Chapter Text
"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 will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...."
No one would miss Petunia or her bloated oaf of a husband. A pity about the baby. All that was left of No 4, Privet Drive was a smoking ruin. Two days before his arrest, Rookwood had managed to track Lily Evans Potter’s Muggle sister down and pass their address to the Lestranges. Bellatrix thought the Potter baby might be there. So instead of heading for the Longbottoms’, they went to Little Whinging, Surrey. Except he was not there.
Why was Harry Potter not left at Privet Drive? Blame Hagrid. Hagrid had dropped the baby literally. Poor Harry fell out of the side car when Hagrid was dodging a flock of geese. Magic saved the baby from going splat. Harry slipped through the chimney of the Longbottoms’ house, into the nursery and settled into the crib next to baby Neville.
When Hagrid realized he had lost Harry. He was in a panic. Instead of heading to Dumbledore’s, who would have cast some nifty spell to find the child, he landed and started looking for the missing baby. Harry slept through everything, exhausted by his traumatic night. Hearing the news of Voldemort’s defeat, the Longbottoms wondered if they should lower their Wards. No, they would lower them after sending Nev to his Gran’s as planned in the morning. Hagrid would have walked right past the house without a second look.
In the morning, Alice discovered her son had somehow gained a companion. Those Wards stayed up. It was a good thing they did too. Until the last arrests were made. Dumbledore’s plans to place Harry with the Muggles had literally gone up in smoke. The Muggle authorities blamed a gas explosion, the Ministry of Magic knew better.
The Potters’ wills were read in Gringotts the following week. Frank and Alice Longbottom were in attendance, as was Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, and Albus Dumbledore. The rest who should be present were either dead (or so everyone thought) or in Azkaban. First choice Sirius Black was immediately ruled out as guardian. The next choice was Alice Longbottom, Harry’s godmother. Alice and Frank both agreed, welcoming little Harry into their family.
His brother Harry was different. Neville knew that a soon as he became aware. Harry was strong, charming, and so smart… Unlike little Neville.
“It’ll come, Nev. You’re my brother after all,” Harry would smile as he struggled to Summon Teddy over. Harry had his first display of magic before he could even walk, so Mom and Dad said. Gran made such a fuss over Harry when he lit up the Christmas tree using magic, or made the teacups dance to entertain their guests. Their friends all flocked to Harry. He was the Boy-Who-Lived after all. No one survives a Killing Curse, until Harry did. Not even Harry’s real mom and dad.
They were family now at Longbottom Manor – Gran, Dad, Mom, Harry and Nev. Not to mention the house-elves.
Soul magics were tricky things. By ripping his soul apart to create his Horcrux, Voldemort was left so unstable, a backfiring spell could blast his body out of existence. Unknown to all, including their closest friends, the desperate Potters had delved into some forbidden magic of their own to protect their son. But things did not turn out as they expected. Perhaps if there had been more time for Lily Potter to complete the ritual, or if the bone dust her husband obtained from Knockturn Alley was free from contamination.
Their little boy survived, of course. Except it was no longer the same little Harry Potter they had tucked into bed that fateful night. The only visible sign of injury was that lightning-shaped wound on his forehead, but the deflected Killing Curse seared the child’s very soul as well given his young age.
Mama? Papa? Scared… the child’s soul bled and wept. Maybe his mother’s sacrifice would have been for naught. The little one was just too frail… He would fade…
I will protect you… The confused soul shred shivered. The feeling it now felt was alien to it. Warm, welcoming… The echo of Lily’s love. It was older than the fifteen-month-old’s soul, even if it were an incomplete shard, and was stronger for that. It slipped over the crying child’s battered soul, merging with it in a way that should have been impossible. Yet it felt so right.
Tom Marvolo Riddle, Voldemort, the Dark Lord… These past identities faded away as the soul shard merged into the child’s budding soul, becoming part of Harry Potter. Harry knew things he ought not to know. He had inherited the soul shard’s knowledge and memories. He understood he was the sole heir to the Potter line, that he was a strong wizard. Then he was also heir to an older, darker lineage. He would be a powerful wizard one day. Minister of Magic, maybe even change the world.
Love. He loved his family, the Longbottoms. Not all of them though. Uncle Algie was mean and kept bullying his brother, whose magic was not that strong. Harry had to whisk Neville to safety from the sea after their Great Uncle Algie dropped him off the end of the pier when Gran took them to the seaside.
Uncle Algie vanished the morning of their tenth birthday party. No one thought much of his disappearance. Especially not when Augusta Longbottom was confronted with the debts he owed to Lord Greengrass, Lord Marchbanks and Gringotts the following week. He was always too fond of the hippogriff races.
“I’m calling him Trevor!” Neville grinned widely as he held the large toad – a present from his little brother.
Young Harry smirked as Uncle Algie croaked and blinked his yellow toad eyes and flailed in Neville’s chubby hands. It was too easy to brew the potion in secret in their treehouse as the family slept, then slip it into Uncle Algie’s hipflask. It was only a matter of time before the old wizard sneaked into his room for a nip of his whiskey after dinner. All Harry needed was to follow and capture the toad, disposing of shed garments into the laundry baskets for the elves to deal with. The shed human-skin was another matter. That he burned on the bonfire while the grown-ups and elves were distracted by the shooting stars. The grown-ups thought a rat had gotten into the firewood. Without his human skin, Uncle Algie would remain a toad for the rest of his life. It served him right for picking on Nev. No one hurts his brother.
Chief Warlock, Headmaster of Hogwarts… Albus Dumbledore… Harry did not understand why the old man made his skin crawl as he chatted with Gran. Gran looked displeased at whatever he was saying. They were too far away to be overheard. Another time, a dingy room in a building that reeked of boiled cabbages and misery. A dark-haired boy shunned and alone…
Except Harry was not alone in the world. His dear brother Neville was by his side.
He had a father who held his hand, guiding him as he held his first quill. Warm words of encouragement as his little fingers worked struggled to form his first shaky letters. A mother who spoiled her sons with hugs and made cookies with them under the house-elves’ grudging supervision. A brother who would play chess with him on rainy days, and gambol on the lawn in the sun. And Gran, sneaking them sweets when Mom was not looking. Take them out to the park when Mom and Dad were busy. A family. His family to protect.
Snakes. They had snakes in the garden and greenhouses, which were many. The Longbottom fortune was built on the cultivation of magical plants for potions after all. Neville loved his plants and would spend countless hours tending to them with his brother for company. Harry could speak to snakes. He loved nothing more than to chat with a serpent as his brother pottered about his plants. It gave Frank and Alice quite a start when he first did it at age seven. Parseltongue was a magical language shunned in Britain, especially after the War.
“Salazar Slytherin was one, perhaps the Potters are distantly descended from him…” a flustered Frank had reasoned. “It’s not unheard of for magical abilities to reemerge in a bloodline generations later… just look at Andi Tonk’s girl! First metamorphmagus in two hundred years…”
Heir of Slytherin. Harry had only smiled. Still, Dad and Mom warned him to be careful and hide his gift from outsiders, including Gran and Uncle Algie. Now he glared at Dumbledore with hatred burning in his heart. He must hide it from the Chief Warlock as well.
One day, he would be Chief Warlock, Minister of Magic. One day he will change the world. He approached the pair.
“A thousand times no, Albus… I refuse to have my grandsons gawked at in public. He is dead, let it rest already… Honour James and Lily for their sacrifice and bravery, but leave their son out of it!” Augusta snapped and thumped her cane on the stones of the terrace.
“But Harry is a hero, the darling of magical Britain… The prophecy…”
“Damn the prophecy! Your grubby mitts are all over that! The Daily Prophet… those pesky reporters we needed to Ward against… those blasted storybooks… Let it rest already. Harry is just an ordinary young wizard. Just leave him be.”
Ordinary? Harry frowned at his Gran’s words. No, he was destined for greatness. He just knew it.
Who was the last Dark Lord everyone said he vanquished? A bloke who went by the tacky name Lord Voldemort. Who was he exactly? As much as he badgered Mom and Dad for information, they would only look at him sadly. They had told him about his real parents, and their sacrifice. No one really knew much about Voldemort, or where he came from. They feared him.
Somehow Harry knew. Voldemort was a hypocrite, a madman who had already squandered his chance for greatness. His time was over. Harry Potter’s sun was just starting to rise. A potential rival, who should be neutralized at the earliest opportunity.
There was something keeping this Voldemort from dying. As much he hated to admit it, the old wizard was right. There were things he needed to do, once he was old enough…
For now, he was a ten-year-old, though a precocious one in the eyes of his family. He needed to play his part – the obedient son and loving brother. Dumbledore was old, he could not live forever. Voldemort was likely a pale shade of his former self. The darker part of him whispered. Patience, once he got his wand… The world will tremble at his feet, as it should.
Neville watched his brother’s face as he hugged his new pet. It scared him. Harry was always so kind to him, but sometimes the smiles slipped and something darker peered out. But this was his brother. The one who protected him from Uncle Algie. The one who encouraged him with his Charms even when their tutor despaired of Heir Longbottom.
“Harry, they are bringing out the cake!” he called out.
“Coming!” his brother turned. The smile was back in place. They hurried to the pavilion where their parents waited.
Notes:
In some ancient cultures, a child is not yet seen as fully human until they reach a certain age. This probably arose from the high infant mortality rates then. Ergo, a child’s soul is not fully formed. They are susceptible to malign influences, so families would place some form of protection on or near them to deter evil spirits, including referring to the child as an animal and thus unworthy of notice. Then Sirius refers to Harry as pup…
Chapter Text
The entire business of school-shopping and preparations for Hogwarts had gone off with nary a hitch, even if Ollivander had been a tad cagey when he handed Harry his first wand. Holly and phoenix feather. He might have said more if the boy had not fixed him with a glare that silenced him. Neville had been chosen by a unicorn hair and cherry wand. Harry had grudgingly accepted the gift of an eagle owl he named Gagana. He had hoped for a snake, but Dad said no. Mom and Gran kissed them goodbye on the platform while Dad wished them luck before they boarded the Hogwarts Express.
Once they found an empty compartment, Harry had Warded it against intruders. He only left to buy sweets from the Trolley Witch. He did not wish to be bothered by any other students, especially not the Weasleys. Ugh… He did not mind Bill or Charlie. Percy was a right prat as was Ron. The twins, well, they might have their uses. Neville soon grew bored and wished to see if any of his young friends were on aboard – Ernie Macmillan or Susan Bones perhaps… Trevor stayed in the terrarium Frank Longbottom had given his son to keep his pet in. It would never do for Trevor to escape at Hogwarts. Harry let his brother go off alone while he reviewed his Potions textbook aloud, with special emphasis on potions using toad parts. The childish games of Gobstones and Exploding Snap did not appeal to him. It gave him a thrill how the toad’s eyes seemed to reflect an all-too-human fear.
“Slytherin!”
There were murmurs and gasps at the Hat’s proclamation. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, hopped off the chair as soon as the Sorting Hat was lifted from his head. He strolled nonchalantly to the table of green and silver, mouthing a ‘sorry’ to his brother. The headmaster looked utterly flummoxed. But Slytherin was where he had to be, if he were to garner the support of the old pureblood elite – just as he, no, Voldemort did. Oh, he knew most of the pureblood scions who were expected to attend Hogwarts in his year – Malfoy, Nott, Greengrass and Parkinson among others.
The Weasleys had always Sorted Gryffindor, so he was not too surprised when Ron Weasley ended up in the same House as his older brothers. Abbott and Macmillan had gone into Hufflepuff. There were other lesser families like the Bones and even half-bloods he could court. The Muggleborns were always an unknown. Too much baggage from the Muggle world. At eleven, they were then let loose without any guidance into the magical world and other wix were expected to accommodate their foibles under the weak British Ministry of Magic laws. In the States they were called Newbloods, and until the 1960s, they were taken away from their birth families at the first sign of magic to be raised by magical families or in a group home with other Newbloods and magical orphans. The practice has unfortunately been discontinued in the States though it was still practiced in the Balkans and Russia.
Many of the purebloods he would be meeting in his new House were outside his parents’ social circle. He could start by reaching out to them. Only the Greengrasses had attended parties at Longbottom Manor before. Gran and Mom worked with the Greengrass matriarch on the boards of several charities. Daphne coolly gave Harry a nod. Malfoy was watching him suspiciously. Would the boy be trouble? Harry would hate for him to have an accident so early in the term. He did not have to wait long before the confrontation happened.
The Head of House gave his little welcome speech though his eyes lingered on Harry a little bit longer than any other first year. Perhaps he was questioning his presence in Slytherin, the scion of a family that had been strongly Gryffindor. He would soon prove his right to wear the colours of Slytherin.
Snape. The man who had brought the Dark Lord that scrap of prophecy. Who had set in motion the events of that fateful Halloween night. Who had later begged for the life of his childhood friend. Who was now securely ensconced in Dumbledore’s circle. The wizard had his uses for now. Let him believe Harry harmless, a mere child. Any debts that needed settling could be called in when the time is ripe. For now, there was a mewling kitten that needed to be defanged and declawed. The pretender princeling.
“Potter… This is most unexpected,” Draco sniffed once Professor Snape had left the room. Daphne had filled Harry in on the dynamics of the dark-leaning families. The Greengrasses knew when to back a winner.
“Well met, Heir Malfoy…” Harry smiled.
“How will your parents react to your being in Slytherin?”
“Oh, I am sure they would not mind a whit.”
“The Longbottoms perhaps? Longbottom looked utterly gutted… Is it true he is a squib?” Draco snickered. They were apart from the rest of the first years now. The rest having gone ahead to their dorms.
“Malfoy, leave my brother out of this or I will have your lady mother gutted and her womb fed to you while she lives…” Potter hissed. Draco’s eyes widened in shock. Clearly, he had not expected that of a Potter raised by the Longbottoms, a traditionally Light-leaning family.
“Y-you wouldn’t! I’ll tell Father! And Un- Professor Snape!” Harry rolled his eyes and silently cast a Silencio. Young Malfoy was a child after all, a spoilt princeling, but that could be fixed.
“Drakey. Tell me, should we have Snape Crucio-ed until he breaks? Or maybe your Father?”
Draco swallowed hard as Harry shoved him into their dorm. His lips parted in silent protest. Crabbe and Goyle looked up from their beds where they had already changed for the night.
“Out! And tell Zabini and Nott Malfoy wishes you to switch with them. Fetch anyone else and you will be sorry.”
Both boys scrambled out. Harry flicked his hand carelessly and Crabbe and Goyle’s trunks and clothes went flying out after their masters. The elder Goyle and Crabbe were fools and brutes. Unfortunately, their sons had inherited their brutishness and simple minds. Harry was not going to spend seven years of his life putting up with them. Blaise Zabini was the only surviving child of Contessa Zabini and her heir apparent. He might prove invaluable to securing Continental allies. Theodore Nott was an unknown, but he had been reading an advanced spell text at the Welcome Feast. Perhaps the boy had taken more after his mother than Lord Nott.
Once their roommates were gone, Harry cast a Soundproof Ward on the room and locked the door. He then lifted the Silencio off Draco.
“W-who are you?” Draco smattered as he pressed himself against the wall furthest from the Boy-Who-Lived.
“Harry James Potter, the Vanquisher of Lord Voldemort,” Harry grinned. “Now, we might have started off on the wrong foot back there…” His green eyes seemed to glow the colour of an Avada Kedavra.
“D-don’t hurt me!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t, Malfoy if you just do my bidding… And your parents might live to see you graduate… You’d make a pretty pet kneeling at my feet.”
“No, I’m a Malfoy… we do not kn-” Draco screamed as pain ripped through his body in a silent Crucio.
“Tut-tut. Didn’t your Granddaddy and Daddy tell you how readily they bent the knee to Lord Voldemort before their peers? At least I am keeping this private… Swear allegiance to me, Malfoy…” Harry smirked as he lifted the torture spell long enough for Draco to lift his head up from where he had fallen. The blond weakly shook his head. Harry lifted his wand almost regretfully.
He must be careful not to damage Heir Malfoy too much. He would need the political clout of the Malfoys, not to mention their fortune and the Blacks’. Did Draco know he was the only surviving pureblood wizard of the Black lineage through his mother since all other possible claimants had been disowned? It was a pity the once mighty Blacks had ended in such a sorry state – their entire lineage reduced to this mewling kitten.
It had taken longer to break Malfoy than he had expected. Long enough for the Soundproof Wards to weaken or for young Nott to break them. Harry had to Scroungify the mess Draco made soiling himself in the throes of the Crucios. One look at Harry and the still-shaking Draco and their new roommates shut the door, announcing to the rest of the House that all was well. There was no need to fetch their Head of House. Potter was dangerous and powerful, not to be trifled with. The whispers had spread throughout the entire House by breakfast.
Snape frowned when he saw his godson looking so pale and cowed beside Potter. Had Draco been deposed so soon as the adored prince of Slytherin? Snape had expected that with his airs and attitude, Draco might rub some of the older students the wrong way. It was not the boy’s fault. His mother had spoiled her only child rotten. Lucius instilled sporadic discipline where he could, but he always yielded to his lady wife’s whims and pleads. Snape had been prepared for some unpleasant incidents, but no one had called him. His little snakes, the NEWTs students included now orbited about Potter like the planets about a star. Prefect Warrington passed him the syrup jug when he snapped his fingers. The son of James Potter laughed and joked with the children of suspected Death Eaters as if he had been born and raised with them.
“Neville, care to join us?” Potter waved to his brother. Neville looked uncertainly between his brother and the scowling red-haired boy beside him. Ronald Weasley.
“I-I’d rather not… S-sorry…” Neville looked dejectedly at his porridge. Ron slapped him on the back, declaring aloud that no decent wizard would dine with slimy snakes. Potter frowned. That had hurt more than it should.
Ron Weasley must go. No one was stealing his brother from him even if they were in different houses.
He grabbed Draco’s wrist and squeezed lightly, enough to elicit a flinch. Under his sleeve, Draco now wore his Mark. Harry thought it an improvement on the Dark Mark – a serpent coiled around a wand. Draco was his first wand. He would have preferred if it had been bestowed in more favourable circumstances, but one must make do. At least it would keep Draco from Voldemort should he return.
“I have a letter I wish to send to my guardians…” There had been no time to visit the Owlery the night before.
“As you wish, Potter…” Draco seemed to bite back a cutting remark before accepting the wax-sealed envelope. Snape watched in disbelief from the Head Table as his godson hastened off like a messenger boy to do Potter’s bidding.
Longbottom Manor
“This is most unexpected,” Frank declared as he read Harry’s letter. His adopted son had not only been Sorted to Slytherin but had apparently befriended the offspring of suspected Death Eaters from Voldemort’s inner circle.
“What is, darling?” Alice asked as she entered the room with her mother-in-law.
“Harry’s written.” Frank passed the letter to his mother and wife. “I believe he wants to form an alliance with sons of Lord Nott and Lord Malfoy.”
“No wonder he is in Slytherin then, if he is so politically attuned,” Alice smiled after browsing through the letter. “One should not tar the entire House for the sins of a few. Just look at Scrimgeour, Shacklebolt and Andi Tonks… I would not mind hosting the boys for Yule, if Mother allows…”
“James was never so astute. Harry must have gotten it from Lily…” Frank grinned at the memory of James Potter’s short-lived Auror career before he went into hiding with his family. The younger wizard and his partner Sirius Black were forever getting into trouble acting before thinking things through. No one could have expected Black to be the traitor. Alice had been an Auror before she became a mother. They had known Rufus and Kingsley, fellow Aurors, and Andromeda Tonks nee Black, who served as their mediwitch during the First Wizarding War. His wife was right. He should reserve judgement on the sons of Malfoy and Nott. They might not have inherited their sires’ prejudices despite their upbringing.
Notes:
Gagana – a bird of Slavic folklore with iron beak and copper claws. In this AU, Harry needs something fiercer than Hedwig.
The Longbottoms have no issues with Harry being in Slytherin.
Chapter Text
Dumbledore had been uneasy since the Welcome Feast, when the Boy-Who-Lived was Sorted into Slytherin of all Houses. If only the Hat had put him in Gryffindor, away from the children of Death Eater families. He had ordered Snape to keep an eye on the boy. Harry Potter was a leader. Within the first week, he had cemented his position as the de facto leader of his year’s Housemates, and perhaps even the older Slytherins. Oh, there was nothing outwardly menacing about him. But then, Tom Riddle had been a model student in his time. He had tried to legilimenize the child, but with little success. What had he expected to find? Death Eater revels? Plots and rants against Muggleborns and Muggles? Instead, all he found were the mundane thoughts and memories of an eleven-year-old boy. Worries about homework. Memories about summer at the Longbottoms’. Nothing more or less than one would expect of an eleven-year-old boy.
