Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Let's Try That Again, Shall We?
The Harry Potter universe is the creation of J.K. Rowling. This is fanfiction. The standard disclaimers apply.
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Chapter 40: Many Christmases
December 26th, 1990.
Oliver Wood
Charlie had floo-called, excited about the prospect of Oliver getting Harry Potter as a seeker next year. For once in his life, Oliver was less excited about something quidditch-related than Charlie was, but that was only out of skepticism. They would go over to see Harry tomorrow so Oliver could watch.
Charlie said he'd bring Ginny along to balance things out—Oliver thought Charlie was secretly, or maybe not-so-secretly, trying to get his sister on the team in two years, too. If she turned out to be good, that would be wonderful, of course. But the Weasleys had been lucky to have so many good players in a row—it wasn't a sure bet that the run would continue. Maybe he should get Ron to come over, just for good measure. Sure, why not.
Harry, though, Charlie had less incentive to bend the facts about, so Oliver certainly was hopeful. No one would ever accuse him of not being hopeful enough.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Neville Longbottom
Harry had gotten a lot of presents this year. The biggest thing Neville got was a toad. "It's traditional, you can take it with you to Hogwarts, and it can help you in the greenhouse by eating pests. Isn't he cute?" He eventually conceded that he sort of liked the toad, and went back to his grandmother to say so the next day. A satisfied smile was all he received in return, which was better than her variant of "I told you so."
To be fair to his grandmother, nothing she could give him could compete with the assortment of rocks, nuts, seedpods, dead insects, bits of bone and shell, dried leaves and flowers, and all the other things Luna had found in the woods and brought to him over the few months that he had known her now. Luna had fast become his best friend, and he was incredibly grateful to Albus Dumbledore for meddling with the guest list at his party so that the Lovegoods would be there. His Gran might be mad at Dumbledore for what happened to Harry, but as far as Neville was concerned, the old wizard was okay in his book.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Amelia Bones
This had been Susan's last Christmas before going off to Hogwarts, and it was probably the last one at which Amelia could get away with giving the same kinds of dolls and storybooks that had made such excellent presents in past years. She would soon have to become more creative.
She was good at creative, but wished her need for it was restricted more to dealing with her niece and less with her job. The case against Peter Pettigrew was a mess. After repeated hearings and questioning under veritaserum, the Ministry had decided that Pettigrew had been under duress when he betrayed James and Lily, and had not in fact intended to hurt anyone with the explosion he caused escaping from Sirius Black.
The wizarding world had no concept of negligent manslaughter, so the normal resolution of a fight like that would be to allow the injured and the families of the deceased to sue for damages. In this case they were all muggles, and the complicated bureaucracy for compensating them had already been taken care of and closed without implicating Pettigrew. Whatever happened with the Weasleys, too, might be too remote from recognized crimes for the Ministry to pursue, and anyway Pettigrew had no assets for Arthur to go after. She was still working on that.
Weasleys aside, that left being an unregistered animagus as the only charge that looked like it would definitely stick, but that law had actually never been used up until now. Animagi were exceedingly rare, and so far all had been either content to register or competent at evading detection. And, by all accounts, Pettigrew had originally become one as a childhood prank and kept it secret because of the war. Lots of wizards had hidden things about themselves during the war, and in general the Ministry had been extremely lenient about that after the fact, at least for those wizards who had opposed Voldemort. And in fact Pettigrew had used his ability for the benefit of the Order of the Pheonix far, far more than he had used it for escaping from them, at least not counting what he did to the Weasleys.
There was also the fact that it was peculiar for the Ministry to put a man behind the bars of Azkaban for the crime of spending the last nine years behind the bars of a cage. Rita Skeeter had been the one to point that out, and had evidently thought it hilarious, as she had brought it up over and over in her articles. Not that Rita cared what happened to Pettigrew; she really was "just a journalist", interested only in sensationalism and getting paid.
A muggle prosecutor would have an easier time, able to pull from any number of obscure, vaguely-worded statutes enacted in the name of "law and order". Normally she preferred the simpler, more civilized, morally saner wizarding laws, but in this case she was frustrated. She could not, in fact, just make stuff up to get the outcome she wanted, which was to keep Pettigrew from being able to join up with any uncaptured Death Eaters. Amelia was pretty sure this is what would happen, even if under veritaserum Peter showed no intention. He was poor and easily intimidated, would be harassed by the public, and his animagus form would be useful to the Death Eaters. Heck, they might even be willing to reward him. So she couldn't just let him go without trying to put him away for something.
