlier in the year, but I'm afraid my third year classes got a little carried away and dispelled one I had before you could have a chance at it.  So, let's see if we can keep this fellow alive for the rest of the classes, shall we?"

  Lupin looked positively happy about the idea, but the class didn't share his enthusiasm.  Joe could understand exactly why too; who here wanted the rest to know what scared him or her most?  This was not going to be a fun lesson after all.

  "Right then.  Who would like to be first?"  Everyone took a step back.  "I assure you it is not that bad.  Here, I will go first."  Lupin approached the trunk and opened it with a flick of his wand.  Almost immediately, a dark smoke poured out of the trunk followed by a silver glowing orb.  Lupin looked at it with half-slitted eyes and lazily said, "Riddiculus" as he waved his wand at it.  The orb instantly turned into a red balloon that deflated and flew around the classroom before it flew back into the trunk that Lupin closed.  "See?  Nothing to fear.  Now who would like to go next?"

  The class was still uneasy about participating in the lesson.  Finally, Lupin pointed at Joe.  "Mr. Black, perhaps you would be kind enough to go next?  Come on, there's nothing to it."

  Someone pushed him from the back which caused him to stumble forward.  "Good," said Lupin.  "Now then, focus on what you are afraid of the most, and then think about how you can make it less scary.  Ready?"

  "Sir, I really don't want—"

  "Trust me, there's nothing to be afraid of," Lupin reassured him as he faced him towards the trunk.

  "But sir—"

  "Ready now?  Go!"  Lupin opened the trunk before he could protest anymore.

  Before Joe could back away, a monstrously huge man unfolded himself from inside the trunk and stared at him with black malevolent eyes.  He was as tall as a mountain troll, with large gnarled hands and smoke that poured from his nose.  He held a stubby wand-like item in one hand that glowed bright orange from the tip.  "Found you at last boy," the creature said in a gravelly voice.

  Joe just froze in place.  The classroom and all of its people vanished from his sight, the large man filling his wide eyes.

  "Did you think you and that witch could run away from me?" the creature asked as it slowly stepped out of the trunk and approached him.  Joe could hear something over to his right, but his mind couldn't register it.  All of his attention was focused on the thing before him.

  "Well, boy.  You know what this means.  Give it to me."  Joe instinctively hid is left arm behind him.  "Now, now.  You know the rules.  The longer you stall, the more it hurts.  Give it to me."  Something wood-like clattered to the floor as Joe slowly held up his left arm.

  Something black and flapping blocked his view and he heard Lupin yell, "Riddikulus!"  Joe blinked hard and mentally shook himself.  He wasn't in Texas anymore; this was Hogwarts.  He felt a little wetness streak down his face but he didn't care.  The episode left him too numb to think of anything.  His feet shuffled a little, and he felt one of them kick something.  Looking down, he saw it was his wand; he didn't remember dropping it.  As he reached down to pick it up with his cold fingers, his brain registered that there was people nearby, shuffling around as well.  Oh yes, he thought, he was in class.

  Class.  He was surrounded by the Slytherin first years.  They had seen everything.  Immediately his eyes began to water again, and not wanting them to see him, he turned away and began to march to the door to flee to the hallway.  No, not flee; running would be bad.  Walk calmly.  Head down.  Don't bring attention to yourself.  Someone touched his arm as he walked out.

  "Joseph, I'm sorry.  I didn't know,” a voice whispered.

  Joe didn't know who it was or cared.  He merely pulled his arm out of the grip and continued walking.  He didn't know exactly where he was going, he merely focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

  Because of this, he was quite surprised to find himself just outside his room when he finally came to his senses.  Somehow he had travelled down three floors of classrooms without seeing a single person.  At least, he didn't recall seeing anyone.  Thinking hard, he thought he might have walked through a ghost at one point, but that was all.  His room was pitch black, the doorway an open maw down away from the common room.  What had he said so long ago to Lyseria?  "In the dark, the monsters can't find you."  Yeah, that was very true.  Joe continued down the stairs and fumbled around his room without ever using any source of illumination and climbed inside his wardrobe.  It was a tight fit, but he found that if he curled his arms around his legs, he could sit down somewhat comfortably.  He slowly calmed his breathing to normal and calmed his fleeing thoughts in his brain.  Sometimes he would hear something out in the common room, but he never stirred from his place.  No, as long as he was in a dark place, the monster wouldn't find him.

  Joe woke up still sitting in his wardrobe closet.  His legs were stiff from the confinement and his stomach was very empty.  Checking his watch, he saw that it was five-thirty.  He debated on whether he should go to dinner or not, but his hunger pangs managed to persuade him that he needed to eat.  Quietly opening the wardrobe door, he cautiously lit the overhead and saw that no one was waiting for him in his room.  He got out of the wardrobe and stretched, then checked the door to the common room.  It was unusually quiet.  He hesitantly climbed the stairs, hoping to avoid meeting anyone but he needn't bother—the place was deserted.

  That in itself was strange; surely someone would be lounging about waiting for the evening meal, but no one was there.  Feeling a little braver, he calmly walked across the common room and out the main door.  Once again, he was surprised by the lack of activity anywhere.  Even when he walked to the Great Hall, he met no one, not even a ghost. 

  The hall itself was empty of life as well.  It was like the entire castle had been vacated by all of its inhabitants.  Even the normal golden dishes that set on the house tables were missing.  Looking up at the magical sky above, it finally hit him; it wasn't five-thirty at night, it was five thirty in the morning!  He had somehow slept through fifteen hours.

  However, that still didn’t help his hunger.  He wondered when the castle elves would be serving breakfast.  Starving, he glanced once more about, and then whispered, “Nobby, can you hear me?”  As he half expected, the elf popped into view almost instantly. 

  “You called, young master?”

  “Good morning, Nobby.  I hope I’m not disturbing you, but I was wondering when would breakfast be served.”

  Nobby bowed deeply, “Yes, young master.  Morning meal is typically served an hour before first class.”

  Joe grimaced.  “I thought as much.  Say, could you show me where the kitchen is?”

  “Certainly, young master.  Follow me.”  The elf proceeded to lead him through some lower corridors opposite of the dungeons, where soon they stopped at a large still-life painting of a bowl of fruit.  Nobby stroked the pear in the painting and it wriggled and changed into a doorknob.  Pulling the painting back like a door, Nobby ushered Joe into a large stone kitchen.

  It was warmly lit and bustled with elven activity; several were tending various sections of meats roasting over an open fire, while others scuttled about carrying cooking ingredients and utensils, scrambling eggs or stirring porridge.  It was an amazing sight to see.  Further down into the main section of the kitchen, Joe spied four large tables that a small army of elves were currently setting with golden plates and cutlery.  If he had his sense of direction correct, those tables were sitting directly underneath the Great Hall tables.  So that’s how they sent the food up, thought Joe.

  “If that will be all, young master?”

  “What?  Oh.  Yes, thank you, Nobby.” Joe mumbled, and with that, the elf vanished.

  Joe stood and watched all the activity for several minutes, not really sure why he came down here.  The elves in turn ignored him, but more like they were too busy to stop and talk rather than out and out refusing to acknowledge his existence.  Indeed, once or twice, an elf would smile at him as it walked by carrying plates of this or that to another section of the kitchen.  Hesitantly, he started to walk among the house elves, trying his best to stay out of the way; it didn’t really seem to matter to them.  At one counter, he spied a bowl of large brown eggs and slowly made his way over to them.  Overhead, he found a small stirring bowl and whisk.  Cautiously looking at the nearby elves, he selected a few eggs, cracked them over the bowl, and then scrambled them, all the while watching to see if anyone told him to stop. 

  He needn’t have worried.  For of his nervousness, the elves simply acted as if he had every right to be there, even if he felt he didn’t.  Once he was finished, he selected a small skillet near a wood burning stove and began to cook his eggs.  Near his hands, he found salt and pepper and various other spices, even some shredded cheese to melt over his breakfast.  It was like the most perfectly apportioned kitchen—everything within reach, everything where a person would instinctively look for it.

  Once the eggs were cooked and served on a plate, he settled himself at a low standing table and began to eat as he continued to watch the elves work.  At one point, one of them placed a large glass of milk at his right hand as it walked by (how in the world could you tell the girls from the boys, he wondered) and another dropped off a freshly baked biscuit as it headed towards the large tables.

  When he was finished, Joe collected his dirty dishes, the skillet, and the stirring bowl and found an unoccupied sink and began washing them.  That was a new experience; unlike home, the source of water came from a hand pump rather than a faucet.  Plus, it was cold water (presumably from the lake) so he had to heat it up with a charm.  Still, it was serviceable enough for him to fill a basin with hot soapy water.  As he started washing his dishes, an elf walked by with several used mixing bowls.  Before he knew what he had done, Joe gathered up the dirty bowls and placed them inside the soapy water.  The elf seemed to hesitate a little, but went away without a word.

  Soon, Joe was busy washing various pots and pans and forks and knives and bowls and skillets.  Every time an elf would pass by with dirty dishes, if Joe was low on things to clean, he would relieve the elf of its load and wash some more.  It must have seemed very odd to the kitchen staff what he was doing, but Joe subconsciously knew what was going on.  Whenever he didn’t want to think about something, he would find some physical labor to do, the more mind-numbing the better.  He really did not want to think right now.  The large pots and pans were soon being replaced with golden plates and goblets.  Every now and then he would empty the washing and rinsing basins and fill them with clean water.  What’s more, when the stack of clean dishes began to pile, an elf would come by and remove them—it was almost like he had been turned into a house elf himself.

  After a while, the dirty pile of dishes came to an end.  Joe drained his basins once more, still reluctant to leave.  But as fortune would have it, an elf passed by with a large basket of freshly dug potatoes.  At once, Joe grabbed the basket from the elf and began washing every potato as best he could.  Then there were carrots, then celery, and onions, and beets.  When it seemed the source of vegetables to wash had come to an end, he found a knife and began peeling potatoes alongside a small group of elves sitting in a corner.  All the while his hands began to ache and his back was starting to smart, but he didn’t care so long as he didn’t have to think.

  But of course, it couldn’t last forever.

  “So, it would seem that the kitchen has gained a new assistant,” a familiar voice spoke, shattering his solitude.  Joe refrained from looking up at Headmaster Dumbledore, but set his knife and half-peeled potato on the nearby counter.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Joe saw the headmaster sit down at a small table, where an elf handed him a glazed pinwheel and a cup of something to drink.

  “Thank you, Blenda, you are most kind.”  Dumbledore took a bite of the confectionary, and sipped his drink and sighed contentment.  “Professor Lupin wishes to express his profound apologies and hopes to see you tomorrow in class.  In fact, many of the teachers have expressed concern of your health considering that you have not attended any classes yesterday or today.  I myself was beginning to worry when Poppy told me you had not shown up in the infirmary.”  He took another bite of the pinwheel and sat there as if he had nothing better to do with his time other than enjoy the food.  Joe still said nothing.

  When the headmaster had finished his snack, he handed the cup to a passing elf, and turned once more back to Joe.  “Is there anything you wish to talk about, Joseph?”

  Several minutes passed before he could work up the nerve to respond.  Even then, it surprised him a little when he answered hoarsely, “No, sir.”

  “Very well then,” Dumbledore sighed.  “Please remember that my door is always open should you change your mind.”  He stood up and made to leave Joe to his scut-work.  At the doorway, he paused and spoke in his clear voice, “Joseph, I understand the liberation of doing menial labor, however it is a poor use of your time.  You may spend the rest of your day here if you like, but I would like you to return to your classes tomorrow.”  The headmaster started to leave once more but Joe stopped him.

  “Sir!  I….I don’t know…if I can do that,” he answered lamely.

  Headmaster Dumbledore turned to face him for the first time.  “Well, you won’t know for sure until you try.  There are a great number of tremendous possibilities waiting for you Joseph, but you have to make the effort.  I believe in you.”

  Joe sat there with the half-peeled potato in his lap as the headmaster left the kitchen.  The elves seemed to be working nonstop the entire time; Joe wondered if they ever slept.  He wondered if he could stay here the rest of the school year as well, but Dumbledore seemed adamant that he couldn't stay here.  Instead of worrying about it, he resumed his peeling.

  For hours he worked in silence, the elves rarely ever speaking to him unless he spoke to them first.  Finally, tired and physically exhausted, he glanced at his watch and noticed that it was almost nine o'clock.  He had only a few minutes to get to the Slytherin common room before he would be out of bounds.  He quickly washed up and tried his best to quietly slip inside unnoticed.  There were a few students sitting around the fire but he thought he had managed to make it to his door without anyone noticing him.  There, he looked around to see if anything was moved while he was gone, but found nothing out of place.  He had only just begun to change into his pajamas when the door opened unexpectantly.

  "There he is, Professor, with everything I told you about," Warrick announced triumphantly, Professor Snape trailing behind him.

  Joe hastily buttoned his top and stood beside his bed, eyes to the floor.  Snape slowly walked around the large space taking in everything before he stopped in front of him.

  "You have been missing for almost two days," Snape slowly said in his usual whisper, "and Prefect Warrick says that you did not sleep in your bed last night.  Is this correct?"

  Joe merely nodded his head.

  "So where were you last night?" Snape asked him as he eyed his working table.

  "Here in my room."

  "Really?  So could you explain to me why Warrick did not see you last night or this morning?"

  "I slept in my wardrobe last night," he heard himself answer.  Warrick actually sniggered until he was hushed by a glance by Snape.

  "Is that so?  Would you care to tell me why?"

  "No, sir, I wouldn't not," Joe answered quietly.

  Snape stared hard at him for a minute.  Joe glanced up and was rewarded by Warrick's gleeful grin which told him that was probably the worst answer to say.  Instead of berating him, Snape walked over to his work table and examined everything in great detail.  "Explain this." he demanded.

  Joe wasn't sure why the change in questioning, so he did his best to answer fully.  "I've set up a small potion laboratory, sir.  I wanted to practice making the first year potions that I am missing since I have been moved to second year class."

  "You've been testing them?"  Snape snapped at him.

  "No sir.  That would require a test subject and I am not that confident in my abilities.  Instead, I've been comparing the physical characteristics of the result to what is described in the textbook."

  "And you just dump the results in a trashcan?"

  "No sir.  I keep them in a box for safe keeping," Joe risked a chance to retrieve his bag and from it, he pulled out an old spice case he had found in the storage room.  Opening it, he showed Snape the various vials and philters he had filled with different colored potions.  Enclosed with the tiny bottles was one of his spiral notebooks where he had made his notes during work.  Snape scanned through the book and studied each stoppered bottle.

  "Mr. Black, this entire operation is not permitted under school rules.  What you have done is dangerous both to you and your house.  For that reason, I am confiscating everything."  With a wave of his wand, Joe's entire collection of equipment vanished.

  "I'm sorry sir.  I didn't think anything was wrong.  I did not purchase any potion ingredients that I felt were dangerous on their own, and only made the potions I did not think were dangerous."

  "For missing classes today and yesterday, I am penalizing you ten points for each class and you will serve whatever detention each professor believes you deserve.  For my potions class, you will come to my office tomorrow night and assist with pickling rat brains.  For not answering my question as to what you were doing last night, you will assist me for the entire week."

  Snape pointedly examined the room once more.  "Even owing for the sixty point deduction, you should have better accommodations than this.  Would you care to explain, Prefect?"

  Warrick started stammering out an answer until Joe spoke up.  "Sir, I asked to keep this room.  It suits me."

  Snape stared into his eyes and Joe focused on flowing water to calm his mind.  "Be that as it may, this furniture isn't worth using for firewood.  Prefect, I expect a noticeable improvement in this room by this time tomorrow.  Mr. Black, since you seem so intent on furthering your education, you will resume first year potions class tomorrow in addition to your regular studies."

  "Yes sir," both he and Warrick answered the professor, Warrick glowering at him as he did so.

  Snape strode out of the room while Warrick stayed behind long enough to threateningly crack his knuckles.  Joe didn't care though; he was getting sick and tired of the older bully.  Instead, he finished putting on his pajamas and went to bed.  Surprisingly, he fell asleep almost as soon as he lay down.

  He woke bright and early the next morning, quickly got dressed and immediately went to the Great Hall for breakfast.  Never since he had come to Hogwarts had he felt so nervous, scared even, at the prospect of meeting anyone who he might know.  His plan for the entire day would be to arrive just at the start of class, take one of the front row desks so as to not look at anyone, and then leave immediately once the class had ended.  It wasn’t the best of plans, but it was all he had.

  First up was Defense Against the Dark Arts.  If he could get through that class, the rest of the day would be much easier.  When he finally arrived, Professor Lupin hesitated in taking attendance, but made no comments as he sat down.  He could hear rest of the students fidget behind him and occasionally make whispering noises, but he concentrated on his notebook in front of him and listening to the lecture once it started.  Never did he raise his hand—attracting no attention was the name of the game.  When class was over, he hurriedly left the room and found a nearby restroom where he waited until he felt he should leave for Transfiguration.  Once there, the same thing happened—Professor McGonagall briefly stopped her attendance taking for just a second, but made no comment as he sat down.  Once more, he focused on making notes while he listened to the teacher and ignored the students.

  Class ended and he immediately jumped up to leave.  He thought he would make it out with no direct confrontation with Professor McGonagall when she called him back.

  “Mr. Black, a word if you will.”

  Joe steeled himself as best he could, turned back around without looking at anyone and approached her desk, where he stood in his typical stance.

  “Professor Snape informs me that you did not have a valid excuse for missing class Tuesday.  Is that your opinion?”

  Joe merely nodded twice.

  “Professor Lupin tells me that there was an incident last Tuesday in his class, but will not say what it was.  Whatever the cause, he tells me that you needed the time to yourself, thus he feels that you do not deserve detentions.  So which is it, Mr. Black?”

  He made no move to answer her.

  Exasperated, McGonagall snapped, “Honestly boy!  Stand up for yourself!”

  It was more of a shock than a slap to the face.  Joe momentarily looked at her before staring back at the floor.  “I will do the detention, ma’am,” he mumbled.

  He could tell McGonagall was staring hard at him, trying to make him crack, but he was ready for it; instead he focused on calming his mind by thinking how a leaf floats through the wind.

  “Very well,” she said, giving in, “you have missed a homework assignment.  You will write me an essay on how the physical properties of wood, stone, and steel affect the transfiguration of the snail, the lizard, and the dog respectively.  I expect no less than a foot of scroll writing.  In addition, you will attend to Mr. Filch tonight at eight o’clock promptly where he will assign you cleaning duties.  You may go now.”

  After lunch, Joe immediately headed for the library before any of the first year Slytherins could talk to him.  As he opened the door, a Gryffindor girl ran into him on her way out, spilling her books.

  “Sorry,” he apologized and helped her gather her belongings.  As he looked up to hand them to her, he saw that it was the Granger girl and she was scared seeing him.  She grabbed her things and ran down the hallway without saying a word.  Joe was slightly annoyed that she couldn’t even say thank you, but was just as glad she didn’t say anything else.  Already, it seemed that entire school was whispering about him behind his back, so he really didn’t want to face anyone right now.

  He walked through the shelves slowly, looking for a quiet table where he could work without interruption.  Just as he was about to find a spot near the back, he spotted the Granger girl again.  She was furiously working on something with several books piled high around her like a literary fortress.  That made no sense; he just ran into her on the way in while she was leaving.  He reflexively turned to look back at the entrance, and then turned to face her once more.  The motion must have attracted her notice, for she looked up and scowled at him.  This time, he stared back.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “Didn’t I just…?  Never mind.”  He instead continued to walk to his preferred spot.  He didn’t really care what was going on, not really.  Just keep your head on the task at hand, he told himself.

  First year potions class proved to be an ordeal.  Once more, he arrived just in time for class to begin, but as he started to sit at the very front table, Professor Snape instructed him to stand beside the ingredients pantry in front of the whole class.  Snape then began to lecture the rest of the students without ever once acknowledging Joe’s presence. The students definitely noticed him however.  Finally, after Snape wrote the day’s instructions on the blackboard, he told Joe to gather the necessary ingredients from the pantry and to give each student the proper amount.  So that was it, Joe thought.  He had been reduced to an assistant for the entire class.  Not great, but it could have been worse, he thought to himself.

  The students set up their stations as he walked by handing out measured ingredients.  A few of the students looked at him with questioning faces, but most wouldn’t bother.  Liana was probably the hardest to approach—she seemed embarrassed to see him while her friend smirked when he handed them their supplies.

  Just as he finished his chore, Snape began his pacing around the classroom making critical remarks.  Joe at one point noticed one of the Ravenclaw boys begin to add salamander skin at the wrong time and stayed the boy’s hand while he pointed at the detailed instructions.  The boy looked indignant for a second until he realized what Joe was point out to him and then blanched a little. 

  Later still, Tobias was making a mess of things as usual, so Joe quietly wandered over and whispered to him that he needed to slice the dandelion roots lengthwise, not across.  Tobias just scowled at him and kept cutting.   Joe felt it would be wise to back away at this point.  A few times later, he was able to point out other minor mistakes which kept a few of the students from earning scathing remarks from Professor Snape.  Just as he started to feel like he might be able to finish the class without causing any trouble, the teacher tore into Tobias.