Harry was polite to all his schoolmates, regardless of blood status or House. He had partnered up with Hermione Granger, a Gryffindor Muggleborn, in Potions, to everyone’s surprise. Still, Dumbledore’s instincts warned him something was off. There was the momentary look of fear on Pucey’s face when Potter quietly told him to lay off a Muggleborn Hufflepuff who had accidentally spilled ink over his notes in the library. The older student had looked fit to Hex the youngster. Then there was how Malfoy deferred to Harry. It went well beyond simple hero-worship. Not that he expected Lucius Malfoy to allow his son to indulge in that foolishness. The Malfoys were always a prideful lot. Perhaps he could find an excuse to legilimenize one of the Slytherins. Find out what is happening…
“How is Potter settling in your House, my boy?”
“Very well indeed. He’d be a good influence on his peers…” Snape replied. Snape was loyal to him. His spy. It was almost Halloween. Snape would be aching from the anniversary of Lily’s demise – weakened.
“It surprises me that you bear no ill will to Harry given your past with his father.”
“He is not his father, headmaster. The Longbottoms have raised him well. He is a credit to both them and Lily,” Snape inclined his head. “Now, if you would excuse me…”
“Has there been any changes to your Mark?”
“No, sir…” Snape rolled up his sleeve to reveal his somewhat faded Dark Mark.
“Professor Snape, I trust it went well?” Green eyes met his when he stepped into his office. The boys were there to greet him. Nott and Zabini were playing Wizards’ Chess. Draco was reading a book. His sleeve was rolled up to expose his new Mark
“We should step up Occlumency training for you three,” Snape declared once he had shut the door and secured it. “Potter will assist.”
The Potions Master rubbed his hand lightly over his exposed forearm. The Dark Mark melted into a new form. Harry grinned. Severus Snape had sworn an oath without being asked to protect him. He was his second wand, his shield and sword. Nott and Zabini had also joined his little cabal. The headmaster was already suspicious and would levy his legilimency against his closest friends. Most pureblood families have taught their children basic shielding, especially those who delved into the darker aspects of magic. The Longbottoms did not practice Occlumency, but Harry had an instinct for it all the same, along with its sister art.
“Potter… why should I trust you when your vision sound so much like his?”
A pained rasp. Snape knew he had underestimated the boy. He would never imagined Potter capable of duelling as viciously as he did. Then there was the inexplicable weakness that overtook him when he fired his first Curse at his opponent.
The Potions classroom was now in shambles. He had called Potter to remain after class, the last lesson before dinner. Draco was now Casting Cleaning Charms over the worktables covered with spilled potions. The boy had somehow bound his godson to him. He had thought Potter an imposter. A possible Death Eater or Voldemort’s servant replacing Lily’s son. Harry sat on the teacher’s desk twirling his wand in his hand in an unsettlingly familiar manner. A fuming Snape was pinned to the ground on his knees after a very effective Bone-Melting Hex.
“Because my vision is not his, Snape… For starters, why should we turn away Magic’s gift of Muggleborn wix to strengthen our bloodlines? A Muggleborn witch is no lesser than a pureblood. Moreover, you have sworn an oath to protect me… Will you risk your very life and magic over mere semantics?” Those green eyes looked almost sincere.
“Think about it, Professor… Join us, change the world for the better. Or I will be forced to regrettably silence you. Can’t have the headmaster playing his games with us, can we, Draco? Potion accidents are messy. You might also want to give more guidance to my brother Neville, who will be pairing up with Draco in the name of inter-house unity…”
In the end, Harry was glad Snape had eventually seen sense. He had Draco fetch the Skele-Gro to regrow his disintegrated leg bones. Professor Snape had to cancel the lessons for the next day. They had an interesting Saturday afternoon discussing the state of wizarding Britain while Snape healed. Harry Potter was never going to be as Light as the headmaster and the wizarding public believed. He had a ruthless streak comparable to any Dark Lord. But he was still Lily Evan’s son. That would have to be enough for Severus Snape.
Hermione Granger was a project Harry was keen to undertake – educating a Muggleborn witch of her calibre in the traditions of magic such that she would be indistinguishable from a pureblood like the Malfoys or Blacks. After all, his own mother Lily had been Muggleborn and had excelled as a witch during her too-short life. He had discussed his theories pertaining to Muggleborns with his wands. Were they distantly descended from squibs who have left the magical world? Early writings predating the Statutes did not have an equivalent term for squib or Muggleborn. Just magical or mundane.
Neville had been surprised when Draco Malfoy volunteered to partner him for Potions. The blond was smart and helpful, a far cry from what he had heard from Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott. He had expected Malfoy to be a bully. Professor Snape was stern and horribly biased in favour of his house, but he seemed to be curbing his tongue of late. Ron Weasley seemed confused by how nice the Slytherins were acting. Whispers had it that Professor Snape had an accident and almost died. He had to cancel lessons for a day and was missing over the weekend. Maybe he decided to change for the better.
He had tried to speak with Ron Weasley, but the redhead refused to listen. The Slytherins were not all bad. His brother was one of them, and Harry was no bigot. Granger was also ticked Ron was going on about her study sessions with Harry and her interest in magical traditions.
Trolls did not pop out of nowhere in Hogwarts. Voldemort, or what was left of him was behind this. Harry had sensed and taken a dislike to their stuttering DADA instructor. He was suspicious, but that shameful performance at the Halloween Feast? And Miss Granger getting injured? Snape had already forewarned Harry and his godson about the headmaster’s ill-thought plan to trap Voldemort’s wraith, even if he was not privy to all the defences set up by his colleagues. McGonagall’s might involve chess, and Sprout’s was based on plants. No one had expected Granger to be so cowed by that bully Weasley to end up crying in the girls’ bathroom where the rogue troll eventually ended up. In the end they were too late.
A fuming Harry watched as Granger was emergency Floo-ed to St Mungo with multiple fractures. Snape had also been injured after he discovered what Hagrid’s obstacle was while trying to stop Quirrell from stealing the Philosopher’s Stone. Harry had discussed the Stone with his cabal, and decided it was best to leave it where it was, for now at least. Granger was expected to be hospitalized for a fortnight given the severity of her injuries. Having to regrow one’s ribcage and lungs would do that,
A second student would be emergency Floo-ed to St Mungo’s within the week. Ron Weasley was not so fortunate. The rogue Bludger that flew into the Gryffindor stands during the Gryffindor-Slytherin match had cracked open his skull like an eggshell. There was no returning from that, even with Madam Pomfrey’s Charm keeping his heart beating.
Snape raised an eyebrow at Potter, who was urging a Calming Draught on Longbottom. Neville had been sitting next to Ron Weasley. His robes were now spotted with blood and brain matter. Harry was nonchalantly Casting a Cleaning Charm to remove the mess. Madam Hooch had inspected the Quidditch balls before the match, as she always did after that infamous match-fix in 1987, but Draco and Harry had gone up to her shortly after the inspection to discuss the loan of school brooms for distance flying.
Like the Grangers were, Professor McGonagall informed Weasleys. Two of her lions grievously injured within the term. Unlike the Muggle Grangers, Ron’s parents were able to see him in St Mungo’s where the healers had a series of complicated Charms on the boy to keep his heart beating his lungs working. Arthur paled and Molly screamed when the Chief Healer informed them of the bad news. Brain dead. Ron was for all purposes gone. Poor Molly still had her six remaining children to think of. It might be best for them to let Ron go.
“That was clumsily done,” Snape whispered to Potter later when the cabal met after dinner for their private training session.
“I do not know what you are speaking of, sir,” Potter smiled. Snape’s eyes narrowed as he probed the boy’s Shields. They were holding well.
“The old man is suspicious.”
“I know and I do not care one whit.”
“You should be careful.”
“Neville’s sensitive… I think I might have waited until he wasn’t with Ron…” Was that a twinge of remorse? Maybe he was mistaken.
“Not sure if anyone else here has worked it out yet. Quirrell is not just working for Voldie. He is possessed by him,” Harry then dropped his bombshell. He had felt the pull coming from the DADA instructor, followed by repulsion. The pull was the longing for a soul to reunite its pieces. The repulsion because the soul fragment in him had melded entirely with the soul of the baby that night. Given more time, the pull would vanish.
“Wh-what should we do?” Theo stammered.
“Obviously, they both must be removed, permanently.”
“Poison?” Draco suggested. “A little something from Knockturn?” Draco had settled well into his role as Potter’s right hand. After that first night, Snape had no reason to suspect that his godson had been subject to any further Curses. Their apparent friendship had raised eyebrows and caused a few Owls from Malfoy Senior to be sent to Uncle Sev. Snape had reassured Lucius that his son was in good hands. Moreover, the Potter boy was a good influence on him. Perhaps they should consider extending an invitation for Yule to the Longbottoms. Thought they were Light-oriented, the family was an old one and still followed the old magical traditions.
“No, that might do for Quirrell, but not our pesky Dark Lord. Quirrell’s not going to last the year, the DADA curse aside. There is some reason why he is still on this plane of existence. We need to work out why and then how to get him properly dead.”
Fond memories, Snape thought wryly. Once again, he was sitting in a room planning the murder of a colleague.
Notes:
Snape is firmly in Potter’s pocket now thanks to his oath. Even if Harry is an aspiring Dark Lord, he is still Lily’s son. Ron’s demise is due to his trying to replace Harry as Nev’s best friend and brother, and his causing Hermione to end up in St Mungo’s.
Chapter 4: Something Wicked
Notes:
I realized I have been neglecting this, so a bit of a kick start. A change in the title as I have decided that Harry might not be the Black heir after all.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Granger’s all but caught up. Thought her folks were going to transfer her out…” Draco remarked as he rubbed Harry’s feet where he was kneeling. Harry looked up from his book of Soul Magics, cunningly Charmed to look like a dull history book. They might have had a rocky start, but Draco had inherited his sire’s instincts for self-preservation. Like so many of the Slytherins, he was still working out how to keep on Harry’s good side. Massaging his feet was one little service he was too glad to provide in the privacy of their dorm.
“How’s my brother Neville doing in class, especially Potions? Be truthful now…” Draco made a choking noise.
“Longbottom’s still unable to comprehend the theory behind magic. He’s a wreck in Potions… I believe the only class he could hope to score at is- Ow!” Draco was on the floor nursing a bleeding nose.
Harry frowned. He had kicked his dorm-mate in the face. He really shouldn’t fly off the handle like so. “Sorry, come over here…”
Draco whimpered as he crawled over to Harry. A fleeting memory of an older Malfoy crawling on his hands and knees to kiss his robe like a supplicant. Indeed, the apple did not fall far from the tree. An Episkey fixed Draco’s nose. He hushed Draco as he lay with his cheek upon his thigh. The boy had such soft hair. Harry could not resist stroking it. They were still young. Maybe Draco could be persuaded to grow out his hair in the coming years.
“My godbrother can’t be allowed to continue disgracing us… Would a Wit-Sharpening potion work?”
“In the short-term perhaps. But the body will develop immunity… May I humbly suggest a tutor for Longbottom? Perhaps Percy Weasley. He is close to the top of his year for a lion… Or perhaps a Ravenclaw…”
“The Longbottom heir cannot find the right end of his wand… Will the tutor tell?”
“There is always a contract we can have them sign off on…”
“What of Potions?”
“We can speak to my godfather. Uncle Sev thinks your brother just gets all panicky in Potions. He has been trying not to yell, but this was the second cauldron he exploded…”
Harry quietly turned his attention away from Neville Longbottom. He had coaxed the pureblood girls of Slytherin to befriend Hermione, to educate her on the rituals and wix festivals no longer practised at Hogwarts. Hermione’s curiosity did not disappoint. For a lark, the young witches had carried out the Unicorn Summoning ritual at the edge of the forest under the first full moon of winter. A wild unicorn foal and his dam had responded to Granger’s invitation. That was when the ritual went awry.
Something dark and evil had attacked the unicorns. Granger, Greengrass and Parkinson barely managed to chase it off. They were rescued by the half-giant groundskeeper and a centaur. The witches were assigned detention for their escapade and lost points for their Houses. The lions gave poor Hermione the cold shoulder for a week. The headmaster also gave a lecture at breakfast about not venturing into the Forbidden Forest or carrying out dark rituals. Which was garbage as the Unicorn-Inviting was a light magic ritual that only necessitate a virgin offering fruits and flowers in exchange for a unicorn’s blessings. Every magically-raised witch had been tempted at least once to invoke the ritual. One would think the witches were dancing naked and summoning demons the way the old man was going on.
News had travelled fast. Everyone was spooked. The students gave the edge of the forest a wide berth and hastened to the safety of the castle walls as soon as the sunlight started going. A dark wraith. If only Harry could scotch that abomination that was Voldemort. He had been reading up on Horcruxes but here his memory, or Tom’s, grew muddled. It bothered Harry that he had clear memories of Tom Riddle from when he was a child, until when he was in his fifth or sixth year. It was afterwards that his memories started getting confused. Perhaps it was due to the disintegration of Tom Riddle’s soul.
For Voldemort to have survived that night, he would have had Horcruxes squirrelled away. They would need to be destroyed. Then what of himself, a soul that was once part of Tom’s. Could he continue existing as a separate being? Snape had worked hard on the problem, ordering in secret books on the darkest magics to no avail. There was no means of killing the wraith. So long as he had no corporeal form… so long as he was still anchored by his soul shards to life…
“Do you suppose we could trap that wraith in something?” Harry drawled.
“Perhaps, like a mirror or something?” Draco suggested. “Maybe I can find something in the Malfoy vaults that might work…”
“No, I think what we need is already here…”
The old man must have a plan, as convoluted as it was. Harry made a note to approach Snape again to ask about the other professors involved so they could work out their trials. Some obstacle course.
Harry and Neville headed home to Longbottom Manor for the coming holidays. Gran had declined to allow the boys to attend the Malfoys' Yule Ball, citing other plans by the family. Those plans turned out to include a quartet of Weasleys. Someone had convinced Dad and Mom to allow the Weasley siblings to stay over while their parents grieved. Harry grumbled as he watched the interlopers. Well, it could have been worse. They might have been hosting the entire clan of redheads.
Percy Weasley was the eldest of the four, now three Weasleys in Hogwarts. Fifth-year prefect, a brilliant student. It was a wonder he did not end up in Ravenclaw. A touch of ambition in that one, a desire to rise above his current circumstances, starting with a job in the Ministry of Magic and working up. But a prat all the same. The twins were subdued after the loss of their brother, but time would tell if Harry’s housemates would be safe from their pranks.
The last of the siblings was what intrigued Harry. A little girl just on the cusp of starting school. Ginerva Weasley. She shyly hung behind her elder brother Percy when the house-elves came to take their bags. Harry mused that it would be a coup to have one or more of the Weasleys on his side. Perhaps the younger ones.
Dumbledore had to show up and spoil things. He came bumbling in through the Floo at teatime with Christmas gifts for the Weasleys, Neville and Harry. Harry thanked the headmaster for the presents. One had to be polite. His present was an invisibility cloak that ought to have been in the Potter vault instead of in the hands of the Chief Warlock. Frank had been outraged, but there was nothing he could do on his foster son’s behalf. Better late than never, right? Harry quietly pulled his dad aside and told him he wanted to have the cloak placed in the Potter vault where it belonged. Gran then invited the old coot for tea in her parlour.
“Oh, they would make a lovely pair…” Mom gushed when Neville showed Ginny his Flutterbys in the spacious Longbottom greenhouse.
Harry frowned but he knew that as Longbottom heir, Neville would need a wife when he came of age. The Malfoys already had a betrothal discussion ongoing with the Parkinsons for their heir. Nott was already engaged to a second cousin in Norway. Such was the way of the old families, to try setting their children’s futures in stone. But surely his brother could do better than a skinny girl like Ginny.
Well, there was her mom’s fecundity to consider. Most old pureblood families only managed one offspring. Two if they were lucky like the Greengrasses, even if both were daughters. Harry studied his brother and their guest. Neville seemed to have gotten over his initial shyness. He made a joke which had Ginny giggling. Harry pictured the pair ten years from now, with a gaggle of children at their heels to call him uncle. It was not too unpleasant a thought. Moreover, Neville did seem to like speaking with Ginny, a far cry from Draco’s interactions with his possible fiancée. Harry had watched with quiet amusement the blonde’s attempts to escape Pansy Parkinson. He might offer to help Draco arrange a little incident with Pansy, except it was so amusing to watch him fumble and panic. The witch had the persistence of a bulldog.
“Percy, we’d like to engage you as a tutor…” Frank Longbottom ventured. Harry smiled. Dad had not noticed that Compulsion he slipped over him while they were showing their guests the greenhouses. The twins had run on ahead to the kitchens for a snack. Alice remained with her son and Ginny in the greenhouse. Ginny wanted to see the fairies who lived in there among the winter roses.
“Nev needs some help with his lessons though we believe it is more from his lack of confidence…” Frank paused to take a puff on his pipe. “Of course, we will arrange for you to be recompensated for your time… Will a Galleon an hour suffice?”
“Oh, I will be honoured, sir!” Percy’s eyes glowed with delight. It was not every day that one was offered a job by the Director of the Magical Law Enforcement. Harry hummed and leapt onto a low wall. He carefully tiptoed along the top like any mischievous child his age might.
“We should have Harry sit in as well, so Nev does not feel he’s been singled out…” Alice murmured. No one had seen her rejoin their party.
Wait, what? He has to spend time with Prefect Percy? Harry’s foot slipped on a patch of ice. He fell heavily. He heard the snap of bone before the pain hit. He bawled like a child. Mom and Dad were immediately fussing over him and summoning the house elves.
As he was carried back to his room on a stretcher by the elves. Harry looked up to see Gran and Dumbledore peering down at him from the third-floor gallery, where the Longbottom library was. What were they doing up there?
Gran hardly went to the library now with her weak knees. Moreover, most of the commonly used tomes were in the den or Dad’s study. Unless the old man had persuaded Gran to bring him to the library for some reason.
They were calling the healer. The break was a bad one. Harry felt sick when he saw the bone poking out at an odd angle in his shin. It hurt, almost as bad as when the older snakes cracked his ribs in his… Wait, that was Tom Riddle. One must be careful to separate the memories. Snape had warned him during their lessons. He might go barking mad otherwise. Neville cast a worried look over his shoulder as Dad ordered him to take their guests to the brown sitting room. Harry needed some quiet. They needed Neville to play host since Gran was busy with the headmaster and Harry was injured.
“M-mum…” Harry whimpered.
“I’m here, my darling…” Alice kissed him on the brow. The Floo. The family healer was finally here.
Notes:
Sorry if Harry sounds a bit schizoid in this fic. There is the part of him that is Harry Potter, and a part of him which he inherited from Tom Riddle thanks to that soul shard merging with his injured soul as a baby.
Chapter 5: Winter Rites
Notes:
Think of the wix celebration of Yule as a mix of pagan rituals rather than Christmas. The rituals are not Dark per se, it’s just that not all families follow them in the more Muggle-friendly climate under Dumbledore.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The healer had been firm about not putting too much weight on his new bones for the next few days. Spending the reminder of his Christmas break in bed was not exactly on Harry’s to-do list. Yet one must be adaptable. Being in bed kept him from needing to entertain their guests, though he fretted when Neville had to be called away to mingle with the Weasleys. Having Mom and Dad fussing over him was nice, well, in moderation. He soon coaxed them to leave him be to allow the bones to grow in quietly.
Tom did not have the luxury of doting parents. In the orphanage, he considered himself lucky if the nurse deigned to even look at him outside the regular delousing. A spoonful of castor oil was expected to be medicine enough for all ills. When an older boy broke his leg falling under the milk cart, they had taken him to the hospital. He never came back. But Harry was no neglected orphan.
They would have the traditional Yule dinner, followed by the rituals. Harry should be able to attend the Yule dinner in a bathchair, but Dad decided he was to sit out the outdoor Yule rites. Harry wondered if their redhead guests would be participating as well. Did the Weasleys follow the old ways? Or might he be able to interest them if they did not?
He stared at the canopy of his four-poster bed. Emerald green, like his eyes. He had chosen the colour himself when Dad decided the boys were old enough to have their own bedrooms instead of sharing. It also gave him the privacy he needed to delve into more questionable aspects of magic… A click of the doorknob. Harry sat up and glared at the intruder.
Dumbledore.
“Apologies, Harry my boy… I seem to have made a wrong turn to the bathroom…” A likely story.
“Turn left, straight until you reach the Sunflowers painting, turn right. It should be outside Gran’s parlour.”
“Now, since I am here, how are you feeling?” The old coot was at his bedside. The old coot was sitting on the edge of his bed… Harry fought the urge to Hex his nose off.
“Tired… My leg hurts…”
“Ah- Skele-gro… How are you doing in Slytherin? Any problems with bullies?”
“I have lots of friends there, thank you…” Harry allowed a hint of annoyance to melt into his tone. He tried to avoid looking the old man in the eye.
“Really? Are you close to Malfoy?”
