No Fortress Is So Strong, Chapter 04
Title: No Fortress Is So Strong
Summary: In 1981, the two Potter sons had their fates switched, and Nicolas Potter became a famous face. But there are those that know the truth, that the real Chosen One was the younger child. The Slytherin. Now, two brothers share a destiny.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Brothers. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes & Caveats: This chapter contains a small amount of violence that may upset some people.
Many, many thanks go to my intrepid team of beta readers: Micah and Salazire, who are thorough and clever and absolutely fabulous.
“When brothers agree, no fortress is so strong as their common life.” ~Antisthenes
Chapter Four: The 1st of September
It was the first of September, and Harry knew that his brother Nick would be getting ready to leave for the station, full of excitement and nervousness.
In the month since Harry had first received a letter from the brother he couldn’t remember, the two boys had exchanged almost daily notes. Nick was bubbling over with enthusiasm, describing his trip to Diagon Alley and how interesting his texts were and how he was so excited to leave the Dursleys. The Dursleys were his and Harry’s foul Muggle relatives; their mum’s sister Petunia, her husband Vernon, and their son Dudley, all of whom Harry had never met.
In contrast, Harry’s notes were much less exciting. Who wanted to know that Harry dreaded starting at yet another new school? That he hated science and was fair at mathematics and loved art? So Harry’s notes were usually encouragement and questions, asking for details about this and that, and once even asking his brother to send him a Galleon, a Sickle, and a Knut so he could see them. The very next letter had been folded around three coins and tied with a small bit of white string.
Once, Nick asked what Harry looked like, and Harry had replied with as much level of detail as he could: black hair, green eyes, pale skin, rectangular glasses and a lightning bolt scar, and asked for the same.
Nick had seemed reluctant, somehow, but Harry hadn’t known why he’d thought that. Something in the scratchy handwriting, perhaps, as Nick described his dark red hair, dark brown eyes, freckles, round glasses, and a scar of his own. Harry thought that if he, Harry, looked like their father James, then Nick must look like their mother Lily.
Harry longed more than anything to see his bright and cheerful older brother in person, and had even contemplated finding his own way to Surrey to do so, but before he could quite work up the courage to vanish for an entire day, September had arrived, and it was too late.
So as Harry reluctantly readied himself for the start of a new school year as a ten year old, he imagined Nick scrambling around to see if he’d forgotten anything, double-checking to make sure his new bottles of ink were safely stowed, pacing for several minutes and then checking everything again.
Sure enough, Nick was almost bouncing out of his skin. It was the first of September and he was leaving the Dursleys to go learn to do magic!
Downstairs, the Dursleys were scowling mightily into their breakfast, which Nick had no desire to eat. They were somehow able to consume their weight in food while seeming to fork in only one bite every half-hour. To Nick, they looked like they were moving in slow motion, and the hour until they were set to leave passed at a crawling pace. Nick had to suppress the urge to wave his wand to see if it could make them move faster.
Finally, though…finally they were ready to go. Nick struggled to the car, dragging his enormous school trunk. He stowed it away and jumped in the car while Uncle Vernon was still fetching his hat, and impatiently bounced one knee as he waited.
The drive seemed agonizingly long and slow, but they reached the station on time, despite the fact that the car had felt like it was crawling the whole way. Nick tumbled out of the car and raced around the back to get his trunk while Uncle Vernon grumbled and went to fetch a trolley, which Nick thought was strangely kind. At least, until Uncle Vernon wheeled his trunk into the station and stopped dead, smiling nastily.
“Where’s your platform, boy?” he asked, grunting with laughter. Nick looked at the platforms, then down at the ticket in his hand, and back up to the platforms. There was a sign over one platform with a big number nine on it, and one with a big number ten on the next one over, but in the middle there was certainly no Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
“Have a good term at school,” Uncle Vernon said, smiling an even nastier smile, and he left without another word. When Nick looked back to see the Dursleys pulling away, he could see that they were all laughing.
Nick stood there for a while, thoughts racing through his mind. Was this all an elaborate prank? he wondered, and clutched at the handle of the trolley until his knuckles turned white.
Thankfully, and to his great joy, a family walked past. The first thing he noticed about the family was their strange way of dressing - the man had on what looked like eighteenth century leggings with a wide, ruffled white shirt. He looked perfectly bizarre, and Nick watched him walk by with his mouth hanging open.
Then he saw something that made him snap his jaw shut and heave his body against the trolley, struggling to hurry after them, because there, on top of the trunk in their trolley, was an owl.
But before he could reach them, they vanished. One after the other, they disappeared right in front of the barrier.
