All Good Things…
Chapter 1: Adjustment
Above a lonely moon shone, casting subdued beams across a varied landscape. The light played across tranquil water, wherein a giant beast slumbered. To the left was a carpet of green, stretching into the horizon, with strange mists and screams whispering through the trees; the promise of something forbidden.
Basking in the scenery was Harry Potter, who stood upon a tower of stone, mortar, and magic. Below him sprawled a majestic caste. A place of learning and growing, both familiar and strange to his youthful green eyes. He knew its many corridors and even knew many of its hidden secrets, but that was from another castle and what felt like another life.
In that life he had faced adversaries, both primal and human. Life had been much dearer to him there, when a single miscalculation could have meant his own.
Now he found himself in a world bereft of the evils he knew, the struggles he thought were to be his. It was both a relief and a missing comfort. There a madman wanted him dead; here all he needed worry about was assignments. He supposed he could start over, find friendship in others, but that was a difficult task for him. He found searching out for those faces had caused too much confusion, so left his eyes to wander the stone floor instead. They could not replace what had been lost. What he felt had been taken from him; all because of grief.
Harry recalled that precious moment all too clearly.
Rage had suffused through him, mingling with disbelief. A crazed witch's laugh had mocked him, driven him forward, to grasp that one piece of family he had attained from a life without such pleasures. A friend had held onto him, restraining him, knowing what would happen, trying desperately to prevent it. Harry had not cared, had not been thinking properly. His entire focus was fixed upon bringing Sirius Black back from oblivion. Lupin's hold had been tenuous from the start, and Harry recalled laboring against it.
The strong arms had given, and Harry slipped through. Only when that curtain was before him did he think he had made a grave mistake.
The voices had greeted him next, embracing him in a dark and cold place. There had been pain, worse than anything he had ever felt, reaching deeper than his body, past his mind, and stemming from a place he had never thought to feel. He knew the sensation now, the power of a soul screaming in anguish. Pulling against strings that tied him down, keeping him in a place it was not ready to leave.
The voices left him then as he tumbled in the dark, lost and bereft of sense, of both time and physical. He did not know how long he dwelt there, howling in the nothingness, but that eternity ended with him again feeling, smelling, hearing, and seeing. Somehow his soul had brought him to this world, back into the realm of the living, contained within a child that wanted nothing more than live day-to-day forgetting each thing he came across. His experience sharing this body had been maddening, watching another see his memories, feeling him forget them.
In the end there had been a struggle, him unyielding while that child thrashed within his mind.
Then forever silence.
The child had forgotten himself, leaving Harry a hefty burden upon his heart, and a life that was now his to live.
Through that soul's own handicap, Harry had inherited everything he had always dreamed. A family that loved him dearly, and a life freed from the threat of death; a burden he had bore since first entering the magical world.
He should be feeling nothing but joy, but it left a horrible, bitter taste. Only through a sacrifice of his own life, and a crippled child, had he attained this dream.
"I never wanted it like this," he whispered to the soft breeze playing through his hair. It felt like every happy moment he felt was now forever tainted by that a sudden revelation, he knew why he had kept him to himself these past weeks; at some level he felt he did not deserve friends again.
Which is stupid! He kicked the wall before him. He drew a breath and gazed once more upon the peaceful landscape, letting its soft ways creep through his mind, soothing what wounds lay there; that the scars of a life lived in jeopardy had left. It brought him some measure of peace, some closure.
In place of the paralyzing guilt, he felt gratitude to the child whose body was now his. Through his own act, he had blessed Harry with another chance at life. One Harry would be a fool to cast aside for wallowing in guilt.
With renewed purpose he gazed outward, remembering that the castle may be familiar, but those living within its walls contained numerous surprises. Many of them with known faces but unknown habits and actions. Of which was the head of the school.
He sighed and turned around, eyes going to a slight figure haloed in a doorway. "Hello, ma'am."
"Mr. Potter." Came a crisp voice, tinged with the weight of experience.
"How long have you been there?"
A hint of a smile showed in her shadowed face. "Long enough for you to notice."
She took a halting step forward, betraying a limp. Grasped between her hands, aiding her steps, was a gnarled walking stick, crowned with a large, polished crystal. She possessed silver hair streaked with iron gray held in a loose braid. Lines were etched in her calm face, framing two hauntingly familiar blue eyes, though these were devoid of the expected twinkle.