“Of course, He is a decent chap… He’s been helping Nev with his Potions…” Harry smiled guilelessly. “Is that a problem, sir?” Their eyes met. He could feel the probing. He shoved a memory of Neville, Draco and him doing homework in the library.
“I see…” the headmaster sounded almost disappointed. “Do you have any curiosity about the third-floor corridor?”
“You warned us to keep away at the Welcome Feast. I do not want to disgrace Dad and Mom by sneaking about there and breaking rules…” Harry replied. He yawned. “Sorry, sir… I would like to sleep a bit before dinner…”
“Very well… I’ll be seeing you back in Hogwarts…” Dumbledore finally lifted his bulk off the edge of the bed and left the room. Harry wanted until the footsteps died away before summoning a house-elf.
“Mikos! I need you to change my bedlinens… And Ward the Family Wing against outsiders…”
“Young sir, the old man? He Madam’s guest…” the elf hesitated.
“I don’t want him in my room or my brother’s…” Harry snapped. The elf shivered at the vehemence in the boy’s voice. He gave a curt nod and snapped his bony fingers. Harry felt the magic shift and resettle about his room and Nev’s next door. The elf then switched out his bedlinens.
“Mikos, did the old man take anything from the library with or without Gran’s knowledge?”
“Mikos cannot say… I call Hoopy… She with Mistress…” A second elf Apparated into Harry’s room. She was Madam Longbottom’s personal elf.
“Old warlock asked Mistress for two books. For research…” the she-elf sniffed. “Soul Magicks by Lavina Leblanc and Magick Moste Evil…”
Harry had to restrain himself from Hexing the elves. The old man must have suspected Tom made Horcruxes. Instead, he thanked both elves politely and asked that they did not trouble the rest of the family with it.
What now? Since Dumbledore has taken an interest in Harry Potter, should he continue with his plans to end Quirrell and hopefully Voldemort? Or act the submissive pawn – a hero fashioned by Dumbledore? His cabal was unreachable. He was alone. He could not drag Neville in…
The cogs in his mind were whirring. Dumbledore wanted Harry Potter to start poking about the third floor where all the traps were. Did he think him a Gryff to ran headlong into danger? Or could he move someone else onto the board in his stead? Neville or Hermione? Hermione had the smarts needed to survive. Then Neville was the only other boy whose birth fitted the dumb prophecy. Let His Smug Garishness think he got it wrong… He might almost regret being so hasty with Ron Weasley. Almost.
The next day was Christmas. The Longbottoms would have a festive dinner before heading out for the annual rites to honour the turn of the seasons and the return of the sun. Everyone would wear their best clothes, gifted to them that morning. Harry could not help grinning at the Weasley siblings. Mom and Dad must have pitched in to get them new clothes, proper clothes not from the second-hand section of Gladrags. Percy and the twins wore matching robes of charcoal greys, forest green or earthy brown. Nothing too bright given they were still mourning a loss. Their sister had a winter brown frock that matched her eyes. Harry and Neville wore brighter robes of green and red.
“Have you done this before?” Harry asked the eldest Weasley nonchalantly. They were waiting for dessert to be served.
“Not really… Not since Granny Ella passed…” Percy confessed. “Mom and Dad just bring us over to Otterly Yule Fest…”
“A pity… This is all about family. Ginerva should learn about the rites…” Harry hinted and lifted an eyebrow at where Ginny and Neville were chatting over their spiced pears. He accepted the dessert offered to him by one of the elves.
“So will you be joining us?” Percy goggled at the notion that the Longbottoms would very well be future in-laws. Surely they would prefer a girl from a well-off family.
“Alas, no. I will be watching from the terrace until it is time to honour our elves…”
“Wait, what do you mean by that?”
“The Longbottoms follow the tradition of thanking our house-elves by offering them honey-cake, milk, and cloth in a ceremony before the kitchen hearth. It is a small ceremony to reaffirm our bond with them,” Harry explained. He looked innocently at Percy. “After all the chores they do for us year-round, it is no hardship…”
An hour later, Harry was watching the rites on the lawn from the terrace. He was warmly bundled in furs and Warming Charms as he sat in his bathchair. There was a soft pop as Mikos Apparated beside him. The elf wrung his hands.
“It’s too early for the Hearth Ritual, Mikos…”
“Mikos know. Mikos just need to ask. Master Harry not let Master Nev get hurt…”
“Why would I let him get hurt? He’s my brother.”
“Meddlesome headmaster…”
“Mikos… Neville has nothing to fear from me… I will keep him safe always…” Even with a tiresome headmaster about?
Harry frowned. Neville mattered. He savoured that warm feeling inside which was not in the least bit unpleasant. The family was finishing up at the bonfire, tossing the effigy of dried wood and rags into the flames to send off the old year. Ash and sparks flew into the air, mixing with the snow that was gently drifting down. Gran, Dad and Mom chanted the closing incantations. The bonfire would be allowed to burn itself out. Rosy-cheeked, the children hastened ahead of the adults. There was mulled wine and cider in the hall waiting. Harry motioned for Mikos to wheel him back in.
A three-headed dog on a trapdoor. Orpheus. Music to soothe the savage beast. Then they need to work out what came next. Professor Sprout’s gauntlet of deadly plants? Or was it the Charms or Transfiguration Professors’? Snape’s was a logic puzzle. The fool Quirrell’s involved a troll, simply because that was the only beast the DADA instructor had any practical experience with as a Muggle Studies professor. Unless he did some crash course in Dark Creatures during his sabbatical… Harry had sent Nott’s elf to question the Hogwarts kitchen elves. Raw meat, several hundred pounds per week, had been set aside to feed Fluffy, but also ‘large and smelly’. Harry decided that the elves were not referring to Crabbe or Goyle, even if their IQs might be within the average range for a troll.
Harry must send Gagana out with a letter to Snape. Quirrell must die and soon.
Hogwarts
Snape frowned when he recognized the eagle owl waiting for him patiently at the only window in his Potions lab. Reckless boy… If the headmaster saw the animal… He beckoned the bird down into his subterranean classroom. The bird obliged.
He took the letter from the owl. Gagana flew off, up and out through the window. Clearly, he was not expected to reply. The headmaster was researching into soul magic and Horcruxes. Perhaps he needed to find an excuse to visit the Malfoy library. His recent book orders, ostentatiously in preparation for his taking-up the DADA position, were already raising eyebrows. Minnie had even questioned his intentions. And that was only the books he dared to order and have delivered openly to Hogwarts.
He had slipped a Loose-lips Draught into Sprout’s and Minnie’s wine cups when he met them for a nightcap in the staff lounge. It was a pity Flitwick had overindulged in the elf-wine and was carried off snoring from the dinner table. Sprout had fretted about her Devil’s Snare and whether the plants were getting enough fertilizer. Minnie extolled the benefits of playing Wizard’s Chess, before launching into a tirade about how Dumbledore had intended to leave Harry with Lily’s magic-hating sister, before the Dursleys got blown to bits by Death Eaters. Old fool.
Mea culpa. Perhaps if he had kept his mouth shut about the prophecy those years back, Lily might still be alive. Married to the arrogant James Potter, but alive. And her son would not be a budding dark lord. He only hoped that Harry Potter had not inherited the worst aspects of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Otherwise, they would all burn.
Notes:
Cat-and-mouse. Harry Potter knows he is no match for Dumbledore at this point and he is trying to stay under the radar. Dumbledore for his part is trying to provoke a reaction. Harry got some of Tom’s vindictiveness from his soul shard.
The Weasleys’ paternal grandmother was a Black (disowned), she would familiar and insist on the traditional Yule rites. I did a twist on the householder’s superstition of leaving milk out for the fairies in having the Longbottoms give cake and milk to their elves.
Chapter 6: A Study in Crimson
Notes:
Any ideas on how budding Dark Lord Harry should go about eliminating his competition Voldemort and the other Horcruxes without tipping Dumbles off?
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Is it wise, dropping that nugget of information before Miss Granger?” Snape’s hands worked deftly even as he carried on the conversation – slicing, dicing and preparing the raw ingredients.
“Someone has to lead the charge, and between Neville and her, I would place my Galleons on her acting on it,” Harry uncorked a vial of amber liquid he took off the worktable and sniffed at it.
“She has a mortal fear of breaking school rules… and losing points. Oh, put the ambrosia extract back,” Snape admonished.
“Not after that unicorn incident…” Harry grinned as he complied. Snape was too valuable to him both as a mentor and the only adult in his cabal. He could put up with his rough edges for that. No disciplining was required. Tom or Voldemort had lost too many of his followers by not recognizing and valuing their worth.
The magical rush of being so close to a unicorn would have driven away all doubts in Miss Granger’s mind over Dumbledore’s heavy-handed rules. Already she was starting to question the order set by her elders. The nature of magic and spells. She could be Neville’s sword and shield if it came to it. Harry’s part must be played out in the shadows with his wands.
Hermione had already worked out that Stone was on the premises and that Voldemort or one of his supporters was after it. Unfortunately, her suspicions were mistakenly on Snape after his run-in with Fluffy on Halloween.
“Don’t you think it weird that our DADA Professor just faints when there is a troll to be dealt with?” Harry asked Hermione nonchalantly.
“But Snape’s the former Death Eater…” she insisted stubbornly. Who else among the students could he trust his brother’s safety with? Yet he could not expose himself, tip off the old man.
He considered his brother’s two remaining roommates – Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas. Half-blood and Muggleborn. He would need someone he could be for the short time needed to complete the mission.
“Who is the better student?”
“Dean Thomas is Muggle-raised and new to magic. His performance in class is weak overall. Not unusual for first-year Gryffindors, Granger being the exception. Seamus Finnigan’s magic is unpredictable for want of a better word…”
“Let’s go with unpredictable then. I am not Polyjuicing as a girl and getting an older student involved might be tricky.”
A few days later, Theo successfully secured a few of Mister Finnigan’s hair for the Polyjuice. The benefits of having access to a house-elf, often overlooked when it came to matters of security. At some point after the adventure, they would have to arrange for the real Mister Finnigan’s memories to be altered to hide Harry Potter’s participation.
Quirrell would likely leave some Charmed magical instrument to lull the Cerberus to sleep. All they needed to do was to keep the spell going. The next was Devil’s Snare – easily dealt with by Neville if he did not lose his head. Heck, the Devil’s Snare in the Longbottom greenhouse adored his brother when they were growing up. It was only Harry who needed to get rescued by the house-elves trying to save young Neville after Uncle Algie dropped his brother in for a jest. McGonagall’s Wizarding Chess was another obstacle Harry was sure they could deal with, even under the guise of Seamus Finnigan. If Hermione’s smarts failed at chess, Seamus’ accidental magic might force a way through. The troll could be dealt with if needed. Snape had provided Harry and his wands with extra doses of the potion that would help them get past his obstacle. That only left Flitwick’s obstacle - and the final stage set by the headmaster.
Somewhere along the way, the false Seamus must fall by the wayside, then intervene at the final stage where Dumbledore expected his Champion to face Quirrell. Should they bring Hermione onboard as well with that plan? Had she been less vehement in her conviction about Snape’s guilt…
For now, they could only wait for Quirrell and his master to make their move. Patience was not something Tom or Harry had in spades.
“Mother found out what was borrowed by Dumbledore from the Ministry – the Mirror of Erised,” Zabini’s piece of the puzzle flew in with his owl, an offhand comment buried deep in a mother’s letter to her son.
“The headmaster is being called to London today. An emergency meeting in the Wizengamot this evening… Has Madam Longbottom been informed?” Snape’s lips twisted in a sneer. Snape had ordered the cabal to remain behind after his class, on the pretext of coaching them in Potions. It was a chance for them to exchange news. Harry always made sure to Cast Privacy and Notice-not Wards to deter eavesdroppers.
“The headmaster would not return until tomorrow. If there is any theft, it would happen tonight,” Harry concluded. He needed to find his brother and prod him into action. Maybe if Uncle Algie aka Trevor found himself lost on the third floor? Neville did care for his toad after all.
“I have secured Invisibility Cloaks for all of us,” Snape added. “You may fetch them from my office. The password is Asphodel. They are in the bottom drawer of the worktable. Harry, Draco, I will leave Mister Finnigan to you. The rest of us meet at eight-thirty after dinner at the North Stairs, second floor. Do not be seen… Now on to your next class.”
Time for Seamus Finnigan to step out of the world for a bit. Where was he now? They could not detain Finnigan after Potions. Not without alerting the lions or Professor Sprout, who had the lions’ next class. Perhaps they could separate him from the pride during dinner.
Dinner. The food on his plate remained untouched. Harry glared at the headmaster’s empty throne-like chair at the high table. Snape was playing his part, sipping at his glass and moving food round his plate. He turned occasionally to Professor McGonagall to make small talk. Draco tugged at his sleeve.
Under the guise of exchanging notes with Longbottom over their Potions assignment, Draco had slipped a little something extra into Mister Finnigan’s pumpkin juice. Now that little something was taking effect. Seamus was excusing himself from the table and heading for the boys’ bathroom. Five to ten minutes later, the tummy-ache would ease up and a deep sleep would follow. Now they needed to make sure he did not pass out in a corridor.
Neville. Stay safe, brother. Harry’s eyes rested on his oblivious brother for a fraction of a second before he hurried after Draco.
“What an idiot…” Draco sniffed as they stared at Finnigan’s limp body. The Irish boy had managed to hike up his robes and lower his pants but passed out just short of sitting on the porcelain throne. The undignified result was him wedged between the bowl and the side of the stall with his bare bottom exposed. Fortunately, the bathroom was empty apart from them when they unlocked the stall.
“Let’s just get him secured in the broom closet for Snape to reassemble his memories later…” Harry huffed. They were running out of time. A Polyjuiced Harry Potter needed to get to the Gryffindor common room before Granger and Longbottom retired for the night. His brother had obligingly given him the password to the Gryffindor common room – pig’s snout. If, Merlin forbid, they changed the password, he could be stuck outside until someone let him in. He could not afford to be caught out.
They were cutting it fine. Harry would need to keep track of time once the Polyjuice took effect even with the small vial of Polyjuice he carried in his robes, or rather, Finnigan’s robes. To Harry’s chagrin, Mister Finnigan was six inches taller than Harry. It would not do to go about with his shins showing, or rather Seamus Finnigan’s shins. Once Polyjuiced, he had to change into the Irish boy’s clothes, complete with dubious laundry hygiene. The garments had smelled of old cabbages. He had to resist the urge to send them for cleaning.
He ran into his brother at the portrait hole. Poor Neville was staring at an annoyed Fat Lady, having clean forgotten the password yet again. The Lady had her arms folded across her ample bosom and was tapping her foot. Do get it right this time or I am off, the look on her face spoke.
“Pig’s snout!” Harry called out. Thankfully, it was the right one. The Fat Lady curtseyed and moved out of the way so they could enter the common room.
“Thanks heaps, Finnigan.”
“Don’t mention it…” Harry followed Neville into the common room and almost winced at the colour scheme. The Slytherins’ common room was so much more relaxing with its green accents and the light diffusing through the lake. Red and orange? That was an insult to good taste. And those lumpy chairs? Harry forced the disgust from his face, but not before Neville caught it.
“Your stomach still aching?” the plump boy asked. “You were gone for a long while.”
“A little… It’d pass...” Harry looked up at the clock above the fireplace. Ten-twenty. Soon curfew would sound. The common room was starting to empty out. Granger was perched in one of those lumpy chairs with her legs tucked under her like a cat. She was staring intensely into the flames as if considering a complex Arithmancy problem.
Would she act on the suspicions he had stoked about the Philosopher’s Stone?
“Did you hear? The headmaster’s gone to London...” Leaving the Stone free for the taking… Harry hinted in the guise of Finnigan. “The greasy dungeon bat was seen snooping about the third floor…”
“That’s Professor Snape…” Granger admonished half-heartedly.
“If he’s after the Stone… we ought to tell Professor McGonagall,” Neville interjected. Seriously?
“Not sure about you, mate… but I doubt tromping over to the old cat’s place after curfew and feeding her some vague tale would cut it…” Harry feigned a yawn. Neville was hesitant still, but Granger was wavering. She had bounded up from her chair.
Harry stole a glance around the common room. They were the last of the stragglers. The prefects had just left for their rounds and would not be back for the next half-hour at least. The Weasley twins had encountered Fluffy one night in their nocturnal prowling. News about the giant three-headed dog on the third floor had spread like wildfire.
“Even if Snape’s going to use the Stone to bring You-Know-Who back, I am dying to get some shut-eye…” Harry replied.
“No, if he comes back. He’d be coming for my brother!” Neville blurted. Harry felt his heart skip a beat. “We need to stop him…” Neville insisted as he headed resolutely to the portrait hole.
“Neville, wait up!’ Granger followed, but not before grabbing something off her chair – a small music box. Smart girl must have cracked out the Greek myths.
“Feek, I am not going to explain to the old cat why you two got chewed up by some three-headed mutt…” Harry grumbled in what he hoped could pass for an Irish accent before following the duo out of the common room. Mission part one accomplished.
Notes:
It is a different set of kids who are going through the obstacle course now. Harry Potter in this fic is the consummate Slytherin – cunning, manipulative and ruthless.
Chapter Text
The old fool had expected eleven-year-olds to be running his little obstacle course, one of them being his chosen Saviour. What he did not count on the brilliant Miss Granger’s involvement or Harry’s refusal to play along with his plans. Harry glanced at Neville. His brother was pale, nervous but trying to be brave. The headmaster had been forced to let Hagrid go after that debacle with a baby dragon burning down his shack a fortnight back. The half-giant would be lucky to escape Azkaban given the outcry. The ladies of Slytherin had taken the initiative to write home about the fire. Regrettable, but the gentle giant was too much in Dumbledore’s debt. Plus, he was awful at keeping secrets.
However, the groundskeeper’s removal did not result in the removal of the three-headed mutt as Harry had hoped. Tom hated dogs. Came with being chased and tormented by the guard dogs of the orphanage while growing up. Before he learned how to turn his magic against his tormentors. Teeth snapping at his ankles as the older boys dangled him above the dog pen for a lark. They never fed the dogs quite enough. The older lads had the charge of them. Mrs Cole likely supplemented her income from Wool’s by breeding dogs for fighting on the side.
The Cerberus would likely be hungry and angry after being chained for so long. Harry supposed the headmaster had the Hogwarts elves feed him. And maybe an elf or two ended up on the menu. A mistreated dog could be a vicious brute.
The stench hit them the moment Granger unlocked the door with an elementary spell. Faeces and old bones littered the room. The mangey-looking Cerberus was snoozing. A magical harp was playing away.
“Snape beat us to it,” Hermione groaned. She placed the wind-up music box on the floor and let it play while silencing the harp. Strains of Fur Elise filled the air. They did not want the music to run out on them. The dog whuffed in his sleep.
“Guys, we have a problem…” Harry pointed. One of the dog’s large paws was resting on top of the trapdoor.
“Can we m-move it without waking him up?” Neville asked. There was no way they could move it without rousing the beast. Even if Harry were to kill the beast, they would still be left its dead weight to move. A Levitation? Feather-light?
Neville was trying to move the paw. The dog stirred.
“Nev, are you a wizard? Shrink him down…”
“I don’t know the spell…”
“Just follow my lead,” Harry instructed and raised his wand. Hermione looked at him uncertainly but raised her wand as well.
“Reducio!” Harry hoped their still-developing cores were strong enough to power the Charm on such a large beast. The Cerberus shrank until it was the size of a chihuahua. Its eyes popped open for a second. It lifted its heads dozily before slipping back into slumber.
“We better get a move on,” Harry lifted the trapdoor. There was no sign of his wands yet. Were they further on in the gauntlet, waiting his arrival? Or had they fallen to Quirrell or worse?
Devil’s Snare. As Finnigan, Harry feigned panic when the tendrils snared around him. Hermione whimpered and tried to reach for her wand.
“It’s alright. Just think calm thoughts…” Neville urged as the plants wrapped around them. They followed his lead and sank through the carpet of Devil’s Snare into the room below. Well done, brother – if only we can see more of that outside the greenhouse. Harry grinned in the guise of Finnigan.
“W-what now?” Neville gasped as the trio stared at the vaulted ceiling. Overheads, winged keys circled in a languid dance. There was a large wooden door ahead, but it was locked. Not even Granger’s Alohomora could get it to budge. There were three broomsticks leaning against a wall.
“Do you think one of those keys might fit?” Harry groaned. Flying was not his thing.
There was more than one way of getting past a door. Dare he try?
“BOMBARDO!” Harry shouted. He could feel his wand, or rather, Finnigan’s wand singing with glee. So this wand loves a good blast, no wonder Finnigan kept setting his assignments alight. Everyone ducked for cover as the door literally blew apart.
“Finnigan! Warn us first!” Granger admonished as she dusted herself off.
“Hey, it worked!” Harry panted. That spell had taken more out of him than he expected. Not good.
Wizarding Chess. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Did Finnigan or Granger play chess? Granger fumbled as she assessed the situation. Three empty spaces. One for each of them.