Oh, certainly the Wizengamot in theory retained the right to create common law crimes (although it hadn't in many decades), but Amelia wasn't sure what she would ask it to do if she decided to go that route. Which she definitely wouldn't. Fudge had instructed the entire Ministry to go slow and avoid the appearance of unfairness or a rigged trial—for once she agreed with him.
This does not mean she didn't have a plan. She was just unhappy about resorting to it. The fact was that what Pettigrew had done at the Weasleys was creepy—creepy enough that she had asked her clerks to come up with a way of charging him as a sex offender. It avoided the embarrassment of the animagus law, and had an actual victim they could point to. She wasn't sure how Arthur would take the idea, though. She could compel Percy's testimony, but that would look extremely bad given the information he would have to disclose in court.
She could hear how it would go already: "Did you normally undress in your room whenever you changed? So about how many times a day was that, and for how long? And was the defendant watching? And what else did you do in front of the rat? Reaally. About how often do you suppose you did that? Please just estimate."
Then they'd have to run it all by Pettigrew to see what he had actually been watching. There was no way she could get away with doing it in a closed session either, or before anything less than the full Wizengamot. Pettigrew was smart—smart enough to realize no one wanted to put Percy through that, or at least he would be if anyone had tipped him off that they were considering any sort of sex crimes charges against him, let alone questioned him about them. She had finally gotten him into Azkaban, though, and was keeping very close watch over who came to speak to him.
For now, that was good, but she was increasingly under pressure to settle on charges and schedule a trial.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
4 Privet Drive
A funny-looking man had arrived at the doorstep a few weeks ago. Vernon simply assumed he was a wizard, even though his style of dress didn't look like either the reporter or the crazy old man. He said he was an "auror"—the wizard equivalent of a police officer, and that he was checking whether anyone had bothered the Dursleys since they had spoken to Rita. No one had. The man said they had been keeping an eye on the street and everything had seemed okay to them, too.
"But, you know," the man had explained, "anything about Harry is big news, and I guess you're pretty famous and controversial now too. It's no different for wizards than muggles—if you get in the news over something like that, there's always some nutjob out there who might decide to come after you.
And Harry, you know, he's ten, and the only real celebrity his age among British wizards, so there are a lot of children who are going to be obsessed with him, too."
"What are you getting at?"
"Just to be a little more careful during Christmas break, when the kids are home from school. Other than that, Mr. Dursley, the problem is we really don't know what to tell you to do. It's the same way for us as it would be for muggle affairs—your police will protect a celebrity for a little while, but once it looks like nothing's going to happen, we're not going to sit around watching you for no reason, and we assume you wouldn't want us to, either."
"Damn straight I wouldn't!"
"Good. Basically, unless something happens before the end of the year, you're on your own with this."
"Are your people behind that boy Piers disappearing?"
The man shrugged. "We sure wish we knew—looked into it and got nowhere. Like muggle police, we don't solve every case."
"Hmph."
"Anyway, unless you have questions, I'll leave you alone now."
"Glad to hear it."
"Merry Christmas, Mr. Dursley!" The man turned and vanished into the shadows. Vernon didn't even bother watching him go.
He had said nothing to Petunia or Dudley about it, but he had made sure his gun was in working order.
This Christmas had, indeed, been uneventful, but he had spent it being nervous, looking out the windows a lot and jumping at things that weren't there. If his family noticed, they didn't say.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Quirinius Quirrel
The Muggle Studies professor spent Christmas alone in a room at the Leaky Cauldron, feeding arugula to his iguana, leaf by leaf. It was easier for his master to contact him while he was outside of Hogwarts, and he wanted more time to practice his stutter before facing Dumbledore again. Helping his master rise to power would be exciting, but in the meantime he was bored.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alexandra Misselbrook
Sandra had point-blank asked her parents, other relatives, Sirius, and anyone who would listen, really, for potions ingredients for Christmas. "I want to brew polyjuice so I can play pranks on people at school," she had said, and then given them a list of ingredients.