Her gait brought her to where Harry stood, while her eyes took in all that Harry's had. "Quite beautiful, isn't it?"
"Yeah." Harry was not sure what to say, or even how to act. "Am I in trouble?"
A mirthless smile was his answer. "Is that what concerns you when the Headmistress finds you past hours? Are you planning something that would warrant such trouble?"
"No."
"Well then, I don't see that you have anything to be afraid of."
Harry was slightly confused, considering many of his bunkmates had been discussing how strict Headmistress Dumbledore was. "Right."
She chuckled. "I take the rumors of my harsh reprisals have reached your ears?"
"Er…something like that."
"Mr. Potter, most students your age would not be gazing upon something beautiful deep in thought. They would be happy and exhilarated to be here, merrily falling asleep without any care to the world. You, on the other hand, do not exhibit such normal behavior. Thus, I can deduce, that something is wrong, lending this to be extenuating circumstances."
Harry got a feeling there was something more to her judgment than just observation. "You talked to my parents, didn't you?"
She looked affronted. "Merlin, no. When there is trouble within this school, I work through the appropriate channels; those being your Head of House or Prefects. But your suspicions are right to a certain degree. It was, in fact, the other way around. Your parents talked to me."
Harry thought he should be annoyed, but instead was touched. A gentle reminder of what having concerned parents was like. "I'm doing better, a lot better."
She struck him with a piercing glance, capturing his gaze. "From where you were three months ago, a child barely able to function, to where you are now is an incredible feat, but that does not mean the road before is any easier. You may be better, but you have not adjusted."
He broke eye contact, staring at the mortared stones, daring not say anything else lest he give too much away.
"I see that I am right." She let the silence hang for a moment, letting her words sink in. In the quiet, Harry began to realize that though she meant them another way, they still held some truth to him. He had indeed come a long way in his short yet turbulent life. That knowledge gave him some measure of pride.
"Your peers don't have hardships like you. They take for granted their minds, where as you understand how precious it can be. Now, don't think me soft for being here, that would be a mistake. And don't misinterpret this kindness for favoritism. I will just say that I myself can sympathize with your situation. It took me a great while to overcome my own handicap."
His eyes went to her leg, and she answered his unspoken question.
"This?" She gestured with her stick. "No, this was acquired later. I speak of something I had struggled with since I was a very young." She closed her eyes for a moment. "I'll spare you the details, just know I understand."
Shifting his feet, Harry was uncertain what to say. He settled with, "Thank-you."
"Of course. Might I make a suggestion?"
"Sure."
"There lies a lonely girl who inhabits the library quite frequently. From what I can tell, she is in need of a companion."
"Oh! Oh…" Harry knew who she spoke of, and it was something that had been one of the things reflected from his own world.
"One last thing. I don't expect you to ever use your handicap as an excuse for slacking. I expect you to push yourself and exceed your own expectations."
"That's not really fair."
"Oh?" She quirked an iron gray eyebrow. "You've already made it this far, why should I not expect something similar in the future?"
Harry was left floundering, having spoken out of reaction, thinking it not fair for anyone crippled to not fall back at some point. She was right; if he had been under the circumstances she imagined him to be. "Don't worry, I won't be falling behind." Considering I've already taken all these classes.
"That's good to hear. I think it is now time for you to be off to bed. It is rather late and you have potions—" She cocked her head to the side. "You resemble your father rather strongly."
Harry smiled. "That's what everyone keeps telling me."
"I can imagine, but tell me, how was your first class in potions?"
Another's words came unbidden to Harry's mind.
I hope, Potter, that I will not have to dumb down my curriculum for you.
Don't forget to stir the cauldron.
Do you think you're special, Potter? That you deserve more attention than the rest of my pupils because of your mental deficiencies?
That was another thing that had been echoed from his world.
"It went as I expected." He refused to meet her inquiring eyes.
"I had feared as much. Let me be frank again. This is a school, where teachers teach, and students study. I expect a level of professionalism from both groups. I see I will have to remind Professor Snape of this.
Harry groaned. "I wish you wouldn't; it'll only make him worse."
"Oh? You think that little of my authority?"