“Dibs on the knight!” Harry called out brightly as he climbed onto the horse. “Neville, you’re the bishop, Granger – rook…” Harry pointed out the positions for his friends to stand. Now let the game begin… And he would need ‘Seamus Finnigan’ to leave the board soon…
It was a close match, but Neville managed to checkmate the king, but not before Harry’s knight was taken. It still hurt, even with a Cushioning Charm cast wandless and silent. Harry was sure he would have bruises to show for it, if not a broken foot from his tumble. He had to snap at his companions, both seen and unseen to stop them from rushing over. Midway through the match, he had sensed the entry of his Wands, along with a Disillusioned and unconscious Finnigan.
He urged both Neville and Granger to continue without him, reminding them that time was of the essence. They needed to stop Voldemort’s lackey from reaching the Stone. The pair reluctantly hurried on to the next room, allowing Harry’s Wands to approach. Malfoy and Zabini.
“Your foot will hurt like the blazes once the Polyjuice wears off,” Zabini warned as he lifted his Invisibility Cloak and dug into his bag of medical potions. “Pain-Reliever… Can you stand?”
“I’ll survive…” Harry grunted as he took the vial from Zabini. The match had taken too long and the Polyjuice was wearing off. Draco offered him the spare Invisibility Cloak.
“Remember, the Mirror of Erised shows the viewer’s deepest desire… We don’t know what Dumbledore set for a trap or used it to protect the Stone…”
“Save me the lecture, Malfoy. Just help me up so we can catch up before Quirrell or his boss kills someone…”
The next chamber seemed to have been cleared already – a dead troll lay cooling on the stones. Quirrell’s work? Next was Snape’s logic puzzle. Would Granger be the one to forge ahead? Or Neville? Harry hoped the mild Compulsion he slipped on Neville during the chess match would work, lending him the courage to put himself in danger rather than a girl. Frank Longbottom had taught his sons well, to protect and defend the fairer sex, though Gran might quibble about whether witches are more than capable of defending themselves.
His fears were put to rest when it was Hermione Granger that came running back through the troll chamber a few minutes later, no doubt in search of a responsible adult. Well, good luck with that. Now the clock was ticking. Professor Quirrell and Voldemort would already be in the final chamber, waiting for the Chosen One to appear. What would their reaction be when faced with Longbottom instead of Potter?
Harry winced as the bones in his foot shifted. He had returned to his normal body. Finnigan’s robes now hung loosely on him. He gulped down the Pain-Reliever to dull the pain. Leaning on Draco, he hobbled to the logic puzzle room.
Ah, Snape had extinguished the flames to allow their passage. Well done. Perhaps he could reward the man with a state-of-the-art Potions Research lab once he was Minister. But that would have to wait. Harry felt Draco tense as they stepped over the threshold into the final chamber. Quirrell had already arrived and was holding Neville before the Mirror. Even if both him and Draco were not hidden under their cloaks, they would have not been noticed, so focused were the pair on whatever was in the Mirror.
Oh gross… Quirrell was removing his turban to reveal that face. Draco whimpered and Harry scowled. If only they could ensure that the wraith would not possess Neville after Quirrell was dead… The professor was manhandling Neville now, almost forcing him against the Mirror. Neville was terrified. As loathe as he was to reveal his presence in front of Neville, Harry knew he had to act. He hoped he had enough magic left in him to power the spell, and that Snape and Nott had done their part in preparing the final chamber beforehand. He could not sense any other Wand in the vicinity. It might be his weakened state or intentional shielding by Snape to hide from Voldemort. The spy was known for his caution.
“Hey, Two-Face!” Harry snarled as he threw away his cloak. “How about you stop picking on little boys and deal with someone of your standard?”
He felt a rush of air as Draco fled unseen for the safety of the edge of the room and his planned position.
“You! If it isn’t Harry Potter…” Voldemort hissed as Quirrell shoved Neville aside. The boy flew into the corner of the Mirror, apparently stunning him. Harry growled, green eyes flashing fire. No one hurt his brother. It would have been hilarious watching Quirrell walk backwards towards him, but Harry was busy watching his every step. They had only discussed this in theory, never in practice. Here goes nothing…
“Magiam appello, immundum hunc spiritum liga, vas hoc munda, a malo munda!”
Harry chanted and the incantation was echoed by his Wands, each standing at a point of the pentagram traced onto the floor of the room with sacred salt and grave dirt, cunningly marked onto the stones in the exact shade. It now glowed green, trapping the possessed Quirrell within. Voldemort and his vessel screamed as Quirrell started smoking. The desperate wizard madly clawed at the glowing walls of the pentagram trapping him. His hands blackened and charred to the bone.
“Combustum. Purga. Purga. Purga!”
Quirrell crumpled down, burning to death. A swirling black mass lifted free, wearing Voldemort’s snarling face.
“NOW!” Snape’s voice echoed. There was a flash as Zabini threw the curse-stone he had obtained from his mother into the pentagram. The pentagram was no barrier to it. The wraith screamed as he was sucked into the glowing stone.
They continued chanting until the last swirl of smoke vanished and the stone stopped glowing. It dimmed to a dull brown. Harry stepped forward and lifted a black obsidian dagger Draco had slipped to him earlier. With precise strokes, he traced a pentagram in the air to end the ritual. A weary-looking Snape levitated the curse-stone into a wating lead box before locking it and secreting it in his robes. Spring water from a Druidic well poured over the pentagram ended the ritual and removed traces of the ritual, well, almost.
They still had Quirrell’s charred remains to deal with. Oddly, his robes were untouched. And Longbottom, who was now stirring with a groan. Snape strode over to the lion.
“Obli…” Snape started but Harry was clutching at his hand, staying him. He felt a little woozy from the use of his magic.
“No. Neville will keep quiet, right?” Harry smiled as he helped his brother to his feet. “I felt you were in danger. So we got Professor Snape…”
“But you saved me from him!”
“Yeah, but we had to use a dark ritual… And Professor Snape needs to keep his cover as nasty Death Eater… you can understand that, can’t you? No one can know. Not the Gryffs, not Mom and Dad or Gran… We could be expelled, or even sent to Azkaban,” Harry coaxed. Neville nodded, wide-eyed and between glances at what was left of Quirrell.
“Too risky… Dumbledore…” Snape protested. Of course, no one had tested Longbottom’s Occlumency yet.
Footsteps. They were running out of time. Granger must have found help and the calvary was on its way. They had already redressed Finnigan in his own robes, albeit a set purloined from the laundry. Snape had Cast a Memory Charm on him that would mimic a concussion before having Zabini leave him the Chess chamber for any rescuers to find.
“Nott, Zabini, Malfoy… leave – go back to your dorm. Potter, come with me…” Snape ordered. He bent down. “Potter, your magical core is dangerously low… We don’t want to hurt your magical development, don’t we?”
“Yes, sir…” Harry yawned. He felt exhausted. Did Snape sound concerned? Neville would need to remain to be found. Could he come up with a suitable tale for Dumbledore? Bad luck he woke up before they left…Or would Snape set a Memory Charm on him all the same?
“Wait! What do I do with this?” His brother’s voice sounded so far away. Everything was blurry… then all Harry knew was blackness.
Notes:
I hope this is not too rushed. I used Latin and Google translate (for all its flaws) to come up with the spell Harry used to force Voldemort into the open and trap him. The gist of the spell is as follows: I call upon magic, bind this foul spirit, cleanse this vessel, purge it of evil. Burn, purge, purge, purge.
Chapter Text
Hogwarts Hospital Wing
“Blimey, I can’t remember a feeking thing about last night!” Finnigan moaned as he sat in his bed. “We did something big, and I can’t recall a thing between dinner and waking up here!”
“A concussion would do that to you…” Hermione replied. “I think the professors are still tallying up how many points we lost…”
“I was sure I had the Stone, then I must have dropped it somewhere…” Neville murmured sadly. He had seen the shock and dismay on the headmaster’s face when on recovering his senses in the Hospital Wing, he had dug in his robe for the Stone, only to find it gone from his pocket. Dumbledore had looked so disappointed. He was sure they were all in trouble for breaking the rules.
“Has Harry been to visit yet? Some brother if he has not…”
“I don’t think he knows yet. Besides, Harry told me he and Malfoy have detention with Professor Snape for the rest of the month. Something about sabotaging his ingredients cupboard…” Neville replied.
“On a Saturday? That sucks… Granger did your bag just move?” The bright pink handbag Hermione had brought in was also making muffled yips.
“Oh, I have an appointment to keep with my meditation studies group!” She grabbed the handbag and slipped in a bit of sausage nicked from her breakfast. That seemed to satisfy the pup.
“Seriously, on a weekend?” Finnigan protested.
Headmaster’s Office
“Well, Albus. I do hope you are proud of yourself,” Minerva McGonagall growled. “Two students in the Hospital Wing and I will not be surprised if Granger will need a mind healer after your stunt. And now you’re telling me you lost both the Stone and a Cerberus? That is not to mention a dead DADA professor!”
Any compulsions he cast on the faculty to go along with his plan had shattered when he arrived in the Mirror Room to find a pile of ashes and unburned robes – Quirrell – and an unconscious Longbottom. Minerva did not need to also know that the Mirror of Erised had somehow shattered as well. The Longbottoms would need to be informed of Neville’s injury. He was expecting a Howler from Augusta at the very least. The Ministry would be demanding an explanation about the broken Mirror and he would need to write to the Flamels about losing the Stone, even if the ancient couple had stated that they looking to move on.
What went wrong? Harry Potter was the Chosen One, wasn’t he? Yet he was in the wrong House and did not go after the Stone at all. Could Neville be the real Chosen one instead? But that did not align with the prophecy at all…
“Minerva, I will take care of informing the Flamels and the Aurors. Please inform Masters Longbottoms’ and Finnigans’ parents…”
“You left out the Grangers…” Minerva interrupted.
“Of course, they should be informed too…” And maybe they would see Hermione Granger withdrawn from Hogwarts this time, after all the effort he took to convince them to keep her in school after the troll incident. Muggle parents tend to be more skittish about trolls, moving statues and three-headed dogs. Whatever happened to Fluffy? Surely a giant Cerberus would be noticed in the castle…
Fawkes trilled and bobbed his head.
“You kept the Stone?”
“Yup… Thought it might give the headmaster something to think about besides that broken mirror,” Draco grinned. “With Longbottom’s luck, he might just drop it returning it to the headmaster.” He tossed the red stone into the air and caught it.
“And you went against my wishes to alter my brother’s memory!” At least Snape had the decency to inform him after the fact.
“It was necessary. Longbottom will not stand up under Legilimency,” Snape explained patiently. Harry fumed. Perhaps a few Crucios were needed to remind his Wands of their place, wipe that smug grin off Draco’s face. He groaned with the effort of trying to pull up enough power.
“Easy there, Harry… you expended too much magic. Your core is all but exhausted. You do not want to end up a squib,” Snape warned as he helped Harry sit up.
“Merlin forbid. How’s Neville?”
“Recovering in the Hospital Wing. I will advise you not to leave this room until you can walk without falling over,” Snape replied. “You have been out for a full day.”
Instead of bringing him to the Hospital Wing, Snape had brought Harry back to his quarters to recover from magical exhaustion. Harry scowled. At least it was over the weekend. He could not afford to appear weak before his foes.
“What was that about a broken mirror? And whose idea was that?” Harry scowled at the three-headed chihuahua-sized Fluffy, who was gnawing on a bone at the foot of Snape’s bed.
“Magical rebound from the ritual. It did not agree with the Mirror of Erised. I did warn that the ritual is a bit chancy…” Snape patted the lead box on the table beside him.
“Miss Granger sent it over with compliments. I think the Spell’s permanent,” Draco explained. He and his godfather had tried undoing it in the Room of Requirement, but it would not take.
“You let a lioness into the snakes’ den?” Harry protested.
“She handed it to Parkinson in the girls’ bathroom. In a pink handbag and asked her to pass it on,” Theo explained.
“We broke a mirror during the ritual. Will that be like seven years of bad luck?” Blaise piped up where he was playing Egyptian Rat Slap with Theo.
“I think being stuck with our great headmaster for the rest of our school years already covers that bit,” Harry grunted. The chihuahua-sized Cerberus yipped and bounded up into his lap. Hermione Granger… How did the witch figure out he was involved? None of his Wands would dare betray him to a lion.
The brightest witch of her generation… A family friend had once said of his mother, Lily Potter. Harry considered Miss Granger. His birth and foster parents had not tied him to any witch yet. But perhaps it is not too early to consider his options. As the last surviving British Potter, he would be expected to marry and produce heirs to carry on the family name. For now, she was still a schoolgirl with messy curls and buck teeth. Still, it was worth keeping her in mind, considering her continued education by Greengrass and Parkinson in pureblood customs and etiquette.
“Gentlemen, would you have any objections were I to open our membership to a certain witch, or rather a lioness?”
“The mudblood?” Draco bleated.
“Crucio,” Harry tutted as the blond writhed in agony on the floor. “Don’t let me or anyone else hear that word coming from your mouth, Malfoy. I do hope I would not have to repeat this.”
They had Snape bring Granger to an empty classroom under the guise of detention. Poor girl looked close to tears at being assigned a detention so soon after her adventure with the Stone. Surely she must know that Dumbledore would let his precious Gryffs escape scot-free? Or was it her mistrust of Snape?
The dour Potions Master kept his features inscrutable as he led Granger in. Harry and the rest of his Wands were already waiting. Snape Cast the Locking Charm and Muffling wards once he shut the door behind them. She blinked once before speaking.
“I do hope you have figured out what to do with Fluffy.”
“F-fluffy? You mean the dog?”
“Yes, Hagrid mentioned his name was Fluffy…”
“Fluffy,” Draco snickered. “That figures…”
“Will Hagrid be returning to Hogwarts?”
“That would depend on the Board of Governors, Granger, and whether he will be charged over that dragon… Now I suppose you have worked out a few things. Do enlighten us how you worked out I was there with you?”
“Socks,” Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. A bold one, even when surrounded by possible foes. Harry felt the part of him that was Tom nod in approval.
“Please do elaborate.”
“Your socks. I saw them when you were climbing the horse as Finnigan. They were white. However, the socks on Finnigan when I came back the same way were grey. Then I worked out that Finnigan didn’t know the words for Shrinking Spell. So he was not the one with us that night.”
“Out of all the wizards, why me?” Harry crossed an ankle across his knee and rested his chin on his hand like a medieval monarch on a throne. Seriously, Finnigan’s folks never taught him or used such a basic spell in front of him? How disappointing.
“Neville Longbottom. Whoever that was trusted Longbottom more than the real Finnigan would. He knew Neville has a gift with plants, including possibly deadly ones like the Devil’s Snare. You are raised as his brother and would know him best…” Hermione replied. “Your initial panic, it was all an act…”
“Well done,” Harry clapped his hands. “The brightest witch of our year indeed.”
“I suppose there is some reason you had Professor Snape bring me here?”
“Yes. Gentlemen, shall we vote for whether Miss Hermione Granger is to join our elite club?” Harry asked and raised his wand. One by one, wands were raised by the other boys, Snape’s wand was the last to be raised.
“We extend our invitation to you to be part of our circle. Part of a bigger whole – one that will change the world for the better. Do you accept this offer made to you, on your magic, Hermione Granger?”
“I accept…” Hermione breathed in awe. She could sense the magic pulsing through the dingy classroom with each word uttered.
“Potter, you realize that Miss Granger might not be able to accept your Mark, even with a Glamour,” Snape sniffed.
“Of course. Too Slytherin. Would not want her to attract unnecessary trouble,” Harry patted her on the shoulder.
“Does joining this club require a tattoo or something? I-I doubt my parents will approve…” Hermione hesitated. Her shoulder itched.
“Too late… princess,” Harry grinned impishly.
“A Glamour might help,” Draco rolled his sleeve up to expose his Mark.
“What?” a flustered Hermione undid the front of her robes and the first few buttons of her blouse so she could expose her shoulder. On her left shoulder was the same Mark as that on Draco’s arm, but smaller.
“Potter, you could have warned me first.” She regarded her new tattoo with a critical eye. It was a monochromic black and depicted a serpent coiled around a wand or staff. It was not as bad as she expected.
“Cara, teenage rebellion starts young, no?” Blaise Zabini teased. “Now button up before you wreck your reputation.”
Blushing furiously, Granger nimbly did up her buttons and robe.
“I will be holding private lessons in mind magic and would strongly advise you to join us for them, Miss Granger,” Snape added. “Lessons will start at eight on Friday in Classroom 17. A new venue and time will be announced each lesson.”
Granger would be there with her thirst for knowledge, another Wand in his pocket to be used in the future, or as an amusing distraction at the very least. Just as Tom had started his proto–Death Eaters under the banner of Lord Abraxas Malfoy’s Knights of Walpurgis. Hermione Granger joining their cabal would keep her from running off to tell on them to Dumbledore. Not that she has any respect left for him after the unicorn incident.
Notes:
The Wands are no longer a Slytherin boys only club now with their latest addition.
Chapter 9: The Diary
Notes:
There is a little voice urging me to let Harry go all Dark Lord-ish and take over Hogwarts, but he is still a twelve-year-old.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
He would kill Lucius Malfoy – slowly and painfully. Harry growled as he considered the object he was holding. Their day had started off so well with school-shopping in Diagon Alley. The Longbottoms and Weasleys had grown close with the prospect of a possible union between their children. Harry was not surprised that Mom and Dad arranged to meet up with the Weasleys in Diagon Alley for shopping and a meal afterwards.
There were some new laws passed over Dark Artefacts finding their way to Muggles, including family heirlooms. Some surrendered them at the Ministry. However, more decided to hide them away or dispose of them on the black market. Harry could not blame them. Dad was often away on raids. Frank Longbottom and Arthur Weasley were two of the most vocal proponents for the new Bill. Harry personally thought it was a fuss over nothing. Still, he had to feign agreement in front of Dad.
They did not expect to run into the Malfoys at the bookstore. Or for Malfoy senior and Arthur Weasley to come to blows. Harry had been busy Hexing the pompous Gilderoy Lockhart’s book-signing session so that whatever came from his quill was either downright rude or highly inappropriate. No one was dragging him or his brother into an unwanted photoshoot. Mom had to intervene and set the man straight on that count.
It made his day watching Lockhart getting Hexed with boils by an ex-fan after she read what he wrote on her little girl’s textbook. Seriously, they had to buy his entire book series for a year of DADA? Maybe he ought to drop an Arson Hex on the publisher’s as well. It was too late to Stun both wizards when he was made aware of the ruckus thanks to Mrs Weasley screeching like a banshee. Dad managed to separate the pair, allowing the Malfoys to sweep out of the store. Draco should really learn how to manage his parents…
They next went on to Fortescue’s as planned. That was when Harry felt it – a quiet tugging – coming from little Ginny’s cauldron. The Weasley got their books second-hand. Dad offered to help them with the school supplies, but the Weasleys would not hear of it. Atop of the dogeared textbooks was an old journal that felt oddly familiar to Harry.
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Harry quickly swapped the journal into his cauldron. There was no way he was allowing Ginny or Neville by extension to be exposed to that book. He must keep it safe and bring it to Snape at Hogwarts to deal with. He squashed down the urge to open and write in it at the table while Neville and Ginny were arguing light-heartedly on the merits of Bubblegum and Raspberry Swirl flavours.
A Horcrux. Harry knew that was what he was carrying in his cauldron as they Floo-ed home.
Burning it in the grate would be no use. Tom made sure of that. He needed Fiendfyre or… A giant serpent slumbers under Hogwarts in the Chamber or Secrets Tom had discovered. The memories were coming back now. The Ravenclaw Myrtle was darned unlucky to chance upon them just then and look the Basilisk in the eye.
Would the Basilisk obey him, who is not strictly of Slytherin’s line? Could he command it as the schoolboy Tom did?
He could arrange for the headmaster to meet with an accident. Dumbledore had called on Gran presumably to check on Neville’s well-being. Harry could not stop him from entering the manor with his twinkling eyes and grandfatherly smiles. He could only scowl as his brother blushed under all that praise. Dad was not exactly thrilled how much danger his son got into with his classmates. Neither was Mom. Poor Nev got grounded for two weeks, not allowed out of the house even to tend to his plants. Harry heard that Finnigan was grounded by his mam for the entire summer. Poor bloke. Granger was lucky that thanks to the Statutes of Secrecy, her parents never found out what their little girl got up to. The Grangers were off to France for the summer.
There were other loose ends from the Stone debacle they had to tidy up. The Stone Harry kept and hid in a Charmed compartment he added to his trunk. It might come in useful someday. Fluffy went home with Blaise Zabini, who promised his Mama would love the pup, even if he were to return to his full size. Villa Zabini in Tuscany could always use a monster guard dog with three heads. Granger had to keep up her façade of a lioness, sitting apart from the cabal while still interacting with the Slytherin girls. She endured a boring train ride back to London with Lavendar Brown and the Patil twins, just to keep up appearances that she was not that close to her friends in Slytherin. They sealed the lead box the wraith was locked up in into one of the walls of Snape’s office. They would have to trust that between the Curse-stone, Warded lead and ambient magic of the castle, the wraith would be contained until they could deal with all the Horcruxes. Harry refused to think of that part of him that was once Tom.
