Summary: Harry Potter is a wizard, which surprises him. But Harry Potter is also a Multiple, which surprises everyone.

Harry Potter belongs to J.K.Rowling. This is fan fiction.

The Many Faces of Adira Potter
By = Fayanora

There is at least one small part that is mostly lifted word for word from the canon books. I try not to do that if I can help it, though, and it's only a very small part.

Chapter Two: A Little Problem

 

The next day, at breakfast, Draco Malfoy walked over to the Griffindor table where Harry was at and said, “Ah, the great Harry Potter returns at last. Good to see that insufferable redhead is gone for now. What's it like, Potter, having to pee sitting down?”

“I don't know, Malfoy,” his voice harsher because Alastair was talking, even though they hadn't changed, “what's it like having to put your head over the toilet to poop?”

Malfoy glared as everyone else laughed. “Watch your tongue, Potter, if you like it where it is.”

“Funny how much braver you are down on the ground, with your minions not far away,” Al-Harry said cooly.

“I'll take you on anytime myself. Tonight, even. Wizard's duel, midnight. No contact, wands only.”

“Sure, why not? Sounds like fun.”

“Uh yeah, I'm his second,” Ron said. “Who's yours?”

“Crabbe. So midnight's fine?”

“Well since high noon would be too conspicuous, midnight sounds like the next logical time.”

Malfoy looked confused. Harry grunted.

“It's a Muggle cultural reference, of course you didn't get it.”

Malfoy scoffed, but walked away.

“So I don't know what a wizard's duel is exactly, but I assume it's like a Muggle duel, but with wands instead of guns?”

“Er... I don't know.”

“I imagine it is,” said Hermione. “But you can't possibly go! Think of all the points you'll lose us if you get caught!”

Ron was about to speak, but Al-Harry interrupted. “Of course I'm not going, it's an obvious trap.”

“Oh. Well, that's good. But why did you accept?”

“Because I'm going to alert McGonagall that Malfoy might be out, just in case he really does plan to show up.”

“Why not Filch?”

“Because the man hates students and doesn't seem to serve any purpose. Sure, he cleans, but doesn't seem to use magic to do it; I'm not sure he can use magic. Which makes me wonder, why don't they have a janitor who can use magic? I wonder what Filch did to deserve having to work here with people he hates. Poor man.”

“You're feeling bad for Filch?”

Al-Harry snorted. “If I couldn't do magic, using Muggle cleaning methods to clean at a school of magic is the last place I'd want to be. I'd be a grouchy, spiteful, nasty git too if I had to do that.”

Harry's eyes shifted to hazel, his hair reddening, and said, “Al, you're already a grouchy git.”

Ron shook his head. “That is going to take so long to get used to.”

“You're telling us,” Harry said.

“Anyway, you think Filch is a squib?”

“No idea what that word means.”

“It means he's a non-wizard born to wizarding parents. The opposite of a muggleborn.”

“Maybe. I've never seen him use magic, other than potions. Not that I care, I just don't get why he's working here as a janitor when he can't do magic. Isn't there something else he could do? Something that doesn't anger him so much?”

Al-Harry shook their head, and sighed, going back to their work.

 

Harry ended up heading toward the common room early from dinner that night, but he made it no further than the library before he got dizzy and leaned against the wall. His head began to hurt, but before he could do more than moan a little, his hair became long and brown and straight, he felt his eyes changing, and he shrunk by at least a foot. Then, where Harry had been standing, was a little girl no older than 6, her skin brown enough to pass as bi-racial. She grinned, took out a mirror to look at herself, interested by having one green eye and one blue eye, then sneaked off.

Running into nobody else by some miracle, she followed some Slytherins to their common room, somehow also getting in without being seen. She hid behind a chair and pointed her wand at Draco, whispering incantations. Nothing appeared to happen, but she wasn't expecting anything to yet, anyway. She'd come up with the plan when Harry had been reading the other day, but hadn't known who she was going to target until Draco started being a git earlier that day. The plan involved a time-release spell, so of course it wouldn't look like anything had happened. But tomorrow, it would.

Her task complete, the little girl left the common room by just walking as though she belonged there. She was still dressed in a Hogwarts uniform, so doubtless people who saw her just thought she was a very short firstie. However it worked, she got out without a problem and skipped back to Griffindor's common room, going inside with a group of chattering first-years.

Going upstairs to Harry's room, she saw Ron changing, and wolf-whistled. His reaction was very funny, so she giggled as she watched him flailing about in a panic.

“YOU! You're a girl! You're not supposed to be here!”

“Sure I am. I live here.”

Ron spluttered. “No you don't!”

“Sure I do.” She held her hand out. “Hi, I'm Zoey Potter.”

Ron groaned. “Another one? How many people are in there, anyway?”

“Only four that I know of. But the others didn't know about me, so I could be wrong.”

Ron looked at her closer. “You don't look like either Harry or Iliana.”

She shrugged. “So?”

“Just seems odd, is all.”

“Well I do have one green eye and one blue eye. And though he hasn't shown up yet, I think Al has blue eyes, so I'm similar in that way.”

“Blue, green, and hazel?”

She shrugged. “It's magic.”

“Point. I suppose you're going to sleep in Harry's bed?”

“Yup.”

She went over to Harry's trunk and pulled out one of Dudley's old t-shirts, a really old one that wouldn't be
too
huge on her. Without any warning at all, she pulled her robes off, and Ron jerked his head away.

