Author's Notes: Phew. I'm a little afraid that I'm spoiling you all. Please do not expect crazy twice-a-day updates all the time. Yay for a fun chapter of backstories and explanations that my muse completely made up. Now if I could train her to stop waking me up at three in the morning to write...
The following week, Nanua had delivered the weeks-late letters. Draco had sent five letters in all. Harry opened them and then put them into chronological order. The first two were his usual normal sort, bragging about whatever he'd gotten up to and asking nosy or tiresome questions about Harry: what he liked, what he didn't like, what he thought about the newest Muggle Protection Act being debated in the chamber.
Like usual, Harry answered Draco ambivalently about any questions about himself. About the Muggle Protection Act, he was strongly in favor of it getting passed. As he read the third letter, Harry was saddened to hear that Draco's surviving grandfather, Cygnus Black, III, had died after drinking incorrectly brewed Moonshine that he himself had prepared and distilled. Draco did not feel the same way as Harry did.
Grandfather Black drank and swore too much and was embarrassing to bring out in public since he was never sober. He'd always been nasty to me, bullied my mother, and insinuated horrible things about my grandmother. It was because Mother has unusual hair coloring. He saw it as a sign of infidelity, the nutter. Additionally, ever since your Pedigree Scroll was put on public display, Grandfather Black wanted Father to have me cut off ties with you since you're a Half-Blood. He never cared that you're the Boy-Who-Lived or the Heir to the Potter bloodline or you've the magic to overcome the Killing Curse. Honestly, I'm happy he's dead.
Harry had to pause a moment and blink.
I'm happy he's dead.
If Draco Malfoy found his maternal grandfather so foul, Harry thought it was probably a good thing that he'd never gotten the chance to meet him.
The letter ended with Draco formally inviting him to the funeral.
Unsure how to respond, Harry read the next one which was mostly of Draco asking whether he had offended him and to please kindly respond because he missed his letters. Amused, Harry quickly read the last one, which was much less passive in tone and much more irate and aggressive.
If I don't get a response by the tenth of August I'm going to tell my father that I think my godfather is illegally keeping my letters from you, which will result in immediate suspension of Legal Guardianship.
That threat put ice in Harry's stomach. It had been difficult enough for the courts to place the Boy-Who-Lived with a former Death Eater. Just the faintest whiff of wrongdoing might mean Harry would be whisked away to live with the Malfoys, a thought that sickened Harry.
It was truly awful that of the fifteen or so blood relatives with magical ability, only two had stepped up to claim Harry. Why his great-aunt Augusta Longbottom hadn't done so had bothered Harry while the courts were still ruminating over whether to choose Lucius Malfoy or Severus Snape. Not for the first time, Harry wondered what his relation was to Neville Longbottom.
So, Harry wrote out his condolences to Draco about his grandfather, and then told him, in no uncertain terms, was Snape to be blamed for Harry's late reply. A house-elf kept my letters because he thought I wouldn't want to go if my friends ignored me. It might have worked if I was five. He thought that I ought not to go to Hogwarts for my own protection.
"Hedwig, I have an urgent delivery for you," Harry said to his owl as soon as he'd signed it and finished preparing the letter for transport.
She squawk-screeched from her perch and fluttered her wings to lift herself into the air and land lightly on his shoulder. He carefully stroked her head-feathers and offered the envelope to her. Hedwig snapped her beak on it and hopped off his shoulder; her left wing roughly stroked his face as she flew past and out the open window. He watched her in the early morning light until he could see her no more.
Twice already a caseworker had visited the last house on Spinner's End, and each time the stuffy witch had scoured the place from attic to basement as if she expected some Dark object to jump out at her. In her first interview with Harry, Ms. Jenkins had kept trying to lead his answers to imply that he was being mistreated or that he was being taught Dark Arts. Harry had almost lost his temper with her several times. If Nanua hadn't popped in with freshly baked lemon biscuits or cups of tea laced with cream and sugar, Harry thought he might have said something he shouldn't have.