There was something about Hogwarts Harry felt he had to recall. A hidden something in the walls from long ago. If only he could remember what…
“Are you alright, Harry? You aren’t touching your cutlet…” Neville asked at dinner. Harry had been pushing his food around his plate.
“I’m tired. That’s all,” Harry replied distractedly. His mind was churning with various stratagems on how to deal with the diary. Should he give in to the compulsion to write to sixteen-year-old Tom? That would open him to possible possession. Should he pass it onto some unwitting stooge? Allow them to take the fall? One of Dumbledore’s precious lions perhaps? That would mean allowing the memory of Tom to run loose. The Basilisk.
“No fever… Maybe you should have an early night, Harry…” Mom felt his brow. Harry nodded wanly. He could play the invalid for a bit and then avail himself of the Longbottom library for books on Basilisks and how they might be controlled or killed if necessary.
A girls’ bathroom. A predecessor had hidden the entrance there. Behind the sink a tunnel leading down to the Chamber. She waited there for nigh a millennium for the return of a Master. Harry dreamed. A dead girl. A mistake. One that Tom quickly seized upon to create his first Horcrux. Hurt. Hurt so bad…
“Master Harry!” Someone was shaking him awake. Harry groaned and opened his eyes groggily. It was Mikos. The elf looked worried.
“What happened, Mikos?” Harry feigned a yawn as he tried to steady his wildly pounding heart.
“Master be having nightmare. Hissing and thrashing about…”
Harry looked around his room. Oh bother. Accidental magic. It looked like a tornado had ripped through the room. His bookcase was in splinters, the contents strewn over the carpet in pieces. His bed curtains were ripped to ribbons.
“Mikos… fix this up, please…” Harry grumbled and crawled back under his coverlet. He could vaguely sense the Horcrux pulsing under his bed where he had hidden it under a Disillusionment.
“M-master Harry,” the elf asked as he started salvaging the books.
“What’s it, Mikos?”
“You might want to know Gran invited Old Nosey for tea next week. Would Master Harry be wanting a warm drink?” Harry watched the elf struggle with the splintered bookcase before giving up. He would likely Vanish the mess and replace it with one from the attic.
“Thank you, Mikos. I would like a glass of water.”
Her name was Scheherazade. She would only answer to that name uttered in Parseltongue – if she were sane enough. Tom had taken a foolhardy risk as a schoolboy, waking the beast. After fifty years, could she retain enough sanity to know her name? Salazar had made her close to immortal but failed to account for the degenerative effects of age and isolation. How had he known that? Or was it later that he stumbled across the founder’s writings in the Chamber? Surely not from the Gaunts.
His mind still whirling, Harry gave up trying to fall back to sleep. Instead, he sat down in a chair by the window and watched the sun slowly rise. Snape had taught him the mind arts of legilimency and occlumency. They had helped him in sorting and compartmentalizing his and Tom’s shared memories. Now he pried out Tom’s memories about the Basilisk to try and make sense of them.
Lord Malfoy - not the current lord who had tussled with Mister Weasley. His father perhaps? How tiresome. Sometimes the memories took a detour. A too familiar hand on his shoulder, no, Tom’s. A grimoire offered. Knights of Walpurgis. A private audience with the Grandmaster himself. An honour for a half-blood with barely a sickle to his name.
Harry suddenly felt his stomach twist. He spewed over the rug. Mikos or some other elf hurriedly Apparated into his room. Maybe he was coming down with some stomach bug after all.
He had given in in the end.
Hi. My name is Harry Potter. He watched the ink sink into the page.
Hello. My name is Tom. Harry grinned. He must be careful not to pour too much of himself into the journal.
What if Dad and Mom found out? Or Gran? Would Lord Lucius Malfoy be tossed into Azkaban, the Malfoy name disgraced? Planting a dark artefact in the hands of an innocent child indeed. Could young Draco step into his father’s shoes and the title? Or would his mother act as regent until he was of age? Lady Malfoy was an unknown. Harry had no clear memories from Tom he could use. Perhaps Tom considered her beneath his notice. Was she the obedient pureblood wife and indulgent mother? Or would she rise to the challenge of acting for her husband and son? She’s a Black after all.
Maybe it be prudent to keep Lucius on the board for now.
Harry knew he looked awful. Mom had called in the healer. The journal was extending its hold on him. Harry could feel it trying to take over, inviting him to cede control. He had been honest about being a Slytherin, and his interest in that old legend of their founder’s Chamber of Secrets. He had declined when journal-Tom offered to show him the chamber. Where was the fun in that?
He had been careful in his interactions not to reveal too much, but Harry found he was staying up late at night to write to Tom. He had mentioned nothing about Lord Voldemort and Wizarding War, guessing correctly that journal-Tom’s awareness stopped in 1945 when the Horcrux was created. He painted a picture of himself as a poor orphan tossed on the mercy of his distant relations after a tragic Potions accident. The Potters were known for being Potioneers back in his grandfather’s day.
Harry staggered into the parlour where Dumbledore and his Gran were having tea, startling the old folks. It had been a struggle taking the book from where he had stashed it. He could sense the Horcrux protesting at being exposed to a grown-up, especially one like the headmaster. He had been feigning illness the entire week, starving himself and staying up late. The Nutrition Potions he discreetly Vanished once Mikos’ back was turned. Dad and Mom had even talked about taking him to St Mungo’s if he did not recover.
“G-Gran… I found something in my cauldron after Diagon Alley. I-I think it is what’s been making me sick… after writing in it… There’s someone called Tom in there and he writes back… He says he’s a Hogwarts student and the year’s 1943… He’s not an owl-pal or ghost, is he?” Harry blubbered.
To his satisfaction, both Dumbledore and Gran blanched. He shakily held out the journal, fighting against the instinct snatch it back and run away with it.
“Foolish boy, never trust an artefact you cannot see where it keeps its brain!” Gran admonished. Dumbledore took the journal from Harry with a frown.
“When did you first see this?” the headmaster asked as his blue eyes looked deep into Harry’s.
“In my cauldron after Mister Malfoy and Mister Weasley started fighting at the bookstore…”
“Not to worry, we will deal with it,” Dumbledore kept the journal in the folds of his voluminous robes, a shade of plum. Well, you better, old man.
“What if it comes back, Gran? For Nev?” Harry whimpered as false panic. “I want to know that it is gone for good…”
“Shall we burn it now, Albus?”
“No, Augusta. A simple fire would not suffice for such an evil thing. We need Basilisk venom or Fiendfyre…” Dumbledore stroked his beard. Ah, so he did recognize it as a Horcrux.
The rest of the holidays was almost anticlimactic. Two days before term started, Gran brought Harry to Gringotts where they and Dumbledore watched the goblins drop the diary Horcrux into a vat of pure Basilisk venom. As it dissolved with a scream and a puff of foul smoke, Harry felt a sharp momentary pain as if something was torn from him. Tom had been so easy to flatter into revealing more than he should. An amusing conversationalist with abashed leanings towards the darker aspects of magic. Ah well, Harry had other mentors and sources to fall back on.
Second year – and an old acquaintance – awaited at Hogwarts.
Notes:
Harry is a little snake. He has outwitted sixteen-year-old Tom aka Diary Horcrux. Things might turn darker in future chapters.
Chapter 10: Pest Trouble
Chapter Text
Getting stuck on the wrong side of the barrier at King’s Cross with the grownups on Platform 9 ¾ at 10.58 a.m. was something Harry Potter could do without. Harry could hear the whistle blowing for the stragglers to hurry up and board the Hogwarts Express. Neville was with him, squeezing poor Trevor. Ginny was close to tears. Harry grabbed his wand, Cast a Notice-me-not Charm and blasted the wall a few times with nothing to show but some scorch marks on the wall. He could hear the grownups, Molly Weasley screeching. There was a thud as if someone had driven a trolley into it from the other side. Blame Trevor. The fool toad had gotten away from Nev and Ginny had to help him catch him. Harry was just there to make sure they did get on the train.
“Harry?”
“Mom? The barrier’s not working. Nev and Ginny are with me. We’ll miss the train, Mom!”
“Just stay put alright. Someone has placed an Anti-Apparition Hex… Bloody silly buggers…” Dad’s voice.
“Frank!”
“Sorry, Alice…”
“Dad, Mom. Can Mikos help?” Neville ventured.
“Of course! Nev, call Mikos. Maybe he can find out who’s behind this,” Harry growled. He clenched his fists. The Hogwarts Express must have left by now. Harry hoped the remaining Weasley brothers had embarked on their journey. He was not ready to deal with them.
“Mikos!” Neville called his elf, who appeared with a pop hidden between a bin and a vending machine. Harry briefly explained the situation as he led Mikos over to the column under a Disillusionment. The house-elf sniffed the air with his oversized nose. His ears flapped. With a snarl, he Disapparated and returned with another elf.
“Bad elf! Same elf been bothering manor elves. Asking them not to let young masters go to Hogwarts!” The Manor wards did not allow any elves not linked to the Longbottom family into the grounds except for the mailroom so the Longbottom elves could inspect any gifts sent. The Longbottom elves took care of any minor nuisances, so they did not disrupt the family’s lives.
“Harry Potter and Nervy Longbotter must not go to Hogwarts… Great danger waiting… Dobby must stop…”
“What might this danger be?”
“Dobby cannot say…” the poor elf banged his head against the wall. Wait, Dobby? He had heard of this unusual elf from Draco. A Malfoy elf. Draco swore the creature was touched in the head.
“Mikos, I was almost possessed by a Cursed journal we accidentally picked up in Diagon Alley over the summer. We just had it melted in a vat of poison. Now this miserable creature is trying to stop us from getting an education. Not to mention forcibly separating us from our parents. What would you suggest?” Harry asked.
“Master Frank to send letter of complaint about interfering elf to his master,” Mikos grinned wickedly. “Maybe master will get fined for not controlling elf.”
“Can you lift the Anti-Apparating Hex or whatever that is blocking the barrier as well? I think Mrs Weasley will like her daughter back…” Harry pinched the skin between his eyes. Mikos nodded and snapped his fingers. Molly was the first through and swept up her daughter in a hug. Next came Frank and Alice. The Weasley boys had gotten on the train before anyone realized three of the children failed to make it through the barrier. The train had already departed.
“This Dobby is a lunatic. Maybe he is ill… He’s been bothering the Longbottom elves all summer,” Harry whispered into Dad’s ear.
“Really. Who is his master?”
“The Malfoys. My good friend Draco told me about how he has all sorts of funny ideas… Is there something we could do for him?” Harry watched with satisfaction as Dobby blanched at least five shades of grey at the mention of the Malfoys.
“I see. The Creature Office will likely send Lord Malfoy a warning to keep his elf under control. I will need to interview our elves first…” Frank considered his options. Lord Malfoy was known for his pride and ill-temper. If he knew one of his elves had disgraced his family, Dobby could be killed out of hand.
“Dearest, do you think we need to consider more pressing issues, like getting three children to school on time?’ Alice reminded. Molly and Arthur were arguing about whether they should use the Weasley family car. A normal Ford Agalia would never be able to catch up to the Express on the motorways.
They had to let Dobby go with only a warning. Harry fumed. It sucked not getting his way with Dad. Still, Harry knew that the elf would be reluctant to cause further trouble now that he was aware of his friendship with Draco. A pity, Dad should have called in both the Aurors and Lord Malfoy. Then maybe they could confirm rumours that Lucius Malfoy carried a sword-cane inherited from Lord Abraxas.
After careful discussion, the parents made an emergency Floo-call to the headmaster from Frank’s office to inform him what happened. They temporarily linked the Floos to allow the three students to Floo into Hogwarts well ahead of their fellows.
Incendio… Harry hissed and watched in satisfaction as Colin Creevey’s camera burst into flames. The little pest was starting to get annoying. If they had been in the same House, he would have sent the fool tumbling down the tower within the first month. Granger informed him that the pest had found a room in the castle with old cameras that could be used in Hogwarts.
A secret room… Something was nudging at Harry’s mind. Colin had a knack for candid shots. Harry did not mind photos of Lockhart being set upon by Cornish pixies or tumbling down the stairs, ass over teakettle with his pants on fire after he tried to get Harry and Neville to act out some dumb scene from his books. Whep, accidental magic, you know. It was a bit weird seeing his Head of House grin over the photos he confiscated from the lions.
What Harry was not so happy about was the photo of Draco getting kissed by Pansy under the mistletoe. It was entirely coincidental that Pansy’s lips swelled up like bangers. An allergy to her lip gloss. Or that of his brother tripping and landing face-first in the lemon meringue pie.
He did not need Creevey getting curious about his visits to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Granger said the boy reminded her of a puppy, albeit a very exasperating one. Moaning Myrtle was a bit of a bore. One always had to use a Silencing Charm on her or stick her in the bathroom mirror for a bit. Exorcising her would be a mercy, but one did not need Peeves to raise a stink about a missing ghost. Besides, one might need to use a ghost later.
The new DADA instructor was an amusing target for the Slytherin pranks. Granger quickly got over the hero-worship bit once she did her research and comparisons across his books. One could not be in two places at once. The dates simply did not add up. Once she found out she had been tricked – hell hath no fury. Granger was brilliant in coming up with schemes to ensure maximum humiliation for the stuffed popinjay. The pixies were her idea. As were the doxies in his office. Perhaps it was time to share the fruits of his exploration with his closest Wands…
The budding Dark Lord would be the death of him. Snape thought grimly as he took in the scene before him. The girls’ bathroom was flooded. Moaning Mrytle floated in the air stiff as a board and slightly charred. There was a gaping hole where one of the sinks had been. Draco and Granger were peering into the darkness beyond. A giant snake curled up docilely with her eyes closed as Harry scratched her chin. A Basilisk.
“It’s alright, Professor. Scher would not turn her eyes on a friend. We’re just having a nice little chat…” Harry greeted him a bit too brightly.
“P-Potter… That’s a Basilisk.”
“Of course, Slytherin’s monster from the Chamber of Secrets. There’s probably more cool stuff in Salazar’s potions lab below. His journals perhaps… but we need a responsible adult…”
“Yes… I can see that…” Snape grunted as he cautiously approached the not-so-responsible and now very much dead Lockhart.
“I do not suppose you had anything to do with Mrs Norris or Creevey…”
“Who, me?” Harry gave his most guileless smile. Mrs Norris was an accident. Silly kitty had to walk in just as he was letting Scher out. He had given the snake the option of consuming the cat, but Salazar had bred her to live solely on the latent magic of Hogwarts. It sucked learning from Salazar’s journals that it was impossible for Scher to leave the castle wards without turning into a pile of sludge. They left the cat’s carcass outside Filch’s office with an anonymous note of apology. Filch’s wails could be heard all the way from the Gryffindor Tower.
Colin Creevey was an experiment. The Muggleborn pest was driving poor Nev spare with his camera. Granger had insisted that they refrained from deadly force. They used a mirror to reflect the beast’s deadly gaze, just to see the results of an indirect gaze. She gave it a 50-50 chance of an indirect gaze being deadly. All in the name of magical experimentation. Harry suspected it might have something to Colin catching a snap of Granger’s Charm-practice going awry with her landing in the Hospital Wing with her front teeth looking like a walrus in front of Pansy and the others.
They snuck Creevey into the Ravenclaw common room after curfew, just to mix things up a bit. The entire Ravenclaw House was in a flap at breakfast. Professor Flitwick and McGonagall were still trying to work out how a first-year Gryff ended up petrified in the Ravenclaw Tower. Sprout had a crop of Mandrakes waiting and Snape volunteered to prepare the Mandrake Restorative Draught once they are ready.
Granger had suggested using special lenses to protect one from the Basilisk’s deadly gaze. There were some notes in Salazar’s journals and a rudimentary pair of tinted eyeglasses in his office which gave credence to Hermione’s theory. Harry had visited the Chamber several times since he opened it. This was the first time he was bringing anyone else down with him. He could really use some help researching Salazar’s notes given the archaic script used. He could start with Malfoy and Granger to see how well Scher took to them. Theo and Blaise were too curse-happy to be safe around a Basilisk who had not been exposed to another human for a long time.
No one had expected Lockhart to come snooping about. Just when he called Scher up and oopsy – dead popinjay. Then poor Myrtle had to stick her nose out of her sink at the crash. An accident you know.
“I was summoned to take care of this sorry chunk of meat, right?” Snape grumbled. He had been grading term papers when he received the Summons from Harry. It would not be the first time he needed to dispose of a corpse.
“I was thinking of turning him into an inferius and sticking him in some cave,” Harry remarked mildly. “You can come with us into the Chamber, I'll give you a tour… Be careful with what you touch. I have disarmed a few Curses, but one might never know...”
“I think I might have some Dissolving Fluid in my stores…” Snape levitated the corpse into a toilet stall and spelled the door shut. He next Cast a Ventus to waft Myrtle into the adjoining stall. A chance to view the lab journals of one of the greatest potioneers in history. There were Potion Masters out there who would gladly give up their right hands for this.
Notes:
Hermione in his fic is a lot darker than in canon, being influenced by the cabal. She is cool with endangering others so long as there is a disclaimer on magical experimentation or studies on it.
Chapter 11: Mad Dogs and Rat Catching
Notes:
I feel I might have glossed over Harry’s second year a bit too quickly.
Some warning for hints of sexual activity and sexual abuse of minors.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Lockhart’s disappearance was the talk of the Great Hall for a while before it was shelved under yet another ill-fated DADA instructor in Hogwarts’ collective memory. As for the ghost who haunted the girls’ bathroom, Harry had a little chat with her once she was well enough. As in life, Moaning Myrtle had been ignored, overlooked and mocked by the other ghostly inhabitants. The Ravenclaw was more than happy to throw her lot in with the cabal and act as their sentinel to the Chamber. No one asked any awkward questions about the too-fresh human bits in Snape’s personal potion ingredients cupboard or the vials of Basilisk skin and venom that were suddenly appearing on the local black market for potions ingredients. Harry had little need for Scher. Leaving a trail of Petrified or dead bodies in her wake will draw unwanted attention to them. He would let her roam the plumbing of the castle in exchange for her providing shed skin and venom to his future enterprise. He would need a war chest if he were to run for Minister. Granger could do her little experiments with tinted glass on hamsters and chickens in the Chamber to work out how best to protect against a Basilisk’s direct gaze.
The headmaster looked almost disappointed at how quietly the year ended. Poor Filch’s cat and Creevey aside. They managed to get the Creevey boy unpetrified in time for the exams. All was well as summer approached and the cabal parted ways for the next two months, Draco managed to convince his father to gift him Dobby as his personal elf with his good grades. Draco was already on the Slytherin team as Seeker and Harry had to admit he looked good on a broomstick. Alas, given the situation between the Longbottoms and Malfoys, Harry would be unlikely to meet anyone from the cabal before term started anew. Well, except maybe Hermione. If Gran approves of course. Gran had always been a little suspicious of the modern Muggleborns. So different from the clueless peasants Harry supposed Gran had been taught to expect.
Gran clearly approved of Ginny and her brothers. The siblings visited Longbottom Manor often that summer. Enough for Harry to wonder if he had erred in suggesting Percy be hired as Nev’s tutor or if Ginny be considered a possible future bride for his brother. More than once, he was tempted to shove the silly girl down the well. He supposed like all good things, the Weasleys needed to be enjoyed in moderation. Something Tom had been incapable of. That sweltering summer, Harry spent much of his time meditating and sorting out his memories and Tom’s. The scrolls in Slytherin’s hidden liar were too fragile to remove from the Chamber, so all he had were notes.
Puberty the first round was a mess. If he could, Harry would love to skip those awkward years, but it would invite to many questions. There was nothing but for him to endure it – confusing urges, hormones and emotions. At least he would be free of those filthy creatures – the drunks and older boys from the street who had not yet learned to fear him… The Grandmaster’s hand on his knee… If Tom had survived those years, Harry would as well. And he would be the one in charge this round.
He liked to watch. Harry laughed. That was how they caught the filthy little voyeur. Maybe the rat was spying for the Order or maybe he was out on his own initiative. Whatever it was, the Lestranges caught him in their bedroom at one of their lesser properties, which was not that well-Warded. Tom had long known the Lestranges had a triad going on. The lovely Bella was insatiable and prone to excesses. Harry was not sure if Tom had any real feelings for Bella. Still, it was funny to think of the rat literally falling off the rafters onto the trio while they were in the throes of passion. Somehow, they had recognized it as an animagus. Rather than blasting the pervert out of existence, they had dragged him before their master. Tom had then Oblivated that knowledge from the Lestranges once Pettigrew was his.