This had turned out to be a perfectly fine Christmas-list strategy, assuming it was what she really wanted, which it was. Everyone had been pleased to have such an easy way to make her happy, and she now had a whole bunch of ingredients, including a variety not intended for polyjuice, "because it's so nice to see you taking an interest in potions!" Of course, no one had coordinated with anyone else, so she now had five pounds of antimony and no leeches or lacewings. That was fine, those were perishable and weren't good for putting under the tree anyway. Aside from those, though, her loot included all the really annoying ingredients, like the bicorn horn and the boomslang skin.
Restricted section? Bah. Her family hadn't blinked. Maybe if she had asked for love potions . . . actually then they'd just worry about her and give her lectures about boys. At least her parents were sensible, even if her friends weren't.
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Author's notes:
I want to go a few chapters without distracting author's notes. The reason why will be clear soon enough.
First, a reminder that there is interesting stuff in the reviews and my responses to them.
The next chapter (41, not finished yet) is another Trelawney chapter, and one where I give a glimpse of another Hogwarts professor. Again, I am giving Trelawney (and this other professor) out by the teaspoon-full, because there is so much I could do there that it would swallow the rest of the story. Trelawney is one of my foils to wizarding society, because she feels like an outsider everywhere, but the way I have written her she is also a bottomless well of potential NC-17 material.
So chapter 41 is partly a writing exercise, but using her is a sort of nod to what I hope to do with her later. In chapter 2 I tried to use Trelawney to write myself a blank check with respect to material I was allowed to write, and in chapter 42 (which is not Trelawney-related) I will be cashing it and hoping it's still good. Obviously, I'm really hoping I get away with it.
Maybe it will be clear why I insisted on waiting so long, maybe it totally won't. I might or might not explain, because the reason is a completely silly one (if, somehow, you have somewhere along the way mistaken this for a Serious Work Of Literature, I'm not sure what's wrong except that you are probably missing a lot of jokes).
Chapter 42 is explicit, much more epic than anything in the story so far, and several times longer than any other chapter. It and the chapter after it will either stand on their own two feet or not, and it would detract from them to say too much about them.
And after that I know what happens but haven't written it yet. :P
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Chapter 40: Many Christmases
December 26th, 1990.
Oliver Wood
Charlie had floo-called, excited about the prospect of Oliver getting Harry Potter as a seeker next year. For once in his life, Oliver was less excited about something quidditch-related than Charlie was, but that was only out of skepticism. They would go over to see Harry tomorrow so Oliver could watch.
Charlie said he'd bring Ginny along to balance things out—Oliver thought Charlie was secretly, or maybe not-so-secretly, trying to get his sister on the team in two years, too. If she turned out to be good, that would be wonderful, of course. But the Weasleys had been lucky to have so many good players in a row—it wasn't a sure bet that the run would continue. Maybe he should get Ron to come over, just for good measure. Sure, why not.
Harry, though, Charlie had less incentive to bend the facts about, so Oliver certainly was hopeful. No one would ever accuse him of not being hopeful enough.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Neville Longbottom
Harry had gotten a lot of presents this year. The biggest thing Neville got was a toad. "It's traditional, you can take it with you to Hogwarts, and it can help you in the greenhouse by eating pests. Isn't he cute?" He eventually conceded that he sort of liked the toad, and went back to his grandmother to say so the next day. A satisfied smile was all he received in return, which was better than her variant of "I told you so."
To be fair to his grandmother, nothing she could give him could compete with the assortment of rocks, nuts, seedpods, dead insects, bits of bone and shell, dried leaves and flowers, and all the other things Luna had found in the woods and brought to him over the few months that he had known her now. Luna had fast become his best friend, and he was incredibly grateful to Albus Dumbledore for meddling with the guest list at his party so that the Lovegoods would be there. His Gran might be mad at Dumbledore for what happened to Harry, but as far as Neville was concerned, the old wizard was okay in his book.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Amelia Bones
This had been Susan's last Christmas before going off to Hogwarts, and it was probably the last one at which Amelia could get away with giving the same kinds of dolls and storybooks that had made such excellent presents in past years. She would soon have to become more creative.