Harry sighed. Ms. Jenkins was due to come again within the next few days. He bent over his desk and opened his next letter and quickly wrote responses to Hagrid, Hermione, and each of his fellow Slytherins—excepting Theodore who was too busy to pen a note and Crabbe who hated to write and read when he didn't need to.
The next day, it was with pleasant surprise when Nanua led someone, who wasn't Ms. Jenkins, into the undersized library, where Harry was finishing up the last of his summer Transfigurations essays.
He looked up, did a double-take, and then jumped to his feet to greet his friend. "Theo? You've gotten taller!"
Well-tanned, Theodore Nott grinned broadly, looking down at himself. "Hit another growth spurt, I did. I see you're still a runt."
"I've grown two inches," Harry said defensively. "What're you doing here?"
"Professor Snape asked my da if I could kindly visit for a few days to keep you out of trouble, while he was unraveling that ruddy Official Warning of Improper Use of Magic you received," Theodore Nott grinned. "You're lucky to have such a strong alibi. Only you would forget your wand at home."
Harry huffed. "So, what've you been up to all summer? I imagine it's somewhere around the equator, judging by that tan."
"We've been traveling through Paraguay and Brazil. Da's a collector of Enchanted and Bewitched Objects, and every now and then he likes to go to exotic places for fresh finds."
That would explain the book on Dark Artifacts Harry kept in his locked trunk.
"Did he find anything?"
"Oh, yeah. Loads." Theodore pulled an old book that looked like it was about to fall apart from his bag. "I thought you might like this one. Take a look."
Harry gently took it and opened it to the title page, which was handwritten in a language he thought looked like Latin. He didn't think it looked like anything special. It was just a tattered, musty old book.
Theodore pointed along the edge of the page where a long line of Roman Numerals were stacked up upon each other. "Do you see that? This was written nearly thirteen hundred years ago! Da couldn't believe that the Preservation Charms had lasted so long. He said someone must have kept reapplying them."
With fresh eyes, Harry realized that this was much more than an antique; it was an historical artifact… He very carefully flipped through the pages, where none of the illustrations moved. "So, it's really old. What's there to like?"
"It's a very rare Roman translation of an Egyptian potion-making book."
"What was it doing in Paraguay? Or was it Brazil?"
Theodore chuckled. "Actually, Da bought it off a Muggle bloke in the Congo. Said he inherited from his loony great aunt."
"And by 'loony'… he really meant—"
"A witch, yeah." Theodore looked over his shoulder. "I think you'd like it because very few copies of it survived the first burning of the Library of Alexandria."
"First? I thought it was the only one as it's destroyed now," Harry said trying to make sense of the gibberish on the yellowed and bound papyrus in front of him. There were some gruesome diagrams and pictures, which didn't move.
Theodore snickered a little. "No, it was made Unplottable—meaning no one can find it unless they know exactly where to look—and it's protected by defenses as thick as they get. That library is so jealously guarded that only a handful of people can actually handle the archives. That translation in particular has never been spotted outside of the Library of Alexandria. Da thinks it'll fetch a high price to the right bidder." Theodore lifted his eyebrows at that. "So are you interested in a one-of-a-kind potion-making manual?"
"That I can't even read?" A grin formed on Harry's lips because Theodore must have guessed that Harry had been at a loss of what to give his guardian for Christmas.
"I didn't think you wanted it for personal use." Theodore looked pointedly at the interior of the room lined with books, which was well-taken care of, but was… well, shabby. "I thought perhaps you might want to show your appreciation to a certain Potions Master for rescuing you from year-round Malfoy pomposity for the next five years."
Gently setting the ancient book down, Harry opened the drawer of the desk, which Snape had allowed for his private use, and pulled out a squarish, yet thin leather-bound book about the size of a post card. It was a chequebook, which Nanua had handed to him along with his delayed letters to 'keep his finances in order'. "How much you wager it's going for?"
"Five thousand Galleons at the least."
"Five thousand? You think I can afford a book worth that much?"
Theodore waved it slightly in front of him. "It's one of a kind, Harry. I can guarantee that Professor Snape doesn't have it in his collection and would desperately want it if he had the money."
