The Hidden Hero

That night, the school was thrown into a panic when, after the Halloween feast, the killer Sirius Black tried to sneak into Gryffindor Tower. No one could understand how he had been able to enter Hogwarts. Luckily, however, he did not have the password and the Fat Lady in the portrait guarding the entrance to the Tower refused to admit him. In retaliation, he had slashed at the portrait and it hung in tatters. The poor Fat Lady had fled to other paintings for safety.

Dumbledore and the teachers searched Hogwarts but were unable to find Black. He had disappeared as mysteriously as he had been able to enter. The students all slept in the Great Hall, in sleeping bags Dumbledore had conjured for them.

Everyone assumed that Black had mistakenly believed Harry Potter had been sorted into Gryffindor and had been trying to break into Gryffindor Tower in order to kill the boy. To protect him, the Slytherin prefect was assigned to sleep next to Harry 2. Harry looked over at the boy before he crawled into his own sleeping bag. Was Harry 2 paler than usual? Was he regretting having stolen the identity of the Boy-Who-Lived now? It wasn’t all fun and games, Harry thought.

Harry noticed Crabbe and Goyle standing next to Harry 2, flexing their muscles and cracking their knuckles, as if to impress an absent Black with their strength. Harry doubted that Sirius Black would be impressed by two thirteen year-olds who barely knew what end of their wand to hold. Draco had his wand in his hand, as if expecting Black to jump out at them at any moment. He seemed very skittish. When the prefect came up behind him unexpectedly, he jumped a foot in the air.

Lights went out, and the students slowly dropped off to sleep. Harry, however, stayed awake well into the night, his wand gripped tightly in his own hand, hidden within his sleeping bag. He knew that everyone thought that Sirius Black had just made a mistake in targeting Gryffindor Tower. But, he worried that Sirius Black knew what he was doing. Perhaps, Black had some way of knowing that the other boy was a pretender and that he, the real Harry, was in Gryffindor. Was he the real target, after all? When he finally fell asleep, his dreams were uneasy and he woke feeling unrefreshed.

Dumbledore allowed the students to return to their dorms the next morning. While Harry still worried about Sirius Black, he realized that there wasn’t anything he could do about that threat. He would have to hope that Dumbledore and the other teachers had strengthened the protections that would keep Black out of the school. On the other hand, the Dementors were something he could do something about. Or, at least, he hoped so.

So, the next day after class, Harry approached Professor Lupin to ask him to teach him how to protect himself against Dementors. Lupin agreed to try to teach the young boy the Patronus Charm, although he warned that it was a very difficult spell and many wizards couldn’t master it. Worse yet, Lupin couldn’t start lessons until after the Christmas break.

Harry borrowed some books from the library and focused on learning the theory behind the Patronus Charm and practicing the wand movement behind the spell. He hoped that, when Professor Lupin was able to teach him the charm, he would learn it more quickly if he had done some studying beforehand. Harry was determined to learn the spell and conquer his fear of the Dementors. They were ruining his life! The week before Christmas, there was another Hogsmeade scheduled trip but there was no way Harry could go past the Dementors to visit the village. He was as trapped in Hogwarts as any student without a pass.

Harry moped around Gryffindor Tower in the days before the trip, trying not to let his disappointment upset everyone else. However, he noticed that Fred and George glanced at him from time to time, and then commenced whispering furiously to each other.

The day of the Hogsmeade trip, Harry was sitting by himself in the Gryffindor common room, sadly trying to concentrate on one of his textbooks. Ron, Hermione, and his other friends had already left for Hogsmeade, promising to bring him back treats once more.

“Hey, Mark!” Fred snuck up behind him and slapped him on the back. Harry jumped and whirled around.

Fred and George were grinning at him widely. Looking at them suspiciously, Harry said, “Hi. How come you’re not at Hogsmeade?”

“We’ve come to give you a Christmas present before we go,” said Fred.

George nodded. “We owe you for saving Ginny last year.”

“And we decided that your need is greater than ours.”

