A Promise Kept - Chapter 14 - The Games We Play

The Games We Play

Albus had expected that his subterfuge would not pass without incident or repercussions, and his thoughts were proven right when Lucius Malfoy had arrived only a day after Sirius had taught his first lessons at Hogwarts.

Flashback

The door to his office burst open, and Albus reminded himself that he needed to make additions to his security to ensure not even the governors of the school could enter the room without his express permission.

Lucius was quite apoplectic, the vein throbbing in his temple and gritted teeth leaving Albus quite satisfied that he had done the right thing in appointing Sirius as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

“What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore?” the man growled. “You cannot just hire who you wish. All appointments are subject to the approval of the governors.”

“All permanent appointments are subject to the approval of the governors,” Albus corrected. “You see, Lucius, Hogwarts quite suddenly found itself without a suitable instructor when Gilderoy Lockhart left the castle with so little warning, and I took it upon myself to temporarily appoint a replacement, under the circumstances.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes at him.

“He will never receive the full approval of the governors. I will ensure that!”

“Now, that depends on who they fear more, doesn’t it?” a cold voice sounded from the door.

Albus took no small amount of satisfaction in seeing Lucius pale at the sight of the Lord Black stalking towards him.

“You snivelling, treacherous, bootlicking, little shit!”

Before Lucius could offer a rebuttal, a loud snapping echoed throughout the office, and Lucius was sent tumbling over one of the chairs from the force of the punch that landed on his jaw.

Albus had expected Sirius to exercise at least a little composure, but he reminded himself that the man was a Black, after all, despite spending much of his youth distancing himself from his family.

Even so, although Lucius deserved much worse for all of his transgressions over the years, Albus could not be seen to be supporting such behaviour.

“I’ll have you charged for this!” Lucius seethed as he stood.

His hair was in disarray, mouth full of blood, and his fingers twitched towards his wand, though he seemingly thought better of trying to pick a fight with Sirius here of all places.

“Good, I look forward to it, but until then, piss off. Just looking at you reminds me of a weasel. You didn’t even have the balls to go to prison like the rest of them. Well, you reap what you sow, Malfoy, and I do not doubt that your future is going to be a miserable one. I will personally see to that.”

Lucius wiped away the blood that had dribbled down his chin before straightening his robes and storming from the room.

“Was that wise, Sirius?” Albus sighed.

The man shrugged.

“Maybe not, but it felt damned good. I’ve been waiting for more than ten years to do that, and he gave me the perfect opportunity.”

End Flashback

It appeared that Lucius had thought better of pursuing the matter further. Two months had passed since and Albus had heard nothing, not even a whisper of the incident.

He suspected Lucius was not willing to swallow his pride and admit openly what had happened to avoid the embarrassment of the situation.

It was for the best, and further to Albus’s relief, there had been no further issues regarding the opening of the Chamber of Secrets.

Sirius had questioned Hagrid, and had rather quietly been looking into the incidents since the students had returned in September, but he had yet to come forth and discuss his findings with Albus, which meant he’d likely found little if anything worth mentioning.

Nonetheless, the Headmaster was not convinced that it was the end of the problems.

It wasn’t like Tom to let anything lie, and given that he had a distinct advantage, as things were, Albus did not envision him stopping, though he did wonder why there had been such a delay since the last occurrence.

Patience was not the forte of his former student, so something else must be the cause behind the silence.

Regardless, Albus did not like it, and despite his own efforts, he was no closer to solving the mystery or cause behind the reopening of Slytherin’s legendary retreat.

(Break)

“You know, I might start to think you are following me if we keep meeting like this,” Sabine said amusedly as Harry entered the owlery.

They had not arranged to be here together, and Sabine Van Droombeeld certainly didn’t strike him as someone who would go out of her way to force the circumstances, and the slight flush on her cheeks told him that she was surprised to see him.

“They might, or they might believe you’re following me.”

“Now, why would I do that?”

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

“Well, I can only think of two reasons. The first being that you enjoy being around me, which is just as ridiculous as the second.”

“The second?” the girl pressed amusedly.

