Categories > Books > Harry Potter > An American Wizard in Hogwarts
The Return
3 reviewsThe Americans return to England. They meet some new friends. And something unexpected happens.
5Original
Disclaimer: A rooster is sitting on top of a house. If it lays an egg, what side will it fall on?
Chapter 12: The Return
Upon reaching London Harry, Matt, and James--who had shaved his head bald and was wearing prescription sunglasses and a St. Louis Cardinals baseball cap--were met by Clive Granger at the terminal. He showed them to his car--a brand new S Class--and he drove back to Surrey.
"So what happened the Jag?" James asked.
"It was a piece of crap. It was in the repair shop once a week. Candy traded it in for a Bimmer," Clive said.
"Dad told you Jaguar's were crap," Matt said from the back seat.
"I believed him, but Candy had her heart set on the Jag, and nothing I said could convince her otherwise," Clive replied.
"So this is /your/car, then?" James asked.
"Is it /that/obvious?" Clive replied sarcastically.
It was nearly midnight local time when they reached the Granger house. The three Americans went to sleep almost immediately, with the help of a sleeping potion James had brought with him from home.
The next morning Hermione crept into the room Harry and Matt were sleeping in, intending to give them both a rude awakening. She held a smoke alarm to Matt's ear, and just as she prepared to hit the 'test' button, Matt grabbed her wrist, causing her to scream in surprise.
"Two things you should know. One, I'm a light sleeper lately, and two, I have much better hearing than you," he said as he released her wrist. "Oh, and the floorboard in front of the door is squeaky."
He gave a very cat-like yawn and stretched languorously. "So, what's on the itinerary today?" he asked, shaking his shoulder length reddish blonde hair out of his face.
"Well, today we're meeting the Weasleys in Diagon Alley to shop for school supplies," Hermione said. "So get up and get dressed. It's nearly nine o'clock and we're supposed to meet them before lunch.
An hour later Harry and Matt were dressed and ready to go. "Please tell me you're not wearing that out in public," Candace Granger said the minute Matt walked into the kitchen. He was wearing one of his black 'muscle shirts,' faded blue jeans with large holes in the knees, and a denim vest that had once been a jacket until Matt had cut the sleeves off.
"Yeah, so?" Matt replied; apparently unaware of how stupid everyone thought he looked.
Candace Granger just shook her head and said, "At least leave the vest behind today."
"All right, Aunt Candy," Matt said.
"How many times do Ihave to tell you not to call me that? The only people allowed to call me that are your mother and my husband," she said wearily.
Yes, Aunt Candace," Matt said. He went back up to the room he was staying in, and in a few minutes came down sans vest, wearing abetter fitting t-shirt instead of his 'muscle shirt.'
"That's...better," she said in a tone making it obvious she would prefer he wore a different pair of trousers.
The trip to the Leaky Cauldron was uneventful, and luckily no one recognized James once they got there.
They sat around for about half an hour before the fireplace erupted in emerald flames the height of a man, and seven people--one man, one woman, four boys and one girl, all with red hair--spilled out one at a time. The girl, upon seeing Harry and Matt, ducked behind her mother. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Hey look, Harry, you've got your first hanger-on," Matt laughed.
"Hardly. She hasn't shut up about you since I got back from Hogwarts, Matt," Ron said as he joined them at their table. Matt turned pale.
Ron managed to keep astraight face for about ten seconds before he lost it. "Just kidding, mate. It's Harry she's been fawning over. A real life celebrity and all that."
"If she's fawning over me because I'm the so-called--what's that term the tabloids use? Boy-Who-Lived, isn't it?" James nodded. "Anyway, as I was saying, if she's fawning over me because I'm the so-called Boy-Who-Lived, then I definitely don't want it. I'd prefer to be worshiped for my own achievements, like my Quidditch skills, or my striking good looks." Matt just laughed at him.
"Speaking of tabloids," Ron said, "did you hear that there was an American kid that registered as an animagus this summer? I heard that it was someone our age. Imagine that, the youngest person ever to achieve an animagus transformation. I didn't believe it at first considering that The Quibbler was the first to print the story, but the Prophet reported the same thing acouple of days later, so I'm not sure if it's real or not. What do you think about it?"
Matt and Harry exchanged asurprised look. "I'm surprised," Matt said.
"Surprised about what?The fact that the person is our age, or they're the youngest ever?"
"That the British media even picked up on that. You'd think that they'd be afraid to tell the blood-purity obsessed public that not only was the youngest ever Animagus an American, but also a muggleborn." Harry said.
"The reports didn't say anything about the kid's heritage, though." Ron protested. "So how would you know about that?"
Matt was perfectly still for a few seconds. Then they heard it. From somewhere nearby a low, inhuman growl was emanating. Ron looked around for the source, but didn't see anything. He looked at Matt and started to ask him if he heard anything, and realized he was the source of the sound. His eyes widened as his eyebrows ran for the cover of his hairline. "Y-y-you!?" Ron half asked, half shouted.
Matt nodded.
"What form?" Ron asked quietly.
"First you've got to promise not to tell," Matt said. When Ron took a magical oath not to tell anybody, Matt murmured, "Cougar," and that was it. Ron apparently knew him well enough not to push, as he let it go.
