6

"Ow! My eyes! My eyes!"

"What happened?" Miranda Granger ran up to her husband, who was helping me stagger up to our tents whilst I was clutching my eyes, as if that could block out the pain.

The children, who had all been getting ready for a day on the beach, looked over and saw us stumbling in.

"Snape! In a Speedo!" I cried out in agony.

All of the kids looked sick, except for Moria, who didn't know what was going on.

"And, and... that's not the worst of it!" I blathered, still clutching my eyes. "Deputy Minister Umbridge, the most repulsive toad-woman you ever saw, in... AHH! I can't say it!"

"I tricked him into going with me to check out a topless beach." Ted, looking a trifle ill himself, told his wife. "And there was... yah, I didn't know their names, but it was sickening."

"OH! The PAIN!" I clawed at my face.

Miranda looked at her husband in surprise, hardly knowing how to take this situation. "Could they really be that bad?"

Ted shrugged. "Well, they did clear the beach around them. It seemed no one wanted to go too near."

"What's he doing here? Isn't this still a week before school ends? It should still be in session." Hermione scrunched up her nose to ask the question.

I cried from where I lay whimpering, crumpled up in a head on the floor, unable to answer.

After being dumped on my bed by concerned adults, I listened as the rest of the group went off to enjoy the sun, sand and surf.

A moment later, seeking to distract myself, I rolled out of bed and went to fetch my case of pensieve memories. It was undiminished from before I'd begun to absorb them, as each time I removed a memory I also replaced it with the newer version, once I'd done converting it over in my own mind, as those were still useful things to have on hand to review.

I then noted Slughorn's bucket sitting in the corner.

I pulled them out to have a look, and on reviewing those memories, found that Slughorn had pulled a switch on us and done Harry a grand favor. What I had requested was an overview of one teaching year, a year in which a professor naturally taught all seven grades of classes, thinking that would be easier for him to organize. What I got was parts of seven years in succession, each in turn following a class of students that included one Lily Evans, one James Potter, the rest of the Marauders, and the distasteful bully Severus Snape.

It was their school history, at least as far as Potions classes went.

At once this gave me an idea! I had been thinking of an 'if I can arrange it, it would be nice' priority of approaching Professor McGonagall once again to ask her the same thing that I'd requested from Slughorn, namely enough teaching memories to give me a good start on such essential disciplines as managing a class, presenting topics in an interesting fashion so as to engage attention, and of course how to appropriately administer school discipline.

And, if I'd just happened to fill in gaps in my Transfiguration skills, which was still one of my weakest subjects, so much the better.

Well, now I had to bump that up my priority list, and ask if she could tailor that presentation to be the same as Slughorn's marvelous gift, to whit, a chronological history of Harry's parents, as seen in those interactions she had with them, particularly in classes.

It would heal many of that lads wounds to be able to see them thus, since he could not be with them alive.

This also had the excellent side effect that I could expect a full commission of the pair's school history to include enough lessons to catch me up on that subject I remained appallingly weak on.

For that matter, I made a note to begin buttering up Professor Flitwick so I could make an attempt to wheedle the same out of him. Successful or not, I just wouldn't feel right unless I'd made a try. And, if I could ferret out others among the teachers that had taught that fabulous group, so much the better. I made a note, in particular, to ask Hagrid and Dumbledore about perhaps donating their experiences with those most influential students.

Anything we could obtain would fill in gaps in Harry's otherwise quite limited knowledge. And, I could hardly say no to any knowledge I might gain, either.

For that matter, now that I had seen how special were those memories that Slughorn had donated, I could not in good conscience, simply put them inside of my head, as I'd been intending. Harry had to see them, and if I put them in me I'd no sooner do so than I'd be altering and misremembering them to star myself, and that would hardly do the poor boy the same amount of good.

And it would also tip my hand as to a number of other things.