Fred pulled an old piece of blank parchment from his cloak and touched it with his wand, saying, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

At once, a map of Hogwarts and grounds started to form on the parchment. Harry’s mouth dropped open as he saw tiny bubbles moving along the map, marking where everyone in Hogwarts was at that moment. Above the map, was written,

Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs

Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present

THE MARAUDER’S MAP

Fred pointed to passages that Harry had never known existed. He traced one with his finger and said, “This passage, here, goes right into Hogsmeade. There are seven in all, but Filch knows about these four,” he pointed them out. “This one is caved in and this one has the Whomping Willow over the entrance. But this one goes into the cellar at Honeydukes.”

“And you won’t have to go past any Dementors,” said George.

Harry blushed. He hated that everyone knew of his weakness.

Fred continued. “When you’re done using it, just tap the map with your wand,” he did so, demonstrating, “and say ‘Mischief managed’.” The map erased itself and the parchment became blank once more. He folded the map and handed to Harry, who took it reverently.

“Thank you!” Harry breathed. “It’s fabulous!”

Fred and George nodded, satisfied with Harry’s reaction. “See you in Honeydukes,” said George, winking.

Harry immediately went to the third floor corridor to find the statue of the hunchbacked, one-eyed old witch. Reading the map, he saw the bubble, bearing the name “Mark Twist” tapping the witch and whispering “dissendium.” He did the same and the hump opened wide enough for him to enter. He slid down a stone slide, into a passageway that led, after about an hour, to Honeydukes.

As Harry walked quickly through the tunnel, he had plenty of time to think. He was very excited about visiting Hogsmeade. He had been so disappointed last time to have missed the trip. While he had permission to be in the village, he would have to avoid any teachers or prefects. He didn’t want them asking him how he had gotten there, when they knew that he wouldn’t go past the Dementors. He didn’t want anyone guessing that there was another exit out of Hogwarts. Not only didn’t he want this passageway sealed or watched by Dementors, he didn’t want anyone to learn about the existence of the Marauder’s Map.

What a great gift! He couldn’t wait to study it more closely. He was just lucky that the map hadn’t realized his name was really Harry Potter. It was amazing how deep his magical concealment had seeped. The school admittance list had listed him as Mark Twist, owls looking for Harry Potter couldn’t find him, and even this magical map didn’t realize who he was.

Curious, Harry looked to see if there was an unfamiliar name in the Slytherin common room. Sure enough, there was a bubble with the name “Andrew Danirson”. Ah ah! The imposter! Harry smiled slightly. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt better knowing the name of the other boy. Harry mused to himself that Andrew didn’t realize how lucky he was that the twins had apparently never noticed that the map showed no bubble for “Harry Potter”. But, then, why would they look? The twins would have only been interested in making sure that the coast was clear whenever they were up to some prank.

By the time Harry arrived at Hogsmeade, he was frozen. The tunnel was quiet cold. He had forgotten to grab a warm cloak before setting off. He had been too excited to think clearly. Luckily, when Harry climbed out of the tunnel into the Honeydukes cellar, he was able to thaw out. He saw Hermione and Ron in the main shop and enjoyed watching their looks of amazement when they saw him.

They demanded to know how he had gotten there and, in whispers, he explained about the Marauder’s Map. Ron was annoyed that his brothers hadn’t thought to give him the map. Hermione had wanted him to turn it in to Professor McGonagall so that the teachers would be aware that there might be other entrances into Hogwarts that Sirius Black could use. Harry and Ron were able to convince her that this was not likely because Dementors were patrolling Hogsmeade every night. Not completely satisfied, Hermione agreed to keep quiet.

The three friends spent an enjoyable time in Honeydukes, with Ron and Hermione pointing out the various treats for Harry’s perusal. Since it was so cold outside, the friends decided to go next to The Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer. They took a table at the back of the room where Harry kept a sharp eye out for teachers. When Harry saw Professors McGonagall and Flitwick enter, followed by Hagrid and Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, he dove off his seat and ducked under the table.

