Harry kept sneaking glances at the precious notebook all morning. But—damn it!—the professors had only agreed to meet. Nothing else. The morning update from Dudley cheered him up though. Clearly worried about the dog too.
Parents are fine. Aunt hasn't yelled. Dog's good, taking meds. Aunt's obsessed with him, even heard it over the phone. I need more medicine in two weeks. Aunt wants us for holidays. Your professor too. I need something from him. Fer-something. I couldn't catch it. For the dog. Dying to introduce them.
Snape? With a dog?
He can brew her something. Remember what happens when Aunt WANTS something.
Right, got it. I'll tell the professor Aunt's faith in his talents is unshakable. Harry grinned, imagining Dudley cackling. Gotta run. Talk tonight?
Yeah. Ten. Later.
***
At breakfast Harry caught himself wanting something strange—Monday! So convenient. Sneeze in a Potions cauldron. Endure a couple minutes ear-polishing—boom, detention secured. Sneeze in someone else's cauldron? Two or three detentions are easy. Though he still had over two weeks of them. Shame only serious offenders worked weekends. Harry didn't qualify yet. He had to fix that. But how exactly do you provoke Snape into assigning Sunday punishment? Step on his robes?
Hermione saved the day surprisingly—called him right after breakfast to a Charms elective she'd attended since the year started.
Of course, Flitwick's student. How does she manage everything? Harry thought, immediately on guard. The last thing he needed was Weasley tagging along as usual. But Ron, not always wisely following Professor Babbling's advice, hadn't brought chess pieces this morning. So he proved completely indifferent to new knowledge this time.
Harry made a mental note—to remind his mate about the knight. Or just slip it in his pocket. Amazing watching him become a completely reasonable normal guy... Surprising and pleasant.
Alas, Weasley became equally unpleasant without his pieces. Now that Harry and Hermione could compare both versions, they saw his completely idiotic reactions—weird gluttony, total unwillingness to learn, baseless attacks on Slytherin and Slytherins.
Who needs this? Why turn Weasley into an idiot? The thought gave them no peace. And Harry's worry inevitably infected his teachers. So he wasn't even surprised at arriving at the "elective"—not only Hermione and Professor Flitwick waited but Professor Snape too. A smile escaped Harry automatically. Snape just nodded, frowning worriedly.
"Well then, shall we discuss recent news?" Professor Flitwick rubbed his palms together. "I assume you all have questions. Who's first?"
"How do you always manage being in the right place at the right time?" Snape beat everyone unexpectedly.
"I've been working on that ability for half a century," Flitwick smiled. "You of all people know that, colleague!"
Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, calculating the professor's age. Then bombarded their teachers with questions.
Turns out Madam Sprout should've chaperoned students to Hogsmeade this weekend. But for some reason McGonagall switched with her. Flitwick, who'd promised to back up his old friend from dementors, volunteered to help Minerva too. Especially since he'd never known her changing her schedule without good reason.
McGonagall felt no better about dementors than Madam Sprout—didn't refuse the help. She'd suggested stopping at Rosmerta's herself. Supposedly spotted her seventh-years there.
Picture formed—the conversation really was staged. Flitwick supposed Weasley and Granger would report its contents to Harry either way.
Here Harry showed everyone the map and explained about the twins. So the list of directors and participants expanded. Snape sighed, then listed those he definitely knew as "the headmaster's people."
"So that's it. All the Weasleys..."
Harry felt sad. He'd liked the Burrow before—its kind noise, chaotic running around, such warm homey atmosphere. Now memories surfaced of various oddities and absurdities. Actually, remembering how Mr. Weasley interacted with Muggles—Malfoy behaved more decently. Just ignored them. But this one acted like a child at a zoo for the first time, honestly.
The more Harry remembered Arthur Weasley, the stranger he seemed. Percy, Ron and the twins and even Ginny compared to him were actually nothing. Sure, they all had their quirks. But not like Dad's...
"If a mage is a blood traitor, does his head go bad too?" He couldn't resist asking.
Both professors laughed heartily.
"I think it's connected anyway," Snape stopped laughing first. "To do something that would betray your own kind—definitely can't be friends with your head. And then... quite possibly everything gets worse."
