Chapter Text
May 29th, 1993 - Infirmary, Hogwarts Castle, Scotland
The staff expected Holly Pandora Potter to be exhausted, sleeping and recovering from her ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets, conversations with Dumbledore and freeing Dobby from Lucius Malfoy. Instead she found herself thinking some very deep and introspective thoughts after the midnight hour. Two showdowns with Voldemort in a year’s time was far too often to remain complacent, even if encounter one was a shade possessing a professor and encounter two was a memory from a cursed book.
Dumbledore had admitted he thought Voldemort wasn’t entirely dead, or would be able to return some day. And Tom had certainly seemed particularly interested in Holly, so she was rather convinced that it would keep happening until he was dead for good. Or at least until Tom forgot about her. Holly’s eyes traveled to the pulled curtain behind which Gilderoy Lockhart lay, unaware of his past and possibly unaware that Madam Pomfrey would have him taken to St. Mungo’s tomorrow.
Lockhart had tried to do the same to Ron and herself, so Holly didn’t feel particularly bad about what had happened to the author, especially after he admitted to having removed the memories of the real witches and wizards who had performed all the heroic acts from his books. ‘It isn’t even the best way you could use a spell like that.’ The twelve year old Holly thought to herself. ‘I mean, if you were evil you could commit any number of crimes in front of witnesses and just remove their memories. Even if you’re not particularly bad it would have to be useful, especially against bad people. Ha! I’d love to make the Dursleys forget about me. Forget about magic too, for that matter.’ Sure, Lockhart had been after fame more than seeking to use his abilities to his best advantage, but there had to be some interesting applications. Especially if you had flexible morals.
Eyes wandering to the curtains that blocked her view of Hermione and the other petrified students, Holly thought about one of her other realizations from the past three weeks while her friend and roommate had been… Holly had enjoyed reading before she got to Hogwarts, even for schoolwork or research. In the month before her first year Holly had perused her new class books and even tried copying wand movements from her Charms book with a pencil, as Hagrid had been pretty clear she wasn’t to be waving her wand about until she had some training. But then she had come to school and was befriended by Ron who hadn’t been much for either reading or studying, wanting to do nearly anything else. The girls on the Gryffindor team weren’t really bookish either while Parvati and Lavender had made it pretty clear by their treatment of Hermione that being too studious would be a sure path to alienation.
Then, once Ron and Holly had befriended Hermione that Halloween night, reading and studying was already Hermione’s thing and Holly just let her have it. Sure, Holly might read at night in her bed by Lumos, but not to the extent that she might once have done with borrowed books from the school library; squinting as the dim light from the hallway filtered through the slats in her cupboard door. What else was there to do when you weren’t allowed toys and Petunia or Vernon wanted you ‘out of sight’, stuffed into that…
Shaking her head, Holly pondered to herself again. ‘Ron and Hermione are my best mates, but maybe they aren’t the best examples of who I want to be, so maybe they shouldn’t be examples of how I should act, either. There’s probably a sweet spot in between that I could find. I know I want to be the opposite of Dudley or Draco, well, maybe not Draco. He’s an absolute prat, but he is very tidy and put together and I don’t want to be a slob. Is there something like that about Dudley too? Well, he loves his Mum and Dad, which I guess… Snape is a horror, but he supposedly makes some of the best potions around. Ron loves his family and friends and will stand up for them immediately, even if he did look at me funny for a few days after he learned I could talk to snakes. Hermione is smart and doesn’t let peer pressure change her, even if she’s a bit too convinced that the professors can do no wrong. '
Thinking about who she wanted to be, Holly pondered for a while, imagining herself as a difficult to picture, yet formidable woman. ‘I should start reading more again. Not all the time, maybe, but I miss it some. I mean, I’ve got Dad’s cloak, I could probably get any number of interesting books from the restricted section. Well, unless they yell at me like that one did, or are cursed… On the other hand, maybe not.’
Abruptly there was a great snoring sound from behind Lockhart’s curtain, which Holly had thought to be sound dampening, followed by silence. Holly supposed that if they were sound dampening, Madam Pomfrey might not know if there was an issue. The sound Lockhart made did not seem to trigger a visit from the infirmary matron, however, which put into Holly’s head that she might have the opportunity to take a walk about, if she was inclined.
Holly quickly became inclined when she had another thought. ‘If Lockhart had had his way, Ron and I wouldn’t have any memories, Ginny would be dead and teenage Tom Riddle would be free to cause another war and Hagrid would probably rot away in that wizard prison. But he hadn’t, had he? I wonder if he has any books in his office or rooms that he didn’t write? Something useful, maybe something about those Memory Charms he claimed to be so good with.’