After lunch, the group went to Gringotts. They each went their separate ways to their vaults, then met back up in the lobby. They split up, James, Mr. Weasley, and Clive going to a very crowded Flourish and Blott's get books, and the rest stuck together to get the rest of the necessary supplies. Having heard Ron complain about being poor on multiple occasions the previous year, Matt and Harry had withdrawn extra money from their vaults, and throughout the day they found various excuses to pay for the supplies Mrs. Weasley was purchasing.
When she confronted them about it, Matt shrugged and said, "You know what they say, you can't take it with you."
"But what would your parents say, knowing you wasted your mon--" she started to say but was interrupted.
"With all due respect, ma'am, they wouldn't call this a waste. They'd be proud of me for doing the right thing. I think they'd be ashamed of me if I didn't at least try to help the less fortunate--no offense," Matt said, staring at his shoes. He really had to work hard to keep from making eye contact in a place as crowded as Diagon Alley.
Realizing she was getting nowhere with Matt, Mrs. Weasley turned to Harry. "Surely your dad would want you to spend wisely--" she was interrupted again, this time by the arrival of the men.
"--riously, James, Ican pay you back for the books!" Mr. Weasley was pleading.
"I already told you what you could do with your money," James said, sounding slightly irritated.
Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing--his own dad refusing to help someone in need!
"What's going on here?" Molly asked as the men came into view.
"It's not what it sounds like," Clive said as they started back towards the Leaky Cauldron.
"Oh, really?" Harry asked bitterly. "It sure/sounds/ like my father's being a miserly idiot."
"That's not it at all," James said. "I paid for all the books, and--"
"He refuses to let me pay for the books for my children," Mr. Weasley said, just this side of bitter. "Acting like my money's not good enough," he muttered.
"Arthur, consider it arepayment for the guidance you gave me after my family was killed by Death Eaters. You helped me through a bad time in my life, and this is how I choose to thank you," James said.
"I-I," Mr. Weasley began, "er, uh, thanks."
------
The next two weeks passed quickly. On the night before they left for Hogwarts, James received a note carried by Cardinal Fang, Sirius's owl. He called Harry, Hermione, and Matt to the room he was staying in. "Remember how I told you about the prophecies pertaining the Gray Lord?" they nodded. "Well, Sirius just sent me a letter with the contents of the prophecies." He handed them the sheet of parchment with the prophecies written on it.
They took it and went to the room Matt and Harry were staying in. There were four prophecies written on it, the most of which, the one about the Darkness, was made in 1921.
The first one, reputedly made by Nostradamus, was simple, but gave them no real information, except that the Gray Lord would not be from wherever the Darkness rose.
The Darkness will envelope the Great Isle
And hope will seem lost
When from across the sea
The Gray Lord shall rise
And gather about himself
The Forces of Twilight
The next one was about the Darkness. Just like the Nostradamus prophecy, there was no useful information contained with in it.
The Darkness comes
Old hatreds become new
Old wounds are reopened
Old evils return
Old heroes fall
And if The Darkness is not stopped
The world will burn for a thousand years
The third one was about the Gray Lord, and Hermione found it particularly interesting.
Possessed of uncommon ability
Branded as Nemesis
The reluctant general will assume
The mantle of Lord
And all those opposed to the Darkness
Shall follow him into battle
"See there, the second line?" Hermione asked after she finished reading the third prophecy.
"Not sure what you mean," Matt grunted. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry touch his forehead.
"No way!" Harry gasped.
"You told me once that you asked your parents why Voldemort wanted to kill you as a baby," Hermione said. "You said that they told you that they said a prophecy was made about the one who would defeat Voldemort. You said that the prophecy included the phrase 'He will mark him as his equal.' It might mean that he will stop at nothing to ki-eliminate you, making you his nemesis."
"You might be right. I hope to god you're wrong, though," Harry said. Hermione and Matt nodded their agreement.
The last prophecy, made only days after Nostradamus made the first one, was about the Forces of Twilight./]
[/
The Darkness will rise
And with it the Gray Lord
But he will not be alone
For around his banner
The Forces of Twilight shall rally.
The Reader, His enforcer, confidant, and advisor;
The Scholar, His light and His conscience;
The Seer, His guide through the mists of the future;
The White Witch, His first convert, she will bring more;
The Traitor, His strategist, he will betray his master;
The Jester, His most versatile companion, he will be underestimated by all
"Interesting," Hermione muttered. "This all but settles it, Harry. You're the Gray Lord. Or rather will be. The Reader is obviously Matt, and I'm obviously the Scholar, but I'm not sure what it means about 'His light and His conscience,'" Hermione said.
"It's ametaphor," Matt said, making yet another connection.
"A metaphor? For what?" Hermione asked.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, so let's leave it at that," Matt mumbled, making it obvious that was determined not to answer the question.
"Let's see... the Seer is obviously Luna," Hermione said. "What puzzles me is the last three. The White Witch, the Traitor, and the Jester."
"We'll just have to wait and find out," Harry said.
They stayed up a little bit longer before going to bed, but none of them slept very much that night.
The morning was less hectic than the year previous, allowing the group to reach Platform 9 3/4 with an hour to spare. The trio found acompartment near the middle of the train, facing away from the platform and settled in. Ten minutes before the train was scheduled to leave, the door opened on the compartment now containing Luna Lovegood and Ron Weasley in addition to Harry, Matt, and Hermione.
"Is there room in this compartment?" a shy female's voice said.
Harry said,"Sure."