So I was caught in a quandary. Harry had to see them, and not just see them once, he'd want to watch them again and again from time to time as he found convenient or he needed those images refreshed. But mere watching of them didn't give me any skills, so I'd want to pour them inside of my head at some point - but I couldn't do that and still leave them around for Harry.

Well, I felt sure there was a magical solution to this difficulty. I didn't know it, but I did have alot of money and knew people who did and could solve some magical problems. I sent off a letter to a pensieve-crafter (a far less well known specialty than a wand-crafter, but probably greater in skill), asking if there was not some way to duplicate stored memories, or perhaps to share.

That done, I tabled the topic for now and went on with other duties.

Seeing the memories of Potions classes, even in overview, had recalled to my mind one of my priorities of this trip. I still did not know how the Ministry tracked underage magic, however I felt sure that wand use was involved somehow. That meant that non-wand forms of magic should be available to practice, to whit, Potions, and perhaps animagus transformation.

The potions we could probably afford to put off a while while I worked out the details on how to share out those memories donated by Slughorn. But I had a somewhat related project I could start on right away.

Harry was a mess.

Not much of one, it's true, compared to the mess he'd eventually be, but there was still alot of work to be done getting him to where he ought to be. So, when the troupe rolled in later collect me to go with them on their search for lunch, I had a plan to spring on them.

"Hermione," I spoke to her as the group was getting changed into restaurant acceptable clothes from their now wet and sandy beach wear. We were all on a first name basis by this point, I'd insisted, so she was Hermione to me just as I was Gilderoy to her and all the rest of the children. "I've been thinking. I have a charm that can aid one in recalling forgotten memories, and I was wondering about using that to help Harry. He did live with his parents for fifteen months, after all, and helping him to recall those times could give him a much greater picture of who they were and what they were like."

Harry had frozen by this point, right in the act of stuffing on shoes he'd paused to stare at me like I'd grown two heads and was using them to sing soprano duets. But Hermione squealed and flung herself at him to hug him.

"However," I cautioned, also pausing in the act of putting on my own shoes. "That is only part of the equation. He needs to heal, and there is substantial abuse and neglect from his previous guardians to consider. So, I was planning to propose a modified strategy to what I used to aid those torture patients at St. Mungos to recover their wits and senses."

This, quite naturally, led to a very long tangent as to what I'd done, and why, and how it worked, before we could continue on with the topic at hand.

"So, you are going to make him forget those awful Dursleys?!" Hermione chirped, jumping around in happiness, before she turned to him and glowed in triumph. "Oh! I think that's a great idea!"

"If he agrees, and then only partially," I amended. "You have to consider, this was not one event. It took up most of his life. Forgetting all of that, well... he'd be a vegetable, and we can't have that. However..." I tapped my lip in thought. "Yes, there might be a way."

"What? What is it?" The eager genius bounced all over me, happy and excited over the prospect of healing her best friend. The rest of her family watched this exchange in varying degrees of interest as they waited for us.

I drew a long breath and shrugged, springing forth in a golden smile. "Well, if I had a little assistance from you, I'm sure everything would go over perfectly. Do you want to give it a try?"

She nodded strongly. "Anything!"

"Very well, then." I stood up, having donned my shoes for our lunch trip. "We will do a bit of what the muggles find so effective in surgery, and replace the blood, or in this case memories, we take away. If I could call on you to be a donor - you'd lose nothing, dear, I'd only make copies, then we could go very slowly to make sure nothing goes wrong, and point by point erase the bad and replace with new. I'd only be removing the worst of what he had, the beatings and so forth. We could easily afford to leave all of the productive and boring bits, like working in the garden, cooking and so on."

I was nodding while stroking my chin. "Indeed, if this works we could really let Harry have a 'normal' childhood in most respects, through leaving what was good of his, and adding some implanted memories. It really would be our best hope to remove the harm of that abuse he'd suffered."