"I'll buy it for one thousand."
His friend laughed. "You drive such a hard bargain, you rascal! Sadly, my da said no less than four."
Looking at his ledger where the sum total of Galleons he had in the account was listed, Harry thought for a moment. It was only a tenth of what he had, so Harry wrote a cheque for four thousand Galleons with the special quill and ink that had come with the chequebook and signed it with exaggerated loops. He pulled the thick sleeve of parchment out and handed it to Theodore. "That should do it."
His friend's eyes widened slightly, but he smoothly accepted the cheque without comment and then very carefully slipped it between the pages of another book he had. Grinning cheekily, Theodore asked. "So, did you like my birthday present?"
Harry nodded and then prodded the wristband of a watch with no face that he'd strapped to his forearm since he already had a Muggle wristwatch on his left wrist. "I would if I knew what it did."
"You remember my bracelet, the one that detects Dark Creatures? Since I know you don't fancy rings or jewelry, I figured you might like a Bewitched Muggle Watch. It's a bit fancier than the one I own. Along with going cold, it reveals the shadow of the Dark Creature nearby."
"Wow," Harry breathed out, staring at it. "This must have cost a fortune."
"Would've if Da didn't make it specifically for you. It's what he does for a living. He's very superstitious, he is. Believes that the Dark Lord might try something again this school term."
Dark Lord, again Harry was bothered by that title. In the historical accounts that Harry had read the title had been used to describe any Dark wizard who publicly sought to overthrow those currently in power. When a Dark Lord was successful, it nearly always led to a century of tyranny, until those who were downtrodden successfully revolted or one of the Dark Lord's closely held followers enacted a coup. Both options led to instability and bloodshed for a number of years until fighting factions consolidated and agreed to rule in peace. "Theo, why do you and Draco call Voldemort that? I mean, you both sound as if you're speaking of a hero or a king."
"Well," Theodore said thoughtfully. "I suppose it's because the adults I grew up do and the fact he's…" He hesitated. "Well, you have every right to hate him for what he did to you and your family… so I don't know if you'd understand if I explained why he's called the Dark Lord."
Harry's eyebrows drew down in a frown. "Go on."
"When I was growing up, he wasn't treated like the bogeyman. Not like other Wizarding families do, I suspect. The Dark Lord is the protector of pureblood families, especially those with ties to the darker side of magic. You see, before he showed up, anyone who did anything Dark for a living, like someone who raised an Opalescent Lionsnake—a quantifiable Dark Creature—to make antivenin was branded evil and made a Pariah."
Harry frowned at the term 'Pariah'. It must have a deeper meaning to it than 'outcast'.
"No one would help you; it was every man for himself. Any property you owned would get trashed, your livelihood besmirched, your family name disgraced, and your reputation tarnished. If caught, you'd get arrested and locked up indefinitely. If anybody tried to help you, they met a similar fate. It didn't matter if the purpose of your Art intended to do good; after Grindelwald, all Dark Arts were made forbidden to practice, other than for Defense against them."
A part of Harry didn't want to understand. "It doesn't change the fact that Voldemort's a murderer," he managed somewhat calmly.
"I know it's not. My da and I respect his power, but we don't worship and idolize him like other families do," his year-mate said quietly. "The Dark Lord is the champion of Dark Arts. Many of us in Slytherin have families steeped in that stained tradition, which hangs over our head no matter where we go. It's why it was so unusual to see you Sorted among us. Potters were champions of the Illume Arts after all."
"Illume Arts…?" Harry said.
"Holy, aural, and healing spells or charms. Also any study relating to Divination. It is magic that is of the light rather than the shadow. It is the predominant Art that is taught within Hogwarts."
"Are there other types?"
"Sure," Theodore said, "there's the Runic Arts, which the students in Ravenclaw tend to excel at since it deals with Runes, Astrology, Numerology, and Arithmancy, all things that require specific calculations into etheric chaos. Then there's the Terra Arts, such as Herbology, Astronomy, Magizoology, Weatherwatching, and other disciplines that study or change our natural world. You can guess which house those fall under."
