Bag of Depravity
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Professor Potter: Chapter 21
🕑 Added 2025-03-26 05:39:22 +0000 UTCChapter 21
Who You Are
“What are we doing Albus?” James asked. “You were already being vague, and hew he’s here.”
“We’re going to look inside of my head,” Harry said quietly.
“For what?” James asked.
“Harry here is in possession of some very valuable memories,” Dumbledore said. “Things that could greatly assist our abilities in the war if studied properly.”
James frowned. “Things even you don’t know?”
“Things I could have no way of knowing,” Dumbledore said. “You’ll see.”
The headmaster uncorked a vial with his bony fingers, emptying a copy of Harry’s memory into his Pensieve. As the memories swirled around the basin, he spread his hands looking at Harry and James.
“After you,” he said.
It was a tight squeeze to get all three of their faces into the Pensieve, but it worked nonetheless. The first thing they heard was a crowd cheering.
James twisted around taking stock of their surroundings, but failed to see past the high hedges on every side. A little bit in front of them was an ornate pedestal with a large, bowl-shaped golden trophy balanced on top of it.
“This is the Triwizard Tournament,” James said. “The third task. We’re watching when Neville—”
He didn’t get any further. Two boys had stumbled into sight, and it wasn’t Neville Longbottom walking beside Cedric Diggory.
The boys were in robes of the same style, just different sizes and colors. Cedric Diggory’s were yellow and singed in multiple places after an ugly encounter with some Blast-Ended Skrewts. Little Harry’s robes were red, and his were cut up and covered in loose green leaves. James couldn’t pull his eyes away.
Harry and Cedric tentatively approached the trophy. When they got there, they both looked at each other.
“You take it!” they said.
“I can’t, Harry,” Cedric said. “I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t stunned Krum. Without your tip about the first task, I probably would have ended up as a dragon’s snack.”
“You paid me back for that during the second task,” Harry said. “I’m not even supposed to be in this tournament. You’re the real Hogwarts Champion.”
“We both are,” Cedric said firmly. “Together?”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
“No,” James said as they reached for the cup together. “That’s not how it went. That’s not who was there!”
He stumbled toward the image of Harry, but before he could get close the scene disappeared.
There was a flash of dark, disorienting color. The trio traveled as if they’d used a Portkey, only without any of the awful sensations. The hedges and the roaring crowd was gone, replaced by a bleak cemetery and the morose cries of unseen birds.
“There are two, My Lord,” said a hunched figure next to one of the gravestones. “What should I do?”
“Kill the spare,” a voice rasped back.
Harry wanted to shut his eyes, but he didn’t. He watched the killing curse strike Cedric and the Hufflepuff drop dead. His past self was just as helpless, able to do nothing but watch. Although he didn’t mean to, and Harry wasn’t sure he noticed himself do it, James let out a tiny relieved breath when the curse missed this unknown version of his son.
As Peter captured little Harry, preparing the ritual, James turned back to Dumbledore.
“Albus,” he said. “What is this?”
He sounded tired. Dumbledore said, “It’s a memory.”
“This didn’t happen.”
“For us it might not have. But for someone here, it certainly did.”
Harry had gone quiet, watching his past self squirm against the tombstone he was restrained to. He saw Pettigrew’s curse cut open his arm, the blood dripping into the dark cauldron that had been seared into his memories. At some point, he became aware of James watching him, but all he could do was observe Voldermort’s return.
“Any differences yet?” Harry asked.
“From Neville’s account? No, none,” Dumbledore said. “It’s the same to an almost frightening degree.
Harry nodded.
“Are you saying that’s you?” James asked. “Are you saying this is real? This is something that actually happened?”
“That’s right,” Harry said.
“You… What are you?” James asked.
Voldemort rose from the cauldron— hairless, nose-less, but strong and healthy. Powerful. Horrible. He summoned his Death Eaters, and soon they were appearing around him, re-swearing their loyalty, all while little Harry fought fruitlessly against the ropes binding him.
“I’m Harry Potter,” said Harry. “Son of James and Lily Potter… And I was the Boy Who Lived.”
James didn’t rage at him. He didn’t scream, or cuss, or even deny it. He just asked a simple question. “How?”
“I can show you,” said Harry.
O-O-O
“We’re skipping ahead by a lot,” Harry said. “Some of the things you see may be confusing, but don’t worry too much about that. You’ll understand the gist of it.”