“Oy! Anyone could see you!”

“I'm six.”

“Yes, I had noticed. What's your point?”

“I'm
six
.”

Ron shook his head, giving up. “Is it safe to look?”

“Sure,” she said.

He turned and peeked, and saw her mooning him. “OY!”

She giggled. “What? Never seen a six year old's butt before?”

Ron peeked again, and – seeing she was decent at last – went past her and back downstairs.

“Where you going, Ron?”

“To see if I can find Hermione.”

“Oh goody! I'll come too!”

As he went down the stairs, she slid down the banister and landed barefoot on the floor before him. She shouted “Hermione!” Eyes turned her direction and stared at this small child in their common room.

Luckily, Hermione was still downstairs. She looked at Zoey curiously. Zoey walked up to her, bowed with a flourish, and announced with mock pomposity, “Greetings, Hermione Jean Granger. I am Zoey Potter.”

Hermione looked at Ron questioningly. He shrugged.

“Well hi there, Zoey,” Hermione said. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Thank you.”

With that, she ran off upstairs, and everyone still in the common room started talking about the strangeness of Harry Potter in low mutters. Ron sat down next to Hermione, even though he was already in his PJ's, and put his head in his arms on the table.

“There, there, Ron, we'll get used to it eventually.”

 

*

 

Zoey was still around the next day, of course. She changed into her robes right there in front of Ron, Seamus, and Dean, and again their reactions were very funny to her. She hurried to get ready, and practically dragged Ron to breakfast.

“Oy, what's the rush?”

“We should sit where we can watch the Slytherin table, something very funny is going to happen. Hey Hermione, you should come with us!”

“Why, what's going to happen?”

“It's a secret. Oh, we should slow down so Filch doesn't get upset.”

They waited there, eating, for Malfoy to show up, trying to get the girl to speak, but she refused. When they finally saw Malfoy, nothing looked odd about him, but Zoey began to giggle.

“What are you--”

“Just watch him.”

They did. For a couple minutes, nothing happened. They were tempted to stop looking, but then they noticed something happen. Before their eyes, his hair turned bubblegum pink and went from sleek and slicked back to poking out everywhere worse than Harry's hair.

They burst into laughter. Within minutes, the laughter had spread, and Draco was looking confused. Then someone showed him what he looked like, and he screamed and ran out of the room.

The laughter was still going when Fred and George showed up.

“So who did that? Because that was bloody brilliant.”

“I think Zoey here did,” Ron said, indicating the young girl.

“Oh yeah, we heard about you last night. Fred Weasley,” Fred said, holding out his hand.

“And I'm George. Always glad to meet a fellow trouble maker.”

She took both their hands at once and giggled. “Thanks. Ah, I wonder how Ms. Pomfrey will try to deal with it. I've covered all the counters I know about. One will make his hair turn into snakes, another will turn his hair into seaweed. And a third will make all his hair fall out. It'll take a full day to grow back if that happens.”

“Wow. How does a first year become such a genius?”

“Oh, lots of reading. I may have been in hiding, but I was pulling strings from within, to get the others to read certain things, and then I compiled the information inside and worked it out. But now I'm out, I can read whatever I want, whenever I want to. So this is just the beginning.”

“As funny as that was, Zoey,” Hermione said, “that was very mean. I should tell McGonagall on you.”

Zoey shrugged. “What're they gonna do to me? I'm too adorable and young to punish too much. And if they decide otherwise, I'll just vanish. It would be unfair to punish the others for something I did. Anyway, Hermione, don't you want to know why I did it?”

Hermione sighed. “Why did you do it?”

“Because Malfoy tried luring us into a trap. Al saw right through it, but still, he tried. So I got him back.”

Hermione shook her head disapprovingly, but said nothing else.

 

Draco Malfoy wasn't seen all that day. From rumors they heard, his hair had undergone two disturbing transformations before falling out, when Madam Pomfrey tried fixing it, and she couldn't get it to regrow.

“I can't stand it,” Zoey said that night in the common room. “I need a picture. I'll be right back.”

“Where are--”

Suddenly, Harry stood there, bemused. “What's going---”

Before he could finish his sentence, Harry vanished again, and Zoey was back, holding a camera. Ron and Hermione were so shocked by this that Zoey was out the door before they snapped out of it. They immediately ran after her, as it was almost curfew, and in their haste left the portrait open.

She had been fast; they scoured the corridors for her, even down in the dungeons. They didn't find her until she was running away from several angry Slytherins, laughing like a maniac as they chased her. Hastily, Ron and Hermione ran to keep up with the girl.

“What'd you do?”

“Got a photo of Malfoy bald! For some reason the Slytherins didn't appreciate it.”

“Gee, I wonder why?”

On their way back, they ran into Peeves the Poltergeist. The colorful little man grinned maliciously at them, rubbing his hands together. “Oooh, students. It's past curfew now, ickle firsties. Should tell Filch, I should.”

“Please don't! We're on our way back now.”

“Hmm... do I or don't I? Decisions, decisions...”

“Shove it, Peeves!” shouted Ron. Hermione and Zoey both groaned.

“STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!” he shouted, Ron's rudeness having decided him.

“Come,” Hermione said, grabbing them both and running away.

They got lost trying to get away, and ran into a dark corridor.

