See, the thing with not posting chapters as I finish them is that I can go back and add stuff that I realized I forgot. Which I did here. So now I have the third year finished, and I'm not posting that until I finish fourth year. That way I can see how things pan out.
I'm really uncertain about how I'm handling Michael's character, since I know where I want to go, but I'm not sure how to get there. He's developing, but he's a difficult character to get a grip on. So, I hope I'm doing his character justice. I really, really hope so. I really hope I'm not going to disappoint you guys as you continue reading this.
So, this is me posting this.
Enochian is spoken like this.
Second Year
Going back to his human house was…strange. To say the least.
Michael could remember the love and affection Wayne had towards his parents, but as he was now, being hugged by an overly affectionate woman was rather peculiar. As was having his hair ruffled by the man he had called father.
The very thought of doing so now had him shuddering.
"You'll owl, then?" Ernie asked him once introductions were out of the way.
"Yes," Michael said evenly. It behooved him to use such a ridiculous method of communication, but he did have an image to keep.
"You're welcome to come over for a visit," Eleanor told the others.
"Likewise," Susan said, throwing a glance back at her aunt. "We'll keep in touch." Giving Michael one last wave, she went off with Amelia. She was still rather uncertain about Michael's identity, although that hadn't stopped her from continuing to associate with him.
Hannah was less shy, stepping close to give Michael a hug before leaving with her parents.
The trip back home was relatively quiet, Michael uncertain of how to behave around the humans he had previously called his parents. They would continue to treat him as a child, which would get aggravating in no time.
Dane sneezed into Michael's lap, clearly unimpressed with Michael's internal dilemma. He squinted up at Michael, impatience radiating off him.
After a few failed attempts at a conversation, Eleanor and Alan left him to his thoughts, clearly understanding that Michael wanted to be left alone. They'd doubtlessly heard of the events at Hogwarts, reports of Quirrell's unfortunate demise making it into the papers, so Michael had something of an excuse for his behavior.
That didn't mean it could last for long, as suspicions would be raised if he didn't at least try to act like the boy they remembered from the winter holidays.
Dane made a grumpy noise when Michael finally set out his food and water.
"It's not going to be easy," Michael protested.
Dane's only response was a squinty look.
"Yes, I'll try."
Seemingly satisfied with that promise, Dane went off to make himself home right next to the food bowl, licking himself with dignity.
Michael gave him some privacy, resolving to spend the night elsewhere since he had no desire to spend it lying in a bed he no longer needed.
Instead, he explored the universe he was in, comparing it to the one he was from. It was similar, but it also felt old in a way Michael was unaccustomed to feeling. He'd grown up with his universe, having been born close to its beginnings, perhaps a few million years after his Father had decided to Create it.
This one…this one felt even older than his, but also younger in a way. It was an odd dichotomy, and Michael didn't know what to make of it. Only that something was strange, and he didn't have the information or the ability to find out more.
It was disconcerting.
What was more, the silence was just as awful as Michael remembered from the Cage. But now at least he had the voices of the humans to keep him company, even if they were utterly alien compared to the voices of his siblings.
The voice of the universe was also present, and Michael clung to that to keep the silence at bay.
When morning came, Michael landed silently in his room, hearing the rustling sounds of the humans waking up and getting ready for the day.
He would have to join them for breakfast.
And…talk.
Staring at himself in the mirror – at the visage that was both familiar and not – Michael wondered what he had gotten himself into with this decision to stay.
Eleanor greeted him with a smile and a kiss when he entered the kitchen, seeming not to notice Michael's stiffness at the affection.
Forcing himself to relax and smile at her, Michael managed to return the gesture before taking his usual seat at the table. He had been a human child for the last eleven years. He could manage to do it for however long he would need to now.
"So," Alan started once breakfast was set, "how was your first year?"
"Educational," Michael answered simply. "And fun," he added after another second's reflection. As Wayne, it had been fun. "Is there anything you wanted to know?"
"Do the staircases really move?"
"You don't believe me?" Eleanor sounded amused rather than insulted.
"It just seems a little implausible—"
"I'm a witch and moving staircases are implausible?"
"You've never said what kind of spell does it—"
Michael slowly let his food disappear into the ether, carefully staying out of the affectionate bickering.
Once again, he wondered if this was the right decision and if he shouldn't just leave now.
But then Eleanor smiled warmly at him, and Michael felt a rush of unconditional love from both of them that was directed at him, and his core warmed at the feeling.
It was nothing like the love he had felt from his Father, but it was very similar. And Michael had no idea how to respond beyond smiling back, something utterly different from anything he had shown before.
Maybe…maybe this wouldn't be so difficult after all.
A few weeks and several bothersome owl posts later, Michael finally answered the insistent prayers and landed in Justin's room.
A surprised shriek and one thrown book later, Justin was apologizing profusely for having thrown the Bible at Michael's head.
Michael shrugged, bending to pick the book up and noting it as a recent edition. "I've had worse." Then, flipping it open, he saw that it had one of the more egregious mistranslations of Gabriel's message and couldn't stop a disgusted curl of his lips.
"What?" Justin sounded vaguely alarmed. "I kept it clean!"
It was very clean. "Why are you reading this?" Michael asked instead.
"Well…" Justin shifted his gaze downwards. "I just wanted to learn more."
"You could do better than this," Michael said, letting the book drop to the mattress.
"It's not like I'm going to ask you every little thing about your past," Justin protested. "Why are you even here?"
"You prayed."
"I didn't!"
Michael let himself smile, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "My name was included in your thoughts, aimed with intention towards me. It happened often enough that I decided to answer."
Justin mulled that over. "Do you do that for everyone, then?"
"No." There were certain voices Michael made sure to filter now, even if it was something he hadn't realized he was doing until he received Justin's prayers. Before, he would have disregarded everything.
"So all that about you answering prayers and performing miracles..."
"We haven't done anything like that for a long time," Michael said. "It was…" Unimportant, he almost finished with, but there was something that held him back from doing so.
"But why not?" Justin pushed the Bible aside, scooting forward until he was closer.
Michael could have said something about free will, but that would've been a lie. It hadn't been about respecting free will when they had stopped performing miracles. It had been about plotting and bringing about the end.
