Harry Evans: Memoirs of a well-lived Death (SI)

Being invisible was an interesting phenomenon, just walking past people, not being noticed. It was freeing in a sense. He walked amongst the students and remained unseen. In fact, he'd had this spell mastered for almost half a year now and he just couldn't get enough of the privacy it offered. Considering also the criminal potential the spell offered, it was actually sort of impressive he had managed to remain a virtuous saint throughout all this time. It was only now, in May, shortly before the exams, that he planned to use the spell to help commit his first criminal act. If one disregarded his theft of the Occlumency books from the library, his likely illegal stalking of Professor Twix to the forest's edge and his assault on the Slytherin first-year clowns who'd been trying and failing miserably to harass him.

A twitch of his finger and a piece of parchment came flying out of a passing student's bag, stealing what literally amounted to a piece of paper. Crazy ballsy move there. Another twitch and it was a quill. One last twitch and it was an ink-well. The crime obviously hadn't been easy enough to describe in two sentences, but it could perhaps be left out how Harry had had to stalk several different students for five minutes minimum to get what he wanted. But now he had what he needed, floating behind him on his way to the owlery. The utensils to write a letter. Idle twitches of his fingers, telekinesis seemingly fine-tuned by his practice with a wand, made the quill dip itself in ink.

Dear Headmaster, Harry started, before changing direction. It would be better to refer to the man by first name since it would make it less likely that a student would be suspected. After all, students were so used to addressing Dumbledore as headmaster that it was the instinctual reaction even when writing a supposedly anonymous letter.

Albus,

I have borrowed the sorting hat. I will return it before next year's sorting.

Harry considered the ending and if he should add an acronym of someone else's name to keep people off his scent. Eventually, he decided to simply end the letter with,

Best,

JP

A random assortment of letters that might be the acronym for someone's name. A necessary evil, to whomever the initials might end up being tied to, Harry mused. Only one session with the sorting hat made it abundantly clear that he had to keep it for as long as possible after all. In one hour he'd progressed more than he had in the past five years. He was actually capable of determining when his mind was being breached. The easiest step, considering how practised he was in clearing his mind at this point. Actually throwing out the intruder, or even grasping the attack in any meaningful manner, meanwhile, was a challenge. Which was good, because a challenge meant that one actually knew what one was attempting. A privilege Harry had been spared for some time now.

"A year, maximum, is how long I need," Harry mused. "Just need to stay undiscovered for that long," he told himself. He was willing to practise every evening if need be. His grades could suffer for all he cared. He was running on borrowed time here, because even if he wasn't discovered as the thief of the hat, who knew if Harry would be able to get it back after he returned it for the next sorting. He would have liked to keep it, but the hat seemed attached to its role as the sorting hat, and an unwilling Mind Arts practice partner was perhaps just as useless, if not more, than none.

Harry attached the letter to the leg of an unsuspecting tawny owl once he'd reached the owlery, and watched satisfied, as his message flew off. The carrier having been surprisingly unbothered to be woken up and sent on an errand. If only everyone was so agreeable all of the time, he thought before turning around and going towards the great hall. It was time for dinner and he was hungry. Thankfully he'd already sent the letter to Aunt Petunia, asking if Penny could join them for their trip to France and he could spend some time at her place this summer. Considering how immature his aunt could sometimes be she might just reply with a, 'Harry and Penny sitting on a tree…' He stepped into a broom cupboard to drop his invisibility and stepped out again. It was ridiculous how many broom-cupboards Hogwarts actually had when one thought about the fact that magical means of cleaning didn't really necessitate a broom. It seemed more likely that the broom cupboards were provided by the castle as a reaction to the emotional need of teenagers to snog somewhere secluded.

As if summoned by the thought a voice suddenly spoke behind him. "Wotcher Harry," Tonks said and scared the shit out of him. Calming his beating heart Harry turned around and gave the girl the stink eye. He'd gotten completely unused to people sneaking up behind him since he'd started going around invisible.

