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SIYE Time:15:42 on 29th March 2024
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That Terrifying Momentum
By Caleb Nova

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Category: Post-OotP, Alternate Universe
Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Other, Ron Weasley
Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Humor, Romance
Warnings: Disturbing Imagery, Extreme Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 24
Summary: To every action there is always opposed an equal reaction: or the mutual actions of two bodies upon each other are always equal, and directed to contrary parts. An AU sixth year.
Hitcount: Story Total: 89330; Chapter Total: 3446







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4

Integral/Extrinsi c


It was always disorienting to wake up and not be entirely sure where you were.

Scott was used to it. A moment's unease was all he suffered before his brain snapped into gear and recent events came flooding back into his consciousness.

It helped that he had awoken several times during the night, and thus his head wasn't thick with accumulated snooze. His instincts were always on a hair trigger — the slightest noise could wake him. He'd learned to sleep light the hard way, and now it was deeply ingrained. It could be customised, however. A couple of weeks would train his subconscious to tune out the sounds that were a part of the nightly backdrop at Hogwarts and allow him uninterrupted sleep in the absence of anything out of the ordinary.

It didn't take him long to brush his teeth and don his school robes. Neville was also running a little late. He had only one shoe on and was frantically flailing about with his robes tangled up on his arms and neck. Scott reached over and grabbed what he thought was the hem of the robes, tugging them downwards.

"Thanks!" Neville gasped, emerging red-faced from his cotton cocoon.

"Couldn't let you suffocate on the first day of the year," Scott said amiably.

"Don't know if I'd mind entirely…" Neville laughed nervously, straightening out his collar with hands that were not quite steady.

Scott gave him a comradely clap on the shoulder. "Some days you just gotta roll with the punches."

Neville didn't look very reassured by that. "I think I'd rather not get hit."

Scott looked down at himself before heading for the common room, wrinkling his nose at the unflattering clothing. To him it looked like he had cut a few holes into a garbage bag and pulled it over his head. He shook his head and sighed at himself. Apparently this new look was going to make him vain.

The common room was full of students readying themselves for the day ahead, a steady stream of them exiting through the portrait to walk to breakfast. Scott came down the staircase just in time to catch the tail end of an argument between Ron and Hermione centring around a 'Fanged Frisbee'. He considered the two of them thoughtfully — what was he going to do about them? He knew that if he didn't do anything, his sister would. Perhaps, then, it was better to leave it to her. Still, a few nudges in the right direction couldn't hurt.

"I hate to interrupt your sparkling wordplay," he said loudly as he stepped into the common room, "but I'm fucking hungry, and I must be fed. Kindly point me towards the nearest trough."

"That would be the Great Hall," Harry said dryly, clearly glad to have a distraction from his friends' bickering. "You remember the way?"

"I'm a man of the people," Scott said expansively. "And though I might know the way, I would much prefer to traverse this fragile earth in the company of others."

Harry turned towards Ron and Hermione. "Coming?"

They spent another minute standing around while Hermione rushed back to her dorm and checked to make sure that she hadn't left any of her textbooks behind. When she returned, they stepped out of the portal and into the halls of Hogwarts, lit by the morning sun.

"About breakfast," Scott said as they approached the doors to the Great Hall. "Do you order whatever you want or is it sort of a buffet kind of thing?"

"Almost all meals are served buffet style," Hermione explained. "With a few exceptions, such as the Yule Ball."

"I don't suppose the words 'chicken fried steak' mean anything to you?"

Hermione frowned. "No, what is that?"

Scott sighed. "It's going to be a long year."

During breakfast Scott filled his plate with a tasty assortment of bacon and eggs, observing his new classmates between mouthfuls. He saw that he was being similarly watched by Dumbledore from his seat at the teachers' table. He gave the Headmaster an acknowledging nod before turning his attention back to the food and trying to follow a conversation between Harry and Ron concerning Quidditch. Hermione didn't eat much, rigid with anticipation for the moment when McGonagall would assign their new class schedules.