Looking down at his feet, Michael found he had nothing to say.
Several awkward minutes later, Justin realized Michael wasn't going to answer his question. "So…why don't you start doing it again, then?"
Michael glanced up at him, surprised.
"It's got to be boring just sitting around, yeah?" Justin looked vaguely nervous. "So maybe do something…angelic."
Bemused, Michael held his gaze until Justin squirmed and looked away, visibly embarrassed.
"It was probably stupid anyway," Justin muttered.
"No, it wasn't." Michael looked for the right words. "It just…isn't something we do."
"But why not?" Justin asked. "Everything I've looked at and read says that if we want help, we pray. Are you saying no one's listening?"
There was no one here to listen. Michael was the only one.
"Yes," Michael answered finally. He didn't apologize; it wouldn't help.
"Oh." Justin looked stricken, eyes falling to the Bible. "I… Okay. So…you guys aren't what we thought you were."
"Did you forget Dad's other message? The one about being their protectors?" Michael flinched at the memory of his brother's voice, angry, hurt, and raw. He'd forgotten the message. Time had buried it under the weight of everything else.
He had made so many mistakes – had so much to repent.
But he didn't have the energy or the will to do what Justin was expecting. And yet…
"I would listen for you," Michael said softly, something like anxiety flickering through him. "If you prayed…I would answer."
Justin's head snapped up. "Would you? Why?"
The answer, when it came, was surprisingly easy. "You're my friend." He'd never had any of those. His family didn't really count.
"You're sure of that now?" There was barely hidden humor in Justin's voice.
Michael inclined his head, more sure of this than he was of anything else that he was doing now.
He hoped – no, prayed – that what he was doing was right. Because if it wasn't, if this was another mistake…
Michael couldn't afford anymore.
The rest of the summer passed peacefully enough, punctuated only by the visits Michael allowed himself, both via human and normal means. Justin's reaction wasn't even the most violent, as Susan had gone for a potion and dumped it over his head only to reel back in horror when noticing who she had just dowsed in poison.
Hannah had simply shrieked and thrown a badly aimed mirror at him, which promptly shattered upon hitting the wall. Ernie's reaction had been the calmest, flinching back violently enough that his chair tipped over and he went sprawling on the floor.
But once it was over, even Susan seemed more inclined to believe Michael was who he claimed he was.
The train ride back to Hogwarts was largely uneventful except for the worried muttering Michael caught from a compartment where Hermione Granger was sitting by herself, with no sign of her friends.
Malfoy shoved his way into their compartment near the end of the ride, complaining about Weasley's father and the way Potter had been fawned over by Gilderoy Lockhart – who was going to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
"And he isn't even on the train!" Malfoy sniffed, ignoring the goggling stares from the others as he addressed Michael.
Being a sounding board for an emotionally wrought boy had never been on Michael's list of things to do when masquerading as a human. "Maybe he has another ride?"
"Unlikely!"
Malfoy left soon after that, leaving Michael alone with the others.
There was a pointed silence for several minutes, Michael taking the opportunity to inspect the box of beans Susan had bought and eviscerate any nastily flavored ones. He still remembered his unfortunate experiences with vomit- and poop-flavored ones as a human.
"Woww," Susan said finally, drawing the word out.
"You're not telling him, are you?" Ernie asked, frowning.
Michael looked up from the box. "He's friendly enough, but no."
"That's quite a change from you saying you're not friends."
"It isn't as if he's dangerous," Michael said. "He's a child, Ernie. His beliefs are rather thoughtless, but he'll grow out of them."
"Will he?" Susan sounded dubious. "His parents are into that whole 'pure-bloods are better' nonsense, and it isn't as if most of Slytherin is any better."
Michael simply shrugged, handing the beans back to Susan for her to eye suspiciously. Malfoy hadn't exactly used any slurs while around Wayne or Michael, perhaps realizing that it wasn't a very wise decision after Ernie and Susan had jumped down his throat. And if he did so now, Michael would have no qualms about telling him off.
His Father had Created humans as equals, and while this world was one he was still largely unfamiliar with, that didn't mean it was different.
Still, while Michael was growing used to being in a human school, he suspected that it wasn't usual for two of the students to arrive via flying car. The disbelieving faces his friends made upon hearing the rumors confirmed his suspicion, as did the Howler that Weasley received not long after.
Malfoy seemed nothing but gleeful over the whole affair, especially since the two had been punished with no regard for Potter's famed status.
Personally, Michael couldn't really see how Potter's fame had gotten him anything, since the poor boy looked harried every time Lockhart so much as showed his face. He'd heard the stories about the Defense classes from Malfoy, along with numerous complaints about how much of a buffoon Lockhart was.
Even when not looking, it was difficult to miss that Lockhart had almost no magical ability to speak of. And upon closer reading of his (horribly boring) textbooks, Michael could see numerous inaccuracies that didn't match up.
"But that's ridiculous," Hannah protested when Michael mentioned it after one class. "Why would Dumbledore hire him, then?"
"Because he's funny?" Justin suggested.
"At least we didn't have any blasted pixies," Ernie grumbled. "Neville was going on about those."
Michael couldn't care less about pixies or Lockhart's questionable teaching methods. He had other issues to attend to, starting about a week after the term started again.
The first had to do with the ghosts, as the Fat Friar found him one night, looking visibly nervous. "We don't want to leave."
Michael raised his eyebrows, leaning against the edge of the window he had been looking out of. "What does this have to do with me?"
The Fat Friar glanced behind him to the forms of the other ghosts before returning his gaze to Michael. "We don't know what you are, sir, but it isn't human."
Michael's gaze moved slowly from ghost to ghost before finally returning to the Fat Friar's. "You're right," he said quietly, folding his arms. "But that is none of your concern. It isn't my job to deal with you." He smiled faintly. "You're fine. All of you."
The ghosts all stared at him for several minutes, searching him for any hint of dishonesty. When no sign showed, they slowly started leaving. The Fat Friar left last, giving Michael a nod before he faded through the ceiling.
With that, Michael went back to stargazing, thinking that was the last of any unusual happenings.