Once he'd gotten over his scare he looked closer at the girl with whom he'd started walking towards the great hall. Slightly puffy and red around the eyes. 'Teenagers,' he thought, but considering how usually girls covered up such things with make-up and Tonks being a witch and a metamorph probably had even more options, the event that had caused her to cry was pretty recent. However, this deduction was fairly useless. She'd cried, so what. He hadn't really talked to her much recently, busy with Potions, spells and now Mind Arts. She also hadn't quite forgiven him for his prank on the train. It was, however, too late for her to be crying about something family-related. Owls usually came during the morning. She was in her OWL year, so she might be stressed due to exams.

"Everything alright?" he asked the taller, pink-haired girl. His type, unfortunately.

Tonks snorted. "What? Worried about lil ol me?" she replied and bumped his torso with her hip before laughing. "I'm doing great, better than ever, the world just isn't ready for me."

"Is that why you've been crying, the world not being ready for you?" Harry asked, causing Tonks to shoot him a glare.

"Mind your own business, twerp, you'll see how you'll feel in your OWL year," she grumbled, causing Harry to blink at the apparent cause.

Absentmindedly jumping over a halberd that a suit of armour had dropped on the floor he considered the original time-line. His OWL year was going to be Neville Longbottom's third year. Which would have meant dementors, maybe, had Sirius Black not been a free man. "Well, I always thought I'd feel pretty depressed during that year."

"You're so bloody weird." Tonks snorted, "If you have to know, Twix told me I didn't have it in me to become an Auror, who knows if it's true considering she got dragged out in chains, but it's been bothering me," she said.

Harry blinked slowly. "What authority did Twix have again for telling people if they were cut out to be an Auror?" he asked.

"Very little, she was a curse-breaker for the ministry or something, so she only collaborated with the department, or so I'd heard anyway." Tonks sniffed. "But you're right, I shouldn't care about what the woman said."

"Yeah, fuck her," Harry muttered thinking about the pain the woman had made him go through. He got an odd look for his language. "I'm sure you'll be a great Auror when you actually get the chance to learn how to be one, you just have to give your best to get the opportunity and then bite down on it when you get it."

"Thanks, Harry. Good luck on your exams," Tonks said as she patted him on the back, before veering off to join some older Hufflepuffs at the large table. They'd reached the great hall.

Harry veered off to sit with Cedric and some other boys, noticing that Penny wasn't present.

Loading his plate with some caramelised carrots, potatoes and salad he turned to the others, who'd been talking about the upcoming transfiguration exam. McGonagall had thrown the class for a loop recently by introducing a new form of transfiguration, metal to organic, just to test them. It seemed easy to Harry, but his classmates were now worried that it might appear on the test.

"I wouldn't worry about the metal to organic transfiguration being on the exam, it's not actually a part of the curriculum. Also, it's so comparatively difficult that practising iron to organic would give less for your time than wood to iron, for example. You could probably show it off for extra points though, I think she might just be showing off what one would need to get an O+ to be honest," Harry commented, easily cutting into his classmates' chatter.

"Bugger O+," one of the boys groaned. "I'll be happy with an EE."

"I might actually try for it," Cedric said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "It's kind of cool anyway. Do you have time to help me get it down after dinner Harry?" he asked, to the outrage of a few other boys.

"You promised we'd go to the shed and borrow some brooms to play a game," one of them, John said. A muggle-born who'd fallen a bit too in love with Quidditch.

"Sorry guys, it's just exams, I don't want to disappoint my dad. Maybe we can do it in the week after exams?" Cedric asked hopefully to the grumbling of the others while Harry considered the request. He had been almost exclusively hanging out with Penny recently, not with Cedric. Mostly because the boy was interested in flying and Penny in academics. Since he shared the latter's interest it made sense that he'd hang out with her more. As for helping Cedric practice… Harry didn't know how long he had before someone discovered the hat and took it away from him.

Technically he needed to squeeze out every bit of practice that he could out of the thing. But his head still hurt from his last attempt, and he hadn't done anything with Cedric in a while, so Harry decided to give himself a break.