“That you really want your brothers to have an excuse to get their heads kicked in.”

The girl tutted as she continued fastening her letter to the leg of a fine eagle owl.

“My brothers are jackasses, but no, I don’t want them to get hurt. They seem to think they are just like my father, but none of them are, not really. Maxwell seems to think he has something to prove. That’s why he came after you.”

“Which ended badly for him.”

“It did,” Sabine agreed, “and my other brothers and sisters teased him all through the holidays for it.”

“How many siblings do you have?” Harry asked curiously.

“Too many for anyone outside of the family to keep track of, but four older sisters, nine older brothers, and one younger brother.”

“Your parents must be part rabbit.”

Sabine grimaced.

“I’d rather not think about that, but its tradition for the head of the family to have lots of children,” she said with a shrug.

“I suppose it makes sense,” Harry mused aloud. “The Blacks and Potters almost died out, so, unless Sirius gets married and have children, it will be up to me to make sure both lines continue.”

“You could always just have more than one wife.”

Harry shook his head.

“I have more than one girl who is just a friend, and that is difficult enough. How does one man keep more than one woman happy?”

Sabine laughed amusedly.

“You’d probably have to have one for the morning and one at night, or just alternate days. I have no idea, Harry, but you’d find a way.”

“Better yet, what kind of woman would want to share her husband with another.”

“You’d be surprised. Some will tolerate it for the sake of living a comfortable life, and others enjoy it. The head of the Goode family has three wives.”

“I bet he doesn’t get much rest.”

“He has twenty-three children and has only been married for ten years.”

“Well, that’s a quick way of repopulating a family,” Harry mused aloud. “Maybe I should consider it.”

“It’s not as though anyone would have much to say,” Sabine pointed out. “You are Harry Potter and could probably have ten wives and be called a hero by your own people.”

The very word hero made him distinctly uncomfortable.

Harry was not ignorant to media reports in Britain after Voldemort’s fall, had seen them throw the word ‘hero’ around quite freely, but that wasn’t what he was. James Potter was a hero, and Harry Potter was merely fortunate to have survived what his father had not.

“Sorry,” Sabine offered. “I think like most others I forget what that night did to you.”

“It’s alright,” Harry said dismissively. “To them, it was when the Dark Lord was no longer a threat to them, and they should be able to celebrate it, but to me, it is something else entirely.”

He attached his own letter to one of the school owls, which would take it to a sorting office before being sent further along the chain until it reached France.

“Writing to your girlfriend?”

“Well, one of them,” Harry replied with a grin. “Don’t be jealous, Sabine. You are far too good for the likes of me,” he added with a wink.

The girl rolled her eyes at him and shook her head, her cheeks flushing once more.

“Good luck for tomorrow. I will be cheering you on.”

“That’s probably not a good idea.”

“No, but sometimes, I quite like to live a little dangerously. I might even wear a Harry Potter jersey. That will get everyone talking.”

“You probably would too.”

Sabine hummed as she nodded.

“Maybe one day.”

Harry had never felt nervous about being on the back of a broom. Even when he’d finally been allowed to fly a complete, adult model, he’d only been excited to take to the sky, unafraid of any injury that might occur.

He remembered his first flight as though it was only yesterday; the rush of adrenaline as he climbed higher and higher, the sound of his mother’s fading voice pleading him to come back down to the ground, and how at ease he had been as he’d dived towards her and Sirius in what she had described as a ‘reckless move’.

The memory brought a smile to his lips, and yet, as he continued polishing the handle of the broom he would be using for his first match, that niggling concern was there.

Perhaps it was merely that he did not wish to make a fool of himself in front of his peers that was the cause of it, or maybe he didn’t want to let the team down. He couldn’t be certain, but there was much pressure on him to perform as well in a real game as he did in training.

Being the youngest on the team did not help matters, but he did not feel as nervous as Adams looked as he paced back and forth, his skin pale, and hair messy from where he’d been dragging his hands through it.

“It’s alright,” he murmured. “We can do this.”

Adams seemed to be talking to himself, and as he came to a halt, he released a deep breath.