Until Sprout held him back after their second Herbology class, looking concerned. "Wayne," she started gently, "have you been settling in all right?"
"Yes," Michael answered, uncertain if this was a trick question. Then again, Sprout had been nothing but honest since he'd known her.
"You've been eating?"
"The food's very good," Michael offered hesitantly. From his human memories, he remembered it tasting good. Now it tasted like nothing but molecules, and he ate as little as possible.
Sprout still didn't look relieved. "And your parents?"
"They're fine. Professor," Michael added belatedly.
Sprout didn't seem to notice, too concerned with fussing over him for some odd reason. "You'll let me know if you need anything?"
Michael remembered Sprout's welcome speech last year, how warm and motherly she had seemed to Wayne. Even now he could sense nothing but concern and warmth, but she wasn't telling him what had her so concerned.
He hasn't grown at all over the summer. Even his hair is the same… I should have Poppy look him over.
Oh.
Managing to excuse himself from the conversation with the promise that he'd tell Sprout if he needed anything, Michael knew he would have to start aging this body. He hadn't even realized that children this age grew. All his previous vessels had been adults, and he'd never been concerned with keeping up the messy bodily functions of aging.
So he had no idea how to even go about changing this body at a human rate.
Which led to him studying the bodily processes of the children around him.
"Mate…" Justin noticed him doing so only two days into the project and sounded wary. "Is there some reason that you're staring at us as if we're bugs under a microscope?"
"That sounds concerning," Ernie said, looking just as wary as Justin sounded.
"I'm looking at your hormones," Michael answered. He'd already discovered that the girls' hormones differed from the boys', and he'd changed his focus accordingly, not wanting to develop breasts or deal with menstruation.
Then again, he'd first have to grow a uterus for that to work. Which was too much effort and Michael couldn't be bothered to mess with a perfectly fine vessel that simply needed to age for about ten years.
"Is there any reason you're not looking at ours?" Susan asked.
"You're not the right sex." Michael watched with interest as a certain hormone humans called cortisol spiked briefly in Ernie and Justin.
"But what are you doing?" Justin demanded, subtly leaning back.
Michael blinked, refocusing his vision to human levels. "Sprout is worried because I'm not growing, so I'm seeing what I need to do for that to happen."
They studied him for several minutes, eyes thoughtful.
"It's true," Hannah said finally. "You're smaller than us now."
Which meant Michael needed to accelerate his growth to catch up.
"Are you saying you don't grow old?" Susan asked curiously.
"This is simply a vessel," Michael explained. "There isn't usually a need to physically alter a vessel outside of healing wounds, although it can be done."
"So you grow old, but we can't see it."
Technically speaking, angels didn't grow old the way humans did, but humans couldn't even begin to understand the aging process for angels. So Michael just nodded and returned to studiously watching the hormone processes of the boys for the next several days before kick-starting his own and accelerating it to make up for the lost time.
Sprout continued to watch him worriedly for several weeks afterwards, but once she saw that he was growing and aging like a normal boy, she left him alone.
But once that issue of his growing was attended to, another one cropped up at the end of October, during Halloween.
Halloween wasn't exactly a date that held great significance for Michael. It was certainly true that it was easier for the supernatural world to interact with humans during this day, but it wasn't something that concerned Michael. Hogwarts was filled with peaceful ghosts and other creatures that didn't bear anyone ill will (Peeves was another issue, but one who had left Michael alone after a glare).
But while Michael didn't put any important significance on the date, mortals did. A troll had entered the school last year, only to be defeated by Potter and Weasley. And this year seemed to be entirely uneventful until Michael heard faint whisperings.
Rip…kill…
Tuning out the noise of the Hall, Michael focused on the voice he had heard. It spoke again, and this time Michael recognized it as a snake, albeit an unusually bloodthirsty one.
"Hey, Wayne, you good?" Justin's voice broke him out of his focus.
Pulling his attention away from the snake roaming inside the walls of Hogwarts, Michael gave him an easy nod and smile before selecting an inoffensive bowl of pudding to be eaten.
It wasn't until they heard that Mrs. Norris had been petrified that Michael realized that the snake had been anything but an unusually bloodthirsty snake. It was a magical bloodthirsty snake, and one that no one was familiar with.
"Lockhart says he can take care of it," Hannah said later in their Common Room.
"It could be a Cornish pixie," Ernie joked. "A large one. Then we're sunk."
"It wasn't a pixie," Michael said.
"It wasn't?" Ernie looked rather crestfallen that his theory was wrong.
"Did you see something?" Susan demanded.
"No." Michael made sure no one else was listening before continuing. "I heard it. It's a snake."
The others were silent for a few minutes, assimilating the information.
"But don't cats eat snakes?" Hannah asked.
"Smaller ones," Michael said. "This didn't sound like a small snake."
"Do you know what kind of snake it was?" Justin asked.
"One that petrifies animals," Michael answered, unwilling to reveal his ignorance but unable to give them any other answer.
Susan's eyebrows were raised. "So you don't know."
"I'm sure it's easy enough to find out," Justin said before Michael could. "It'll just mean spending some time in the library."
Michael didn't point out that Hogwarts's library wasn't limitless and there was a chance it wouldn't have the answer.
Susan lowered her voice to ask pointedly, "But couldn't you find the snake?"
"And do what?" Michael's voice was calm. "It hasn't killed anyone. The cat's still alive, and it'll be fine once they find the cure."
"But you could heal her."
"And leave no explanation for how a petrified cat is suddenly unpetrified?" And truth be told, he didn't really want to. It was still a new feeling, and it was one he didn't mind indulging.
"They'd come up with something," Justin said, though he didn't sound entirely convinced of this.
"It's unnecessary," Michael said dismissively.
"Are you going to do anything about the snake, then?" Susan asked.
"No." Michael met Susan's eyes. "It isn't my job, Susan."
Susan exhaled heavily, scowling. "But what if something happens? Something other than Mrs. Norris being petrified? Are you still going to say it's not your job, Michael? I looked you up, you know. Muggles have a lot of ideas about what you're supposed to do."
"And they're all mostly wrong," Michael said, unflinching as a group of bawdy fifth years yelled indistinguishably. "But if something else happens, then I'll take care of it."