  “Mr. Ingersoll, by now this potion should be nice shade of dark blue.  Instead, yours is pea green.  Tell me, did you not hear Mr. Black tell you to slice the dandelion roots lengthwise?”  Tobias’ ears reddened.  “Mr. Black,” Snape ordered, “why did you not make Mr. Ingersoll recut his dandelion roots?”

  Joe swallowed before answering.  “I pointed out correct way to cut the roots as you wrote in line ten.  If Tobias didn’t want to listen to me, I cannot force him to.”

  Snape straightened up and fixed each student with a dark glare.  “Mr. Black is back here to assist me in driving home some sort of knowledge into your thick skulls.  If he suggests you do something, you are to consider it an order from me.  Do I make myself clear?”  Joe just stood there as passively as he could as every student glared at him with undisguised hatred.  Snape turned directly to Joe and said, “Do you think there is any possible way to salvage this mess?”  At this, Tobias clenched his fists, but said nothing.

  There was no way to assuage the other students’ feelings, so instead Joe focused on the question in hand.  He dipped Tobias’ ladle into the green goo and swirled it around before pouring a thin trickle to measure its texture.  “I don’t think it’s too bad.  I believe a few grains of pollen from the flower that produced the root should act as a catalyst.”  He moved to collect the stem from the table, but Snape stopped him.

  “No, you have provided a possible solution, now it is up to Ingersoll to see if it works.”  Snape jerked his head at Tobias who dutifully picked up the flower and searched vainly for any pollen.

  “Just hold it over the cauldron and shake it,” Joe lightly said.  Tobias frowned at him even harder, but looking back at Snape, did as Joe suggested.  “Now continue from line seventeen.”

  Tobias began stirring as directed, and slowly the green slop turned into a dark shade of blue and thickened.

  “Well, well, Mr. Ingersoll.  It looks like you will receive full marks after all.  Fill me a flask for grading and then clean up.”  Snape remarked before he left to oversee some Ravenclaws.  Joe hoped that this would change Tobias’ initial feelings towards him, but it seemed like he was even more angry with Joe. 

  As class ended, Joe made to leave first, but Snape held him back while the rest filed by, some of them pointedly snubbing him.  Even Liana and Lyseria seemed to hold the day against him.

  “Well?” Snape whispered as the last student left.

  “I do not think they were happy having a classmate help them.”

  “If you’re going to be an accomplished potions master, you are going to ignore the feelings of others who are jealous of your talents.  Your solution was unusual, but it worked.  Full marks for the day.  I expect nothing less for the rest of the term.  You may go.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen

The Magician’s Apprentice

  The next few days were very trying for Joe.  On the one hand, he was trying hard to avoid everyone he could so that he could forget what he called “the incident.”  That was proving harder than he expected.  No one in the first years seemed interested in talking to him, but all around him he could hear the whisperings as the gossip spread.  Even worse, Warrick had become openly hostile to him at all times.  Sure, his living accommodations had improved greatly because of Snape’s involvement, but Warrick wasn’t letting him enjoy living in a quiet house.

  On another hand, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Snape had said to him.  Until then, he hadn’t really given much thought as to what he was going to do with his life.  But now, potions master; what could he do with a title like that?  Maybe it was something he could specialize in like pharmacy or medicine.  Maybe he could become a doctor, or what did they call it?  A healer.  Wasn’t that what Ollivander and Flitwick kept telling him?  Only now, it seemed like a possibility.

  One part of his life that didn’t seem to change was his relationship with Luna.  Oh at first she was not speaking to him, but he had assumed it was because Slytherin had beaten her house’s team at Quidditch.  Still, she smiled at him every time he walked into second year potions and would occasionally write things like, “snargle roots make better syrups for frothersnaps” or something equally unintelligible.  At these times, he would smile back and be glad he didn’t have to respond.

  Thus it was very unexpected when she spoke outside of class one day, “How are you doing today, Joe?”

  “What?” he stupidly asked.  “Oh, uh.  I guess okay.”

  “Saint Gertrude’s festival always makes me feel refreshed after it’s over,” she cryptically remarked.  Joe had no idea what that meant, but just nodded to continue the conversation.  “Oh, you don’t have to remain silent now, Joe.  The festival is over.”

  “I’m sorry, but what?” he asked once more.

  “Saint Gertrude’s festival.  You know, when you take a vow of silence to your friends for a week.  You’re only allowed to converse through goblin sign language or hinky-punk babble tongue.”

  “Oh.  I had no idea.  I thought you just wanted some peace and quiet for a while.”

  “That’s okay.  No doubt you could use the holiday after last week.”

  Joe felt a little uncomfortable about where this was going.

  “Now then,” Luna continued as she unpacked her cauldron for the day’s lesson, “we’re supposed to exchange helpful suggestions to each other as a means of starting the new year.  Hmmm, let me think about it.  I know.  I think you should try to have more fun.”

  That caught him by surprise.  He was sure she was going to say something like, ‘stop moping’ or ‘be a man.’

  “Now then, what would you like to say to me?” she asked.

  Joe’s mind raced, trying to sort out the jumbled mess of mixed emotions and thoughts.  “Well, bear in mind that I wasn’t aware I was supposed to come up with something like this, but if I had to say something to you that I never would before….” He struggled to think up something before class started, “Uh… Oh! I know; I really liked your book you gave me for Christmas.  I think maybe you should do something like that for a living; you showed some remarkable talent.”

  She twisted her head slightly in thought.  “Really?  I never gave it much thought, but I rather did like writing about all the unusual animals you never find in text books.  Maybe I could become a field researcher and discover new magical animals.  Thank you, Joe.” She smiled dreamily as she said this.

  Joe was actually referring to her illustrations and thought that maybe she could become an artist or some sort, but he just kept that to himself and smiled back.  The idea of Luna writing a field biology book—well, he hoped she wouldn’t make a book that bit people!

  For the rest of the class, Joe focused only on the lecture, absorbing every word Professor Snape said.

  Speaking of magical creatures (fictional or otherwise), Professor Hagrid seemed to be a changed man.  First there was fire salamanders, then later crups, and today, clabberts.  Although the lessons had improved, Hagrid seemed more uptight and distracted, barely focusing on the day’s lesson.  The Hufflepuff students were worried, but the Slytherins seemed happy about the whole affair.  However, since Joe was keeping his distance from them, he never heard what was going on.  One thing Joe did notice though, whenever class was over and the students had left, he frequently saw Hagrid lope over to a fenced in field and gently stroke a hippogriff that had been staked in the middle of the pasture.  It would have been nice to have a lesson with regards to the hippogriff, but Joe figured that animal had been deemed off limits this year.

  Tonight, Joe actually had dinner with the rest of the school, although he did limit himself to a section of Slytherin table that had very few students.  It was his first time in the Great Hall with everyone else; for the past week, he had been either getting to meal times late, early, or finding a quiet spot in the kitchen to eat.  Something about talking to Luna today made him feel like he had to make the attempt.  Didn't make it less harder though.  He felt like some small insect under a magnifying glass, trying hard not to attract attention, yet feeling staring eyes from everywhere.

  He made it through dinner somehow with no noticeable problems.  However, just as he thought he could make it to the Slytherin common room unscathed, a hiccup in the plan presented itself in the form of Cecil Warrick.

  "Well look who finally crawled out of his hidey hole," he snidely told his friends in a voice that carried throughout the main hallway.  "Did the big scary boggart make you cry?"

  Several of Warrick's friends chuckled while other students from various houses tried their best to ignore the group.  Joe felt they had the right idea and kept his pace even, forcing his mind to stay calm and not to react.

  "What's the matter, Black?  Gonna go back to your room and cry some more?  I guess I would too if it turned out my dad was a mountain troll!"  That brought a few more gales of laughter from the older Slytherins.  "Is that why you turned out the way you did?  Big, stupid, and ugly?  No wonder you like living in that cave you call a bedroom!"

  Several Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students strode past Warrick on their way to who knows where.  Joe made the attempt to join them, to find a little safety in numbers; perhaps he would go to the library instead of his room, he thought.

  Warrick had other ideas though.  He and two of his friends stepped in front of Joe, blocking his path.  "What's the matter, Black?  You too good to talk to us?"  Joe stood there, trying to look as non-threatening as possible without looking like he was afraid.  He wasn't afraid in fact, but he knew that when dealing with the Bernards of the world, the best way was to give them nothing to fight.  Hammer on a rock long enough, you get tired and find something else to do.

  "I cannot for the life of me figure out how a low-life half-squib like you managed to get into our house," Warrick tersely whispered.  "You are obviously no pure blood and your skills are pathetic.  You're probably a mud-blood to boot!" 

  New term for Joe; he'd have to look it up later, but right now, the best option was still to remain impassive.  Joe saw a blood vessel in Warrick's temple pulse a little.  Well, if nothing else, he'd have some enjoyment of aggravating Warrick by doing nothing.  He switched to staring into Warrick's dark eyes, feeling the hatred and jealousy roil off of the older student before he shut the emotional stream off.  Several seconds of this staring contest passed before Joe broke it by saying, "Well, if you've nothing else to say, I'm going to the library."  He stepped past Warrick and company and resumed his walk upstairs.

  Warrick apparently wasn't going to let it go.  "So what is your mum then, Black?  A stinking giant, perhaps?  Barely able to talk?"  Despite his best intentions, Joe stopped in his tracks.  Sensing a weakness, Warrick went on.  "Maybe she's a dirty little Muggle; that would explain your smell.  Is that it, Black?  You're nothing more than the gross result of an American troll and some London who--"

  Joe didn't remember closing the distance between him and Warrick, or grabbing the older boy by his robes and hoisting him several inches off the ground and slamming him into the stone wall.  His first rational thought was the scared and puzzled look in Warrick's eyes as he struggled in Joe's grip.  Sensing Warrick's own weakness, Joe gathered all the anger and hatred that had been boiling deep inside him, focused on the older boy's eyes and somehow put the fear of Joseph Black in the boy.  Terror emanated from Warrick like waves crashing on a shoreline.  Joe thought he even smelled urine.

  Looking square into Warrick's eyes, Joe said in an even tone, "If you ever talk about my mother in such a disrespectful manner again, I swear to you no one will ever find your body."

  "JOSEPH BLACK!!!  PUT HIM DOWN NOW!!"  Professor McGonagall's voice stridently rang out in the stone hallway.  Something about the sound of her outrage wiped all the fury out of him.  He instantly released Warrick, who dropped to his knees before he scampered away, and assumed his typical passive stance; hands folded in front of him, eyes pointed to the ground.

  This was going to be bad, he thought.  He had royally screwed up.

  "What is the meaning of this?  Fighting in on school grounds!  Explain yourself now!"  McGonagall demanded.

  "No excuse, ma'am," he said softly.  "I lost my temper."

  McGonagall eyed him for a second or two before turning to the other Slytherins.  "What's going on here?  You, Roberts, answer me!"

  The Slytherin boy named Roberts mumbled that Warrick was merely teasing Black when Black suddenly tore into a rage and threatened to kill Warrick.

  "That's not true!" exclaimed some Gryffindor student.  "Black was walking up the stairs while Warrick was taunting him about his mum and dad.  Black ignored him right up until Warrick about called his mum a street walker, and then all Black did was pick him up and told him never bad mouth his mum again!"

  That wasn't exactly what Joe said, but right now, he wasn't going to do or say anything until he was forced to.  Instead, he was glad to just stand there like a stone statue as a few other students gave McGonagall conflicting reports.  She finally shushed them all and turned to Roberts.  "Find Warrick and have him report to Professor Snape's office.  We will be there momentarily.  You," she said looking at Joe, "will follow me!"

  Before setting off, she flicked her wand in a general direction and something small and cat-like raced down the hallway.  She led him to the dungeons where they arrived at Snape's private rooms.  She curtly knocked at the wooden door and waited for a silky voice to say, "Enter" before opening it.

  Yes, this was not going to end well, Joe thought.  Snape was closing a book as the two of them strode inside.  "Professor McGonagall, what a pleasant surprise.  And what do I owe the pleasure?"

  McGonagall ignored his velvety sarcasm and tartly responded, "Two of your students were fighting in the main hall.  The short of it, Prefect Cecil Warrick was hazing Mr. Black here until he threatened the prefect with bodily harm."

  Snape merely said, "Sit." to Joe to which he promptly complied.  "And where is Warrick at this time?" he quietly asked McGonagall.

  "I'm not sure; he ran off when I found them almost at blows.  I've sent Roberts to find him and to send him here."  She turned away slightly before continuing.  "In addition, I've sent for the headmaster as well."

  No one said anything after that, and in the stretching silence, Joe was dreading what that meant.  He was going to be expelled.  Nothing else to it.  A small part of him wondered who would win the betting pool.

  Snape broke his reverie with, "And why do you think the headmaster needs to be distracted with an insignificant problem of misconduct?"

  "You know full well—"

  But before McGonagall could finish her sentence, Headmaster Dumbledore arrived escorting Warrick.  The boy looked even more scared than he was before, like a rabbit cornered by wolves.  Joe even spotted a damp area near Warrick's waist.  McGonagall noticed it as well, and with a look of mild disgust, waved her wand once more and made it vanish.

  "I am to gather there is something you wish to share Minerva?"  Dumbledore said quietly.

  "I caught Mr. Black and Mr. Warrick fighting in the hallway," she responded.

 "This is a Slytherin affair that will be handled by me," countered Snape.

  "Look at the state of Prefect Warrick, Severus!" she cried out.  "And tell me that this is a trifle!"

  Snape instead calmly got up and made a presentation of checking Warrick's eyes and ears.  "A fear charm, by the looks of it.  Nothing a little Pepper Up potion won't cure."  He produced a small bottle from a cabinet and coaxed Warrick to drink it.  "It is a just reason for ten points and a week's worth of detention, but again, nothing that warrants summoning the headmaster considering his schedule nowadays."

  Warrick did seem to calm down, but every time he tried to look at Joe, he would flinch a little and look away.  The few times the two made eye contact, Joe could feel a hint of terror behind Warrick's eyes.  Either Snape's potion wasn't working or else that wasn't a simple fear charm Joe had cast, and Joe was confident in Snape's potion making.

  "Cecil, why don't you have Justinian walk you to the infirmary?  Tell Madam Pomfrey I will be there momentarily to look in on you," Dumbledore gently said to Warrick as he walked him to the door.  As the door closed, Dumbledore turned back to the two teachers.  "Minerva, Severus, I was wondering if the two of you would permit me to talk to Joseph privately?"  Professor McGonagall looked as if she had won a major battle while Snape merely nodded and quietly walked out into the hallway.

  Once more, Headmaster Dumbledore waited for the door to close, before he turned to face Joe.  "This is not good Joseph."

  "I know, sir," Joe responded quietly.  "I suppose this means I will be expelled then."

  Dumbledore merely sat in Snape's chair and looked at him rather than answer.  Finally, he said, "I want you to tell me everything that happened tonight that may have fostered the brawl."  Joe started to protest that it wasn't a brawl, but Dumbledore held up a hand, "I would like to think that I know you well enough to know you would never resort to violence unless there was no other way.  So, something has changed.  Let's start with tonight please."

  Joe too a few deep breaths and started with the end of the meal, him walking out to the main hallway, being hassled by Warrick and ending with him picking up Warrick and threatening him.  He left nothing out, knowing somehow that Dumbledore would know if he did.

  "And you did not pull out your wand and cast some sort of hex or jinx on Cecil?" Dumbledore asked.

  "Not that I'm aware of," he answered honestly.

  Dumbledore sat there saying nothing, only pausing to scratch his broken nose once.  "Professor Lupin mentions that you may have driven off a dementor the night everyone came to school.  Could you describe that for me as well?"

  Joe was puzzled as to why this was important, but obligingly recounted his actions on the train. When he was done, Dumbledore asked, "When you demanded the dementor to 'back off,' did you notice anything else?"

  "Well, only the bright white light of what I presume was Professor Lupin's patronus driving off the dementor.  I mean, it was pitch black on the train, so there might have been more than one of them, but I couldn't see to well."

  "Quite.  Tell me, during the attack at the Quidditch pitch, did you by chance come across another dementor?"

  That really surprised Joe.  He was sure he and possibly Warrick and his friends were the only ones who knew of that event.  "Y-yes, sir."

  "I thought as much.  You see, I talk to Markos Ollivander as well," Dumbledore said as he grinned slightly.  "Could you describe those events for me as well?"

  Joe wasn't sure where this was going, but once more recounted that day's events as best he could, even commenting on how he got sick afterwards, even though it embarrassed him.

  "And this dark mist you describe, was it like fog issuing from your wand?"

  "No, it was more like.....well, like if you drop a bit of black ink into a bowl of clear water, and it kind of spreads out like spiky tentacles.  Sort of like that."

  "I see.  Do you have your wand on hand now?"

  "Yes, sir," Joe said, reaching into his bag and pulling out the slick bone.  He made to hand it to the headmaster, but instead, Dumbledore got up and bent over to examine it as Joe held it out to him.  This went on for several minutes until at last the headmaster straightened up and walked over towards Joe.

  "I would like to hold onto that for a few days, Joseph, if you don't mind," Dumbledore said mildly.

  "Mind?  You're welcome to it!"  Once more he held it out for Dumbledore to take, but the headmaster shook his head slightly. 

  "No.  If you don't mind, I would prefer if you would pack it in the case you keep it in."  Joe quickly found the case and placed the wand inside, snapping the lid shut with a little more force than he intended and practically shoved it into Dumbledore's awaiting hand.  "Bear in mind that this is not a permanent confiscation.  I merely wish to examine it in greater detail.  I believe I can loan you a wand during its absence.  Now then,"

  Dumbledore opened the office door and motioned the two professors back inside.  Clearly they had a discussion of their own while Joe and the headmaster spoke, and from the looks of it, Professor McGonagall was unhappy about something.

  Dumbledore allowed the two to settle their countenances into masks of politeness before addressing them.  "Joseph and I have had a detailed discussion with regards to tonight's events.  It is my decision that there will be no house points deducted and that the only detention Mr. Black shall receive is that he must come to my offices at eight o'clock twice a week until I decide otherwise."

  "Sir, he is of my house," Snape began.

  "Yes, Serverus, I understand what you are about to say.  However, I feel that this is important enough to merit a few hours of my time."  Snape respectfully bowed his head to the headmaster and said nothing else.

  McGonagall on the other hand was flabbergasted.  "Professor!  Do you mean to tell me that this boy will receive no punishment?"

  "Seeing how Joseph is not to be blamed for his actions—"

  "Not to be blamed for his actions?  The boy cursed a prefect!  Think of how that will look to the other students!" 

  "Minerva, I suggest we discuss this at a later time.  Joseph, I think it would be best if you went straight to your room and rested.  I will see you tomorrow night."

  Knowing a dismissal when he heard it, Joe walked as quickly as it could without breaking into a run.  Once he reached the Slytherin common room, he strode immediately to his room in the lower basement refusing to listen to the muted whispers all around him.  He thought of doing some homework, but his mind was a whirl of emotion so instead, he quickly dressed for bed and tried to fall asleep.

  However, he couldn't calm down enough to do so.  Yes, he was still allowed to stay at Hogwarts, and yes, he had managed to skirt through this whole mess without a single form of punishment.  Yet, now he would have to see Headmaster Dumbledore twice a week and that couldn't bode well.  He was a nice enough person, but to receive that much personal attention from the Headmaster had to be bad news.  And he somehow knew without any evidence that most likely it would focus on what he had seen in the boggart trunk.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen

The Game of Cards

  Joe got up at his usual time even though he had little sleep.  Normally he would go upstairs and wait for Lyseria to arrive and the two of them would find some sort of distraction until the rest of the group woke up and joined them for breakfast.  However, ever since he got back from Christmas vacation, Lyseria had been avoiding him, so no games of snap or gobstones before breakfast.  Then with the incident with the boggart, Joe hadn't wanted to see her, so he had been avoiding staying in the common room for any longer than what was necessary.

  Joe decided to change that as of today.  Like he had done in the past, he headed to the common room and sat at their usual table, shuffling the pack of wizarding cards he had bought last year.  When no one showed up, he began a game of patience which truly was a game of patience since the cards would randomly explode, ruining runs of sequential cards.  Half an hour passed before any of the first years arrived, and when they did, they skirted around his table and avoided looking at him at all.  Joe allowed them the chance to leave the common room before he got up and walked to the Great Hall.

  When he got there, he found the group huddled together at one end of the Slytherin table, talking in soft voices. 

  "May I join you?" he asked quietly.

  Several of them visibly jumped at the sound of his voice, the girls refusing to look at him.  Anatolio had a look of scorn while Icarus was indifferent.

  "So, are you leaving after breakfast?" asked Icarus.

  "No, I haven't been expelled," he answered.  That grabbed all of their attention; the girls stared at him in disbelief while Anatolio mouthed, "You're kidding!"

  Icarus spoke for all of them, "I would have thought they would have sent you packing after what happened last night.  I mean, you hit a prefect after all."

  "I think McGonagall did want me gone, but the headmaster had other thoughts on the matter.  And no, I didn't hit a prefect."

  The whole group was sitting upright, focusing on every word that he and Icarus said.