When the stern professor began moving down the benches, Scott found himself glad that he didn't have the same class load as Hermione. He'd have more than enough learning to do by books alone, and that was without counting his overriding objectives that had nothing to do with school.

When it came to his turn, McGonagall shuffled through a slightly thicker folder than she had for the other students. Scott wondered just how many documents Dumbledore had forged. Of course, Scott knew as well as anybody that you could paint out an entire life in paperwork. Identification numbers, credit cards, birth certificates — all tracing the trail of a person who had never existed.

"There was some difficulty obtaining your school records," McGonagall told him as she leafed through the papers. "But fortunately the Headmaster was able to get them all together in time." She withdrew a blank schedule from the folder. "As I know you are aware, besides your normal classes you will periodically be assigned tutoring sessions."

"But whether I keep going to a teacher or not depends on how much they find out I already know, right?"

"Correct. I hope it won't be necessary for you to be tutored in more than one or two subjects extensively." She handed him a list of his available subjects. "Remember to choose the classes which interest you the most, as you will be pursuing them to N.E.W.T level."

Scott picked out his classes from the sheet, being careful to select the same as Harry without being too obvious about it. He thought McGonagall knew what he was up to anyway, but she didn't say anything. Once he was done she tapped the empty schedule with her wand, filling it. "A schedule of your extra sessions should be given to you by tomorrow," she told him. "It will be altered at the discretion of your professors."

"Thanks, Professor," Scott said, looking over the timetable she had given him. He had three free periods, which would actually translate into about two, taking into account his tutoring sessions. Some days he would probably only have one, at least until he had proven he could pass the classes without help. In order to achieve that he'd have to step up on his reading.

His first class of the day would be Defence Against the Dark Arts, following a free period. He frowned. He'd already heard some disquieting things about that class. Apparently, Snape was a potential problem. Scott's proximity to Harry and status as a Gryffindor would already make him a target for Snape, though as far as he knew the professor couldn't do anything more than be verbally vicious.

Scott spent most of the free period before his first class going over his DADA textbooks. While he usually remembered things he had read well enough, he simply hadn't read all of them yet. Harry and Ron talked Quidditch. It seemed that he was going to have to develop some sort of interest in the sport if he wanted to fit in.

They met Hermione in the hallway outside of the DADA classroom, looking frazzled and weighed down by enough books to choke a large mammal. She complained about the workload she had already been assigned in Ancient Runes, but Harry and Ron seemed unsympathetic.

Other students soon congregated around them. Scott noticed the amount of attention Harry drew to himself without any effort. Harry always seemed extremely discomfited by the scrutiny, even on the occasions when it wasn't bordering on hero worship. Some people just couldn't fit into the role of celebrity, and Harry was clearly one of them.

"Your fly open or something?" Scott murmured to the media proclaimed 'Chosen One'.

Harry looked down in confusion before realising that Scott was joking about all the focus on him. "They've been reading the Prophet," he said disgustedly. "First they hate me, now they love me. Maybe one of these days they'll wake up and start thinking for themselves."

"Unlikely. It's much easier to believe the hype."

Their discussion was halted when Snape emerged from the classroom. He was glowering at all the students, but especially at the two of them. It was Scott's first close-up look at the man and it didn't serve to make a good impression.

"Inside," the professor said shortly, and they filed in.

The interior of the classroom was clearly a reflection of Snape's personality. Scott thought a few pentagrams on the floor would have fit in nicely. The gory illustrations lining the walls looked like they had come right off the cover of some cheap horror novels. At least the shades had been drawn and the room was candlelit — the less light he had to see Snape in, the better.

The object of his inner derision finished trying to bore a hole through Harry with his eyes and turned his attention to Scott. "Scott Kharan," Snape said, caressing the syllables. "Our new student." His gaze shot to Harry for a second. "And already in the close confidences of our very own Chosen One… I suppose fame really is the most valuable commodity in America."