He didn't think it very likely, but it was always possible. At any rate, there was no need to seek out a snake because of one incident.
Several days after the petrification of Mrs. Norris and the bloody writing on the wall that Filch had tried and failed to remove, the full history of the Chamber of Secrets was flying through Hogwarts, thanks to one Professor Binns. Ernie managed to get his hands on a copy of Hogwarts: A History to corroborate the ghost's story before they were all checked out.
A secret chamber wasn't even the most outlandish thing Michael had ever heard of. No, that fell to the myriad of creatures that Father had allowed Gabriel to design at the beginning.
He still didn't understand just why Gabriel had seen fit to put together a platypus and make it a mammal capable of laying eggs.
"But, honestly," Susan huffed after reading the book. "A secret chamber that no one has found? I mean, it would be amazing, but it's still really unlikely."
"It's only secret if no one's found it," Hannah pointed out, flipping through the pages.
"It's not much of a secret if everyone knows about it, is it?"
"Technically, it's only called the Chamber of Secrets, not the Secret Chamber," Ernie said.
"But is that where the snake's hidden?" Susan asked, glancing at Michael as if expecting him to have the answer.
Michael took a moment to answer, checking for the snake's presence that he could feel on the grounds. "When it's sleeping."
"Oh, when it's sleeping." Susan sounded dismayed. "That…doesn't make me feel better at all."
"…Sorry?" Michael eventually offered, unsure of whether this was the right response.
"That looked like it hurt for you to say," Susan said unsympathetically. "Ugh, never mind. This is all rubbish."
"I don't know." Ernie peered at the book over Hannah's shoulder. "This is really interesting. I should've checked out this book earlier. Granger knows her stuff."
"We have it now," Hannah said, "so why not finish reading it before giving it back?"
"And piss off the rest of the school?" Ernie pretended to consider it for all of five seconds before nodding and pulling the book over so it was between them. "Let's do it."
Justin hung over Ernie's shoulders, and following a moment's hesitation, Susan followed suit, coming to Hannah's other side.
Michael took one look at the little group he was now beginning to honestly call friends and only briefly wondered why before pulling out the stack of homework he had to finish and staring it into submission.
This was one of those times that he wished he didn't have to pretend to be human.
Even while he'd been regular Wayne Hopkins, he'd never been that fanatic about Quidditch. Still, it was a school thing, and it was one that his friends went to. So Michael went as well, if only to see which team would come out the better between Gryffindor and Slytherin.
Malfoy was Seeker this year, even if he'd bribed his way onto the team. Strangely enough, Malfoy hadn't told Michael he would be doing so. The next time they saw each other, Michael fixed Malfoy with his best disappointed look (courtesy of Ernie and Justin asking him to do so) and Malfoy stalked off and didn't bother them for several days before mysteriously reappearing with a box of what Hannah called "apology sweets."
Now Potter and Malfoy were playing against each other, and while Malfoy was still on friendly terms with Michael, Michael wasn't biased enough to say that Malfoy was the better flyer of the two.
And then there was the Bludger.
Michael took only a moment to sense that it was carrying a different magic from the other balls in use. The crowd realized the same thing after the third time it went after Potter, but no one could do anything.
"That Bludger's gone crazy," Ernie said, slightly stunned.
Michael didn't respond, focusing on tuning down his senses so he couldn't feel the acrid fear and shock the crowd was giving off. It wasn't—
"No, no, no, Lucifer, please—"
With a sharp inhale, Michael snapped out of it, fingers clenching tightly on the wooden railing with a hollow crunch. The Bludger exploded a split-second later, and the fear gave way to stunned shock and disbelief, which was infinitely better than what had been radiating through them before.
"Bloody hell," Justin breathed, shocked. "Was that you?"
Giving him a wan smile, Michael released the broken railing, flexed his fingers once to let the splinters fall out and the cuts heal, and then put his hand into his robes.
Missing one tampered Bludger, the game was halted until another one could be procured.
Once the game resumed, Potter caught the Snitch within ten minutes. This time, when the crowd cheered for Gryffindor's win over Slytherin, Michael let the cheerful energy course through him, chasing out the last of the cold.
"Why did you drag me here?" Michael asked, pained. "I thought we agreed that he was a buffoon who can't teach."
"I don't remember ever agreeing to that," Ernie answered, frowning.
"It was on your face in our last class."
"I thought that was mortal terror for having to read one of those books."
"Enough," Hannah hissed, digging her elbow into Ernie's side.
"We can watch him make a fool of himself," Justin suggested.
They ended up standing next to Potter's group, and Justin took the opportunity to formally introduce himself, shaking Potter's hand rather eagerly. "My name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart's books I think she's begun to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family…"
Michael resisted the urge to point out that all of Lockhart's books were pure garbage in favor of paying attention to Lockhart entering.
Watching him strut his way across the Great Hall, Michael had to admit that Justin had a point. Ten minutes later, that point was proven when Snape eviscerated him and Lockhart attempted to save face by having everyone present split up to also try the Disarming Charm.
Michael ended up with Hannah, and he didn't bother trying anything, letting his wand fly over to her after she cast the spell. The stick was nigh useless now, even if his vessel had magic in its genes. The first time he'd tried casting a spell with the thing, it almost exploded. Michael hadn't done so since, only taking it out as a cover in classes.
"You're supposed to try this, too," Hannah said, peeved.
Taking his wand back, Michael side-stepped an errant burst of magic from the students behind him before waving the stick and snatching Hannah's wand.
Five seconds later, Lockhart called everything to a halt and pulled Potter to the front for a demonstration. Snape volunteered Malfoy after dismissing a rather relieved looking Longbottom, and Michael found himself pushed more to the front by his eager friends. Malfoy's eyes caught his briefly before the other looked away, attention on Potter.
"This isn't going to be good," Susan whispered, nudging Michael slightly.
Michael grunted noncommittally, not sure what she wanted him to say. They were both twelve; it wasn't like they'd be killing each other in front of the entire school, no matter how much immature anger was coming off of Potter and Malfoy.
Two minutes later, Michael found himself reevaluating this when Malfoy summoned a poisonous snake that was absolutely pissed at having been pulled away from its sleep.