Matt looked up, careful not to make eye contact, as Harry said this. The source of the voice was a pale girl with pale blond hair. After watching her with her trunk for a few seconds, Matt, who was closest, stood and helped her to get it stowed away in the overhead rack.
As everyone sat back down the girl introduced herself as Lucy, saying that she was glad that she didn't have to sit with her big brother and his friends.
"My name is Harry Potter, these are my best friends, Matt Robertson and Hermione Granger," he indicated first Matt, then Hermione, "that's Luna Lovegood," he indicated the girl now hidden behind a copy of /The Quibbler/--the one that reported about Matt registering as an animagus, even if it didn't mention him by name--"and that's Ron Weasley," Harry pointed at the boy absentmindedly stroking a new white rat named Pinky that Matt had bought for him two weeks ago.
The girl turned to Matt and said, "Are you the same Matt Robertson my brother's always complaining about?"
"That depends. Who's your big brother?" Matt asked.
"I am," afamiliar, if unwelcome voice issued from the still open compartment door. Draco Malfoy sneered at all the inhabitants of the compartment before turning to the girl and saying, "Come, Lucilla. Father told me to keep an eye on you, make sure you don't end up sitting with the riff-raff," he shook his head "I leave you alone while I go to the loo, and you wander off to sit with this filth, " he gave everyone another sneer. "I managed to get a seat reserved for you in a compartment near my own, so get your stuff and come with me."
Lucy stayed put. "I'm not going anywhere. Father doesn't care about me, all he cares about is whether or not I embarrass him," she said.
Draco made a grab for her wrist, but before his hand had closed even half the distance, Matt had his pale wrist in a vice-like grip--one much stronger than it was in January. "You heard the girl, Tinkerbell," Matt said, realizing as he said it that Stay-Puft and Michelin were not flanking the boy. "Now I suggest you leave before I have to hurt you," Draco's pale face showed plainly that Matt was already doing so. Matt gave Draco's wrist an extra hard squeeze before releasing it. "And don't even think about going for your wand," Matt added as Draco's hand twitched towards his pocket.
"I'm not leaving without my sister," Draco said defiantly.
"She's not going if she doesn't want to, Tinkerbell."
Matt half turned to look at Lucy, "Do you--I told you not to do that, Tinkerbell," Matt said as he grabbed Draco's arm and twisted until he heard a pop followed immediately by ascream. "Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, do you want to go with him, Lucy?" Matt said, still holding Draco's wrist.
"No, I don't. If I wanted to sit with you, Draco, I wouldn't have snuck off," Lucy sneered at him.
"There you have it, Tinkerbell, the lady does not want to go with you," Matt popped the shoulder back into joint, eliciting another scream, "so fuck off!" As Draco staggered out of the compartment, Matt shut the door.
"So you're a Malfoy, huh?" Harry said to Lucy, making it a question.
"Yes, Lucilla Porcia Malfoy, at your service--Lucy for short. So," Her voice became a scared whisper, "are you gonna kick me out of the compartment now?"
"Why would we do that?" Hermione asked.
"Because I'm aMalfoy?" Lucy asked weakly.
"Matt, do your thing," Harry said.
"What's he mean by that" Lucy started to ask Matt, though the last word was choked out amidst a gasp of surprise. Matt, too, drew in a surprised breath. Her soul was nearly as flawless as her skin, marred only by sadness from being ignored. But that was not what surprised him. He experienced the sensation of his own soul being laid bare before this girl's deep blue eyes, but what really surprised him was that he was able to see his own soul as well, and the two slotted together like a puzzle, then the vision disappeared like clouds parting after a rainstorm. /That was weird/, he thought to himself, as he stared at his shoes, picking at the frayed edges of the holes in the knees of his blue jeans
"Did you say something?" Lucy asked Matt.
"No," Matt grunted, looking up at her.
"I could have sworn Iheard something," Lucy said, her lips not moving.
"Did you just say something?" Matt asked carefully.
Lucy frowned, "No, why?"
/Can you hear this?/Matt thought.
"Yes," Lucy said out loud. Her jaw dropped. His lips didn't move! Matt heard in his head.
Neither did yours just now, Matt countered in his head.
"What's going on?" Hermione asked.
"Somehow, I've ended up sharing a mind with Malfoy's eleven year old sister, I think," Matt said softly.
"I'll have you know that today's my twelfth birthday," Lucy said.
"Well, happy birthday. I hope you like the present I got you!" Matt exclaimed bitterly
"Hate it. You /did/keep the receipt, right?" Lucy shot back sarcastically, and Matt couldn't help but grin.
"If you're done with your witty repartee, Matt, perhaps you could tell us what you think about her?" Hermione said.
Matt described everything he saw in great detail. The rest seemed to accept her at this, though Hermione had a thoughtful look on her face.
"How did you see that, and why did I see the same thing?" Lucy asked impatiently.
"I saw it because I'm a soul reader. I don't know why you saw it," Matt muttered.
"A what?" Lucilla asked.
"A soul reader. I can look into a person's eyes and see their soul," Matt said. "It's a very rare ability."
"How come I've never heard of it?" Lucilla asked.
"It has never shown up in a pureblood. Your father, being ablood-purist, would be loath to even admit it's existence, much less teach about it--especially since there's an exceedingly small chance of you ever actually meeting one." Harry said.
