Author's Note: as said in the story summary, this is a dual-point-of-departure fic. The second departure point occurs in this chapter. From here on, the story will diverge a lot further from the original storyline than it has so far. :)

As with chapter 87, this chapter has significant overlaps with a chapter in the original (/s/5782108/86/). If you want to skip to the new parts (well, text which is greater than 50% new), search for "Harry was starting to wonder" in the text. There will still be a lot of overlaps with the existing text afterwards, but mixed in with changes – I'm really sorry about that; I know it's confusing, but it was rather hard to avoid. Minor, easy-to-miss divergence pints are noted in the author's note at the bottom of the page.

Warning: in this chapter and the following ones, there will be speculations – and later revelations – as to what might really be going on. This may or may not be (partially) relevant to the plotline of the original. Most of this has been suggested on forums and the like (and I suspect at least half the revelations in FtP will not turn out the same as in HPMoR), but if you do not like reading speculation, you may want to avoid reading on until after the final arc of HPMoR has been published.

CHAPTER 89: UPDATING BELIEFS, PT 1

Thursday April 9th, 1992, 7:02pm

The four of them gathered once more around the ancient desk of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, with its drawers within drawers within drawers, wherein all the past paperwork of the Hogwarts School was stored; legend had it that Headmistress Shehla had once gotten lost in that desk, and was, in fact, still there, and wouldn't be let out again until she got her files organized. Minerva didn't particularly look forward to inheriting those drawers, when she inherited that desk someday – if any of them survived.

Albus Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, looking grave and composed. He had agreed to the meeting without argument, and had remarked that they might as well combine the information session with a discussion about their options. If Harry was to lead the order of the Phoenix when he was older, he might as well get used to it now, mature as he seemed. She'd felt a twinge of pain at that, but hadn't argued, for she knew that this was exactly what the Boy-Who-Lived wanted.

Severus Snape was standing next to the fireplace, hovering ominously like the vampire that students sometimes accused him of pretending to be.

Mad-Eye Moody had been meant to join them, but was yet to arrive.

And Harry...

A boy's small, thin frame, perched on the arm of his chair, as though the energies running through him were too great to allow ordinary seating. Set face, sweaty hair, intent green eyes, and within it all, the jagged lightning-bolt of his never-healing scar. He seemed grimmer, now; even compared to a single week earlier.

For a moment Minerva flashed back to her trip to Diagon Alley with Harry, what seemed like ages and ages ago. There'd been this somber boy inside that Harry, somehow, even then. This wasn't entirely her own fault, or Albus's fault. And yet there was something almost unbearably sad about the contrast between the young boy she'd first met, and what magical Britain had made of him. Harry had never had much of an ordinary childhood, she'd gathered; Harry's adoptive parents had said to her that he'd spoken little and played less with Muggle children. It was painful to think that Harry might have had only a few months of playing beside the other children in Hogwarts, before the war's demands had stripped it all away. Maybe there was another face that Harry showed to the children his own age, when he wasn't staring down the Wizengamot. But she couldn't stop herself from imagining Harry Potter's childhood as a heap of firewood, and herself and Albus feeding the wooden branches, piece by piece, into the flames.

"Prophecies are strange things," said Albus Dumbledore. The old wizard's eyes were half-lidded, as though in weariness. "Vague, unclear, meaning escaping like water held between loose fingers. Prophecy is ever a burden, for there are no answers there, only questions."

Harry Potter was sitting tensely. "Headmaster Dumbledore," said the boy with soft precision, "my friends are being targeted. Draco Malfoy almost died. Hermione Granger has been sent to Azkaban. The war has begun, as you put it. Professor Trelawney's prophecy is key information for weighing up the balance of my hypotheses about what's going on. Not to mention how silly it is – and dangerous – that the Dark Lord knows the prophecy and I don't.

Albus looked a grim question at her, and she shook her head in reply; in whatever unimaginable way Harry had discovered that Trelawney had made the prophecy and that the Dark Lord knew of it, he hadn't learned that much from her.

"Voldemort, seeking to avert that very prophecy, went to his defeat at your hands," the old wizard said then. "His knowledge brought him only harm. Ponder that carefully, Harry Potter."

"Yes, Headmaster, I do understand that. My home culture also has a literary tradition of self-fulfilling and misinterpreted prophecies. I'll interpret with caution, rest assured. But I've already guessed quite a bit. Is it safer for me to work from partial guesses?"

Time passed.

"Minerva," said Albus. "If you would."

"The one..." she began. The words came falteringly to her throat; she was no actress. She couldn't imitate the deep, chilling tone of the original prophecy; and yet somehow that tone seemed to carry all the meaning. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies..."

"And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal," came Severus's voice, making her jump within her chair. The Potions Master loomed tall by the fireplace. "But he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must destroy all but a remnant of the other, for those two different spirits cannot exist in the same world."

That last line Severus spoke with so much foreboding that it chilled her bones; it was almost like listening to Sybill Trelawney.

Harry had listened with a frown. "Can you repeat that?" said Harry.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month –"

"Actually, hold on, can you write that down? I need to analyze this carefully –"

This was done, with both Albus and Severus watching the parchment hawklike, as though to make sure that no unseen hand reached in and snatched the precious information away.

"Let's see..." Harry said. "I'm male and born on July 31st, check. I did in fact vanquish the Dark Lord, check. Ambiguous pronoun in line two... but I wasn't born yet so it's hard to see how my parents could have thrice defied me. This scar is an obvious candidate for the mark..." Harry touched his forehead. "Then there's the power the Dark Lord knows not, which probably refers to my scientific background –"

"No," said Severus.

Harry looked at the Potions Master in surprise.

Severus's eyes were closed, his face tightened in concentration. "The Dark Lord could obtain that power by studying the same books as you, Potter. But the prophecy did not say, power the Dark Lord has not. Nor even, power the Dark Lord cannot have. She spoke of power the Dark Lord knows not... it will be something stranger to him than Muggle artifacts. Something perhaps that he cannot comprehend at all, even having seen it..."

"Science is not a bag of technological tricks," Harry said. "It's not just the Muggle version of a wand. It's not even knowledge like memorizing the periodic table. It's a different way of thinking."

"Perhaps..." the Potions Master murmured, but his voice was skeptical.

"It is hazardous," Albus said, "to read too far into a prophecy, even if you have heard it yourself. They are things of exceeding frustration."

"So I see," Harry said. His hand rose up, rubbed the scar on his forehead. "But... okay, if this is really all we know... look, I'll just put it bluntly. How do you know that the Dark Lord actually survived?"

"What?" she cried. Albus just sighed and leaned back in the vast Headmaster's chair.

"Well," Harry said, "imagine how this prophecy sounded back when it was made. You-Know-Who learns the prophecy, and it sounds like I'm destined to grow up and overthrow him. That the two of us are meant to have a final battle where either of us must destroy all but a remnant of the other. So You-Know-Who attacks Godric's Hollow and immediately gets vanquished, leaving behind some remnant which may or may not be his disembodied soul. Maybe the Death Eaters are his remnant, or the Dark Mark. This prophecy could already be fulfilled, is what I'm saying. Don't get me wrong – I do realize that my interpretation sounds stretched. Trelawney's phrasing doesn't seem natural for describing only the events that historically happened on October 31st, 1981. Attacking a baby and having the spell bounce off, isn't something you'd normally call 'the power to vanquish'. But if you think of the prophecy as being about several possible futures, only one of which was actually realized on Halloween, then the prophecy could already be complete."

"But –" Minerva blurted. "But the raid on Azkaban –"

"If the Dark Lord survived, then sure, he's the most likely suspect for the Azkaban breakout," Harry said reasonably. "You could even say that the Azkaban breakout is Bayesian evidence for the Dark Lord surviving, because an Azkaban breakout is more likely to happen in worlds where he's alive than worlds where he's dead. But it's not strong Bayesian evidence. It's not something that can't possibly happen unless the Dark Lord is alive. Professor Quirrell, who didn't start from the assumption that You-Know-Who was still around, had no trouble thinking of his own explanation. To him, it was obvious that some powerful wizard might want Bellatrix Black because she knew a secret of the Dark Lord's, like some of his magical knowledge that he'd told to only her. The priors against anyone surviving their body's death are very low, even if it's magically possible. Most times it doesn't happen. So if it's just the Azkaban breakout... I'd have to say formally that it isn't enough Bayesian evidence. The improbability of the evidence assuming that the hypothesis is false, is not commensurate with the prior improbability of the hypothesis."

"No," Severus said flatly. "The prophecy is not yet fulfilled. I would know if it were."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Yes, Potter. If the prophecy had already come true, I would understand it! I heard Trelawney's words, I remember Trelawney's voice, and if I knew the events that matched the prophecy, I would recognize them. What has already happened... does not fit." The Potions Master spoke with certainty.

"I'm not really sure what to do with that statement," Harry said. His hand rose up, absently rubbed at his forehead. "Maybe it's just what you think happened that doesn't fit, and the true history is different..."

"Voldemort is alive," Albus said. "There are other indications."

"Such as?" Harry's reply was instant.

Albus paused. "There are terrible rituals by which wizards have returned from death," Albus said slowly. "That much, anyone can discern within history and legend. And yet those books are missing, I could not find them; it was Voldemort who removed them, I am sure –"

"So you can't find any books on immortality, and that proves that You-Know-Who has them?"