"Sure, we can go to some abandoned classroom and transfigure some needles into apples, but have you seen Penny?" he asked.

"Weren't the two of you supposed to be working on some Potions in that room of yours?" Cedric asked.

Harry shook his head. "We've run out of ingredients until after the Potions exams, but she's probably there if she got her hands on some extra ones. Let's check by on our way to practise," Harry said and turned his attention back to his food while Cedric nodded and turned to his. They were both interrupted from eating however, as this was the moment that Dumbledore stood up at the staff table in the back of the hall, at which he was not often present and began tapping his goblet with a knife to gain everyone's attention.

"Thank you," he began, throwing a sweeping gaze over the gathered student body. "I just wanted to say a few words before the exam period," he said and coughed, clearing his throat. "You will leave this castle with much, and I hope you bring it back next year, unharmed," Dumbledore sat down again, apparently done with his speech.

"What was that supposed to mean?" Cedric muttered as the rest of the hall started whispering, trying to decipher the apparent nonsense their headmaster had just told them. Only Harry had likely understood the message.

Something precious was the hat, and he was supposed to bring it back next year unharmed. Did that mean that the staff wasn't going to search for the thing? Even if so, it would be foolish of Harry to take any unneeded risks from a sense of false security. He shook his head and stood up, having only half-finished his plate, but not having the appetite to go on.

"Come on," he said, looking to make sure Cedric was done eating. He was. "Let's go get Penny and get you that O+."

They strode out of the great hall, passing a group of oddly triumphant Slytherin first years, Montague amongst them, who laughed at them and made stupid faces as they passed.

Harry was sorely tempted to throw an explosion spell at them but knew doing so would be a bad idea from several fronts. Firstly because all the teachers would see him do it, secondly because he hadn't practised the spell before and would likely blow himself up. He started walking faster, Cedric having to jog to keep up with him.

"What's their problem, I swear, Slytherins," Cedric complained as they broke out into a run towards the room Harry and Penny had been making potions in.

"I don't know, but I don't have a good feeling about this," Harry said through some harsh breaths as they ran through the last bend, finally arriving at the abandoned classroom. The door was ajar and acrid smoke was billowing out of the room. "Cedric, go get Sprout, Slughorn, Pomfrey, anyone, in that order!" Harry sharply ordered, grasped Cedric by the hem of his robes and swung him physically back into the direction of the great hall.

"What Ha-?" the confused and now slightly scared boy began to ask before Harry interrupted him with another push.

"Just go!" he shouted and raised his hands, not bothering to go for his wand. Whipping his hands rapidly, cursing himself that he hadn't bothered much with using telekinesis on gaseous objects, he slowly gathered the smoke and expelled it towards the far end of the corridor leading to a mostly uninhabited wing of the castle. Gathering some moisture into the collar of his robes he covered his mouth with the now wet cloth and ran into the room. He'd managed to expel just enough of the smoke to be able to see but still had to cough his way to the still form lying on the ground in front of the cauldron spewing the crap. Cursing his lack of upper body strength he fumbled for his wand and cast a silent levicorpus on what must have been Penny, going by the cascade of light hair covering the head as the body rose, unresponsive. Wand in his right hand to upkeep the spell, he used his left arm to grasp roughly at the unmoving girl and dragged her through the air and out of the door. He didn't stop until he'd left the classroom very much behind and gently laid down Penny on the floor.

He noticed, with the slow fading of his most recent memories of getting to the classroom and what exactly had occurred within it, what had happened. He was still thankfully cognizant enough to notice that while Penny wasn't moving, she was not doing so in a very stiff fashion. Unnatural. He gently parted the blonde hair from her face and stared into bright blue eyes absolutely filled with terror and not a hint of recognition. He put up his fragile Occlumency shields and looked back, reminding himself once again that the room had been filled with the gaseous form of the forgetfulness potion.