"Oh." Hermione's lips froze in a neat circle, eyes looking somewhere distant. She had things to remember and think about too.
"Still, it's unfair!" Harry ruffled his fringe. "What about the children? They weren't even born when their elders screwed up. And... you don't happen to know what happened with the Weasleys?"
Snape shrugged. The half-goblin answered:
"Gossip went that both Molly's brothers died in a duel because of her."
"Wait, Filius, wasn't Arthur the one with the problem?"
"He inherited it from ancestors. Then his wife—well, fiancée then—added more. By the way, Arthur courted Molly Prewett precisely because Prewett daughters always bore many children easily. Healthy children. You've heard a curse can be lifted by a seventh son?"
"But they have Ginny as seventh," Hermione couldn't help it. "Oh, so nothing will work? Shame..."
"Maybe yes, maybe no." Flitwick sounded thoughtful.
"How?.. One child could've died at birth?" Hermione guessed. "Does that count too?"
"More likely miscarriage—nobody heard about Molly being pregnant more than seven times. Though... Did anyone count specifically? Truth known only to them. And even that's not certain..."
"Judging by how they treat Ron, he's no seventh..."
"On the contrary—the harder conditions from childhood, the greater probability the child grows strong."
"So they gave me to the Dursleys... for that?!" An unkind thought struck Harry. "How strong I am—just no saving!" Acidly.
"Children! What are we even talking about?" Flitwick came to his senses.
Snape immediately stared at him, finally surfacing from his thoughts.
"About important things we all need understanding," Harry said calmly.
"Oh, Merlin..." Filius threw up his hands.
"Oh, Potter..." Snape hissed.
"Seems you're in very good company, Harry." Hermione giggled.
Snape's expression when she managed wisecracking became indescribable and... she terribly liked it. Especially since another quite clever question had matured.
"What do you think—does Headmaster Dumbledore work for the Minister or vice versa? If the Minister, is this personal initiative or official Ministry position?"
"Actually, the answer to your clever question changes absolutely nothing, Miss Granger."
"Ah..."
Black eyebrows rose slightly. Hermione understood—he was right. They couldn't oppose either one. So what difference who controlled whom? Just stay away.
"Well yes." She sighed disappointedly.
What a clever child! Snape marveled, easily reading her surface thoughts. Worth rejoicing for Harry—having such a friend costs dearly.
"Can't understand one thing—what could the headmaster possibly need from me?" Harry couldn't even get indignant anymore. "He's Supreme Mugwump, a powerful mage. And who am I? What kind of f... ahem-ahem... sorry, just makes me mad! Dark Lord Defeater? What are these children's tales anyway?"
"First, Harry, you're not alone. Nobody can understand the Headmaster's ideas. Not even the entire Wizengamot and Ministry."
"And he uses that beautifully, must say."
"And the whole of magical Britain believes that tale strangely enough. Because—Prophecy. I told you."
"But what could a one-year-old do to an adult mage? Did that occur to nobody? Are they all... bonkers?" Hermione flared. "And anyway, nothing remained of Riddle. Meaning he died, right? Prophecy fulfilled. What else?"
"The Headmaster thinks he'll return."
"What's that got to do with me? Or will this Voldem... Riddle be reborn who knows how many times if 'neither can live peacefully'? If I agree to stress out an hour every morning, will that work? But nothing about 'dying peacefully' was there. So maybe... wait..."
Harry blinked, dazed. What if he and Voldemort were connected so they could neither live simultaneously nor... die—also?
Snape caught his confused look. Paled. Then stubbornly pressed his lips together and smiled. Crookedly, forcedly. But Harry felt it—he UNDERSTOOD. They'd figure it out. They'd manage. In the end, couldn't be otherwise.
But main thing—here it was, the second layer... Not for nothing sometimes all sorts of crap appeared to him. Dreamed, rather. And it wasn't crap at all. And generally, shouldn't be lazy—write that down too. He imagined Snape in Trelawney's shawl and bracelets, interpreting his dreams... Pff! Life became more fun.
"This mood I like much better," the potioneer noted. "But your assumption—quite the opposite."
"What are you talking about?" Granger jumped in her chair, understanding nothing.