  "Well, from how I heard it, you did something to Warrick and it's no secret to the house that he had it in for you.  He hasn't returned from the infirmary yet so all we have to go on is what his mates say.  So what do you have to say?"

  "When I left the dining hall last night, Warrick got into one of his moods and started in on me.  I for the most part ignored him until he said a few choice words about my mum.  I lost my temper and slammed him up against a wall and told him to shut his mouth.  McGonagall caught me at that point.  End of story."

  Icarus looked as if he didn't believe him.  "Why would Warrick be in the infirmary if you just slammed him up against a wall?"

  Joe sighed, wishing he could have just ended the conversation there.  "When I confronted him, something happened.  I don't know what, otherwise I'd tell you.  I think that is why McGonagall was so worried.  Dumbledore too, but he didn't show it as much as she did.  All I know is afterwards, Warrick wasn't acting like himself, so Dumbledore sent him off to the infirmary for a while."

  Several of them paled at his statement.  "What did you do to him?" Violet whispered hoarsely.

  He looked back at her before turning away.  "I wish I knew.  You know what, suddenly I'm not feeling so hungry anymore.  I guess I'll catch up to you later in class." And with that, he left the Great Hall.

  The day passed without further incident, but Joe did find it a little unsettling that no teacher called upon him to answer a question or asked him to perform an exercise.  It was just as well considering he didn't have a wand, but still, he expected he would have had to explain that interesting little bit of information at least once during the day.

  McGonagall was obviously refusing to acknowledge his presence which in itself was unlike her.  Usually Joe felt she was impartial to every student, but not today.  After class, she even called him aside and told him that there would be no evening sessions in the immediate future.  A surge of anger swelled up inside him and it took him a few seconds to calm himself down.  That in itself was somewhat frightening to him; he'd never felt that strongly irate about anything before.

  Potions was even more unnerving because it was the first class he had with another house.  Normally the Ravenclaws were either indifferent or slightly annoyed at his presence; today, they all acted a little uncomfortable around him.  After ten minutes of feeling like a bully in a class of five year olds, he gave up helping the Ravenclaws and stuck to helping only the Slytherins, and only if they looked desperate.

  Finally evening came and much as he wished he didn't have to, Joe found himself once more at the entrance of Dumbledore's office.  He knocked and was told to enter.  Joe was surprised to see the large desk that commanded attention had been replaced by a simple table and two comfortable chairs.  Dumbledore welcomed him inside and asked if he had a pleasant day. It was all eerily disturbing in how unusual the headmaster was acting.  He mumbled an answer and was asked to make himself comfortable at the table.  Half expecting some sort of rigorous examination, Joe was caught by complete surprised when Dumbledore pulled out a deck of cards and began shuffling them by hand. 

  "So, care for a game of Gin Rummy?"

  "Uh.  Sir?" was all Joe could manage to say.

  "I've have it on good authority that you are an excellent player.  It has been a long while since I've had the opportunity to play, so I was hoping you could indulge me."

  Joe could think of nothing to say, so instead nodded gamely.  Dumbledore dealt them a hand of cards and they played in silence.  Surprisingly, it was over rather soon when seven turns later, Dumbledore announced, "Gin!" and laid his hand down.  Joe was a little surprised at the quick win and wondered if maybe a little magic was responsible.

  Dumbledore's eyes twinkled a little as he shuffled the cards once more. "A game of five hundred then?  And if I may make a suggestion, practicing your Occlumency skills while you play would make Professor Snape happy."

  Joe was a little astonished.  "You were seeing my cards in my mind!" he accused.

  The eyes twinkled a little more.  "Well, when your opponent leaves himself so open, it would be shame not to take advantage of it.  Do you wish to deal?"

  Joe reluctantly took the cards and gave them a quick shuffle before allowing Dumbledore to cut the deck.  He quickly dealt out the cards and forced his mind to focus on an image of the lake outside before looking at his hand.  This time, the game took a little longer and Joe almost managed a hand of gin before Dumbledore.  Joe thought tonight’s game might take a little more effort than he usually had when he played his mom.  He gathered the cards and handed them to Dumbledore to deal.

  "If you don't mind me asking, sir, exactly why are we playing cards?"

  Dumbledore kept shuffling as he answered, "I assume you mean to ask, 'don't you have better things to do with your time?'  Despite what you may think, I really don't have much to do here.  Look at the portraits up on the walls," he pointed at the various paintings of past headmasters who were in various states of slumber, "If this was a lively office, don't you think they would have posed while awake?"  One of the paintings snored loudly at this remark.

  "Perhaps they're all taking a well deserved rest," Joe commented.  He could have sworn that the snorer half chortled at his remark, but he focused on Dumbledore instead.

  "Well, let's just say that sometimes a person needs to find time for fun every now and then," Dumbledore cryptically remarked.

  They began the next hand in silence.  After two turns, Joe said casually, "One of my classmates said the same thing to me.  That I needed to have more fun."

  "Very intelligent girl, Miss Lovegood," Dumbledore answered.

  "How did—nevermind."  Several more turns passed before Joe continued the discussion.  "But aren't we here to learn?  I would expect you would want me to focus on my lessons, try to learn as much as I could in hopes that I could join the third year students."

 Dumbledore stared thoughtfully at his cards before discarding one.  "It is important do your very best in class, but it is equally important to find something that you enjoy doing and do that as well.  Otherwise, you'll spend your life completing task after task with no real direction in life and twenty, thirty years later, you discover that your whole life revolves around filling out forms or filing reports.  Not a satisfying life, I assure you.  It's why Hogwarts hosts the Quidditch games, or allows gaming clubs like gobstones and dueling."

  "Dueling club?"

  "Perhaps a bad example.  Lasted only one year, and was before your time."

  "Had little in participation?" Joe quipped.

  "No, an incompetent instructor.  No injuries, if that's what you're thinking.  At any rate, it does give me an idea.  I want you to think of all the activities you like to do, and write me a list.  Think of it as a homework assignment if that will help."

  Joe nodded but said no more.  About half an hour later, the game ended with Dumbledore barely winning.  "Excellent game!  I'll have to mention it to Professor Vector next time I talk to him, maybe we could find a fourth and play canasta."

  Joe had gotten over his initial wariness and felt bold enough to say, "Sir, I was expecting something else."

  "Oh really?  Like what?"

  "Well," he steeled himself for the next part, "I expected that you wanted to know what happened at Professor Lupin's class."  There, he had said it.

  Dumbledore sat back a little, "But I already know what happened in Professor Lupin's class.  And I already know of the events that transpired that led to what happened as well.  What I would like however, is for you to talk to me about them."

  That was a complete turn around.  Joe stiffened a little in his chair and mumbled, "I don't want to talk about it."

  "And thus we play cards.  So there you are."  The phoenix bird hopped down from its perch and landed on Dumbledore's shoulder, stroking its beak against the headmaster.

  Joe thought about all Dumbledore had told him and its unspoken meanings. He knew that Joe liked to play cards and was good at rummy.  That had to be mum; he had played that game with no one here.  Also, Dumbledore was humoring him (possibly) with card play because when he and his mum played, they frequently talked about their day.  Obviously Dumbledore had spoken to her about his dad as well.  If that was true, why all the drama?  Why the pretense and subtle coaxing to get him to talk about things?  Dumbledore knew already, so what was the point?  It didn't need to be rehashed.  Joe didn't like not knowing what was going on, but he had no way to dodge out of this.

  Instead, he decided to change the subject.  "Headmaster, I was wondering about the bone wand," he softly said.

  "Ah, yes.  I almost forgot about it."  (Joe seriously doubted he did, but made no remark.)  "Would you care to take a glance at it?"  When Joe said nothing, Dumbledore stood up and slowly walked over to a nearby side table where sat the wooden case.  With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore opened the case and stood beside it.  "It is most interesting.  Please, come take a look and tell me your thoughts."

  Reluctantly, Joe stood over and gazed at the disgusting thing.  Sure enough, it was as he had always remembered it; slightly grey in color, like living bone, fairly long and thick with a bulge near one end where the bone had mended itself from an old break.  Absent-mindedly, Joe rubbed his left arm.  Wait a minute....

  "Sir, that's my forearm!  I mean, that's the bone in my forearm.  Isn't it?"  He said, slightly shocked at the meaning.  "Why didn't it turn back?"

  Dumbledore bent slightly to study the wand.  "Yes, Joseph, I do believe that is your radius bone.  Strange that it sits here.  As to why it does, I am ashamed to say that I currently do not know why, and I find that most troubling."

  Joe thought hard about the implications.  "Sir, if the wand itself is still here," he pointed at his forearm, "wouldn't that mean I can still use it? That I somehow used it on Warrick?"

  "That would seem the case," Dumbledore offered. "Perhaps a test then?  Try a charm, something small."

  Joe thought for a second and remembered something one of the older Slytherins had mentioned.  Waving his left arm like it was a wand, he pointed his limp hand at Dumbledore and whispered, "Densaugeo."

  Almost instantly, the headmaster's front teeth began to bulge out of his mouth and would have grown to the floor had the man not stopped it with a wave of his wand.  Joe just looked at the headmaster in horror, while Dumbledore muttered something to himself and stared once more at the bone in the wooden case.

  "S-sir, I'm sorry; I didn't know!"

  "Oh no need to apologize, Joseph.  We wanted to test your theory, and I believe we got a satisfactory result.  Perhaps not the one we wanted, but it does definitively prove your theory."

  Joe looked once more at the grisly item.  "S-sir, would you do me a favor and pick it up?"

  "Hmmm?  Oh, I see your point.  Most likely would work; let's test it was well."  Dumbledore gently picked up the bone and as soon as he touched it, two things occurred.  One, the bone wand changed into a slightly longer but thinner white bone and two, Joe's arm started to tingle.  Dumbledore then placed the wand back into his carrying case where it shrunk back to its original size and yellowed considerably into an old bone.

  Dumbledore smiled at him, "Brilliant deduction, Joseph."

  "But you already knew that, didn't you?  It's the reason why you refused to take it last night until I placed it in its case." Joe accused.

  "Well, let's say I suspected.  I was hoping that it would revert back on its own."

  "So why didn't it?" Joe demanded.

  "As I said before, I honestly don't know." 

  Something in the way the headmaster said that irked Joe a little, "But you have a theory.  A suspicion."

  "Merely a speculation with no facts to support it.  I would rather have more time to observe before reaching a conclusion.  Still, that means you have no wand for school work.  Let's see if I can remedy that."  Dumbledore walked over to a cabinet and pulled open a drawer.  "I admit that I do not have the extensive collection of wands like Markos, but I suppose we can find something.  Come here, Joseph.  I want you to see if one of these will work for you."

  Joe peered inside the cabinet and saw about a half dozen wands lying haphazardly in the drawer like a bunch of unused pencils.  It seemed like an odd way to select a new wand considering the extensive episode at Mr. Ollivander's.  In the end, Joe just closed his eyes and selected one at random.

  "Very good.  As Markos has not doubt told you before, this wand will not give you as good results as the one you currently own.  However, it should be adequate for classroom work.  Well then, it is getting rather late and I am sure you will have a very busy day tomorrow.  Let's continue this, say after tomorrow?"

  Joe could only nod in bewilderment.  With a quiet, 'good night,' he left the headmaster's office and found his way back to his room.  It was still a little early for turning in, and he really didn't feel like reading, so instead he just lay on his bed and stared at the new wand.  It was very odd in his hand; it felt too small and too light for use.  There wasn't that warm feeling he always felt when he held his wand.  Maybe that was good thing, though.  He tried a few times to turn the lights out with the new wand and finally managed on the fifth try.  It was going to be difficult using it.  Still, it was better than waving around that macabre thing, wasn't it?  A small part of him was unconvinced.

Chapter Text

Chapter Sixteen

Biscuits and Snaps

  The next week settled into a fairly quiet routine; he attended classes and did little to involve himself with discussion or question and answering, he continued to hover like a wraith in Professor Snape's first year class, trying his best to assist the younger students without being too overbearing, and he continued to play cards with Headmaster Dumbledore, although he now rarely spoke to him.  His homework piled even higher as the teachers started to gear up for the end of class.  Even Dumbledore's personal time was laced with some of the strangest writing assignments.

  First, there was the list of activities he thought was fun.  It was a very short list.  Then there was the essay of people he admired, followed by a paragraph of what he did during a typical day.  Just two days ago, Dumbledore asked him to try out each club, 'just to see if he'd like it.'  So far, he had checked out the Chocolate Frog Card Collectors (all they did is talk about the cards and occasionally trade—very boring) and the Gobstone Club (pretty much a time to play gobstones and equally boring); he decided to skip the Broomstick Racing Club and the Dangerous Charms for Cool Wizards Club; the latter especially when it turned out to be run by a couple of Gryffindor twins, and was most likely nothing more than an excuse to hex people for their own amusement.

  No doubt, Dumbledore wanted him more involved with some sort of social activity, but to be honest, Joe wasn't the most sociable person.  It wasn't that he disliked people, he just had a hard time conversing with them.  More so since everyone now thought he was an overbearing bully.

  That, he thought, was an even worse problem now.  Warrick made no attempt to associate with him; in fact, he wouldn't even stay in the same room as Joe, finding excuses to leave at the slightest whim.  For that reason, Joe didn't like to stay in the Slytherin common room anymore than he had to; either students glared at him for running Warrick off, or founds reasons to leave themselves.

  Then there was the time Nicholas wanted him to go with him to talk to some Hufflepuff students.  Joe had no idea what was going on until Nicholas started making insinuating threats to the two boys about some money they owed him.  Joe was being used as muscle.  Incensed, Joe told Nick in a terse voice that he wasn't a thug, and then turned around and told the two Hufflepuff students that if they owed Nick money, they should pay off their debt.  Nicholas got his money, but he never bothered Joe with another request like that again.

  One night, Dumbledore asked him point blank, "So, why don't you start a potions study group?  I hear you are an excellent mentor."

  "Who would want me to help them?" he scoffed.

  "Oh, you might be surprised."

  And thus, the Potions Study Group was formed.

  Or rather, that was how it was supposed to go.  Joe placed flyers in the Slytherin common room and in the main hall, but no one showed up at the library on its first meeting.  Or the next meeting.  He had decided to give it all up until one Saturday morning at breakfast he heard Gretchen lament the class's previous potions homework  "Honestly, who does he expect to remember all of that?  And besides, it's not like we'll ever use it in real life.  I hate it!"

  Joe surprised everyone including himself when he responded, "But it's not that hard.  It's just like baking cookies."

  All of them stared at him in mild shock.  This was the first time he had spoken to any of them in weeks.

  "Baking what?" Violet asked

  "Cookies.  Biscuits, whatever.  Surely you've all baked biscuits with your mum before," he said, hesitantly looking at all of them.  They all looked back at him as if he had sprouted horns from his head.  "You mean to tell me none of you have baked biscuits before?  Not with your mum or grandmum?"

  Violet rolled her eyes before she responded, "Cooking is house elf work."

  Joe rolled his eyes in return, making a big show of it.  "You've got to be joking!"  Suddenly, he had a strike of inspiration.  "I've got an idea then.  Everyone meet me in the main hall by the bust of Helga Hufflepuff in ten minutes."  He got up to leave, but Anatolio stopped him.

  "Why?" he sneered.

  "Like you've got anything better to do?  It's cold and rainy outside, I doubt anyone of you want to study, and it'll be fun; trust me," Joe left them all before anyone else could respond and raced out to the main hall and down one of its secondary hallways.  Finding the portrait of fruit, he tickled the pear and opened the portrait to the kitchens.  Sure enough, the place was bustling with activity.  He tried to figure out who would be in charge here, but gave it up as a lost cause.  Instead, he stopped the closest elf and asked him, "Pardon me, but I was hoping you could help me."

  "Of course, young master!" the elf squeaked.

  "I have a group of students that I'd like to bring down here to show them how to bake biscuits, but I figured I should ask for permission first."

  "House elves do all the cooking, young master!" the elf exclaimed.

  "I know that," he said patiently, "this is more for a study hall.  An example on how to do classwork.  If there was a free place where we could just, you know, mix some batter and bake some biscuits.  We'd clean up afterwards, I promise!"

  At that, the elf looked scandalized.  Before Joe could say anything else, another elf joined their discussion.  "It's okay, Dusty, he means well.  I'm Blenda; I believe we've met before, young master Black?'  Come to think of it, the elf did look familiar.  "I think we can spare a kitchen for you.  When will you be here?"

  "In about ten minutes if that's okay.  If not, I can schedule for later."

  "Ten minutes will be acceptable.  Just wait here until I come to lead you to the kitchen," and with that, she bowed and resumed her work clearing away dirty breakfast dishes.

  Joe ran back to the Great Hall and looked around for a second.  Spying the Ravenclaw first years, he strode over to their group and asked them point-blank, "How many of you hate potions class because it doesn't make sense?"  All of them looked at each other hesitantly before a few of them cautiously raised their hands.

  "Alright, how many of you have cooked with your mum or grandmum?  Biscuits, pies, whatever."  Again, they looked at each other, now in a confused worried state, before turning back to him; only one raised her hand.  "Right.  What is it about wizards and cooking?" he muttered to himself.  "Okay then, everyone, follow me."  He took a few steps towards the main hall.  No one had gotten up.  "Come on now.  Let's go!"  Finally, one boy—Pennywise, he thought—got up and started to follow him.  Just as he expected, with one following him, the others had no choice but to come along as well, if not out of curiosity, then to make sure nothing happened to their classmate.

  Just as he was walking by the Gryffindor table, he spied Neville reading a letter.  "Hey, Neville, what are you doing today?"

  "Oh!  Uh, nothing I suppose," Neville weakly answered.

  "Good, come with us then."

  "What?  Why?"

  "Come along and find out," Joe figured if he told him, Neville would decline, but leave it a mystery and he would burn with curiosity.  Sure enough, by the time he made it to the bust of Helga Hufflepuff, Neville was following along.  Most of the Slytherins were waiting as he hoped they would be.

  "What's with this crowd?" Violet sniffed

  "We're all going to find out right now.  Where's Anatolio and Nicholas?"  Joe said as he realized who was missing.

  "They both decided to leave about a minute ago.  And where exactly are we going?" she crossed her arms to show a little defiance.

  "Well everyone follow me and you will find out soon enough!"  The hook for Neville was a good one; let everyone think there was some sort of mystery and they'd follow him if for no other reason than to satisfy that urge to know.  He soon led them back to the fruit portrait and down to the main kitchens.

  "Why are we heading for the kitchens?" a boy with a yellow sash asked.  Joe hadn't noticed him before, but he wasn't about to turn him away.

  "To learn about potion making of course," he responded, "trust me, it'll be fun."

  When they got to the main room, he had them wait until Blenda found them all standing there, in which she led them through the bustle of working elves and into a large side kitchen that was free for use.  Everyone seemed very surprised to see so many elves working down here.

  "Okay then," Joe said to get their attention.  "It has come to my attention that just about none of you have ever spent a Saturday morning baking biscuits.  So--"

  "What does that have to do with potions?"  Violet asked him coldly.

  "Everything!"  Just then, Joe got a whiff of what a nearby elf was cooking in a large saucepan.  "Look, everyone come over here and watch this guy.  Hello there, my name's Joe.  What might your name be?"

  "Whisker, young master," the elf responded and bowed, never slowing his stirring of the mix in the saucepan.

  "Pleased to meet you, Whisker.  Alright, everyone let's look at what Whisker is making.  If I'm not mistaken, we have butter and sugar melting together and stirring over heat.  So what does that make?"

  The whole group looked helplessly lost.

 "That was a trick question; don't worry so much.  How about this?  What is the difference between lollipops, toffee, and, oh, treacle?  Give up?  The answer is heat."  The whole group looked at him like he was crazy.  "I'm serious!  Most candy, aside from whatever flavoring you add to it, is nothing more than sugar and butter.  Sometimes you might add cream, but that's a whole other topic.  The point is, the way you can make all these things depends on how hot you boil them.  Low heat for a little time, you get treacle; little more heat, it turns into caramel, then toffee; add still more heat and peanuts, you get peanut brittle.  It takes lots of practice and patience to get good enough to know how much heat to add and when to start and stop stirring.  I'm willing to bet Whisker here has done this for years."  The small elf merely nodded as he stirred constantly.

  "So...you're going to have us make toffee?" Adelie asked skeptically.

  "Perhaps by the end of school term, but today we're going to make something a litter easier—chocolate chip cookies!"  He began to dig out various mixing bowls and large spoons and sat them on the long counter.  "Everybody grab a bowl and spoon.  I'll find some ingredients and then we'll begin."

  Folks looked very unsure of this idea, but one by one, they hesitantly picked up a bowl and found a spot on the counter to work.  As Joe brought out large sacks of flour and sugar, a basket of brown eggs, and huge mound of butter, he began to instruct them on exactly what they should do, step by step.  It took the group a while to get accustomed to mixing and measuring, but within fifteen minutes, the students were happily chattering while they worked, Joe occasionally checking on them while he mixed up his own batch of cookies.  At one point, a Ravenclaw girl asked how she was supposed to make chocolate chips out of the thick bar of chocolate and when Joe showed everyone that the simple solution was to wrap it up in a clean towel and then bash it repeatedly with a tenderizing hammer, everyone stood there in silence.