Holly had done detentions with the man so she knew exactly where his office was. First Holly looked over at Ginny's sleeping form and watched her as she slid out of the bed. Putting her worn book bag over her shoulder she pulled out and donned her Invisibility Cloak, closed the curtains around her bed and slipped out of the infirmary, pausing in the hall for a minute. When there was no hew and cry (Holly had been ready to slip back into the infirmary loo and pretend she had accidentally gone through the wrong door if needed) she slipped through the corridors of the castle towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, office and professor’s apartments.
Holly paused once when a pair of prefects on patrol passed through the same corridor she was traveling. Once a week staying up late for Astronomy was bad enough, being prefect sounded perfectly annoying. Well, Hermione would probably get picked from the girls in their year anyhow; Lavender, Parvati and Sally-Anne didn’t really seem the type, while Sally-Anne was a smidge more studious than the first two, she only got in slightly less trouble than the Weasley twins.
On reaching Lockhart’s office Holly tried the door and was barely surprised to find it unlocked, seeing as she and Ron had interrupted him in the middle of packing. A sconce on the wall was illuminating the space with magical flame. A quick scan and search showed that there was a hint of chaos from Lockhart’s interrupted packing. The man’s paintings, awards and decorations were in various states of being packed. While it looked as if Lockhart’s luggage was enchanted to hold more than a Hogwarts’ trunk, the brief covetous thought of taking the sizable fine leather suitcase was quashed by the thought that such a theft would obviously be noticed. The observation that the only books she saw amongst the contents were Lockhart’s own first edition signed copies set Holly to looking elsewhere.
What kind of an ego did someone require to sign his own copies of his books? That was ‘Pretty Obvious’.
The door to Lockhart’s private rooms did seem to be locked but the basic Unlocking Charm, the one Holly had learned last year, popped it open directly. The apartment seemed less chaotic than what was in the office, tasteful decorations and furniture appointed the sleeping and sitting areas. The walls lacked Lockhart’s portraits and photographs, perhaps already among the items in and around the luggage in the office. Fancy outfits remained hanging in the wardrobe though there were signs that the garments from the dresser drawers had been rummaged through. Parchment, quills and inks sat at the ready for use at a small writing desk which looked to have been made in a previous century. Everywhere Holly looked she saw the trappings of a man who had carefully crafted his surroundings in support of his image; the image of an attractive, erudite, adventuresome, heroic author of the people. Everything fit that image, everything except for the messenger bag beside the desk, tucked against the wall as if it were intended to be overlooked.
While made of a leather that Holly didn’t recognize, the largely camel colored bag looked as if it had seen far better days. Scuffed, scraped, nicked and stained, the messenger bag looked like something that Petunia would have acquired for Holly from a charity shop if she had actually equipped her niece for secondary, rather than Holly buying her own supplies for Hogwarts. One of the buckles on the strap was even bent. At first Holly couldn’t imagine why Gilderoy Lockhart, of all people, would keep such a bit of tat near him.
‘Unless it happens to be heavily enchanted.’ Holly thought as she recalled her essay on the Mending Charm for Professor Flitwick the previous year, enchanted items were notoriously difficult to repair with the simple charm. Dumbledore, Flitwick or McGonagall probably would have managed it, but given Lockhart’s lackluster performance throughout the year, Holly doubted that the fraud could have pulled it off. Holly lifted the bag to the top of the writing desk and opened the flap that covered the main part of the bag.
It was immediately obvious that some level of expanded space was involved as Holly looked into the opening and saw what she might have mistaken for a toy miniaturized bookcase if she hadn’t immediately recognized the matching covers for the Standard Book of Spells series, all seven books in a row. Reaching in, Holly ran her fingers across the books and smiled when they felt full sized to her touch. Pulling a random book from the top shelf, Holly was bemused to discover that Gilderoy Lockhart and Vernon Dursley both owned copies of How to Win Friends and Influence People. Of course Holly was uncertain if her uncle had ever opened the copy that she’d had to dust every Monday since she had turned six; once it had fallen open and she’d seen that he had received it as a gift from his Mum on his graduation from Smeltings.
Of course, reading the book later in the summer would cause Holly to realize that neither adult had taken the effort to put into practice any of the instructions within, even if they had read them.
Returning the book to the bag, Holly started to close the flap when she noticed a small brass plaque with an inscription on it; ‘Proprietà di Giovanni Visconte’. ‘Well, if Lockhart stole it from some Italian wizard, I’ve got zero reason to leave it behind.’ Holly thought, not even bothering to check the smaller pockets before sliding the bag under her cloak and the strap over her head on the other side from the bag she was already carrying.