She was good at creative, but wished her need for it was restricted more to dealing with her niece and less with her job. The case against Peter Pettigrew was a mess. After repeated hearings and questioning under veritaserum, the Ministry had decided that Pettigrew had been under duress when he betrayed James and Lily, and had not in fact intended to hurt anyone with the explosion he caused escaping from Sirius Black.
The wizarding world had no concept of negligent manslaughter, so the normal resolution of a fight like that would be to allow the injured and the families of the deceased to sue for damages. In this case they were all muggles, and the complicated bureaucracy for compensating them had already been taken care of and closed without implicating Pettigrew. Whatever happened with the Weasleys, too, might be too remote from recognized crimes for the Ministry to pursue, and anyway Pettigrew had no assets for Arthur to go after. She was still working on that.
Weasleys aside, that left being an unregistered animagus as the only charge that looked like it would definitely stick, but that law had actually never been used up until now. Animagi were exceedingly rare, and so far all had been either content to register or competent at evading detection. And, by all accounts, Pettigrew had originally become one as a childhood prank and kept it secret because of the war. Lots of wizards had hidden things about themselves during the war, and in general the Ministry had been extremely lenient about that after the fact, at least for those wizards who had opposed Voldemort. And in fact Pettigrew had used his ability for the benefit of the Order of the Pheonix far, far more than he had used it for escaping from them, at least not counting what he did to the Weasleys.
There was also the fact that it was peculiar for the Ministry to put a man behind the bars of Azkaban for the crime of spending the last nine years behind the bars of a cage. Rita Skeeter had been the one to point that out, and had evidently thought it hilarious, as she had brought it up over and over in her articles. Not that Rita cared what happened to Pettigrew; she really was "just a journalist", interested only in sensationalism and getting paid.
A muggle prosecutor would have an easier time, able to pull from any number of obscure, vaguely-worded statutes enacted in the name of "law and order". Normally she preferred the simpler, more civilized, morally saner wizarding laws, but in this case she was frustrated. She could not, in fact, just make stuff up to get the outcome she wanted, which was to keep Pettigrew from being able to join up with any uncaptured Death Eaters. Amelia was pretty sure this is what would happen, even if under veritaserum Peter showed no intention. He was poor and easily intimidated, would be harassed by the public, and his animagus form would be useful to the Death Eaters. Heck, they might even be willing to reward him. So she couldn't just let him go without trying to put him away for something.
Oh, certainly the Wizengamot in theory retained the right to create common law crimes (although it hadn't in many decades), but Amelia wasn't sure what she would ask it to do if she decided to go that route. Which she definitely wouldn't. Fudge had instructed the entire Ministry to go slow and avoid the appearance of unfairness or a rigged trial—for once she agreed with him.
This does not mean she didn't have a plan. She was just unhappy about resorting to it. The fact was that what Pettigrew had done at the Weasleys was creepy—creepy enough that she had asked her clerks to come up with a way of charging him as a sex offender. It avoided the embarrassment of the animagus law, and had an actual victim they could point to. She wasn't sure how Arthur would take the idea, though. She could compel Percy's testimony, but that would look extremely bad given the information he would have to disclose in court.
She could hear how it would go already: "Did you normally undress in your room whenever you changed? So about how many times a day was that, and for how long? And was the defendant watching? And what else did you do in front of the rat? Reaally. About how often do you suppose you did that? Please just estimate."
Then they'd have to run it all by Pettigrew to see what he had actually been watching. There was no way she could get away with doing it in a closed session either, or before anything less than the full Wizengamot. Pettigrew was smart—smart enough to realize no one wanted to put Percy through that, or at least he would be if anyone had tipped him off that they were considering any sort of sex crimes charges against him, let alone questioned him about them. She had finally gotten him into Azkaban, though, and was keeping very close watch over who came to speak to him.
For now, that was good, but she was increasingly under pressure to settle on charges and schedule a trial.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
4 Privet Drive
A funny-looking man had arrived at the doorstep a few weeks ago. Vernon simply assumed he was a wizard, even though his style of dress didn't look like either the reporter or the crazy old man. He said he was an "auror"—the wizard equivalent of a police officer, and that he was checking whether anyone had bothered the Dursleys since they had spoken to Rita. No one had. The man said they had been keeping an eye on the street and everything had seemed okay to them, too.