As the train hurtled through the English countryside on it's way to the Scottish highlands and Hogwarts, the Gryffindor second years got to know Lucy, and Lucy got to know them. Several times during the afternoon Matt caught Lucy staring at him--though Lucy caught him staring at her just as often. Other than that, the train ride was quite boring.
------
"Malfoy, Lucilla," The stern woman--Professor McGonagall, the big man had called her--said.
Lucy nervously stepped up to the rickety stool. She put on the hat, and it stopped just shy of her shoulders. She jerked when she heard the voice in her head say, "Ah, another Malfoy, but not just any Malfoy. I sense cunning, yes, but where is the ambition? No, you aren't cut out for Slytherin. What have we here? You're already bonded to your soul mate? Very rare for one so young. Ah, that explains it." The hat paused, seemingly waiting for her to ask what it meant.
She took the bait. "What explains it?"
"The soul reader. He's the one. But we need to get back to the business at hand. Let's see, good mind, just not good enough for Ravenclaw. Definitely not suited for Hufflepuff. But courage and valor, definitely got plenty of that. Good thing too, because it was only ever going to be...GRYFFINDOR!"/]
As she walked over to the Gryffindor table she pondered what the Hat had meant when it said 'The soul reader. He's the one.' She only vaguely noticed that the entire Slytherin table was booing and hissing, while Gryffindor was making no noise at all.
------
Meanwhile, Matt, who had quickly figured out how to deaden his end of the link--or whatever it was called--managed to catch the whole conversation without sending his thoughts. Of course! he thought, mentally kicking himself for not seeing it earlier. [/The puzzle piece thing--two parts of one whole. I guess the shtick about married couples being joined into one being isn't just a metaphor, after all. He shook his head.
By the time Lucy sat down across from him, his thoughts were drowned out amidst the drone of Lucy's thoughts. Your thoughts are distracting me, Lucy, Matt thought in her direction, lowering his shields just long enough to send the thought.
It's not like I can control it! Lucy snapped in her mind. In response Matt tried to send the memories of how he blocked his mind off, using a process similar to how he blocked his soul reading ability. He spent the rest of the sorting, all of the meal, and the beginning of Dumbledore's speech helping her figure it out. It wasn't until Harry did a spit-take with his pumpkin juice that Matt looked up noticing the world around him again.
"What happened?" Matt asked.
"In case you didn't hear, Dumbledore hired Gilderoy Lockhart as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Harry said.
"He's a bit of afairy, but if even half the books are true, then he can't be all that bad of a teacher," Matt commented.
"He's also a self important windbag who's willing to put his face on anything and everything," Ron added.
"Sooo...that makes him the magical version of Gene Simmons, then?" Matt added.
Harry thought about this for a second. "Basically," he said.
As everyone was filing out of the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall came up behind Matt, Harry, and Hermione. "I'd like to see you in my office, Mr. Robertson," she said before walking off. Matt looked at Harry, who shrugged and then he trudged off after the head of Gryffindor House.
Upon reaching her office, Matt was ushered in. He never felt comfortable in a teacher's office--though Professor McGonagall's office was undoubtedly more welcoming than Professor Snape's.
"I recently received aletter from the U.S.D.M.C.--" she began before Matt interrupted her.
"The what?" Matt asked.
"The United States Department of Magical Concerns, Mr. Robertson," she clarified. "They regulate the magical world on U.S. soil. My point is that they sent a letter to Hogwarts informing the school of your recent achievement. Congratulations are in order, as well as twenty points for Gryffindor. If I may ask though, how did you do it? You've only had a year's worth of Transfiguration training, and meditation takes months, sometimes years, to achieve the transformation, and it still requires multiple years of Transfiguration training."
"I just, kinda, merged my magic with my beast and forced it outward ma'am," Matt mumbled.
"You do know that the ability to enact the first change 'by force of will' as that method is often referred to, is--was--nothing more than theory, right?" The transfiguration professor said.
"No, I didn't ma'am," Matt said.
"It did not say anything about the form in the letter. If I may ask, can I see it?" The professor asked.
Instead of answering, Matt closed is eyes and seemed to melt into the shape of a very large mountain lion. From the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail he was almost nine feet long.
"Impressive," Professor McGonagall said, writing notes on a piece of parchment as Matt paced around the small office. Jotting down the distinctive markings, I guess Matt thought. Matt screamed once then returned to human form.
"So what were the distinctive markings, Professor? I've never seen them myself," Matt asked.
"Just a slightly rusty tinge to the head and neck, and the eyes. That's a distinctive enough shade in humans, much less in wild animals." The professor smiled before continuing, "Maybe the grace afforded by your animal form will help you with your wandwork."
"Yeah," Matt grunted as he left, "maybe."
I wonder what the password is, Matt thought as he approached the Fat Lady.
/Walden/, came the response in his head.
How long have I been broadcasting? Matt asked to the voice of Lucy in his head.
You haven't. That's the first time I heard you since dinner, the girl responded.
You still up? Matt asked.
No, I was asleep until you started babbling in my head, was the exhausted reply.
Sleep well, your gonna have one hell of a day tomorrow, Matt said as he reached the dorm he shared with the other Gryffindor second years. He stayed up long enough to change into his pajamas and brush his teeth before collapsing into bed.
It had been a long day.
------
A/N: It's done. I didn't think I'd get this done so quickly, but after getting stuck at the end of the Diagon Alley scene; I took a break to write the four prophecies whereupon inspiration struck. Overall, it's a pretty weak chapter, in my opinion, but it contains quite a bit of important story related information.