Gaping again, Nick walked slowly up to the very solid looking barrier, took a quick look around to make sure nobody was watching him, and then knelt to look for any clues. He saw nothing though, and stood up to lean against his trunk.
Suddenly from behind him came the snarled words, “Watch it, Mudblood,” and a hard shove to his back. Nick yelped and fell straight through the barrier between platforms nine and ten.
On the first day at his new school, Harry got into his very first fistfight.
It started shortly after he arrived, when he escaped the registration office and was allowed to while away the remaining time before class in the playground area out back. There, he saw the young boy again, the one he’d seen the night Michael and the neighbours had come, at the old burned out lot in the bad part of the neighbourhood.
He was breaking the wings on a small screeching sparrow, one that had probably already been injured.
The angry shrieks resonated with something ugly in Harry, a memory perhaps, and before he’d known what he was doing he was laying the boy out on his back with one hard punch to the jaw.
The other boy didn’t stay down long, however, and was back on his feet and giving as good as he got. He was a dirty fighter, and a fast one, and Harry was hard-pressed to keep up. He was nailed in the mouth once and then on the side of his head, and kicked several times in the legs, but Harry was a quick learner and a tenacious one. He got in a few good hits of his own before they were dragged apart, spitting and snarling at each other.
On the first day at his new school, Harry got into his very first fistfight, and got expelled for it.
Pat was silent during the ride home, so Harry followed his lead while he held an icepack to his bleeding mouth. When they reached the house, Harry saw Michael’s car in the drive.
He sighed and gingerly adjusted the icepack, feeling around in his mouth with his tongue. He figured he’d have a day of swelling and then a lovely bruise.
When the car stopped, Pat jerked the door open and got out abruptly, still silent. Harry sighed again and followed.
Michael was mortified on Harry’s behalf, and angry with Harry himself. Pat refused to speak to any of them and Donna scrubbed angrily in the kitchen.
Harry himself stood there with his mouth swelling up and his entire body aching and listened without rancour as his guardians shouted at him. Then, seeing that it wasn’t making an impact, they changed to gently expressing severe disappointment. Harry wanted nothing so much as to go to sleep and wake up that night when Rocky was to arrive.
Where platforms nine and ten had been mildly full of sombre-clad people hurrying to their boring destinations, Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was chock-full of brightly robed witches and wizards. Nick watched open-mouthed as a boy’s father flicked his wand and the boy’s trunk floated lightly onto the train.
There were owls hooting and cats of every colour winding around and meowing, and students - some in casual clothes, others already dressed in their robes - chattered and laughed and bid their parents goodbye. One particularly large family looked to contain a dozen redheads!
Nick pushed his trolley slowly forward, while taking in his surroundings. In his cage, Rocky hooted loudly at another owl, who amiably returned the greeting. Nick grinned, the little thing bizarrely making him feel much less out of place.
He headed towards the scarlet steam engine, then struggled a little with his large, ungainly trunk before one of the passing older students flicked his wand and floated it up into the train.
“Thanks,” Nick said, turning to the student. He was a little older than Nick himself, tall with dark hair and grey eyes.
“No problem,” the boy said. “I’m Cedric Diggory, third year.”
“Nicolas Potter,” Nick replied, shaking the other boy’s hand. Diggory’s eyes went wide, and they zeroed in on Nick’s scar, making him want to hide his face.
“Goodness,” Diggory said. “You are. Very pleased to meet you.”
“Yes, you too,” Nick muttered, feeling a little uncomfortable.
“If you need anything, go to one of the prefects,” Diggory said helpfully, pointing out a tall student in their black robes with a silver badge pinned to their chest. The badge had an ornate P embossed on it. “They’re here to help.”
“Okay, thanks,” Nick said, grateful for the help.
“Sure. See you around, Nicolas.”
“Bye,” Nick replied, and returned to the train to find a compartment.
He found one in the middle of the train and sat down with his trunk in the middle of the floor. He’d been sitting there for perhaps thirty seconds before the door slid open again, and another student poked their head it. He was slight and pale and had brown eyes and light brown hair that needed a cut.
“Hi,” he questioned, looking uncertain. “Are you Nicolas Potter?”
“Yes,” Nick replied, blinking. The boy’s eyes were focused on his scar.
“Do you mind?” the boy asked, gesturing to a seat. “Everywhere else is full.”
“Go ahead, it’s fine with me,” Nick replied, and the boy came in dragging his trunk. Nick flushed and dragged his own trunk out of the way, and then helped the other boy heave his onto the racks.
“This your trunk?” the boy asked, nodding at the trunk on the floor.
“Yeah,” Nick responded.