Everyone thought Sirius Black was the Potters’ Secret-Keeper. Cunning Peter had persuaded his friends to swop. There had been no news of Peter after that night. Harry had long wondered if Black was indeed guilty of murder. Percy had mentioned his brother Ron’s rat in passing at tea. The rat had gone missing after Ron’s accident. Ginny claimed that she had seen a similar-looking rat at times in the Gryffindor common room, right down to the missing toe. There had been attempt to trap him by the fumbling lions including the twins, which came to nought. The Weasleys wondered aloud if Scabbers had gone feral. That was a bother. The cabal could not afford to have the rat stumble on their dealings and go wailing to the headmaster or another Death Eater. Harry was not exactly keen on having a godfather running his life, especially if said godfather has his mind scrambled by Dementor exposure. Should he let sleeping dogs be? He was surprised to learn that both Black cousins were still clinging on in Azkaban. The Black family had no direct-line male heirs left. If Sirius should pass, it would be Draco who would inherit the title of Lord Black from his cousin as well as Lord Malfoy from his father.
He was starting to get a headache. Harry decided he had enough. He better make an appearance downstairs for dinner lest his family got worried. It would only be a matter of time before Dad gave his boys that talk. It might even happen this summer with how Neville was shooting up like a weed. How tiresome.
“I understand from Dad my biological father had three close friends in Hogwarts… regular troublemakers. One’s a traitor, one’s a werewolf and the last is of no consequence,” Harry declared to the cabal members gathered in his dorm.
“Oh, the werewolf still visits, right?” Draco looked up from his homework.
“Unlike Greyback, Uncle Remus bathes regularly and uses cutlery…” Harry replied. His Dad and a team of crack Aurors had succeeded in catching the rogue werewolf and sending him to Azkaban several years back. With support from the Longbottoms, Remus Lupin had been campaigning for creature rights, including subsidized Wolfsbane and safe zones for werewolves on full moon nights. Uncle Remus had even gone to America and Continental Europe to study their werewolf management protocol.
Harry had been wary of Lupin when he first saw the werewolf after that Halloween. The soul-shard Tom still recalled what a brute Greyback had been. How the werewolf had enjoyed torturing and maiming his victims. How he had chafed at Voldemort’s commands and needed to be Crucio-ed to be reminded on his place. In his smaller body, Harry Potter had not felt safe. He had screeched bloody murder when Alice gave him to Remus to carry. His accidental magic had thrown the wolf into a wall. His foster parents put it down to his recent trauma, but the damage had been done. Uncle Remus would always remain on the sidelines for Harry – a family friend one saw at Yule or Beltane. Still, there was enough of Tom remaining to recognize the werewolf as a predator.
“The traitor would be your cousin, right?” Theo looked at Draco, who scowled.
“Actually, I know for sure Black was not the Secret-keeper…” Harry lazily Cast a Privacy Charm with a wave of his hand. “Because the true Secret-keeper is very much alive and scampering about the hallowed halls of Hogwarts as a rat.”
“How did you come to that conclusion?” Blaise blurted.
“You mean there’re no Anti-Animagi Wards on this place?” Theo frowned.
“I can’t tell you everything. Except to be on the lookout for a rat with a missing toe.” It sucked that his birth parents did not state who the Secret-keeper was in their wills. Or maybe they did leave a letter behind, but it was destroyed or lost. He might have been granted access to the Black vault by his godfather, or maybe not. Whether Black dies in Azkaban or not was of no consequence. The main issue was collaring a rat.
The rat kept to the Gryffindor common room and dorms. Familiar ground, Harry supposed. And well out of their reach. They could not hope that the rat would remain only in Gryffindor Tower and not venture into the dungeons. Better to take hold of that by the horns. Perhaps their lioness might prove her worth. But first he needed to refine that Tracking Spell and find something of Pettigrew’s.
“Look at my Potions essay! They’ve ruined it!” Hermione shrieked as she waved her parchment. There were bits chewed out of it. Peter sleepily opened his eye a crack and peered out from his cosy nook behind the fireplace. That was not his doing. He knew better than to chew on homework.
“They got to my homework too…” Parvati added.
“They destroyed my ribbons…” Lavendar moaned.
“They bit through my quills…” One by one, the students voiced their own rodent-induced losses.
“This means war,” Hermione hopped onto the coffee table waving her scarf. “We’re Gryffindors! We’re not going to let some rodents get the better of us by mucking up our homework and clothes! I say we hunt down the pests and string them up! All in favour of deadly force, say aye!”
“AYE!”
Peter stood up so quickly at the thunderous roar that he bashed his head on the brickwork above. He had been surviving off the crumbs left in the common room. Gryffindor House was not known for its cleanliness at the best of times. He suspected some recognized him as Ron’s pet or took him on as a mascot or House pet. He was tolerated. There had been half-hearted attempts at trapping him, but he was no fool. Some other rat had stirred up a hornet’s nest by damaging the students’ possessions and they were now on the warpath. One sweet-looking girl was even suggesting vivisection.
That did it. When Neville Longbottom entered the common room, Peter Pettigrew ran out past his ankles. The Badger’s Den sounded cosy, and so near the kitchens… but Pettigrew knew there were at least five cats in there from eavesdropping on conversations between the students. He could not linger too long outside, not with Mrs Norris' successor Shanky about. Should he make a run for Ravenclaw Tower at the other end of…
Some students were coming down from Astronomy, half-asleep and stumbling over their feet. First-year Slytherins… Too late… A well-polished patent Oxford shoe caught Peter in the side and sent him tumbling from the Grand Staircase.
Sore and battered, Pettigrew scampered across the Great Hall, which was empty at this hour, except for Snivellus Snape. The Potions Master was sitting at one of the House tables, nursing what might be a sprained ankle. He had a large basket of moonflowers and other night-harvested herbs and ingredients from the forest. More importantly, Peter saw a half-eaten pumpkin patsy in the basket. He was starving. As the Potions Master loudly grumbled about his boots, Peter crept into the basket. The rat did not even think why the meticulous master had foodstuff in his basket of herbs.
Snape did not make a move to stop the rat that darted out from his basket once he had brought it into the dungeons. The Tracking Spell had been cast on a map of Hogwarts and the boys of the cabal were observing the rat’s flight. All they had needed was for Harry Potter to visit Pettigrew’s poor old mother over the Yule break and obtain from her a marble her son had loved. In memory of how much a friend he had been to James Potter. Uncle Remus had kindly arranged the visit. He had been in touch with the poor old witch since she lost her only son. The irony of the visit has delicious. It would utterly break the old woman if her darling hero son was exposed as a traitor. Imagine the reporters flocking to that neat little cottage like vultures. And Harry was looking forward to that.
Snakes. He should have expected snakes in Slytherin House. Each time he tried to leave, he would encounter a serpent. Thankfully, the boys here were as sloppy as their counterparts in the tower. There were always some biscuit crumbs lying about the common room. Unlike the lions, the snakes took privacy seriously. All the dorms were Warded against intruders, even the first-year ones. Peter found himself being zapped each time he tried to enter a dorm. They allowed him to get comfortable, let his guard down.
Being a rat was boring, but it did have its perks Sneaking about, spying… The Gryffs were careless. Good for entertainment. The girls’ dorms might keep the boys out, but it did not work in the opposite way. And the older students often had their girls over. Sometime to feast his eyes on and perhaps gather blackmail material to be used some day. Like how the team captain was playing two of his Chasers, or that torrid session between the Weasley perfect and his girlfriend. He had long heard whispers from Padfoot that things were spicier in the Serpent’s Nest. The Lestranges were proof of that.
“Think he has worked out where those snakes come from?” Draco asked idly as he rested his head on Harry’s thigh. In his hand was the map. The boys could see the dot marked Peter Pettigrew pacing about outside their dorm. The Tracking Charm was rudimentary, but it served their purpose.
“I doubt it…” Harry carded his fingers through the blonde’s silky hair. He was glad he had persuaded Draco to leave off the pomade.
“Sssserpensortia…’ Harry whispered in Parseltongue, making the blond shiver. Yet another viper appeared in the dorm and slithered out beneath the door. He gratified to hear alarmed squeaks as Peter fled for safety.
“Part two will need your godfather as the responsible adult, and two of us to put up a show. Common room sex under the Black Lake. Think Pansy be willing to participate?”
“Potter, you can’t be serious… We’re only thirteen…”
“Pooh, I thought they say Slytherins start young… And it doesn’t have to be a girl…” Harry winked and was gratified to see Draco’s cheeks turn pink.
“Wait, you want me to get caught in flagrante delicto by my godfather and a voyeuristic rat?”
“And I will be right there with you, each step of the way…” Harry very pointedly rubbed his stockinged foot against the other boy’s groin, eliciting a soft moan.
Tom Marvolo Riddle’s love life had been non-existent. He had inherited his Muggle father’s good looks. Possibly the only good thing Tom Riddle Sr had ever done right by his son. A double-edged sword. The neighbourhood matrons were inclined to make a pet of him, offer some scraps of kindness to see him smile. A cookie, a cup of tea, a shilling to post a letter… Then there was the unwanted attention he got for being a pretty boy both in the snake’s den and on the London streets.
Mrs Cole was not going to give that talk. The orphans were on their own. The older children in Wools were exploring very much like the students in Hogwarts by the time they were thirteen. One unfortunate girl got thrown out after she got knocked up at that tender age. The first time Tom had been with a girl, it was with someone he met in the air-raid shelter. It had been a hurried, animalistic affair conducted in an alley during a blackout. They both parted ways without even exchanging names, which suited Tom just fine.
His good looks quickly caught the attention of the Grandmaster of the Knights of Walpurgis and earned him those private meetings. His pederastic Lordship Armand Malfoy III liked them young. Favours in exchange for access to the secret magicks. Yet not good enough for him to offer shelter from the bombs and war in Muggle London at his manor during the long summers. Charming his son Abraxas was almost as easy as his father. Both were cast from the same mould and favoured young males. Lucius Malfoy was another matter. Tom, or rather Voldemort, no longer needed to resort to that, having more than half of the old families in his pocket by then. Yet it seemed almost fitting if Harry were to be the one to despoil the Malfoy clan’s only heir.
And Draco might actually enjoy that.
Notes:
I was wondering if the girls’ dorms would allow Scabbers entry since they are Spelled to keep boys out. I understand it was never tested as the rat stayed mostly with Ron. Imaging a confused Ginny trying to take Scabbers to her dorm and ending up sliding down the stairs-slide and landing on her bottom.
Harry/Tom is inherently dark in this AU. And his memories as Tom influence that.
Chapter 12: Snakes' Common Room
Notes:
Warning for suggestions of sexual situations and hinted dubious consent. I did some corrections and edits but nothing too major to tie up some loose ends
.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Peter Pettigrew pricked his ears at the soft moans and grunts coming from the shadowy figures on one of the common rooms’ green couches. He peered out of his hidey-hole. His snout quivered with excitement. He had been going through a drought recently. The telltale sound of fornication was music to his rodent ears. Most Slytherins had the common sense to Ward their beds to the hilt. Understandable given the sometimes-deadly nature of intra-house politics. He could not get close to any of the dorms. Aside from two final year students snogging on the couch before their midterms, there was nothing else to entertain him. The liaison was between two students who were of little importance. Some impoverished boy and his half-blood lass. Nothing but a quick fumbling before they were interrupted by their fellow snakes returning from Hogsmeade.
A glimpse of pale skin and hair. The Malfoy kid most likely. Both sounded like boys. The other was dark-haired, his messy bangs obscuring his face as he bent over his partner. Filtered light through the Black Lake shone down through the round glass porthole set into the ceiling above the lovers. Their school robes and uniforms were strewn over the carpet, carelessly discarded in the throes of passion. The brunette skilfully rolled his hips, making the blond cry out. They seem deliciously young too. The pair were kissing sloppily, all tongues and teeth. He had to go closer. The blond arched up, but his lover grabbed him roughly by the hair and forced his face back into the cushions.
Peter Pettigrew did not see the slight shift of an Invisibility Cloak, much less the spell had hit him in the back. Before he knew it, he was in his human form, feeling uncomfortably large. Then the dark-haired boy hit him with a silent Petrificus Totalus. Peter Pettigrew found himself staring at the Black Lake as the giant squid floated past.
“Must you wait for him to get that close?” Draco panted from underneath Harry. His cheeks were flushed.
“Probable cause…” Harry shrugged. He did not shift his weight off Draco’s hips as he stroked Draco’s flank. “Filthy thing, no?”
“Well, he does stink… Are you getting off me or not?”
“Mister Potter, I would advise that the both of you make yourselves scarce while I notify the Aurors… Given that both of you are minors and wards of prominent families, it would never do for you to be caught…” Snape purred silkily. Harry grinned when he saw Snape was studiously keeping his eyes off his naked godson and him.
“Right, we are too young for this… Though I am not averse to continuing this when we’re both older…” Harry teased as he got off Draco and Summoned his clothes over. “I do suppose we can arrange for your godfather to watch if that’s what you want…”
“Don’t be cheeky, Potter,” Snape warned. A pink-faced Draco grabbed his robe and hurriedly threw it on. He murmured something about Quidditch practice and was out in a flash. Harry took his time to dress himself before departing after Draco. He might not play but he could always admire Draco’s flying.
The resurrection of one Peter Pettigrew hit the headlines of the Daily Prophet. That he was caught in one of the Hogwarts house common rooms sent waves of shock and disgust through magical Britain. Whispers soon emerged that he had been caught spying on two unnamed students disporting themselves. The investigative reporter Rita Skeeter received tips about Peter Pettigrew’s less than savoury days as a student. How he had made a habit of spying on his schoolmates like a rodent, then blackmailing them. That was why Marlene McKinnon broke up with the older Black brother. She caught Peter spying on them from Black’s bedroom cupboard and Black just laughed – so the gossip went.
Questioned under Veritaserum by Aurors, he admitted to having been the Potters’ secret-keeper and betrayer. How he had framed his boyhood friend Black and escaped to live in his rat animagus form. That he had lived with the Weasleys masquerading as a garden-variety pet rat. A trial was demanded for the rat. His mother was ordered to return his Order of Merlon and sued by previous well-wishers for having benefited from her son’s crime. Another scandal quickly followed when it was revealed that many of the accused Death Eaters in the final days of the war never had a trial. Pettigrew was not the only one to experience a resurrection. A grumbling Frank Longbottom brought in his predecessor Bartemius Crouch. They found his Imperiused son hiding in the basement. Everyone thought Barty Crouch Junior had died in Azkaban where he and the Lestranges had been sentenced for their crimes as Death Eaters.
As the sole survivor of the Potter family, Harry agreed to give an interview, against Mom and Dad’s advice. Teary-eyed, he reviled the monster who had not only brought about his birth parents’ death but also violated the trust of good-hearted wix like the Weasleys and violated the privacy of numerous children schooling at Hogwarts. To make sure Skeeter only wrote what he wanted, he placed a Curse on her Quick-Quote Quill which would make her unable to read or write should she disregard the conditions he set. Hermione had developed that spell and worked it into the contract he had Miss Skeeter sign before the interview in the Three Broomsticks.
Sirius Black would be released from Azkaban into the care of his loving family and shunted off to a quiet chateau in France courtesy of the Malfoys. Frank Longbottom had his misgivings but there was nothing they could do to stop Narcissa Malfoy from taking her cousin home from St Mungo’s. Financially, she was better off compared to her sister Andi. Tom knew well the ways of the Malfoys, Blacks and Rosiers. Sirius Orion Black, as deranged as he was, was now Lord Black and an obstacle. A slow, insidious poisoning to clear the way for a chosen heir.
“He might be my godfather, but seriously, he has already failed his duties by leaving me with some half-giant to be dropped down a chimney…” Harry had scoffed when Dad asked if he would like to visit his godfather before the Malfoys shipped him off to Marseilles. Frank did look a little disappointed at Harry’s cruel remarks.
Hagrid was now working at the dragon reserve in Wales, thanks to Dumbledore pulling those strings no doubt. Well, he would have his fill of shovelling dragon dung now. Maybe he might get incinerated while trying to pat a dragon. It was pure luck baby Harry had enough magic float him gently into the Longbottom nursery. Harry supposed he could let the big fool live a little longer. The rat was eventually sentenced to the Kiss.
Harry Potter was a brilliant student, often tying for first place in class with Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. He gave no one any reason for complaints. Neville was a few placed behind, still a decent standing thanks to the tutoring he received. The headmaster did look at Harry askance more than once, but Harry was careful to shut Tom away when interacting with the old man. Harry was growing up into a handsome, charming young man. Neville had also started to shoot up with the onset of puberty, shedding his puppy fat. The boys were given dance lessons at home over the holidays in expectation of their eventual debut into society.
The DADA instructress was a hag this year – Barbie Yaga was a decent teacher, but the students knew she would be leaving by the end of the year, which was a shame. Harry made a mental note to try doing something about that stupid curse. Where was it anchored? He could not remember where that room was. The faculty had a Cursebreaking team from the ministry come in several years back, to no avail. No one could find where the Curse was set. Perhaps they should have gone with the pricier Gringotts team. At least goblins tend to know their curses.
Could there be a Horcrux in the castle itself? They had gone through the Chamber of Secrets. No soul shards. Miss Granger had finally worked out which tinted lenses protected them against a Basilisk’s glare. All members of the cabal were issued chic-looking, blue-tinted glasses. Clip-ons for Harry. They worked fine in the well-lit bathroom or Salazar’s office, but not too well in the dim lighting of the Chamber, so they went back to blindfolding Scher. Snape had to remind Granger to return to the Gryffindor Tower before curfew so she would not be missed. If she had her way, Granger would have camped out in Salazar’s lair.
The young girl was blossoming too, Harry noted with appreciation as she sprawled on her hands and knees pondering the scroll spilled out across the lair’s floor. Her figure was still boyish, but her curves would fill in with time. New blood and new magic to rejuvenate the old bloodlines… Many of Tom’s pureblood fellows had issues in their families after marrying close cousins once too often. Madness, squibs, infertility…
At the height of his power, his supporters were all too happy to offer their womenfolk to him, for him to sire a child on them like a stud with a brood mare. Voldemort had treated them all as a passing amusement to be used and discarded at his fancy. There had been fearful virgins, girls barely of age, ripe matrons all too eager to warm his bed… Their pureblood families would die of disgrace if they only knew they were pimping their daughters to a half-blood. Most were weak-minded and annoyingly insipid. He would throw them out in the morning bloodied, bruised and broken to the tender mercies of their families. If they were spirited enough to hold his interest, he might keep them for a week or two. There were never any offspring – their blood was too thinned by inbreeding.
Then there was Bellatrix Lestrange – wild and untameable as a force of nature. Her husband had offered his new bride to him within a week of their wedding. Mad thanks to the Black blood in her veins, and hopelessly barren. Hermione was smart. At the very least, any children born from their union could inherit her smarts as well as his magic. Maybe there was a little of Bella’s fire in her as well. Her Gryffindor-ish single-mindedness. Yes, Granger would make a proper mother for his offspring should it come to that.
“Need any help with that?” Harry leaned over Hermione.
“Is this rune isaz or iwaz?” Hermione asked.
“I think it is isaz…” Harry leaned close, so he was almost whispering into her ear. His hand brushed against hers as if by accident. He was gratified when her breath hitched just a little and she did not pull away from him. His voice was still that of a boy, but his tone was more mature than it should be.
Perhaps he would form his own little triad with Draco and Hermione. Proud pureblood Draco would probably die rather than hop in bed with a Muggleborn, which made the notion just that more compelling for Harry.
There were changes at home too. Ginny was to stay over more often during the term breaks, so Gran and Mom could teach her how to run a household like the Longbottoms’. Knowing how to cook and clean at the Burrow was one thing, but she would need to manage house elves and host society events. Molly made a fuss naturally, reluctant to relinquish her little girl. Arthur simply shrugged and said it was just as well they need not worry about Ginny’s dowry since the Longbottoms seemed keen on the match. There was no official betrothal signed yet. Maybe Gran was wise enough to hold back until both parties were older.
Ginny had tried for the Gryffindor Quidditch team and qualified as Chaser. Neville cheered for her above all the other players at the matches. Ginny was thinking of picking up where her late brother left off and playing professionally. Poor Ronald had wanted to play Quidditch and was a fan of the Cannons. Harry left them to it. It would be good for Ginny to prove her robust health on the pitch in school. Playing professionally was out of the question, but when that time came, Ginny could always be persuaded to change her mind if she was to be his brother’s good little wife.
The DADA instructress’ departure was sudden but not unexpected. While cleaning her chambers, a house elf had stumbled across the remains of a young child, apparently in the process of being turned into a stew. The Aurors were called in and their DADA instructress removed from the premises. Professor Yaga claimed she had bought the child from a Muggle hospital orderly. It was the unidentified victim of a drowning and none too fresh. It was going to be buried in a pauper’s grave, a waste. She had bought it for dinner just as a Muggle would buy a leg of seasoned lamb.