Questions? Comments?Plotholes? Just leave a review, and I'll get back to you.
Chapter 12: The Return
Upon reaching London Harry, Matt, and James--who had shaved his head bald and was wearing prescription sunglasses and a St. Louis Cardinals baseball cap--were met by Clive Granger at the terminal. He showed them to his car--a brand new S Class--and he drove back to Surrey.
"So what happened the Jag?" James asked.
"It was a piece of crap. It was in the repair shop once a week. Candy traded it in for a Bimmer," Clive said.
"Dad told you Jaguar's were crap," Matt said from the back seat.
"I believed him, but Candy had her heart set on the Jag, and nothing I said could convince her otherwise," Clive replied.
"So this is /your/car, then?" James asked.
"Is it /that/obvious?" Clive replied sarcastically.
It was nearly midnight local time when they reached the Granger house. The three Americans went to sleep almost immediately, with the help of a sleeping potion James had brought with him from home.
The next morning Hermione crept into the room Harry and Matt were sleeping in, intending to give them both a rude awakening. She held a smoke alarm to Matt's ear, and just as she prepared to hit the 'test' button, Matt grabbed her wrist, causing her to scream in surprise.
"Two things you should know. One, I'm a light sleeper lately, and two, I have much better hearing than you," he said as he released her wrist. "Oh, and the floorboard in front of the door is squeaky."
He gave a very cat-like yawn and stretched languorously. "So, what's on the itinerary today?" he asked, shaking his shoulder length reddish blonde hair out of his face.
"Well, today we're meeting the Weasleys in Diagon Alley to shop for school supplies," Hermione said. "So get up and get dressed. It's nearly nine o'clock and we're supposed to meet them before lunch.
An hour later Harry and Matt were dressed and ready to go. "Please tell me you're not wearing that out in public," Candace Granger said the minute Matt walked into the kitchen. He was wearing one of his black 'muscle shirts,' faded blue jeans with large holes in the knees, and a denim vest that had once been a jacket until Matt had cut the sleeves off.
"Yeah, so?" Matt replied; apparently unaware of how stupid everyone thought he looked.
Candace Granger just shook her head and said, "At least leave the vest behind today."
"All right, Aunt Candy," Matt said.
"How many times do Ihave to tell you not to call me that? The only people allowed to call me that are your mother and my husband," she said wearily.
Yes, Aunt Candace," Matt said. He went back up to the room he was staying in, and in a few minutes came down sans vest, wearing abetter fitting t-shirt instead of his 'muscle shirt.'
"That's...better," she said in a tone making it obvious she would prefer he wore a different pair of trousers.
The trip to the Leaky Cauldron was uneventful, and luckily no one recognized James once they got there.
They sat around for about half an hour before the fireplace erupted in emerald flames the height of a man, and seven people--one man, one woman, four boys and one girl, all with red hair--spilled out one at a time. The girl, upon seeing Harry and Matt, ducked behind her mother. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Hey look, Harry, you've got your first hanger-on," Matt laughed.
"Hardly. She hasn't shut up about you since I got back from Hogwarts, Matt," Ron said as he joined them at their table. Matt turned pale.
Ron managed to keep astraight face for about ten seconds before he lost it. "Just kidding, mate. It's Harry she's been fawning over. A real life celebrity and all that."
"If she's fawning over me because I'm the so-called--what's that term the tabloids use? Boy-Who-Lived, isn't it?" James nodded. "Anyway, as I was saying, if she's fawning over me because I'm the so-called Boy-Who-Lived, then I definitely don't want it. I'd prefer to be worshiped for my own achievements, like my Quidditch skills, or my striking good looks." Matt just laughed at him.
"Speaking of tabloids," Ron said, "did you hear that there was an American kid that registered as an animagus this summer? I heard that it was someone our age. Imagine that, the youngest person ever to achieve an animagus transformation. I didn't believe it at first considering that The Quibbler was the first to print the story, but the Prophet reported the same thing acouple of days later, so I'm not sure if it's real or not. What do you think about it?"
Matt and Harry exchanged asurprised look. "I'm surprised," Matt said.
"Surprised about what?The fact that the person is our age, or they're the youngest ever?"
"That the British media even picked up on that. You'd think that they'd be afraid to tell the blood-purity obsessed public that not only was the youngest ever Animagus an American, but also a muggleborn." Harry said.
"The reports didn't say anything about the kid's heritage, though." Ron protested. "So how would you know about that?"
Matt was perfectly still for a few seconds. Then they heard it. From somewhere nearby a low, inhuman growl was emanating. Ron looked around for the source, but didn't see anything. He looked at Matt and started to ask him if he heard anything, and realized he was the source of the sound. His eyes widened as his eyebrows ran for the cover of his hairline. "Y-y-you!?" Ron half asked, half shouted.
Matt nodded.
"What form?" Ron asked quietly.
"First you've got to promise not to tell," Matt said. When Ron took a magical oath not to tell anybody, Matt murmured, "Cougar," and that was it. Ron apparently knew him well enough not to push, as he let it go.
After lunch, the group went to Gringotts. They each went their separate ways to their vaults, then met back up in the lobby. They split up, James, Mr. Weasley, and Clive going to a very crowded Flourish and Blott's get books, and the rest stuck together to get the rest of the necessary supplies. Having heard Ron complain about being poor on multiple occasions the previous year, Matt and Harry had withdrawn extra money from their vaults, and throughout the day they found various excuses to pay for the supplies Mrs. Weasley was purchasing.