I smiled again to the stunned family. "You know, if we did this properly, I could even make a few edits. They'd have to be careful and precise, but with a touch of artistry, which I must say with all modesty I do have, and giving back to you some of those alterations and changes, Hermione, you could have been Harry's best friend since pre-school."

Hermione started to bounce around the tent, shrieking in wordless glee and smiling wide, clapping her hands all the while.

I'd never seen her so excited. By anything.

I spread my hands to her parents. "It is a bit like a dream. Time won't have changed. But if they both recall the same classes, the same people, and being friends... well, it won't have been real, but it will feel like it."

Ted was staring at me, stone-faced. "That scares the bejeezus out of me." But the man got quickly overruled by his wife, who thought it was a wonderful idea and was eager to help. She said it was for Harry, but I saw in there a substantial concern for her near-friendless and lonely daughters as well.

Moria, as it turned out, was very much like her sister in all ways, including her bookish habits and lack of ability in making friends. Idolizing her older sister may have had the effect. But she could just as easily have gotten it from their mother, who (while a touch more outgoing) was much the same.

So Ted got sent to get take-out as going out to lunch got canceled and the whole party sat down to convene a planning session as for what was to be done. I was even surprised by their eagerness, and soon the Granger girls had Harry fully roped in to helping out.

They quickly blew all of my small-scale, measured plans out of the water. leaping forward in eagerness to fix everything, not just a bit.

As far as memories to work with, Hermione had offered her childhood ones, and since she did I'd be willing (if Harry was, and he was) to provide her the edited version of his they approved of - one completely without the Dursleys. It would be understandably short, but what was left of Harry's childhood once you'd eliminated the moments starring ugly relatives was a heck of a lot of cleaning, gardening and cooking, and all of those were useful skills.

Actually, the kid should be a downright genius at both Potions and Herbology once he had the Dursley associated trauma pulled out of his skull, as those skills were all closely related to ones he'd mastered beautifully as his chores. So, once he no longer suffered from abuse-originating distaste of those two subjects, they should come quite naturally to him.

I pointed out you could successfully use those practical domestic skills as a base to which you could later add Potions and Herbology masteries. And if then on top of that we add Hermione's excellent muggle grades, which would include such things as math and history, that was already about half of the Hogwarts subjects they could reasonably expect to excel on.

And why stop with their childhoods? I was perfectly comfortable with having both youngsters learn about their first Hogwarts year through the other's eyes, including Moria and her mother in on that as well. Hermione could use the flying experience while Harry and Moria could use everything else, while the mother could see through their eyes those experiences they'd had and thus understand her children better.

Hey, if Hermione, with not yet seven years of education, could erase the minds of her parents and send them to live in Australia as different people, I, who was considerably more of an artist and specialist in this field than she, could include Harry as a brother in the Granger family - particularly with their willing cooperation, offering both help and suggestions.

Suggestions which had quickly overwhelmed my own small scale plans. But, once they'd asked if I could handle the levels of detail and change they were proposing; and since I didn't feel like lying I admitted I could, which they took to naturally mean that I would.

So my cooperation simply got assumed as they took their plans and ran, going wild with all of the wonderful things they would be doing.

For my part, it was a bit like being a movie director. I could cut and splice using scenes that had already been filmed, make alterations or add an actor who hadn't been there before. But I could not, as Miranda Granger suggested, make her a doctor where none among us had that information available to be spliced in. Although I'd be 'editing in place', changing all of those memories they'd chosen while they were still in their heads, as a means of concealing my own trick of memory stealing.

A complete makeover and combined life quickly got selected by the Granger team, one where Harry was simply one of their kids, left on their doorstep instead of the Dursleys. I could include all of those lessons that he'd learned in the Dursley household, namely how to cook and clean and garden like a professional (all useful life skills), and, once that subject got raised, even share them out, so Miranda and her daughters recalled those experiences all working the kitchen, house and garden together, and so have those same skills themselves.

But, once what little good that could be salvaged from the Dursley moments had all been saved, it was going to be a very Granger life all told.