Dumbledore and James both nodded. James’s face was unreadable, while Dumbledore wore a relaxed smile. They were back in Dumbledore’s office, having exited the Pensieve so that Harry could add a new memory into the bowl. Harry tapped his wand to his temple, drew out the desired scene, and deposited it into the Pensieve. This time, when the three of them immersed themselves, they were in the depths of the Ministry. The Department of Mysteries to be exact.
They watched Harry emerge from the elevator shaft, disabling dark wizards as he went. Dumbledore applauded quietly after some of his more advanced spellwork, which made him blush. James just watched.
Harry fought his way into the inner chamber, engaging Nott in conversation. Harry didn’t pay too much attention. He already remembered their words in great detail. Dumbledore, however, made no move to hide his eager curiosity as he listened to Harry and Nott debate the workings of a post-Voldemort wizarding world.
“That’s Theodore Nott?” James asked. “The fifth year?”
“That’s how you would know him,” Harry confirmed.
“And when he’s talking about a Muggleborn Minister…”
“Hermione Granger.”
James blinked, then shook his head. Harry understood. It was disorienting for him too, acclimating to the many ways he and Neville were the same yet different. The friends they surrounded themselves with definitely fell into the ‘same’ category.
When Nott willingly hurled himself into the vortex Dumbledore released a heavy sigh.
“The man made his own choice, Albus,” James said.
“He certainly did,’ Dumbledore agreed. “But it’s never pleasant to watch one’s student go down the wrong path.”
“You heard the way he was talking. You saw the look in his eyes. He was beyond help.”
“Perhaps. But then, perhaps if he had a teacher better than I…”
James didn’t argue any more. Harry understood what each of them were saying, but couldn’t decide who he agreed with more.
As the situation spiraled out of control, the Veil destabilizing, James grew tense.
“You should’ve stopped them right away,” he said.
Harry groaned. “I was overconfident, I know. I thought I had the situation under control.”
Attempting to talk things out was a habit he did his best to keep. It didn’t always work, and every once in a while it blew up in his face (like it did here). But other times, he’d been able to end conflicts with nothing but words. To Harry, that made the failed attempts worth it.
Because the Pensieve was reliant on Harry’s personal memories, there was an abrupt jump as they moved into the new timeline. They saw Avery Snr. pointing his wand at Harry, the rest of the dark wizards from the attack lying scattered around the room.
“Ah! That’s where they came from!” James said suddenly.
He was pointing at the wizards who made the trip with Harry.
“What about them?” Harry asked.
“It was a whole mess for the Ministry. Ten wizards appeared in one of the most protected rooms, except none of them knew how they got there or anything about themselves. They’d clearly been memory charmed—”
The Harry in the memory had finished subduing the Unspeakables and turned to his fellow time travelers. His wand flashed as he destroyed the men’s memories of anything and everything that could prove valuable in the past.
“Memory charms, huh?” Harry scratched the back of his head. “Imagine that.”
“Ruthless,” James said. “Good choice.”
Despite himself, a brief warmth spread through Harry as he received a compliment from his father. It was the first one since he arrived in this timeline… which meant it was the first one ever.
Something was slightly off, though. Even with Nott dead, the math didn’t quite add up.
“You said ten men were captured?” Harry asked. “But there are eleven here.”
James counted again.
“You didn’t get rid of any of them?” he asked.
“Not unless you count Nott.”
“Did you bring one with you?”
“It was hard enough escaping the Ministry on my own, let alone dragging someone else along.”
“But there were only ten.” James had his fingers pressed to his chin. “I read the report three times! I wouldn’t have missed another wizard…”
The Pensieve offered them no answers. Harry fled the room, and they were pulled along with him. As they worked their way through the Ministry, James began glancing between the two Harrys.
“That coat is going to give you away,” he said. “You should get rid of it.”
“I’ll be alright,” Harry said.
“Amelia Bones takes her work seriously. She won’t overlook a detail like that.”
“It’s not about that,” Harry said, “it’s about this coat. It’s got some pretty powerful charms on it.”
“It doesn’t look like it does,” James said skeptically.
“That’s why they work so well.”
There were defensive enchantments that would theoretically stop a spell or two depending on how powerful they were. George Weasley helped him with those. More enchantments made it almost impossible for anyone to recognize his jacket. People around him would see it when they looked, but once he was gone, it was difficult to recall what it actually looked like. Finally, Hermione helped him with some nifty cooling and warming charms. They alternated, helping Harry keep insulated or cool off depending on the weather. He was quite lucky. If he had a choice of any of his things to bring with him into an unfamiliar place, he’d have picked this very jacket. It had been through a lot with him.