"No!" He said hastily. "I just know he'll find other ways. Listen, it's really nothing I can't handle."
She smirked. "Heartening as that is to hear, I will still address the issue with him. Not just for your sake. And if he decides to get creative, inform me, please."
He only sighed. "Yes, ma'am."
She frowned. "People like Professor Snape, myself, and you have pasts that cast very large shadows; the trick is not letting that shadow fall across our future." With that, she left for the door, Harry following, both dreading and looking forward to the morrow.
True to her word, the following morning found Harry absent of the stinging remarks he had endured for the past few weeks. It was quite the relief, but the scowls he received did not bode well for his future.
Following the break in his morning classes, he found a moment to steal into the library, where, as he expected, he found a bundle of bushy hair buried deep within a dusty tome. He hesitated, afraid of how he would react, afraid of how different she might be. He summoned his courage and approached the table.
There stood for a moment, his presence undetected. He cleared his throat.
Two brown eyes stared into his, and then fell to the table where she took a deep breath. Lifting her head found two eyes narrowed. "Oh, hi, I'm sorry, is this table yours? How silly of me to forget." She spoke with venom, but it sounded forced.
"I—"
She spoke hastily, standing. "No, no, I understand. People of blood always get preference. Your lot has already explained that." She began to collect her things, but Harry did not miss the tears welling in her eyes.
"You don't understand."
She paused, taking another breath. "Did I forget some protocol?" Her voice sounded strained. "Forgive me, I'm just some muggleborn."
She's had it worse off than I thought. "I was just going to ask if I could join you."
Confusion clouded her features. Carefully, she peered around, asking in a low voice, "This isn't some trick?"
"No, it's not a trick. I've not really fit in too well myself and saw you alone. I just thought…" He trailed off. He had wanted to be a bit more subtle than this.
"What house are you from?"
Harry chuckled, remembering his second sorting well. Oh my, now isn't this interesting. Considering you already know the drill, it'd better be… "Gryffindor."
"Oh," her voice sounded small.
"You're not in Gryffindor?" he asked, trying to recall if he had seen her in the Common Room.
"No, I got sorted with the snakes."
"Really?"
Her eyes narrowed. "What, don't think I'm good enough?"
"No! I just found it weird a muggleborn would be put in Slytherin; I thought only purebloods got sent there." He narrowed his eyes. "And stop being defensive, I'm trying to be your friend."
"Sorry. It hasn't been easy." No kidding. "I'm Hermione by the way."
"Harry." Introductions passed, he leaned over, already knowing how to move the conversation along. "So what were you reading?" He peered at her collection of books.
"The History of Slytherin, Pureblood Ancestries, and The Pureblood Agenda."
"Uh…okay. Why? I mean, if you don't like them—"
Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not looking to fit in."
"I didn't say you were." His ire was beginning to rise.
She looked to him for a moment, a child where he was accustomed to seeing someone much older. She spoke, face set, eyes determined. "Know your enemy." Harry felt his eyes widen. "It's something my dad told me." She took a breath and added hastily. "I asked him for help a couple weeks ago."
That doesn't sound like something a dentist would say. "What exactly does your dad do?"
"He's a captain in the army."
Once again Harry was suddenly reminded that, though things looked the same on the surface, this was a completely new world. "Has he seen any action?"
"Some." Hands fidgeting, she glanced to the door. "Look, I think I'd better be going." With that she gathered her things and stood.
"I'll see you around?" Harry asked to her retreating back.
"Sure."
Harry exhaled as he watched her leave, having mixed feelings on the exchange. She was rightly paranoid, considering how the Slytherins must have been treating her, on the other hand, he had been trying to be nice. Forget it. He would just try talking to her later.
To pass the time until his DADA class, he read a book at random from the shelves, not truly taking in the words, only letting them slip through his mind. With the lesson drawing near, he left to enter the class, mentally readying himself for yet another shock.
"Good afternoon class!" Spoke a tall man from the head of the room, decked in robes of black and gold. Trimmed black hair sat atop his head, not a single strand out of place, while two dark eyes purveyed the youths sitting before him. "I take it everyone is ready for the practical?" His smile was warm and had a visible effect on the students. Save for Harry who could not but feel ill-at-ease with this teacher. "Remember what we discussed yesterday. Be mindful of those around you, cast slowly and speak carefully. This being your first practical in class, I don't want anything to go wrong." A small hand rose into the air. "Yes, Neville?"