Taking Hermione's childhood memories as a template we could edit those for Harry's use. He would be forgetting the Dursley family entirely (small loss, I felt) and becoming a twin to Hermione Granger in most meaningful ways. He would go to her schools, read all of the same books, have the same lack of friends (this was something I would have changed, but had no material for splicing new parts in to cover those holes) and grow up with her family.

Then I'd make those same changes over to them so they'd recall them too.

Yes. I was certain that by doing this we could erase the lingering Dursley harm from Harry's mind and leave him substantially stronger than he'd ever been before. Also, the Grangers seemed determined to jump in to it as well.

Still, my jaw dropped a little they were all so eager to do this to themselves.

Some of those splices would be easy, others hard, and countless minor alterations had to be made along the way so that Harry and Hermione would have the closely paralleling lives of brother and sister rather than each one trying to inhabit the same skin. What this meant was I had to put in a spot for his toothbrush, rather than both using hers, two beds in the same room (there was, unfortunately, no other way to do it but to have them share a bedroom, as this WAS her childhood I was duplicating, and they didn't have a spare room in the house) with two dressers and a split closet, but I felt it all well within my abilities. Because, you see, I WAS rather gifted with memory charms. And, for the most part, this was a simple copy and paste job.

There were complications, but nothing I could not handle.

I could even get creative, like adding Dudley back in as a neighborhood bully, and one they'd had to run from on occasion before he'd moved away last summer. That gave them vital evasion skills that could be of use later, and a touch of talent at track and field, should they ever use it.

Bolstering Harry's first year of life memories of his parents gave us extra material for splicing in, adding family traditions, events, holidays and useful habits to the Granger scrapbook they all decided to share.

Once the basic outline had been decided and the specifics worked out for each person we were ready to try it. Although I had to obtain by rush delivery a much larger pensieve so we could hold copies of their original pasts should something go wrong with the changes.

We could restore from backup this way if anything went wrong. And, should Harry ever choose to review his past, he could do it without losing all that he was now getting. Just watching it shouldn't give the same emotional trauma.

I also, quite secretly, saved a copy of the new Granger past for myself, as Harry's flying experience filled a gap I still had in my own abilities, and all of the cooking and cleaning and so on were actually superior to my own skills in those departments. Plus, and I had to feel a little guilty admitting this, if I could recall Hermione's first year of Hogwarts, I'd be at least three times as far along in my own training to make up for Lockhart's regrettable lack of attention paid to subjects the first time.

I had each person write a lengthy letter, addressed to themselves, about who they were before this change, and what things had been altered.

Ted, who came back with the lunches, absolutely refused to try this, and felt that we were all mad. I left it to them to decide, and after arguing with his wife Ted declared they could do it if they liked. The Granger girls, from their mother to youngest daughter, were all in favor of participating, and having received permission not just from them, but from their father, to try it, we all sat down to begin the changes.

Dora watched to make sure that nothing could interrupt, as once started this was not going to be easily halted. Due to the extent of the alterations they requested, I'd had to abandon my plans to do this one tiny piece at a time, as it was far better with this big a change to get it all done in one mass lump. Otherwise their minds would be trying to reconcile different bits and would corrupt both portions.

This way, all in one sum, while more intense was actually safer.

We started with Harry, and I began my wand work on his mind. Then, having done what we'd intended to do, woke him and allowed all of the girls to question him. Satisfied by the results, and the change was remarkably satisfactory, I took the daughters aside one by one and repeated this operation, finishing off with the mother after checking each person at the conclusion of her session.

All went well.

Finding everything stable and of good report, we adjourned to lunch.

I quickly discovered that, as with any such major project, there were unseen problems that arose rather quickly. I was Harry's guardian. Not ten minutes before I had been his salvation out of an awful situation, and while we did not know each other well as yet, still we'd liked and respected one another.