When she confronted them about it, Matt shrugged and said, "You know what they say, you can't take it with you."
"But what would your parents say, knowing you wasted your mon--" she started to say but was interrupted.
"With all due respect, ma'am, they wouldn't call this a waste. They'd be proud of me for doing the right thing. I think they'd be ashamed of me if I didn't at least try to help the less fortunate--no offense," Matt said, staring at his shoes. He really had to work hard to keep from making eye contact in a place as crowded as Diagon Alley.
Realizing she was getting nowhere with Matt, Mrs. Weasley turned to Harry. "Surely your dad would want you to spend wisely--" she was interrupted again, this time by the arrival of the men.
"--riously, James, Ican pay you back for the books!" Mr. Weasley was pleading.
"I already told you what you could do with your money," James said, sounding slightly irritated.
Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing--his own dad refusing to help someone in need!
"What's going on here?" Molly asked as the men came into view.
"It's not what it sounds like," Clive said as they started back towards the Leaky Cauldron.
"Oh, really?" Harry asked bitterly. "It sure/sounds/ like my father's being a miserly idiot."
"That's not it at all," James said. "I paid for all the books, and--"
"He refuses to let me pay for the books for my children," Mr. Weasley said, just this side of bitter. "Acting like my money's not good enough," he muttered.
"Arthur, consider it arepayment for the guidance you gave me after my family was killed by Death Eaters. You helped me through a bad time in my life, and this is how I choose to thank you," James said.
"I-I," Mr. Weasley began, "er, uh, thanks."
------
The next two weeks passed quickly. On the night before they left for Hogwarts, James received a note carried by Cardinal Fang, Sirius's owl. He called Harry, Hermione, and Matt to the room he was staying in. "Remember how I told you about the prophecies pertaining the Gray Lord?" they nodded. "Well, Sirius just sent me a letter with the contents of the prophecies." He handed them the sheet of parchment with the prophecies written on it.
They took it and went to the room Matt and Harry were staying in. There were four prophecies written on it, the most of which, the one about the Darkness, was made in 1921.
The first one, reputedly made by Nostradamus, was simple, but gave them no real information, except that the Gray Lord would not be from wherever the Darkness rose.
The Darkness will envelope the Great Isle
And hope will seem lost
When from across the sea
The Gray Lord shall rise
And gather about himself
The Forces of Twilight
The next one was about the Darkness. Just like the Nostradamus prophecy, there was no useful information contained with in it.
The Darkness comes
Old hatreds become new
Old wounds are reopened
Old evils return
Old heroes fall
And if The Darkness is not stopped
The world will burn for a thousand years
The third one was about the Gray Lord, and Hermione found it particularly interesting.
Possessed of uncommon ability
Branded as Nemesis
The reluctant general will assume
The mantle of Lord
And all those opposed to the Darkness
Shall follow him into battle
"See there, the second line?" Hermione asked after she finished reading the third prophecy.
"Not sure what you mean," Matt grunted. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry touch his forehead.
"No way!" Harry gasped.
"You told me once that you asked your parents why Voldemort wanted to kill you as a baby," Hermione said. "You said that they told you that they said a prophecy was made about the one who would defeat Voldemort. You said that the prophecy included the phrase 'He will mark him as his equal.' It might mean that he will stop at nothing to ki-eliminate you, making you his nemesis."
"You might be right. I hope to god you're wrong, though," Harry said. Hermione and Matt nodded their agreement.
The last prophecy, made only days after Nostradamus made the first one, was about the Forces of Twilight./]
[/
The Darkness will rise
And with it the Gray Lord
But he will not be alone
For around his banner
The Forces of Twilight shall rally.
The Reader, His enforcer, confidant, and advisor;
The Scholar, His light and His conscience;
The Seer, His guide through the mists of the future;
The White Witch, His first convert, she will bring more;
The Traitor, His strategist, he will betray his master;
The Jester, His most versatile companion, he will be underestimated by all
"Interesting," Hermione muttered. "This all but settles it, Harry. You're the Gray Lord. Or rather will be. The Reader is obviously Matt, and I'm obviously the Scholar, but I'm not sure what it means about 'His light and His conscience,'" Hermione said.
"It's ametaphor," Matt said, making yet another connection.
"A metaphor? For what?" Hermione asked.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, so let's leave it at that," Matt mumbled, making it obvious that was determined not to answer the question.
"Let's see... the Seer is obviously Luna," Hermione said. "What puzzles me is the last three. The White Witch, the Traitor, and the Jester."
"We'll just have to wait and find out," Harry said.
They stayed up a little bit longer before going to bed, but none of them slept very much that night.
The morning was less hectic than the year previous, allowing the group to reach Platform 9 3/4 with an hour to spare. The trio found acompartment near the middle of the train, facing away from the platform and settled in. Ten minutes before the train was scheduled to leave, the door opened on the compartment now containing Luna Lovegood and Ron Weasley in addition to Harry, Matt, and Hermione.
"Is there room in this compartment?" a shy female's voice said.
Harry said,"Sure."
Matt looked up, careful not to make eye contact, as Harry said this. The source of the voice was a pale girl with pale blond hair. After watching her with her trunk for a few seconds, Matt, who was closest, stood and helped her to get it stowed away in the overhead rack.