“C’mon then,” the boy said, grabbing one handle, and together they got Nick’s trunk stored beside the other in the racks.
“I’m Jonathan Bonham,” the boy stated, bravely sticking out a hand. Nick shook it, bemused. “But most everyone calls me Jon.”
“Most everyone calls me Nick,” returned Nick. “Nice to meet you.”
The words seemed to transform the boy into a smiling friend.
“What house do you think you’re going to be in, Nick?” he asked curiously.
“I don’t know,” Nick said, remembering Professor McGonagall mention something about houses when they went to Diagon Alley. “But no one really knows, do they?”
“Well, not really, but my family have been Ravenclaws and Gryffindors for eight generations, so it’s pretty likely I’ll be one of those. Of the two, I like the sound of Gryffindor best.”
“What are they, again?” Nick wondered. Jon stared at him, confused. “I got raised by my Muggle relatives,” Nick admitted, flushing.
“Oh,” was the reply. “Er, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin,” Jon recited. “Gryffindors are sorted according to courage and chivalry, Ravenclaw to intelligence and book-learning, Hufflepuff to loyalty and hard-work, and Slytherin to cunning and ambition.”
“I’ve no idea,” Nick said truthfully after thinking about it. It was true, he didn’t feel very courageous or smart or cunning or any of it. Maybe Hufflepuff would be best for him.
“Don’t worry,” Jon said with a shrug. “The Hat will put you where you belong.”
“The Hat?” Nick asked blankly.
“The Sorting Hat,” Jon explained. “It’s an ancient magical hat that tells you what House you’re to be in.”
“Oh,” Nick said weakly, feeling vaguely overwhelmed.
While they’d been talking, the train had started on its journey to Hogwarts. Nick eagerly looked out the window when the platform slid away beneath the windows, and Jon fought over beside him and waved frantically at his parents and a little girl that must be his sister.
“Bye, Jane!” Jon shouted, and his family waved back, calling cheerful goodbyes. On either side of them, students hung from windows and did the same, joyously filling the air with their calls as the train whistled and began to chug faster. Then they were around the bend and the platform was gone.
“Your sister?” Nick asked, feeling a sharp pang of longing.
“Yes, Jainalise,” Jon said. “She’s two years behind me. She’ll be Ravenclaw, I just know it.”
“I have a brother,” Nick said, feeling equal parts subdued and proud. “His name is Harry.”
“You have a brother?” Jon asked curiously. “I didn’t know that.”
“He’s a year younger than me,” Nick explained. “Harry James.”
“Oh,” Jon said, not seeming to know what to say to that. Nick sighed quietly.
The two boys filled the time with light chatter and laughter. Midday, a trolley came through, pushed by a plump witch and filled to the brim with magical treats of all sorts. Nick blinked in delight and jumped to his feet, suddenly remembering his lack of breakfast that morning. He pulled his coin purse from his pocket and gave four silver coins and two bronze ones to the woman to buy a dozen Chocolate Frogs, a pair of something called Pumpkin Pasties, a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, some Jelly Slugs, and some giant chocolate balls filled with cream and strawberry filling.
Jon looked flabbergasted when Nick brought his fare back into the compartment. While Nick had been deliberating, Jon had bought a Pumpkin Pasty and a pair of Chocolate Frogs.
Nick flushed a bit.
“Want to share?” he asked, embarrassed, and Jon grinned.
“Yeah,” he said, picking up the box of Every Flavour Beans.
Harry was grounded. According to Pat, that meant no telly, no phone calls, and no walking around the block. Harry was to stay in the house and yard at all times.
Harry didn’t care about that - he would figure something out. He was just glad that no one aside from him knew about Nick and Rocky and the letters that came at midnight.
So Harry spent the rest of the day in his room, waiting for darkness and midnight, his stomach twisting with longing to hear from his brother, to read about his exciting first foray into the Wizarding World and smile at his happiness.
Minute after minute, time moved the slowest it had ever moved.
And Harry waited.
It was dark when the train pulled up to the station. A voice echoed through the entire train, telling them to leave their belongings on the train, that they would be taken to the school for them.
Nick was in his school robes, following Jon off the train and onto the dark platform. High over their heads, an enormous man stood, holding a lantern and shouting.
“Firs’ years!” he bellowed. “Firs’ years over here!”
Nick and Jon struggled their way through the crowd to the man, joining up with dozens of other students their age.
“Tha’ everyone?” the man asked. “Righ’, let’s go! Follow me!”
The first year students stumbled after the much taller man, hurrying to keep up as he led them down a darkened path full of rocks and exposed roots. Nick nearly broke his ankle at one point when he tripped.