Harry was now one of the Grangers. Although he'd never dropped the Potter name he now felt like one of that family, and they were treating him like one. He felt like he had a strong and friendly, positive relationship with them, and the mother and daughters were treating him the same way in turn.

And, well, if one person acts like a friend to the other, and the other does too, that pretty much makes them friends, or in this case mostly family.

Ted and I quickly joined each other in feeling left out by the new dynamic. I, being more flexible about such things, quickly adopted the role of 'rich uncle' and started charming my way back into their lives. Ted, on the other hand, received a few kindly reproofs from his wife over the next week about being so cold to Harry, as Harry earnestly tried to please him and gain some of his approval and affection, to which he felt he was a natural heir.

I could see danger lurking there, but this was working out more or less exactly as the group had requested. I was on the losing side of the exchange, but could put up with it. I'd lost a great deal of influence over Harry, but the kid was substantially healthier and happier, not to mention smarter as his 'Hermione side' had helped him develop his natural intelligence much better.

The group was, as we discovered over the near future, better in nearly every measurable way. Hermione and Moria were more confident and outgoing with their 'brother' there watching over them, and the circle of sibling friends had expanded by one, so there was more interaction and options available. While Harry grew into his older brother responsibilities with ease, taking over some portion of his dutiful and loyal nature and applying that to his responsibilities as eldest boy and older sibling. But in return the girls gave him their love and with that love... he bloomed.

Harry started to mature into a true leader right before our eyes.

If I wasn't stuck out shivering in the cold by this I'd say it was all to the good. But, seeing as the cost was all, or mostly, paid by me, I could live with it. Plus they were all so happy together at this point I could hardly do anything about it without feeling like an utter cad.

Ted grinned and bore it patiently when his wife chided him to be nicer to their adopted son (and what was up with Ted lately?). I was now more or less an extra to the Expanded Granger Family but Dora was able to work herself in quite well once I'd expanded her duties to include all of the Granger children.

It was the only way she could do her job anymore. As it was, Harry could not accept her help unless it was general across the family. So Tonks became like an assistant to Miranda, in that she started to help out with all the kids.

And, she fell into that with such natural enthusiasm and skill that I began to envy her the relationship she soon began to share with them. But again, we got a far better Harry out of the bargain (and, for that matter, a better and stronger Hermione as well), so I swallowed my pains and made no complaint.

If I could only arrange for them to have 'the mother's blood' I could stand back from this with a wide grin on my face and call it a job well done. Already I was a mere teacher along on what was very much a family vacation, and despite my charm I began to feel as though I were intruding.

We went together on a tour of the old Italian villa where lived the fan I had posted a letter to earlier that day, and that helped, as I was able to play guide along with my long term pen pal, and by this feel somewhat bought back in to the social equation.

I had actually mailed this man because he worked at the Italian Ministry, and at one point I took him aside briefly to probe for details as to the process by which underage magic use gets discovered. He gave me a few clues, but nothing concrete, and I left feeling that I was failing rather often lately.

Needing to refresh my batteries with some form of success, I took my leave of the family briefly when they went out shopping and began to play with Point Me charms.

Minerva, or excuse me, Minnie had told me about that sub captain smuggling magical supplies to England during the Second World War, and I had a touch of unresolved curiosity about that. She'd said that shipment included supplies of a nature desperately needed during the war, including bundles of potions supplies, bales of dragon hide, and precious invisibility cloaks.

Well, I could use some of that myself, to sell if nothing else, as I'd run up quite a bill buying what I'd felt to be essential equipment, my side of the extra special camping gear and so on, things that I had not billed to Albus because they were for my own use, even though Harry got his own copies of we did.

So, a simple Point Me to the body of the captain she'd named.

The point went out to sea.

Intrigued, I went by floo a couple hundred miles up the coast and did the point again. Then, having accosted a vendor to show me where I was on a recently purchased map, then confirming that from an officer, I got an old sailor to help me mark my position on a nautical map, then mark the bearing on it.