"But, you know," the man had explained, "anything about Harry is big news, and I guess you're pretty famous and controversial now too. It's no different for wizards than muggles—if you get in the news over something like that, there's always some nutjob out there who might decide to come after you.
And Harry, you know, he's ten, and the only real celebrity his age among British wizards, so there are a lot of children who are going to be obsessed with him, too."
"What are you getting at?"
"Just to be a little more careful during Christmas break, when the kids are home from school. Other than that, Mr. Dursley, the problem is we really don't know what to tell you to do. It's the same way for us as it would be for muggle affairs—your police will protect a celebrity for a little while, but once it looks like nothing's going to happen, we're not going to sit around watching you for no reason, and we assume you wouldn't want us to, either."
"Damn straight I wouldn't!"
"Good. Basically, unless something happens before the end of the year, you're on your own with this."
"Are your people behind that boy Piers disappearing?"
The man shrugged. "We sure wish we knew—looked into it and got nowhere. Like muggle police, we don't solve every case."
"Hmph."
"Anyway, unless you have questions, I'll leave you alone now."
"Glad to hear it."
"Merry Christmas, Mr. Dursley!" The man turned and vanished into the shadows. Vernon didn't even bother watching him go.
He had said nothing to Petunia or Dudley about it, but he had made sure his gun was in working order.
This Christmas had, indeed, been uneventful, but he had spent it being nervous, looking out the windows a lot and jumping at things that weren't there. If his family noticed, they didn't say.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Quirinius Quirrel
The Muggle Studies professor spent Christmas alone in a room at the Leaky Cauldron, feeding arugula to his iguana, leaf by leaf. It was easier for his master to contact him while he was outside of Hogwarts, and he wanted more time to practice his stutter before facing Dumbledore again. Helping his master rise to power would be exciting, but in the meantime he was bored.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alexandra Misselbrook
Sandra had point-blank asked her parents, other relatives, Sirius, and anyone who would listen, really, for potions ingredients for Christmas. "I want to brew polyjuice so I can play pranks on people at school," she had said, and then given them a list of ingredients.
This had turned out to be a perfectly fine Christmas-list strategy, assuming it was what she really wanted, which it was. Everyone had been pleased to have such an easy way to make her happy, and she now had a whole bunch of ingredients, including a variety not intended for polyjuice, "because it's so nice to see you taking an interest in potions!" Of course, no one had coordinated with anyone else, so she now had five pounds of antimony and no leeches or lacewings. That was fine, those were perishable and weren't good for putting under the tree anyway. Aside from those, though, her loot included all the really annoying ingredients, like the bicorn horn and the boomslang skin.
Restricted section? Bah. Her family hadn't blinked. Maybe if she had asked for love potions . . . actually then they'd just worry about her and give her lectures about boys. At least her parents were sensible, even if her friends weren't.
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
Author's notes:
I want to go a few chapters without distracting author's notes. The reason why will be clear soon enough.
First, a reminder that there is interesting stuff in the reviews and my responses to them.
The next chapter (41, not finished yet) is another Trelawney chapter, and one where I give a glimpse of another Hogwarts professor. Again, I am giving Trelawney (and this other professor) out by the teaspoon-full, because there is so much I could do there that it would swallow the rest of the story. Trelawney is one of my foils to wizarding society, because she feels like an outsider everywhere, but the way I have written her she is also a bottomless well of potential NC-17 material.
So chapter 41 is partly a writing exercise, but using her is a sort of nod to what I hope to do with her later. In chapter 2 I tried to use Trelawney to write myself a blank check with respect to material I was allowed to write, and in chapter 42 (which is not Trelawney-related) I will be cashing it and hoping it's still good. Obviously, I'm really hoping I get away with it.
Maybe it will be clear why I insisted on waiting so long, maybe it totally won't. I might or might not explain, because the reason is a completely silly one (if, somehow, you have somewhere along the way mistaken this for a Serious Work Of Literature, I'm not sure what's wrong except that you are probably missing a lot of jokes).
Chapter 42 is explicit, much more epic than anything in the story so far, and several times longer than any other chapter. It and the chapter after it will either stand on their own two feet or not, and it would detract from them to say too much about them.
And after that I know what happens but haven't written it yet. :P
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