"Hermione, think we should get ready." Flitwick distracted the girl, nodding toward the door leading to his workroom adjoining the classroom. "Our elective finishes there."
"You're still using the Time-Turner, Filius? But that thing..." Snape was indignant.
"It's simply a perfect alibi," the half-goblin interrupted. "And you... use it... I assume Miss Granger won't mind?"
Hermione nodded desperately. She'd shared the Time-Turner and everything connected with it almost immediately with the Teacher. He'd simply taken the dangerous artifact from her. Now they sometimes use it together. Like now. And studied it.
"Can I watch?"
"Only if you behave like you're not here."
The sight proved interesting. Hermione and her teacher stood near the door. It swung open. In came... completely real Hermione and Flitwick. They looked at themselves. Then their figures seemed rippling, blurred. And now in Ravenclaw dean's office—simply Hermione Granger and simply Filius Flitwick.
"Cool!" Harry adjusted his glasses. "How's it feeling?"
He wanted to try that too.
"I came across that meeting yourself is strictly forbidden," Snape chuckled. "Amusing."
Hermione started speaking but the Charms professor beat her.
"You saw yourselves. The whole point is knowing exactly where you'll meet during return. And returning to a place where nobody will see your double's disappearance."
Harry already quizzed his friend about sensations...
"Can't wait being a test subject, Harry?"
"Yeah." He smiled. "Interesting though."
"You feel nothing, I'm telling you. Just weird seeing yourself from outside. But you look in mirrors sometimes, yeah?"
"Shouldn't fool with this artifact—too frequent use provokes mental disorders. Especially if your brain received lots of information during that time. But if needed, you can always count on us."
"How often have you used it, if not secret?"
"On myself—second time." Hermione smiled. "First was purely research. Just an hour. And I finished one Charms assignment."
"Send memories of how it looked from outside," Flitwick requested.
Harry started pulling silvery thread from his temple into a vial Snape immediately provided.
"Who do you... test it on?" Severus understood perfectly that if such an extraordinary artifact got to his teacher, he'd research it every available way.
"On kitty." Hermione lowered her eyes. "He himself..."
"On Crookshanks?" Harry clarified.
She nodded.
"Then I think I have a plan about the rat! At least how to take it. Otherwise when I think... life gets uncomfortable somehow. Well, in our room, you understand?"
"Oh... right. Though many times I've seen Ron's rat, I can't imagine it could be an animagus. Rat's a rat."
"If the rat's caught by your cat, he definitely won't squash it?"
"He's very smart. If you ask him, won't squash. But can wound of course."
"Pettigrew most likely will transform if attacked. To a human he can't do anything."
"What if taking the cat when we go eat... Weasley sometimes brings his rat along. Barely broke him of planting that filth on the table."
"Shouldn't have broken him. It would be simpler now."
"Yeah, new dish on Gryffindor table. Inviting the entire Auror office..."
"Yes, would turn out gloriously."
"So I'll just drag Crookshanks around until we figure out luring out Ron's rat."
"What do rats love most?"
"Maybe dragging him under invisibility? Otherwise Ron will completely lock up the rat. He got into that it's magical—well, by age, remember? That's me, idiot, guilty."
"Won't work. Crooks is heavy. They'll notice. Then explaining yourself to death."
"Say you're testing your Charms project!"
"Ah... Can I, Professor?"
Flitwick considered, then nodded.
***
Ron Weasley carefully stroked the chess knight with his finger—a piece he now practically never removed from his pocket. Felt himself slowly going mad. He remembered... yeah he remembered everything. How he'd acted. What he'd felt. Now it seemed like some other person. Not him.
Wanted banging his head on the wall. Actually sometimes when the past self became completely unbearable. Nowhere to go. Couldn't tell anyone either.
Harry? He seemed to have enough problems. Why else would he spend half an hour in the bathroom every evening? He and the guys already got used to running to neighbors.
Plus the curtains around his bed—they stand like a wall. Should ask him to teach that maybe.
Ron sighed. Generally amazing why Harry still talks to him normally. Not to mention Hermione. After all the blizzards he'd been spouting these two years. How patient they are... Or maybe he just really lucked out with friends? What did he do to deserve it?