Holly had nicked quite a few things over the years, often things that wouldn’t be missed, but occasionally taking greater risks for food when the Dursleys had punished ‘misbehaviors’ or ‘freakishness’ by denying her even the small portions that she usually received. She’d avoided the reputation of hoodlum as she’d never been caught because she was very careful. The packet of plastic barrettes she lifted from the pharmacy, while Petunia had been yelling at the cashier, had kept her hair over her scar for years and her Aunt never questioned them. As the one doing laundry for the last few years Holly was easily able to hide her stolen underthings, she still remembered the shame she had felt when a girl at school had barged into her occupied loo and seen her wearing Dudley’s hand-me-down briefs. No, Holly’s conscience was clear at taking those necessities, and would be clear after taking this bag and portable library.
Another poke around the room and the WC left Holly briefly interested in some of the man’s haircare products, wondering if it could help control her riotous dark red curls. With a shrug she left them and everything else, thinking to herself. ‘ It isn’t like I don’t have money, after all. And I just came here looking for his book on Memory Charms, so best to quit while I’m ahead.’
Slipping back into the infirmary after her adventure, Holly was pleased to note that the entire place was just as still and quiet as it had been earlier. With a bit of wrangling she was able to slip the acquired messenger bag into her own after removing its previous contents and moving them into the one with the bookcase. Laying back down Holly removed her very round glasses and sighed as the blurry edges of the room became truly indistinct. ‘Eyes like my mother. Riiiight, she wasn’t the one with horrible vision according to Hagrid. Whatever, time for sleep and I can go through the books tomorrow night.’ Running her thumb over the thin scar remaining from the basilisk bite, Holly drifted off to sleep.
May 30th, 1993 - Deputy Headmistress’ Office, Hogwarts Castle, Scotland
Holly shrugged and continued to stare at the bridge of Professor McGonagall’s glasses as the older witch pursed her lips. “A shrug will not suffice. I must repeat, Miss Potter, why did you not come to me when you and your friends had your suspicions about the basilisk and the Chamber?”
“Lockhart was closer and Ginny might have been dying, Professor.” The sullen sound of her own voice annoyed Holly.
“Buffoon though the man is, he is officially still a professor.” McGonagall’s voice was steely.
“And if any of the other professors attack me, I won’t be calling them ‘professor’ either, Ma’am.” The conflicted feelings Holly was feeling left her finding it difficult to be civil with her Head of House. Tight lips were what Holly found herself looking at after her statement.
“Miss Potter…” McGonagall’s voice trailed off as she paused and took a moment to move her eyes over one of her younger Gryffindors, expression softening slightly. “Holly, why… Pardon me, Miss…” McGonagall’s voice trailed off as she focused on the second year student. “Miss Potter, why are you treating me as an enemy rather than an ally? I truly do wish what's best for you.”
Again Holly directed her gaze at the bridge of her Head of House’s glasses rather than her eyes. Seconds ticked by as Holly considered how to respond to a woman who had won, at the minimum she imagined, her parents' allegiances. And didn’t that just sting. “Could you look my parents in the eyes and claim you had treated me well? fairly?” And it was too late to pull it back, somehow the questions, the accusations, had slipped past her lips.
Nearly twenty seconds passed in silence and Holly stood, without permission, and walked to the door. “What did I do wrong, childe?” McGonagall’s words stilled Holly’s movement.
Hand on the door, Holly stared directly at the grain of the wood by her fingers. “We warned you about the threat to the Philosopher’s Stone. You sent us away saying it was safe but didn’t tell us you would do anything. You docked Hermione, Neville and I fifty points each for our first infraction of being out after curfew, plus a detention in the Forbidden Forest. Seamus got his points waved for a first infraction and most only get ten points docked, twenty if there is mischief involved. Our housemates hated us for months. Quite a few still have a grudge against Hermione and Neville even if they gained dozens more points in classes than they lost. I might have been forgiven for quidditch wins, but this year half the castle still thought I was evil for something I couldn’t control and nobody but Ron and Hermione said anything against it.” Holly would not cry, but she already knew she’d said far, far too much to get away easily now.
“Sit back down, Miss Potter.” McGonagall sounded very tired, but not ready to snap at her like Petunia would have, there was weariness in her voice and not anger. Once Holly had sat, shoulders slumped, the older witch spoke again. “In that moment last year, you and your friends reminded me far too much of your Father and his friends.”
“Pardon?” Holly tried not to wince at yet another question escaping her mouth.