“Where are we? I don't recognize this.”

“Oh no! This is the third floor corridor! It's forbidden!”

They heard Filch coming, and looked around desperately. “Alohomora,” Hermione incanted at the door. It unlocked, and she dragged them in.

Ron and Hermione's first sign of trouble was Zoey gleefully shouting “DOGGIE! Pretty poochy!”

“What? What do you---” Ron started, looking where Zoey was pointing.

“Pretty little Spot! Such a nice wittle doggy!” she said, as Ron poked Hermione to get her attention.

The two were looking up at an enormous, three headed dog, and despite what Zoey had said, it did not look nice at all. In fact, it was only the fact they'd surprised it that they hadn't been attacked. It was recovering from that, though, and growling at them, then barking. They screamed. Zoey jumped forward and hugged the giant dog's leg. It stopped barking and looked down at her in confusion. They took advantage of this confusion to grab Zoey and carry her off running down the corridors and into the common room, panting with the effort.

“Aww, no more pretty doggie,” Zoey said sadly.

“UGH!” Hermione exclaimed. “That's it! I'm going to bed before either of you can try getting us killed again, or worse – expelled. Good night.”

“She needs to sort out her priorities,” Ron said, as Zoey giggled.

 

The next day, they talked about the experience of the night before, Hermione mentioning she'd seen it standing on a trap door, so it must be guarding something. They were still discussing what could be that valuable when the mail came and Zoey got a package, though it was addressed to Iliana.

“I know it's weird,” she said to the confused-looking owl, “but you can give it to me. Iliana isn't available right now. I'll give it to her.”

“She's right,” said Ron.

Hooting in a resigned way, the owl gave Zoey the package.

“Gee, it's shaped like a broomstick,” she said. “I wonder if it's that Underwear of the Month basket I ordered.”

“Underwear of the Month?”

She giggled. “Yes, if something like that existed, I would subscribe for sure. But yeah, obviously a broom. Yup,” she added, holding up a letter. “Says so here in this attached letter.”

Ron read it; it was from McGonagall, instructing her not to open it at the table.

“Like I would anyway,” she said. “It's not mine, is it? Anyway, wanna see the photo I got?”

She handed the two of them a copy each of a picture of Draco, bald, jumping in fright at the flash of the camera and running away, as the picture version of Zoey ran after him and dragged him back into the frame.

“Keep em. I have dozens. Oh, Fred, George, here, you can have copies too.”

“Brilliant!”

They looked over at Draco, whose hair was back to normal now, but he was looking very embarrassed, and left breakfast early.

However, he did not go far. When they left the Great Hall, he was there with Crabbe and Goyle, all three of them looking livid.

“YOU!” he shouted, pointing at Zoey.

“Who me? Innocent little me?”

“Yes you, Potter. You give me those photos NOW!”

“I'd be glad to give you copies,” she said, handing each one of them copies.

Crabbe did not manage to stifle his snort of amusement in time, and Draco glared daggers at him. Recovering quickly, Crabbe scowled at her. “Give us
all
your copies now, or else.”

“Oh, sorry, I've already given out a dozen copies today, and taught several people the copying spell. Maybe you shouldn't try to get other people in trouble by challenging them to midnight duels, in future, and we can call this first prank the last, whadda ya say?”

“Why you little...” he paused, looking at the package in her hand. “Oh you're in for it now, Potter! That's a broomstick, and first years aren't allowed their own brooms.”

“Special exception for Iliana, seeing as she's the new Griffindor Seeker.”

Before Draco could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at his elbow.

“Not arguing, I hope, students?” he squeaked.

“Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor,” said Malfoy quickly.

“Yes, yes, that’s right,” said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. “Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?”

“Dunno yet, Iliana's not here right now, so she hasn't opened it. Wait, Ron, hold this for me,” she said, thrusting the package into his arms.

“What? I---”

Zoey vanished, and a bemused Iliana stood there in her place. “What?”

“Oh there you are, Iliana. I think Zoey wants--”

“Zoey?” she looked confused.

“Zoey Potter. The newest member of your collective to appear. Anyway, this is yours, open it.”

Still bemused, Iliana opened it. “A Nimbus 2000!” she exclaimed. Draco glared with jealousy.

“Ah yes, Potter, an excellent broom indeed. Use it well.”

Flitwick and the three Slytherins left them then, Draco grumbling loudly. Iliana suddenly found herself thrusting the broom into Ron's arms again. And with that, Zoey returned.

Ron blinked at her as she took the broom back. “Are you guys getting better at that, or is that just you who can do that?”

“No idea. Come on, I need to put this away before we go to class.”

“What's the betting the only two girls in their collective are both good at Quidditch?” Ron wondered aloud at Hermione. Hermione shrugged.

“I don't know. But I can't imagine Wood will be pleased if only Iliana can play Quidditch.”

“Nah, it'll be fine. You saw for yourself, twice now she switched on purpose to someone else and back again. When it's time to play Quidditch, if she sucks at it, she can just switch. There won't be a problem.”

 

There was a problem. Zoey was slightly better at Quidditch than the boys in the collective, but not by much. She flew well enough, but couldn't catch anything, and almost fell off her broom once in the attempt. And as it turned out, Zoey could only leave on a whim, and all attempts to switch on purpose were futile. Wood was in tears, pulling his hair out. The first match was only two weeks away, and Iliana had only had one practice session.