"Indeed," said Albus. "There is a certain book – I will not name it aloud – missing from the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library. An ancient scroll which should have been at Borgin and Burkes, with only an empty place on a shelf to show where it was –" The old wizard stopped. "But I suppose," the old wizard said, as though to himself, "you will say that even if Voldemort tried to make himself immortal, it does not prove that he succeeded..."

Harry sighed. "Proof, Headmaster? There are only ever probabilities. If there are known, particular books on immortality rituals which are missing, that increases the probability that someone attempted one. Which, in turn, raises the prior probability of the Dark Lord surviving his death. This I concede, and thank you for contributing the fact. The question is whether the prior probability goes up enough."

"Surely," Albus said quietly, "if you concede even a chance that Voldemort survived, that is worth guarding against?"

Harry inclined his head. "As you say, Headmaster. Though once a probability drops low enough, it's also an error to go on obsessing about it... Given that books on immortality are missing, and that this prophecy would sound somewhat more natural if it refers to the Dark Lord and I having a future battle, I agree that the Dark Lord being alive is a probability, not just possibility. But other probabilities must also be taken into account – and in the probable worlds where You-Know-Who is not alive, someone else framed Hermione."

"Foolishness," Severus said softly. "Utter foolishness. The Dark Mark has not faded, nor has its master."

"See, that's what I mean by formally insufficient Bayesian evidence. Sure, it sounds all grim and foreboding and stuff, but is it that unlikely for a magical mark to stay around after the maker dies? Suppose the mark is certain to continue while the Dark Lord's sentience lives on, but a priori we'd only have guessed a twenty percent chance of the Dark Mark continuing to exist after the Dark Lord dies. Then the observation, 'The Dark Mark has not faded' is five times as likely to occur in worlds where the Dark Lord is alive as in worlds where the Dark Lord is dead. Is that really commensurate with the prior improbability of immortality? Let's say the prior odds were a hundred-to-one against the Dark Lord surviving. If a hypothesis is a hundred times as likely to be false versus true, and then you see evidence five times more likely if the hypothesis is true versus false, you should update to believing the hypothesis is twenty times as likely to be false as true. Odds of a hundred to one, times a likelihood ratio of one to five, equals odds of twenty to one that the Dark Lord is dead –"

"Where are you getting all these numbers, Potter?"

"That is the admitted weakness of the method," Harry said readily. "But what I'm qualitatively getting at is why the observation, 'The Dark Mark has not faded', is not adequate support for the hypothesis, 'The Dark Lord is immortal.' The evidence isn't as extraordinary as the claim." Harry paused. "Not to mention that even if the Dark Lord is alive, he doesn't have to be the one who framed Hermione. As a cunning man once said, there could be more than one plotter and more than one plan."

"Such as the Defense Professor," Severus said with a thin smile. "I suppose I must agree that he is a suspect. It was the Defense Professor last year, after all; and the year before that, and the year before that."

Harry's eyes dropped back to the parchment in his lap. "Let's move on. Are we certain that this Prophecy is accurate? Nobody messed with Professor McGonagall's memory, maybe edited or subtracted a line?"

Albus paused, then spoke slowly. "There is a great spell laid over Britain, recording every prophecy said within our borders. Far beneath the Most Ancient Hall of the Wizengamot, in the Department of Mysteries, they are recorded."

"The Hall of Prophecy," Minerva whispered. She'd read about that place, said to be a great room of shelves filled with glowing orbs, one after another appearing over the years. Merlin himself had wrought it, it was said; the greatest wizard's final slap to the face of Fate. Not all prophecies conduced to the good; and Merlin had wished for at least those spoken of in prophecy, to know what had been spoken of them. That was the respect Merlin had given to their free will, that Destiny might not control them from the outside, unwitting. Those mentioned within a prophecy would have a glowing orb float to their hand, and then hear the prophet's true voice speaking. Others who tried to touch an orb, it was said, would be driven mad – or possibly just have their heads explode, the legends were unclear on this point. Whatever Merlin's original intention, the Unspeakables hadn't let anyone enter in centuries, so far as she'd heard. Works of the Ancient Wizards had stated that later Unspeakables had discovered that tipping off the subjects of prophecies could interfere with seers releasing whatever temporal pressures they released; and so the heirs of Merlin had sealed his Hall. It did occur to Minerva to wonder (now that she'd spent a few months around Mr. Potter) how anyone could possibly know that; but she also knew better than to ask Albus, in case Albus tried to tell her. Minerva firmly believed that you only ought to worry about Time if you were a clock.

"The Hall of Prophecy," Albus confirmed lowly. "Those who are spoken of in a prophecy, may listen to that prophecy there. Do you see the implication, Harry?"

Harry frowned. "Well, I could listen to it, or the Dark Lord... oh, my parents. Those who had thrice defied him. They were also mentioned in the prophecy, so they could hear the recording?"

"If James and Lily heard anything different from what Minerva reported," Albus said evenly, "they did not say so to me."

"You took James and Lily there? " Minerva said.

"Fawkes can go to many places," Albus said. "Do not mention the fact."

Harry was staring directly at Albus. "Can I go to this Department of Mysteries place and hear the recorded prophecy? The original tone of voice might be helpful, from what I've heard."

Light glinted from the reflection of Albus's half-moon glasses as the old wizard slowly shook his head. "Not now. The Department of Mysteries is well-guarded, and we could not afford to be caught there. It is possible and even likely that the Unspeakables have updated their detection webs in the last ten years, and it would take several weeks of study to be certain of how to enter without detection. I could set all this in motion – but would it be worth it?"

Harry hesitated. "Probably not. But I'll keep it in mind. Thank you." He looked back down at the parchment. "I'll take the prophecy as assumed accurate for now. The next part says that the Dark Lord has marked me as his equal. Any ideas on what that means exactly?"

"Surely not," said Albus, "that you must imitate his ways, in any wise."

"I'm not dumb, Headmaster. Muggles have worked out a thing or two about temporal paradoxes, even if it's all theoretical to them. I won't throw away my ethics just because a signal from the future claims it's going to happen, because then that becomes the only reason why it happened in the first place. Still, what does it mean?"

"I do not know," said Severus.

"Nor I," she said.

Harry took out his wand, turned it over in his hands, gazing meditatively at the wood. "Eleven inches, holly, with a core of phoenix feather," Harry said. "And the phoenix whose tail feather is in this wand, only ever gave one other, which Mr... what was his name, Olive-something... made into the core of the Dark Lord's wand. And I'm a Parselmouth. It seemed like a lot of coincidence even then. And now I find out there's a prophecy stating that I'll be the Dark Lord's equal."

Severus's eyes were thoughtful; the Headmaster's gaze unreadable.

"Could it be," Minerva said falteringly, "that You-Know-Who – that Voldemort – transferred some of his own powers to Mr. Potter, the night he gave him that scar? Not something he intended to do, surely. Still... I don't see how Mr. Potter could be his equal, if he had any less magic than the Dark Lord himself..."

"Meh," said Harry, still looking meditatively at his wand. "I'd fight the Dark Lord without any magic at all, if I had to. Homo sapiens didn't become the dominant species on this planet by having the sharpest claws or hardest armor – though I suppose some of that point may be lost on wizards. Still, it's beneath my dignity as a human being to be scared of anything that isn't smarter than I am; and from what I've heard, on that particular dimension the Dark Lord wasn't very scary."

The Potions Master spoke, his voice taking on some of his customary contemptuous drawl. "You imagine yourself more intelligent than the Dark Lord, Potter?"

"Yes, in fact," said Harry, pulling back the left sleeve of his robes, and rolling up the shirtsleeve beneath to expose the bare elbow. "Oh, that reminds me! Let's make sure nobody here has the clearly visible tattoo in the standard, easily checkable location which would mark them as a secret enemy spy."

Albus made a quieting gesture that halted the Potions Master before he could say anything scathing. "Tell me, Harry," Albus said, "how would you have crafted the Dark Mark?"

"Nonstandard locations," Harry said promptly, "not easily found without embarrassment and fuss, though of course any security-conscious person would check anyway. Make it smaller, if possible. Overlay another non-magical tattoo to obscure the exact shape – better yet, cover it with a layer of fake skin –"

"Cunning indeed," Albus said. "But tell me, suppose you could craft any conditions you wished into the Mark, fading it or raising it as you wished. What would you do then?"

"Make it completely invisible at all times," Harry said in tones of stating the obvious. "You don't want there to be any detectable difference between a spy and a non-spy."

"Suppose you are more cunning still," Albus said. "You are a master of trickery, a master of deception, and you employ your abilities to the fullest."

"Well –" The boy stopped, frowning. "It seems unnecessarily complicated, more like a tactic a villain would use in a role-playing game than something you'd try in a real-life war. But I suppose you could put fake Dark Marks on people who aren't really Death Eaters, and keep the Dark Marks on the real Death Eaters invisible. But then there's the question of why people would start believing in the first place that the Dark Mark identified a Death Eater... I'd have to think about it for at least five minutes, if I were going to take the problem seriously."

"I ask you this," Albus said, still in that mild tone, "because I did indeed, in the early days of the war, perform such tests as you suggested. The Order survived my folly only because Alastor did not trust in the bare arms we saw. I had thought, afterward, that the bearers of the Mark might hide it or show it at their will. And yet when we hied Igor Karkaroff before the Wizengamot, that Mark showed clear on his arm, for all that Karkaroff wished to protest his innocence. What true rule may govern the Dark Mark, I do not know. Even Severus is still bound by his Mark not to reveal its secrets to any who do not know them."