“We can do this,” he repeated loudly enough that the entire team could here. “We have some brilliant fliers in this room, some great defenders, and amazing scorers. Potter, I want you all over the pitch, scoring points and disrupting goals. There’s not a single one of the Pukwudgies that can outfly you, not even close, but they have good chemistry. I need you all to wear them down, take away their passing options, and pressure them as they come forward.”

“So, what we always do in training?” Jason Chambers asked with a grin.

He was a seventh-year student, more wirily built than most of the other players, but he was strong with it.

Adams nodded.

“Exactly. Come on, its time.”

He seemed as though he might be sick, but nonetheless, he gathered his broom and led the team out towards the pitch, and Harry soon found himself in a packed stadium for the first time, anticipating playing in a Quodpot match rather than simply spectating one.

The next moments were little more than a blur as he adjusted to the occasion, but as a shrill whistle sounded, he was pulled from his thoughts, and he kicked off on his broom, immediately forgetting that thousands of people were watching him.

As ever, the adrenaline of zipping around on his broom took over, and for the first time since he’d woken that morning, he felt truly alive, that he was having fun, and that he wanted to be where he was now, intercepting Quods, throwing himself into the mix as one of the players scrambling to win the ball, and even anticipating the inevitable, physical clashes that came with it.

The first of the latter came much quicker than he anticipated, and as the much larger, seventh-year Pukwudgie hurtled towards Harry as he caught the Quod, he deftly rolled beneath his broom and used his foot to knock his opponent off course.

He crashed into three of his fellow teammates, and Harry was able to shift his focus towards the pot at the end of the field, barrelling towards it and making a successful pass to the waiting Adams, who scored the first point of the match.

He offered Harry a nod as he passed him by, and the teams lined up once more to resume play, and Harry realised just how much he was enjoying himself.

Playing during training was not the same as being here, and he finally learned why it was that his father had loved Quidditch so much. Perhaps Harry would enjoy the same sport more than he was Quodpot, but for now he was revelling in the exhilaration this brought him.

Now, he didn’t just want to get through the match in one piece, he was determined to win it.

(Break)

It had been frustrating at best attempting to investigate the incidents surrounding the Chamber of Secrets. With no further attacks thus far, there was no new evidence for Sirius to tie together with the others, and his conversation with Hagrid, although informative, had only confirmed what he already knew.

The man had not been responsible for any part of what had occurred five decades prior. Even so, learning of an enormous colony of Acromantula living in the Forbidden Forest was quite the revelation, and Sirius was only grateful he and the others had not run into them during their many adventures amongst the trees.

Perhaps they were not concerned by the presence of creatures and would certainly be wary of a werewolf.

Nonetheless, he still had nothing and proving that the Weasley twins were in possession of the map was all but impossible without catching them with it, and avoiding being caught red-handed was something the duo were exceptional at.

Sirius had done his utmost to follow them around the castle, had used the dozens of secret passageways he’d learned of during his time here, but the redheads remained elusive, almost as though they knew exactly where he was at any given moment.

There was only one thing for it now that his patience had all but evaporated.

Were it not for the dire situation they were facing, he would have perhaps found the pursuit much more fun than he was, but no, it had only grated on his nerves, and as he approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, he intended on putting an end to it tonight.

“Balderdash,” he murmured.

The guardian of Gryffindor Tower swung forward to admit him, and Sirius Black was assaulted by a myriad of his most fondest memories.

He remembered the four of them, the Marauders as they’d eventually dubbed themselves, putting their heads together at the very same table just a short distance away from the fireplace. It was there that they would discuss the potential pranking ideas, homework, and in James’s case, the then Lily Evans, whom he was determined to marry.

He remembered each of them so vividly; James, Remus, Lily, Marlene McKinnon, Alice Prince, Frank Longbottom, and the dozens of others he’d shared the room with every day for the better part of seven years.

Now, most were dead and gone or in Alice and Frank’s case, incoherent after having been tortured until their minds had broken.

Sirius swallowed deeply as he pushed those memories away and caught sight of the redheads he sought.