The next week's practice went no better, and by the end of it, Wood was screaming at Zoey. Despite not having been scared of Fluffy, Zoey reacted to his screaming much as any six year old would, and burst into genuine tears. This did not stop Wood from yelling; in fact, he screamed even louder.

Fred and George began stepping forward to defend her, when she fell to her knees and jerked in a way Ron and Hermione had come to recognize; it didn't surprise either of them that when she stood back up, she transformed. What
did
surprise them, though, was that there seemed to be two members of the Potter collective shouting in unison at Wood, and as a result, their transformation was still in flux, fighting between the two influences.

“AND NOFFER TINNNN,” they said, making so little sense that they paused and looked confused. “Whavatfra? GAH!”

They fell over, and the transformation settled; they were now stuck as a mix of two people. Both eyes were a strange mix of hazel and blue, their hair was a mix of red and black, some of it short and some long, some of it smooth and some of it sticking out. Their skin was splotchy; pale in places and tan in others. One hand was masculine with slightly thicker fingers than the other, which was thin and feminine. And one leg was several inches shorter than the other, which is why they'd fallen over; and the shock of the incomplete change made them pass out.

When they woke up later in the hospital wing, they looked no different. Their face glared up at their friends, angry and confused.

“What the bloody hell happened?” they said in Al's harsh voice.

“Ah so you're awake, then, Mr. and Ms. Potter,” the matron said. “Good.”

“What?” they asked, sounding more like Iliana. “What was that?”

“Well best as I can tell, two of you tried taking over at the same time, and it resulted in a rather messy hybrid transformation. I didn't dare do anything to try to fix it, because to be honest, as a likely unique case, I have no idea what to do, and I'm afraid anything I do could damage you all permanently. So it was safest to do nothing, and hope you can sort yourselves out.”

“Great,” said Al. “Now I look like some kind of mutant. Just bloody wonderful. Malfoy is gonna laugh his arse off.”

“And that's not all,” Iliana said. “I can't feel Harry.”

“I can,” Al responded. “But he's not even a little in control, at the moment. It's just the two of us as pilot and co-pilot, for now.”

Ron shook his head and sighed, then glared at Wood. Wood ignored Ron, and turned to Alastair and Iliana. “So does that mean you'll be able to practice?”

“Ugh...” the two said in unison.

“I'm issuing you a crutch,” the matron said, “to adjust for the one leg being shorter than the other. It's on your wand-arm side, though, which will make things difficult. I suggest you try using your wand with your left hand until this passes.”

They nodded, closing their eyes, and silently wished they could be normal.

 

As the weeks wore on, and the weird looks increased, at least they could console themselves that with Iliana co-piloting, they were good at Quidditch, so Wood was happy about that. On the ground, they were awkward and clumsy in their hybrid body, but in the air they were every bit as graceful as ever.

On Halloween, they woke up to delicious smells of baking pastries and limped on their crutch down to breakfast, glad that they had the Halloween feast to look forward to. It also helped Al's mood that co-piloting with Iliana was a lot like being tutored in the things she was good at, including the levitation spell in Charms.

Ron was doing it wrong; Iliana was tempted to tell him how to do it right, but Al growled at her when she suggested it, so she didn't. Instead, Hermione corrected him on the right way to pronounce the incantation. Al's bad mood must have spilled over to Ron, because Ron snapped at her. And later, as they were leaving class, Ron sniped something nasty about Hermione at Al and Iliana, which Hermione overheard, sending her away crying.

“Smooth move, jackass,” Al sniped at Ron. “Now you've made her cry. You and Wood should form a club, call it the We Make Girls Cry Club.”

Ron did, at least, have the decency to look abashed about that. But he didn't go after Hermione.

They went to the feast and sat down. As they ate, they overheard news that Hermione was crying in the girl's bathroom. Ron looked guilty again, but his feelings of guilt did not slow down his stuffing his face. Which ended up being a good thing, because the feast got interrupted by Professor Quirrell running in and shouting about a troll in the dungeon before collapsing.

Everyone burst into panicked screaming, until Dumbledore got their attention with some crackers from his wand.

“Prefects,” he said, “lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!”

As they followed Percy, Al and Iliana's face looked confused. “What? Dormitories? The troll is in the dungeons. Don't the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs have their dormitories down in the dungeons?”

“Er... that's a very good question. I think you're right.”

“Hermione!” Iliana shouted.

“What about her?”

“She doesn't know about the troll! We have to help her!”

Wait, shouldn't we just tell--

“Come on!” she said, ignoring Al, pulling Ron along. As they ran to find Hermione, they didn't notice that they'd left the crutch behind, and neither did they notice that the Potter body's hybrid appearance had changed, and now Iliana was running in her own body, the strange hybidization having become reversed.

“Percy!” Iliana exclaimed, hiding her and Ron behind a gargoyle. But it wasn't Percy, it was Snape.
“Well that's odd. What's he doing down here instead of being with the other teachers?”

“No idea.”

“He's heading up to the third floor. Why?”

“Hey, what's that smell?”

Iliana sniffed. “Eew,” she said. It was like old socks and an uncleaned public restroom of the foulest sort. It was the troll.

“Come on.”

They ran forward as it walked into a room, and Iliana made them hide again.

“What? We should close the door on it, trap it!”