As they made their way around the bend, Hogwarts came into view, and Nick forgot about the pain in his ankle and everything else as he took in the breathtaking view of Hogwarts Castle by moonlight, all dark towers and turrets and brightly lit windows. It sat behind a lake, the water of which was still and black and reflecting Hogwarts itself, so that two Hogwarts’ - one upright, one upside down - stared back at the first years. Nick made a soft sound of amazement.
They took boats across the lake, four students in each one. Nick sat with Jon and two other silent first years, a blond girl and a dark-haired boy, as the boat carried them towards the majestic castle.
They glided into an underground cavern and clambered off the boats onto a pebbly shore, then formed lines up to a great oak door. The giant man knocked loudly, and the door opened almost at once.
It was Professor McGonagall, wearing emerald green robes again.
“Firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” the big man said.
“Thank you, Hagrid, I will take them from here,” Professor McGonagall said briskly, and beckoned to the students. They all followed her into a small chamber and then she left them there with instructions to smarten themselves up. Her eyes lingered on Nick’s wild red hair, which he smoothed down self-consciously.
Then they waited, silent and fidgeting.
At last, Professor McGonagall returned to lead them out into an enormous hall. There were four long tables full of students, and a table on a dais for the staff. A sea of eyes stared at the long line of first years as they shuffled their way towards the front of the hall. There sat a tiny stool which was holding up one of the rattiest, filthiest hats Nick had ever seen.
One of the oddest too, Nick thought, as he watched the ugly hat open a mouth-like tear near its brim and begin to sing. The song was lively and bright, and Nick found himself grinning broadly as the Sorting Hat sang about the Houses and the founders and itself. There was a long round of applause when it fell silent, and it bowed to each of the four student tables and went still.
Professor McGonagall approached with a long scroll and unrolled it, calling out a name.
“Aubrey, Leila!”
Leila Aubrey stumbled out of line and sat on the stool as she placed the Hat on her head. There was a moment of expectant silence, and then the Hat shouted out Leila’s new House.
“RAVENCLAW!”
And the Sorting continued.
“Barbary, Antilles!”
“SLYTHERIN!”
“Beamish, Rothsgore!”
“SLYTHERIN!”
“How’d you like that name?” Jon muttered into Nick’s ear, and Nick shook his head, grinning.
“Bell, Katie!”
“GRYFFINDOR!”
And then came, “Bonham, Jonathan!”
Jon looked stark white, as if he were contemplating losing his lunch there on the floor. Nick gave him a shove out of line, and he stumbled up to the stool looking very un-Gryffindor-like.
The Hat deliberated for a moment before shouting,
“GRYFFINDOR!”
Jon, looking much relieved, moved off to join the other new Gryffindors.
They moved through the names. For a moment there was a line of Ravenclaws, Carmichael, Eddie and Chambers, Samuel, and an exceedingly pretty girl called Chang, Cho.
Then Dingle, Harold was sorted into Gryffindor, to delighted whoops from the table. Dorny, Joshua went to Hufflepuff; Edgecombe, Marietta into Ravenclaw.
Gryffindor exploded into cheers once again as Forbisher, Victoria joined their ranks, hurrying to sit beside Harold Dingle and Katie Bell.
Haack, Leanne joined Katie and Victoria in Gryffindor, and then Harper, Lucas went into Slytherin.
“McLaggen, Cormac!”
“GRYFFINDOR!”
“Nantu, Anna!”
“RAVENCLAW!”
“Norton, Millana!”
“SLYTHERIN!”
“Ollerton, Taria!”
“SLYTHERIN!”
“Parkin, Jasmine!”
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
And then, finally…
“Potter, Nicolas!”
Nick stepped forward on trembling legs. Like wind through trees, a hissing whisper spread throughout the hall, almost inaudible. Blushing brightly, Nick dropped onto the stool and shoved the Hat on his head, relieved to block out the sight of the students craning to get a good look at him.
Then a small voice spoke in his ear.
“My my,” the Hat said musingly, and Nick jumped. “Determined, brave, ambitious. Not a bad mind, either, and loyalty in spades. You want to prove yourself to others.”
“Can I be in Gryffindor?” Nick thought, thinking of his friend sitting at the Gryffindor table.
“Are you sure? You would also fit in Slytherin, quite well I might add.”
“But my friend…”
“Very well, but only because you fit in Gryffindor just as well.”
“GRYFFINDOR!”
Nick jumped off the chair and rushed towards the Gryffindor table, who cheered the loudest yet.
Midnight came and went, and Rocky didn’t.
There was no letter from Nick that night.
Chapter Five