“Weasley and Weasley,” he called.

“Me, Professor?” Ronald asked.

Sirius shook his head, forgetting just how many of them there were here.

“No, Fred and George.”

There were some teasing noises from the other students, and the twins appeared to be nervous as they stood and made their way towards him.

“Professor, Fred and George have been here all evening,” Percy protested.

“Oh, they’re not in any trouble, not yet, at least,” Sirius answered with a grin. “Come on, my office.”

He allowed them to walk in front so that he could keep a close eye on the pair, and neither said a word, not even when they reached the office and Sirius gestured for them to each take a seat.

“Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs,” Sirius said, fighting the urge to grin as the eyes of the twins widened in recognition.

“H-how do you know those names?” one of them asked.

“They are old friends of mine,” Sirius answered, “and I believe you have something belonging to them.”

He held out his hand expectantly, and though he hesitated to do so, one of the twins placed in it an old, familiar piece of parchment he’d never expected to see again.

“Given what is happening here, I am surprised you did not come forward with this,” he sighed. “How many have you told about this?”

“None.”

“Then I see no reason to take this further, and maybe when I am done with it, I may even return it, but for now, this conversation never happened. Understood?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good, now, be on your way.”

They left without question, and Sirius tapped the parchment with the tip of his wand.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

He smiled as the map came to life in his hands, and for several moments, he stared at it, stilling suddenly as he saw two dots out of bounds at this late hour.

“What the…”

Snapping out of his stupor, Sirius Black all but sprinted from his office, wondering just why it was that Ronald Weasley was chasing Peter Pettigrew through the entrance hall of Hogwarts.

(Break)

His heart had almost stopped in his chest at the sight of Sirius Black entering the common room. More than eleven years had gone by since Peter had last seen him, and only a little less that he had gone into hiding.

He knew that Black would be looking for him, that the man would know that it had been him to betray James and Lily to the Dark Lord.

For several months, he had wondered Britain, mostly as a rat jumping onto buses and trains to put distance between himself and what he’d done.

Eventually, he’d found himself in Ottery St Catchpole with the intention of hiding near the home of the eccentric Xenophilius Lovegood where he could survive on scraps, but he’d not made it so far.

It had been a young redheaded boy that had captured Peter, who had made him his pet, and it had proven to be quite the boon.

For years he’d been passed down to another child, had even grown comfortable living with the Weasleys, and even enjoying his many years at Hogwarts, but that had all come crashing down in an instant.

Were Sirius to catch even a single glimpse of whiff of him within these walls, he would murder Peter without hesitation.

No, he needed to flee, to find somewhere that Black was not. He did not know where he would go, but Peter Pettigrew knew he could not remain at Hogwarts.

The moment the portrait opened, he sprinted towards it as quickly as his legs could carry him, and he made his way towards the entrance hall in a bid for freedom.

“SCABBERS!”

He hated that name.

Despite having been called it for longer than he cared to remember, it had never grown on him, and Peter ignored the blundering redhead as he continued running, finally feeling the cold, Scottish air rippled through his fur as he made it out of the castle and towards the gates in the distance.

When he was clear of them, he quickly and briefly turned into his human form and apparated away, catching sight of another figure in the distance as they emerged from the castle in the wake of Ron Weasley.

(Break)

“Seventeen points and six assists is unbelievable,” Maggie whispered as the final whistle sounded. “Not even my sister managed that here.”

Most of the crowd were equally stunned, and though Marisa understood very little about Quodpot, she could see that what Harry had achieved was quite the feat.

“Isn’t that a new record?” Wendell asked.

Maggie nodded.

“The old record was eleven points and two assists.”

“Well, goddamn,” Wendell snickered. “He’s better than we thought.”

Again, Marisa knew little of what constituted a good player, but Harry had flown rings around the others with apparent ease, only being intercepted once by the opposing team.

“How many interceptions did he make?” Olivia asked.

“Nine,” Maggie answered, consulting a piece of parchment she’d been using to keep a record of the stats for each players on both teams. “He made it look so easy.”