  "What?  You've never wanted to smack something hard with a blunt object?"  Joe asked the whole group.

  Soon, the whole room was filled with the sound of students maniacally smashing chocolate with glee.  "Okay, tone it down a little; we want chips, not powder."

  Several minutes later, their side kitchen was filled with the heavenly smell of baking cookies.  As they waited, a few of them started a quick game of snap while one pair set up a chess board and tried to play as others gave them advice.  Joe settled into one corner and worked on some of yesterday's homework.

  When the cookies had finished baking, Joe had the students place them in rows on the stone counter to cool and clean the dishes and countertops.  A few of the Slytherins complained about doing this, but eventually joined in.

  "Now, I want to show something to you.  Here, we have a row of biscuits that are a little flat and slightly brown on the edges—the person who made them used a little too much butter in the mix and the flour and egg couldn't hold them together as well as they should.  Here, we have some fairly large cookies, but they're slightly doughy in the center—the person made them too large for them to be baked evenly.  Here, someone made them too small and instead of being soft and chewy, they'll be brittle and crunchy.  I point all of this out because despite being slightly different from each other, they are still going to taste good.  In fact," he had a quick jolt of inspiration, "why don't we split them up?  There's twenty-three of us, and everyone made two dozen, so each person take one from each batch, that way you can compare them  Share them with friends as well."

  "Are we going to do this again?" asked one of the Ravenclaw girls, hopefully.

  Joe really hadn't thought of it, but... "Sure, why not?  Next Saturday then?"  Everyone heartily agreed as they filed out, a small basket of biscuits in hand.  Just as Joe was satisfied everything was put away and started to leave, a familiar voice stopped him.

  "Well done, Joseph.  What would you like to call your club?"

  Joe turned to see Headmaster Dumbledore sitting at a small table with a drink in hand.  He was a little alarmed to see the man sitting there so quietly and wondered if perhaps he was out of bounds with having students in the kitchen like this, but surely Dumbledore wouldn't be this laid back if he had done something wrong.

  "We're just baking biscuits, sir.  I don't see a reason to formalize it into a club."

  "Well, I hope you make it a regular occurrence at any rate."

  Joe didn't have a response for that, so instead, offered the basket to the headmaster.  "Biscuit?"

  "Why thank you, don't mind if I do."  Dumbledore took one and sampled it.  "Not bad for a first time."

  "I think that was one of Lyseria's." Joe commented. 

  "Charming girl, once she gets to know you," Dumbledore idly commented.

  "We used to play games every morning," Joe commented though not really knowing why.

  "She's had her feelings hurt," Dumbledore responded, "although it was nothing you did."

  Joe sat down across from the headmaster and was immediately given a glass of milk by a passing elf.  He bit into a cookie and drank some milk to wash it down as he parsed the meaning of Dumbledore's remark, but couldn't think of anything or anyone that may have hurt Lyseria so.  He really wanted to ask Dumbledore for more advice, but couldn't bring himself to ask.  All his life, he had been an observer, not a talker, and this seemed like a sensitive subject.

  Dumbledore finally relented in the ongoing silence and continued, "If it would be of any help, I suspect that by now, she is willing to make up, but doesn't know how.  Perhaps a peace offering by you?"

  Joe looked at the wizard but said nothing of the matter.  Instead, he changed the subject; "Were you looking for me, sir?  Any more information on my wand?"

  "As a matter of fact, yes, there was something I had in mind and wanted to know if you could come to my office tonight.  No card playing, I assure you."

  Interesting how he put it, or rather, the lack of information.  "Sure.  Same time then?"

  "Excellent!"  Dumbledore stood up and brushed imaginary crumbs off his robes.  "Please tell Miss Edwards that her first try in baking biscuits was delightful."  And with that, the headmaster left him alone in a crowd of busy elves.

  After cleaning his plate and glass, Joe decided to find a little solitude in the library.  Just as he was climbing the third floor staircase, he unfortunately heard a voice belonging to a person he did not want to see.  He quickly backed down the stair and ducked into a nearby classroom as he heard Professor McGonagall say stridently, "I've already told you, Wood, I will return Potter's broom if and only if I deem it safe!"

  The Wood person said something, but most of the words were muted through the wooden door.

  "Oliver, that is enough!"  They must have been walking close by because McGonagall's voice sounded like it was inside the room.

  "But professor, with a firebolt, we have a chance at the cup!"  Joe could hear the other person clearly now.

  "I said that is enough!  No, Oliver, I mean it; any more out of you, and I'll remove you from the team.  Honestly, you seem like the cup is more important than Harry's well being!  No!  Not another word, I mean it!"

  Even though he heard their footsteps clatter down the hallway, Joe waited several minutes before he worked up the nerve to leave the room.  Interesting conversation though.  Apparently the Potter boy had a new broom that McGonagall had appropriated, though why, he hadn't a clue.  Now that he thought about it, he seemed to recall that Oliver Wood was the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, wasn't he?  If so, he'd be concerned about one of his players having his broom returned for the upcoming Quidditch match—Ravenclaw and Gryffindor were playing next weekend.  Firebolt:  where had he heard that word before?  Joe tried to recall when he heard that term but nothing came to him.  His best bet would be to ask one of the Slytherin players.

  Hmmm, now there was a thought.  Perhaps he could use this information to get back in the good graces of the Slytherin house?  But who would he to talk to....

  Racing back down the staircase, Joe searched as unobtrusively as he could through the various study rooms, the great and main halls, and even the Slytherin common room before he stopped to think things through.  Today was Saturday and that meant the Quidditch team was practicing.  Well, more likely they were hanging out at the pitch and pretending to practice while they waited out this rainstorm.  At any rate, the team wouldn't be back until a half hour later, plus they would want some time to clean up before they settled down to relax by the fire.  So in about an hour, he would look in the common room again.  Okay then, he thought, find a means to kill time for an hour and then he'd be able to find the person he was looking for.  Not a problem.

  Realizing this would be the most sensible thing to do, Joe was about to head back to his room when someone in the common room caught his eye—it was Lyseria sitting at their usual table, looking like a lost puppy.  Joe was about to ignore her entirely when Dumbledore's words came back to him.  Whatever it was that bothering her, she wanted to make amends but didn't know how.  Inwardly he sighed to himself, but decided he should at least make an attempt to patch things if he could

  Joe walked over to the table and sat opposite of her, and stared at the same blank patch of stonework she focused on.  He thought he saw her take a tentative look at him, but she remained fixed on the wall.

  "Lyseria," he said quietly, "I do not know why you are mad at me.  Whatever it is, I am sorry.  I'd make it up to you if I could, but that would require that you tell me what is wrong."

  Lyseria just sat there, mute.  It was really hard for Joe to get a good read of her mood since she wasn't looking directly at him, but he thought there was a mixture of anger and sadness about her.  After about five minutes of silence, Joe really wanted to just leave her here, but felt that wouldn't be the best thing to do.  Instead, he sighed and pulled out his deck of cards and began shuffling them for no other reason than to keep his hands busy.  Maybe he could use one of Dumbledore's tricks, he thought, and started dealing cards for a round of snap.

  At first, Lyseria just sat there, unwilling to pick up her cards, but slowly she gathered them into a fan and reluctantly started to draw cards from the deck when it was her turn.  On the third snap, they both reached for it and Joe found himself holding her hand.

 Lyseria reflexively looked up at him, but quickly turned away.  Sensing an opening, Joe gently but firmly refused to let her hand go, pinning it in place all the while the Jack of Hearts squirmed under their hands, protesting it couldn't breathe.  Joe ignored it and instead focused resolutely on Lyseria, refusing to say anything until she did.

  Finally in a soft wavering voice, she mumbled, "You left me."

  "What?" he responded, being very confused.

  "Christmas holiday, you left me.  All of you left me!"

  Joe's first impulse to say that he had already explained all of this to her before, but knew it wouldn't help one bit.  Instead, he tried a slightly different tack, "Yes.  During the Christmas holidays, I went home and visited with my mum."  He hoped admitting that statement would somehow get her to explain why that was so important.

  Wait a minute.  Something did occur to him.  "Lyseria, you stayed here at the castle during Christmas, didn't you?  Why didn't you go home?"

  She tried vainly to pull her hand out of his, but he refused to let it go.  She was clearly upset where this was going and he felt like a complete heel doing this, but something inside him told him to hold on until she let it out.

  "Let go of me!"  She got up and started to hit him with her free hand, but it was like a small kitten swatting a large unmoving mastiff.  Joe was very relieved that they were the only two in the common room at that time.

  "No.  I'm not going to let go.  You didn't want me to leave, so I'm not, but I'm not letting you leave until you tell me what's wrong.  Why didn't you go home for Christmas?"

  "Because I don't have a home!" she yelled at him before she fell into the chair once more and began to cry in earnest.  "I don't have a home." she said to no one in particular.

  Joe was shocked at the revelation.  First, he wasn't sure what she meant by that, and he wasn't sure what he should say or do in response.  Instead, he just sat there, and kept holding her hand while she faced away from him, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her robe.

  "Everyone leaves me," she muttered quietly, "and nobody cares."  Joe noticed that she no longer tried to pull her hand from his grip.  Instead, she sat limply in the chair, defeated and exhausted.

  "I care," he finally answered.

  "You do not!" she retorted.

  "I do too," he said gently.  "Had I known that you would be here all by yourself, I would have tried to stay behind so you would have someone to be with.  Granted, mum probably would have been unhappy, but I think she would have understood.  If you want, I'll see if I can stay for Easter if you want."

  She said nothing, but made no other attempt to pull her hand away or leave.  Joe searched in his bag for a tissue and handed it over to her.  She accepted it and wiped her eyes once more.  So they sat there for ten minutes or more, like a young couple holding hands on a first date.  Once more, Joe was sincerely glad that no one was in the room to witness any of this.

  Finally, Lyseria made a small effort to remove her hand from his, and this time he let it go.  She stood up started to leave, but just as Joe stood up as well and began collecting the cards on the table, she turned around and hugged him fiercely.  Joe had no idea what to do, but in the end awkwardly hugged her back.  This was very uncomfortable for him, but he resisted the urge to step away.

  They stood like that for a few seconds before Lyseria softly murmured, "Don't tell anyone, okay?" before she quickly let go of him and ran up the stairs to her room.  All Joe could do was just stand there and watch her leave, having not the slightest clue as to what was going on, but unwilling to ask as well.  Still, he understood that people didn't like to share personal information, so he had no problem of keeping all of this to himself.  Instead, he calmly picked up all the cards and replaced them in has bag as he walked to his room to think about the recent exchange between him and Lyseria.

  It wasn't until dinner time that he remembered he had been waiting for a certain Quidditch player.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seventeen

Evanesco Dolor

  Joe didn't see his quarry in the Slytherin common room or later at dinner.  Quite to his delight though, Lyseria was waiting for him in the common room and accompanied him to the Great Hall.  They didn't speak, but Joe felt that they really didn't have to at that point.  Violet made a quip about the fighting lovebirds were finally back together that made Lyseria scowl a little, but Joe paid her no mind.

  Later in the evening, he found himself once more in Headmaster Dumbledore's office, but like his first time before, Dumbledore was not to be found.  So while he waited, he slowly walked around the room peering at the various items displayed on tables or inside cupboards, never daring to touch anything.  As he passed by a silver teapot that spouted small puffs of pink smoke, he noticed a small book opened on the headmaster's desk.  Curious, Joe circled around desk to get a better look, but sadly, it the text was written in what appeared to be Latin.  It appeared to be an old charms book, though.  At least, he thought it was; pictures showed an old wizard making motions with a long wand.  One paragraph and drawing caught his eye—the diagram was titled 'evanesco dolor' and showed a wizard surrounding himself with what looked like a fine web of black tendrils.  It looked somewhat familiar, but Joe couldn't remember where he had seen it.  Surely, not in Flitwick's class.

  "Ah.  And so you cut to the heart of tonight's meeting, Joseph."

  Dumbledore's voice startled him a little as he hadn't heard the old wizard come into the room.  Joe felt a little embarrassed in being caught snooping around the room, but merely stood up straight with an air of deference to the headmaster.  It wasn't like he was here uninvited; if the headmaster didn't want him looking at this book, he shouldn't have left it out in the open.  So instead of apologizing, Joe said, "I think I've seen this one before, sir."

  Dumbledore silently strode across the room to stand behind him and peered at the book.  "As I suspected.  This is....unfortunate."

  "Sir?"

  Instead of explaining, Dumbledore instead crossed the room to open a cabinet and pulled out the wooden box that held Joe's wand.  Opening the box, Dumbledore offered it to Joe, "Would you do me a favor, Joseph, and merely touch the wand?"

  Joe hesitated a second, but figured nothing could be gained by refusing the headmaster so complied.  The wand changed immediately into the longer, slightly darkened bone that he remembered.  After a few seconds of contact, Joe removed his hand, but the wand refused to change back to its original form.

  "Well, there does appear to some noticeable change; that is certainly good news at any rate."  Dumbledore continue to examine the wand without any further explanations.  Joe wanted to demand answers from Dumbledore, but held his tongue.  He was sure that he just waited patiently, everything would eventually be explained.  Instead, he too focused on the wand and tried to determine exactly what had changed.  It certainly looked the same as before.  Same slight bulge near one end, same slightly greasy feel, same—hold on....

  "Sir, is it me, or has it bleached out a little in color?"

  "Oh, I don't think you're imagining things, Joseph."  Joe waited for more, but Dumbledore continued to merely examine the wand with little regard to his visitor.  Joe finally gave up and sat down in a chair, trying his best to remain calm while the headmaster ignored him.  Finally, Dumbledore straightened up and casually touched the wand.  It briefly lengthened before returning to its original shape when Dumbledore removed his hand.  Joe felt a momentary tingling sensation when the headmaster did this, but made no mention of it; if Dumbledore wished to hold things back, he could too.

  Dumbledore settled himself behind his desk and sat down, steepling his fingers on the desktop while he stared intently at Joe.  He wanted to flinch from that piercing blue gaze, but somehow managed to keep his cool and stare back.  He was briefly rewarded with a glimpse of a memory of a teenaged boy, but it quickly dissolved before he could make out any details.  Similar things happened to him in his practices with Professor Snape; Snape told him that they were old memories that were hard for the owner to completely suppress.  Joe wondered who that boy was in Dumbledore's mind, but didn't dare ask.

  Breaking the silence first, Joe baldly asked, "So, is that all you wish of me?"  Even though he didn't say the implied 'are you going to tell me anything?' part, he still felt it was probably a little too demanding and wished he had kept quiet.

  Instead of berating him, Dumbledore just smiled slightly and said, "I would have to say that you are entitled to a few answers before you leave.  Where would you like to start first?"

  Joe thought for a few seconds, wondering what would be the best way to start.  He finally decided on what he thought might be the least sensitive question; "Why does it refuse to revert back after I let it go?"

  Dumbledore looked down at the small book before him as he answered.  "Professor Flitwick and myself are not one hundred percent certain, but we believe it is because the wand has, uh, taking a liking to you, as it were.  Mr. Ollivander was being quite sincere when he told me that he felt the two of you were a perfect match.  As such, the wand is tying itself to you in a very personal way, replacing its very being with one of your own bones.  In time, I suspect that the wand will become fused inside your body.  Or perhaps I should say, your own bone will become the wand."

  That was a shocking revelation to Joe.  He sat there in silence as he tried to absorb all the implications.  "That sounds...bad." was all he could say in response.

  Dumbledore smiled slightly.  "Not necessarily, I think.  I believe this may be a normal occurrence for such an item, and most likely you will never notice any difference once the process was complete.  I do believe that once the transference is done, you would no longer be able to perform magic 'wandless' as it were.  Sort of a benign side effect in the mean time, so to speak."

  Not really sure how he should feel about that, Joe posed his next question; "Why is it changing color?

  "Well, we are not completely sure on that matter.  Professor Flitwick believes it may be the living bone itself necrotizing while it is outside your body."

  "You mean its dying?"  Dumbledore nodded.  Joe subconsciously began to massage his left arm.  "But do you believe that, sir?"

  "I admit that this is a subject that I am grossly inadequate in understanding.  Magic of this nature is very unpredictable, seemingly wild at times.  For that reason, I can only make speculative opinions based on my research, no more."

  "And?"

  "I believe that there may be an emotional component to this transformation."

  Joe had to sit there a while to puzzle out what Dumbledore was trying to tell him. "So....my moods affect the creation of this new wand, is that what you're saying?"  Dumbledore nodded once more.  "How does that affect the wand itself?"

  Dumbledore sighed a little, "Well, you've heard Ollivander's take on the wand, a tale of bloodthirsty revenge or possibly a tale of selfless dedication to forgive and heal.  I think that both stories may be true, that the wand may focus itself on the desires of the current owner."

  "So a happy wizard means a happy wand?" Joe quipped.

  Dumbledore nodded once more.  "Yes, and a powerful one too.  Remember, this particular wand creates a unique link between the wizard and his source of magic."

  "So, you're saying if I only accept this...'change,' I could become a very powerful wizard."

  Dumbledore looked slightly away from him, before answering.  "It is possible, but I would also say that powerful wizards and witches come in many forms."

  Joe once more had to mull over what Dumbledore was not saying before he remembered the dark wizard who terrorized Britain while he was safely away in America; even now, students only whispered his nickname: 'You-Know-Who.'  He stared hard at the headmaster, wondering if the man worried he would turn out to be the same.  Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "Did you know him?  The Dark Wizard, I mean?"

  Dumbledore glanced back at him before looking away once more.  "Lord Voldemort?  Why yes.  He was a student here when I was just a professor."

  Even though he suspected as such, it was still a shock to hear it from the headmaster.  To think that here sat the teacher of a man whom everyone feared to the degree that few would dare speak his name.

  "Do you believe I might turn out as bad as he did if I kept the wand?" he asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

  "No, Joseph.  I don't think you would turn out like Lord Voldemort did.  You two have very little in common."  Joe could hear the sincerity in the headmaster's voice; otherwise, he would have felt the man was humoring him.

  Joe sat there, pondering what this might mean for him.  Suddenly, he recalled the spell he saw in the book on Dumbledore's desk.  "Evanesco dolor.  That's what I've done against Cecil Warrick, isn't it?"

  "I suspect you have used that spell several times," Dumbledore dryly commented.

  Joe frowned and thought back to other times he could have possibly performed the spell.  "Do you mean the dementor attacks?"

  Dumbledore raised one eyebrow slightly and nodded.

  "But how could I?  I haven't heard of it until tonight," Joe protested.

  "Best I can figure, this is from an old style of magic based on emotional nuance rather than incantation.  The words make the spell work more effectively, but it is not required in some cases."

  "What does it do then?  What did I do to Warrick?"

  "This particular spell forms the caster's rage into a barrier that will both protect the user and attack the perceived threat.  Of course, it will not work against non-living hazards—there's nothing to intimidate—but against other people, it's rather effective."

  Joe reflected on what the headmaster told him.  "That day with Warrick, I sensed that I somehow placed a...sense of fear of me in him.  And the dementors; I when I ordered them to go away, did I do the same to them?"

  "Being creatures of fear and loathing, I highly doubt it.  However, you showed them that you were something like them so they left you alone.  I've often wondered how dark wizards could control dementors; I believe I need to thank you for showing me how they do it.  I would like to stress that repeatedly using this particular spell, or others like it, would be detrimental to your well being."

  Joe was quiet for several minutes, trying to digest everything that had been told to him and what it meant with regards to the bone wand.  If he was honest with himself, he actually torn between keeping it and not keeping it.  There was a certain amount of horrible fascination about the wand's potential, no doubt about it, but could he trust himself to use it responsibly?  Look at what he had done before he knew what he was capable of.

  "Sir, what would you do if it were your decision?"

  Dumbledore inhaled deeply and leaned back in his chair before answering, "Joseph, I will freely admit to you that I am a poor choice to ask advice in this decision.  At your age, I would have chosen to accept the wand but for all the wrong reasons.  Even now, I could not be sure that what I would choose would be for the best."

  "I think I would like some time to think about all of this before I decide."

  "Understandable.  Well then, I imagine you have had more than enough time in my presence tonight, let's say we call it a night.  Until our next game of cards then."

  Joe got up and said goodnight.  As he turned to leave, he glanced once more at the bone wand that lay in the wooden case.  Could he really trade a part of himself for power?  His gut feeling said no, but again, if he was really being honest with himself, there was a certain amount of appeal to the thought—maybe he was in the right house after all.

  Once more, he found himself walking through the Slytherin common room, ignoring the stares from various students.  He almost walked straight to his room but saw the person he was looking for earlier that day and turned to talk to him.

  "Draco, could I have a word with you?"

  The blonde-headed boy sneered at him slightly, his two henchmen trying to drive him off with their scowls alone.  Joe did his best to not show any hesitation around them; he was about equal in their size, but there were two of them and if it came to blows, they would most likely win.

  Draco finally deigned to answer him.  "Well what is it then?  I'm busy."

  "This afternoon, I heard Professor McGonagall and the Gryffindor Quidditch captain speaking.  Wood was asking if Harry Potter could have his broom back, but she said he couldn't have it until she was sure it was safe."

  Draco smirked at this information, "Figures.  Saint Potter falls off his broom and now everyone's afraid he'll get a scratch.  No matter; it helps us in the end, not like he was that good a Seeker to begin with."