"Don't worry, I'm a friend," Harry said gently as he stroked the girl's cheek, glad to see the eyes lose some of the terror. "I'll undo the hex now, ok, just don't move too much, the professors are on the way," he said reassuringly before casting a finite at the girl, easily breaking the likely petrification hex that had been inflicted on her.

Penny spasmed as she regained freedom of movement, "Where am I?" Was the first thing she asked. "Who are you?" Was the second. Harry closed his eyes sadly and used all his mental energy to prevent the most recent events from slipping from his mind.

"You had a bit of an accident with a forgetfulness potion, you're at Hogwarts and a professor will soon be there to help," Harry said and sighed, while a cold anger started building inside of him. An anger he hadn't felt in a long time, even for Twix.

"You have very red hair," Penny commented with a goofy smile, seemingly not bothered by lying on the floor.

"And you're very blonde," Harry said back, "I guess that makes us strawberry and vanilla."

"What happened here!" a sharp voice interrupted their get-to-know session as Professor Sprout and Professor Quirrel lightly jogged onto the scene, Sprout's rotund body shape likely not allowing anything more.

Harry put a calming hand on Penny's shoulder and looked up to fully face the two members of staff. "Someone sabotaged Penny's potion practice. She was working on the forgetfulness potion. There were a lot of fumes and she was hit with a petrificus totalus, I've since removed it. I assume she was under the influence for about 15 minutes before I dragged her out because that's when the prime suspects entered the great hall. She has forgotten, at minimum, that she is at Hogwarts, seeing as she doesn't remember me and we're in the same house," Harry quickly rattled off in a no-nonsense tone as Sprout carefully levitated Penny with some encouraging words and began going towards the infirmary. Harry ended up having given his report mostly to Quirrel, who listened attentively while frowning.

"15 minutes of fumes, we'd have to ask Slughorn what that really means. Thankfully the potion is not designed to be permanent," the man said before sharply nodding. "Follow to the hospital wing, Evans," the man ordered and hurried up to catch up with Sprout, who was already descending a moving flight of stairs that seemed more willing than usual to allow passage. Harry found it odd that the man knew his last name but went with him, sticking close to Penny. "I imagine I wouldn't know the suspects you reported," Quirrell commented as they hurried to the hospital wing. "I teach an elective only available from the 3rd year onwards," he explained.

"The usual, I'm sure you know of at least several such groups. Slytherins with more pride than cunning and more stupidity than ambition," Harry remarked, gaining a sharp look from the professor. "Although considering you teach muggle studies, I imagine you have less to do with them than usual, professor," he amended the reasoning.

Quirrell, surprisingly for someone who was supposed to give up his body to Voldemort within the year, chuckled. "I know the type, but I'm afraid there won't be much to do. While the forgetfulness potion leaves no lasting consequences, short-term effects can be permanent if dosed incorrectly."

"Isn't there any investigative spell-work that could be used to retract footprints, sniff out a scent or reveal fingerprints on the door-knob?" Harry asked, for a variety of reasons.

"A valid question, Mr. Evans. However, none of these things hold up very well as evidence because what magic can reveal it can also disguise. For every charm meant to reveal a crime, there is a curse to conceal it, just like there is a shield for every hex. The only real evidence used in the magical world is that of the priori incantatem," Quirrell said in a lecturing tone.

Harry glanced at Penny to make sure she was alright, relieved at the fact that she seemed mostly fine, if a bit loopy, he turned back to Quirrell. "I imagine it's a way to reveal a list of spells previously cast with a wand, quite definite as wizards are wont to part with theirs?" he asked, gaining an appreciative nod.

"Exactly, but since the cultural significance of a wand is so high, getting permission to seize one to investigate a deed that was essentially malicious, but not murderous, is a steep task. Especially if the suspect is a student," Quirrel supplied, ending the conversation. They'd arrived at the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey already waiting for them at the door, Cedric waiting next to her while wringing his hands. The healer directed Sprout to lay Penny on one of the beds and turned to Quirrel for a summary of the situation. As Quirrell knew everything that Harry did, the boy instead went over to where Sprout was gently talking to Penny.