Everyone froze, stunned, at the sight of the snake shaking itself off. Potter didn't seem to be breathing, looking at the snake with wide eyes.
After a brief period of consideration, the snake turned towards Michael, slithering its way across the floor until it was almost at Justin's feet.
Potter snapped into action just before Michael pushed Justin back, demanding angrily, "Leave him alone!"
The hush that fell over the students wasn't because the snake pulled away from Justin. It was because Potter had spoken in the snake's language.
Michael hadn't even known that was possible for humans, since they lacked the appropriate vocal chords to properly speak like snakes. It had something to do with magic, Michael could sense that much.
No one seemed surprised at the sound of a human speaking like a snake. Instead…they were more frightened that Potter could speak like a snake.
Which didn't really make sense, and Michael didn't understand until later when Ernie was ranting about Potter possibly being the heir of Slytherin and controlling that bloody snake.
"What do you mean?" Michael asked, cutting Ernie off in the middle of his rant.
"What do you mean what do I mean?" Ernie stared at him in disbelief. "You saw it, too! He ordered that snake to attack Justin!"
"He told it to leave Justin alone," Michael said, wondering at Ernie's eyesight. The snake had stopped moving after Potter's order, so he didn't understand why Ernie thought Potter had ordered it to attack. "Why would that make him the heir?"
"Didn't you see him?" Ernie hissed, snatching hold of Michael's arm to draw him to a halt in the middle of the hallway. "He spoke Parseltongue! He can speak to snakes!"
"So can I."
"Yes, but you're not human," Ernie said, shrugging. "So you don't count."
"It's just a language." Michael tried not to sound bewildered. "Why was everyone so frightened?" Had they also sensed the presence Michael had? The one clinging to the boy like a shadow?
"It's Parseltongue, Michael," Susan said, voice quiet. "The last wizard to speak Parseltongue was Salazar Slytherin, and he was Dark."
And as humans said, two plus two equaled four. Or in this case, five.
"That doesn't mean anything," Michael said, his friends' anxiety and frustration bouncing off him. He reminded himself they were still just children, frightened ones at that. "It's a language; languages aren't evil. It's the people who speak them that are dangerous."
"But it's the heir of Slytherin that can open the Chamber," Ernie insisted. "And only an heir could speak Parseltongue."
"He really told it to stop?" Justin asked, subdued. He was still pale.
Michael nodded once, the motion stilted. Then, looking back at Ernie, he said, "Maybe that's true, but it's not him. I can tell you that, so don't go threatening him for stopping a snake from attacking Justin."
"I wasn't!"
"You were thinking it." Michael's lips twitched slightly. "I'm sure Potter has enough to worry about if the entire school is thinking what you are."
This ended up being entirely too true, as Michael caught glimpses of Potter scurrying away from Lockhart stalking him through the halls and the Weasley twins heralding Potter as the heir and leading him through the school in the most obnoxious manner possible. Amidst it all were the rumors about Potter being the heir and Potter having it out for everyone who wasn't pure.
Malfoy thought it was all codswallop, but he never actually said so out loud.
"You seem really convinced that it isn't him," Susan said during one study session. "Why?"
"Because he's jealous," Zacharias muttered under his breath, seeming bored with everything.
Not for the first time, Michael wondered why he even continued to sit in on their study sessions. It wasn't as if Michael was sleeping through Binns's lessons anymore, and his notes were a great deal more detailed than Zacharias's friend's.
"It's Potter," Malfoy said simply, though that didn't really answer the question. "He's friends with Granger and Weasley."
Michael studied Malfoy's fidgeting hands for a moment before saying, "You know something else."
Malfoy made a face at Michael, who simply raised his eyebrows in response. It was another few minutes of fidgeting, some sighing, and faces, before Malfoy said disgustedly, "Fine. I asked my father about it."
Michael's friends said nothing, though he could sense that they were listening; even Zacharias was paying attention now. "Did he say something?"
Voice dropping, Malfoy drew in closer to say, "It was opened fifty years ago, and someone died."
Michael raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Who?"
"He didn't tell me." Malfoy sounded disgruntled. "But they were going to shut the school down until they arrested someone. He didn't tell me who it was either."
"So…we have a new heir?"
"Or the heir returned."
It was a minute before Justin snorted, followed by Ernie putting his head on his book, shoulders shaking. Susan and Hannah didn't seem to know whether to smack them or join in, and even Zacharias had covered his mouth to hide a smirk. Crabbe and Goyle didn't seem to understand the joke.
Malfoy stared at them. "What?"
Sighing, Michael pinched his nose. "The only new person here is Lockhart. Are you suggesting he's the heir?"
It took all of five seconds before sheer incredulity crossed Malfoy's face. "Are you daft? That idiot? He couldn't find his way out of a paper bag, let alone a secret chamber!"
"He's not that bad," Hannah protested.
"Please, Abbott, he couldn't even defend himself against a simple Disarming Charm." Malfoy's lips curled. "I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking when he hired that buffoon, but he's even more inept than Quirrell."
There was literally nothing his friends could say to that, since it was completely true. Stifling an inappropriate smile, Michael ducked his head, returning his attention to the homework they had compiled on the table.
"Did Snape ask for a foot?" Michael asked, changing the subject. "Or was that McGonagall?"
His friends gave him knowing looks, but Malfoy seemed happy enough to start explaining the newest Potions assignment they had.
Aside from Potter outing himself as a Parseltongue in front of the school, nothing else happened for the next two weeks. December was rapidly approaching, and the weather in Scotland reflected the change in months by dumping a mountain of snow on the grounds.
After a few miserable days of trudging through the snow, Herbology was finally cancelled, allowing the students to remain inside.
Michael remained near the fireplace on the coldest days, letting the warmth sink into his skin. It wasn't as if it was as cold as…there…but it was cold enough for humans.
His friends didn't really mind the cold, going out to play in the snow and throw snowballs at each other or flee from enchanted snowmen that the seventh years charmed to attack the younger students.
After the first time Michael had been dragged out, beaten a snowman to death by accident, and then knocked a seventh year out by throwing a snowball too hard, everyone had mutually agreed that he could stay indoors and enjoy the warmth.