"Oh, well that makes it obvious," Harry said promptly. "Wait, hold on – you were a Death Eater? " Harry transferred his stare to Severus.

Severus returned a thin smile. "I still am, so far as they know."

"Harry," said Albus, eyes only for the boy. "What do you mean, that makes it obvious?"

"Information theory 101," the boy said in a lecturing tone. "Observing variable X conveys information about variable Y, if and only if the possible values of X have different probabilities given different states of Y. The instant you hear about anything whatsoever that varies between a spy and a nonspy, you should immediately think of exploiting it to distinguish spies from nonspies. Similarly, to distinguish reality from lies, you need a process which behaves differently in the presence of truth and falsehood – that's why 'faith' doesn't work as a discriminant, while 'make experimental predictions and test them' does. You say someone with the Dark Mark can't reveal its secrets to anyone who doesn't already know them. So to find out how the Dark Mark operates, write down every way you can imagine the Dark Mark might work, then watch Professor Snape try to tell each of those things to a confederate – maybe one who doesn't know what the experiment is about – I'll explain binary search later so that you can play Twenty Questions to narrow things down – and whatever he can't say out loud is true. His silence would be something that behaves differently in the presence of true statements about the Mark, versus false statements, you see."

Minerva's mouth was hanging open, she realized; and she closed it abruptly. Even Albus looked surprised.

"And after that, like I said, any behavioral difference between spies and nonspies can be used to identify spies. Once you've identified at least one magically censored secret of the Dark Mark, you can test someone for the Dark Mark by seeing if they can reveal that secret to somebody who doesn't already know it –"

"Thank you, Mr. Potter."

Everyone looked at Severus. The Potions Master was straightening, his teeth bared in a grimace of angry triumph. "Headmaster, I can now speak freely of the Mark. If we know we are caught for a Death Eater, before others who have not yet seen our bare arms, our Mark reveals itself whether we will it or no. But if they have already seen our arms bare, it does not reveal itself; nor if we are only being tested from suspicion. Thus the Dark Mark seems to identify Death Eaters – but only those already found, you perceive."

"Ah..." Albus said. "Thank you, Severus." He closed his eyes briefly. "That would indeed explain why Black escaped even Peter's notice... ah, well. And Harry's proposed test?"

The Potions Master shook his head. "The Dark Lord was no fool, despite Potter's delusions. The moment such a test is suspected, the Mark ceases to bind our tongues. Yet I could not hint at the possibility, but only wait for another to deduce it." Another thin smile. "I would award you a good many House points, Mr. Potter, if it would not compromise my cover. But as you can see, the Dark Lord was quite cunning." His gaze grew more distant. "Oh," Severus breathed, "he was very cunning indeed..."

Harry Potter sat still for a long moment.

Then –

"No," Harry said. The boy shook his head. "No, that can't actually be true. First of all, we're talking about the kind of logic puzzle that would appear in chapter one of a Raymond Smullyan book, nowhere near the level of what Muggle scientists do for a living. And second, for all I know, it took the Dark Lord five months of thinking to invent the puzzle I just solved in five seconds –"

"Is it that inconceivable to you, Potter, that anyone could be so intelligent as yourself?" The Potions Master's voice held more curiosity than scorn.

"It's called a base rate, Professor Snape. The evidence is equally compatible with the Dark Lord inventing that puzzle over the course of five months or over the course of five seconds, but in any given population there'll be many more people who can do it in five months than in five seconds..." Harry pasted a hand against his forehead. "Darn it, how can I explain this? I suppose, from your perspective, the Dark Lord came up with a clever puzzle and I cleverly solved it and that makes us look equal."

"I remember your first day of Potions class," the Potions Master said dryly. "I think you have a ways still to go."

"Peace, Severus," Albus said. "Harry has already accomplished more than you know. Yet tell me, Harry – why do you believe the Dark Lord is less than you? Surely he is a damaged soul in many ways. But cunning for cunning – you are not yet ready to face him, I would judge; and I know the full tally of your deeds."

The frustrating thing about this conversation was that Harry couldn't say his actual reasons for disagreeing, which violated several basic principles of cooperative discourse.

He couldn't explain how Bellatrix had really been removed from Azkaban – not by You-Know-Who in any guise, but by the combined wits of Harry and Professor Quirrell.

Harry didn't want to say in front of Professor McGonagall that the existence of brain damage implied that there were no such things as souls. Which made a successful immortality ritual... well, not impossible, Harry certainly intended to forge a road to magical immortality someday, but it would be a lot harder and require much more ingenuity than just binding an already-existent soul to a lich's phylactery. Which no intelligent wizard would bother doing in the first place, if they knew their souls were immortal.

And the true and honest reason Harry knew the Dark Lord couldn't have been that smart... well... there wasn't any tactful way to say it, but...

Harry had been to a convocation of the Wizengamot. He'd seen the laughable 'security precautions', if you could call them that, guarding the deepest levels of the Ministry of Magic. They didn't even have the Thief's Downfall which goblins used to wash away Polyjuice and Imperius Curses on people entering Gringotts. The obvious takeover route would be to Imperius the Minister of Magic and a few department heads, and owl a hand grenade to anyone too powerful to Imperius. Or owl them knockout gas, if you needed them alive and in a state of Living Death to take hairs for Polyjuice potions. Legilimency, False Memories, the Confundus Charm – it was ridiculous, the magical world was supersaturated with ways to cheat. Harry might not do any of those things himself, during his own takeover of Britain, since he was constrained by Ethics... well, Harry might do some of the lesser ones, since Polyjuice or a temporary Confundus or read-only Legilimency all sounded better than an extra day of Azkaban... but...

If Hermione hadn't stopped him, it was possible he could've wiped out the eviler sections of the Wizengamot that day; all by himself, using only a first-year's magical power, on account of being clever enough to figure out Dementors. Though Harry might not have been in such a great political position after that, the surviving Wizengamot members might've found it easy and cheap to disavow his actions for P.R. purposes and condemn him, even if the smarter ones realized it was for the greater good... but still.

If you were completely unrestrained by ethics, armed with the ancient secrets of Salazar Slytherin, had dozens of powerful followers including Lucius Malfoy, and it took you more than ten years to fail to overthrow the government of magical Britain, it meant you were stupid.

"How can I put this..." Harry said. "Look, Headmaster, you've got ethics, there's a lot of battle tactics you don't use because you're not evil. And you fought the Dark Lord, a tremendously powerful wizard who wasn't so restrained, and you held him off anyway. If You-Know-Who had been super-smart on top of that, you'd be dead. All of you. You'd have died instantly –"

"Harry," Professor McGonagall said. Her voice was faltering. "Harry, we almost did all die. More than half the Order of the Phoenix died. If not for Albus – Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard in two centuries, Harry – we surely would have perished."

Harry passed a hand across his forehead. "I'm sorry," Harry said. "I'm not trying to minimize what you went through. I know that You-Know-Who was a completely evil, incredibly powerful Dark Wizard with dozens of powerful followers, and that's... bad, yes, definitely bad. It's just..." All that isn't on remotely the same threat scale as the enemy being smart, in which case they Transfigure botulinum toxin and sneak a millionth of a gram into your teacup. Was there any safe way to convey that concept without citing specifics? Harry couldn't think of one.

"Please, Harry," said Professor McGonagall. "Please, Harry, I beg you – take the Dark Lord seriously! He is more dangerous than –" The senior witch seemed to be having trouble finding words. "He is far more dangerous than Transfiguration."

Harry's eyebrows went up before he could stop himself. A dark chuckle came from Severus Snape's direction.

Um, said the voice of Ravenclaw within him. Um, honestly Professor McGonagall is right, we're not taking this as seriously as we'd take a scientific problem. The difficult thing is to react at all to new information, instead of just flushing it out the window. Right now it looks like we didn't shift belief at all after encountering an unexpected, important argument. Our dismissal of Lord Voldemort as a serious threat was originally based on the Dark Mark being blatantly stupid. It would require a focused effort to de-update and suspect the whole garden-path of reasoning we went down based on that false assumption, and we're not putting in that effort right now.

"All right," Harry said, just as Professor McGonagall seemed to be about to speak again. "All right, to take this seriously, I need to stop and think for five minutes."

"Please do," said Albus Dumbledore.

Harry closed his eyes.

His Ravenclaw side divided into three.

Probability estimate, said Ravenclaw One, who was acting as moderator. That the Dark Lord is alive, and as smart as we are, and hence a genuine threat.

Why aren't all his enemies already dead? said Ravenclaw Two, who was prosecuting.

Note, said Ravenclaw One, we had already thought of that argument so we can't use it to shift belief again each time we rehearse it.

But what's the actual flaw in the logic? said Ravenclaw Two. In worlds with a smart Lord Voldemort, everyone in the Order of the Phoenix died in the first five minutes of the war. The world doesn't look like that, so we don't live in that world. QED.

Is that really certain? asked Ravenclaw Three, who'd been appointed as the defender. Maybe there was some reason Lord Voldemort wasn't fighting all-out back then –



Like what? demanded Ravenclaw Two. Furthermore, whatever your excuse, I demand that the probability of your hypothesis be penalized in accordance with its added complexity –



Let Three talk, said Ravenclaw One.

Okay... look, said Ravenclaw Three. First of all, we don't know that anyone can take over the Ministry just with mind control. Maybe magical Britain is really an oligarchy and you need enough military power to intimidate the family heads into submission –



Imperius them too, interjected Ravenclaw Two.