Oh, no! Professor McGonagall would be sure to ask him how he had gotten into Hogsmeade, if she saw him. As his head of house, she knew that Harry wasn’t expecting to be in Hogsmeade because he wouldn’t go past the Dementors. Oh, well. If she did see him, he would say that he been able to go past them after all, and just hope that she didn’t check with Filch, who had been checking off which students had passed through the gates.

Worrying about being found, and thinking of an excuse in case he were discovered, Harry almost missed what the adults were discussing. Madam Rosmerta, the proprietress of The Three Broomsticks, had been invited to join Fudge and the teachers. When Harry heard Madam Rosmerta mention the name Potter, he listened more carefully.

“Yes,” agreed Professor McGonagall. “It’s a shock that Lily and James’ son ended up in Slytherin.”

“I wish I could like the boy more,” said Professor Flitwick, honestly.

“What do you mean?” demanded Madam Rosmerta.

“Well, he’s not very polite and he seems very cold to the other students.”

Hagrid objected. “He’s had a tough life, he has. He’ll warm up.”

Cornelius Fudge chimed in. “It’s true, he did have a tough life. Worse than the papers reported.”

The other adults leaned forward to hear, and Fudge dropped his voice. Harry leaned forward too and held his breath. “You know that the Daily Prophet reported that Harry was abused by his relatives? They don’t know the half of it. We tried to cover it up, as much as we could or there was sure to have been muggle killings in response. But, that boy was seriously hurt by his aunt and uncle. It’s no wonder that he is stand-offish now. It’s a miracle he’s not a raving lunatic, the way they treated him.”

Hagrid started to cry. Professor McGonagall turned pale. Under his table, Harry let out a shaky breath himself. He didn’t want to remember his past. It made him feel sick inside.

Fudge continued. “And, now, the boy just can’t catch a break. What with Sirius Black after him.”

“Is it certain that Black is still after the boy?” asked Flitwick.

“Yes. He’s been spotted near here.”

McGonagall said sadly, “I can’t believe that Sirius Black went over to the dark side. He and James Potter were like brothers.”

Fudge nodded. “Yes, he was best man at James’ marriage to Lily. He was Harry’s godfather. Can you believe it? And, he’s the one who told You-Know-Who where the Potters were hiding!”

Hagrid roared with rage. The other customers looked up in alarm and there was silence in the room. He was shushed by Fudge, Flitwick and McGonagall. After a few minutes, when it seemed that it was safe again, the other customers started talking.

“What happened?” Rosmerta asked the Minister, eager to hear more.

Fudge continued. “The Potters knew that You Know Who was after them. They used a Fidelius Charm to hide their whereabouts, and Sirius Black was the Secret-Keeper. There was no way You Know Who could have found them if Sirius Black hadn’t served them up on a silver platter. He didn’t realize, of course, that little Harry Potter would defeat You Know Who.”

Hagrid moaned in his drink, “I met Black the night I collected Harry from Lily an’ James’ house. Jus’ got him outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across his forehead, an’ his parents dead…an’ Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin’ motorbike he used ter ride. He wanted to take the boy, sayin’ he was his godfather. But, I told him no, because Dumbledore said the boy was to go ter his aunt and uncle’s.”

“Just think,” mused Rosmerta. “If Black had been able to take Harry, the boy wouldn’t have been placed with those awful relatives of his.”

The others nodded their heads morosely. “In other circumstances, he could have petitioned for custody even though he wasn’t formally named as guardian in a will,” explained Fudge. “Since he was Harry’s godfather, and a wizard, the Wizengamot might have awarded him custody. Certainly, I don’t think Harry’s relatives would have fought to keep the boy.”

“Why didn’t the Potters name him as Harry’s guardian in a will?” Flitwick wondered.

“James didn’t want to admit the possibility that he and Lily could be killed. The arrogance of youth! We can’t forget just how young he and Lily were when they …” McGonagall’s voice trailed away in sadness.

“As it turned out, it wouldn’t have mattered,” said Fudge. “With Black in Azkaban, Harry’s guardianship would have reverted to his relatives anyway.”