This wasn't a problem.
Until it was.
Justin had been petrified.
It wasn't anyone's fault. He had just gone off somewhere, and the next thing anyone knew was Peeves screaming that Potter had attacked another student and a ghost.
It was anyone's fault…but Michael's.
It was impossible to miss hearing a snake moving through the walls of Hogwarts, but he'd dismissed it. And now…
"Wayne?" Ernie sounded strained, face pinched.
Michael couldn't offer any platitudes, something akin to fury pounding in him. He'd said he would protect Justin, would listen to him, and he hadn't.
"I'll be back soon," Michael murmured, turning on his heel and leaving the Hospital Wing, leaving behind Justin and Nicholas.
He found himself at the spot where Potter had found them, eyes closed and focusing on the energies he could feel.
There was…the snake.
Michael moved to the chamber that had the entire school in an uproar. It was dank and cold, the stench of rot, mildew, and death clinging to every inch of the place.
Opening his eyes, Michael moved in a slow circle, taking in every aspect of the hall that was the Chamber of Secrets Slytherin had built. At the end was a giant portrait of a bearded man carved out of stone.
Steps slow and careful, Michael approached it. Once he was close enough, he reached a hand out to touch the smooth stone of the mouth. There was an enchantment sealing it, and he broke it without a second's thought, pulling the mouth open with a forceful tug.
Then, stepping back, he waited for the snake to emerge.
It wasn't long before the reptile emerged, simultaneously beautiful and terrifying. The moment Michael saw its piercing yellow eyes, the magic clinging to every scale, and the poison dripping from its fangs, he knew what Slytherin had bred.
Basilisk.
"Aren't you something else," Michael murmured, walking around the basilisk. He couldn't help but feel amused at the bewilderment the snake felt at the sight of someone not dropping dead from its gaze.
The basilisk hissed at him, demanding to know his identity.
Michael smirked, turning to face the basilisk head on. "Not your heir, basilisk." He snapped out a hand when the basilisk reared to strike him, skin meeting scales with a forceful collision as the basilisk came to a screeching halt. "You may call me Michael."
Hand twisting, Michael incinerated the basilisk from the inside out.
Seconds later, all that remained of the creature of the Chamber was a pile of ashes. Letting his hand drop, Michael exhaled slowly, fingers curling into his palm.
The basilisk was dead, but the person responsible for releasing it was still wandering freely.
And…
Michael crouched, picking up a strand of red hair.
It was long, and clinging to it was the same energy Michael had sensed surrounding Potter, but more…aware.
Clenching the hair strand in his palm, Michael inhaled, letting his eyes fall shut as he traveled backwards, skimming over the near past to see…
A red-haired girl, eyes blank, releasing the basilisk and setting it loose into the school.
Fiery red hair.
A Weasley.
Michael didn't hesitate before seeking her soul out, landing in the middle of a bathroom. A second later, a ghost shrieked.
His fingers twitched, the ghost fell abruptly silent, and the girl standing before one of the sinks stiffened, eyes going to Michael.
It was…
Vile.
Not the girl's soul, but the one currently possessing her. It was broken, torn, shattered, and marred in a way no soul should be.
Michael moved forwards, hand coming out to grip the girl's outstretched wrist tightly, pressing a nerve that caused her fingers to slacken and let the wand fall to the floor. He reached into her robes with his other hand, pulling out a beaten-up diary before the mangled spirit possessing her could react.
It was part of the soul Michael had sensed in the castle earlier after Potter had faced the one wizards feared to call Voldemort, and it was inside the diary.
As was part of the girl's soul.
"This is you, isn't it?" Michael asked softly, not letting the spirit go. "The one known as Voldemort."
The girl's lips twisted. "And you are?"
"You may call me Michael." Michael opened the book, the spine fitting easily into his hand. The pages were blank, but he could see the words the girl had written into its pages, ink being absorbed and the magic feeding the spirit that was housed in its confines. The spirit had responded to her words, creating a parasitic loop that had resulted in this possession.
"Is that supposed to frighten me?"
"Perhaps not." Michael snapped the book shut, feeding Grace into it.
The spirit flinched back, and this time Michael let him pull away. Cracks were appearing in its visage, though the only outward sign was the girl's eyes glowing. "What are you doing?" It sounded frightened.
Michael didn't answer, letting the book drop to his side. Reaching forward before the spirit could pull away, he sank his hand into the girl's chest, grabbing hold of the spirit.
There was a scream, a spurt of water from the faucets and toilets as the ghost fled from the sight, and the girl's back arched.
With a wrench, Michael pulled the spirit out, the girl collapsing into a heap at his feet. The spirit writhed briefly in his hands, and Michael had to restrain the urge to just – throw it away. The feel of an incomplete, torn apart soul was anathema to everything Michael had ever known, and it was…wrong.
Curling his fingers into a ball, Michael smote it, the book burning in his other hand as a faint scream emitted from it.
Once the spirit was gone, Michael let the book drop to the wet floor, crouching to check the girl. Her skin was pale and clammy, but rapidly regaining color and warmth as Michael touched her cheek. Her soul was still bright and clear, the opposite of the vile thing that had been possessing her.
Michael drew his fingers over her face before lingering in the red strands of her hair. It wasn't until his fingers left her entirely that she woke, inhaling sharply and eyes flying open in fright. They met Michael's instantly. For a breathless instant, she just looked at him.
Then she was scrambling, trying to get away from him.
Michael didn't move, but he watched as she moved away, pressing her back to the sinks in the center of the room.
"Who—" she gasped, eyes skittering around the bathroom. "What happened?"
In lieu of a verbal answer, Michael held up the burnt book, letting her look at it.
"Did you—?" The girl blinked, hand coming up to her chest where Michael had his hand to grab hold of the spirit. "What happened?"
Michael considered what he could say. He could just erase her memories, forgo any and all explanations he had to give for what had happened.
But the girl had been violated enough already, and she deserved an explanation for what had happened.
"There was a spirit in the book," Michael said finally, letting the book drop. "It possessed you."
"It…" The girl inhaled a ragged breath, hand coming up to her mouth. "Tom," she breathed, the sound just on the cusp of Michael's human hearing.