– and the oligarchs have Thief's Downfall in the entrances to their homes –



Complexity penalty! cried Ravenclaw Two. More epicycles!

– oh, be reasonable, said Ravenclaw Three. We haven't actually seen anyone taking over the Ministry with a couple of well-placed Imperius curses. We don't know that it can actually be done that easily.

But, said Ravenclaw Two, even taking that into account... it really seems like there should've been some other way. Ten years of failure, really? Using only conventional terrorist tactics? That's just... not even trying.

Maybe Lord Voldemort did have more creative ideas, replied Ravenclaw Three, but he didn't want to tip his hand to other countries' governments, didn't want them to know how vulnerable they were and install Thief's Downfall in their Ministries. Not until he had Britain as a base and enough servants to subvert all the other major governments simultaneously.

You're assuming he wants to conquer the whole world, noted Ravenclaw Two.

Trelawney prophesied that he would be our equal, intoned Ravenclaw Three solemnly. Therefore, he wanted to take over the world.

And if he is your equal, and you do have to fight him –



For an instant, Harry's mind tried to imagine the specter of two creative wizards fighting an all-out-war against each other.

Harry had noted all the Charms and Potions in his first-year books that could be creatively used to kill people. He hadn't been able to help himself. Literally. He'd tried to stop his brain from doing it each time, but it was like looking at a fish and trying to stop your brain from noticing it was a fish. What someone could creatively do with seventh-year, or Auror-level, or ancient lost magic such as Lord Voldemort had possessed... didn't bear thinking about. A magically-superpowered creative-genius psychopath wasn't a 'threat', it was an extinction event.

Then Harry shook his head, dismissing the gloomy line his reasoning had been going down. The question was whether there was a significant probability of facing anything so terrible as a Dark Rationalist in the first place.

Prior odds that someone attempting an immortality ritual would actually have it work...

Call it one to a thousand, at a generous overestimate; it was not the case that roughly one wizard in a thousand survived their death. Though, admittedly Harry didn't have data on how many had attempted immortality rituals first.

What if the Dark Lord is as smart as us? said Ravenclaw Three. You know, the way Trelawney prophesied him being our equal. Then he would make his immortality ritual work. P.S., don't forget that 'destroy all but a remnant of the other' line.

Requiring that level of intelligence was an additional burdensome detail; prior odds of a random population member being that intelligent were low...

But Lord Voldemort wasn't a randomly selected wizard, he was one particular wizard in the population who'd come to everyone's attention. The puzzle of the Mark implied a certain minimum level of intelligence, even if (hypothetically) the Dark Lord had taken longer to think it through. So he had to give the Dark Lord some credit for that. Then again, in the Muggle world, all of the extremely intelligent people Harry knew about from history had not become evil dictators or terrorists. The closest thing to that in the Muggle world was hedge-fund managers, and none of them had tried to take over so much as a third-world country, a point which put upper bounds on both their possible evil and possible goodness.

There were hypotheses where the Dark Lord was smart and the Order of the Phoenix didn't just instantly die, but those hypotheses were more complicated and ought to get complexity penalties. After the complexity penalties of the further excuses were factored in, there would be a large likelihood ratio from the hypotheses 'The Dark Lord is smart' versus 'The Dark Lord was stupid' to the observation, 'The Dark Lord did not instantly win the war'. That was probably worth a 10:1 likelihood ratio in favor of the Dark Lord being stupid... but maybe not 100:1. You couldn't actually say that 'The Dark Lord instantly wins' had a probability of more than 99 percent, assuming the Dark Lord started out smart; the sum over all possible excuses would be more than .01.

And then there was the Prophecy... which might or might not have originally included a line about how Lord Voldemort would immediately die if he confronted the Potters. Which Albus Dumbledore had then edited in Professor McGonagall's memory, in order to lure Lord Voldemort to his doom. If there was no such line, the Prophecy did sound somewhat more like You-Know-Who and the Boy-Who-Lived were destined to have some later confrontation. But in that case, Dumbledore would probably have come up with an excuse to not take Harry to the Hall of Prophecy at all, rather than in a few weeks. Although he might still encounter "difficulties" later, if Harry asked him to make his preparations for that...

Harry was starting to wonder if he could even get a Bayesian calculation out of this. Maybe it was time for another approach.

I notice that I am confused, he thought.

If he accepted the premise that Voldemort was smart, then the situation did not make sense. A smart wizard with loads of power and powerful helpers who was trying to overthrow a government so badly organized as magical Britain seemed to be should have succeeded, if not in the first month then at least in less than ten years. Or, he conceded, failed quickly and be destroyed by some other factor; even smart people were allowed to make mistakes sometimes, and Voldemort had faced Dumbledore, supposedly the most powerful wizard in the world. Dumbledore might not have had Salazar Slytherin's power, but he did have many years of magical experience over Voldemort.

Those were a lot of premises he could be mistaken about, he realized. The obvious one to re-evaluate was that Voldemort was smart. That's what he'd been doing so far, and the data mostly seemed to fit a dumb Voldemort, but there was still a little note of confusion. Professor McGonagall thought Voldemort was smart, and she could certainly identify the smart students from the not-so-smart without ever even seeing their grades. Professor Snape, who had apparently worked for him, assigned him above-Harry-level intelligence. Even if these people were mistaken, then the data did not fit a stupid Dark Lord; at least he would have to be significantly above-average intelligence. That might not be enough to be creative, though. Still, as this was the assumption he had started out from, and he had already taken several additional mental assumptions based on this belief, perhaps he should dismiss it for now, for fairness, and consider the alternatives.

Should he re-evaluate Voldemort's power? He didn't actually know that Voldemort had discovered Slytherin's monster, and that it taught all of Slytherin's lore; that was just a hypothesis from Quirrell. Even if it fit the data well, it might not actually be true. But whether that was the case or not, everyone seemed to agree that Voldemort was extremely powerful, so there would have had to be some displays of power, and he'd had help from some definitely powerful people. Even if he wasn't strong himself, if he had been smart, then he could have sent those people to the right places. So this premise did not seem useful to reconsider.

Should he re-evaluate the difficulty of overthrowing magical Britain? This was what Dumbledore and McGonagall were trying to get him to accept, that Dumbledore's opposition and the efforts of the Order of the Phoenix had halted his progress. There were several reasons to believe that they were wrong, but maybe there were things he didn't know. This could perhaps be tested experimentally, though. If he made a plan, or a number of different plans, and got the three of them to accept an Obliviate afterwards, he could tell them exactly how he would do it (or partly how he would do it, and see how they'd respond in a real situation) and find out why they believed it wouldn't work. But this would take time to test. He put that one on hold for a bit.

Maybe Voldemort hadn't really failed? Could he have seemed to fail, so everyone would put their efforts into stopping him, while behind the scenes, he'd already taken control? But then, if he'd achieved the power that he wanted, why hadn't Muggleborns been banned, like the Dark Lord had supposedly wanted? Why was Dumbledore still alive? And in the end, if he'd actually won, he wouldn't have needed to keep up the pretense. So, no. If he accepted that idea, Harry would only be more confused, not less, so that probably wasn't where the real hypothesis was hiding.

Should he reconsider the possibility that Voldemort had actually been trying to take control over Magical Britain? But then, what could he possibly have been doing? Setting up a situation where it would be easy to take control of the world? Some deeper plot?

Harry was suddenly reminded of a question the Headmaster had asked him a few months ago. "What evil could you accomplish if a Dementor were allowed onto the grounds of Hogwarts?" At the time, his dark side had answered that it was all just a distraction. Could Lord Voldemort have been trying to distract attention from some darker plot? That was certainly a worrying idea, if it wasn't so far-fetched. And Quirrell's explanation had been better. To kill the Headmaster while he is weakened. Quirrell would have posed an obvious threat, which the Headmaster would defend against, and then use that defense to strike. But all this required complexity penalties, and even in the unlikely event that Voldemort was as intelligent as Harry, it was pushing it to believe he might be as smart as Quirrell.

In the fireplace at one side of the Headmaster's office, the flames suddenly flared up, turning from orange to bright billious green.

"Ah!" said Professor McGonagall into the uncomfortable non-silence. "That would be Mad-Eye Moody, I suppose."

"Let this matter bide for now," the Headmaster said in some relief, as he too turned to regard the Floo. "I believe we are about to have more input on the present situation."

The Floo-Fire of the Headmaster's office blazed a bright pale-green, the fire concentrating in on itself into a spinning emeraldine whirlwind, and then flared even brighter and spit a human figure into the air –

There was a blur of motion as the resolving figure snapped up a wand, smoothly spinning with the Floo's momentum like a ballet dance step, so that his firing arc covered the entire 360-degree arc of the room; and then just as abruptly, the figure stopped in place.

In the first instant that Harry saw that man, before Harry even took in the eye, he noticed the scars on the hands, the scars on the face, like the man had been burned and cut over his entire body; though only the man's hands and face were visible, of all his flesh. The rest of the man's body was hidden, encased not in robes, but in leather that looked more like armor than clothing; dark gray leather, matching the man's mess of grayed hair.

The next thing that Harry's vision comprehended was the brilliant blue eye occupying the right side of the man's face.

And his brain noticed the jolt of adrenaline. Harry had drawn his wand in sheer reflex when the man had spun out of the Floo like that, there'd been something about it that felt like ambush, Harry's hand had already started to level his wand for a Somnium before he'd managed to stop himself. Even now the armored man was holding his wand level, not pointed at any particular person but covering the whole room, and that wand was already in perfect line with his eyes, like a soldier sighting down a gun. There was danger in the man's stance and the set of his boots, danger in the leather armor he wore and danger in that brilliant blue eye.