"I don't think I'm ready, sir."
Professor Tom Riddle chuckled. "Neville, with that attitude you never will be. You just have to try." Heartened, the chubby boy smiled. "Alright class, pair off according to what I have on the board." He tapped the board with his wand and the names appeared in long elegant letters. The same letters that had spelled Lord Voldemort.
Despite the good nature of his teacher, Harry still held doubts. Was this the same man who killed Moaning Myrtle? Who unleashed the basilisk? So far his search of finding Myrtle had not been successful. It had been a distraction in the past few weeks, something to occupy his mind, and also to see if the man before him was Lord Voldemort.
Harry read his partner's first name on the board and went looking for the girl; though, he did not know her face, he hoped she knew is. Thankfully, she found him. Among the rustling of desks and robes they met in the confusion. Green eyes taking in pale green. Black hair contrasting against silvery blonde.
"You're Gabrielle?" She nodded, being several inches shorter than he.
"You're Harry?" She spoke with an accent, barely pronouncing the 'h' in his name.
He looked at her oddly for a moment, looking past her features and into his memories.
"Is your last name Delacour?"
She nodded primly. "Yes. You remember me from the sorting? I can't say I remember you."
No, I remember saving you from the merfolk underwater, but you were a lot younger. "Yes," he lied; with time was it becoming easier. "You have an older sister. Fleur, I think." He was not sure, he could not recall seeing her, then again he had not been trying, then again, it was hard to miss Fleur with her aura.
Gabrielle's face became petulant and she crossed her arms. "It is always about my sister. Always!" She gave Harry a dirty look. "Just so you know, you are too little for her."
Harry hung his head and held it within his palm. He was getting tired of people misunderstanding his intentions. "I'm sorry," though he did not feel it but peace was needed if they were to make it through this lesson. "I don't like your sister, I just thought I had heard her name somewhere." She looked mollified for the moment. "And girls are gross anyway." He tried to sound childish, but it came out stupid instead.
Gabrielle flipped her hair. "Not all girls are gross."
Harry blinked, realizing that interacting with those his age was going to get tiring quickly. Maybe I shouldn't even bother. With Hermione it had been a little easier, but he had known Hermione well. Had she been any different in his own time? He recalled her saying how Ron and him acted like kids, but she had often joined their fun. What about Ron? The thought sobered him quickly, bringing with it an ache. Ron is someone he had been searching for since that morning.
"You ready?" he asked, putting his mind to the task at hand. He readied his wand, one his hands were thankfully familiar with.
She nodded, biting her lip. She withdrew her own and intoned, "Perfectus Totalus!" The spell struck his shoulder which went stiff for a moment. She huffed.
"I'm going to try now." He cast the spell with little effort, and the girl before him straightened like a board. She tipped over and hit the ground with a thump. Harry cringed; he had forgotten about that last part. He rushed over and cast the counter-spell, watching her stiff body relax. "Sorry, I forgot to catch you!"
"It's alright." She managed, hands checking her small frame for injury.
"You okay?"
"She is just fine, considering I charmed the floor." Both students turned to see Professor Riddle standing over them, a beaming smile on his face. "That was some very impressive wand work Harry; I'm very proud." He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.
Who in turned felt like his skin was crawling from the contact, adding to that a sense of something cold tugging in his head.
Riddle frowned before removing his hand, his eyes carefully scrutinizing Harry. "Ten points to Gryffindor. Keep up the good work." With that he left to make his rounds with the other students.
Gabrielle was on her feet in a moment, eyes reassessing the boy before her. "How did you do that?"
"I practiced before class." That was his usual stand-by when people asked about his ability to quickly learn spells. He had tried to dumb-down his spell work in the first few days, but that had gotten annoying when he would try to do something wrong but ended up doing it right. So he was getting acclimated to all his professors thinking him an exceptional student, which actually felt like a nice change of pace. I know how Hermione felt now.
"Could you show me?" she asked, pale green eyes eager.
"Sure." It was not like he did not have plenty of practice with teaching the spell. By the end of the class she was performing it nicely, though still a bit too slowly for his tastes. Most of the class had picked it up by then, with only a few lagging. Neville, to Harry's surprise, had been the next to successfully cast it.