"Harry!" the girl said, cheerily as he came to a step on the other side of her sickbed, the grey-haired professor taking the other.

"You remember my name?" Harry asked curiously, taking one of Penny's hands into his own and rubbing his thumb on its top.

"It seems to be coming back," Sprout said in a tired voice. Harry looked down at Penny's frail form and wondered for a second, what he would have done if it hadn't. Was it possible to share an almost one-year-long story with someone and then remain friends after one person had lost it? Wouldn't it be an eternal reminder of what had been lost, if the relationship never again reached the point it had been at? Harry wondered, for a second, as Pomfrey gently shoved him aside and began checking Penny's pupils, what exactly he felt for the girl.

He'd never thought he'd make friends until he was at least in his late teens, but when he'd seen her still form in the middle of the fogged-out room, his heart had stopped for a moment before reason had allowed him to move.

Harry sat down on the neighbouring bed and closed his eyes as Latin incantations resounded from the mediwitch working only two metres away.

"Is she alright?" Cedric's voice asked from next to him, nervously. Harry felt a weight settle onto the bed next to him.

"She'll be fine," Harry answered calmly. "I can't say the same for those Slytherin clowns though."

"Do you think it was them?" Cedric asked quietly, "Why would someone do something like that?"

Harry wondered for a second at the answer he wanted to give, before deciding that the truth, or at least how he saw it, would have to suffice. "Some people think they're better than others and some of them need to feel like they are. It's a form of pride. Not necessarily a bad thing, after all the first way to become better than others is to learn more, practise more, and be a good person. The issue is in the second strategy that some use, namely, instead of improving themselves, they decide to tear others down," he sighed.

"So what, someone decided to do this because Penny had better grades than them?" Cedric asked, obviously confused.

Harry closed his eyes, his friend wasn't old enough to understand these things. "I guess, essentially they were mad that someone was doing better than them at something, without sharing the trait they think should privilege one to such success. The target was never Penny though, I think at least. It was me. I've been seeing those morons try to follow me around for a while now and have just been ditching them. I never thought they'd go for someone close to me. I guess I shouldn't have expected different from the children of terrorists, to just go for collateral damage like this. Death eater trash breeds true once again."

"I would caution against using such terms," a new voice suddenly said from next to Harry, who snapped open his eyes to glare at Dumbledore, who had apparently come down to survey the situation. "It was indeed a horrible thing that has been done. But people should not be judged by their parentage or house."

"I think that while it is an evident truth that while children are the products of their environment and thus not personally responsible, the personal agency these horrible children get upon becoming adults is very seldomly taken advantage of to generate any sort of personal improvement. Thus leaving us no recourse, if we do not always want to forgive the unforgivable, but to treat horrible children doing horrible things because of their environment as horrible individuals, due to the small likelihood that they will ever be anything else," Harry bit out quickly and with a slightly slurred speech, being too angry in the given moment to have the patience for a saint pretender like the headmaster.

Dumbledore looked at Harry with sad blue eyes, with which Harry immediately broke contact, "Thus leaving us with no other option than to be the better man, because if no attempt is made, no progress shall be made."

"You'd make a great teacher, headmaster. Endless patience and a remarkable feeling of personal responsibility are very admirable traits in the educators of misguided youth," Harry said and stood up to leave without looking at the man.

"Come on Cedric, let's go get this transfiguration done. The least we can do is channel these emotions into something useful." Seeing the boy stand up from the bed out of the corner of his eyes Harry left the infirmary with one last look at a now sleeping Penny, still being attended to by Madam Pomfrey. He didn't grant Dumbledore even a look as he left the hall but nodded at Quirrell, who was standing at the entrance. The man returned his nod.

"Endless patience and a great capacity for forgiveness," Harry muttered once they'd left the infirmary behind them. "The worst possible traits a leader could ever have."

"What did you say?" Cedric asked from where he was hurrying after him.

Harry turned back and glanced at the miserable-looking boy and smiled thinly, "I said you've got a knack in transfiguration and that we'll get this done in no time."