“James, your father, and his closest friends were similar to the Weasley twins when it came to rules, but even more so. I punished on instinct as if you carried their actions already on your record. It was unfair to you. Surely you are not your parents… I know that, but in…” McGonagall paused, folded her hands on her desk and looked at them for a few seconds. “I cannot undo what I did, this is a different year as far as points go, and I can hardly undo a detention served, but I apologize to you. I will tender an apology to Miss Granger, Mister Longbottom and Mister Malfoy as well. As for the Stone, I should have listened more closely to your concerns, however vilification of Professor Snape is common enough, and refuted easily enough, that I did not listen closely to the remainder of your concerns.”
“Fine, we were wrong about Snape…”
“Professor Snape, Miss Potter.”
Holly easily hid a full scowl, but could not keep all of the twisting off of her lips. “Professor Snape.” ‘The man’s still a git though.’ Holly thought. “Whatever, you didn’t listen last year.” The unspoken ‘why would you listen this year?’ hung in the air. Whatever was going on behind McGonagall’s eyes didn’t show on the woman’s face.
“I admit that I often have far too much to do in a day and might not be as… available or receptive as perhaps I should be to my lions, including yourself. I will endeavor to resolve that before the next school year. For now, will you allow me an opportunity to earn your trust?” Behind the grim look on her Professor’s face, Holly wondered if she was seeing real regret. Too bad she had been burned by too many adults in her life to trust that.
With another shrug, Holly responded simply, and with no emotion in her voice. “Okay.”
As if hearing the rejection in Holly’s voice, McGonagall’s shoulders drooped slightly. “Well, in the interest of repairing that trust, is there anything I can do for you now? Any questions or concerns that you might currently have?”
Holly knew she wasn’t supposed to ask questions, but something small, something school related to get McGonagall off her back, maybe. “What are the electives useful for? I mean, I get what Muggle Studies is, of course. And I know what Maths are for, but what’s Arithmancy used for?”
The slight firming of McGonagall’s mouth caused Holly to wonder briefly if she was going to be told to look it up in the library. “Let me give you a quick personal appraisal of the elective offerings, as well as titles of books you can review in the library to see if any seem particularly interesting to you. Now, Arithmancy utilizes Maths for the purposes of determining probabilities as well as…” The next ten minutes were illuminating about the potential for each of the electives that were available.
‘Perhaps.’ Holly thought. ‘I simply need to be careful about who I ask questions of.'
June 3rd, 1993 - Gryffindor Dorms, Hogwarts Castle, Scotland
Holly felt slightly bad about hiding her new books and ‘bookbag’ from Hermione, but she knew there would be no end of questions, and possibly even demands or accusations from the bookworm. Holly had long ago learned that Hermione’s privileged life made her less morally flexible than she was; though for some reason stealing from Snape’s supplies to make a potion was fine, but talking about swiping an apple from a Tesco was horrible. Whatever. After Holly had escaped McGonagall and looked in the library for some of the books her professor had suggested about elective subjects she planned to go through the 'bookbag'. However that evening the petrified students had been restored to health and mobility. The happy event had led to celebrations and parties that went until curfew.
What with the hubbub and the joy of having Hermione back, though her friend was rather devastated that there weren’t going to be end of year exams, Holly barely had a chance to look at any of the books in the bookbag until the next night. Even staying awake late with the curtains of her bed closed after lights out it took Holly four days to make an inventory of the books in the bookbag and she still hadn’t found a book on the subject that she wanted. There were lots of interesting things, of course, but nothing about Memory Charms. Holly’s careful inventory had led to a curious discovery and her current situation, seated with two identical copies of the Oxford Thesaurus of English in front of her while she had an open copy of Glamours and Their Counters in her lap.
With intense focus, Holly had spent quite a bit of time moving her wand and barely whispering ‘Revilio’ repeatedly before the magic felt right, her wand emitting glittery light and the book on the left no longer looking as it had moments before. The former Oxford Thesaurus of English now had a black cover with no writing, covered in golden embossed decorations that reminded Holly of the fancy bible one priest had held when he had come to the Dursley’s door looking for alms.
The poor man hadn’t taken Holly’s hint of a head shake to move along, so got a tirade from her Uncle.
The newly revealed book was nearly a foot tall and several inches thick, the weight of it felt substantial as she pulled it into her lap and set the book about illusions to the side. On opening the front cover it was obvious to Holly that this book was in a different class when compared to any other book she had ever held, the patterns of the embossed cover worked onto the inside cover in clean gold lines. Turning the first page the parchment felt smooth under Holly’s fingers, as if it would repel liquids and oils, however nothing more was revealed until she turned the second page and discovered the title written in dark ink with a halo of gold around the letters.
Magics of the Mind
By
H. M. Hypok