"So most Charms would be under the Illume Arts, while Transfigurations would be a Terra Art…?" Harry said.
"Exactly." Theodore nodded with a grin.
"What about Potions?"
Theodore raised an eyebrow with a look of 'you figure it out'.
"…It's a Dark Art," Harry stated, thinking he was mistaken. "But… if only the Defense Against Dark Arts were allowed…" He then tried to imagine not having potions.
"Funny, isn't it? Imagine potions being unavailable because Potions Masters had all been rounded up and carted to Azkaban." Theodore's face turned grim. "A lot of people died or suffered quite terribly when they didn't have access to potions all because the general public was terrified of the Dark Arts."
It explained why someone might join Voldemort: to fight against unjustified prejudice. Harry still didn't like it. "But things have changed, haven't they?"
"Not nearly enough. Nowadays, potion-making is seen as the only respectable Dark Arts profession… But back then…" Theodore shook his head to himself. "If the former Headmaster of Hogwarts hadn't allowed potion-making to be taught, then Hogwarts wouldn't have the top Potions classes internationally as it does now; it'd been banned across the continent. The bonus is that Da told me that they'll hire you just about anywhere if you get a Potions N.E.W.T. from Hogwarts and they don't require that you get any extra schooling."
Harry gave Theodore a funny look. "But Draco told me that Professor Snape wants to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"I don't really blame Professor Snape," Theodore said, "Even among third-tier schools, Hogwarts ranks very last in its teaching of the Dark Arts. It's an embarrassment to Hogwarts' reputation that they haven't managed to keep a teacher installed for over thirteen years. I reckon Professor Snape could teach it and supervise the next Potions professor if the headmaster let him." Theodore's blue eyes looked distant. "Da always says there'd be no one better to teach offensive and defensive magic than an ex-Death Eater."
Holding his breath to quell the sudden anger that had rushed into him, Harry was momentarily puzzled at himself, until he realized that he didn't like people bringing up Snape's past loyalties one bit. He hated being reminded that his guardian had once been a supporter of Voldemort.
"Biscuits or tea, Master Harry?" Nanua asked by the doorway.
"I would love some," Harry said forcing a smile on his face.
She nodded gracefully and snapped her fingers. A plate arrived on the table with chocolate drop biscuits. They looked soft and warm as if recently cooked and smelled delicious. A platter with a small teapot also appeared with two teacups, two spoons, and a saucer with an artful stack of sugar cubes.
"Thank you, Nanua."
"You're most welcome, Master Harry." She disappeared without another word.
Harry took a giant bite of a biscuit and poured himself some tea. "I expect keeping me company will be unexciting since there isn't much to do inside. We could play Exploding Snap or Wizard chess?"
When Theodore didn't respond, Harry shot him a curious look.
"That house-elf is free, isn't it?" Theodore asked oddly, nodding towards the door.
"What?" Harry dropped two lumps into his tea, stirred, and took a sip.
"It has clothes. If it weren't free, it'd be wearing something else." Theodore was still staring towards the doorway.
"It? Don't call Nanua an 'it'. That's rude."
His year-mate shrugged a little. "If Nanua is free, why does that house-elf stick around? There's nothing here binding Nanua to service. That one could leave whenever it—she wants."
"Professor Snape said house-elves delight in menial labor. I suppose you could ask her." Harry turned back to the doorway. "Nanua!"
She popped into the room. "Yes, Master Harry?"
"Theo wanted to ask why you stay when you're not…" Harry looked at his friend; he was suddenly very sure he was about to ask an impolite question.
"Oath-bound to serve, sir?" Nanua finished nicely.
"Yes," Harry nodded.
"Does Master Harry have time to listen to a little story?"
"Of course I do, Nanua," Harry said warmly.
She lightly hopped onto the only other empty chair and sat, her thin legs kicking over the ledge of the chair. She tapped a finger against her lips as she thought. Her bulging eyes took on a vacant look and then she said, "Many, many years ago, I served a particularly dreadful family. As I was a house slave, I had nothing to wear but a ratty flour sack that itched day in and day out."