Harry's fists clenched on top of his desk. Hermione hissed something to Ron, who had gone pale with anger.

Scott kept his face carefully blank, but couldn't resist responding. "Don't hate the player, Professor — hate the game."

The room fell completely silent. Scott's comment hadn't been directly insulting, but Snape apparently needed no excuse to hand out punishments. From the other side of the class, Scott could feel Malfoy's hate-filled stare like the heat from an open oven.

Snape's eyes flashed, but the slight curve his lips held suggested that he was pleased to be given the opportunity to discipline his new student. "Wasting no time establishing your arrogance, I see. Twenty points from Gryffindor."

Scott nodded impassively in reply, suppressing the multitude of flippant responses that came to mind. It was not the right time for further impudence.

Scott listened to the rest of Snape's opening lecture with one ear. A girl that Scott hadn't identified yet asked something about 'Inferi', which Scott had discovered in his readings to be another word for zombies. Magically reanimated corpses were common in many magical worlds. They were less threatening than the kind of zombie that resulted from viral infection or other biological contamination.

Things became more interesting when Snape divided the class into pairs to practice non-verbal spells. He found himself working with Harry while Ron and Hermione silently squared off.

Harry raised his wand and sighed. "Even if I can do this, what's the point?"

Scott blinked. Had that been a tacit admission that there was something out of the ordinary about him? Dumbledore must have included some strong hints in his letter. "I won't stop you. Go ahead and zap me." Harry visibly strained himself at the task for a moment, lips fighting to stay shut. Scott shook his head. "You're not lifting anything, man — stop trying to give yourself a hernia and just think the words."

"Yeah? You do it, then," Harry said, looking a little put out.

"I've already got a non-verbal spell," Scott grumbled as he readied his wand. "It's got a custom hardwood grip and a smooth action." Nevertheless, he pointed his wand at Harry and tried to fire off a Jelly-Legs Jinx. Nothing happened.

Harry looked rather smug about that. "I'm still waiting."

"Huh," Scott said, looking down at the wand he held with a slight frown. He thought he was performing the spell correctly... or had he messed up? Perhaps he needed to take a different approach.

"Well?" Harry said impatiently.

Scott started to explain but in mid-sentence, Snape swept over to them, sneering at their lack of progress. "Pathetic, Potter. This is the proper method-" The man spun on Scott with practised speed, raising his wand.

The spell emerged from the magical instrument with a bright flash and sped directly towards Scott's face. There was, of course, only one thing to do.

He took the hit.

Any questions as to the purpose of the spell were answered as soon as it touched him. His legs locked together in a rigid posture and the resulting lack of balance sent him toppling over backwards. He braced himself with his arms and managed to land in a way that was awkward but significantly less painful than simply smacking straight into the floor. Palms stinging, he gingerly lowered himself until he was sitting stiff-legged on the cold stone.

The rest of the class were oddly silent during all of this. Scott had expected laughter, but it seemed that Snape's presence stifled it even when he was the instigation. Harry and Ron were both clearly furious, while Hermione looked on with a sympathetic expression. Scott wasn't sure why; he hadn't been seriously injured.

Scott looked up as Snape loomed over him. Despite already having been the subject of reprimand, he couldn't resist some token defiance. "Excellent shot, sir. You really showed me."

Snape's lip curled in a disdainful sneer. "What I have shown is your inability to perform the simplest of non-verbal spells." He turned away, walking back to his desk at the front of the classroom. "Potter, help him up, if you can..."

Harry's hand was gripping his wand so tightly that it was shaking, but despite the anger in his stance he stepped forward and cancelled the spell binding Scott.

"Hey, it's not the first time I've fallen down on the job," Scott informed Harry with a grin. He pushed himself back to his feet but was disappointed to see that his joke hadn't earned any smiles.

"Just when I think he can't be any more of a slimy git..." Harry muttered venomously, staring hard at Snape.