They began making their way back towards the castle, and the chatter around them was of Harry and how well he had played.

“I need to write to my sister. She will want to see him play!”

Maggie hurried off towards the owlery whilst the others entered the Great Hall for lunch where the excited talking continued.

They were around halfway through their meal when the teams joined them, and Marisa watched as Harry took a seat amongst his housemates where he was seemingly inundated with questions and praise from his peers.

Already, he’d been rather popular because of simply who he was, but now, it seemed that everyone, even students much older than him, wished to have a moment of his time.

“He’s quite something, isn’t he?”

Marisa had never spoken to Sabine Van Droombeeld and had only heard of the prominent family after what had happened between Harry and her brothers, but the way she was looking at him, she could see the girl was fond of her friend.

“He is,” she agreed, waving at Harry as he waved to her from across the hall.

(Break)

The redhead was devastated at the loss of his pet, and though Sirius sympathised with Ronald Weasley, he could not help but be disgusted and troubled by Peter’s presence in the school.

“How long has he been in your family?” he asked as he poured the boy some tea.

Ron frowned at the question.

“Bill found him when he was he was young, so, I think about ten or eleven years.”

He found it odd that the Weasleys had not considered that such a lifespan was considerably longer than any rat should be living, but having seven children, it likely did not occur to them.

Evidently, Peter had not been on the run so long before throwing his lot in with the family, which is why Sirius had seen nor heard nothing of his former friend.

Wormtail had likely remained as a rat for most of the time, which could not be good for him both mentally and physically.

“Well, I am sorry you lost your companion, Ronald. I once had an owl I was fond of when I was at school, so I know it is important to have someone other than your housemates to turn to.”

Ron nodded as he finished his tea and stood.

“I should probably go to bed,” he sighed. “I don’t want Snape or Filch catching me.”

“I’ll walk you back,” Sirius offered with a smile.

He was a rather obtuse boy at times, but being the youngest boy of seven children and having a younger sister could not be easy for him.

“I know what I saw, Lily. It was definitely him. The map does not lie.”

It was not often the woman became angry, not truly.

She could be quite hot-headed when they were younger, especially when James would push his luck with her, but not like how Sirius saw her now.

Lily Potter, having gotten over the shock of wat she’d learned was seething, and she was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace with her wand in hand.

“Bastard!” she spat. “I will find him one day, and when I do…”

She let the threat hang in the air, but Sirius did not doubt her words.

Peter was the reason she no longer had a husband; the reason Harry was growing up without his father, and why they were living here in Texas.

“And I will help you,” he promised.

Lily merely nodded in response before leaving the room, and Sirius deflated. It seemed that whenever they found a semblance of peace or normality, something came along to disrupt it, but one day, he was certain she and Harry would have peace.

How they would be remained to be seen, but he was sure it would.

He would not allow it to be any other way, and nor would Harry, whom he would have to break the news to sooner rather than later.

(Break)

Dear Gabrielle,

There are only a few months left of the school year, so hang in there. If you’d like, I will try to arrange for you and the others to visit here. I’m sure my mother won’t mind.

I think Enchanting, Runes, and Arithmancy would be great choices for you.

You are charming, at least. (I know, it is a bad joke, but you can blame my godfather for that.)

I have my first Quodpot match today. I’m nervous but also looking forward to it.

Anyway, write back soon,

Harry

She smiled as she placed the piece of parchment back in the envelope, idly wondering just how his first match had gone.

It took around three days for their letters to reach one another, so, at least a few had gone by since he’d played.

Had he been injured?

Harry was only twelve, after all, and playing against much larger students in a game that size often mattered according to Isabelle, who had written to her the previous week.

Her cousin had been worried about Harry too, but Gabrielle would have to wait to hear news of what had happened.

Even so, it was nice to receive letters from him.

As the year had gone on, it was as though her housemates were distancing themselves from her. Gabrielle had expected it given what had happened to Fleur, but it didn’t stop her feeling upset or disappointed that she was experiencing the same.

Still, she was grateful she had others.