I didn't know this stuff, but I was social, and so could talk to people who did. That was how I did a lot of covering up for my weaknesses.

Returning quickly to my group in Italy, I went down to the docks and got the same help from another experienced sailor, leaving me with a position out at sea triangulated where those two lines crossed.

I was in a shop buying Gillyweed the next moment.

It was exciting, and it felt good to be doing something useful and productive after what felt like a string of failures. Oh, I knew getting Harry integrated with the Grangers was actually a stunning success, it was my being left out of it that hurt so much. But I wasn't about to let my feelings get in the way of his growth and recovery, so, on a personal level, it was a loss.

And I wanted to be succeeding again. It kept me charged, and if I got bogged down too much by defeat I'd move so slowly about my tasks that I'd never accomplish anything. Or at least, not enough to keep all of us alive.

Which, call me selfish, but I felt keeping all of us alive was important.

So, it was out to sea with me. I packed up my tent (the others were all using Harry's now) and hired a boat to take me to a set of coordinates. They did so with a fair amount of speed, and I went down to dive for treasure.

Using Point Me charms it was too easy, but by this time I was excited to be moving and doing again, so the lack of sporting difficulty did nothing to phase me. My spirits flew high as I discovered the wreck, done to death by strafing from planes while caught on the surface, probably done while trying to run fast while under cover of night.

A lot of subs got sunk that way.

It told the story of a daring captain who took a risk and paid for it, a far more common story than Hollywood would have us believe. The man took a gamble and lost, hoping to evade and yet ultimately he'd paid when another person had guessed his movements (or just stumbled across him, they did a fair amount of random patrolling).

There were thousands of stories like it, told and untold in the annals of war. In a game of Cat and Mouse, sometimes you are the cat, others the mouse.

And sometimes, the most dangerous times, you were both.

The sub was at a good depth. Starting on the surface it had sunk slowly as far as such things go, and ended up shallow, where microscopic life had turned it into a reef in short order, but it was still recognizably a sub.

Still, the magic of gillyweed seemed to account for depth as easily as breath as I swam easily down, seeing just fine despite the low light, and there were times, like this one, I had to bless Rowling's lack of detail. Yes, a mouthful of this herb and you swam better than most fishes, all because she found it convenient!

Well, I wasn't arguing about that now. I found it useful to the extreme.

The sub looked surprisingly intact. Hull plates punctured and gaps torn open as water rushed inside, but all in all the damage was small enough I had to use a hatch to get inside.

The next half hour was spent removing bodies from within. Some trapped deep inside when it started to go down, others hit by the bullets that sunk her (the worst of that being in the conning tower, where it looked like near the full bridge crew had gotten riddled), or crushed by falling objects when the sub listed to one side, but overall not too many. Escape hatches were open, and life boats missing, so it looked like many had survived her fall into the deep.

I had learned the Levicorpus spell, as one of those more frequently used in the series and I'd had a time once before when I would've like to have it. Now it came in handy as I removed the bodies from their posts, or wherever they'd died, and transferred them outside. Only then did I go exploring.

The hold was stuffed with magical paraphernalia, all secured down hard with belts and charms, now defunct. But the crates and chests they had all been packed in to conceal them from dock inspectors seemed to be mostly intact, and the waterproof charms laid down a few decades before were still holding.

Excellent.

Now, on a direct hit from a torpedo or depth charge most everything there would have shattered, and the charms failed at once. But that wasn't what had happened. The sinking was almost gentle contrasted with some possible options. They could have refloated it if they'd had the time and equipment.

Some chests had burst and the contents reduced to unidentifiable sludge, others had lost their protective charms to the years and I'd hate to say what had probably happened to what was inside them, but overall much of what I saw was intact, and thus recoverable.

So, I set about recovering it. I could check on the contents later. Only after I'd freed the first chest did I realize my folly. I had magical storage available to me, but not enough to store this amount, and certainly not something that I could open underwater!