"He tops himself without much effort," Ron said darkly.

Hermione appeared to be uncomfortable with the level of hatred being directed towards Snape, but she kept her silence.

"A neat trick, I must admit," Scott declared, looking down at his now functional legs. "But he didn't paralyse my arms; I still could have responded before the next spell."

"He could have frozen you completely if he'd wanted," Harry said lowly.

"Really? Oh, right, like you on the train. I see." Scott frowned. "That would make things more difficult. Any counters?"

"A Shield Charm would be sufficient," Hermione told him. "Now we need to be quiet before we draw his attention again..."

"How about just getting out of the way? Would that work? Or does it have an area of effect?"

"Yes to the first, and no to the second, now hush!"

When class ended the students poured out into the hallway in a silence equal to the one that had prevailed during the lesson. Not until an invisible line present at some point further down the hall was crossed did the conversations suddenly come to life like a spontaneous fire. Scott marvelled at the control Snape exercised over his class. It was odd how he had such a dominant personality, and yet had been subservient to Voldemort and now Dumbledore. Perhaps a desire for power had led him to seek out those who seemed to offer the greatest amount of it... or was it the protection, the safety? A mystery as dark as Snape's wardrobe. Something to muse upon.

Scott's train of thought was abruptly derailed when he heard his name shouted. Turning around in response, he spotted the small form of Trevor hurtling down the hallway towards him.

"Scott!" Trevor said loudly again, despite it being clear that his first cry had sufficed. He skidded to a graceless stop and produced a crumpled letter from somewhere in his school robes. "I'm supposed to give this to you!"

"Mission accomplished," Scott said absently, opening the letter. As he had assumed, it was from Dumbledore. The Headmaster requested an immediate meeting.

Scott briefly flirted with the idea of ignoring the summons purely to make a point, but discarded the thought as being impractical. His foothold at Hogwarts was too tenuous to jeopardise it in an unnecessary demonstration of independence. Like it or not, he needed Dumbledore's help.

"Nice delivery time, kid," he thanked his excitable courier, and then turned towards Harry. "Headmaster wants to see me; something about paperwork, I don't know. Don't wait up."

Harry appeared slightly suspicious, but said, "All right, later."

The Headmaster's office was steeped in what seemed to be an almost stifling calm after the noise and bustle of the school halls between classes. The odd stone escalator carried Scott up to the antechamber without incident, though he still felt like it might give out from under him. The double doors leading to the office proper were cracked open but Scott knocked against them just to be safe.

"Hello?" he called out.

"Come in!"

Dumbledore was seated in his usual position behind his desk, although this time the paperwork strewn across it appeared to be in greater disarray. Scott wondered if the beginning of the school year was a bureaucratic nightmare. "I got your letter. I like the fancy Hogwarts letterhead it's got on it. Personal stationary?"

"The office does come with several perks," Dumbledore said humorously. "Please, have a seat."

Scott slumped into the chair. "So what's up?"

"Not one thing in particular." Dumbledore set several stacks of paper aside and leaned back, looking slightly tired. "Rather I thought it might be best to monitor your progress today. It is, after all, in both our interests for your acclimation to go as smoothly as possible."

"I'm afraid there's been a bit of turbulence. I ran into some trouble in the form of Snape; apparently he's not too thrilled to have me within this fine institution of learning, or at least his dim corner of it. I have to admit, I'm wondering why you hired a sociopath."

Dumbledore frowned. "You are of course entitled to your opinion of his personality, but while you are a student here I will ask that you treat all of your professors with the appropriate respect."

Scott didn't think much of that idea. "I didn't walk into class trying to get hexed or jinxed or whatever the crap, but it happened. If Snape keeps it up, we're going to have a problem."

"Professor Snape," Dumbledore said pointedly. "I'm aware that his conduct is sometimes-"

"Are you? Look, I'm not trying to tell you how to do your job, but it's very simple: if Snape doesn't get off my nuts, then I might have to break his. This is hard enough without him 'teaching' me."