The headlines were full of nothing but that dead kid who became a meal for Hogwarts professor. Parents were questioning how Dumbledore had allowed a hag to be near their little ones. Barbie Yaga would vanish from the Ministry holding cells the day before her trial, much to Frank Longbottom’s dismay. Dad had been hoping for a fair trial for her, but Harry knew the anti-creature bias was too deeply ingrained in the Ministry. The secret portal they discovered in Salazar’s lair to the current Ministry came in handy. Zabini made use of his third stepdad’s smuggling connections to have her safely smuggled out to Morocco. It would be shame if the magical world lost a competent DADA teacher just because she liked human casserole.
Notes:
Harry is starting to work at cross-purposes with his Dad now.
Chapter 13: Engima of Harry
Notes:
A change of POV. Neville feels he is drifting from Harry. Folks around them consider Harry Potter.
Chapter Text
“What do you think of Harry, Neville?”
Dumbledore had asked Neville one summer afternoon during tea with Gran. Neville had gone into the house to fetch his new garden gloves, leaving Harry in the greenhouse. Before he could reply, Gran had gushed about how helpful, intelligent, and well-behaved Harry was. Neville could not help feeling a pang of jealousy at times when his Gran, Dad, and Mom praised his foster brother so.
They had grown up together, Harry helping Neville where he lagged. Harry had stuck up for and protected his brother from Uncle Algie’s bullying. A late bloomer. They had believed him a squib for many years. Harry had always been at his side, until he was Sorted to Slytherin.
Well, Harry still made time for him, bridging the gulf between their Houses. Ron had warned Neville not to mix with the snakes, but Ron was dead now. Draco started helping Neville in Potions. Professor Snape was less harsh on him. Harry was behind all that somehow, but Neville could not explain how or why. He just knew. Harry was popular in a way Neville was not. He had seen how the Slytherin students of all years orbited around Harry. How the House known for its blood purity fixation started opening their arms to the Muggleborns, mentoring them in the ways of magic. The academically brilliant Granger was quickly part of the Slytherin witches’ clique, which included the daughters of powerful pureblood families like the Greengrasses and Parkinsons.
There was that incident at the end of the first year. Neville felt bad he had somehow lost the Stone. He could not recall how he had defeated Voldemort in that room. Was it really just him, Granger and Finnegan? Both Granger and Finnegan were not with him in the end. Finnegan could not even remember going after the Stone. Granger agreed with what Neville did recall, until the flames. He had sent her back to fetch an adult. Yet he was sure someone else was present there in the mirror chamber. His head ached when he had tried to recall at the headmaster’s pressing. Gran, Mom and Dad had put a stop to that when Harry told them how Dumbledore was pestering him in the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore had gotten into trouble with the Ministry over the Cerberus he lost and the broken mirror…
Harry had hated Professor Lockhart from day one. After the Cornish Pixies debacle, Harry had visited Neville in the Hospital Wing. His brother had threatened to get back at the idiot for letting his brother get hurt. He heard that Lockhart had made life difficult for Harry. Dad needed to threaten him with arrest to stop him from pestering Harry into some photoshoot or book deal. Surely, he could not be responsible for Lockhart’s disappearance months later towards the end of term. No, Harry was a good wizard. One day he might even be Minister of Magic.
Maybe he was too close with the Malfoy heir, which Gran and Dad still looked on with suspicion given Lord Malfoy’s politics. Yet Draco had been nothing but helpful to Neville in Potions. Maybe there was something on between Harry and Draco. They were often together, in class or at meals. Sometimes Harry would have his arm around Draco, but not in a brotherly manner. Maybe they were just very good friends.
It was odd knowing that his friendship with Ginny was encouraged by Gran. That one day she might even be his wife. They were both too young surely… Dad had already given him and Harry the Talk. Mom was already teaching Ginny how to instruct the elves in preparing their meals at her last visit. Percy had to stop tutoring Neville when he got a full-time job at the Ministry, but he did recommend a Ravenclaw who needed the gold to pick up where he had left off. Neville was more confident now. He needed less tutoring. His magic was growing more stable as well as stronger. Late bloomer, Gran had chuckled. Mom had noticed Neville’s talent with plants, a gift that was suited to the Longbottom’s family business. Dad said that if he were interested, He might have the family’s business manager discuss the business and operational side of things with his son. Neville need not go work for the Ministry or join the Aurors if he did not wish to do so. Frank had found early on that he had no affinity with plant life and was content to leave the operations to other members of the family as well as the management team his parents had helped set in place.
Harry was different. His brother had made it clear he wanted to be someone in the Ministry when he grew up. When Lockhart vanished without a trace, Harry did not seem too bothered. However, when Professor Yaga got arrested, Harry had been upset. She was a nice witch, even if she was a hag. Neville thought Harry was secretly smiling over his porridge bowl when Dad complained about the Aurors somehow losing their DADA instructress from a Ministry holding cell.
He had to ask.
“Harry, did you have anything to do with Lockhart or Yaga vanishing?” he asked quietly when they were mucking about the greenhouse.
“Why would you think that, Neville?” Harry nonchalantly repotted his Screechsnap.
“I dunno… it’s just that, Professor Dumbledore…”
“The old fool’s a tiresome meddler… don’t listen to him!” Harry snapped with such venom that Neville flinched. The plant Harry was repotting screamed as the trowel dug into its stem.
“Oops…” Harry blinked and gave a somewhat panicky look at his brother. “Neville, I think I may have killed it…”
“Allow me, Harry,” Neville took the wounded plant from his brother and carried it over to the little cabinet where they kept the healing potions. Crisis averted. Harry let out a breath he had not known he was holding. He would love to let his brother into the cabal, but Neville still lacked the guile. His cabal was growing steadily. He had recruited the Weasley twins with Granger’s help. The boys were keen to access magical and financial support for their planned business in joke products. At the very least, Snape said it would save the headmaster having to write letters of condolences to their parents should any of their experimentations go awry. They could prove to be an invaluable source of funds in the future should their entrepreneurship pay off. Once again, Harry could not understand why the old pureblood families had looked down on those who made their fortunes through trade like the Potters did. Heck, even the snottiest families like the Malfoys and Blacks had dabbled in business on the side, albeit through proxies. It was that or watch their vaults empty out as the Gaunts did.
The eagles and badgers had proved somewhat disappointing in terms of talent so far. He had recruited a Claw once, as Voldemort… but never a Puff. There was a girl in Ravenclaw, he might want to keep an eye on – Luna Lovegood. The girl saw things, and was smart enough to hold her peace, or hide it behind her babbles about Nargles and the like. He would leave her be for now as she was not threat to him.
It bothered Remus Lupin that Harry Potter was nothing like his parents. No, that was unfair. Harry was a good kid, his own person. It had bothered him how the boy had refused to have anything to do with Sirius Black, his godfather. Maybe he had inherited that stubborn streak from Lily. Lily’s falling out with Severus Snape had been so complete after that unfortunate incident in their sixth year. Now Harry had renounced all ties with poor Sirius over having him with Hagrid, who had dropped him from the sky on the way to Dumbledore.
After that fateful Halloween, things had changed between Lupin and Harry. Young Harry had refused to be carried by Lupin afterwards where he had gladly sought out Uncle Moony before. He would bite, claw and scream until Frank or Alice took him back. Perhaps it was the horror of that night. No one really knew. The uneasy gulf between them was unbridgeable. Black was sick, possibly dying. He was not doing well in France despite Cousin Cissy’s best efforts. The Malfoys had allowed Andi Tonks to visit him just that once. The Black madness had its claws deep into Sirius. Growling and crawling on all fours like some rabid animal. He had almost torn out his cousin’s throat were it not for the swift action of a house-elf. The healers from St Denis had diagnosed him with incurable mental degeneration, likely a combination of prolonged Dementor exposure and hereditary madness. Maybe it was for the best that Harry did not remember his Uncle Padfoot this way.
In Hogwarts, the last preparations were made for the start of the new school year, and something else. It was a probably the worst-kept secret in all of Britain by now. Hogwarts was to host the Triwizard Tournament – an idiotic notion by Minister Fudge to improve Britain’s international standing. Frank Longbottom had been furious. It was bad enough their nation had been chosen to host the finals of the Quidditch World Cup. Ludo Bagman was selected to replace Crouch after his disgrace, but he was well out of his depth. They had to call in the ICW for assistance on both events since the first proposal on the security protocols were rejected. It was too late to move the World Cup venue, but both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had stated categorically that they would withdraw from the tournament if the security arrangements were not improved. The Auror Corps would be stretched to their limits as they were recovering from the loss of the war still and new recruits were not up to par. It was a miracle that apart from a spot of Muggle-baiting by some drunk fools, then a riot supposedly by disgruntled Irish fans, the first event ended without anyone killed. That left the tournament.
Then there was Harry Potter…
“Here’s the security plan, not ideal but that’s all the manpower we have… What’s on your mind, old friend?” Moody asked as he thumped his way into the office. He had been called out of retirement to assist with the security.
“I am worried… Voldemort might choose this tournament to return…” the headmaster admitted. “Harry, he is nothing we expected him to be…”
“What were you expecting the lad to be? A Gryffindor?” Moody shrugged. “We had good recruits from the Snakes too… Shacklebolt, Scrimgeour, just to name a few. Maybe the lad might apply in the future…”
“What if I got it wrong, and it was never Harry to start with?”
“Still batting about that prophecy? I think those things put blinkers on people… Sybil is, well, not entirely sober at the best of times. Also, good luck finding some poor dolt willing to teach defence… I would like to keep my remaining body parts where they are…” Moody scratched his stump and took his leave.
Flipping nightmares. Harry growled in frustration as he punched his pillow. It always started with an invitation to a private meeting with the Knights’ Grandmaster before disintegrating into a weekend of debauchery involving his humiliation and pain. In turn, Voldemort had acted poorly with his followers, much the same as the Grandmaster did with him. No, things would be different this time. Harry Potter was not going to coerce his followers into his bed for some fleeting pleasure. His mind was clearer this round, not unstable from soul-splitting, though some mind-healing for the trauma of his past life would not be amiss.
Tom Marvolo Riddle had a youth fraught with abuse, physical, emotional, and later sexual. He just wanted to keep himself safe by gathering knowledge and power. It was the Grandmaster’s fault for not warning him better on the dangers of Horcruxes.
Draco Malfoy… Harry pictured the blond boy who had slept in the same dorm as him at school. He pictured the proud Malfoy scion under him, subjugated. Was this simply a desire for petty revenge against his grandfather and great-grandfather? Or even the current lord? Willing or not, little Draco would be a welcome addition to his bed.
Gagana had been busy over the summer sending out letters and little packages to his friends. The Longbottoms were not Quidditch fans by far. However, Dad overseeing the Cup security meant it was in Harry’s interests to ensure the World Cup went off without a hitch. He knew there were several Death Eaters at large who might cause trouble. Lord Malfoy at the forefront. He had sent a coded letter to Draco and Theo to keep their fathers out of mischief. Both Lord and Lady Malfoy had left the match early after their son came down with some stomach bug. The twins’ prototype Puking Sweet might need a bit of work before it was ready for the market. Lord Nott came down with some allergic reaction and had to leave early as well. It was a pity Misters Crabbe and Goyle were dim-witted enough to proceed with the planned mischief along with a handful of low-level recruits. They were all arrested by the ICW Aurors.
“Young Master Harry needs to go back to sleep… Hogwarts tomorrow…” Mikos popped into his room with a glass of water. “Does master need to change sheets?” the elf indicated a damp stain on the sheets.
“No, a Cleaning Spell will suffice. Thank you…”
One must always be polite to one’s servants. Mom had taught him that. All magical creatures had a place in the greater scheme after all. It would do no harm securing more allies than enemies.
Chapter 14: Triwizard Time
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Keep a low profile, let some poor sod risk his life for the glory of Hogwarts. Nope, of course not.
Harry stared at the Goblet as if transfixed, a slip of parchment in his hand. Tom had been the model student, prefect, Head Boy… yet that had counted for little in the end. At fourteen. Harry was underage. Or was he? Would that part of him that was Tom show? The Weasley twins had already attempted to cross the Age-line and failed in the most comedic of ways. The beards would fall off eventually once the Jinx wore out. Harry did not wish to risk that humiliation.
Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. With no Voldemort at large and the Longbottoms keeping a tight leash on the press, Harry Potter was slowly and surely drifting out of the public eye. He would still have the Potter name, but he was at risk of turning into a footnote, especially with Gran having enough of the gawkers visiting the ruined Potter Cottage. There were active discussions to have it placed under an Unplottable to deter any further curiosity seekers. He could ask Snape to let the wraith loose to spook the public, but they would have a hell of time catching it again. The Horcrux hunt was at a standstill with no further leads or memories to guide their search.
Harry had watched unobtrusively as various final year students from the three schools strolled up to the Goblet and entered their names. There was only a single guard set at any time on the Goblet. They were mostly rookies, just there for show. The power of the Goblet itself and the contract was the true security. Now, it radiated magic, drawing Harry in.
“Impressive, heh?” Nym Tonks grinned impishly at him. A metamorphmagus. The Tonks moved in the same circles as the Longbottoms and Harry had met Nym before at their gatherings. Nym was ill-suited as an Auror. She would have done better on the stage as a comedian or a performer. The Ministry just could not let her talent go untapped. Well, good luck to them.
“Mam says Cousin Sirius is dying… Ever thought of going to see him just that once?”
“He already blew his chance at godparenting. I doubt seeing him now will improve my impression of him.” Harry replied. With luck, Draco would be Lord Black in name soon. As he is still underage, his mother would act as Black Regent.
“It’s almost curfew. You’ve been trying to work out how to cross the Age-line, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You know folks have died in the past…”
“Didn’t seem to have deterred anyone…” Harry looked around. The last of the stragglers at the Hufflepuff table had gone off. They were alone in the Great Hall after the initial flurry of hopefuls dropping their names into the Goblet.
Imperio. Harry smiled as Nym dreamily took the slip of parchment from him, strode across the Age-line, and dropped his name into the Goblet. She then walked back to her post blinking her eyes as he lifted the Curse. Casting a light Memory Charm, he continued chatting about Krum’s Quidditch star status and how many of the French students were part Veela for the few remaining minutes before curfew. Mission accomplished. He returned to the Slytherin dorms. Now to see the Goblet of Fire’s judgement. He would be so disappointed if it chose someone else.
As it turned out, the Goblet did not disappoint.
“Harry Potter, did you put your name in the Goblet?” the headmaster said quietly and looked him in the eye. Harry looked fearlessly back, his mental shields in place. The rest of the Great Hall was in an uproar.
“Yes, sir. Just levitated it past the Age Line and dropped it in when no one was looking…” Harry gave a wide-eyed look of puzzlement. “I thought it wouldn’t work since it was only for wizards of age…”
“Potter, do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?” Snape hissed. He looked like he had swallowed a lemon as he hovered behind the headmaster.
“He’s just a leetle boy…” the Beauxbatons champion protested. Harry frowned a little at her impudence. No matter, he would soon sort things out. The Durmstrang headmaster – Karakoff was kicking up a fuss. Seeing the Slavic wizard as headmaster of Durmstrang was quite a surprise. One would have thought him in Azkaban or dead by now. Well, stranger things have happened. He could let things lie for bit longer…
“Foolish boy…” Dumbledore muttered. “But a gross oversight on our part since the Goblet of Fire was crafted in a time when a wizard was of age far sooner than now. And yet Potter was selected out of all his peers…”
“C-can we ask the Goblet to re-choose, Professor?” Harry asked innocently. The old wizard spluttered in frustration or barely reined-in anger. Camera flashbulbs went off all round them.
“Potter, are you listening?” Snape had a hand on his shoulder, all the better to shield him from the press and the headmaster. “The magical contract is binding for better or worse. You are now Hogwarts’ Champion. Your guardians will have to be informed…”
“Yes, sir… I’m sorry, sir…” Harry tried to sound contrite as he was ushered away to join the other two Champions for a photoshoot.
“What were you thinking, Harry? Dad’s going to kill you, if Gran doesn’t beat him to it!” Neville exclaimed as soon as Harry was released back to his table. The elder Longbottoms had gone out of their way to ensure that the Boy-Who-Lived had as normal a childhood as possible. There was that short-lived Harry Potter storybook series and numerous attempts to interview both him and Neville growing up. The Ministry had also attempted to have him open events and the like. Gran always sent them all off with a flea in their ear.
“Rash, almost Gryffindor-ish…” Hermione was with Neville. “Your name will be all over the papers… Hope you are prepared for that.” There was a mild note of warning in her voice. There was also a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. The lioness had caught onto his scheme.
“Tell the Weasley twins that I will be sponsoring their joke-shop venture if I survive this… I intend very much to win,” Harry’s eyes glinted behind his glasses.
“Ambition, a hundred percent Slytherin,” Blaise clapped Hermione on the shoulder, but quickly withdrew his hand when Harry glared at him. Make no mistake, Harry Potter was going to take the wizarding world by storm.
Detention. Appearances must be kept after all for their Head of House.
Snape scowled at the cabal as they filed into his office. Harry had claimed the stool next to the bookcase. The rest took up the settee and armchairs The Weasley twins had wasted no time in Charming badges supporting Harry Potter – Hogwarts Champion. These they were distributing for two Sickles a pop to cover the materials cost. The pair had thought it marvellous how Harry had bypassed the Age Line. A Ravenclaw had attempted getting close to the Goblet with broomstick but was knocked off by the Age-Line Ward when she drifted across it. Neville was in a tizzy at being brother to the Champion. Some of the lions were disgruntled that it was not one of theirs chosen by the Goblet.
“Of all the Gryffindor-ish things to do…” Snape grumbled and folded his arms. He had just endured a full hour with the adult Longbottoms and the headmaster. Harry was also there for Frank and Alice to fuss over. Voices were raised. Madam Longbottom had come close to whacking Albus with that brolly of hers over a slipshod job at security, though it was her son who posted the Aurors guarding the Goblet. It was a move worthy of James Potter working out a loophole in the Goblet’s defences, but Snape suspected there was more to it. And he did not wish to know.
“Dad, Mom and Gran says they would back me up the best they can…” Harry toyed with a book on potion ingredients and moon phases. Behind the bookcase was the same wall in which Voldie was sealed up. He had sensed the vague presence of another Horcrux in the castle, but he could not recall where Tom had placed it.
“DADA. You will need extra coaching on this. Professor Wickman has volunteered to give you additional lessons,” Snape drawled. “He will be switching with Auror Dawlish in spring to stave off the so-called DADA curse. Though cheating is a somewhat time-honoured part of the tournament, I will appreciate it if we keep casualties to a minimum. Yes, Granger?”
“I suppose I should let you know that the deputy headmistress has appointment me as student host to Viktor Krum since I am marginally fluent in Bulgarian,” Hermione put down the hand she had raised.
“Et tu, Granger? Is there any language you are not fluent in?” Harry feigned dismay to chuckles from Draco and Blaise. Theo only looked thoughtful.
“I thought she would have gone with an older student, but I guess there are more French speakers than Bulgarian,” Hermione’s eyes gleamed. “I have spoken with him. Durmstrang’s more focused on the martial aspects of magic, like duelling. However, our Quidditch player has brains to back up his brawn. He is taking Ancient Runes and Arithmancy at NEWTs level with a backup mastery in Warding when his Quidditch career ends…”
“You sound impressed, Granger…” Harry remarked with a stab of jealousy. Tom did not like sharing his possessions.
“Saying it as it is. I have yet been able to get close to Mademoiselle Delacour…”
The French Champion had been surrounded constantly by her friends. Cho Chang, an older Ravenclaw had been assigned to be her host. Draco and Blaise volunteered to attempt extending the hand of friendship to her in the name of international cooperation.
“Be careful. The Delacours are part Veela,” Snape warned. “Keep your Occlumency shields up…”
“Well, the Malfoys have a sprinkling Veela blood too,” Draco retorted.
“Si, Maman has trained me to resist such paltry allures…” Blaise winked. They would spy on the other two Champions with Granger.
“You have my blessings,” Harry replied. “Theo can assist me with research for the tasks, while Severus here pursues a separate course of action.” Hunting down the Horcruxes.
Hogwarts was old. The magic that laid her foundations ancient. Harry padded about the silent halls, savouring the weightiness of magic woven long before Tom Marvolo Riddle was a gleam in his father’s eye. It was dangerously near curfew. He had Severus’ tacit blessings to be out, but he must be careful not to be caught by another. Since Halloween, he had taken to wandering the castle alone when unable to sleep. There was another calling to him.
The Marauders’ Map. An offering given to him by the Weasley twins to assist him in his tournament and future ventures. Snape had written him a permission slip to access the Restricted Section of the library, but there were worthier tomes in Lord Salazar’s office. He checked the map. Peeves was lingering on the third floor. The Grey Lady on the fifth.