Chagrined, I put the chest back in its place and resecured the straps. I didn't even know enough to have the ability to renew the waterproof charms!

I was a sorry mess of a wizard, wasn't I?

Newly chastened, I left the sub and returned to my boat, which I had take me back to shore. Whereupon I immediately set up my tent and dove into my chest, searching for a certain vial of memories, one of a seagoing witch who'd used a ton of useful enchantments and marine type spells. It was one of Lockhart's early yet unconverted attempts at books, and quite a find. I set about absorbing them at once.

The next day I'd not only be back at the submarine, I'd know how to repair it and salvage contents I'd felt unsalvageable. That sea witch had been a truly remarkable woman, and I felt privileged to be heir of her spells and watery expertise. Her having died old and childless, I was probably the only one who knew them to this extent as well.

So, on consideration, if Voldemort ever did come back, hiding underwater was now not looking to be so bad of an option.

I could be comfortable down here.

Needing neither gillyweed nor a lift from a boat to take me there, I took a little time to explore the sub. Doing so I'd found the reason the crew had quit military service and turned to smuggling: chests upon chests of gold. They'd gotten paid well for something, and since it'd been wizards they'd dealt with it was gold they'd been paid in. A fortune, even by wizarding standards.

Heck, this sub captain had to be wealthier than I was before he went down. And, to judge by the jewel-topped cane I'd found in his cabin, as arrogant as any Malfoy as well.

Actually, judging by the lack of decay on the wood of that implement, I could be mistaken. It was certainly magical not to have rotted clear through at this depth, and I'd wear a pink tutu or a kick me sign if it had a spell on it I needed to use. I'd prefer not to, of course, but I knew myself well enough to say I'd do whatever I had to do when it came right down to it.

And the Lockhart side of me found the cane adorably fashionable.

Disgusting.

Well, I buried the bodies in a cemetery on an island nearby, then sent a letter on to the Japanese embassy in Italy saying they'd been identified, and asking what they wanted done with them, shipped back to their families or whatever it was they did in these cases.

Then, leaving enough money to make sure the bodies were cared for, I took the sub and ran, figuring I could park it somewhere and fix it up in my spare time. But even so, the lady witch whose skills I'd inherited had needed neither oars nor sails to move a ship, so I didn't need an engine, and it was easier to let the boat haul the cargo than use methods I didn't yet have. So I just sat on the prow like a figurehead and prepared to point where I wanted it to go.

Only to discover that I had no idea where to move it.

Okay, this was turning out to be a bad week for me as far as avoiding feelings of being pathetic.

I left the sub pretty much where I had found it and returned to shore to join the Grangers for dinner. I actually lucked out by doing so. Ted was down in a hotel bar, and Harry actually approached me for a teacher/student thing as he'd been failing to get help from his 'dad' on the problem.

"What... what would you think of a person who... killed another person?" Harry asked of me delicately, acting shy, and I perceived that he didn't think I knew about the Quirrel incident.

His sisters and mother were looking on in concern, as apparently their attempts to offer him comfort on this issue had failed, as his mind was still in tumult, troubled over a deed no one had ever helped him deal with before.

I found it a good sign that he was dealing with issues and not repressing, as before. That meant he was less messed up than he was before, and he was seeking to resolve those bits that remained. Good signs all around. Also, that he felt secure enough to ask me, but then, I WAS to be his Defense teacher, so this was my job, I supposed.

I crouched down to speak on a level to him, putting my arms around to hold him by his sides, smiling as I spoke. "The simple answer was you did right to kill that man. I heard about the event with Quirrel, and he was assisting the spirit of Voldemort, who had murdered and tortured thousands. So no one thinks you did any wrong in stopping Quirrel from bringing that man back, even though you had to kill him to do it. In fact, they celebrate your heroism for doing so very brave and difficult a thing."