He sighed. No merits. Nothing. Like he fell from the Moon, isn't that how they say? What useful thing had he done for Harry? Set him against Malfoy? Could've quietly explained it's a dangerous family. Not throwing fists nearly every time. And about the wizarding world turned out he himself knew little. Despite being born in it.
Merlin and Morgana, what was wrong with him?
That friends hadn't lucked out with him, Ron realized recently. He felt disgusted. And before would've poured all this on... probably Granger. Though Harry would've caught it too. But now he couldn't.
Bad, how bad everything was... Though he couldn't, that's probably good?
But if it's about embroidery, maybe not wear this robe? To hell with it? Or just unpick it, or burn it?
Yeah, and walk not even in hand-me-downs but in rags, the inner voice answered.
What about Reparo? Ron disagreed.
Will restore everything together to original form.
Ugh. Who are you anyway?
What do you mean?
Well, you're in my head and sort of talking with me.
I'm your crazy. Your brain protects itself so the roof doesn't completely slide off.
Who? What roof?
Several minutes later Ron learned he was much smarter than he thought. That part of his consciousness, blocked before, now worked perfectly. Even had some bonuses. Like a sense of trouble. And for useful things—also.
Soon he got used to it. He started enjoying conversation with a smart person. Especially realizing it wasn't just anyone but himself. Cool. So what if Muggles treat this intensively. Among wizards... By the way, what about wizards?
Before he'd ask Hermione or even Harry. But now? Harry definitely had nowhere to go. And Hermione... for some reason Ron started getting shy around her. Actually he was just ashamed.
No, he must figure out his questions himself. And anyway, very personal. They already helped with rune embroidery.
The inner voice approved that decision incidentally.
And Ron Weasley headed to the library. Well what, were there other options?
Madam Pince nearly had a stroke when he grabbed a pile of wizard biographies—all he could reach, the guy was already quite tall—and purposefully buried himself head-first. Making notes gradually.
Then somewhere something banged and fell. He paid no attention though his stomach already rumbled and creaked unambiguously. Spent lunchtime among books. Not even thinking about running to the dining hall.
First, biographies turned out insanely interesting. Second, he found something about inner voices like his. Even Merlin himself had one apparently! Co-o-ool!
***
A few days later he understood Professor Babbling was of course interested in his problem. But wasn't rushing dropping all her business solving it.
Before Ron would've sincerely gotten indignant. He still remembered how it's done. But...
Are you paying her money? Shiza asked—what Ron called his inner companion. Well, he'd introduced himself that way!
What money? For what?
What, she should spend nights over your scribbles just because? From love of art? Or maybe for you, my sunshine?
Ron imagined himself in the professor's place. He was horrified. How many papers to check! And older students had working runes! Dangerous!
And here he was with his embroidered underpants and robe. Yeah...
Alive, healthy. True, a bit of an idiot in places.
The conclusion proved logical and simple—figure it out himself. When it comes to action, bring for checking. By the way, he'd read and now even knew the spell, how they replicate patterns on all clothes so everything's identical. Just need the right source image.
Well for himself he'll definitely try hard!
***
Having calmed down about the inner voice and incidentally learned plenty interesting about famous—and not so famous—wizards of the past, Ron tackled his main problem. This time surrounded himself with rune reference books...
Fred and George Weasley, noticing WHAT was happening with their brother, felt something very much like brain explosion.
"Ronnie's sitting in the library, blowing my eyes out..."
"Tell the headmaster, brother Forge? Remember he asked—if anything changes significantly, report to him?"
"Know what I'll tell you, brother Gred... he doesn't pay us that much."
"That's our brother." George nodded. "And I haven't liked what's happening to him for a while. At home it was somehow unnoticeable. But here... Don't even really want to admit this degenerate's relative. But it's worth learning the details. For ourselves."
"Agreed, brother. We'll help and cover. Strange crap's happening. Even Potter became something. Normal kid. Not for nothing the Master worked with him all summer."
"Eh." Fred sighed. "Some people are lucky. Even got a month of detentions. Seems to me they've got something interesting brewing there."
"Yeah, Potter's a lucky bastard in general." His brother chuckled. "Just remember him on a broom!"
For the Potions master the twins were ready for much—almost everything. And knew keeping mouths shut perfectly. Whatever everyone else thought about them.