After DADA came charms, which had a two hour practical lab that afternoon. Classes done for the evening the Gryffindors were released. Harry made his way to the dining table, taking his usual spot at the end. From this vantage point he began to pick out faces and names that had gone unregistered for weeks. Susan Bones, Draco Malfoy and his two goons, Cedric Diggory, Cho Chang, Hermione, Fleur, who was sitting at the Ravenclaw table; the others still seemed to have ended up in the same houses. Many more tumbled through his mind.
Lost in thought, he vaguely heard a, "Gabie, where are you going?" Pulled from his thoughts, he saw the girl from earlier standing before him.
"Hello?"
She spoke in a haughty tone, head held high. "I will eat with you." Then she sat down.
They ate in silence, Harry wondering what she was doing there, while she began to fidget with her silverware.
"So what brought your family to England?" he asked, tired of the lack of conversation.
"We came over three years ago, after daddy was offered a position with your Ministry here." She leaned in closely. "They offered him a lot of money, too." She nodded to stress the point.
So Fleur had to transfer then. Harry recalled her disgust for the school back with the wondered if she had shared a similar reaction here.
From there, the conversation shifted from the differences between the two countries, and Harry found Gabrielle not be too much of a bore, though she seemed to put a lot of emphasis on her father's influence. All-in-all, it was not too bad a dinner and, he admitted, he did not grudge the company one bit, considering it was better than eating alone.
The sun was set high in the air, mingling with the wind blowing across the pitch, cooling those that were standing in line waiting, brooms in hand, eyes in the sky watching those already trying out. Harry saw the usual suspects, only two being missing. Among the Chasers were Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, along with a short fourth year he was not sure had been present in his own time. The Keeper and captain were still the same fanatic he had known for four years; Oliver Wood.
The greater shock were the Beaters, or lack of one. Only one of the twins had made the team, Fred he heard someone call him, with Lee Johnson being the other. He was not sure what this portended, but it was definitely a curiosity.
For now there were four people in the air trading a quaffle back and forth, among them the team's chasers. With a critical eye, Oliver was watching, seeing if any could outperform his 'girls.' So far, at least to Harry's eyes, there was little competition. After sometime of watching and waiting, Oliver blew his whistle and called for a halt. He gave a curt speech about not being good enough and to practice for next year.
Next up were people trying for the position of Beater, to which there was again little competition; Lee and Fred were brutal. Again the same speech and so far the roster had not changed. Before the captain had the chance to speak, someone asked if they would try for the position of Keeper. Harry thought his name was Maclaggen.
Oliver laughed. "Nope, I'm the best there is. Time to see if any of you are good enough to be our new Seeker!"
Last year's had been a seventh year, leaving the position vacant. From what people were saying it seemed he was not that great, costing the team game after game.
First up were a pair of second years who were both horrible. Annoyed, Oliver called them in only after a few minutes in the air. The next two were better, one even managing to catch the snitch, though Harry knew it to be more luck than skill. Finally, came him and the fourth year named Adam Atleson.
His presence drew a few snickers and Harry could only imagine what they thought. Some first year, with his brand new broom, and hot-shot dad. He would show them real flying!
He mounted the broom, ignoring the comments and Adam's smile. Though the fourth year's statement he heard. "Don't fall off firstie." Harry grit his teeth, feeling the broom's smooth texture. The bristles were arrayed in a narrow pattern, fanning out at the end; a technique James had asked his team's Seeker about.
"Alright," Oliver released the snitch. "Go!"
Harry was off like a rocket, hearing a 'whoa,' before the wind was in his ears. Shooting after the snitch was easy, but he wanted to give the gawking people a little show. The fourth year trailed behind him, eyes intent on the golden prize. Harry slowed and veered to the left, cutting him off. Adam compensated by going down, Harry forced his broom faster, making a tight arch and again shooting across his path.
"Don't fall off!" He cried as he swept passed him.
Adam hunkered down and went forward, trying to out-distance his rival. Harry smiled, tailing him inches from his bristles.
Adam went down, hand for the stitch, but it shot up abruptly. He cursed and adjusted only to glance back and give a startled cry. Harry smirked and waved. Adam tried a simple maneuver, trying to shake him; it did not work. He kept giving Harry nervous glances, while trying more and more unskilled aerial stunts. The two thus occupied the snitch disappeared into the pitch.