“Ron you dunderhead, that's the girl's restroom it just walked into. Hopefully it'll look around and head back out, finding nothing interest--”

Hermione screamed. “Damn,” Iliana said, jumping out and whistling loudly. The troll didn't notice this at first, so she whistled louder. Ron joined in by screaming at it, and then Iliana fired sparks at it. This finally got the beast's attention, and it turned and lumbered in their direction.

“You keep distracting it, I'll extract Hermione.”

Ron nodded, continuing his attention-seeking, and Iliana ducked inside and pulled a terrified Hermione out and past the troll. Then she grabbed Ron's hand and they took off running, where they ran right into Professor McGonagall.

“Troll's back there! We barely got Hermione out of the restroom before it killed her!”

McGonagall nodded. “You three, back to Griffindor dormitories. We'll take care of the troll.”

But they were already halfway down the corridor before she'd finished speaking, and before long they were slamming the portrait shut and collapsing into chairs in the common room, panting like they'd run a marathon.

“Well that was a close shave,” Ron said.

 

*

 

With the icy chill of November, it was Quidditch season, and Wood was thrilled that Iliana was still hanging around for practices. Their first match, Griffindor versus Slytherin, was coming up, and everyone was excited about it.

One afternoon, they took advantage of some of the last nice weather for the season to sit outside in the sun, Hermione helping the situation with a little portable magical fire in a jam jar. Iliana was reading Quiddith Through The Ages, a library book, when they saw Snape limping past. Since they weren't sure the porable fire was allowed, they hid it, but their guilty looks got Snape's attention, and he confiscated the book on the excuse that library books weren't allowed outside.

“Odd, I wonder why he's limping?”

“I dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him.”

 

That evening, everyone was getting keyed up for the match, especially Iliana. She wanted her book back, to distract herself, so she went out to try to ask Snape for it back. She went down to the staffroom, which was flanked by a pair of gargoyles, but they didn't do anything but watch her as she knocked. There was no answer, so she knocked again.

“Is Professor Snape in there?” she asked the gargoyles.

“Should we tell her?”

“I don't see why not. Yes, he is.”

“Thank you.”

She knocked again. Still no response. So she opened the door, before the gargoyles could warn her not to, and saw Filch examining a bite on Snape's leg.

“Blasted thing,” Snape was saying. “How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?”

Iliana tried to close the door quietly, but Snape looked up and right into her eyes. He turned pale at first, then glared.

“I just wondered if I could have my book back.”

“GET OUT! OUT!”

Iliana ran off before he could take points off. She was halfway back when she had to lean against the wall.

“No, not now!”

She shrank, her hair changed color, and suddenly Zoey was there. Zoey walked back toward the staffroom, and went right in. Nobody was in there anymore. She looked around, found her book, and grabbed it, then headed back.

When she came through the portrait hole, Ron saw her and groaned. “Your timing sucks, you know.”

“Oh, don't worry,” Zoey said, putting the book on the table. “Iliana was having a Snape problem, so I came along to solve it. I'll be going now.”

“When you say you solved it--” he started, but she wasn't there anymore; Iliana was back.

“Did Zoey murder Snape?” Ron asked. “Because if you need to go on the run from the Ministry, I'd be willing to help.”

“Thanks, but no. I saw Filch helping Snape bandage a bad bite on his leg when I went into the staffroom, and he screamed at me to get out. I was heading back when Zoey took over, went back, and barged right in for the book. Luckily, nobody was in there that time. Anyway, from what Snape said before he noticed me, he tried getting past that three headed dog on Halloween, and got bitten.”

“What, d'ya reckon he tried stealing whatever it was guarding?”

“Yeah, why else would he be trying to get past it? He probably let the troll in, too, as a diversion.”

“I really doubt that, Iliana. He's a teacher.”

“Hermione,” Iliana said, “teachers are people. They can be thieves just as easily as anyone else.”

That night, Iliana tried to figure out what the dog was guarding, which kept her up rather later than she would have liked, given that their first Quidditch match was in the morning.

 

*

 

The next morning was pleasant weather for Quidditch, if a bit cold. Iliana was so nervous she had a hard time eating any breakfast. Seamus had perhaps the least helpful advice, to eat because seekers get clobbered the most by opposing teams, but his heart was in the right place.

Her stomach was still full of metaphorical rocks when they went out to the pitch to get changed. Her friends were in the stands holding a sign saying 'Potter for President,' which made her giggle, wondering how many wizard-born people were confused by the sign.

“Okay, men and women,” Wood said. “This is it.”

“The one we've been waiting for,” George said melodramatically.

“We have Oliver's speech memorized,” Fred explained.

“Shut up. We're going to win, everyone, I can feel it. Good luck, all of you.”

“Yeah, and if you lose, Oliver will pretend you don't exist.”

“Hush. Now, let's go play some Quidditch!”

They ran out, now in their Quidditch robes, and got into position in the air. Madam Hooch called for a fair game, her sights on the Slytherins, before she released the balls, and the game began.

Iliana flew around, looking for the snitch, listening to Lee Jordan's commentary along the way, giggling in places, but her focus on finding the snitch. Wood's plan, after all, was for her to stay out of the way until she saw it, so she would be less likely to be attacked.

There! She saw it! She pelted after it, but Marcus Flint blocked her on purpose, a foul that cost her the snitch. She went back to looking for it, annoyed that Slytherin felt they needed to cheat to win.