The gold lettering on the back of the book caught Michael's eyes, the letters spelling out T.M. Riddle. "Was that his name?" he asked quietly. "Tom?"
"That's what he told me," the girl breathed, horror and shock radiating from her. "I… Was anyone hurt?"
"They'll be fine," Michael reassured her.
"But I…" The girl shrunk in on herself, knees curling into her chest. "He was in my head," she whispered, hands coming up to her fist her hair. "I can…I can still hear him."
"He isn't anymore," Michael said, keeping his voice calm. It had been a long time since he'd last had to speak to a human like this, and he'd never had to speak to one as young as this. But he could recall how his human parents had spoken to him when he had been frightened from a nightmare and hoped he was mimicking their tones.
"You…" The girl squinted slightly at him, her knees slowly straightening. "You called yourself Michael."
Michael tilted his head. "You remember that?"
"I wasn't…" The girl swallowed. "He was so scared."
Michael glanced at the burnt book, vicious satisfaction curling through him. He breathed, trying to push it away. "Good."
"What kind of magic was that?"
Michael leaned back slightly, his weight resettling on his heels. "It wasn't." Standing in one fluid motion with the book in hand, Michael closed his hand over it, swallowing it into an isolated pocket.
The girl's eyes widened at the sight. "And that?"
"Also not magic," Michael said, unable to resist a smile at her fascination. There was no fear now.
"Then?" The girl looked up at him, brown eyes wide.
"It's Grace." Michael stretched his hand out for her to take hold of. "My own."
The girl didn't take it, hands curling into fists on her knees. "And…that destroyed him? He's not coming back? He said he was my friend." Her breath hitched. "He listened to me. I wasn't just…a little girl."
She was little, and while her soul was older than her body, she was still so young. But even the youngest soul was important.
"Everyone has something to say, no matter how young they are," Michael said softly, unflinching as she met his eyes.
"You're not much older than me," the girl pointed out.
Michael didn't answer, still holding his hand out patiently.
"Do you…" She swallowed. "He's not coming back, is he?"
"I can't promise that," Michael said, since that spirit had only been a portion of the whole. It wasn't broken – no one could break a soul – but it definitely wasn't a complete soul either. Michael had no explanation for how that was possible. "But I can promise you this…Ginevra Weasley. He won't hurt you again."
Her hand touched his, and he pulled her to her feet. "It's Ginny, Michael."
Michael smiled at her, letting go of her hand. "It's Wayne."
Biting her lip, Ginny's eyes dropped to her feet briefly before flickering back to his. Then, without warning, she threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder, body shaking.
Taken aback, it took Michael a minute to respond by wrapping his own arms gingerly around her body, rubbing her back hesitantly. He had no idea what to say, so he said nothing.
Even when she gasped out a broken "thank you," Michael remained silent.
If Justin hadn't been petrified…he would have done nothing.
The knowledge sat heavily in his stomach.
Once Michael was certain that Ginny was all right and she had made her way back to the Common Room without any issues, he went to look up the antidote for petrification. Upon finding out it involved mandrakes and there wouldn't be any mandrakes ready for months, Michael went and collected some, brewing the potion and then leaving it in the Hospital Wing for Pomfrey to use.
Once he was back in the Common Room, his friends swarmed him immediately.
"Where were you?" Ernie demanded, dragging Michael over to a relatively isolated corner. "Justin's been petrified and you just went off!"
Michael stared pointedly at the hand Ernie had on him until he took it off. Then, voice even, he explained. "The basilisk's been taken care of; the heir won't be a problem."
Their eyes went wide, Hannah clutching Susan tightly.
"A basilisk?" Susan squeaked.
Michael inclined his head in answer. "It's dead."
"And the heir?" Ernie asked.
"Also taken care of." Michael took a slow breath, pressing his fingers into the walls of Hogwarts. "It won't be long before they're unpetrified; I've given them the antidote."
"What happened to your policy of 'it'll work itself out'?" Susan asked acerbically.
Michael's eyes flicked to her before returning to the wall. He tapped it briefly, feeling the magic embedded in the stones. "It did," he said eventually.
And he said nothing more.
It was a few days later, when Justin had been cured and things were relatively back to normal, that Ginny approached them in the library, looking nervous but determined.
"Hi…" Ginny glanced at his friends before turning to Michael. "Do you…" She looked down at the table. "Can I sit with you?"
Not looking at his stymied friends, Michael cleared the seat next to him. "Of course."
Smiling shyly, Ginny sat down, her bag thumping gently onto the floor next to the chair. "Thanks." She looked up at his friends again. "I'm Ginny."
It took a moment, but then his friends were introducing themselves.
"How do you know Wayne?" Ernie asked once they were done.
"He…" Ginny glanced at him.
"They know," Michael told her quietly.
Nodding, Ginny looked back at them. "He saved me." The words were even.
Susan glanced between her and Michael. "Did he?"
"There was a spirit," Michael said before Ginny had to. "I took care of it."
Ginny smiled tremulously, hands going to fiddle with one of the books lying on the table.
"Everything's good now?" Hannah asked, smile warm. "You're a first year, right?"
Ginny nodded. "I am."
Hannah leaned forwards, smile widening. "How are you liking it?"
With an inaudible sigh of relief, Ginny started talking, going on about what she liked about Hogwarts and how amazing the school and classes were.
Ernie and Susan were still looking at Michael, but he ignored them, eyes on Ginny as she gestured wildly, eyes bright for the first time since Michael had met her.
This…had been the right thing to do.
About two weeks later, Michael was interrupted from his brutal dissection of a history book by a nervous voice. "Er…are you Wayne?"
Michael looked up, surprised to see Longbottom standing directly below where he was sitting on a window seat. "Yes?"
"Right, er…" Longbottom shifted anxiously. "I'm Neville, Ginny's friend."
Michael didn't say anything to that, waiting for him to get to the point.
After an awkward silence, Longbottom did. "She told me what you did – that you helped her out. I wanted to say…thank you." He looked down at his feet, the top of his head the only thing Michael could see now.
"You noticed something was wrong?" Michael closed the book, bending over it, heels tapping against the wall.