  "There's more; Wood was begging her to let Harry have it back.  Said with a Firebolt, they stood a chance to win the cup."

  Draco blanched slightly at the mention of the word, 'firebolt.'  He quickly recovered though, "No.  There's no way Potter has a Firebolt.  Never in a million years."

  "I'm merely telling you what I heard.  Wood wanted Potter to get his broom back so that he could practice on it.  McGonagall said he could have it back only when she was satisfied that it was safe.  Wood begged for its return, saying with a Firebolt, they stood a chance at the cup.  She responded that Wood sounded more concerned for the cup than Potter's safety.  At that point, they were too far away to hear.  I figured I should tell one of the Quidditch players so that you'd be ready for whatever this information means."

  Draco said nothing for a few seconds before saying, "Well, they're playing Ravenclaw in two weeks.  We'll see what it is then, won't we?"

  "Fair enough."  Joe turned to leave.

  "Black.  You'd better be right about this, that Potter can't have his broom.  I seriously doubt he has a Firebolt." Draco drawled.

  "Like you said, Draco; we'll see in two weeks."

  Wrestling into his pajamas, Joe thought about the day's events.  First, he made some progress with Dumbledore's insistence of being more sociable.  Whether or not the group of students would continue to meet in the kitchen on a regular basis was different story, but the headmaster couldn't fault him for not trying.

  Then, he had heard something that might help his house retain the Quidditch cup if it were true.  From what folks said at the dinner table, Gryffindor's only good player was Potter and if he was out of the game, Slytherin should sweep the cup with no problems.  So why did it bother him so much?  No, it was stupid really, to worry about a sporting event—it had no reflection on how he would do in school, so why bother about it?  Besides, he did his job and passed the information on to those who needed it; if anything, that should help in his standing with the house.  No, the Potter boy was distraction; something to be aware of, but not really something to focus on.  Let Draco and his group fret about it.

  Finally, more information about the bone wand.  It was apparently a very powerful whose cost came with a personal sacrifice.  Was the cost worth it though?  Dumbledore said he probably wouldn't notice any physical change if he decided to take the wand permanently, but was he really sure about that?  Could Joe make a decision based on Dumbledore's hunches.  Plus, the headmaster made it sound like his own personality could dictate what the wand could be used for.  The wand was attuned to magic that dealt with the body; did that mean he could be adept at hurting people as well as healing them?  Judging the confrontation with Warrick, it seemed so.

  Joe idly rubbed his left forearm as he thought about this.  He had always told himself that he would not be a bully, and yet in less than one school year here, he'd already mentally pummeled someone into submission.  He had already justified it with telling himself that Warrick really deserved it, but in reality he knew that wasn't an acceptable excuse.  No, if he was really honest with himself, he really couldn't trust himself with using the wand only for benign purposes

  It was bit of a letdown really.  Although he would never admit it to anyone, the thought that he could be a wizard to be reckoned with, someone of power and respect, it was a heady thought.  All his life, he felt like a nobody, and here it seemed was his one chance to be someone important, to be the person that everyone knew by name.  Again, being totally honest with himself, he really wanted that badly.

  But as he thought that, another name popped up: You-Know-Who.  Everyone knew who that referred to, even if they weren't even born at the time of his apex.  Even now, people feared to say his name even though many thought he was dead.  Despite his wildest desire, that was something he would not allow himself to be; someone feared.  He had spent too many of his years living in that kind of fear, he would not be the person that caused that in others.

  With this new resolve, Joe knew what he must do.  First, find a way to fix whatever damage he had done to Warrick.  Yes, he despised the older student, but Joe would not be able to live with himself if he knew he had caused Warrick that much terror.  Second, he would try once more to return the bone wand to Mr. Ollivander.  It was too much of a temptation to keep; best if it was done as soon as possible.  There would be another holiday at Hogsmeade soon—he would slip out to Diagon Alley and make his case to the wandmaker then.  Yes, it was a large disappointment; he was willing to admit that emotion to himself.  However, he knew it was the right decision and that it really didn't matter if he never became a noteworthy wizard.  What really mattered was doing the right thing—everything else was secondary.

  The next two weeks went by fairly fast with very little change.  Lyseria resumed their morning game time with no further comment on their past misgivings.  Joe was interested to know what Lyseria meant when she said that she had no home, but refused to press the issue.  If she wanted to talk, she’d talk; he couldn’t do anything to speed up the process without risking their shaky peace.

  Saturday morning drew some interest when the Gryffindor Quidditch team entered the Great Hall for breakfast.  Sure enough, in the center of the group marched Harry Potter bearing a brand new sleek broom.  Judging from the number of people from the other houses that crowded around the team, the broom was something special.  Joe took a quick peek at the Slytherin team; Draco turned white, while the rest registered shock.  Joe couldn’t figure out what could be the problem—it was just a broom.

  He risked talking to Draco, “So, am I right?
 

  “Yeah, it’s a Firebolt alright.  No worries though; we have a plan,” remarked Draco.

  The match was a complete disaster for Slytherin, Gryffindor won hands down.  The speed of Potter’s broom was unheard of; Joe had a hard time following him as Potter flew through the air.  The Ravenclaw Seeker tried her best to keep up and throw Potter off the trail of the Snitch, but it really was of no use.

  Worse still, near the end of the match, the whole school saw Draco and his friends’ plan for dealing with Potter.  Three large, darkly robed figures strode onto the pitch, appearing to all as a small group of dementors.  The crowd started to react with panic, but was frozen in place by the reaction of the Gryffindor Seeker.  Instead of falling off his broom, Potter pulled out his wand and yelled something Joe couldn’t hear.  A silvery mass jetted out of the wand and charged down the robed figures, who tried their best to get out of the way.  One of them tripped and staggered into the others, causing all of them to fall over.  From there, everyone in the stands could tell that these were not dementors, but were instead a group of students pretending to be so.  Almost instantly, three quarters of the stands began to yell at the Slytherin students, some of them throwing objects.  If it weren’t for the fact that Potter soon caught the Snitch, Joe expected the other three houses would have driven the Slytherin students out of the stadium.

  It was disgusting.  Even though Joe was not happy that the Gryffindors had defeated Ravenclaw, he was embarrassed to be part of a group that would pull such an underhanded trick.  The rest of the first year Slytherins were upset with the match’s outcome, but he figured it was more because of the Gryffindor win rather than the unsportsmanlike conduct.  For the first time, Joe didn’t want to be seen with them, but quite understandably no other student wished to associate with him.

  Just as he hoped everything had settled down that night, the whole house was thrown into chaos when Professor Snape woke up everyone at two a.m. and had the prefects search all the rooms.  Once that was done, he told everyone in the common room that Sirius Black had managed to sneak into the Gryffindor house and attack a student.  Although no one asked, Snape assured everyone that no one was hurt and that all of the professors were searching the entire school for Black.  At that, everyone stole a glance at Joe; he just stood there and tried to act like it didn’t bother him.

  The next morning, Joe saw that the entire castle in high gear to prevent a future attack.  Large security trolls were seen patrolling the upper levels, while Professor Flitwick was seen teaching the front door to recognize Sirius Black from an old black and white photograph.  In the great hall, one of the Gryffindors was acting out the attack for a large group of onlookers.  As Joe passed by, several of them gave him a furtive glance.  He had expected such a show, so he refused to let it bother him.

  Monday morning was even more of a trial than before.  It started with breakfast when Neville became the laughingstock of the whole school when he received a howler.  People could hear the booming voice of some elderly lady screaming about how he had brought shame to the family name.  Then there was Herbology with the Gryffindors.  Needless to say, the two groups of first years spent the whole class either whispering snide remarks at each other or throwing puffapods when Professor Sprout wasn’t looking.  Joe did his best to ignore both sides.  Second year potions was no better, Joe finding himself dealing with both second year Ravenclaw students and a group of second year Hufflepuffs both hostile to him.  Even Luna seemed a little standoffish.

  “It was a rather dirty trick,” she quietly said as they stirred crushed nettles into their cauldrons.

  “You’ll hear no argument from me,” he mumbled.  It seemed to mollify her a little, but they didn’t speak any more for the rest of the class.

  Care of Magical Creatures was a little better.  While the Hufflepuffs were visibly annoyed with the Slytherins, they didn’t make any remarks and Joe made sure that his group of first years said anything to antagonize them. 

  “They’re just annoyed that Gryffindor won,” Adelie muttered.  Joe knew better, but didn’t want to stir up trouble by disagreeing.

  The worst class for Joe was Charms with the first year Ravenclaws.  The two groups were frosty to each other, and Joe seemed to attract unwanted attention from Liana and her friend.  Several times during class, small items would jet by his desk, narrowly missing him.  He couldn’t tell if it was Liana or her friend, but figured it didn’t matter much.  If Liana wasn’t doing it, she wasn’t doing much to dissuade her friend from doing it.  At one point, he managed to throw up a shielding charm which deflected a wad of gum back at the agitator.  That earned him a five point penalty from Professor Flitwick.  Joe started to object, but quickly remembered that Flitwick was the head of Ravenclaw.

  Inexplicably, Lyseria was annoyed at him for some reason, but wouldn’t tell him why.  It was no win situation, so Joe just figured to call it a bad day and turn in early.  As everyone made to leave at the end of class, Liana tugged at one of his books, causing it to fall to the floor.  It was a puerile act, but Joe was still a little irked.  He took a deep breath and calmed himself down before he picked up his books and packed them in his bag.  As he left the classroom, he found Liana waiting for him in the hallway.  He paid her no attention as he walked by and instead counted slowly to ten.

  “That was a low trick you pulled in class,” she hissed.

  He had to think a bit before he could remember what she was talking about.  “I did nothing but block things being thrown at me.”

  “And you hit me in the process!”

  “Protego deflects the offending spell back towards the person who cast it.”

  “I didn’t do it!”

  “I’m willing to bet that it was someone near you though.”  Liana made no response.  “Look, if you have something to say to me other than to accuse me of throwing spitballs at you, say it.”

  “You know, I thought you were different from the rest of them, but it seems I was wrong.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

  She stepped in front of him to confront him face to face.  “People are saying you let Sirius Black in as well.”

  Joe stopped in his tracks.  “What?”

  “Is it true?”

  For once, Joe was thrown off guard. “Are you completely mental?  Of course it’s not true!  Good God, what kind of person do you think I am?”  His normal calm was briefly stripped away before he caught himself and forced a neutral look on his face.  “Are you accusing me of helping a mass murderer?” he calmly asked her.

  “Leave him alone!” 

  Both of them turned to see Lyseria standing in the middle of the hallway.  Although she was a few inches shorter than Liana, she stood defiantly up to the Ravenclaw girl.  “He hasn’t done anything wrong!  Just leave him alone!”

  “Lyseria, I appreciate the support, but I can take care of myself.”  She looked taken aback by his comment, but stood her ground.

  “Forget it, I was done here anyway,” Liana retorted.  She stormed off, leaving the two Slytherin students behind.

   “I’ve never liked her,” Lyseria stared at the retreating figure.

  “Why?  What has she done to you?”

  “It’s not what, it’s how she acts around me.  Like she’s better than everyone around her.”

  “She just takes a little getting used to is all,” Joe remarked.

  Lyseria turned on him much like Liana had done previously.  “What, so now you’re defending her?  After I stood up for you?  You know what, Joe, just forget I said anything!”  And much like Liana, Lyseria stormed off in a huff as well.  Joe just stood there and stared in disbelief.  Girls, he decided, are just plain nuts.

  Instead of heading back to the common room and risk seeing Lyseria again, he instead decided to work in the library.  No sooner had he reached the library doors, a Gryffindor girl raced out and nearly ran into him as she sprinted down the stairs.  The Granger girl again; another girl acting bizarre recently.  On a hunch, he walked past the study tables in the front, and poked around the stacks, looking at each of the desks squirreled away at the end of each bookshelf.  Sure enough, there was the Granger girl, surrounded by a large pile of books, oblivious to everything around her.  He resisted the strong urge to approach her and ask how he could be seeing her here when he just saw her speed out of the library moments ago.  It was a mystery, but frankly, he was in no mood to weasel out the truth.  Instead, he found a quiet corner opposite the library and began to work on his essays.

  Later that evening, Joe roamed the hallways of the castle with nothing to do.  If he was honest with himself, it was mainly because he had no desire to be around people right now, but couldn’t bear another night staring at the silent walls of his dorm room.  To feel a little better about his lonely walk, he convinced himself what he was really doing was scouting about the castle interior, trying to get a reasonable mental map of the place.  At any rate, he was learning more of the twists and turns within the hallways and managed to find a few hidden doorways behind tapestries.

  About an hour into his foray, he found Neville curled up on a bench, looking like he was trying to find a comfortable way to sleep.

  “Neville?  Good grief, what in the world are you doing?”

  Neville jumped up at the sound of his name and looked all around before he spied Joe quietly walking towards him.  He looked slightly disheveled, like he had been sleeping there for quite some time.

  “Oh!  Hi, Joe.  I’m just sitting here, waiting….”  Neville looked a little abashed being found like this.

  “If you’re tired, why don’t you go to bed?  You look awful!” Joe commented, sitting down beside the Gryffindor.

  Neville wiped the sleep out of an eye, trying to mask his embarrassment.  “Well, I can’t get in without another student to let me in.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  By now, Neville’s face was flushed to a brilliant red.  “I accidentally let Sirius Black in our rooms.”  Joe sat there in shock.  Here everyone was blaming him for the Sirius incident, and it turned out to be Neville?  Something in his face must have registered to Neville because he too looked horrified and held out his hands in supplication.  “No!  I don’t mean I opened the door for him personally!  I…it’s just that our guardian started making up all these passwords and I couldn’t remember them all, so I wrote them down on a slip of paper….”

  “And the teachers think Sirius somehow got hold of that paper,” Joe finished for him.

  “Yeah.  Sir Cadogan said he had the slip of paper and read every one of the passwords off of it to get in.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Neville.  Looks like I’m not the only one in the doghouse then."  Neville gave him a puzzled look.  "All day today, people have been giving me grief about the Sirius attack as well."

  "Why?"

  "You're kidding.  Neville, what's my last name again?"

  "Oh!"  Neville chuckled a little at his gaff, "Really?  But you've said that there was no relation."

  "Yeah, well, couple that with my house and the Quidditch game last weekend, and folks start to make assumptions.  Guilt by association, you know."

  "Yeah.  That stunt with the dementor costumes was a pretty rotten thing to do," Neville commented darkly.

  "You won't get any disagreement from me.  Cost us fifty house points."

  "Is that all you have to say about it?"

  "Well, no.  I'm just saying that the idiots should have known at the very least we'd get penalized points, even if it did cause Ravenclaw to win."

  "Or it could have made Harry fall off his broom again, this time with a worse outcome," Neville grumbled.

  "Oh, that.  Nah, didn't you see Potter fly?  I mean it's like he was born on a broomstick.  Besides, it looked to me that Potter was quite capable of taking care of himself."

  "Yeah," Neville agreed.

  "Listen, another Hogsmeade trip is coming up," Joe said to change subject, "you want to pal around, take in the sites?  I didn't get much time to look around the last time."

  "Can't.  I've been forbidden to go to Hogsmeade any more this year as well."

  "Oh.  Sorry.  Would you like me to pick you up some candy at Honeydukes?"

  "No thanks.  I'm all—"

  "You two!  What are you doing out at this time of night?"  Both boys turned to see a prefect marching towards them.  As he got closer, Joe discovered it was the Head Boy; worse still, he was a Gryffindor.  "Neville, you shouldn't be hanging about with the likes of him."

  "Excuse me?" Joe said, slowly standing up.

  "And you, it is way past the time you should be in bed.  Five points, and it'll be another five points if you smart off to me."

  "Percy, it's alright.  Joe was just keeping me company until I could find someone to let me in." Neville pleaded.

  "Don't worry about it, Neville," Joe said as he started to leave, "I mean, I should I expect anything else?  Goodnight."  He walked a few steps down the hallway before he turned around to see where Neville and the Weasley boy would go.  Not far, it seemed; a portrait of a Reubenesque lady swung open and the two of them scooted into a hole in the wall.  Interesting, he thought.  Of course, he had no way of knowing the passwords to the Gryffindor house, but it might be worth knowing where it was located.

  The rest of the week was little better, but most of the ire shown to him had died down by the end of the week.  No one was accusing him of opening the doors for Sirius any more at any rate.  Tempers between Gryffindor students and Slytherin didn't abate though, as both sides knew the Quidditch Cup heavily relied on who won their match.  With the handily defeat of Hufflepuff, Slytherin house was the favored team to win, but it wasn't a given thing, considering the broom Potter had now.

  The small argument between Joe, Liana, and Lyseria seemed to be turning into something more hostile, but for the life of him, Joe had no idea why.  If Lyseria caught Joe anywhere near Liana, say in a heated debate over the correct way to prune a tentacula, she'd say anything to pick a fight with Liana.  Liana in turn would make snide comments within earshot whenever she spotted Lyseria and Joe walking to class.  Worse still was when Joe happened to be alone with just one of them—the only thing the girl would talk about was how horrible the other was.  Granted, he heard more of this from Lyseria, but that was only because he had more time to listen to her instead of Liana.  Rest assured though, he heard plenty from the grapevine.

  It took Luna to sort things out for him.  "Well of course they're fighting.  They both like you," she dreamily commented during second year potions class.

  "Have you been sitting too close to your cauldron again?" he joked, "Last time I spoke to Liana alone, she accused me of being a raving maniac helping Sirius Black.  And I've only just gotten Lyseria to speak with me again after her silent treatment that lasted since Christmas break."

  "Oh, well that's just them showing their affections is all," she cryptically remarked.  Joe snorted and started to respond, but was stopped short by—

  "Mr. Black, much as the whole class would love to hear about your tragic romantic affairs, we are here to create the shrinking potion."  A few of the students started to laugh at Professor Snape's remark but were quickly silenced by his glare.

  "Yes, sir.  I'm sorry."  He and Luna spent the rest of the class quietly working on their potions.

  However, if he thought that was the last of it, he was sadly mistaken.  As soon as class was over and everyone quickly left the room, Luna picked up the conversation once more.  "As I was saying, that's just their way of showing affection.  Liana was upset when she thought that you might have been responsible for both the Slytherin trick and the Sirius attack, so she wanted to hear it from you that you weren't."

  Joe interrupted, "So Ravenclaw thinks I'm to blame for Draco's mistakes as well?  Unbelievable."

  "No, I think that was something she convinced herself of," Luna continued unconcerned.  "At any rate, judging by what you've told me about Lyseria, it sounds like she really wanted you all to herself for Christmas."

  Joe interrupted once more, "No, she was upset that all of the first years were leaving, not just me."

  "But she held a grudge against you longer than the rest, didn't she?  Love can make you do stupid things, you know," Luna concluded, as if that proved her point.

  Exasperated, Joe threw his hands in the air, "Oh come off it!  They're both eleven years old, twelve tops."

  "And you're a big thirteen year old—"

  "Fourteen," he corrected.

 "—fourteen year old that pays attention to them.  Liana practically thinks you're the knight in shining armour after the train ride.  And as for Lyseria, well you yourself have stated you spend every morning with her alone.  What do you think she'd make of that?"  Luna swatted away something in front of her face.  "Sorry, had a sudden attack of nargles.  What was I talking about?"

  Joe would have laughed had the discussion not be so serious.  "My sordid lovelife?  If you've got this all worked out then, how exactly to I fix all of this?"

 "Oh that's easy," she responded, and started digging in her bookbag.  After several minutes of searching, she pulled out a tarnished silver necklace and fastened it around his neck.  "There.  That'll keep the cupid chiggers at bay."

  This time, Joe couldn't stop himself and did laugh a little.  "And what, by chance, are cupid chiggers?"

  "Well obviously they're the cause to all your problems.  You must not be sleeping with your pajamas turned inside out; that's how they infest your bed, you know."

    Joe reached up and felt the chain that hung around his neck as he closely studied Luna’s face and eyes.  He could discern a hint of amusement underneath a strong sense of sincerity and friendship.  If he didn’t know better, he would have suspected Luna was making fun of him.

  “What are you playing at?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Perhaps you’ll find some use for that.”

  “You are without a doubt a very unusual friend,” Joe said in exasperation.

  “Really?  I wouldn’t say so.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Eighteen

Errands and Transition

  "And so now I'm starting to wonder if this is Luna's way of saying she's interested in something more than being friends, or if she's just being her usual self."  It was Friday night and Joe was talking freely about his week to the headmaster as they played rummy.

  "Well it certainly sounds like you've taken my words to heart," Dumbledore chuckled.  "I wouldn't fret much over it, though.  Like you've said, they're fairly young to be getting quite so serious that you may soon have to start picking out china patterns."  He discarded as he spoke.

  "Not funny.  Gin."  Joe picked up Dumbledore's discard and lay down his hand.

  "Well, it seems your troubles are helping you tonight.  Thirty-five points.  What are your plans then?"