Her name was Helena Ravenclaw. A lost soul stricken with guilt. She had been tight-lipped about her life and death, but Tom had charmed the lonely ghost. A mother’s heirloom purloined. No, a Founder’s treasure. Secreted away in distant land. It was right that Tom returned it to Hogwarts.
Harry stopped before a tapestry of dancing trolls. He had been here before, in his other life. He stifled a yawn. It was late and he was a fourteen-year-old after all. He paced the before the tapestry thrice and was not especially surprised to find a door that was not there before.
When he opened it, he saw it was a bedroom, almost a copy of his in Longbottom Manor. Nope, not tonight. The pull on him was still there, but what was causing it was nowhere in sight. Almost regretfully, Harry shut the door to the Room of Requirement and made his way back to the dungeons.
Notes:
Harry-Tom is technically more experienced than his peers, and even the upperclassmen. It is a forgone conclusion that the Goblet of Fire selected him since he has the most extensive skillset. Cedric Diggory can sit this one out.
Chapter 15: Dragon Galore
Chapter Text
The first task was in the coming week. The cabal had gathered in a disused classroom rather than Snape’s rooms to allow the Weasley twins to join in. The older teens had brought Butterbeer and a selection of snacks from Hogsmeade. Hermione was absent due to her duties as student host to Krum. Snape was off chasing a lead in Little Hangleton. Tom had vague memories of the shack or a manor, he just needed to be certain which belonged to which side of the family. And more importantly, if they still stood. It would be a disaster if they had turned any of the site into a parking lot or a shopping mall.
Voldemort had not been one for press conferences and the like. True, he graced the headlines, but no reporter had been suicidal enough to request an interview or unearth his Muggle heritage. As Tom, he had been a model student, but that paled once he was out of school. Harry quickly learnt that the press could be most tedious to deal with, even though Draco insisted he try as Hogwarts Champion. The Malfoy heir was born to preen before the cameras, having made his debut at his own Naming Ceremony which was hailed as the social event of the year. There had been champagne in the fountains of Malfoy Manor and a grand ball despite the ongoing war. The Potters and Longbottoms had kept their sons’ Naming family only.
“Can I skip this photo shoot?”
“No.”
“Hex Krum?” There had been whispers that Krum was a bit too friendly with Granger.
“No.”
“Hex the reporters?”
“Only Rita Skeeter. She wrote a bad article about Mother,” Draco grinned impishly as he tried to tame Harry’s messy curls. Harry browsed through a copy of Daily Prophet. He was on the front page, looking rather bewildered by the attention. That suited Harry just fine to have everyone think him a mere schoolboy for now.
“It’s dragons, Harry. Charlie’s coming back for the tournament, during nesting season,” Fred announced.
“Nesting mothers. It’s a bit hush-hush, so we do not know which breeds they are…” George added.
“This time of the year? That would rule out the Southern breeds,” Draco muttered as he slicked his hand with pomade to try fixing a stubborn lock of Harry’s hair.
“I guess I need to read up on dragons then…” Harry shrugged. The only creature Tom had any real interest in were basilisks. Dragons were nigh untameable and too dangerous even for a Dark Lord. He supposed one could have an army of dragon-handlers to do one’s bidding, but the profession drew strong-willed and minded individuals like Charlie Weasley, not sheep.
“After the photo shoot…” Draco reminded. The blond had taken on the role of his public relations manager after a public and humiliating rejection by Mademoiselle Delacour as she did not date little boys. Blaise Zabini had fared better since puberty had hit him hard. He was able to convince the French witch that he was a seventeen-year-old transfer student who had to redo a few years.
They were almost out the door when a dishevelled Hermione Granger stumbled in. Her robes were torn and muddied. There was a leaf in her hair and a bruise on her cheek. Her eyes were a little too wild.
“Dragons – Hungarian Horntail, Welsh Green and Chinese Fireball,” she blurted out.
“Granger, what happened to you?” Draco exclaimed. “You look like something the Crup dragged in!”
Harry narrowed his eyes and met hers. He was in her mind. There was a weak push back. He shoved through that. Let me see. Trust me.
“Er-mione… see the dragons for tournament…” Krum waved his arm at the drugged dragons being lowered into their waiting pens. They were sitting on a small rise under a tree enjoying the weekend afternoon. Hermione peered at the beasts through the Omnioculars, then the handlers. The Hogwarts Creature Care professor was there having a discussion with the headmasters of all three schools. Professor Grubbly-Plank did not look to happy with the arrangements.
As Hermione identified each dragon, Krum’s hand moved down from her shoulder to the small of her back. She put down the Omnioculars and protested, He was more insistent now, leaning over to kiss her… The surprised girl pushed back and tried to pull away. He was shouting at her. Grabbing her hard enough to bruise… Pinning her down… Fear, panic… Scrabbling madly for her wand. Harry quickly pulled back.
“Did someone hurt you, Hermione? Was it Krum?” He took her by the shoulders. She flinched at his touch.
“P-Please… no…” Something broke in her and she started blubbering.
“I’m sorry, Hermione. Tell me, or a professor…” Harry said aloud for the cabal to hear. The twins were standing now, ready to defend their lioness.
“The photo shoot, Potter!” Malfoy reminded. “You can’t keep them waiting forever!”
“Fine, Draco. Fred, George, take Hermione to the Hospital Wing and fetch Professor McGonagall.”
Sending Hermione to Krum’s bed was not part of the plan, Harry insisted to himself. Somewhere in his mind, Tom laughed. Pillow talk could be informative, and Granger was pretty enough for a Muggleborn. Oh, how well did that do for you, eh, Tom M. Riddle? What secrets did the Grandmaster share when you were warming his bed? That shut Tom up. No, Granger was not going anywhere near Krum again if he would help it.
Hermione Granger was freed from her obligations as Krum’s student host after a conversation with her Head of House. The fallout on the Durmstrang ship was explosive. Krum was a skilled Quidditch player, but he had a bad reputation with the girls. Complaints of sexual harassment were quietly bribed into silence or swept under the rug by his well-placed family. It was fortunate that the assault on Granger was interrupted by a passing group of Beauxbatons students looking for a picnic spot. The shellshocked girl had stumbled away. Zabini had located these witnesses. They were happy to smear another Champion as a sexual predator, especially when Zabini let out that the girl was only fourteen, a naïve young English girl who just happened to be fluent in Bulgarian and did not know what she was getting into agreeing to a private picnic with the Quidditch star. At least it would take some of the heat off Granger in the Daily Prophet, which had been hinting at a possible romance between the Quidditch star and his young host to Harry’s disgust. It was not so much chivalry on his part but rather a reluctance to share his lioness. A few more years and she would be a real beauty – and a possible spouse and mother for his children.
Professor MacGonagal turned away all reporters. Grangers’ parents were called. All three headmasters were in a flap. The possible scandal promised to overshadow the first task. The Ministry quietly swept it under the rug. The girl was an insignificant Muggleborn after all. It would be best for her reputation if she did not kick up a fuss. Empty promises to the Grangers and a short leave of absence for the poor child to recover from the shock. Hermione would be so mad she had to miss school. The punishment was left to Durmstrang, which was a mere slap on the wrist since even the headmaster was beholden to the Krum clan.
Yes, someone should feed Krum to a dragon. Would he upset the poor creature’s digestion? The cabal could help Hermione catch up with her lessons when she got back. Maybe he could arrange a little something special for her. It would not be amiss for him to start courting.
Harry paced the corridor before the dancing trolls. The door reappeared. He stepped within. A library of books on dragons. A training circle with a model dragon hovering about spurting flames. Harry chuckled. Close but not quite.
Tom had hidden Lady Ravenclaw’s diadem well indeed. Perhaps Snape would have better luck in Little Hangleton. The memories were coming stronger now. A diary destroyed. A cup, a ring, a locket, a diadem. Ah well, he might as well as make use of the facilities so kindly provided by Hogwarts for her Champion. Harry strode over to the bookcase. Two days before the first task. Was he allowed to kill his dragon? Or should they keep to non-lethal spells? He browsed through a text on the Welsh Green, then the Horntail.
He checked the Marauders’ Map. He hated bantering with its creators, but he could not work out how to silence them yet. Four adolescent idiots. Were the boys on this side of the Veil still? Had they matured since? He had lent it to Snape to use once, but the map had been awfully rude to him. Draco was heading to the Room of Requirement as summoned. The Slytherin was not alone. With him was Neville Longbottom.
The Longbottoms had been helping him the best they could even though Dad was unable to tell him about the tasks beforehand. Pesky magical contracts. Mom had sent both boys books on magical creatures of the land, water and air. Zabini’s mother had news gleaned about a special license for a Sphinx being issued by the Ministry. It was regrettable that he could not include his brother as often as he liked in his special study group. Gran would have kittens if someone taught her precious grandson the Dark Arts. Now seemed that Draco was leading Neville into a training session. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door to see the pair waiting outside.
“Sorry, he insisted on finding you…” Malfoy looked apologetic.
“Good, maybe you can referee us, Nev. I need to test out some spells for dragon-fighting,” Harry looked meaningfully at Draco, who winced.
“I was about to tell you It was nesting dragons…” Neville blinked. He had overheard the older students whispering about the arrival of the dragons and their handlers. He just did not have the chance to meet up with his brother sooner with what happened to Granger and stuff. Poor girl had hysterics when Professor McGonagall informed her that she would be granted leave until Christmas to recover from the shock. Hermione agreed to go home on the condition that she be owled her homework and lesson notes as well as have sessions to catch up when she was back. Ginny and her brothers were that close to dosing Krum with Snuffapod Juice so he would sleep through the year.
“We’ve already figured that one out. Hard not to with the racket, stink and flames coming from the pens,” Harry chuffed. He waved to a set of dragonhide dummies.
“Draco, help me with holding the dragonhide so I can test a Cutting Hex on it.” Draco swallowed but he obediently took a sheet of hide from the floor and levitated it.
“I’ll help,” Neville chirped.
Notes:
Harry has no idea about the history of the Marauders’ Map or who created it. To him, it is just a tribute from the Weasley twins.
Chapter 16: The First Task
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Remember, Potter…. As much as I would recommend going for the dragon’s throat, these are still endangered creatures on loan from Romania. Any damage to them or the eggs will lose you points,” Snape reminded as Draco’s nimble fingers kneaded Harry’s tense shoulders. The blond was straddling his back as he relaxed on their Head of House’s bed. It was the night before the task and Snape was giving last minute reminders with regards to Curses allowable.
“Not to mention Dad will be scandalized if I outright AK-ed the dragon,” Harry murmured. “Drake, you have improved with the massages… Maybe we can explore other uses for your talented fingers…”
“T-thanks…” Harry felt the heat of Draco’s blush as his thighs flexed against the small of Harry’s back. Out of the corner of his eye, a vein twitched in Snape’s jaw. Oh, he so loved riling up Uncle Sev by flirting with his godson. Since Hermione would be away for the Yule Ball, maybe he should make his intentions towards Draco Malfoy public. That would get the public’s knickers in a twist. Or he could play the bewildered schoolboy a while longer.
Neville had his sights set on Ginny Weasley for the Yule Ball as expected by his parents. Harry wondered if his brother had asked her yet. Mom was discreetly steering him in the direction of suitably light-oriented witches his age, Susan Bones for one. Or Hannah Abbott. He was thankful the likes of Lavender Brown are not on the list… He might just AK the empty-headed witch for getting on his nerves with the silly babyish voice she had been affecting.
“Harry… I think you should know that I am going to the Yule Ball with Pansy. Father arranged it with Mr Parkinson,” Draco coughed awkwardly as he finished the massage. Damn Lucius to hell and back. Harry kept his voice steady as he replied.
“Oh, is that so? Do you need me to rescue you before midnight?” Harry sat up and donned his nightshirt. They must return to their dorm before curfew.
“Wait, you are not helping me get out of dancing with Pansy?”
“Maybe I just like watching you squirm whenever she tries to sneak a kiss,” Harry gave Draco’s knee a squeeze. He could keep his relationship with Malfoy under wraps a bit longer. Ask Miss Bones to go as his partner to the Yule Ball. All the better to give Lucius Malfoy apoplexy when his precious son is finally caught in flagrante delicto with the Boy-Who-Lived. Draco will look scrumptious bouncing in his lap… Good things come to those who wait after all.
The morning of the First Task dawned bright and clear. Harry was a little dismayed to hear that he would not be able to watch his fellow Champions compete. They were to be sequestered in a Waiting Tent before their turn and whisked off to the Healer’s Tent immediately after. Did they expect all of them to suffer injury?
Between the Weasley siblings’ open pranks and the more insidious rumours sowed by the snakes in his cabal, Viktor Krum was not having a good time. Theo’s Durmstrang cousin had it on good authority that none of the girls he approached for the Yule Ball bothered to give him the time of the day after the fiasco with Granger. His original date, a blue-blooded archduchess of Kyiv, received a letter from her sire instructing her to return home immediately as the treaty between Krum and Zyemichov clan was now being reviewed. There was also talk that the Bulgarian national Quidditch team was replacing their seeker due to his lacking performance at the World Cup.
Still, Harry had to smother all thoughts of revenge when he saw Krum. Maybe someone would let loose a Blasting Hex during his turn. In the past week, Viktor Krum had been forced to seek shelter on his ship and even take his meals there. An outing to Hogsmeade’s Three Broomsticks saw him pelted by rotten vegetables and hippogriff poo. Note to self, never cross a Weasley. The twins were caught, along with a fine parcel of their housemates who joined in. Granger was one of theirs after all. To keep up appearances, Snape had assigned detention scrubbing cauldrons or prepping potion ingredients to the students caught.
The downside was that Nott’s little potion designed to draw Dragonfire could not be slipped into Krum’s pumpkin juice. Even Cousin Maksim deemed it too risky to do so in the presence of Headmaster Karakoff.
“Don’t let him get to you. Trounce him at the task…” Blaise curtly nodded as Harry passed him.
Harry considered his wand. It was the only tool he was allowed to bring into the arena. It had performed well enough during the Wand Weighing Ceremony even if Ollivander did look a tad nervous when handling Harry Potter’s wand, almost as if he had expected blood to be conjured instead of wine. For Harry’s part, he thought it a waste of a decent vintage. He had Summoned a cup and caught some of it before offering a toast to his fellow Champions. Publicity gold, even if Snape claimed it made him look like a little boy playing at grownup.
Oh, do the ancients not toast gladiators before they set foot in the arena? Or toasts to soldiers on the eve of battles? Little would they guess that behind Harry’s smile, Tom was already taking stock of the other two and deciding how best to take them apart.
A dragon’s throat and eyes were their few weak points. The main danger would be from dragonfire. The next would be from the claws and jaws. Oh, joy. A lucky drawer. Come on, gents and ladies. Stick your hand in the nice bag and see what bites. It would figure that the Boy Who Lived had to get the most dangerous to the lot. If he survived this, he was going snog Draco silly.
Yes, fourteen a good age for a lad to be broken in, if you fancy that. Tom mocked in his mind as Harry waited his turn. Though you might wait to mature a bit more yourself before attempting more than clumsy fumbling. Harry decided he would send Gagana with a letter to Susan Bone’s guardian to seek permission to take her to the Yule Ball. It would be formal and impersonal enough not to give little Susan any ideas. He was not asking to court her after all.
Harry was last. He wondered if his fellow Champions had survived the task. While in the Waiting Tent, he did hear loud boos when it was Krum’s turn, followed by angry roars. Fleur’s turn was eerily quiet. Were Welsh Greens that quiet?
Magnificent was the word that came to mind when he entered the arena and saw his dragon for the first time. The Horntail was huge. She puffed smoke from her nostrils. He caught a glint of gold in the nest she was guarding. He started with a Disillusionment Spell to hide himself from view.
The dragon sniffed the air bewildered. Not good, she has caught his scent. He ran downwind, trying to throw her off. The dragon curled her spiky tail around her nest. So, a protective mother. Time for Operation Baby Dragon.
Harry Transfigured a suitable rock into a baby Horntail and flung it to the far side of the arena. The baby screeched like a newborn dragon would. The Horntail raised her head. She sniffed the air and caught the scent of the infant. Curious, she cautiously left the nest to investigate. Now was his chance. Harry sprinted forward and seized the golden egg.
The mother dragon had found the Transfigured infant. With great delicacy, she lifted it with her jaws, ready to place the infant to the nest. That was when she saw Harry running away from the nest with his prize. She dropped the false baby with a roar and spat a jet of flame at his back. He was still too far from the gate…
“Glacius Maximus!” Harry whipped his wand out and spun round to face the ongoing inferno to the spectators’ horror. A shield of ice rose from the ground in the path of the flames. Thwarted, the dragon smashed the ice wall into pieces, but egg-thief was long gone. Harry had made use of those few seconds to cover the remaining distance to the gate and safety.
“You alright, Potter?” Madam Pomfrey was waiting for him in the healer’s tent. Krum was scowling and sitting on a cot bed, unharmed. Fleur had a blanket over her and reeked of burned fabric. Her headmistress was offering a mug of hot chocolate to her for the shock.
“I think I might have sprained my wrist,” Harry put on his most innocent smile.
Krum had emerged unscathed but not his dragon’s eggs. His Conjunctivitis Curse had blinded his Chinese Fireball and caused her to stumble over her nest, destroying much of the clutch. Points were docked accordingly. Fleur had used a Sleep Spell on her Welsh Green and almost made it out unscathed, until the dragon sneezed in her sleep, setting a corner of her skirt alight. Malfoy remarked that Fleur had also utilized her Veela allure to power her Sleep Spell and sent most of the spectators as well as the commentor into a doze. The judge from Durmstrang had been knocked out as well and docked points from Fleur because he missed the entire task.
Harry Potter was in the lead to cheers from his fellow students. Miss Skeeter and the pack of reporters were eagerly waiting to interview him. Mom and Gran were there to meet him as soon as he stepped off the podium. Gran’s brolly was a formidable shield against the paparazzi pests. Miss Skeeter’s Quick Quill was already quivering with barely contained excitement as she deftly asked him about his plans for the Yule Ball.
Harry only blushed and muttered something vague about waiting to hear back. He was not going to risk exposing the niece of Dad’s colleague and ally in the Ministry to ridicule. He did discreetly toss a silent Hex at Skeeter to turn her bloomers scratchy for attempting to put him on the spot.
“What gave you the idea to Transfigure a baby dragon?” a reporter from the Wizarding International asked.
“Well, mother dragons are protective. Horntails are said to adopt foundlings into their nest,” Harry replied innocently. “I was lucky I managed to pull that off the first round…”
Liar, you were turning bricks into baby dragons and having Zabini, Nott, and Malfoy test their cries out. Remember the one that crowed like a rooster? Tom scolded. At least Malfoy would not get any scarring from the burns he suffered when his Chinese Fireball baby hiccupped thanks to quick application of Uncle Sev’s Burn Salve. It would be shame for those graceful pale fingers to be marred.
“You were amazing, Harry!” Neville bounded down the stands to greet him as soon the reporters flocked off. At his heels was Ginny Weasley. Good, the Compulsions Harry had been slipping into tea were working. “I’ve good news! Ginny’s agreed to go with me to the Yule Ball!” Neville beamed.
“That’s great, Nev…” Harry slapped his brother on the back. Ginny would need some dress robes fit for a Yule Ball. Could he convince the old cat to give her a weekend off to visit Twilfitt’s? The clothing store in Hogsmeade is so last season, so Draco insisted. Ginny was tanned from being outdoors training on the Quidditch team. She was the picture of a strong, healthy witch, but her complexion and red hair might prove a challenge. A darker shade perhaps? Her figure was still that of a girl – not much yet in the way of curves. A good modiste might be able to work on those slender arms and legs. Ginny would need to grow into her figure, and hopefully not let it go to seed like Mrs Weasley did after marriage. His brother deserved to have a lady wife worthy of gracing the society pages for the right reasons. Would Neville be keen on becoming Chief Warlock someday? The offices of Minister and Chief Warlock are separated since the formation of the Ministry of Magic.
Between him and Neville they might get to control magical Britain, if Neville had a mind to. So far, Neville’s an ordinary fourteen-year-old wizard whose concerns were handing in his Potions essay on time. Not much by the way of ambition, but as his friend Abraxas once described it, the Wizegamot is like a glorified tea party, well. It was until Nobby Leach got elected Minister and Dumbledore somehow finagled his way into seat of Chief Warlock. They needed at least four magical grandparents to qualify.
Notes:
The first task is over. Granger is still away from school until after Yule Ball, so she would not be able to help them much for a while. Unless they owl her their questions with her homework and lesson notes.
Chapter 17: Short Author's Note
Chapter Text
Hit a RL snag as in my laptop decided to Vanish my WIPs and notes. Expect a significant delay in postings moving forward as I will need to rely on what is already online to remember what exactly I was working on. I will also be reviewing which WIPs are due for removal or a total rewrite.
This fic might be removed or tagged for rewrite after review.
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