She was still looking minutes later when her broom jerked, starling a yelp out of her. Then it happened again, and again. Her broom was bucking around like a wild stallion trying to throw her off, which had her screaming and clutching the broom, getting the attention of everyone who could hear her.

As if a bucking broom wasn't problem enough, she felt her body trying to change to Zoey, and could finally sense the younger girl's thoughts; she, too, was screaming. Giant three headed dogs, no problem; but apparently Zoey feared falling. They both hung on tight, hoping the bucking would stop soon.

“Someone's jinxing Iliana's broom!” Ron exclaimed.

Hermione looked around with her binoculars, and saw Snape staring at Iliana, skin white as a ghost, muttering something under his breath. She gave the binoculars to Ron and ran off, sneaking over under the bleachers, and lit Snape's robes on fire. Once he noticed he was on fire and tried putting it out, he broke eye contact and fell against Professor Quirrell behind him.

The broom had stopped bucking, so Iliana composed herself quickly and sped toward the ground. In a flash, she was on the ground on all fours, choking. She spit something out, which turned out to be the snitch.

“Eew,” she said, thinking about the germs that must be on it. “I've got the snitch!” she shouted, holding it aloft.

Once people figured out what had happened, cheering erupted, and people joked about how she'd nearly swallowed it.

Given how she'd nearly fallen off her broom, and then nearly swallowed the snitch, she was soon at Hagrid's hut getting some tea.

“It was Snape,” Ron was explaining, “Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn’t take his eyes off you.”

“Rubbish,” said Hagrid, who hadn’t heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. “Why would Snape do somethin’ like that?”

Iliana, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Iliana decided on the truth.

“I found out something about him,” she told Hagrid. “He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it’s guarding.”

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

“How do you know about Fluffy?” he asked.

“Fluffy?”

“Yeah — he’s mine — bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las’ year — I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the —”

“Yes?” asked Iliana eagerly.

“Now, don’t ask me anymore,” said Hagrid gruffly. “That’s top secret, that is.”

“But Snape’s trying to steal it.”

“Rubbish,” said Hagrid again. “Snape’s a Hogwarts teacher, he’d do nothin’ of the sort.”

“So why did he just try and kill Iliana?” cried Hermione.

The afternoon’s events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape.

“I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I’ve read all about them! You’ve got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn’t blinking at all, I saw him!”

“I’m tellin’ yeh, yer wrong!” said Hagrid hotly. “I don’ know why Iliana's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn’ try an’ kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh — yer meddlin’ in things that don’ concern yeh. It’s dangerous. You forget that dog, an’ you forget what it’s guardin’, that’s between Professor Dumbledore an’ Nicolas Flamel —”

“Aha!” said Iliana, “so there’s someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?”

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

“Enough. I'm not sayin another word, any of yeh.”

Iliana jerked, becoming Zoey. Hagrid looked at her bemusedly.

“Ello there,” he said. “Who're you now?”

“I'm Zoey Potter. I saw Fluffy the other day. He's gorgeous!”

Hagrid beamed. “Yeh like im, do yeh?”

“Pretty puppy!”

“Puppy?” Ron said, incredulous. “I hope not. If that's him as a puppy, I'd hate to see him fully grown.”

Hagrid and Zoey spent the next hour discussing the kinds of creatures Hagrid was most fascinated by, but sadly Zoey did not get anything else out of him about what the dog was guarding. Then again, it was hard to tell if she was even trying to do that.

With just half an hour left til they had to go back inside, Zoey got dizzy, and leaned against the table.

“Wha's tha matter?” Hagrid asked in concern.

She jerked, shouting, and the shout changed from that of a little girl to that of an older boy. She shot up in height until she was a couple feet taller than Harry, her hair went black again but got shorter and smooth, her one hazel eye went blue to match the other one, and suddenly a very handsome 14 year old boy was sitting there, everyone staring at him in shock. Like Zoey and Iliana, he didn't wear glasses either.

He glared, which somehow seemed to enhance his looks rather than detracting.

“Sirius?” Hagrid said in shock.

“What'd you call me?”

“Er, sorry. Nothin.”

Hermione sighed. “Are you Alastair?”

He nodded, still scowling. “Yes. Alastair Potter. And I've been seething silently inside for the past hour. How can you defend Snape, Hagrid? The man is an abusive arse who shouldn't be teaching children, and now it looks like he might be a thief and an attempted murderer.”

“I'm sayin nothin, Al. Dumbledore trusts him, and that's good enough for me.”

“Yeah, I'm really gonna value the opinion of someone who put me with child abusers for 10 years. Granted, he did say he misjudged them, and I'm going to become a ward of Hogwart's, unless he's forgotten his promise. Still, his judgment of people has been wrong before, so I don't have your faith in him, Hagrid. I'm open minded; maybe he's innocent. But I'm not going to go to the other extreme and trust him just because Dumbledore says he's good people.”

Hagrid looked thoughtful at that, if a little sad. “Well tha's yer right, o' course. I understand, I do. But I trust Snape. And I trust Dumbledore. He trusted me, got me this job after I was expelled.”

“Ah, I see. You owe him. Well I won't say anything else, then. There'd be no point.”

 

*

 

Alastair didn't leave after Hagrid, which of course led to more introductions and even more odd looks, seeing as he was a full three years older than anyone in their year. Harry Potter was also now known to be four different people, and people had begun taking bets on the likelihood of still more to come.