Both Maggie and Olivia wrote to her, so, she wasn’t as lonely as her older sister, but it wasn’t quite the same as having real friends, something she knew she would likely have few of the older she got.

It had happened to Fleur by the time she’d returned for her fourth year at Beauxbatons, and Gabrielle expected much the same for herself.

(Break)

He had begun to think that Pettigrew had perhaps died, that he would not be granted an opportunity to tear the man limb from limb, and though he was furious that the rat had resurfaced after all these years, Harry was relieved more than he was angry.

“You do not seem surprised,” Sirius observed.

His godfather had arrived before breakfast and had sent for Harry to break the news.

“Are you?”

Sirius shook his head.

“No, I knew he was out there somewhere. Rats have a way of surviving when they have no right to.”

Harry nodded his agreement.

“So, what next?”

Sirius deflated.

“He will disappear again, but he can’t hide forever. I just needed to tell you.”

Harry couldn’t quite believe the man that had betrayed his parents had chosen to hide in his Animagus form for so many years.

It would’ve been smarter for Pettigrew to flee Britain, but that was not something he could be attributed with.

He’d spent his years at Hogwarts hiding behind those much brighter and stronger than him, and that had not changed when he’d thrown his lot in with the Dark Lord.

What remained a mystery to Harry was just how he’d made the acquaintance of his foe.

Not that it truly mattered.

Wormtail had made a choice to betray his friends and his parents, and for that, he would suffer greatly.

“Are you okay, Harry?” Sirius asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Fine,” he said dismissively. “It’s not as though the rat will be my biggest problem, is it?”

“No,” Sirius murmured. “Have you been practicing?”

“More than you would like,” Harry said with a grin. “Anyway, I need to eat before Charms.”

Sirius nodded and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“I hear you had a successful debut on the Quodpot pitch.”

“I did well enough.”

“I hear that you were quite spectacular. You father would be damned pleased that you inherited his talent for flying.”

Harry beamed at the praise and offered his godfather a smile.

“I’ll try to talk your mother into coming to watch. You know what she is like. She will spend the whole match not looking.”

“Didn’t she used to watch Dad?”

“She did, but there may have been a part of her that wanted to see him fall,” Sirius laughed.

“Is it odd being back at Hogwarts?”

It had certainly come as quite the surprise to Harry that Sirius had accepted the job offer. It had seemingly come out of the blue, but he was happy for him, and he seemed to be quite enjoying it.

“It is, but not in such a bad way. You know, there’s some good and bad memories there, but the faces are all different now, and those I knew have aged.”

“Just like you.”

“Well, that’s enough of that,” Sirius grumbled. “Go, get your breakfast, and do try to behave yourself.”

“You’d only be disappointed if I did,” Harry returned, embracing the man before taking his leave of the room and making his way towards the Great Hall where Olivia would be waiting for him.

Despite being unfazed be Pettigrew’s emergence and even hopeful that he would be the one to catch the rat, he could feel that anger he always carried bubbling beneath the surface, and he took a few breaths to calm himself.

“Harry?” Olivia asked as took his seat at the Wampus table.

He shook his head.

“I’m fine.”

She did not appear to believe him, and for now, Harry wasn’t sure he believed it himself, but he would be.

When he eventually caught up to the rat responsible for the death of his father and misery of his mother, he would be well.

(Break)

“This is most troubling,” Albus murmured unhappily. “If he has been within the castle for more than a decade without me knowing, there is no telling what he might have done.”

“No,” Sirius sighed. “Wormtail would do nothing without the promise of protection. He is a coward, and. Have no idea how he was ever sorted into Gryffindor.”

“Bravery comes in many forms,” Albus mused aloud, “but his presence troubles me still, Sirius. I must reconsider the protections around the castle once more.”

Sirius left the man to it, and headed towards the Great Hall for breakfast, which would either be a late or early dinner for him. He wasn’t sure which, but he was famished from the journeys he’d made, and everything else he’d been doing in between.

Already, he’d ensured that no other Animagus would be able to enter the ranch without his knowledge and subsequent consequences.