They'd gotten the trick after second year when the professor, hissing like an angry cobra, left them for detention. Threw an interesting journal in plain sight—had just what they needed for Bubbly Potion. He "didn't notice" how they simply nicked it. Returned it later though. But how truthfully he'd been surprised! That's when it hit them. Yeah there'd been a bookmark too.
Then they got their essays back with "Troll" grade standing strangely far from the main text. The guys guessed heating the paper. When words appeared on it, it came to real delight. Spent a couple more weeks inventing their own invisible ink to write back.
Since then they have corresponded with the professor. Sharing ideas. Getting qualified consultations about them.
They understood perfectly they wouldn't find this in any book. Secretly dreamed that after Hogwarts the potioneer would take at least one as apprentice. They needed money for that. So they tackled the most accessible thing available—pranks. Well anything really as long as they paid.
So the headmaster warmed them up. Promised a galleon a month. But that's just work. So they owe him nothing yet. Whatever and whoever plans, they're not harming their own brother. Much less letting Master down. Well, they gave an oath of course. Simple one—not telling anyone who hired them and why.
"The headmaster's displeased. Said the parents should've taken Potter to the Burrow for summer."
"You were eavesdropping, brother?"
"Information is everything!"
"Eavesdropping's bad, brother. Especially without me! What else was there?"
"The headmaster worried about not 'taking away Potter's happy childhood,'" George said sarcastically. "That's about the Master, as I understood, that he started teaching him. Like God forbid the kid thinks about something."
"Well yeah," Fred giggled. "Such childhood, flowers and butterflies, yeah. Imagine, Potter in hand-me-downs worse than Ron's. Dirt under his nails. And they fed him judging by appearance, every other time or only on Mondays. Awesome, the kid had happiness."
"So let Dumbledore shove off! And anyway, stupid Harry, dumb Ron—why does he need such? No, I don't like all this."
"So we tell nobody at all. Because parents will immediately snitch. He seems to have them on something too."
"Think they're also earning? Like us?"
"Doubt it. Otherwise Mum would at least dress Ginny up."
"By the way, what do we tell Ginny?"
"Why? She still hasn't recovered from last year. And... honestly I don't trust her yet. Though it's high time to think about how to help my little sister. Find that bastard... I'd show him..."
Ginny really walked a pale shadow of herself. Didn't get into anything at all. Even seemed not noticing Harry. Hermione still tried talking to her a bit. The girl lived with her somewhat.
And the twins decided they needed talking to their younger brother. Didn't put it off.
***
Catching their brother in an unusual place—leaving the library—they dragged him into the first empty classroom. Threw up silencing charms. Found out everything.
Well not everything of course. But how Ron understood what was happening.
Were impressed.
Then decided the guy shouldn't show himself yet. Bombarded him with advice.
"Eat like crazy, a couple times noticeably messy. Roll on Malfoy..."
"No, roll on everyone just in case. Malfoy alone isn't enough."
"This is... this is how I acted?!" Ron was stunned and indignant. "Who did this? Think it's all because of runes?"
"No idea..."
"Mum doesn't embroider, we know for sure."
"Then who? What bastard did this to me?!"
"Know what, little brother, you should be careful. Whoever it was—at least a strong mage, no doubt."
George started choking. When he finally stopped wheezing and caught his breath, only added one thing:
"Can't tell you more."
"He can't," Fred explained. And also started coughing.
"Already got it." Ron nodded, bristling slightly. "So you're the headmaster's spies?"
And for the first time saw his brazen, cocky and irrepressible older brothers... blush.
"Though... that's actually great. You can't notice everything and hear everything, right?"
"That's for sure!"
"Definitely can't!"
"And..." Ron calculated what it would cost him. The conclusions were disappointing. "How much?"
And was stunned by the answer.
"Are you... you..." the twins whispered dumbfounded. "Don't you dare... You're our brother!"
"You just remembered?.."
"Want us swearing?"
"Unbreakable I want."
"Oops. Ah, wait, that's just what we need! Nobody can even Legilimens! Yes!"
"Little brother, you're a genius!"
"Repeat that. I'm freaking out and loving it. Well what, is it hard for you?"
"Ron Weasley's a smartass!!!"