Meanwhile, it was plain from Al's grouchy and sarcastic attitude where Harry got that side of his personality from. Al always had a smart-ass response to everything, even if he didn't always share it. But he wasn't all grump all the time, thankfully; he did laugh and joke amiably at times, with a laugh like a bark, which got weird reactions from the teachers.

The teachers were, in fact, the people who gave Al the weirdest looks of all. The looks were best described as an odd mix of pleased nostalgia, fear, sadness, and anger. And whenever he spoke, they got even stranger. He tried asking McGonagall about it once, and she turned white and quickly changed the subject, so Al decided not to ask anyone else about it.

What was more, when Snape saw him for the first time, he set a new high mark for fury in his face that Al hadn't thought possible. Snape was actually so livid that he couldn't speak, and spent all of the class time pointedly avoiding looking in Al's direction.

Despite all that, he found there were benefits as well. Older students, girls mostly but also some boys, would stare at him like lovesick puppies, swooning and/or giggling as he walked by. It had made him annoyed at first, but as the weeks wore on, he began to enjoy it, soaking up the attention like a drug while simultaneously pretending he didn't notice.

Al was, unsurprisingly, horrible at Quidditch. Unlike the others, who could at least fly reasonably well, Al was even more prone to airborne accidents than Neville was, and actually broke both arms one Saturday afternoon, so Wood reluctantly decided that until Iliana came back, Al would stay firmly on the ground. Why Iliana was the only one in the collective to have that particular talent, nobody knew.

In fact, he was very clumsy on the ground as well. Whether this was from the transformation having thrown off his sense of his body or was just how he was, nobody knew. But he found himself apologizing for knocking stuff over almost as much as he was making sarcastic comments, most days.

He, Ron, and Hermione were going to the library a lot lately, looking for Nicolas Flamel. He was a hard person to find, though; they must have gone through half the books in the library by Christmas looking for him.

Draco Malfoy tried teasing him about staying in Hogwart's for Christmas, but he wasn't bothered. As long as he didn't have to see the Dursleys again, he was fine. Besides, Ron and his brothers were staying behind, too, because their parents were going to Romania to visit Charlie.

Hermione made them promise to keep looking for Flamel before she left for home.

“Yeah yeah, we know,” Al said, not looking up from his book.

“Hey Hermione, you could ask your parents about Flamel, that should be safe.”

“Very safe, seeing as they're both dentists.”

“Dentists?”

“Doctors who specialize in fixing teeth,” Al explained.

“Oh. Why do they do that?”

“What, specialize?”

“Yeah.”

“Because Muggle medicine is very complex and difficult to learn. It takes people eight or more years of university to become a general practitioner, and more time, I think, to specialize. Specialists are needed because there's too much knowledge about medicine for anyone to know everything. So for anything more complicated than easy fixes, you get foot specialists, nose and throat specialists, cancer specialists, and so on.”

“Dentists don't need that much education, Al,” Hermione corrected. “They're not like other specialists, since they don't need to know all that other medicine just to fix teeth.”

“I stand corrected.”

“Oh god,” Ron said, scooting away from some other students. “More of those giggling fourth-year girls.”

Al leaned back in his chair, smiling easily. “Eh, you're just jealous.”

“Not really. It's a little creepy, since you're actually 11, no matter how old you look.”

Al shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Even more so when you add that there's a six year old girl in your collective.”

“Yeah okay; point taken, Ron.”

On Christmas eve, Al was reading again, but stopped, looking bored.

“Well, this is boring. And I wouldn't want Harry to miss out on his first decent Christmas. So I'll see you around, carrot-top.”

“What did you call---”

But Al was gone, and Harry was back, sighing. “Sorry about him.”

Ron shrugged. “It's okay.”

 

*

 

On boxing day, Harry woke up without much excitement, but that all changed when he saw he'd gotten actual presents from Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley. It seemed Ron had told her Harry wasn't expecting any presents.

“Sorry I only got you one thing,” Ron said. “I'd love to give each of you stuff, but y'know, we don't have much money.”

“Hey that's fine, I wasn't expecting any presents at all, and even if I had, I wouldn't expect anyone to give each of us presents. If the others want something, they can buy it with the money my parents left me.”

He went through more of his presents, and found a wooden flute from Hagrid, which looked handmade. There was also a mysterious package from someone who didn't give their name. The note said that it had belonged to Harry's father. He opened it up, and felt something that felt like water woven into fabric.

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed. “I wonder if that's... yes, it is! Put it on!”

Bemused, Harry put it on, and saw his body disappear.

“Invisibility cloak?” Harry guessed.

“Yeah, exactly. Those are really rare, and really valuable.”

Harry frowned, thinking. But his thoughts were interrupted by footsteps up the stairs, so he hid the cloak. Before long, he was dragged downstairs by the twins, for a day of Christmas fun and feasting, his first proper Christmas.

That night, as he lay in bed, Ron asleep, Harry sat thinking. After a while, he came to a decision, and got up, grabbed the cloak, and headed out into the corridors to sneak around the school.

Not knowing where else to go, he tried the library, sneaking into the restricted section to look for Flamel. He instead grabbed a screaming book, dropped the lantern in fright, and took off before Filch could find him. After some close calls, he ducked into an empty classroom and turned around, startled to see a very large mirror.