  Joe picked up the cards and began shuffling before answering the headmaster.  "I guess I wear this necklace for a week and then tell Luna it seemed to help somewhat before I give it back, try to persuade Lyseria to keep a civil tongue in her mouth when talking to people, and I guess keep the same in mind when I speak to Miss Stormcraft.  I mean, what else could I do?"  He handed the shuffled cards to Dumbledore to cut and deal.

  "Well, are you interested in any of them?" Dumbledore asked as he swiftly dealt each of them a hand.

  Joe blushed a little.  "I'm just a first year student.  I think I have plenty of time before I start even considering that.  Besides, two of them are at most twelve."  Joe made a show of adjusting his cards before he turned over the top card on the deck.

  "True.  But I've known many couples who were long time childhood friends before they got married."

  "I'd rather not talk about this, if you don't mind." 

  "Fair enough, but I remind you that it was you who brought it up. There's nothing really to be embarrassed about when it comes to love, you know.  Most wonderful thing in the world if you ask me, and it is a pity there isn't more of it."  Dumbledore carefully picked up Joe's discard and discarded the Jack of Hearts.

  "Is that so?  So then you wouldn't mind sharing the tale of your first love?"  Joe quipped as he picked up the Jack.

  Dumbledore smiled as he considered Joe's discard.  "That was so long ago, I'm not even sure if I remember it."  Something in the way he said it made Joe look carefully into the headmaster's eyes.  There was one of those brief flashes of insight, but nothing Joe could make out.

  "Were you ever married, sir?" He casually asked as he drew another card from the deck.  Almost there.

  "Sadly, no.  Many things have happened in my life that prevented me from travelling down that particular course.  But if it is any consolation to you, I feel like all the students here are my surrogate children and grandchildren."

  "Really?  Doesn't it bother you then?" Joe said as he carefully weighed his options.

  "How do you mean?"

  "All the fighting between them.  I mean, surely you are aware of the animosity between Malfoy and Potter.  Why don't you put a stop to it?"

  "Interesting proposition.  I turn the question back to you; why don't you put a stop to the situation if you don't like it?"

  "Are you kidding?  Neither one of them would listen to me.  Draco might be warming up a little to me, but that's mainly because I've been right on occasion.  Potter though; I'm not even sure he knows I exist.  Even if he did, I wear this," Joe said, holding up a green trimmed sleeve.  "I don't think this will win me any favors."

  "Never know unless you try.  As to me stopping hostilities, I would have to say that you severely overestimate my powers of persuasion as well.  Gin."  Dumbledore laid his hand down.

  "Blast, and I was one card away.  Hundred twenty-five.  So how do you handle it?"

  "Well, we have a system of points awarded for good behaviour as well as bad; that helps, believe it or not.  Having a means of healthy competition works as well, but sometimes you have to accept that not everyone will get along.  Since you're not from a large family, you may not believe this but not every sibling gets along with everyone else in the family.  Cases like that, you keep the fist fights to a minimum by limiting contact to major holiday events."  Dumbledore collected the cards and began to shuffle.

 They played through an entire hand with no further conversation.  Midway through the hand after that, Dumbledore brought up another subject.  "Have you by chance made a decision regarding the bone wand?"

  Joe tried not to squirm as he answered.  "Yes.  I have decided that it is probably best for everyone if I purchased a new wand."

  "Well, I guess I shouldn't be too surprised by your answer."

  "Sir?"

  "I understand your hesitancy in this matter, however I had hoped you would understand that just because a potential hazard may be present, does not mean you should abandon the attempt to be the best wizard you could possibly be."

  Now Joe was thoroughly confused.  "But sir, didn't you tell me that you couldn't make this choice for me?  Weren't you the one that said you couldn't trust yourself to make the right decision?"

  Dumbledore smiled gently.  "That is true.  However, at the time I was your age, I would not have even considered the possibility that my actions might be the wrong ones.  In this, you have me at a distinct advantage."

  Joe threw down his cards and rubbed his temples.  "So you're saying that I should change my mind and keep it?"

  "I am saying that perhaps your worries are unfounded.  Still, if you strongly feel that relinquishing it is for best, I will support your decision and wish you well."

  Joe sat back in his chair and thought hard about what the headmaster was saying.  Did he really think that Joe could be trusted with the wand then?  It sounded as such.  But was he merely hearing what he wanted to hear?  No—he had already made his mind up; waffling on the matter would not be helpful.

  "Sir.  I would like to take the case tonight if that is okay with you."  Dumbledore stood up and strode to the cabinet where he kept the wand, unlocked the door, and gently removed the wooden case within.  With little ceremony, he placed it on the table in front of Joe, but Joe could see a little glimmer in the old man's eyes, as if he was happy about something.

  "And in addition, sir, I would like permission to travel to Diagon Alley this weekend during the Hogsmeade trip."  The glimmer seemed to fade a little, but Dumbledore made no further protest. 

  "Very well.  I'm glad you asked me this time."

  Joe was a little startled at the last comment, but realized he should have guessed that Dumbledore knew everything.  Well, almost everything.

  "Thank you, sir."  With that, he got up, picked up the case, and said goodnight to the headmaster.

  The next morning, Joe got up at his usual time, made origami birds with Lyseria for a while, and then joined the rest of the first years for breakfast.  Nicholas pulled him over at one point and asked if Joe could purchase a few things for him.  Looking at the list, noticed that it looked fairly benign, so he agreed.

  "Once you're outside, give it a rub and see if you can pick up the rest, okay?"  Nicholas winked as he said it.

  Joe resisted the urge to hand the list back to him, but instead placed it in his bag without further word.

  Surprisingly Violet approached him next and asked if he could get her a few things as well.  He was reluctant to say yes—many of the items were of a feminine nature—but couldn't see a good way to back out.  Who knows, this trip might go a long way to soothing tempers.

  "Does anyone else want anything?  You might as well make it worth my time if I'm shopping for two."

  In the end, he had orders for various sweets, replacement quills and ink, some tricks from Zonko's Joke Shop, and various sundries.  It was a good thing he had his travelling bag, otherwise he'd never be able to carry it all.

  Afterwards, he lined up with the rest of the older students who were making the trip and was soon inside the town.  He wasn't sure when Mr. Ollivander's shop would open, so he decided to first shop for his classmates.  While he was filling orders in Honeydukes, he remembered what Nicholas had said and rubbed the boy's list in his hands.  Sure enough, several items appeared that would most likely be confiscated.  He made a side trip to the post office and spent a little of his money to hire an owl to deliver a short message to Mr. Fargus.  No doubt, the man would like a little forewarning if he wished to make use of him as a courier.

  With most of his purchases made, he briefly stopped by The Three Broomsticks and swiped more floo powder when no one was watching.  He briefly entertained the idea of travelling to Diagon Alley here, but when he saw all the students sitting about drinking butterbeer, he quickly changed his mind and instead went to the Hog's Head.  As expected, very few people were about and paid him no mind.  Once more, he gave a courteous nod to the barkeep and threw a handful of powder into the fire as he said, "Diagon Alley."  And once more, he was swept away through the green fire, swirling around like he was falling through a huge drainpipe, before he found himself in the Leaky Cauldron.  He checked his watch and saw that he had plenty of time before he had to meet Mr. Fargus.  First stop then was Ollivander’s.

  Unfortunately, the man was no where to be found.  The shop was locked up tight with no sign of proprietor or when he might be in.  Neighboring store owners had no idea when Mr. Ollivander would be in—in fact, many of them had no idea why his store should be closed.

    Frustrated, Joe paused outside of Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.  It was too cold for ice cream, but he comforted himself with a small cup of hot chocolate.  He briefly considered the idea of visiting his mother, but in the end decided it would be too difficult to explain his sudden appearance.  Instead, he finished his drink and went back to Ollivander’s store on the small hope that the man had turned up, but alas, it wasn’t so.  He then spent fifteen minutes or so browsing through the various window shops before reluctantly giving up and instead found himself outside the Londinium Emporium.

  Here he had a little more luck.  Not only was Fargus inside, but he had already put together Nicholas’ little order of contraband.  In addition, there was a smaller, non-descript package along side it plus a few sickles as well.  Joe paid the man without a word and collected the two parcels and money.  True, he should have checked to make sure Nicholas’ package contained everything he asked for, but this implied that Joe trusted the man to make good with the order.  If he hadn’t, well, no more deliveries to his friend in Hogsmeade.

  Ten minutes later, he was dusting off soot inside the Hogshead, and ordered a butterbeer.  Midway through his drink, a heavily draped witch entered the bar and demanded a burning troll-blood.  As she waited to be served, she tripped over one of Joe’s feet and he reflexively caught her before she stumbled, but he was onto this trick and as he asked he she was okay, he looked hard into her eyes and forced a mental message over Fargus’ customer—‘keep your hands off of my stuff.’  It must have worked for the witch, or whoever it was, hesitated a split second before she recovered enough to mumble thanks before taking her drink over to an empty table.  Joe slowly finished his as well and left the bar.

  As he walked down the lane to the main thoroughfare of the town, someone light and fast blundered into him, almost knocking him to the ground.  The figure quickly got up and continued its flight towards the castle.  Joe only had a fleeting glimpse of the student, but he could have sworn it was Draco Malfoy.  What in the world had spooked the boy so much that he was running pell-mell towards the school?  No doubt he’d learn during dinner.

  Joe looked around the town, trying to decide what he wanted to do next.  All things considered, he really had no desire to visit; Hogsmeade was just a means to an end for him.  However, he really didn’t feel like going back to school either.  What he really wanted was to talk to Mr. Ollivander and return the bone wand before he had a change of heart, but the man was no where to be found, blast it all.  He sat down on a sidewalk bench covered in snow and thought.  Without really knowing what he was doing, he reached inside his travelling bag and pulled out the wooden case.  He fingered the carvings and the brass latch for a while, wondering what he should do now.  On impulse, he opened the box to gaze once more at the wand inside.

  What he found inside gave him a start—the wand inside was not the old yellowed bone he had last seen in Dumbledore’s office; it was the slightly grey bone that he knew all too well.  Joe frowned as he tried to recall the last time he and Dumbledore had handled the wand.  He was certain that Dumbledore touched it last to return it to its original form.  So why had it returned to this form?  He hadn’t touched it when he opened the case, had he?   No, he was quite sure that he hadn’t.

  This was an interesting development; had the wand finally made its transition?  His first impulse was to quickly run back to Hogwarts and find Dumbledore, but the more he thought about it, the less he was inclined to do so.  What was he, some pitiful, indecisive individual that had to go find an adult whenever something unusual happened?  All his life, he pretty much handled things on his own, why should this be any different?  Granted, he had planned to return the wand back to Ollivander today, but the man proved hard to find.  Even if he had, most likely this development would have changed everything.

  First things first: he needed to verify that the wand was irrevocably changed and for that, he needed someone to hold the wand, to force it to change once more.  Better still, he needed someone who wouldn't ask questions.  Only one person came to mind.

  With a directness that came from making up his mind, Joe stood up from the bench and purposely strode back to Hogwarts.  His destination was obvious; first, he would find the group of first years and hand over their purchases—that was innocent enough, plus he really wanted to be rid of Nicholas' package before anyone came around to see what he might have.  Joe didn't think anyone knew of his side job, but there was no reason to assume that.  At any rate, it would give him ample time to find and talk to the person he had in mind.

 Fifteen minutes later, he was inside the castle, hunting down his quarry.  As expected, most of them were not in the common room, but he did manage to find Nicholas talking to another Slytherin and handed over the package once the other boy had left.  Nicholas directed him to a few others, and they were in turn happy to see Joe as well.  Finally, Joe found the person he was looking for playing gobstones with a group of other boys down in one of the empty classrooms on the first floor.

  "Tobias.  There you are.  Got your bag of sweets you wanted," Joe said with none of the relief he felt deep inside showing in his voice.  He handed over a small brown sack that Tobias accepted with a mumbled thanks.  "Oh, and I wanted to show you a trick wand I got at Zonko's."  With this, he pulled out his wooden case and presented it to the boy.

  Tobias was a little skeptical.  "What does it do?"

  "Well, pick it up and give it a wave.  It won't bite you."

  Tobias seemed even more reluctant with Joe's last statement, but with his friends watching, he couldn't be seen as being scared of a trick wand, so he hesitantly reached into the case and pulled out the wand.  It slowly changed its shape as he did so to which he and the rest of the boys gasped a little.  Unsure what he should do, Tobias gave it a half-hearted flick or two, but nothing happened.

  Forcing himself not to show any elation at the transformation, Joe grimaced his face a little and intently stared at the wand.  "That wasn't supposed to happen!  It was supposed to turn into a haddock when you tried to use it.  I guess I picked up the wrong one.  Oh well, I guess I could try to exchange it when I go back."

  Tobias quickly put the wand back into the case and resumed his game of gobstones, not even bothering to say goodbye, to which Joe was immensely grateful.  As he turned to leave, something caught his eye—the wand was slowly changing shape once more, but not into the yellowed relic it had once been.  Instead, it reverted back to the greyish bone that was all too familiar to him.  Apparently, the wand had made up its mind; the transformation was complete.

  The next several days went by in a whirl, what with the teachers assigning homework in preparation to final exams.  Joe actually had to buckle down for a change and put a lot of effort into studying in addition to helping the rest of the first years with their work as well.  Many of them were not handling the stress well; for a change, Tobias was actually complaining at the amount of work to be done.  Normally, he'd just grunt or shrug off everything and waste his time with his friends, but not anymore.  Violet and Adelie were frantic, trying to find people who would help them with Herbology assignments or Transfiguration essays.  Everyone was more than grateful with the assistance Joe provided in Potions.

  In fact, a couple of weeks after Hogsmeade, Joe scheduled another cooking class with both the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws.  Some of the original students didn't show up, but it really made no difference on account of the new students who were roped into attending with their friends.  Joe was amazed at the variety of students attending this Saturday;  while he expected a fair turnout of Slytherin and Ravenclaw kids, he was surprised that the Hufflepuff boy—Brion Wood was his name—had brought several more this time, and there was even a couple of new Gryffindors cautiously hanging around Neville.  As a precaution, Joe had everyone change out of their robes and wear plain aprons that the house elves graciously supplied.  No house colors adorned any student which made it a little harder for people to hold grudges.

  Today's lesson involved making treacle fudge.  It was probably a little difficult for most of them, but some of the principles involved in making the fudge were directly related to a few key principles in first year potion making, which he pointed out.  The students of course had a fun time with this particular potions lesson, even if some of the batches of fudge didn't turn out right, but Joe hoped it wasn't only due to the fact that Professor Snape was no where to be found.  He had them clean down their workspace and their bowls and pan while they waited for the fudge to cool, and once more, divided up the batches so that each person received a portion from each batch.  This time, the students happily obliged and were chattering about what was in store for the next lesson as they hurried off, a basket carried in each hand.

  Joe let the sudden quiet settle over him and began to clean up little spots overlooked by the group.  It was a good day for a change, he thought.  Surprisingly Lyseria and Liana had no ill words to say against one another, but he wasn't sure if that was due to them finally working out their differences, or that both of them were too distracted by sweets.  Luna said nothing the whole time, but whenever he would check to see how she was doing, she would smile in a lazy manner and say something cryptic.  He then remembered the silver chain he wore around his neck and reached up to feel it.  He had meant to give it back to her today, but perhaps it was just as well he didn't; no telling what Lyseria and Liana would make of it.

  Poor Neville, though, Joe thought.  The Gryffindor seemed even more frazzled than before, no doubt the pressure of end of term getting to him.  Last he had heard, Neville still was on the Gryffindor's black list for losing his list of passwords.  Still, by the end of the cooking lesson, Neville had calmed down a little and appeared to genuinely have fun for a change.  When everyone was leaving, Neville even stopped by to tell Joe that some of his assignments now made sense and that was worth all the time he had spent getting this group together.

  Giving the countertops one final wipe down, Joe looked over the kitchen and felt like something was still undone.  It took him a while to realize that had had been subconsciously waiting for Dumbledore to arrive.  They hadn't met since before the Hogsmeade and Joe was wondering how their next meeting would go.  For some reason, he felt the insides of his stomach plummet whenever he thought about what he would tell the headmaster about the current status of his bone wand.  He wasn't sure if the headmaster would approve, or take it away for safekeeping, and to tell the truth, Joe wasn't sure which he would prefer.  For now, he kept using the wand Dumbledore had loaned him, but every so often, his mind would wander back to the wooden case held deep inside his travelling bag.

  Easter holidays rolled around, and as he promised, Joe stayed at the castle to be with Lyseria.  Mum seemed a little diffident in her letter when he asked if he could stay, but Lyseria seemed like a whole new person, wanting to drag him around to various parts of the school grounds to show him things of noteworthy oddity.  For instance, the lake held a giant squid who liked to steal snacks from unwary students who were lounging too close to the lake's edge.  Lyseria found Joe's shock hilarious as a large tentacle silently reached out of the water and deftly snatched a tart right out of his hand.

  The rest of the vacation was spent either playing games or racing school broomsticks at the abandoned Quidditch pitch.  Joe would have loved to spend some of the time reading to keep up his schoolwork, but Lyseria would have nothing to do with it.  "This is a time for fun!" she exclaimed as she zoomed in front of him on an old broom.  No doubt, she found it fun only because this was the one thing she clearly was better doing than he was.  While she zipped around, occasionally diving through the goal hoops, Joe tried his best to stay calm as he slowly glided ten feet off the ground.

  "It's a shame that no one else is here!  We could maybe play a game.  Come on, Joe; come up here and defend the goals while I try to throw the Quaffle through.  I bet you'd make an excellent Keeper!" Lyseria called down to him.

  Grimly, Joe ascended to goal height and tried his best to block the oncoming Quaffle as Lyseria would rush in and throw it with surprising speed.  More times than not, she easily made a score while Joe desperately tried to stay on his broom. 

  "Come on!  You're not even trying!" Lyseria playfully squealed.

  "I'll have you know I am trying my best not to fall off!" he griped loudly, which only made her squeal even more loudly.

  "Hey!" someone called from below.  Both of them stopped what they were doing and looked down to see a handful of people standing near the stands.  Lyseria immediately bolted off towards them with Joe hesitantly flying in her wake. 

  "We saw you two flying and wondered if you'd like to have a game," explained Brion Wood. With him was a motley collection of first year students that Joe recognized from his cooking class.

  Lyseria jumped at the offer, "Yes!  I was just saying that we needed some players to have a game.  Who's gonna be captains?"

  "How about you and me?" the Hufflepuff said.  There was quick debate over how the two teams would be split; Brion wanting it to be boys versus girls to easily distinguish teams while Lyseria wanted random choice.  Joe quickly halted the argument by quietly pointing out to Brion that playing against an all girl team was a losing proposition in terms of impressing them and then showed everyone a quick charm that would change the color of their robes to white.

  "Great.  We'll look like a bunch of chess pieces flitting about," the Hufflepuff boy grumped.

  Joe was quickly picked by Lyseria.  "But I really would rather watch," he said, trying to beg off, but she wouldn't have it.  He protested that wouldn't make a good Keeper, but she merely assigned him to the roll of Beater instead.  "All you have to do is hang around and smack Bludgers at their Seeker and Chasers; even you can do that!"

  As Lyseria’s team changed their robes’ color to white, Joe quickly glanced over at the opposing team to see what they were up against.  Much to his disappointment, he saw Liana Stormcraft among them, discussing tactics with the rest.  Surprisingly, he noticed Tobias huddled next to her, staring intently at Wood as the smaller boy explained something to him in great detail.

  A couple of the Hufflepuff students carried out a large steamer trunk and started passing out Beater bats to Joe and the others.  “Don’t worry about it much,” one of them consoled him, “We’re using the training set our team uses for practice.  The Bludgers are fairly slow, so they won’t do much other than jostle you around a bit.  Plus the Snitch is a bit old, so it doesn’t fly too fast.”  Joe mentally sighed to himself as he practiced swinging the bat a few times.

  Moments later, everyone was off the ground and apparently trying their best not to run into other flyers, or at least that’s how it seemed to Joe.  He kept himself fairly close to the ground, only batting away the occasional Bludger if it came too close to him, but never really attempting to knock it into someone else.  A few times, Lyseria yelled something at him, but with all the other players flying around, he was too distracted to pay much attention to her.  He did notice that his team seemed to have scored a few goals, but he had no idea if the opposing team had done likewise.

  Twenty minutes into the game, someone called a time out, and all the white robed players descended over to one side.  Lyseria looked a little annoyed as she gathered everyone around her.  “Okay, we’re up by twenty, but we’ve got to do a better job at keeping them away from our goals.  Kelly, if you don’t have the Quaffle, stay close to Derek so that he can keep you shielded from the Bludgers.  Nigel, that Creevey bloke seems a little high strung so fly straight at him if he gives you anymore problems.  Joe, why didn’t you hit the Bludger at that Stormcraft girl when you had the chance?  I could have grabbed the Snitch if she hadn’t cut in front of me.”

  “Sorry,” was all he could manage.

  “Well, next time, don’t hesitate.  And get up higher!  You can’t do much down there.”

  Brion called an end of the timeout before he could say anything in response.  He did try to fly a little higher than he had before, but couldn’t bring himself to fly at the speeds these kids were easily doing.  One of the black-robed players whooshed passed him and yelled, “Slowpoke!” as she sped by.  By chance, a Bludger came pelting towards him and he instinctively smacked it towards the offending player, it barely missing her and instead brushing the tail end of her broom.  Although she screamed as she spun around, Joe thought it was more in excitement than terror.  At least he hoped so.  At any rate, it earned him a “good job” from Lyseria as she dove by him.