As everyone sat back down the girl introduced herself as Lucy, saying that she was glad that she didn't have to sit with her big brother and his friends.
"My name is Harry Potter, these are my best friends, Matt Robertson and Hermione Granger," he indicated first Matt, then Hermione, "that's Luna Lovegood," he indicated the girl now hidden behind a copy of /The Quibbler/--the one that reported about Matt registering as an animagus, even if it didn't mention him by name--"and that's Ron Weasley," Harry pointed at the boy absentmindedly stroking a new white rat named Pinky that Matt had bought for him two weeks ago.
The girl turned to Matt and said, "Are you the same Matt Robertson my brother's always complaining about?"
"That depends. Who's your big brother?" Matt asked.
"I am," afamiliar, if unwelcome voice issued from the still open compartment door. Draco Malfoy sneered at all the inhabitants of the compartment before turning to the girl and saying, "Come, Lucilla. Father told me to keep an eye on you, make sure you don't end up sitting with the riff-raff," he shook his head "I leave you alone while I go to the loo, and you wander off to sit with this filth, " he gave everyone another sneer. "I managed to get a seat reserved for you in a compartment near my own, so get your stuff and come with me."
Lucy stayed put. "I'm not going anywhere. Father doesn't care about me, all he cares about is whether or not I embarrass him," she said.
Draco made a grab for her wrist, but before his hand had closed even half the distance, Matt had his pale wrist in a vice-like grip--one much stronger than it was in January. "You heard the girl, Tinkerbell," Matt said, realizing as he said it that Stay-Puft and Michelin were not flanking the boy. "Now I suggest you leave before I have to hurt you," Draco's pale face showed plainly that Matt was already doing so. Matt gave Draco's wrist an extra hard squeeze before releasing it. "And don't even think about going for your wand," Matt added as Draco's hand twitched towards his pocket.
"I'm not leaving without my sister," Draco said defiantly.
"She's not going if she doesn't want to, Tinkerbell."
Matt half turned to look at Lucy, "Do you--I told you not to do that, Tinkerbell," Matt said as he grabbed Draco's arm and twisted until he heard a pop followed immediately by ascream. "Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, do you want to go with him, Lucy?" Matt said, still holding Draco's wrist.
"No, I don't. If I wanted to sit with you, Draco, I wouldn't have snuck off," Lucy sneered at him.
"There you have it, Tinkerbell, the lady does not want to go with you," Matt popped the shoulder back into joint, eliciting another scream, "so fuck off!" As Draco staggered out of the compartment, Matt shut the door.
"So you're a Malfoy, huh?" Harry said to Lucy, making it a question.
"Yes, Lucilla Porcia Malfoy, at your service--Lucy for short. So," Her voice became a scared whisper, "are you gonna kick me out of the compartment now?"
"Why would we do that?" Hermione asked.
"Because I'm aMalfoy?" Lucy asked weakly.
"Matt, do your thing," Harry said.
"What's he mean by that" Lucy started to ask Matt, though the last word was choked out amidst a gasp of surprise. Matt, too, drew in a surprised breath. Her soul was nearly as flawless as her skin, marred only by sadness from being ignored. But that was not what surprised him. He experienced the sensation of his own soul being laid bare before this girl's deep blue eyes, but what really surprised him was that he was able to see his own soul as well, and the two slotted together like a puzzle, then the vision disappeared like clouds parting after a rainstorm. /That was weird/, he thought to himself, as he stared at his shoes, picking at the frayed edges of the holes in the knees of his blue jeans
"Did you say something?" Lucy asked Matt.
"No," Matt grunted, looking up at her.
"I could have sworn Iheard something," Lucy said, her lips not moving.
"Did you just say something?" Matt asked carefully.
Lucy frowned, "No, why?"
/Can you hear this?/Matt thought.
"Yes," Lucy said out loud. Her jaw dropped. His lips didn't move! Matt heard in his head.
Neither did yours just now, Matt countered in his head.
"What's going on?" Hermione asked.
"Somehow, I've ended up sharing a mind with Malfoy's eleven year old sister, I think," Matt said softly.
"I'll have you know that today's my twelfth birthday," Lucy said.
"Well, happy birthday. I hope you like the present I got you!" Matt exclaimed bitterly
"Hate it. You /did/keep the receipt, right?" Lucy shot back sarcastically, and Matt couldn't help but grin.
"If you're done with your witty repartee, Matt, perhaps you could tell us what you think about her?" Hermione said.
Matt described everything he saw in great detail. The rest seemed to accept her at this, though Hermione had a thoughtful look on her face.
"How did you see that, and why did I see the same thing?" Lucy asked impatiently.
"I saw it because I'm a soul reader. I don't know why you saw it," Matt muttered.
"A what?" Lucilla asked.
"A soul reader. I can look into a person's eyes and see their soul," Matt said. "It's a very rare ability."
"How come I've never heard of it?" Lucilla asked.
"It has never shown up in a pureblood. Your father, being ablood-purist, would be loath to even admit it's existence, much less teach about it--especially since there's an exceedingly small chance of you ever actually meeting one." Harry said.
As the train hurtled through the English countryside on it's way to the Scottish highlands and Hogwarts, the Gryffindor second years got to know Lucy, and Lucy got to know them. Several times during the afternoon Matt caught Lucy staring at him--though Lucy caught him staring at her just as often. Other than that, the train ride was quite boring.