I pulled up a seat and planted myself on it before resuming eye contact. "So you have the simple form. Here is the long one, as there are a few rules you need to know about the topic should you ever find yourself in such a situation again. God, who gave us life, also provided rules for when to take it away. The first is, obviously, 'Thou Shalt Not Kill' and covers most situations. However, like most rules, there are exceptions. The one you need to know is 'Inasmuch as ye are not guilty of the first offense, neither the second, Thou Shalt Not Permit Thy Blood To Be Shed By Thine Enemies.' We are taught to defend our lives, and our families, even unto bloodshed. In practical terminology, this means that if you are at war, it is okay to kill people on the other side. It also means it's okay to defend yourself if attacked, either in war or out of one."

I sighed, looking down, then up, and biting my lower lip. "Ideally, you want to take care to restrict yourself to needful targets, even in cases of war. You can compare it to a surgeon cutting off someone's leg. Doing it because he thinks it's fun is wrong, but doing it because the leg is gangrenous or torn apart by shrapnel and must be removed to save the person's life is correct. You always want to do the least harm to reach your goals, always, and then you want to double check and make certain you have righteous goals, too."

More firmly now, I met him in the eyes. "It all comes down to this: God judges us by the intents of our hearts. The idea that 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions' is Catholic doctrine, and is not correct. You won't find it anywhere in the scriptures. They made it up long after they stopped claiming any revelation from God. So, when a question arises, 'when is it appropriate to kill someone', ask yourself this question first, 'Would you shed their blood if they would leave you alone?'"

I considered his face carefully. He was soaking this up. "Most of the time the answer to that is 'No.' If they'd leave you alone, you'd be happy to leave them alone. In those cases, when you bore them no ill will yet they approach and start a conflict, defend yourself and feel no wrong. But try to hold it to whatever level they'd been trying to do to you. So if a bully punches you, don't go shooting a deadly curse back at him. On the other hand, if a gang starts to corner you, well, people die from gang attacks and you have no clue beforehand where or if they are going to stop, so fire away. It would be too late to judge their intentions later. So use whatever force you feel is needful. Similarly, if a person attacks your sister, or family, or any other person you are protecting, defend that person as you would yourself."

I drilled him with a far more concerned gaze. "But if the answer is ever 'Yes, I hate them and would hunt them down to hurt them even if they left me alone' then your emotions are involved. Step back and consider the issue carefully, because you have stepped onto mirky ground. If you are prepared to kill just because you are upset: Don't, because you'd be in the wrong. If, however, you are upset because of a terrible crime they'd committed..."

I took in a large breath, and then let out a sigh, breaking eye contact. "We are also instructed to kill as punishment for certain crimes. Rape is among them, and that has in past times been interpreted to cover acts of extreme brutality, torture among them. But most of the time it is better to leave those to the law to prosecute, as they frown on vigilantes of any sort. So best to avoid trouble with them and not go there in the first place. Report it and let them take care of everything."

"But," I gave a careful shrug. "There are also times when the law is corrupt and controlled by those who pervert justice for their own ends. Once again, that is mirky ground, and far better to avoid going there when or if you can. But if it ever comes to pass that the law is criminal and one protected by it approaches you to do violence, well, the rule there is: 'shoot, shovel, and shut up.' And it's not something any of us ever want to do, so avoid going there if possible. Ultimately, the rule on killing has always been decided by one dividing line, as posed by the question 'Am I trying to destroy, or prevent destruction?' If you are trying to preserve life and prevent destruction by destroying a source of destruction, fire away. If not: Don't."

I patted him on both shoulders, then released him and stood up, finishing off my speech looking down on him fondly. "Again, we hope it never comes up that you have to enter a deadly situation a second time. But you did right to kill Professor Quirrel. You meant him no harm until he first attacked you. Also, the wizarding world is still at war against Voldemort, so you are okay on that point too. He was a needful target, a criminal several times over and a known, even infamous, destroyer of the lives of others. So when you stopped him you saved many lives, thus preventing further destruction."

I smiled, warm and accepting. "In short, you did good, kid."