Hagrid, reminded of Sirius’ treachery, thumped his ale on the table and muttered angrily, “And, I comforted the murderin’ traitor!”

The other adults shook their heads in sympathy.

“But, Black was caught by the Ministry the day after the Potters were killed, wasn’t he?” asked Rosmerta.

“Yes. When Black tried to escape, he was confronted by another friend. You remember Peter Pettigrew?”

“He was that dull little boy who was always tagging around after Potter, Black and Remus Lupin,” McGonagall reminded Madam Rosmerta. “They called themselves the Marauders.”

Harry gasped, and Ron kicked him.

“That’s right,” said Fudge. “Pettigrew cornered Black. Black blew up the street, killing a dozen muggles and obliterating Pettigrew. Only a finger was left. And Black just stood there laughing. Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol. He’s been in Azkaban ever since. That is, until he escaped,” he said miserably.

“Is it true that he’s mad?” asked Madam Rosmerta.

Fudge sighed. “I wish I could say he was. But, on my last visit to Azkaban, he made perfect sense. He asked whether he could have my newspaper, if I were finished reading it. It was astounding how little effect the Dementors seemed to have on him – and he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know.”

The adults were quiet for a while and then Professor McGonagall suggested that they head back to the castle. After they had left, and Madam Rosmerta had gone back to serving other patrons, Harry crawled back into his seat. He felt very shaky but neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to notice anything unusual. They were excited about what they had learned but they didn’t realize that the story was personal to Harry.

Ron asked eagerly, “Do you think we should tell Harry Potter about this? Shouldn’t he be told that Sirius Black was his godfather?”

“No!” said Harry sharply. When Ron looked at him in surprise, Harry made an effort to make his voice more casual. “Dumbledore or the Minister would have told him if they thought that was the right thing to do.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. “Yes. If we told him, who knows if he would do something rash, like try to find Black on his own. I don’t like him, but I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“Okay.” Ron was disappointed. He would have liked an excuse to speak with his hero.

Harry bid goodbye to his friends and returned to Honeydukes to take the tunnel back to Hogwarts. The trip back passed in a fog to him. In his mind, he kept turning over and over the story he had heard about how Sirius Black had betrayed his parents. His godfather. Harry knew that being a godparent was considered an honor in the wizarding world. A godparent was responsible for ensuring that the child received a proper magical education in the event that the parents were unable to provide it. And, this was the man who was trying to kill Harry Potter now.

When he remembered that his father had been one of the Marauders, Harry closed his hand on the map in his robe. It gave him a warm thrill to know that his father had touched this parchment years ago. If felt as if, somehow, through the years, his father was speaking to him. It seemed to him to be fate that he, the son of one of the Marauders, had come into possession of the map. He tried not to think that Sirius Black had also had a hand in creating the magical object.

Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower in a haze. He skipped dinner, not wanting to listen to Ron or Hermione talk about the tale they had heard. He pretended that he had gotten a chill during his walk in Hogsmeade and said he wanted to go to bed early. But, he lay in his bed for hours, staring at the ceiling in the darkness. He didn’t answer when his roommates came into the room, letting them think that he had already fallen asleep. And, during the night, when he started to cry, he muffled his cries in his pillow.

*

The next few weeks were very difficult for Harry. No one knew why he was suddenly so quiet and rarely smiled. He found it hard to sleep and harder still to concentrate in class. He received disappointed looks from his teachers on his lack of attention and was given extra homework by Professors McGonagall and Flitwick. He infuriated Professor Snape by misreading the directions on the board to brew a potion to cure warts. Most students would have received no more than a scathing comment for having made such a mistake. But, Snape had come to expect competent work from Mark Twist and was not inclined to accept a substandard effort. So, Harry received his first detention and spent two hours on a sunny Saturday inside the dungeon cleaning cauldrons.