It was huge, and magnificent, and it had an inscription around it that looked to be in another language.

That's not another language, though, said Al in his head.

What is it, then? He asked silently, in case someone heard him.

It's English, written backwards. It says “I show not your face but your heart's desire.”

Harry squinted at it, trying to read it backwards. Sure enough, that's what it said, backwards and in disjointed words in an attempt to disguise the fact.

Curious, he took off the cloak and stepped closer to examine it. Suddenly, his reflection changed to show Iliana standing there, and all around her were dozens of people. One of the two closest, just behind him, looked very much like Iliana, but with Harry's green eyes. His mother, then. And the other looked like him, only older, and with Iliana's hazel eyes. So that was James, his father. The others had to be other family members, then.

He stared at this. He wondered why it showed Iliana instead of himself, but had no answer, so he just stood there staring at them, until a sudden noise made him realize he was hiding from Filch. He threw the cloak over himself again and left.

 

The next day, he was like a man posessed; all he could think of was the mirror, and after telling Ron about it, he said he'd show it to Ron. The day seemed to crawl by at a snail's pace as he waited for nightfall.

That night, he and Ron went out under the invisibility cloak, Harry struggling to find the place again. But finally they found it. He stood in front of it, and once more saw Iliana and his family surrounding her.

“I don't see anything,” Ron complained.

“Oh, well, maybe you have to stand here to see it.”

“Alright,” Ron said, stepping into place.

“See them? See my family, and Iliana?”

“Wow! I see me! And I look great. Head boy, Quidditch captain, and I'm holding the Quidditch cup! Do you think this mirror shows the future?”

“No,” Harry said, feeling Al speaking through him. “The inscription is backwards English, it says it shows you your heart's desire. So I want to see my family, that makes sense. And you want to outshine the rest of your brothers, that also makes sense. The only part I don't understand is why it shows me Iliana, rather than me.

“Anyway, what's so interesting about something achievable like that? This is the only time I've seen my family, let me have it again.”

“No, you had your turn!”

A sudden noise outside froze them, and Harry hastily threw the cloak over both of them just before Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, came in the room. They didn't dare breathe as she looked around in confusion, not letting their breath go until she left the room. They waited a few heartbeats before heading back to their dorms.

He had a hard time sleeping again that night, with the mirror on his mind, and that sleeplessness haunted him all day long in the form of exhaustion. Despite that, though, he went back again the next night, on his own again.

Throwing the cloak aside casually, he went right to staring into the mirror.

“Back again, Harry?” a familiar voice asked.

His insides froze, and he looked to the voice's owner, Albus Dumbledore. He must have walked right by the man in his haste to get to the mirror.

“Professor. Er, I didn't see you.”

“Funny, how nearsighted being invisible can make you,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes, walking over to where Harry was.

“So,” said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, “you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised.”

“Oh, is that what it's called?”

“Yes. And of course, you know what it does.”

“ 'I show not your face, but your heart's desire,'” Harry quoted.

“Indeed. Your Alastair aspect is quite astute, to have spotted that little trick so quickly. Some people stare at the mirror for years never realizing the inscription is actually English. Of course, there is more to the mirror than just that.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. While the mirror shows us neither truth nor wisdom, and while many have wasted their lives away, going mad trying to sort out if what they saw was possible, the happiest man on Earth could look into it and see only himself, just as he is.”

Al snorted audibly, Harry's eyes flashing blue. “I doubt any such person exists. But if they did, I think I grasp your meaning. It shows you what you most want, the deepest and most desperate desires of our hearts.”

“Precisely.”

“So why does it show me Iliana, rather than myself?”

“Hmm... that, my boy, you'll have to figure out for yourself. I do not feel qualified to offer suggestions on that. Anyway, Harry, the mirror will be moved to a new home, tomorrow, and since it has the unfortunate tendency to drive people insane, I ask you not look for it again. However, if you should come across it in the future, you should be prepared for it now.”

Well that's an odd statement. Does he expect that's likely? And does this have anything to do with the thing hidden in the castle right now? Whatever the hell that is...

Harry nodded, ignoring Al's internal comment. “Yes, sir. I promise I won't go looking for it again.”

“Good. I'll hold you to that. For now, though, I shall be lenient with you. I did, after all, give you your father's cloak, so I'm not terribly surprised you used it.”

“You had it?”

“Yes. He loaned it to me before going into hiding, which is why it's not been... well...” he trailed off.

“Blown up, you mean?”

“Er, yes. That. Anyway, I think it's time you go back to bed, don't you think?”

“Sir — Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?”

“Obviously, you’ve just done so,” Dumbledore smiled. “You may ask me one more thing, however.”

Smart ass, Al commented.

Takes one to know one, Harry replied.

“What do you see when you look in the mirror?” he asked aloud.

“I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks.”

Uh-huh. Sure you do.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“One can never have enough socks,” said Dumbledore. “Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn’t get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.”

“Okay. Well I'll be going back to bed now, sir.”

“Of course, my dear boy.”

Harry put the cloak back on, and went back. When he slipped back into bed, he thought about Dumbledore's answer, which had obviously been a lie.

Well what did you expect? That's a very personal question. For all you know, he could be gay, and he sees himself being--

God, Alastair, if you finish that thought, I will scream. I don't need any horrible images in my mind, thank you very much.

Whatever.

Harry sighed, and rolled over, concentrating on trying to get to sleep.