Longbottom tilted his head back, meeting Michael's eyes. "She told me…after. I didn't notice anything." He sounded bitter about this.
"It wasn't your fault," Michael said quietly. "No one else noticed."
Longbottom considered this for a moment before nodding, a wavering smile crossing his face. "Thanks, Wayne."
Smiling back, Michael nodded in response, resettling against the window. He heard Longbottom walk away as he returned his attention to the book.
It wasn't something Michael was used to, but being thanked… It was nice.
When it came time to signing up for three more classes, Michael selected Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes without thinking of it.
Justin and Ernie instantly told him he should sign up for Divination as it would be an easy class.
"I have no need for fortune-telling," Michael said dismissively. "Discerning the future isn't as easy as you would make it out to be."
"That means it should be easy for you, shouldn't it?" Justin protested.
Michael gave him a look. "It is highly likely that I would actually fall asleep."
"What about the whole prophetic nature of divining the future?" Ernie asked.
"Prophecies are what you make of them," Michael said. "They…don't have to be true."
He regretted what it had cost him to learn that lesson every single day.
The rest of second year passed by without incident except for the point where Potter and his friends had the unfortunate luck of stumbling across Lockhart's nasty secret. No one really knew what happened after that, but it was undeniably clear that Lockhart had been on the wrong end of a Memory Charm and they were down another Defense teacher.
Naturally, no one was upset by this except for Lockhart's most stalwart fans. The only issue was that no one had any idea what kind of professor they would have next year.
"Maybe it'll be an old guy who can't hear," Justin suggested.
"It could be a woman who only wants to sew," Susan offered.
"Why not someone competent?" Ginny asked.
"The curse on the position has been there for so long it's really unlikely anyone will want to do it," Ernie told her. "It's probably why Lockhart was hired to begin with. He was the only sap who wanted to do it."
"Let's hope next year's sap isn't as bad," Susan said.
Michael didn't really have an opinion on the matter, but this year's classes had been rather entertaining, even if his friends would probably smack him over the head with a book if he said as much. Yet for the sake of his friends' education, he did hope next year's professor would be more educated on actual defense, not showboating.
When Ginny joined them in their train carriage on the ride back from Hogwarts, she was accompanied by Longbottom and a girl with dirty blonde hair and wide silvery eyes.
"D'you mind if my friends join you?" Ginny asked Michael, head tilting back to the newcomers.
Michael shook his head, gesturing briefly to the benches. His friends scooted closer, Susan and Hannah making room for Ginny and the other girl. Ernie and Justin moved closer to Michael to free space for Longbottom, and Michael moved Dane into his lap, who made only a mildly disgruntled noise.
"This is Neville," Ginny said gesturing to Longbottom – Neville now, Michael supposed. "And Luna."
"You're Ravenclaw?" Hannah asked Luna.
"I am," Luna said, voice light and rather absentminded. Her eyes were on Michael, soul shining brightly behind them. "And you're Hufflepuff."
"All we're missing is a Slytherin," Justin said offhandedly.
"Please don't invite Malfoy," Ernie said. "We don't have room."
Neville coughed, eyebrows scrunching.
"Is that the only excuse you have?" Ginny asked. "That you don't have room?"
"He's friends with Wayne," Ernie told Ginny, longsuffering. "Has been since first year."
Neville turned to Michael, eyes wide. "You're friends with Malfoy?"
"Acquaintances," Michael corrected.
"Friends," his friends disagreed.
"Malfoy listens to you," Justin said to Michael. "It's really weird."
Michael almost refuted this before realizing that Justin had a point. Following a few slip-ups earlier that year, Michael had specifically told Malfoy not to use slurs around him, and after a few mishaps, Malfoy hadn't done so anymore. And everyone knew what had happened that time Malfoy had called Granger a mudblood and Weasley had tried to curse him, only for the curse to backfire.
Malfoy had found it absolutely hysterical until realizing that Michael wasn't laughing and actually looked rather angry.
Ernie and Justin had told him it looked rather like he was going to do nasty things to Malfoy. Michael had declined to comment on the matter.
"You have really pretty wings," Luna said, eyes skimming the air around Michael's vessel. "They're like fire."
Michael stiffened, eyes narrowing slightly.
"What do you mean?" Neville sounded confused, glancing between Michael and Luna. "Wings?"
"Oh, is it a secret?" Luna put a hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry."
"No, it's fine." Michael forced himself to relax, giving Luna a small smile. "What are you seeing?" It was highly unusual that a human could see even an inkling of an angel's true form when they were in their vessel. But it might have had something to do with her magic.
"You're just…bright." Luna's eyes were round. "So bright. Like…a sprite."
Michael chuckled, the sound startling his friends. "I suppose they're rather bright, aren't they? And flighty."
"Yes," Luna agreed, smiling brightly. "Are you one?"
"Oh my God," Justin mouthed, looking up at the ceiling in disbelief, only to grunt a second later when Ginny kicked him in the leg.
"That depends," Michael said to Luna. "Do you think I'm one?"
"Wayne, you're twelve," Susan said. "Stop flirting."
"Wait, this is flirting?" Ernie sounded just a bit bewildered. "I thought this was his weird way of making friends."
Luna studied Michael for a minute. "No," she decided finally. "I'll find out."
"But you're not a sprite," Neville said, confused. "You're human."
Michael didn't answer, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smile.
Neville didn't seem to understand. "What does that mean?"
"Neville, mate…" Ernie leaned in closer to him. "I've learned it's better not to ask how weird Wayne can get. Trust me."
Frowning, Neville leaned back. "…Okay."
Surrounded by the warm and happy souls of these children, Michael relaxed, hand sinking into Dane's fur.
Summer would be different this time.
So, that's COS, and POA isn't going to differ too drastically except for a few ways. This is the first major deviance Michael has made, and I'm sure Harry is going to appreciate this in some distant way once he realizes how many times he didn't have to risk his neck.
I also have no clue what is flirting, and neither does Michael, so there's nothing intended here. Susan has a twelve-year-old's grasp of flirting, so don't take her too seriously. FF doesn't allow tags, but Michael is ace/aro and an angel, so his perception of relationships is...different.
Please let me know what you thought!