Christmas break helped Harry regain some of his former spirits. While both Ron and Hermione had gone home over break, Harry received holiday gifts from both. He also enjoyed the holiday feast in the Great Hall, with Dumbledore and the other staff who remained at Hogwarts over break. Harry 2 was there as well, but Harry sat far away from him. The two exchanged looks of dislike from across the table from time to time, but didn’t exchange any conversation.

Harry found it oddly enjoyable to watch Dumbledore watching Harry 2. Harry could tell that Dumbledore was worried about Harry 2’s behavior. The boy had been rude to Professor Sprout, had grabbed the food without offering it to anyone else, and had insisted that a first year change seats with him, so that the Boy-Who-Lived could have a seat without the sun shining in his eyes. The headmaster forced a smile and offered crackers to the boy, which the little pretender took without thanking him. The real Harry could tell that there was a strain of worry behind the twinkle in the headmaster’s eyes.

Harry knew it was a petty revenge, but he felt that Dumbledore deserved to have found a Harry Potter that didn’t fit his precious plans for a golden hero. Let him suffer, Harry thought. The headmaster had left Harry at the Dursleys because of the blood protection. He didn’t make sure that the boy was being well cared for. All Dumbledore cared about was making sure that the prophesized vanquisher of Voldemort lived to fight another day. Let Dumbledore worry that Harry Potter was really a big prat. He, the real Harry Potter would someday defeat Voldemort. He was, after all, born to be a hero. But, in the meantime, let Dumbledore worry a bit. He deserved it.

After break, Harry started doing better in classes and both Ron and Hermione commented that the break seemed to have done him well. Hermione was actually looking more strained than Harry. Both Ron and Harry thought she had over-extended herself with the number of classes she was taking. They couldn’t understand how she managed to attend all of her classes, since a number of them had overlapping schedules.

Unfortunately, Ron and Hermione had a serious falling out when Hermione’s cat Crookshanks apparently ate Ron’s rat, Scabbers. The only thing left of the rat was some hair and some blood on Ron’s sheets. Hermione defended her cat, claiming that there was no proof Crookshanks had eaten the rat. Ron was furious with Hermione, since he thought she hadn’t done enough to keep her cat away from Scabbers. The two stopped speaking to each other and Harry felt pulled between the two.

Harry was relieved when his lessons with Professor Lupin started and he was able to avoid having to choose which friend to sit with in the Gryffindor common room. Most nights, Harry spent learning the Patronus Charm with the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, or practicing by himself in an empty classroom what he had learned in a previous lesson. Professor Lupin used a Boggart, which took on the shape of a Dementor, to help Harry learn the charm. The young boy had not been able to produce a full-bodied patronus, but he had managed a silvery cloud that helped muffle the effects of the Dementors.

Harry was impatient with himself but Professor Lupin told him that he should be impressed with what he had been able to accomplish. Even a shadowy patronus was difficult to conjure. But Harry pushed himself harder and harder to conquer the spell. Now that he understood the basics, and could conjure a shadowy patronus, he was sure that he would be able to produce a corporeal patronus if he just tried harder. So, he spent many nights working until curfew, practicing the charm.

One such night, Harry fell into bed exhausted after having practiced the Patronus Charm for hours. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He was awakened by a yell from Ron, “AARRGGHH! NOOOO!”

Harry jumped out of bed, with the wand it was his custom to keep under his pillow, already in his hand. “What’s the matter? What happened?” he asked urgently.

Ron was sitting up in bed, looking terrified. He pointed at the far door. “Black! Sirius Black! With a knife!”

Harry felt as if he had been doused with cold water. He felt the blood drain from his face. He heard, as if from a distance, Dean asking, “You sure you weren’t dreaming, Ron?”

“Look at the curtains! He slashed them with his knife. I tell you, he was here!”

Seamus ran to fetch Professor McGonagall. By this time, Ron and the rest of the Gryffindor House, now wide awake, were waiting in the common room. “Why are you all awake?” she demanded angrily, entering through the portrait hole. “Percy, I expected better of you!”

Percy, the prefect, defended himself. “I didn’t authorize this, Professor!  My brother had a nightmare…”

Ron yelled, “It wasn’t a nightmare! Professor, I woke up and Sirius Black was standing over me, holding a knife!”