When the scarred man spoke, addressing the Headmaster, his voice was edged. "I suppose you think this room is secure?"

"There are only friends here," Dumbledore said.

The man's head jerked toward Harry. "That include him?"

"If Harry Potter is not our friend," Dumbledore said gravely, "then we are all certainly doomed; so we may as well assume that he is."

The man's wand stayed level, not quite pointing at Harry. "Boy almost drew on me just then."

"Er..." Harry said. He noticed that his hand was still tightly holding the wand, and consciously relaxed his hand and dropped it back to his side. "Sorry about that, you looked a bit... combat-ready."

The scarred man's wand moved slightly away from where it had almost pointed at Harry, though it didn't lower, and the man let out a short bark of laughter. "Constant vigilance, eh, lad?" said the man.

"It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you," Harry recited the proverb.

The man turned fully toward Harry; and insofar as Harry could read any expression on the scarred face, the man now looked interested.

Dumbledore's eyes had regained some of the brilliant twinkle that they'd had before the Azkaban breakout, a smile beneath his silver mustache as though that smile had never left. "Harry, this is Alastor Moody, called also Mad-Eye, who will command the Order of the Phoenix after me – if anything should happen to me, that is. Alastor, this is Harry Potter, who I invited you here to meet today. I have every hope the two of you shall get along fantastically."

"I've heard a good deal about you, boy," said Mad-Eye Moody. His one dark natural eye stayed fixed on Harry, while the point of brilliant blue spun frantically, seeming to rotate all the way around within its socket. "Not all of it good. Do you regularly threaten to kill off half the powerful people in the country, or is that just for special occasions?"

After some consideration, Harry just shrugged apologetically.

"What were you really planning, kid?" the man said softly. "Did you think Albus would fall for it? Or were you deliberately trying to get everyone to write you off as a stupid kid so they won't expect anything clever next time?"

Harry hadn't even considered that possibility. He filed it away for future use. It was one way to deal with that particular fiasco, anyway.

The scarred man turned his face a little and gazed at Harry curiously, turning both a brown and a brilliant blue eye at him. Their eyes met –

The sudden fury of the Legilimency attack almost made Harry fall off his chair, as a blade of white-hot steel cut into the imaginary person at the forefront of his mind. Harry hadn't had a chance to practice since Mr. Bester's training, and he very nearly lost his grip on the imaginary person the back-of-his-mind was pretending to be, as that person's world turned into searing lava and a furious probe of questions. Harry almost lost his grip on only pretending to hallucinate, only pretending to be the imaginary person that was screaming in shock and pain as the Legilimency tore apart his sanity and reshaped him to believe that he was on fire –

Harry managed to break eye contact, dropping his eyes to Moody's chin.

"You're out of practice, boy," Moody said. Harry wasn't looking at the man's face, but his voice was deadly grim. "And I'll warn you of this but once. Voldie isn't like any other Legilimens in recorded history. He doesn't need to look you in the eyes, and if your shields are that rusty he'll creep in so softly you'd never notice a thing."

"Duly noted," Harry said to the scarred chin. Harry was more shaken than he'd have admitted; Mr. Bester hadn't been anywhere near that powerful, and had never tested Harry like that. Pretending to be someone hurting that much had... Harry couldn't find words for describing what it felt like to contain an imaginary person in that much pain, but it hadn't been normal.

"You know, Alastor," the Headmaster said conversationally, "it's kind of rude to do that without asking."

"Do you think Voldie's going to ask, before he picks all our secrets out of the boy's mind?"

"Oh, I am not complaining. It was merely an idle comment."

"Do I get any credit for being an Occlumens in the first place?" Harry asked, regaining some of his composure.

The ex-Auror snorted. "So you're think you're all grown up already, eh? Look me in the eyes!"

Harry strengthened his shields, and looked once more into the dark brown eye and the brilliant blue.

"Ever watched someone die?" asked Mad-Eye Moody.

"My parents," Harry said without flinching. "I recovered the memory in January when I went in front of a Dementor to learn the Patronus Charm. I remember You-Know-Who's voice –" A chill went through Harry's body, his wand twitching in his hand. "My main tactical report is that You-Know-Who could speak the Killing Curse in less than half a second, but you probably already knew that."

There was a gasp from Professor McGonagall's direction, and Severus's face had tightened.

"Yes," Moody growled softly. "We did. Ever experienced the Cruciatus Curse?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I think that is quite enough for the moment, Alastor. Before you arrived, we were discussing about Voldemort. Do you have input on what his motive for attacking the Malfoy boy could be? My current hypothesis is that he was striking at the strongest allies of his future enemy, but you might have a different view?"

"Are you sure it's Voldie?" the scarred man growled. Harry quietly cheered.

"Who else would have done such a thing?"

Moody glared around the room. "Present company excluded?"

"All these people have my trust, Alastor."

The ex-Auror snorted. "That trust is gonna get you killed some day, mark my words. But even so you're missing the obvious culprit. In fact, that's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about –" He fished a black folder from within his leather armor. "Have you ever given even a passing thought to that Defense Professor of yours?"

"...so I fear I must take my leave," Dumbledore was saying gravely. "I promised Quirinus... that is to say, I promised the Defense Professor... that I would not make any attempt to uncover his true identity, in my own person or any other."

"And why'd you make a fool promise like that, then?" snapped Mad-Eye Moody.

"It was an unalterable condition of his employment, or so he said." Dumbledore glanced at Professor McGonagall, a wry smile briefly flitting over his face. "And Minerva made it clear to me that Hogwarts required a competent Defense Professor this year, even if I had to haul Grindelwald out of Nurmengard and prevail on old affections to persuade him to take the position."

"I did not quite phrase it in that fashion –"

"Your expression said it for you, my dear."

And so, a few minutes later, the four of them – Harry, Professor McGonagall, the Potions Master, and Alastor Moody aka 'Mad-Eye' – were ensconced all by themselves in the Headmaster's office.

It was strange how the Headmaster's office seemed... unbalanced... without the Headmaster in it. If you didn't have the ancient wizened master to make it all seem solemn, you were just four people trying to have a serious meeting while surrounded by bizarre, noisy gidgets. Clearly visible from where Harry had perched himself on his chair's arm was a truncated-conical object, like a cone with its top snipped off, slowly spinning around a pulsating central light which it shaded but did not obscure; and each time the inner light pulsated, the assembly made a vroop-vroop-vroop sound that sounded oddly distant, muffled like it was coming from behind four solid walls, even though the spinning-conical-section thingy was only a meter or two away.

Vroop... vroop... vroop...

"All right, then," Moody said, looking rather sour as he spread the parchments from the folder over the Headmaster's desk. "This is a copy of what Amelia's people put together. She almost certainly knows we've got it, but it's all off the books, that clear? Anyway –"

And Moody told them who the Department of Magical Law Enforcement thought 'Quirinus Quirrell' really was. A seemingly ordinary Hogwarts student (though talented enough that he'd been only narrowly beaten out for the Head Boy position) who'd gone vacationing in Albania after his graduation, disappeared, returned after 25 years, and then been caught up in the Wizarding War –

"It was murdering the House of Monroe that made Voldie's name," Moody said. "Until then, he was just another Dark Wizard with delusions of grandeur and Bellatrix Black. But after that –" Moody snorted. "Every fool in the country flocked to serve him. You would've hoped the Wizengamot would turn serious, once they realized Voldie was willing to kill their own sacred selves. And that's just what the bastards did – hope that some other bastard would turn serious. None of the cowards wanted to step in front. It was Monroe, Crouch, Bones, and Longbottom. That was nearly everyone in the Ministry who'd dare say a word that might give Voldie offense."

"I remember the name," Professor Snape cut in. "Didn't he draft the Monroe Act, that allowed the Unforgivable Curses to be used on Death Eaters?"

"One of this few successes," Mad-Eye Moody nodded. "Mostly, however, the people in power obstinately refused to cooperate with his ideas. Didn't want him to become too powerful after the war, see? When he was successful, they convinced themselves that he did not need more powers, or too much of their help. And when he failed, his arguments only seemed less convincing. About two years into the war, Monroe disappeared. Everyone thought Voldie had finally got him. Eight ruddy years of complete horror followed, like a dam breaking and gore flooding out, drowning the whole country. Albus bloody Dumbledore himself had to step into Monroe's shoes, and that was barely enough for us to survive."

Harry listened with an odd sense of unreality. Some of it felt right, matched up with observation – especially with the speech Professor Quirrell had made before Christmas – and yet...

This was Professor Quirrell they were talking about.

"So that's who the Department thinks is your Defense Professor," Mad-Eye Moody finished up his account. "Now what do you think, son?"

"Well..." Harry said slowly. It is also possible to have a mask behind the mask. "The obvious next thought is that this 'David Monroe' person died in the war after all, and this is just someone else pretending to be David Monroe pretending to be Quirinus Quirrell."

"That's obvious?" said Professor McGonagall. "Dear Merlin..."

"Really, boy?" said Mad-Eye Moody, his blue eye spinning rapidly. "I'd say that's a little... paranoid."