Growing bored, and thinking his opponent had learned his lesson, Harry let him be and rose into the air, eyes now open for the tiny ball. He flew a circuit around the pitch, looking for any flash of gold. Below, Adam was doing the same, though he stayed near the grass, every now and then shooting Harry a wary look.
Then Harry saw it, fluttering near the grass in an erratic flight, waiting for him to pluck it from the air. He shot down, pushing the broom as fast as it could go. At the corner of his eye he saw Adam mirroring him but he was too far away. The snitch, as if sensing its fate, made a break for the sky, Harry adjusted his dive and cornered it in seconds. His hand darted out and he grasped it easily, before turning back to the waiting crowd.
Landing brought silence. Dismounting brought Oliver, eyes glowing with obvious approval. Without preamble, he smacked Harry on the back and addressed those gathered. "Whelp, it looks like we got ourselves a Seeker!"
Then came the cheering. Harry no longer felt too bitter about their comments from the start. The team converged on him and Oliver, excitement rolling off their tongues. After the tumultuous greeting, Oliver addressed them, citing practice would be twice a week in preparation for the year's first match against Slytherin.
Joining the rest of those leaving the pitch, observers and those that tried out, Harry swore he saw a mane of bushy hair at the front. He felt the need to push his way to them, suspecting it to be Hermione, but he let the urge die.
As he returned to the castle, Gabrielle was walking next to him, merrily prattling away as was apt to do. Thankfully, Lavendar Brown was beside her, listening and keeping the conversation going, while he inserted a few words where appropriate.
She was somewhat surprising in her constant association with him. At times, she was interesting to talk to, showing at least some intelligence, but others, like when in the company of Lavender or Parvati, she was reduced to a babbling wreck, talking from what people were wearing to what they were doing.
"Aren't you listening?" she asked suddenly.
"No."
She scoffed and Lavender frowned at him. "I was asking if your dad had given you lessons."
"Yeah, over the summer. He said I was a natural." Which was the truth considering he had little formal training. Though, he had flown well in his world, his father had showed him a few things he had been doing wrong. New habits that he was still trying to learn.
Gabrielle leaned in, her eyes going to Angelina Johnson, who was walking not too far away. "I think you're the best flyer on the team, even better than her."
Harry looked her way, recalling in his time the black-skinned girl being decent. He thought he recalled Katie Bell out-flying her more often than not. "I don't think I'm that good."
Lavender scoffed. "Whatever. Coulda fooled me. Now back to what that Neville was doing in charms. Did you see how Professor Flitwick was helping him. Personally, I feel sorry for him, taking in Neville's act like everybody else."
Harry slowed down his pace, growing bored with the inane chatter. Gabrielle cast him a look, torn between Lavender and him. She looked crestfallen and rejoined her friend's conversation. Harry shrugged. You can't force friendships, you just have to let them happen. A lesson he had learned with his disastrous meeting with Hermione.
With those thoughts on his mind, he entered the castle, feeling buoyed by his accomplishments thus far. He was quite grateful to the Headmistress for speaking with him and helping him get his head out of his arse.
Though a quiet voice in the back of his mind reminded him of the cost of this new life.
a/n:: I've always had a problem writing a seven-year fic. Every time I tried, I would lose interest; because it was just a canon rehash. Same reason I don't generally read them. Then I sat down and decided to change the formula, just realizing that I could. Yet, I liked the setting used in Canon, so I used some elements and threw in some curve-balls, as the above can attest to. Personally, I'm quite happy with the result.
That said, I'm not too happy with this first chapter. It's probably because its a little on the stale, boring side. Nothing much happens and I have retread several cliches. Harry trying out for Quidditch, meeting the Headmaster(mistress) and going to class. The most boring aspects I believe, but I thought them necessary as setting the differences in compared to Canon. Hopefully, there were some surprises to keep people interested.
The next chapter will be more action orientated and introduce a few more twists, though one won't be new to me. A concept I carried over from a previous story. Also, sorry for the delay, RL can in the way.
As before, if you notice any errors or inconsistencies, don't hesitate to let me know. I hope everyone enjoyed it.
-byl, out.