“That, that can’t be,” sputtered Professor McGonagall. “How could he get in?”

“Ask him!” said Ron, pointing at Sir Cadogan, the portrait who was substituting for the Fat Lady while she was being repaired. When pressed, Sir Cadogan cheerfully admitted that he had let a man enter Gryffindor Tower. He had had the password and Sir Cadogan had willingly let the killer pass. Neville Longbottom was in disgrace when he admitted that he was the culprit who had written down the week’s passwords on a paper that had somehow ended up in the hands of Sirius Black.

When Professor McGonagall left to alert Dumbledore that Sirius Black had entered the castle again, Hermione threw herself at Ron to give him a hug. “You could have been killed!” she squeaked. Ron awkwardly patted her back.

“It’s okay, Hermione. I’m fine.”

“Ron! You could have been killed and I wouldn’t have gotten a chance to tell you how sorry I am about Scabbers,” she cried.

Ron was relieved when Hermione let him go. “Oh, well -- he was old. You never know. My parents might get me an owl now.”

Hermione smiled weakly at him and they both turned to speak with other students, as other Gryffindors begged Ron to tell them what had happened.

Harry stood quietly off to the side of the room. He was glad that the incident had healed the rift between his friends. But, he was having a hard time concentrating on anything other than the fact that Sirius Black had entered Gryffindor Tower. Had Black discovered that Mark Twist was Harry Potter? Or, was the killer looking for the fake Harry Potter, who was even now probably sleeping peacefully in Slytherin House? What should he do? Should he admit to Dumbledore that he was the real Harry Potter?

No, he thought to himself. What good would that do? Dumbledore couldn’t seem to keep Black out of Hogwarts even thinking that the real Harry Potter was here. What would be different if Dumbledore knew that Mark Twist was the real Boy-Who-Lived? At most, he’d have teachers following him around. He didn’t want that. And, once he admitted who he was, that was it. Never again could he be incognito. He would be the target of any supporter of the Dark Lord, not just Sirius Black.

No, he would say nothing. Having decided this, Harry joined the group of students surrounding Ron and listened with the others as Ron recounted once more how he had awoken to find Sirius Black hovering over him.

The next day, the school was once again in panic mode. Students talked of little else. Time and time again, Harry listened to conversations in which the principal theme was how lucky it was that Sirius Black still didn’t realize that Harry Potter was not in Gryffindor. But, was that true? Harry kept turning the question over in his head.

The Boy-Who-Lived was being treated with more care than ever before. Teachers walked him from class to class. While he looked a little strained with worry, Harry 2 seemed to enjoy the extra attention. He certainly was more bossy than ever.

Ron received his share of attention too. He enjoyed telling the story of Sirius Black standing over him, knife in hand. Harry noticed in amusement that Ron embellished the story with each telling.   

Harry had been worried that the next Hogsmeade trip would be cancelled because of Sirius Black. But, luckily, Dumbledore appeared to believe that the only threat was to Harry Potter, who wasn’t visiting Hogsmeade anyway. So, with wand gripped tightly in his hand, Harry prepared to pass the Dementors guarding the gates of Hogwarts for the final Hogsmeade visit of the year. As he approached the gates, Harry felt the familiar chill start to grip him. He muttered, “Expecto patronum,” and a small, silvery cloud formed in front of him, pushing the cold away.

The Dementor closest to Harry fell back. Harry gained more confidence and his shimmering patronus seemed to become a bit more solid. Another Dementor fell back. Ron patted him on the back, in congratulations. “Well done, Mark!”

Hermione was impressed. “That was really something. Maybe you can teach me that some time?”

Harry smiled. He could see that some of the other students were looking in his direction, impressed. He had now passed safely by the Dementors, so he lowered his wand and his patronus winked out of sight. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Knowing that he had a weapon against the Dementors was empowering. He would keep practicing to make the charm stronger and stronger. Someday, he would be able to cast a corporeal patronus, he promised himself.