You don't know Professor Quirrell, Harry did not say. "It's an easy theory to test," Harry said out loud. "Just check whether the Defense Professor remembers something about the war that the real David Monroe would've known. Though I suppose, if he's playing the part of David Monroe pretending to be someone else, he has a good excuse to pretend he's pretending he doesn't know what you're talking about –"

"A little paranoid," said the scarred man, his voice rising. "Not paranoid enough! CONSTANT VIGILANCE! Think about it, lad – what if the real David Monroe never came back from Albania?"

There was a pause.

"I see..." Harry said.

"Of course you do," Professor McGonagall said. "Don't mind me, please. I'll just sit here quietly going mad."

"In this line of work, if you survive, you learn that there's three kinds of Dark Wizards," Moody said grimly; his wand wasn't pointed at anyone, it was angled slightly downward, but it was in his hand. It had never left his hand since the moment he'd entered the room. "There's Dark Wizards that have one name. There's Dark Wizards that have two names. And there's Dark Wizards that change names like you and I change clothes. I saw 'Monroe' go through three Death Eaters like he was snapping twigs. There's not many wizards that good at age forty-five. Dumbledore, maybe, but not many others."

"Perhaps that is true," said the Potions Master from where he was lurking. "But what of it, Mad-Eye? Whatever his identity, Monroe was surely the Dark Lord's enemy. I've heard Death Eaters curse his name even after they thought him dead. They certainly feared him."

"So far as Defense Professors are concerned," Professor McGonagall said primly, "I shall take it and be grateful."

Moody swung around to glare at her. "Just where the devil was 'Monroe' all those years he was gone, eh? Maybe he thought he could make a name for himself in Britain by opposing Voldie, and vanished away when he found out he was wrong. Then why'd he come back now, hah? What's his new plan?"

"He, ah..." Harry ventured tentatively. "He says he always wanted to be a great Defense Professor because all the best fighting wizards have taught at Hogwarts. And he kind of is being an incredibly good Defense Professor, actually... I mean, if he just wanted to keep up a disguise, he could get away with much sloppier work..."

Professor McGonagall was nodding firmly.

"Naive," Moody said flatly. "I suppose you all haven't wondered if your Defense Professor set up the whole House of Monroe to be wiped out?"

"What?" cried Professor McGonagall.

"Our mystery wizard hears about a missing kid from a Most Ancient House of Britain," Moody said. "Steps into the shoes of 'David Monroe', but stays away from the real Monroe family. But eventually the House is bound to notice something wrong. So this impostor somehow prods Voldie into wiping them all out – maybe leaked a password they'd given him for their wards – and then he was a Lord of the Wizengamot!"

There seemed to be a fight going on inside Harry's mind between Hufflepuff One, who'd never trusted the Defense Professor in the first place; and Hufflepuff Two, who was far too loyal to Harry's friend, Professor Quirrell, to believe something like that just because Moody said so.

It is kind of obvious, though, observed his Slytherin part. I mean, do you actually believe that under natural circumstances, anyone would end up as the last heir to a Most Ancient House AND Lord Voldemort killed his family AND he has to avenge his martial arts sensei? If anything I'd say he went too far over the top in setting up his new identity as the ideal literary hero. That sort of thing doesn't happen in real life.

This from an orphan who was raised unaware of his heritage, commented Harry's Inner Critic. With a prophecy about him. You know, I don't think we've ever read a story about two equally destined heroes competing to see who's cliched enough to take down the villain –



Yes, replied the central Harry over the distant vroop-ing noise in the background, it's a very sad life we lead and YOU'RE NOT HELPING.

There's only one thing to do at this point, said Ravenclaw. And we all know what it is, so why argue?

But, Harry replied, how do we test experimentally whether or not Professor Quirrell is the original David Monroe? I mean, what sort of observable behaves differently, depending on whether he's the real David Monroe or an impostor?

"What do you want me to do about it, Mad-Eye?" Professor McGonagall was demanding. "I can't –"

"You can," the scarred man said, glaring at her fiercely. "Just fire the bloody Defense Professor."

"You say that every year," said Professor McGonagall.

"Yes, and I'm always right!"

"Constant vigilance or no, Alastor, the students must be taught!"

Moody snorted. "Pfah! I swear the curse gets worse every year, as you lot get more and more reluctant to let them go. Your precious Professor Quirrell would have to be Grindelwald in disguise, to get himself sent off!"

"Is he?" Harry couldn't help asking. "I mean, could he actually be –"

"I check Grindie's cell every two months," Moody said. "He was there in March."

"Could the person in the cell be a ringer?"

"I administer a blood test for his identity, son."

"Where do you keep the blood you use as a reference?"

"In a safe place." Something like a smile was stretching the scarred lips. "Have you considered the Auror Office after you graduate?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't think I agree quite enough with the government to enforce its laws, but let's not go there. Could he be You-Know-Who in disguise?"

Professor McGonagall gasped in shock, and even Professor Snape in the corner seemed almost to jump. Harry shrugged. "t's just the obvious next question."

Moody, however, appeared to consider the question seriously.

"It would certainly fit those little naptimes Amelia wrote about, if Quirrell is possessed by Voldie's spirit. But you're still alive, aren't you boy?"

That was a fair point. Quirrell might not be able to cast spells on him, or even physically come close to him, but it wouldn't be particularly hard to poison his tea, especially since Quirrell was usually the one pouring it. But then, didn't that count for everyone? Forget about Quirrell, why was he still alive? If he had some enemy who was striking at his friends, then why had they left him alone? If poisoning his cup was too blatant, they could have set up something like the Hermione-Draco murder attempt, only with him as a target...

"Is there any reason to believe You-Know-Who wants me dead?" The others gave him some very strange looks. "Other than him trying to kill me as a baby, I mean? A lot of time has passed, he might have changed his mind..."

"Certainly he would want you alive to take your blood," Severus Snape put in. "But after that, I cannot see why he would let you live, considering the prophecy. It would be madness to let you grow into power. And since Quirrell was with you during the Azkaban break-out, and could have taken your blood any time, I think we can safely rule out that it is him." He rolled his eyes as he said it.

"No," Moody growled. "This is a viable hypothesis, and we're not dropping it until we've talked it over properly. Hasn't it occurred to you that maybe he did take the kid's blood, and just Obliviated him afterwards, hmm? Last I heard, we don't know how quickly it needs to be used. If he's not in a hurry, he could be finishing off whatever business he has. Maybe he's trying to get the Stone before doing the ritual, and just keeping Bellatrix around as a backup."

Harry's mind was having some trouble processing it all. He filed "the Stone" away for later consideration, made a firm mental note to ask more details about the return-to-life ritual that required his blood, and returned to the previous point.

"Excuse me." If they were actually considering, for real, whether Quirrell might be Voldemort, there were some tests to do. And Moody did seem more sane than most wizards, even if his sanity might be reserved for a rather limited area. "Mr. Moody, you seem like an intelligent man. What is your opinion of You-Know-Who's cunning?"

Moody rolled his eyes. "Bloody impossible," he spat. "We never saw through any of his plots until it was too late. And half of them we still haven't solved."

"Mr Potter solved the one with the Dark Mark today," Severus Snape volunteered. "But I would agree with the point. Potter, you may have seen something of the Headmaster's plots. They are difficult to see through, because they are complicated. The Dark Lord's plots are nothing like that. Most of them, in fact, revel in their simplicity. However, they are just deceptive enough that we never see through them in time."

"And he always got us thinking exactly what he wanted us to think. You'd think we'd get used to that, but even when we thought we knew what he wanted us to think, we'd still ended up drawing the wrong conclusion."

Harry's heart sunk. That sounded a lot like always one level higher than you.

"Not always," Snape volunteered. He snorted. "We never did figure out what he wanted us to conclude from the Animagus Potion in Bellatrix's cell."

"The what, sorry?" Harry asked. He was not aware of any Animagus Potion in Bellatrix's cell.

"It was how they broke her out," Professor Snape answered. "She became an animagus, so the Dementors could not see her as easily. The potion was left, hidden, in her cell. We still haven't managed to come up with any reason why he'd do that. We were probably meant to conclude something from it, but we have no idea what."

Professor McGonagall smiled weakly. "The only thing we concluded was that it wasn't you who took her out. And I do apologize that we suspected you even for a moment."

Harry sunk deeply into his chair. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap. That was, of course, exactly what Quirrell had wanted them to conclude.

Suddenly adrenaline shot through him as his brain registered that the tip of Moody's wand was now placed against the underside of his jaw.

"What are you thinking, lad? You know something you're not saying."

He really needed to work on his pokerface, or at least on not letting any turmoil in his mind affect the way he responded. "I... I..." He needed to think this through, calculate the probability that Quirrell was actually the supposedly long-dead Dark Lord who had killed his parents before revealing anything. But any moment's hesitation would give something away to Moody, who wasn't stupid. What could he... ah, yes. "I think you drew exactly the conclusion he wanted you to. He probably didn't use an Animagus Potion to take her out."

Professor McGonagall's eyes widened. Professor Snape stared at him for a moment before looking away.

"Or that's just what he wants you to think," Moody pointed out, slowly drawing back his wand but still keeping it pointed in Harry's general direction.

"Does the Dark Lord really use plots with that many levels of meta –"

"Yes," said Moody and Severus.

Crap.

If the Dark Lord was Quirrell-level intelligent, then (1) it significantly raised the chance that he and Quirrell were the same person, and (2) there was no way Harry could match him.

"However that may be," Professor McGonagall said firmly. "I think we can safely say that Quirrell is not Voldemort." Her voice trembled only a little as she said the name. "He was with Harry during the break-out, and unconscious afterwards so couldn't have gone back in time. Right?" She added in a pleading tone.