"I see." Dumbledore's disapproval was quite pronounced. "I will be sure to talk to him, but I very much doubt that you played no part in exacerbating things."

Scott shifted a little in his chair, trying to decide how much he could minimise his part in Snape's antagonism without outright lying. "Maybe I could have handled it better. But it's not like I was asking for a fight."

Dumbledore sighed. "All that I ask is that you attempt to tolerate each other. I wish for a higher level of cooperation, but at this point I suppose I must be realistic."

Scott thought that the most realistic way to deal with Snape would be sterilisation, but he kept that to himself. "I understand."

"I assume that your interactions with the rest of the staff have been more amiable?"

Scott shrugged. "Nothing comes to mind as being an issue. Although I think McGonagall might be aware that something isn't right with me turning up."

"She has always been insightful," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "Perhaps more than me, when it comes to the things that matter most. I'm afraid there's little I can do to temper her suspicions."

"Time will, if nothing else."

"We may hope. If our arrangement should come to light, 'insane' would be one of the kinder things said about me," Dumbledore said ruefully.

"It might not count for much, but I don't think you're crazy."

Dumbledore chuckled. "An opinion insured by self-interest. Your methods may be a mystery to me, but your allegiances are not. I know your mission comes before our agreement."

"The mission comes first," Scott confirmed.

"As it should." Dumbledore became more serious. "I think it is not necessary to remind you, but Harry is more important than even this secrecy. Sacrifice it if you must, and I will assume the consequences. All I ask is that wherever you go, take Harry with you."

Scott fought to hide his surprise. Dumbledore was making some bold allowances. "If I do my job right then it won't come to that. I can't be certain at this point, but I'd be willing bet that Harry has things to do here."

"As do you," Dumbledore said, glancing up at one of the several clocks he had in the office. "I believe your next class begins soon."

"Crap." Scott stood up quickly and made for the door. "Get another note to me if there's something you need, but try not to contact me directly too often. It won't do my integration any favours to get singled out."

"Of course. We'll talk later."

"Yeah, we will," Scott muttered as he sped towards the stone escalator. Dumbledore's level of interference had been partially anticipated but was still an annoying problem. Scott needed space to work, and having the Headmaster keeping tabs on him would be limiting. With any luck the business of running the school would keep Dumbledore occupied enough to leave Scott alone.

Scott found himself ducking into Potions class within an inch of being late. He gave the professor an apologetic smile, thinking that it would have been smart to get a note from Dumbledore, but the corpulent Slughorn only waved him in without comment. He squeezed himself in between Ron and Harry, pulling a chair from an empty table behind them.

Harry looked like he was about to say something, but Professor Slughorn began talking and they fell silent to listen.

There was some to-do with Harry and Ron not having the proper class supplies, but after that was all sorted out Slughorn proceeded with the lesson. At least, Scott thought he did — he found himself wondering why it was so hot in the classroom. There was a mixture of delectable odours wafting through the air that seemed to set his skin to tingling.

While Hermione was identifying various potions for Slughorn, Scott leaned over to Harry and whispered, "You smell that?"

Harry started to answer but was diverted when Hermione correctly identified the source of the entrancing smells as Amortentia, a powerful love potion. Scott knew that no corporeal substance could create love in the abstract sense, or even in the classical sense as based on shared interaction and commonality. He figured that 'love potion' was probably a euphemism for an aphrodisiac with some unusual capabilities. He paid close attention to Slughorn's explanation of the potion's workings.

His attention was further captured by the Felix Felicis that Slughorn was offering as a prize to the best potion maker at the end of class. Despite the professor's ramblings about its power and price, Scott knew that nobody else in the room understood exactly what they were looking at. Liquid luck? If the potion did what Slughorn said it was capable of then it was something truly extraordinary. He had to get his hands on some to see how it worked and whether he could influence its effects. Normally, any objects of such import gave off a tangible sense of power. If the Felix was a shaping substance, then it was dormant in its current state. It didn't call to him from its cauldron.