  Joe took a few seconds to look at all the players zipping around, trying to ascertain his next move.  As he started to fly after another Bludger, something heavy smacked him in the back, almost knocking him off his broom.  He frantically held on for dear life as he desperately tried to get closer to the ground before he slipped loose.

  “Time out!”  Someone yelled above him, as his feet gratefully touched the earth below.  Joe looked up to see Tobias glaring down at him as Wood came racing over to the two of them.  “Ingersoll, what’s your problem?”  Wood yelled.

  Tobias defiantly glared back, “He hit Ellen with a Bludger!”

  “Of course he hit Ellen with a Bludger; that’s his job as a Beater, ya big git!  That’s no excuse to run into him like that, especially when he didn’t even see you coming.”

  The girl in question flew over to the two, “I’m alright, Toby.  It’s no big deal.”

  Joe reluctantly pushed off the ground and joined him.  Wood looked concerned for a second before he asked, “You alright?”

  “Yeah, it’s no problem.  Is it, Tobias?” Joe said as he turned to look at the boy.  Tobias just glared at him, but said nothing.

  “Okay then.  I guess we’ll give Kelly a penalty shot for you, Joe, and start up again,” Wood responded and he and Ellen zoomed off.  The girl risked a glance back as they left.

  Joe turned once more to question Tobias. “Everything alright with you and me?”

  Tobias refused to look at him, but merely said, “Just stay away from York,” before he joined the rest of his team in an effort to block Kelly’s shot.

  Okay, mused Joe, it looks like I’m not the only one with girl problems.  For the rest of the game, he focused on hitting the Bludger towards Brion or the small chaser he thought might be Creevey.  Tobias seemed to have made it his job to shadow the Ellen girl in an effort to keep everything away from her.  Actually it worked rather well for Wood’s team since it seemed she was their lead scorer.

  In the end, Liana managed to grab the Snitch first, winning the game for Brion’s team.  Lyseria was a bit peeved in losing, but mollified herself by saying, “We would have won if I had my own broomstick.”  Joe wasn’t sure considering the way how Liana managed her own school broom, but refrained from saying anything.

  Whatever thrill he might have gotten from playing their friendly game of Quidditch was soon chilled after the watching the last official game of the year.  Gryffindor and Slytherin competed for the Quidditch Cup the following Saturday, and the sheer brutality shown by both sides turned him off the game forever.  In the end, Gryffindor won, but Joe really didn't care.  He wished the rest of the house felt the same way, but if anything, they were even more wrapped up in their loss than Joe would have ever imagined.  Worse still, the team captain spent the next few days blaming everyone he could for their defeat.  Draco hid away from the rest of the house as he took the brunt of Flint's accusations.

  Joe began to feel like some of the animosity directed towards the Potter boy was justified.  If you stood back and objectively judged the match, the real reason why Gryffindor won is because their Seeker had outspent the Slytherin Seeker, that was all.  Potter was a gifted flyer, there was no doubt about it, but so was Draco.  Potter's only edge was he had a broom that cost somewhere around ten times what Draco flew.  It was just another case of he who had the most money, won.  Joe was all too familiar with that way of life.  It was ironic though, he mused, because Draco seemed more of the type that relied more on how much he had rather than his own abilities.  In fact, the whole Slytherin house was pretty much based on that if he was being honest with himself.  So maybe Potter's victory was sort of a karmic justice for the whole house.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nineteen

The Bone Wand

  The remaining weeks seemed to fly by as the end of the school year drew to a close.  The weather began to warm up in earnest and while several of the first years spent most of their time outside enjoying the sunshine, Joe tried his best to focus on schoolwork.  He wasn't sure if he was just imagining things, but it seemed like his teachers had singled him out to do extra work.  Admittedly, he really needed the extra assignments if he ever wished to catch up to the third year students, but right now, it was starting to wear him down.

  He wasn't the only one at least.  Neville was an even more nervous wreck than normal, burying himself in essays and books in a corner of the library.  Once or twice, Joe made an attempt to talk to him, but the conversation was usually cut short as other students wearing either red or green would interrupt them.  Apparently the Gryffindor win was still a sore subject between the two houses.  After his third warning to stay away from those 'cheats,' (a laughable accusation if he ever heard one) Joe decided it was best to refrain from talking to the boy.

  The Granger girl seemed even more stressed out than before, almost to the point of a nervous breakdown.  Every time Joe went to the library to study, she could be found sequestered in her preferred corner, engrossed in her studies.  It looked as if she wasn't getting much sleep as well—her face was lined and ashen.  Her unusual habit of seeming to be at two places at once hadn't changed either.  On a few occasions, Joe spied her leaving from the girl's washroom on the third floor when he knew he had just seen her camped out in her corner of the library, buried underneath a mountain of books.  No doubt there was some sort of magic involved, but nothing he could find in a book.

  The one silver lining in all of this was the cooking lessons he had begun to teach on a weekly basis.  The club had finally settled into a group of about a dozen regularly attending members and it morphed into a study session as well.  While food was baking, the group would break out their books and help one another with their various classes.  As Brion Wood had once put it, "cooperate and graduate" was the unofficial club motto.  Better still, it was the one place where students from any house could come and be welcomed.  That, and the cozy warm kitchen setting made for a tranquil place during the last few weeks before final exams.

  Strangely enough, Dumbledore hadn't requested any more meetings with Joe.  Surely the headmaster would have wanted to know how things went during his Diagon Alley excursion, but he never received a summons.  Joe felt he should have been happy about that since it freed up more time for him to study, but he missed the weekly card games with the older man.  At any rate, it also meant he hadn't had to confess that he still carried the bone wand.

  Finals week came abruptly at the start of June.  Their first exam was History of Magic which was a relief for Joe.  Of all the subjects he had, this one was by far the worst.  It wasn't that Joe wasn't interested in the history of magic—far from it—it was just that Binns did a wonderful job of making the most fascinating stories dull and bland.  After an hour and a half of essays, the first years raced down the hallway for a brief respite before studying for their next test on Herbology.

  Quite to their surprise, this exam was conducted inside a brightly colored pavilion only recently erected next to one of the greenhouses.  Apparently in addition to a written exam held within the pavilion, there was to be a practical aspect to it as well which would require the students to identify various plants located within in the greenhouse.  Joe thought this would have been easy considering that the typical class required them to work in that very greenhouse, but much to everyone's annoyance, Professor Sprout had moved all of the potted plants around so that where the fanged tentacula had once been was now a row of spotted chintzpurfles.  Joe noticed that Icarus and Anatolio seemed to have some trouble with the arrangements, but for the most part, it seemed like everyone was satisfied with their run through the greenhouse.

  The next day was first year Potions, which Joe had expected to sit through.  Not so; for the practical, he was required to observe the students for misconduct and he was given a written exam that differed from the rest.  While the rest of the first year class fretted over the correct uses of mandrake, he was required to ascertain what had gone wrong with potions based on written descriptions and determine what needed to be done to correct the problem.  It was grueling, but he felt that he had given it his best.  What was more, after the exam more than a few students came by to personally thank him for his help.  Most notably, a particular Liana Stormcraft smiled warmly at him as she left, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the group of Slytherins he was walking with.

  Sadly, immediately afterwards, Joe had second year Potions which turned out to be even more severe than his first test.  He was glad didn't have to take the first year practical—after intense scrutiny he received during the second year practical, he was quite worn out.

  Joe managed to join the rest of his class for a quick lunch before they were once again hustled into a large classroom for Transfiguration.  For the exam, Professor McGonagall had them make knitting needles from celery stalks and change a small mouse into a water goblet.  Joe was seriously tempted to pull out his own wand for the exam, but forced himself to use the borrowed wand instead.  He managed to change both subjects somewhat into their end form, but he seriously doubted McGonagall would give him full marks.  He only hoped he did well enough on the written to overcome his botched attempts.

  Wednesday started with Charms with Professor Flitwick.  Here, his borrowed wand did a little better and with all of his additional studies with the teacher, Joe knew he aced the test.  Care of Magical Creatures was next, but it was a bit of a joke; all they had to do was take care of a flobberworm and at the end of the exam, Professor Hagrid absent-mindedly checked to see if all of them were still alive.

  "I've heard that the ministry has decreed that the hippogriff that attacked that Slytherin boy is to be killed today," one of the Hufflepuff boys mentioned to his friends.  "No wonder we had an easy test."

  "That's horrible!" a Ravenclaw girl exclaimed. "Maybe we should stay behind and make sure Hagrid's okay."

  Joe didn't hear the rest as he and his group of Slytherins walked on.  He wasn't sure the other groups wanted his friends around anyway; as they left, the other students silently stared at them but said nothing.

  "It's not like we're responsible for the beast's sentence," Adelie darkly muttered.

  "Yeah, but it's Draco's father who is out for blood.  Let's not antagonize them for no good reason," Icarus countered. It was odd that Icarus would say something so thoughtful, but Joe made no comment.

  The rest of the day the group studied either together or separately, and later that night, they had their Astronomy exam.  By the time everyone stumbled into the common room near midnight, Joe was so exhausted he fell into his bed without bothering to change out of his clothes, and immediately went to sleep.

  Thursday morning Joe woke up with a start and a nagging feeling he might have overslept.  He hastily changed into a cleaner set of robes and clambered upstairs to see if anyone was waiting.  Sure enough, the entire first year class sat waiting for him, a few were grumbling while most looked smugly at him as he climbed the last stairs.

  "Sorry; overslept," he apologized.  They all marched to the Great Hall for breakfast, most of them chatting about what their plans were once they finished their last exam.  Joe remained quiet the entire time; he was dreading this one particular exam more than any other.  Defense Against the Dark Arts.  He had heard from some of the older students that Professor Lupin had made a sort of an obstacle course for everyone to run through.  Joe knew that somewhere in that gauntlet would be a boggart, and he wasn't sure if he could face that.

  Sure enough, Lupin took them all outside to a place near the forest's edge and walked them through a taped off tracked which involved avoiding minor magical creatures or disarming small traps.  At the end stood a battered wardrobe that occasionally shuddered as people walked near it.  Most of the students made quick work of the practical exam with only a few problems.  Joe had managed to quickly run through the course with only having minor trouble with the hinky-punk, before he found himself staring at the wardrobe at the end.  No one except Professor Lupin was around.  Joe grimly stared at the wardrobe, borrowed wand in hand.

  "I fully believe you can do this, Joseph," Lupin quietly said.

  Joe thought for a few seconds, wondering if he could do what the professor expected of him.  In the end, he merely stuck his wand in his bag and told the professor, "I chose to not open the door."

  Lupin looked a little disappointed but only nodded in response.  Relieved, Joe went to sit with the rest of the students who had already completed the test.  Several of the students from the other houses were animatedly comparing their exams.

  "I had a little trouble with the grindylow, but the boggart at the end was really tough!"

  "I didn't have much trouble with the boggart.  It tried to turn into a vampire, but I made its teeth fall out and imagined a huge garlic monster trying to bite it.  The thing immediately ran back into the wardrobe before I could cast riddikulus."

  Joe quietly wandered off to one end of the group before anyone asked him what he did to the boggart.

  No sooner than he had found a quiet patch of ground to wait than Liana sat down next to him to talk.

  "That was a good ending to exams, wasn't it?" she began.

  "I guess so," he commented noncommittally.

  "Did you do well then?  I had a little trouble with hiccupping hex, but everything else was a breeze."

  "I got distracted by the hinky-punk for a bit, but realized what it was before I got pulled into the mud."

  "That's good to hear.  I mean, that the hinky-punk was your only trouble." she quickly added.  "I've been meaning to say thanks for all the help you've been to everyone.  I don't think Alyssa would have done as well as she has in potions if it weren't for you."

  Joe relaxed his guard a little. "I'm glad to be of help.  In all honesty, I like studying in a busy kitchen than alone in a library.  More comforting, if you ask me."

  Liana toyed with a blade of grass for a while before responding.  "Look.  I know I haven't been the nicest person to you, and I'm sorry about all of the stuff in the past."

  "It's alright—"

  "No, it isn't.  It was shallow on my part.  My dad tells me if you've done wrong to someone, you should own up to it and apologize for it."

  "Okay then.  Apology accepted."

  "Here," she said, digging in her bookbag, "I wanted to give you this for all your help."  She handed him a craved wooden box that opened up to reveal a small chess set complete with moving pieces.  "I asked around and found out that you don't have one yet, so I thought you might like one.  Do you know how to play?"

  Joe gently picked up a pawn and inspected the little man as he walked across his hand, the soldier eyeing him in distrust.  "Yes, but I've never had a magic set.  Had to keep expenses to a minimum, if you know what I mean."

  Liana eyed his worn out robes.  "I understand.  Daddy likes to say you should judge a person by his actions, not by his clothes."

  Joe turned to peer at her, "Sounds like a wise man."

  Liana beamed happily.  "I think he is!  He owns a potions-making store that supplies pharmacopias.  Maybe you could meet him some day."

  "I'd like that," he said, thinking that it wouldn't hurt to know someone like that.  If he decided to get into a career involving potions making, Liana's father might be able to open some doors.

  "So, what's your dad like?"

  Joe tried not to flinch at these words.  "I don't really know anymore.  I haven't seen him in about four years now," was all he'd say.

  Liana made a quiet, "Oh," and said nothing more.

  "It's nothing.  I just don't like talking about him is all."  He let the silence linger for a little while before he changed the subject.  "So, do you have any plans for the summer?"

  “Not really.  We might go to France for a summer vacation, but I’ll probably hang out around the house with mum.  You?”

  Joe shrugged his shoulders a little.  “Probably will work during the summer so I can come back here.  Maybe I could get a job in Diagon Alley or something; it’s near where I live.”

  “Maybe we could meet there sometime during the holidays.”

  “I’d like that,” he murmured.  She blushed a little, but smiled nonetheless.  They sat there in silence until Professor Lupin announced that everyone had completed the test and dismissed them all.  Once more, the Slytherin class made comments which he steadfastly ignored.  Let them talk if they wanted to; exams were finally over and they would soon all be going home.  Although he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, he dearly wanted to be home right now; it had been a long time since he had seen his mum and the sooner the better.

  Heartened by the prospect of returning home, he quickly made his way to his room and started sorting through his various things to pack.  He discovered several library books tucked under his bed and reluctantly made a trip all the way across the castle to return them.  On his way back, he was stopped by Icarus who wanted to introduce Joe to some friends.  He really didn’t feel like socializing with anyone at the moment, but thinking back to the conversation with Liana, realized that making introductions with the people that Icarus hung out with might prove beneficial in the future. 

  Before long, the group began to migrate to the Great Hall where dinner was being served, so Joe had to obligingly follow as well.  It was just as well; they had a few days before the train would take them back to King’s Cross, so he really should focus on being friendly at the end of term rather than hole up in his room by himself.  And dinner would be nice after all the hard work he had done during exams.

  Of course, dinner would have been a more pleasant experience had the girls not teased him about Liana.  While Violet bemoaned over why he had chosen a girl with little fashion sense, Adelie would pester him on whether the happy couple had picked a wedding date, or if the bridesmaid dresses would be blue or green.  Halfway through dessert, Lyseria—who had been quiet all evening—abruptly stood up and stormed out of the hall.

  Joe calmly stood up and looked meaningfully at the two girls—now silent—before he slowly went outside to find Lyseria.  She hadn’t gotten far, and when she heard his footsteps, she quickly changed the direction she was heading and darted out the main gate.

  “Lyseria, wait!” he blurted out, but she was already gone.  Sighing to himself, he picked up his own pace and followed her outside.  It was already dark outside, which meant they shouldn’t be out here, but at this point it would have been hard to argue that tiny detail with Lyseria.  He could barely see a dark figure fleeing towards the edge of the forest, and cursing at himself that she would have to go in that direction, hastily gave chase.

  “Lyseria, stop!  It’s too dangerous to go into the forest!” he yelled after her, but she refused to listen.  In the end, it really didn’t matter; she was a small girl of twelve whereas he had size and strength to overcome her lead.  He managed to grab her arm just as they entered the forest and let the mass of his body stop her from going any further.  She swung about with a wild punch that hit him squarely in the chest, but he barely felt it.

  “Let go of me and leave me alone!” she wailed, emphasizing every word.

  “I’ve already told you before, I’m not letting go of you,” he responded, hoping she’d remember that time they played snap.  “Lyseria, it’s too dangerous out here.  We need to go back inside the castle—“

  “No!  I’m sick and tired of Violet telling me I’m a fool, and listening to her and Adelie going on about you and—and that girl!”  Lyseria’s voice had a slight tremble as she said, ‘that girl’ and Joe figured she was probably crying as well.

  “Violet and Adelie are being silly little girls, trying to tease me about Liana; that’s all.  As for her, we’re just friends—that’s it.”

  “No it’s not!  You like her; not me,” she cried softly.

  Lyseria’s accusation hit him harder than her fist ever could.  “That’s not true.  I like you very much.”

  “Not the same way you like her.  I can tell.  Why can’t you have feelings for me like you do for her?” Lyseria’s voice was getting ragged the more she spoke, her tears falling freely down her face.

  Her raw emotional feelings rushed over him like a huge wave threatening to drown him with its sheer weight.  He couldn’t close his mind to it all, and in all honesty, he didn’t want to.  Instead, he clumsily got down on both of his knees so that they would be at the same height and pulled her into a tight embrace.  Lyseria tried to fight her way out of it at first, but in the end succumbed to it and began crying in earnest, her wracking sobs making her whole body shudder.  Joe found that he too was crying a little; he was never a boy to show this much open emotion to anyone, not even to his mother, but for once he let his guard down just for a minute, just so the two of them could share this intimate contact for a few moments.

  He began to stroke her hair as he whispered in her ear. “I don’t know why,” he barely heard the words fumbling in his mouth as he said them, “I don’t know what I see in her.  But I do know that you’ve been like the sister I’ve always wanted, and no matter what, I’m never going to let you go.  Never.”

  They stood like that for several more minutes, neither one of them saying a word.  It was only after Lyseria had calmed down enough to quiet her sniffling, that Joe finally loosened his grip on her.  She used part of her sleeve to wipe her face, hiding her eyes away from him, too embarrassed to face him.  Joe allowed her the time she needed to pull herself together before he stood up and gently took her hand in his.  “Come on.  We can find a quiet place inside the castle to talk all night if you want, but we really need to leave this place now.”

  No sooner had he said these words than a long baying sound echoed through the woods that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.  Joe was the first to recover, and he roughly pushed her along as he made a mad dash out of the forest.  Something was in there.  Something large and fast, that much he could see.  As they ran, Joe could hear sound of large padded feet galloping through the undergrowth, rapidly approaching.  Just as they cleared the forest’s edge, Joe saw something large and hairy bounding towards them on four gangly legs.  Before he could do anything, the creature barreled into the two of them like an avalanche of fur and knocked them to the ground.  Joe distantly heard Lyseria let out clipped yelp as the force of the blow knocked the wind out of her, but just he started to get to his feet, a strong hand latched onto his windpipe and lifted his massive frame up into the air.

  Joe got a clear look at his attacker in the light of the moon.  It was a hairy beast with a large snout filled with sharp teeth and shining eyes that glared at him with wild fury.  A low growl rattled out of its chest like a dog that was preparing to attack.  Long nails dug into the sides of his neck and Joe could smell an overpowering scent of earth and blood.  His brain shut down as he took all of this in, his normal calm, collected appearance shattered.  Never in his entire time at Hogwarts had he felt this terrified for his life. 

  Just as part of his mind told him that he was about to die, the creature let out a startled yelp and released him before it ran off into the dark forest.  Joe fell hard onto his knees and gasped for air; he smelled something like burnt hair, but for the life of him had no idea what it meant.

  “W-w-what was that?” Lyseria shrilly whispered to him.

  Instead of answering her, Joe staggered to his feet, grabbed her hand once more, and began running for the castle gate.  They had been lucky once; he wasn’t about to chance fate again by hanging around.  Even though his legs felt like lead and his heart felt like it was about to burst, Joe wouldn’t stop until they had made it to the safety of the castle.

  Fifty feet from the main gate, an icy cold began to seep through his limbs that made him slow down, and he began to feel a dread despair that made him want to curl up in a tight ball and die right there on the ground.  Behind him, he could hear someone let out a strangled mew of helplessness.  It was hopeless to even think of making it to the castle.

  No, said a small voice in the back of his mind.  This was something he had felt before.  Something he had overcome.  The voice became more insistent, more annoyed, as it were.  He was really getting sick and tired of this, it said to him, urging him to do something.  His left hand stirred on it own accord and drunkenly reached into the magical bag he had always carried with him.  No sooner had the hand found its way into the depths, a warm familiar item jumped into his awaiting grasp.  At once, the shock of feeling the comforting bone wand snapped his gibbering mind into focused thought:  there were dementors around, but he could fend them off.  He slowly pulled Lyseria close to him, hoping it would be enough to shield her when he whispered, “Evanesco dolor!”