Dumbledore suddenly clapped.
“I think we’ve seen the important bits now, don’t you?”
He peered at James, who went conspicuously silent.
“Yeah,” James finally said. ‘Yeah… I’ve seen enough.”
The three of them exited the Pensieve right before Harry leaped into the elevator shaft. They all sat up back in Dumbledore’s office, pulling their heads out of the foggy liquid. The pause that followed was noticeably heavy.
The tension was instantly cut in half when Dumbledore released a great yawn.
The headmaster stuck his hands high above his head, stretching and smacking his lips.
“The older I get, the earlier I turn in,” he said. “Tonight has been utterly fascinating. I find myself exhausted now, however, and seeing as I’ll need to be up in time for breakfast tomorrow morning, I ought to retire. Harry, would you mind seeing James off for me?”
“Sure, I can do that,” Harry said.
“Wonderful!” Dumbledore rose. “It was a pleasure, gentlemen. Goodnight to you both.”
The headmaster left cheerfully, whistling as he went.
The atmosphere in the office became awkward again the moment the door closed. James grunted, pushing himself to his feet. He approached the fireplace, and good to his word Harry went too.
He thought the man might just leave. But after sticking his hand into the jar of Floo powder, James stopped before throwing it into the flames.
“I… never met my son,” he said. “Not properly, I mean. He— He never got the chance to grow up. All that’s left is my memory of him. Babbling, laughing, crying.”
“What a coincidence,” Harry said. “I never met my father. I’ve seen pictures, heard stories… But it’s not the same, is it?”
James turned to him. They both looked so similar. Unless someone was looking at their eyes, their haircuts, or the scar on Harry’s forehead, the two could’ve passed for twins.
“My son died fourteen years ago in the hands of my wife. You are not him,” James said. “However… I think I wouldn’t mind getting to know how you are.”
Harry nodded, biting the inside of his lips to keep from letting out a tear.
“Right,” he said. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’d like that too.”
They raised their arms, but neither of them quite knew what for. Harry leaned forward for a hug, then backed out and tried to do a handshake. They both turned their torsos side to side, reaching out and pulling back as they tried to get onto the same page. Finally, James gave his shoulder a firm pat, turning to the fireplace. He left through a green flash of flames.
Harry was distracted by a bright spark behind him. Fawkes had been sound asleep on his perch, but now he found the phoenix looking at him. The fiery bird let out a soft, choppy trill that sounded suspiciously like laughing.
“Shut it,” Harry said. “You came from an egg. I bet you don’t know you’re dad either.”
Fawkes stock his wings out, moving them around jerkily. A lot like Harry and James did as they said their goodbye. Harry groaned loudly as he used his wand to extinguish the fire. He just lost an argument to a creature that couldn’t speak. Lovely.
Try as he might though, he couldn’t keep a smile off of his face. He wasn’t sure what kind of relationship he and James were working toward, but it was clearly a better one than whatever they had before. The man knew the truth now and he didn’t think Harry was crazy. That was more progress than Harry had even been hoping for.
“Night, Fawkes,” Harry told the phoenix on his way out of the office.
Fawkes trilled a long beautiful note, this one devoid of anything ironic. Harry’s smile became a grin as he descended the stairs, traversing the castle back to his room. When he got there, his grin only got larger.
Someone was waiting outside the door, looking furtively down the hall in either direction. Despite appearing to be on guard, she looked the wrong way at the wrong times, so she didn't even notice Harry until he was right in front of her.
“There aren’t many stars to look at down here,” Harry said.
Sinistra jumped. The loose robes she wore slipped down off one of her shoulders. Harry’s eyes were instantly drawn to the dark cleavage that was revealed. He spotted no straps for a bra.
“I know that!” Sinistra said. “My mother is always telling me I’ll hurt my back if I spend so much time looking up through telescopes. I decided to take a break.”
“Mhm.” Harry reached out, squeezing her bare shoulder. As his fingers dug into her skin, Sinistra moaned quietly. “And how are you planning to fill this free time?”
“I thought I’d get a massage,” Sinistra said. “If you’re interested, that is.”
She grabbed the other side of her robes, sliding them down on purpose. Now that he could see the matching shoulder, Harry was certain— there was nothing underneath her outfit.
“I think I’ll give it a shot,” Harry said.
As Harry unlocked the door, Sinistra leaned in to kiss him, almost her whole dark chest visible. The two of them slipped inside his room, locking the door in their wake.