However, making the best potion in the class on his first try would be a bad idea — not that he was remotely capable of pulling that off. He'd try to perform acceptably, and find a way to get his hands on the liquid luck at some later date. To his left, he noticed Harry was working off of some instructions that had been scribbled in the margins of his school loaned book. He mentally shrugged. If Harry wanted to roll the dice with unverified advice, that was his business.

"So," he said to Harry while they worked, "what does that stuff smell like to you?"

"I'm not quite sure — it's hard to pick out the main one." Harry frowned in thought. "Some sort of flowers? I'm almost sure I've smelled it before… But I can't think of where." He looked at Ron. "Maybe The Burrow?"

Ron shrugged. "We do have a garden; that might be it. Didn't think you had a thing for flowers, though."

"Oh yeah?" Harry said, annoyed. "What's it smell like for you, then?"

Ron immediately looked embarrassed. "Ah, well… Sort of warm, I guess…" he said awkwardly. "And like — books, maybe? But warm… I don't know."

"Warm books. That's the key to your heart."

"Stuff it," Ron grumbled, stirring his potion viciously.

"How about you, Scott?" Harry asked the blond boy.

"Wild flowers, strawberries — like body lotion. Warm skin, sun-warmed hair. Clean cotton." Scott stopped. "And something else."

"Something else?"

Scott grinned. "I'll tell you when you're older."

"You're not any older than us!" Ron protested. "Where do you get off, talking like my mum?"

"There are all kinds of age, Ron," Scott said sententiously. "Someday you'll understand."

"Wanker," Ron said under his breath; Harry looked inclined to agree.

"Will the three of you shut up?" Hermione snapped. She was becoming increasingly frustrated that her textbook instructions were not yielding the same excellent results as Harry's. "Some of us are trying to work!"

"And yet, Harry's potion is looking pretty good about now," Scott shot back. "Maybe you should try less?"

Hermione's face coloured, but before she could formulate a rejoinder the time was up. It came as no surprise to Scott that Harry was the clear winner. He supposed he could just steal the Felix from Harry on the way out of the room, but so much of what he was doing was based on trust that he couldn't bring himself to do it. "Sweet deal," he said to Harry as the other boy looked closely at the small vial of potion that was his reward. "Gonna take it before you proposition Ginny?"

To their right, Ron made a sound like someone had just jabbed him in the kidneys. Harry stared at Scott. "What?"

"If that shit works like Slughorn says it does then you're guaranteed some action," Scott said, deadpan. "Just take a sip and ask Ginny if she wants to play 'hide the salami'."

Ron opened his mouth and spluttered, "What the-"

"Ron!" It was Hermione, at the door of the classroom. "What are you three doing?"

The rest of the classroom had been vacated, leaving Scott, Harry and Ron still at their table. There was a flurry of activity while they packed up their things and went out into the hallway. Scott was feeling like he had scored a minor victory. In the earliest stages of manipulation, subtlety came in different forms — it was enough to bring up the concept, even if it was disguised as a joke. Harry might have been put on the spot and embarrassed by Scott's salacious ribbing but the thought was there now. He'd be considering Ginny in that light, if only for a second. The mind of a teenage male was a fertile place for that particular sort of seed.

He imagined his sister might take issue with his methods… But it didn't matter. If she thought she could do better, she'd have her chance.

At dinner that night Hermione confronted Harry about his performance during Potions. Scott said nothing, personally thinking that if Harry had been given the book he should be allowed to use it. Ron didn't seem too bothered either. Ginny overheard their conversation and questioned Harry worriedly about the book. Scott caught a hint of flowers when she went past him and hid a smile. Maybe the whole thing would be easier than he had thought.