  The cold numbing sensation was instantly replaced with heat of a furious wrath that seemed to pour out of his hands.  The calm mind was replaced with a heated anger that wanted to destroy whatever it was that dared defy him.  He would burn down the entire forest if that was what it took; no, the entire castle!

  No, said the small voice once more.  Something began to stem the uncontrolled fury that he felt, forging it into a defined source of power that could be channeled.  “I will not let this overwhelm me,” he heard his voice say in a cold, dispassionate manner.  He looked up to see dozens of black figures floating overhead, all seeming to be headed in one particular direction.  Several of them had turned to approach him as he huddled on the ground.  To these, he pointed his wand and said in a ringing voice, “You will leave us alone.”  The dementors in question halted their progress towards him, and once more began to follow the mass migration of the rest.

   Joe watched them for a few seconds to be sure that they would indeed be left alone before he slowly stood up, pulled Lyseria up with him.  She was clinging onto him in undisguised terror.  Not wanting to put away his wand just yet, Joe hefted her up with his right arm and calmly made for the castle’s entrance.  Only when he was inside did he dare to shift his wand to his bag so that he could carry her in both hands.  He made a direct line to the infirmary ward, not pausing to answer any questions from the few people he met along the way.

  The next several minutes were lost in a fugue.  He vaguely remembered telling Madam Pomfrey that they had encountered some dementors, but the rest was lost to him.  At one point, several others entered the infirmary as well, but he paid them no mind.  All of his attention was focused on the small limp form of Lyseria lying on a bed.

  “Come on now, come with me,” Pomfrey said with a gentle tone.  Joe didn’t want to leave, but she was firm with him as she led him off to the nurse’s station.  “I want to look at those scratches around your neck.”  He sat quietly on the examination bench as she began to dab the wounds with something that stung, but he never flinched.  “This wasn’t done by a dementor; that I know.  Do you know what it was?”

  He slowly shook his head before quietly answering, “It was big and hairy. Like a giant dog with hands.”  The healer’s hand twitched with his remark, but she said nothing.  “Is Lyseria going to be okay?”

  “I think it was just a shock of being in the presence of so many dementors.  She should be right as rain by tomorrow morning.  There.  I don’t think these will get infected, but I want to see you tomorrow morning to be sure,”  She stole a glance at the door as several voices could be heard from the other side.  “Normally, I’d insist you stay here for the night, but I think it’s going to get rather busy in the next few minutes.  You seem in good health considering; I want you to eat this block of chocolate and head straight for you bed.”

  “Yes ma’am.”  He took the offered chocolate and quietly exited the infirmary; outside, Professor Snape was talking to a neatly dressed man.  Snape gave him a quick glance but said nothing to Joe as he walked by. 

  Joe had made it down one hallway before he ran into another person:  this time it was the headmaster.  He looked a little deep in thought and might have paid no attention to him had Joe not stopped to let him walk by.

  “Joseph!  What are you doing here?”

  Seeing no way to avoid telling the man the truth, Joe gave him a quick answer.  “Lyseria and I were outside tonight.  We were attacked by a large, dog-like creature.  I don’t know what drove it off, but afterwards, we ran into a flight of dementors.  Sir, I—I used the bone wand.”

  Dumbledore looked a little shocked and frightened by his words.  “Did the creature wound either of you?”

  “I don’t think so.  It picked me up with one hand, but quickly dropped me.  Madam Pomfrey cleaned the scratches with something and let me go.”

  Dumbledore quickly reached out one of his hands to lift Joe’s chin up so that he could clearly see Joe’s neck.  Letting out a long sigh of relief, the headmaster turned his stare to Joe’s eyes.  “Mr. Black, if I didn’t have other pressing matters, we would be having a very long and pointed discussion in my office.  As it is, I want you to go directly to your room and stay there until I summon you.  Do not stray off to anywhere else, no matter what you might hear along the way.  Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir.  Sorry sir.”  Dumbledore strode off to the infirmary without another word, leaving Joe to ponder just what the headmaster would do to him.  With a heavy heart, Joe did exactly what he was told and marched straight to the Slytherin common room.  There, he heard many students talking animatedly with each other.

  “Joe!  Joe, did you hear?  They caught Black!”  Nicholas eagerly told him as he started to make his way to his bedroom.

  “What?”

  “That’s what I’ve heard!  Seems Professor Snape caught him in the Shrieking Shack!  Can you believe it?”  A lot of students seemed eager to discuss this bit of gossip in great detail, but Joe was too tired to care at the moment. 

  “That’s great.  If you don’t mind, I’m wiped.  I’m going to bed,” he said to the excited boy, waving him off.

  “Joe, where’s Lyseria?”  Violet appeared before him, a mask of concern marring her face.

  Joe sighed before answering.  “She’s in the infirmary.  Look, we’ve had a bit of an ordeal, so if you don’t mind, I’d like some sleep.  She’s fine, I’m fine.  I’ll tell you all about it in the morning, okay?”  Before she could respond, he quickly jogged down the stairs to his room.

*       *       *

  “Young master, are you awake?”

  Despite being very tired, Joe’s eyes immediately opened and he groped about to find his wand in the darkness.  With a quiet snap, the room’s lights turned on, making him blink a little before he could focus on the small form beside his bed.

  “Yes, Nobby.  What can I do for you?”

  “Headmaster bids me to bring you to him.  He apologizes for the late hour, but said it was urgent.”

  “Very well.  Tell him I’ll be there as soon as I can.”  He began to pull his shoes on when the small elf grabbed his hand.

  “Beggin’ your pardon, young sir, but the headmaster said I was to bring you immediately.”  Before he could ask what that meant, Joe felt an intense pressure squeezing his entire body, but before he could complain, it was gone and he found himself standing inside Dumbledore’s office.  There, he found himself in front of both the headmaster and Professor Snape.  Both looked a little tired and worn, but Snape exuded a palpable fury that was mingled with…concern?

  Before he could say anything, Professor Snape sternly told him to sit down on a chaise lounger and forced him to lean back so that he could look at the scratches on Joe’s neck.  “I should have been told about this immediately,” Snape quietly said, trying hard to keep his anger out of his voice.

  “And I would have, however you were in no mood to discuss such matters.  I did examine him in Madam Pomfrey’s infirmary and felt that he was in no danger, so I sent him to bed,” Dumbledore responded.

  “I see no sign of infection.  Still, it would be prudent for me to treat this nonetheless.”  Snape rummaged through a small carrying case and removed a bottle of dark liquid.  “This will sting.”  Joe lay still as Snape applied the foul smelling liquid to the scratches.  True to his word, the potion burned his skin, but Joe barely flinched.  In fact, the worst was old memories dredged up by pain caused by the potion.  At that, Joe did jerk a little, but quickly forced that image into the back of his mind.

  “Would you like Fawkes to assist, Severus?”  The phoenix woke at the mention of his name and flew to perch on Dumbledore’s shoulder.

  “I think not, headmaster.  While the phoenix tears would indeed heal Mr. Black’s minor wounds, I do not think it would help with the possible infection.”

  There was that word again; infection.  All the time that he had lay in his bed, Joe went over the events that happened in the forest.  Bits of information had percolated through his mind, seemingly at random, and none of it made sense to him.  Until now.

  “It was a werewolf, wasn’t it?” he quietly asked.  “Professor Lupin turned into a werewolf tonight and attacked us.”

  For several seconds, neither teacher said a word.  The headmaster was the first to break the silence with his own question; “Why would you think that, Joseph?”

  Joe sat up a little on the lounger.  “Professor Lupin has been frequently ill the entire term.  I’m not one hundred percent sure of all the times he was sick, but I know a few of them occurred during the nights of a full moon.  Professor Snape assigned us a rather unusual essay to complete which regarded the recognition of werewolves in human form; Professor Lupin exhibits a few of them.  The creature that attacked us was humanoid in shape, but had a dog-like head, or rather I should say, a wolf-like head.  Finally, the only reason why it dropped me was because something burned its hand.”  With this statement, Joe reached up to his neck and pulled out the tarnished silver necklace that Luna had given him weeks ago.  “It was burned by this silver chain.”

  Dumbledore had the decency to at least look away when Joe stared at him, looking for answers.  Snape on the other hand seemed even more furious than before.  He shot up from his kneeling position next to Joe and addressed the headmaster.

  “As I have stated all year, to let that man serve as a teacher at this school would be disaster!” Snape’s voice was still the whispery tone he used in class, but to Joe, it rang out loud as thunder.  “I tell you that I saw him with Sirius tonight, and now there is this!”

  “We have already discussed events leading to the capture of Sirius Black, and I sincerely doubt nothing more can be gained by going over them again.  As for Joseph’s encounter with Professor Lupin last night, it is regrettable, but fortunately nothing permanent has come of the matter.  Had Joseph and Miss Edwards been inside like they should have been—“

  “Do not lay blame on my students!”

  “I wasn’t about to, Severus; I was merely pointing out the reason why we’ve asked Mr. Black to come to my office at such a late hour.”  Dumbledore turned his gaze to Joe.

  Seeing this as an invitation to speak, Joe quickly sorted through the night’s events before he started.  “We were dining in the Great Hall.  Some of the Slytherin students were making some….comments in jest towards me, but since I knew they were only playing, I paid them no mind.  Lyseria, on the other hand, took them as a personal assault and left in distress.  I got up to follow her, to smooth things over, but when she saw me following her, she ran outside.  Had I left her alone, she probably would have gone back to her room instead.”  He paused before finishing his summary, “I accept full responsibility for everything, sir.”

  Dumbledore steepled his fingers together as Joe finished his explanation. “Well, Severus, there doesn’t appear to be an intentional attempt to break the rules; I see no reason to impose a penalty.  I will, however, have a word with Mr. Filch about properly locking the doors at night.”

  Snape coldly responded, “And there’s to be no punishment for the attack against one of my students?”

  “As I said before, while regrettable, Remus was not in his normal state of mind.  He has been very careful to take the wolfsbane potion all school year—“

  “And the one time he forgets, he manages to get loose and—“

  “And we find ourselves talking in circles, Severus.  Yes, I do understand the severity of the situation, and yes, I do understand your concern for the safety of your students.  Rather than argue about this all night, I suggest you get a good night’s sleep; I have a feeling the matter will resolve itself in the morning.”

  Snape wanted to say more, but knew when he was being dismissed.  He curtly nodded to the headmaster, and stomped outside with barely a glance at Joe.  Joe himself wanted to leave as well, but felt that the headmaster was not done with him.  That was fine with him; it might have been the lack of sleep that was driving him, but Joe was starting to get annoyed with the headmaster and wanted to share a few words as well.

  “I’m sorry for the danger I put you in tonight, Joe,” the headmaster said before he could say anything.  “You should blame me for everything that transpired tonight, not yourself.  I met Professor Lupin when he was about ten years old, and parents pleaded with me to let him attend school.  He was already a werewolf at that age, you see; bitten at a very young age.  He’s a good man.  No doubt when he learns of tonight’s events, he will resign his position here.”

  “Why did you let him become a teacher in the first place?”  Joe tried to keep all emotion out of his voice when he asked this, but a steely edge creeped in towards the end.

  “He’s had a hard time finding long term employment.  As you can imagine, most wizards are reluctant to hire a known werewolf.  I thought with Professor Snape’s assistance, he could work here with the knowledge that we could keep his condition under control.”

  “You mean there’s no cure?”

  “No.  At best, we can make sure he keeps his mental facilities when he transforms.  He’s still a werewolf in form, but with his wits about him, he can simply stay in his rooms until the full moon wanes.  However, tonight he forgot to take his potion, and well, you saw what the results are if that happens.”

  Joe sat quiet, thinking about what the headmaster had told him.  Finally, he asked, “What are the chances I’ll….become…”

  “Both Professor Snape and I believe that will not happen.  Lycanthropy is typically spread through saliva, so since Professor Lupin did not bite you, it is highly unlikely that you have been infected.  However as a precaution, I will have someone check on you next month.”  Dumbledore slowly stood up and replaced the phoenix back on its perch.  “I seem to recall you said something about using the bone wand.  I was of the impression it had gone back to Mr. Ollivander’s.”

  It was Joe’s turn to look away in embarrassment.  “I tried to return it, but he was not in his shop.  In any event, I think it may be a little too late to exchange it; the change that we talked about appears to be complete.”

  “I see,” the headmaster responded as he stroked the bird’s neck, “Go on.”

  “After the werewolf’s—Professor Lupin’s encounter, I grabbed Lyseria’s hand and made a mad dash for the castle.  Before we could get there, we ran into large group of dementors.  They seemed to be heading for the lake I think.  At any rate, several of them broke off from the group and surrounded us.  Before I knew it, I had reached into my bag and pulled out my wand and used evanesco dolor.”

  Dumbledore said nothing as he sat down behind his desk.  Joe had expected him to demand the wand back for safekeeping or in the very least, a stern lecture, but the headmaster just sat there quietly for several minutes, never once looking at him.

  “Sir?” Joe hesitantly said in a small voice.  “I think I would like to keep the bone wand.”

  “What has changed your mind?” Dumbledore asked, still not looking at him.

  Joe searched to find the words, but everything he could think of to say always returned to something he did not wish to speak.  He pulled over a chair and sat down across from the headmaster, screwing up his courage.  After taking several deep breaths, he heard his shaky voice begin to speak.  “Wh-when I was little, my dad lost his job and couldn’t find any work.  It made him very angry and he—he would…. He would take it out on me and my mum.  If I was too loud, or didn’t put away my toys, he’d burn my arm with a cigarette.  Any little thing.  Mum got the worst of it, I think, though she’d probably say I did.”  He stopped to wipe his eyes, and took a few more deep breaths before he went on.

  “At any rate, when you started telling me about this wand, I was afraid I’d turn out to be just like him, and that scared me.  That I’d get mad and hurt someone without thinking.  Only tonight, when I used the wand, I felt all that anger build up, but somehow I kept it under control and used it to keep us safe.  I—I want to give it a go, sir.  I think I can handle it.”

  Dumbledore sat still for a few moments before answering him.  “Yes.  I think you would.  I think it best if we call it a night then; you’re about to fall over even as we speak.”

  Nobby magically appeared beside Joe’s chair and took his hand as he stood up.

  “And Joseph, I think we can end our evening card games.  However, if there is ever a time you wish to speak with me in the future, my door is always open.”

  With a rush of darkness and pressure squeezing him all over, Joe found himself back inside his room.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty

Going Home

  The next morning was dreadful.  What with Dumbledore’s late night visit, Joe reckoned he only got about four hours sleep.  Then there was the constant interrogation he faced as he tried to eat breakfast.  Joe tried to keep the night’s events pared down to minimal words, but after hearing several outlandish stories spreading about the house tables, he found himself repeating his tale several times in an attempt to keep it truthful.

  Perhaps ‘truthful’ was a bit misleading as well.  Whenever he described his encounter with Professor Lupin, he pointedly left out words such as ‘attack,’ or ‘scratched,’ or even ‘grabbed.’  It was the least he could do for the poor man.  Nevertheless, before breakfast was over, the entire school knew Professor Lupin was indeed a werewolf.  Joe felt a little guilty with revealing that bit of information, but it was deceitful for both Lupin and the headmaster to not tell the students in the first place.  Now that the secret was out, they would have to deal with the consequences.

  As Dumbledore had expected, word of Professor Lupin’s resignation spread throughout the castle by lunch.  Joe once more felt a little guilty and spent the rest of the day avoiding people.  It was rather easy to do as most of the students who could were spending their last day of freedom in Hogsmeade.  In his quiet stroll throughout the hallways, he bumped into Luna who was concentrating on a pair of trainers stuck inside a stone gargoyle’s mouth.

  “Oh, hello, Joe.  I’ve been trying to use accio to get my shoes down, but so far, I haven’t had much luck.”

  Joe calmly reached into his bag and pulled out his bone wand.  With a small flicking motion, he whispered ‘wingardium leviosa’ and managed to free the trainers before his charm gave out, promptly dropping them on the floor in front of them.

  “But where’s the fun in that?” Luna mused as she stooped to pick them up.

  “Searching for your missing possessions?” Joe said pointedly.

  “Why yes.  You offered to help earlier in the year, didn’t you?”  She handed him a list of items written in blue ink.  “I was going to post these around school to see if anyone had seen them, but we could make it into a scavenger hunt, couldn’t we?”

  “Well, I know one thing I can give you,” he said as he reached up to undo the silver necklace.  “Didn’t help much with—what did you call them, cupid chiggers?—but it did keep me safe and sound last night.  Thanks.”  Joe gently placed the necklace in her open hand.

  “Well, you have been sleeping with your pajamas turned inside out, haven’t you?  That should help somewhat,” she said as she nodded knowingly.

  Joe answered with a slight smile.  “I think I have an idea where to find some of these things.  Meet you in the main hall in an hour?”  With that, they departed and Joe quickly made his way to the Slytherin common room.  There, he found several second year students lounging about, playing cards.

  “Excuse me for a second,” he said without preamble.  “I have a friend who is missing some items.  If you know of their whereabouts, I would appreciate it if they were to show up on this table in the next fifteen minutes.”  He made a show of placing the list on the table, but no one made any attempt at looking at the list.

  “Perhaps I should make myself more plain.  Next year, it is very likely I will be attending classes with you.  If you expect me to help you at all with your studies, I would like you to help me locate Luna’s missing possessions.”  The group of second years glanced around to one another.  They had heard of his study sessions from the first years and seemed unwilling to pass up on his help.  A few of them got up and returned with various books and scarves and other items.  Some of the others mentioned places throughout the school where other things could be found, the speaker steadfastly refusing to meet his stern gaze.  With a quiet ‘thanks,’ he left to find the other items hidden around the various classrooms.  By the time he was done, it was past his hour to meet with Luna.  Fortunately he found her waiting and handed over his collection.

  “I believe you won this round!” she said as she tried to put everything inside her pack.  “Let’s see, what would make a good prize…”

  “Luna, I’m not expecting anything in return.  I just—“

  “Here we go,” she said and pulled out a pair of the oddest pair of glasses Joe had ever seen.  She placed them on his face and said, “They help you find invisible creatures.”

  “Um…okay,” was all he could think to say.

  “I’ll have to go back to my room to drop all of this off.  Perhaps we’ll see each other later then.”

  Before Joe could say anything in response, she headed up the stairs.

  Lyseria was allowed to leave the infirmary some time before dinner.  She spoke little to anyone and seemed hesitant to be around Joe, but he sat right next to her during the meal and kept her in the conversations that others began.  At one point, Adelie made to say something about this new development, but quickly stopped mid sentence when Joe looked at her.  He concluded the night’s dinner by suggesting the entire group meet during the summer if it were possible.  A few of them nodded in agreement.

  The next day, exam results were posted; Joe was pleased to note that he had scored very high in all of his classes.  Almost all of them had done well.  Icarus started to boast how well he had done until he saw Joe’s results.  Instead of saying anything, he merely stared at Joe as if he was seeing him in a new light, and left without another word. 

  That night, the house cup was awarded to Gryffindor; it was a bit of a letdown for everyone in Slytherin, but at least this wasn’t an unexpected surprise.  Joe realized he had not looked at his own personal point tally in some time.  The more he thought about it, the more he realized he no longer cared about his personal score.  All it seemed to do is make people annoyed with him or jealous.  If I ever have the chance to do something, he thought, I’m going to get rid of that system.

  The next day, everyone boarded the train back to London.  Through the bedlam of students saying goodbye to one another, Joe managed to find a compartment to himself.  It wasn’t long though that he was joined by Lyseria and surprisingly, Violet and Adelie.  They chatted casually with one another while the train pulled out of the station.  After twenty minutes, Violet and Adelie left to join up with some other friends, but promised to be back later.

  “Do you mind that I’m here?” Lyseria asked him after a while.

  Joe looked away from the window where he was watching the scenery pass by.  “No, not in the slightest.”

  More silence passed before she resumed.  “I’m sorry that I messed up.  That I got us in trouble by running out like that.”

  “It’s over now, so don’t worry about it.  Think of it as an adventure you can tell your friends next year.”

  “You know how you said we’d have a long talk later?”  Joe nodded.  “Would you mind if we didn’t?  Not now at least.  I just….”  Joe waited for her to finish, but she seemed at a loss for words.

  “You just…what?  You’re not going to leave it hanging there, are you?”

  Lyseria played with her fingers for a while before answering.  “I’m tired is all.  I just wanted to know if it was alright if I napped here next to you.”

  “Okay if I read a book then?”

  “Sure.  Go right ahead.”  As he rummaged through his bag for something to read, Lyseria curled herself up in her seat and leaned against him.  Joe wasn’t exactly sure what he should do and sat there frozen for a few seconds.  Lyseria seemed not to notice as she stared out the window.  Eventually, he slowly reached inside his bag once more and pulled out his travelling cloak and draped it across her body.  As he did so, she curled up even tighter against him and closed her eyes.

  No doubt this would be a further complication in the Lyseria/Liana problem, but right now, Joe was content to just sit there, reading his book, while feeling a warm body comfortably snuggled close beside him.  It had been a very trying year for him, and no doubt only more of the same was in store for the next five or six years, but right now, Joe didn't care.  Somehow, with the feeling of the light pressure on his right side and the gentle rocking of the train as he sped by the countryside, he knew everything was going to be just fine.