"Well, Mr. Potter?" Mad-Eye asked sharply.

"I... He may have been out of my sight for a bit." That was certainly true. He really didn't dare say more, or give Quirrell an alibi if it was actually plausible that he was in fact Lord Voldemort. If that was the case, he'd have to confess, no question. But he needed to think about it first. And he didn't want to say anything incriminating in the presence of the vigilant ex-Auror Moody, who might just arrest him on the spot.

"Then if he has access to a Time-Turner, he could have gone to Azkaban and returned without you ever knowing it. That would explain the Time-Paradox Albus was talking about as well."

But if Quirrell was Voldemort... why had he failed? There was no way Quirrell would fail to overthrow the government if he set his mind to it, Dumbledore just wasn't any kind of match for him.

"Tell me, Mr. Moody –" Harry's mouth was dry, but he needed to know the man's opinion. Even if the chance was small that he'd ever thought about it, Moody seemed the only one in the room able to think outside the box. "What do you think was You-Know-Who's ulterior motive?"

"What?" Professor McGonagall exclaimed.

"I know Professor Quirrell." Or I think I do, anyway... "If he, or someone as smart as he, was trying to take over control of Magical Britain... I'm sorry, I know it's harsh, but I just can't see Professor Dumbledore being a match for him. And if we are actually assuming that You-Know-Who has that level of intelligence in addition to at least that much power... well, if I saw Professor Quirrell failing to take over the Ministry, I would conclude that he was trying to achieve something else entirely."

Much to his credit, Mr. Moody ignored McGonagall's frantic spluttering and Snape's impatient snort and actually thought about the question for a minute.

"I don't know about Albus Dumbledore not being a match for your Professor, lad," he finally said, "But it's a good question all the same. I must confess I hadn't considered it." He took a draught from his hipflask, and barked a short laugh. "So much for constant vigilance, eh? But to answer your question, I don't know. If he has an ulterior motive, we'd have to know what he wants, and assume that it's not just to rule Britain with an iron fist. The obvious thought is that he's going for world domination, of course, but...'

"... that might be a little too obvious," Harry finished.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your little paranoia exchange," Snape drawled, "but are we still going from the assumption that Quirrell is Monroe? It doesn't make much sense that the Dark Lord and his own enemy would be the same person."

Harry and Moody looked at each other. They both saw the obvious in the same instant.

"– does it?" Snape asked.

"I think –" Harry swallowed. "I think I would like to visit the bathroom for a bit."

The ex-Auror narrowed his eyes. "Why, all of a sudden?"

Harry didn't think he'd get an urgent need past this attentive man, so he just shrugged. "I fear we may be getting carried away just a little here, and I want a few private moments to consider for myself how likely this line of reasoning actually is. Plus, I really do need to use the bathroom."

"Perhaps we should move, too," Professor McGonagall suggested. "Dinner will be over by now, and I expect the Headmaster will soon want his chambers back. Shall we reconvene in my office in five minutes?"

Moody fixed Harry with a glare of one black and one horrid blue eye. "You're hiding something, aren't you, kid?"

Harry normally would have come up with a perfectly innocent answer that would be just as it should be if he had nothing to hide. He should have. But he was feeling a little unsettled, to put it mildly, so he just shrugged, opened the door, and stepped onto the spiraling staircase alone.

Think, he told himself. Think, think, think.

Had they actually stumbled upon the right hypothesis?

It is plausible, said Ravenclaw. But that doesn't necessarily mean that it's true.

Mr. Moody and Professor Snape are quite convinced of Voldemort's evil genius, Slytherin pointed out. They may be wizards, with all the usual fallacies, but they are not stupid. They seemed to have experienced plots of a level that would match an intellect like the Defense Professor's. And now we have the answer as to why an intelligent Voldemort would fail.

The Defense Professor had told him he hadn't even bothered keeping count of how many people he was. If he was a Dark Wizard, he would definitely be the kind who changed personalities like other people change clothes. Certainly he could step into the shoes of the Dark Lord Voldemort, an evil but ultimately ineffective terrorist bent on rulership and the extermination of Muggleborns. Indeed, Quirrell had told Harry exactly how to play that role, which struck him as somewhat suspicious, now that he thought about it.

But aside from the role of Lord Voldemort, what if he had also heard about a missing member of a Noble House, and stepped into the shoes of David Monroe? It wouldn't have been at all hard to have the other members of the house murdered by "Voldemort". And that action had both benefited Voldemort, whose name was made, and Monroe, who became the sole heir to his Noble House.

And thus, a cliched hero was born, Slytherin concluded calmly. One whom everyone would follow in his "fight" against the Dark Wizard that threatened their lives.

But they didn't, Gryffindor observed. That's what Moody said. Monroe, Crouch, Bones, and Longbottom were the only ones to act. The others were afraid to step up.



Not afraid, Ravenclaw said. Bystander Apathy. They must have known that Monroe's failure would end badly for themselves. They had far more to lose from not acting than they had to fear from following Monroe. But they all hoped that someone else would solve the problems instead.



So Professor Quirrell misestimated other people?" Hufflepuff spoke up disbelievingly. You are saying that Quirrell was not pessimistic enough about other people's readiness to act?

This was twenty years ago, Ravenclaw pointed out. People change.

Or this is the reason why he's cynical. Slytherin suggested.

If Monroe's goal had been to get people to accept a light mark, to get the entire country to follow him willingly rather than winning power by force, he must have come to realize soon enough that he wasn't going to succeed.

And so, Monroe had disappeared, and the Dark Lord had carried on.

But even then, he still failed to overthrow the government, Ravenclaw pointed out. That must have been deliberate. To what purpose?

Harry massaged his head. This answer came up blank. But that didn't mean the line of reasoning was necessarily flawed. It might just mean that there was something he hadn't yet thought of. Something that could take a clever villain two years to come up with. A smart enemy could make a plot that you wouldn't expect, and wouldn't understand afterwards. Like the Aurors still didn't understand how or why Bellatrix Black had been saved; they only had a false conclusion to go on (although, now that Harry thought about it, if Quirrell was indeed the same person as Voldemort, the conclusion might not be that incorrect). But it was entirely possible that there was a very good explanation for why a smart Voldemort had failed to overthrow the government, and that Harry just wasn't clever enough to see it.

It was amazing how much more obvious that was, now that he considered the possibility of Professor Quirrell being the evil genius.

But that is not certain, the part of Hufflepuff piped up that didn't like to think badly of Professor Quirrell. Perhaps not even likely. I mean, how much do we really have to go on, here? It was just an idea. Mad-Eye Moody might take the hypothesis seriously, but judging by the others' reaction, he often takes outlandish theories seriously. Could it be that we're just jumping to conclusions?

True, Slytherin observed. It is also entirely possible that Monroe and Voldemort were just working together, but are different individuals.



Or everything is as it seems, Hufflepuff suggested. He could just be a good man, who helped to pull this country through the first years of the war.

I agree that we need more data, Ravenclaw conceded. What do we know that we could base our view on?

There was the Azkaban breakout, of which Harry knew more than anyone else. Harry's mysterious feeling of Doom when the Defense Professor got too near, which he had to admit made a lot more sense if the Professor was indeed his destined enemy. Everything Quirrell had ever said – he might have been playing a role, but wouldn't there still have been some unguarded moments where he let parts of his real self shine through? There was the prophecy, which he'd still have to get Dumbledore to let him hear for himself, and his mysterious dark side. Not to mention the Dark Lord's mysterious death ten years ago, which seemed like a highly anomalous and probably important event. There was the view which Snape and McGonagall and Dumbledore and Moody held about Voldemort. And there was the attack on Draco and Hermione, which the Defence Professor had played a role in – indeed, if he had perpetrated it, then Draco had never been meant to die at all – but for which there were also other suspects, such as Dumbledore or Snape.

He sighed, finished his business in the bathroom, and stumbled over to Professor McGonagall's office. They'd be waiting for him.

"... health condition is getting worse," Professor McGonagall was saying, as Harry opened the door and slipped into the office. "It is by no means certain that it will be any ill-doing on his part which prevents us from renewing his employment."

"And you don't think that condition suspicous?" Moody asked darkly. "Amelia thinks he stepped into the path of a high-level curse, but that sounds little optimistic to me. She's believing what she wants to think."

"Amelia Bones strikes me as a sensible Head of the DMLE," Professor McGonagall said coldly. "And you have no proof that it is anything dark like you're suggesting."

"That man might as well be wearing a sign saying 'Dark Wizard' in glowing green letters over his head! And he's teaching his students the killing curse, for Merlin's sake!"

"Um, excuse me," Harry asked. He had taken the last empty chair and sat down on its arm. "But why is that bad, exactly? He does make it clear we're never to use the unforgivable curses against humans. And a Cutting Hex can kill someone too. So why's it any better to use a Reducto instead of Avada Kedav-"

"Shut your mouth!" Moody said sharply. "Someone might take it the wrong way, your saying that incantation. You look too young to cast it, but there's such a thing as Polyjuice. And to answer your question, boy, there's two reasons why that spell's in the blackest book. The first is that the Killing Curse strikes directly at the soul, and it'll just keep going until it hits one. Straight through shields. Straight through walls. There's a reason why even Aurors fighting Death Eaters weren't allowed to use it before the Monroe Act."