In the late evening, when both dinner and classes had finished for the day, there was a space of time in which the Gryffindors congregated in the common room to relax or study. Ron and Harry settled into a game of chess which soon ended in utter defeat for Harry, who didn't look surprised. He heard Neville retelling the story of what had happened with Snape to some third-years and made a mental note to discourage that. He didn't want to become well known, even if it was just as a student who had suffered another minor humiliation at Snape's hands. It was difficult to work under a spotlight.

Harry and Ron sat next to Hermione on a couch opposite the chair Scott had slouched into. "I can't face my homework tonight," Ron groaned.

Scott looked around the room, taking in the ambience and behavioural patterns of the students. "So what exactly do you guys do around here in the evening?"

Ron shrugged. "Sit around. Talk. Sometimes we play games." He quickly looked at Hermione. "But don't say homework!"

As if on cue, Neville approached them, looking hopeful as he sat in the chair next to Scott's. "Hey… What are we talking about?" he asked slightly nervously. Neville seemed to exist on the edge of Harry, Ron and Hermione's close friendship. The poor guy was just looking for someone to hang out with, and Scott had no problem including him.

"Hey Nev," Scott said, as if he'd known him for years. Most people weren't aware of it, but there was such a thing as forced familiarity. It was an extremely useful tool in Scott's situation. People tended to respond based on how they were treated, and jumping straight in the verbal lexicon from 'acquaintance' to 'close friend' accelerated the bonding process. "Just stuff, mostly."

The five of them chattered on about nothing until it was a little past the normal bedtime. Hermione left her seat before the others to help gather the first-years up for bed and make sure no one was out after curfew, Ron reluctantly rising to follow her. The remaining three boys trudged up to their dormitory to settle in for the night. Scott remembered that he'd probably be getting his schedule of additional lessons in the morning.

The lights went out and Hogwarts fell under the blanket of sleep. Scott allowed himself to succumb to its smothering influence, slipping off not long after the others.

About one in the morning Scott awoke to the sound of Harry stirring in his bed. Rather than get up immediately, he waited until Harry tapped him on the leg. Pushing off his sheets and rolling to his feet, Scott silently padded across the room and followed Harry down the staircase. The common room was empty, the fire still smouldering in its place against the far wall. Harry and Scott sat in the two chairs closest to its feeble light, facing each other. Neither spoke for a moment. Harry was holding a worn letter in one hand.

"I wrote to Dumbledore after you left," he said in a hushed voice.

"I know."

"He seems to think that you're on the level… So far as being on our side goes."

"That was the impression he gave me," Scott agreed. "Like I said, you don't have to believe all of it. But I really am here to help you."

Harry sighed. "It's not easy to accept, you know?"

"Yes, I know. The principal is basic enough, but the implications are... intricate," Scott said. "Some days I'm not sure if I believe it."

"What changes your mind?" Harry asked wryly.

"Home. The Republic. If you could see The City stretch to the horizon, or even just step through the Transferral, then you'd understand," Scott said, his eyes far away. He saw Harry's uncomprehending look and shrugged apologetically. "Sometimes you have to realise that you're part of something much bigger than yourself. That's what pulls me back when I start thinking that this limited space—" he waved his hands at the room, a gesture meant to encompass much more than just that, "—is all there is."

"Do you ever make any sense?"

"As little as possible. It makes me mysterious, and girls love that."

"What I want to know," Harry said, determinedly moving on, "is what you told Dumbledore to make him believe you."

"It wasn't just what I told him," Scott said, "but what I showed him. It's a long story."

"I know you met with him," Harry said, sounding frustrated. "Just tell me what happened then. Dumbledore wasn't very clear."

"There were some things that happened a long time before that. But," Scott said, stopping Harry when he started to speak again, "I'll tell you what I can."

"You convinced him somehow."

"He was already at least partially convinced before I showed up," Scott said. "The rest of it came with a serious amount of info."

"So tell me the same thing."

"It was just before school started," Scott began to explain. "And it was really the second time — but nobody ever said stories have to be chronological…"

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