Theodore was attentive.
"One day, my Lady brought home a boy, a boy who was the child of the daughter she disinherited for marrying a non-wizard. He was very kind to Nanua, treated Nanua like an equal, and refused to let Nanua place her hands on hot coals as punishment for displeasing the Lady."
"You mean, Professor Snape, don't you?" Theodore said with a reverential voice.
"He was Master Severus then," Nanua's large eyes looked as if she was viewing something faraway. "Many events occurred that caused my Lady to be most displeased and very disappointed with him. But, before he'd been officially cast out of the household, he had tricked the Lady into handing Nanua a very, very precious item." Her wizened fingers went to the scarf around her neck.
"A scarf?" Harry said with some confusion. Was it a magic scarf or something?
"Yes, it was but a small thing, but it meant the world to me. I no longer had to stay at that loathsome household. I chose to assist the boy who had freed me for however long he lived."
"I don't understand. Why would a scarf do anything?"
"Giving clothing to a house-elf is like handing the key to a prisoner in a locked cage with access to the lock," Theodore answered.
"Oh."
"Is that all you need of me, Master Harry?"
"Yes. Thank you for telling us your story." Harry smiled.
"It was an honor and a privilege, Master Harry." She snapped her fingers, disappearing.
Nanua's story certainly explained why his guardian was living in a bad Muggle neighborhood. Lacking a chance to inherit from the Princes, Snape must have inherited the place after his Muggle father died.
"Wow," Theodore said, still looking at the chair where Nanua had sat. "Professor Snape is dead last on the list of people I expect to ever free a house-elf. I wager his grandmother went mental after he tricked her."
"Likely." Harry drank more tea and noticed that Theodore hadn't helped himself yet. "Are you going to have some tea and biscuits or not?"
Theodore peered at his cup of tea suspiciously and then took a long sip.
"You like your tea as is?" Harry said in surprise.
He nodded, "Now, let's play some Wizard chess. Da hired this annoying chess tutor because he was irritated to hear that I've never challenged you to a game, not even once." Theodore settled into the worn, squat leather chair next to the small table where Harry's chess board was located.
Taking one last bite of the biscuit in his hand, Harry took the mismatched chair across from him. "Reset," he told the pieces, many of whom had been sleeping in little tents or playing tiny instruments.
"Right away, m'lord," a knight said and then barked out orders to take positions. Several pawns grumbled unenthusiastically.
Theodore clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "I insist you let me win so I can tell Da that I trounced you at chess on our first match."
Harry laughed. "Going to owe me one, Theodore?"
"If that's what it takes to win, yes! To be candid with you, I jumped at the chance to visit. While my father was out having fun hunting Dark Objects, his ruddy tutor coached me eight hours every blasted day—chess strategies, play-by-play matches of masters, live matches—I just couldn't take it anymore. I don't even like chess that much, but my father, he says 'You shouldn't be afraid of losing!' He doesn't understand how bloody brilliant you are. I've never even won against Draco, not even once." Theodore grinned at down at the chess pieces, jostling one another. "I'll take white then?"
Harry quirked his lips. "Yes."
Once the chess board had set itself, he then proceeded to nearly overwhelm Theodore anyway; at the very end, Harry deliberately left a gap in his defense that Theodore could take advantage of. Of course after so many hours of staring at a chess board, Theodore saw it and checkmated his king.
"Thanks, Harry."
Harry pulled out a pack of self-shuffling cards. "Would you like to learn some Muggle card games? Nothing as exciting as Exploding Snap, but it's something we can do until dinnertime."
"Sounds like it might keep my attention," Theodore said. "Deal first, explain the rules after." Thus, Harry spent the evening teaching his friend Rummy, Crazy Eights, Pontoon, Old Maid, Trumps, Strip Jack Naked, and Brag, the last of which Theodore seemed to enjoy the most.
Harry thought he probably shouldn't have mentioned that it was a favorite amongst gambling Muggles.