"Ah," said Harry. "That does seem like an excellent reason to ban –"

"I'm not finished, son. The second reason is that the Killing Curse doesn't just take a powerful bit of magic. You've got to mean it. You've got to want someone dead, and not for the greater good, either. When I used it for the first time, to kill Gerald Grice, I knew that it wouldn't bring back Blair Roche, or Nathan Rehfuss, or David Capito. It wasn't for justice, or to stop him doing what he had done again. I wanted him dead. You understand now, lad? You don't have to be a Dark Wizard to use that spell – but you can't be Albus Dumbledore, either. And if you're arrested for killing with it, there's no possible defense."

"I... see," murmured the Boy-Who-Lived. You can't want the person dead as an instrumental value on the way to some positive future consequence, you can't cast it if you believe it's a necessary evil, you have to actually want them dead for the sake of being dead, as a terminal value in your utility function. "A magically embodied preference for death over life, striking within the plane of pure life force... that does sound like a difficult spell to block."

"Not difficult," Moody snapped. "Impossible."

Harry nodded gravely. "But David Monroe – or whoever – used the Killing Curse against a couple of Death Eaters even before they wiped out his family. Does that mean he already had to hate them? Like, the martial arts story was probably true?"

Moody shook his head slightly. "One of the dark truths of the Killing Curse, son, is that once you've cast it the first time, it doesn't take much hate to do it again."

"It damages the mind?"

Again Moody shook his head. "No. It's the killing that does that. Murder tears the soul – but that's just the same if it's a Cutting Hex. The Killing Curse doesn't crack your soul. It just takes a cracked soul to cast." If there was a sad expression on the scarred face, it could not be read. "But that doesn't tell us much about Monroe. The ones like Dumbledore who'll never be able to cast the Curse all their lives, because they never crack no matter what – they're the rare ones, very rare. It only takes a little cracking."

There was a strange heavy feeling in Harry's chest. He'd wondered what exactly it had meant, that Lily Potter had tried to cast the Killing Curse at Lord Voldemort with her last breath. But surely it was forgiveable, it was right and proper for a mother to hate the Dark Wizard who was coming to kill her baby, mocking her for how she couldn't stop him. There was something wrong with you as a parent if you couldn't cast Avada Kedavra, in that situation. And no other spell could've gone past the Dark Lord's shields; you'd have to at least try to hate the Dark Lord enough to want him dead for the sake of being dead, if that was the only way to save your baby.

It only takes a little cracking...

"Enough," said Professor McGonagall. "I admit that there are certain... bad signs. But there are also some really good signs, if he actually is this Monroe person. We know that Monroe approved of the killing curse in certain situations, so that does seem to fit. Even if his condition was caused by... a dark ritual gone wrong or something like that, I'd take it, if the students learn to defend themselves. Don't you understand how important that is? We cannot just afford to get rid of him on the basis of some far-fetched theory!"

Moody shrugged, and turned back to Harry. "Before going on, I'd like to ask Mr. Potter here whether he's made up his mind to tell us yet, whatever it is he's hiding." He fixed Harry with a stare. "And don't try to pretend you're not hiding anything, it won't work."

Harry quickly searched his brain for something to say. In truth, he probably should tell them all about the Azkaban breakout, tell them now, so they could reason with full information. But the rules of cooperative discourse generally assumed that you weren't in risk of getting arrested and hauled off to a torture house by your conversation partners if you spoke your mind, and Moody was probably quite ready to do that if Harry explained his part in Bellatrix Black's escape, he wasn't like Dumbledore who'd accept almost anything from his pet hero. He also could hardly phrase alternative suspicions about Dumbledore or Snape in present company. But there was one thing to say, which he did have an excuse for not mentioning before...

He let his face drop. "Professor McGonagall... I'm really sorry, I know it's not the Ides of May yet, but this could be really important..." And that was even true.

Professor McGonagall just looked resigned. "I suppose it might be."

Harry took a deep breath. "Every time the Defense Professor and I come too close to each other, I get this mysterious sense of Doom. He feels it too, but he says it is my doom that flares. Not sure I believe him, though," he quickly added, as he saw Moody's look. He didn't add what happened the last time their magics interacted, because Quirrell had stopped the potential magical explosion by turning into an unregistered Animagus, which would definitely get him dragged off to Azkaban, and Harry didn't want that. Even if Quirrell was indeed Voldemort, he decided, he didn't deserve Azkaban. No one did.

Are you sure about that? his Slytherin side whispered. After what he did do Bellatrix Black? And what he might have done to Hermione? Don't you remember how you felt during the trial?

I am sure, Harry answered himself. No one should ever have to go there, no matter what. It might be justice, in some cases, but it still wouldn't be right.

"A Mysterious Feeling of Doom," Moody repeated slowly. "And no hints as to its meaning? Did you tell anyone else?"

Harry shook his head.

Moody glared at McGonagall. "You knew. And you told him not to say anything? Do you want all your students to die or be recruited for Voldemort's armies?"

"I... Well..." McGonagall seemed lost for words. Harry interrupted.

"Sorry, but do you know what it means?"

"No, but here's a hint, son. How many people do you have a reason to have a mysterious dark connection with? Survive anyone else's Killing Curse recently?"

Harry had to concede that this was a fair point. No one would have an idea what a botched Killing Curse could do, since it had never failed before. Or, as his Ravenclaw side was quick to point out, the causal relation could be the other way around. If Quirrell was Voldemort, and they'd already had intertwined magics for some mysterious reason that might be related to the prophecy or to something else, then Voldemort's Killing Curse would probably have caused strange effects...

"I agree that matters do not look good for our Defense Professor," Snape cut in. "But there is an alternative we should consider. The Dark Lord saw both Harry and Monroe as his enemies. They might have been victim to the same dark curse." He turned to Harry. "You say you remember the night your parents died. Do you happen to remember what came afterwards? Did he immediately cast the Killing Curse on you?"

"I don't remember more than his eyes, looking at me..." Harry shuddered as he recalled the two blazing, crimson eyes.

"Well, I can say one thing," Moody decided. " Albus can just suck up his promise, we're going to look into that Defense Professor tonight. He did come back to the castle when Amelia released him this afternoon, right?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed. "He was at dinner." He had been planning to drop back to 7pm after this meeting to finally ask Professor Quirrell for advice on getting Hermione out of Azkaban, but that suddenly didn't seem like such a good idea anymore.

"But –" Professor McGonagall started.

"Merlin damn it, woman! When are you going to be willing to get rid of him? When the next student gets attacked? Will it be enough when the Granger girl dies?"

That hit her hard, Harry saw. But she recovered her composure quickly, and replied coolly: "I was merely going to suggest that you be careful. If he is not Voldemort, then you should not hurt him. We cannot afford to get rid of him unless we absolutely must, Alastor!"

"That's true," Harry agreed. "Even not taking his lessons into account, getting rid of him wouldn't be a free action. He saved my life twice –"

"What?" demanded Moody. "When? How?"

"Once when he knocked down a bunch of witches who were summoning me toward the ground, once when he figured out that the Dementor was draining me through my wand. And if Professor Quirrell wasn't the one who set up Draco Malfoy in the first place, then he saved Draco Malfoy's life, and things would be a lot worse if he hadn't. If the Defense Professor isn't behind it all – he's not someone we can afford to just get rid of."

"You don't believe he's Voldie, then?"

"I... How could I know that either way? I mean, I know Quirrell better than any of you, he's been my Mentor for most of the year, but I hardly know anything about You-Know-Who. And the world doesn't look the way you'd expect it to look if Quirrell was an evil psychopath bent on conquering magical Britain or the entire world. But then, what I hear about You-know-who just seems so inconsistent, and if it's really Quirrell we have to suspect, then he could be planning almost anything... honestly, I am feeling a bit out of my depth with all this."

"Get used to it, boy," Moody hissed. "That's how you'll always feel with Voldy."

"Noted."

"Regardless," Snape said. "We cannot act too hastily. If you surmise correctly, and he is the Dark Lord, then this is the one opportunity where we know where he is, without his allies by his side, and without the ability to Disapparate. He has essentially put himself right under Albus Dumbledore's power, but it will still take time, to plan a move that uses this situation. And if he isn't the Dark Lord, then the Headmaster should ideally not be seen to be involved, as a breach of his promise would likely offend Quirrell more than being a suspect." He looked at Harry for confirmation, who nodded. Quirrell would find it only natural that they would suspect him, although he might still act indignified and milk it for all its worth if the suspicions proved incorrect.

"Don't try anything tonight, or tomorrow," Professor McGonagall begged. "The school is full of children, and if the Defence Professor really is Lord Voldemort, then it could get dangerous. We can't have a battle in these walls! At least wait until Saturday, when most of the students are gone for the holidays."

"Fine," Moody bit. "But I am talking to Albus tonight. I do wonder whether he still thinks that glaringly naive promise was a good idea if it turns out he swore Voldemort into the Hogwarts wards."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Author's Note: a large part of the text overlaps the corresponding chapter of HPMoR, but aside from the large divergences, there are some small points for which it is easy to miss that they aren't part of FtP:

* House Potter was not ennobled due to avenging House Monroe; the House was always noble (in FtP, like in HP canon following Pottermore, nobility was granted by the king or queen before the Statute of Secrecy).

* Neither Gilderoy Lockhart nor Regulus Black is mentioned, so there is no reason to believe that one is a fraud and the other a dead spy.

* Harry never fought Moody, which would have been rather tricky since he doesn't have an invisibility cloak at the moment! Also, there is no reason to believe that Moody's special eye can see through Harry's cloak.