Even so, despite everything, he looked on quite eagerly as the morning post arrived, watching the redhead who had lost his pet as a rather handsome screech owl landed in front of him.

The note attached to its leg was short, and Ronald was not even certain it was for him until the bird pecked his head, eliciting a yelp from the boy.

Taking the note, he read it, and immediately, his gaze shifted towards Sirius. His expression was one of surprise, and the redhead nodded appreciatively.

The owl would serve him well for years to come, and it wasn’t a damned Death Eater in disguise sharing a dormitory with half a dozen young boys.

Sirius shook his head at the thought.

Pettigrew was a disturbed man, an evil man, but his time would come.

Such men always reaped what they sowed, and Sirius could not wait for the rat to receive what was due to him.

If it was to be him to administer, so be it; he would certainly take no small amount of joy in the suffering of his former friend, but in truth, as much as he would enjoy it, it no longer mattered who made him suffer.

Harry.

Sirius could not help but think it would be his godson who would be the one to capture Pettigrew, and if there was anyone who would make him suffer more than him, it was Harry Potter.

(Break)

“Please, take a seat, Mr Potter,” Professor Clarke offered, gesturing to one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk.

Harry placed his bag on the floor as he did so and waited whilst the woman consulted a thick stack of parchment before gracing him with a smile.

“You are here to discuss which electives you are hoping to take beginning in September. Now, for you, I expect your acceptance is already assured, but subject to change should you not achieve certain grades in subjects that may be required during the WANE exam. Understood?”

The exam was an aptitude and knowledge test to determine the suitability available career paths for witches and wizards in America.

Harry nodded and Professor Clarke took a sheet of parchment from the pile and slid it in front of him.

“Before you is the typical list of electives on offer here at Ilvermorny,” she explained. “We have Runic Studies, Arithmancy, Magizoology, Indigenous Magic, and Xylomancy, a form of Divination. Do you fancy yourself a seer, Potter?”

Harry shook his head.

“No, I can’t say that I do.”

“I didn’t think so. True seers are exceedingly rare indeed. Now, these are the topics we offer to all, but if there are any others you would like to pursue, we can make exceptions in some circumstances.”

“Well, I would like to study Runes and Arithmancy, but I was hoping for experience in magical combat and duelling.”

“You wish to become a duellist, Potter?”

“I have considered it, but I know that is the kind of magic I thrive with. I would like some formal training and qualifications if possible, and also in the Mind Arts.”

Professor Clarke quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I do not believe it will be so difficult to find you an instructor in duelling and magical combat. There are many retired Aurors and other professionals willing to tutor the next generation, and although the Mind Arts are not strictly illegal, it may be rather difficult to accommodate. Masters in the Art do not exactly advertise their ability. It is a personal journey, Potter, and at best, most will only offer assessments to ascertain your own skill at breeching defences and defending yourself. I will discuss it with Professor Fontaine, along with your other requests. He was an incredibly decorated Auror himself, after all.”

Harry nodded appreciatively.

“I think I’d maybe like to study Magizoology too, if there is space in my timetable.”

Professor Clarke made a note of it.

“You will be exceedingly busy if we can accommodate these requests,” she pointed out.

“I know, but I think it will be worth it,” Harry replied with a smile.

Professor Clarke shook her head amusedly.

“You are doing well, Harry, and I still have considerable expectations of you in my own classes, as does both Professors Day and Goode. You have impressed them both, but do not expect anything to get any easier. I will be pushing you harder next year, as will they.”

“Well, it was all getting a little bit too easy,” Harry snorted sarcastically. “Thank you, Professor.”

He meant it.

He was grateful for the woman and both the Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts professors pushing him.

For a moment, he had considered requesting instruction in the Dark Arts, but truthfully, Harry didn’t feel he needed it.

With what he was learning from the Black library and his other findings, he felt as though he was doing well enough. Besides, Professor Day was rather forthcoming with any information Harry asked and was even willing to demonstrate whatever Harry requested of him.

Still, he expected the next school year would be the hardest yet, and already, Harry was relishing the challenges laid out before him.