------
"Malfoy, Lucilla," The stern woman--Professor McGonagall, the big man had called her--said.
Lucy nervously stepped up to the rickety stool. She put on the hat, and it stopped just shy of her shoulders. She jerked when she heard the voice in her head say, "Ah, another Malfoy, but not just any Malfoy. I sense cunning, yes, but where is the ambition? No, you aren't cut out for Slytherin. What have we here? You're already bonded to your soul mate? Very rare for one so young. Ah, that explains it." The hat paused, seemingly waiting for her to ask what it meant.
She took the bait. "What explains it?"
"The soul reader. He's the one. But we need to get back to the business at hand. Let's see, good mind, just not good enough for Ravenclaw. Definitely not suited for Hufflepuff. But courage and valor, definitely got plenty of that. Good thing too, because it was only ever going to be...GRYFFINDOR!"/]
As she walked over to the Gryffindor table she pondered what the Hat had meant when it said 'The soul reader. He's the one.' She only vaguely noticed that the entire Slytherin table was booing and hissing, while Gryffindor was making no noise at all.
------
Meanwhile, Matt, who had quickly figured out how to deaden his end of the link--or whatever it was called--managed to catch the whole conversation without sending his thoughts. Of course! he thought, mentally kicking himself for not seeing it earlier. [/The puzzle piece thing--two parts of one whole. I guess the shtick about married couples being joined into one being isn't just a metaphor, after all. He shook his head.
By the time Lucy sat down across from him, his thoughts were drowned out amidst the drone of Lucy's thoughts. Your thoughts are distracting me, Lucy, Matt thought in her direction, lowering his shields just long enough to send the thought.
It's not like I can control it! Lucy snapped in her mind. In response Matt tried to send the memories of how he blocked his mind off, using a process similar to how he blocked his soul reading ability. He spent the rest of the sorting, all of the meal, and the beginning of Dumbledore's speech helping her figure it out. It wasn't until Harry did a spit-take with his pumpkin juice that Matt looked up noticing the world around him again.
"What happened?" Matt asked.
"In case you didn't hear, Dumbledore hired Gilderoy Lockhart as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Harry said.
"He's a bit of afairy, but if even half the books are true, then he can't be all that bad of a teacher," Matt commented.
"He's also a self important windbag who's willing to put his face on anything and everything," Ron added.
"Sooo...that makes him the magical version of Gene Simmons, then?" Matt added.
Harry thought about this for a second. "Basically," he said.
As everyone was filing out of the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall came up behind Matt, Harry, and Hermione. "I'd like to see you in my office, Mr. Robertson," she said before walking off. Matt looked at Harry, who shrugged and then he trudged off after the head of Gryffindor House.
Upon reaching her office, Matt was ushered in. He never felt comfortable in a teacher's office--though Professor McGonagall's office was undoubtedly more welcoming than Professor Snape's.
"I recently received aletter from the U.S.D.M.C.--" she began before Matt interrupted her.
"The what?" Matt asked.
"The United States Department of Magical Concerns, Mr. Robertson," she clarified. "They regulate the magical world on U.S. soil. My point is that they sent a letter to Hogwarts informing the school of your recent achievement. Congratulations are in order, as well as twenty points for Gryffindor. If I may ask though, how did you do it? You've only had a year's worth of Transfiguration training, and meditation takes months, sometimes years, to achieve the transformation, and it still requires multiple years of Transfiguration training."
"I just, kinda, merged my magic with my beast and forced it outward ma'am," Matt mumbled.
"You do know that the ability to enact the first change 'by force of will' as that method is often referred to, is--was--nothing more than theory, right?" The transfiguration professor said.
"No, I didn't ma'am," Matt said.
"It did not say anything about the form in the letter. If I may ask, can I see it?" The professor asked.
Instead of answering, Matt closed is eyes and seemed to melt into the shape of a very large mountain lion. From the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail he was almost nine feet long.
"Impressive," Professor McGonagall said, writing notes on a piece of parchment as Matt paced around the small office. Jotting down the distinctive markings, I guess Matt thought. Matt screamed once then returned to human form.
"So what were the distinctive markings, Professor? I've never seen them myself," Matt asked.
"Just a slightly rusty tinge to the head and neck, and the eyes. That's a distinctive enough shade in humans, much less in wild animals." The professor smiled before continuing, "Maybe the grace afforded by your animal form will help you with your wandwork."
"Yeah," Matt grunted as he left, "maybe."
I wonder what the password is, Matt thought as he approached the Fat Lady.
/Walden/, came the response in his head.
How long have I been broadcasting? Matt asked to the voice of Lucy in his head.
You haven't. That's the first time I heard you since dinner, the girl responded.
You still up? Matt asked.
No, I was asleep until you started babbling in my head, was the exhausted reply.
Sleep well, your gonna have one hell of a day tomorrow, Matt said as he reached the dorm he shared with the other Gryffindor second years. He stayed up long enough to change into his pajamas and brush his teeth before collapsing into bed.
It had been a long day.
------
A/N: It's done. I didn't think I'd get this done so quickly, but after getting stuck at the end of the Diagon Alley scene; I took a break to write the four prophecies whereupon inspiration struck. Overall, it's a pretty weak chapter, in my opinion, but it contains quite a bit of important story related information.
Questions? Comments?Plotholes? Just leave a review, and I'll get back to you.
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