L-Voldemort (L version)
Chapter 3 – L Lawliet, Wizard Extraordinaire.
The Slytherin boys made their groggy way to breakfast in the Great Hall, a wide-eyed L following in their wake. Draco kept turning to make sure he was still following them.
"Did you sleep all right?" he asked, stifling a yawn.
L replied softly, "I did not sleep. I rarely do. When I slept on the train yesterday, it was the first time in a long while and I do not expect to get a good night's sleep for a few months now."
Draco didn't make a reply to this, but looked a little shocked. He shrugged, and led the group of Slytherins to the long table, where he sat next to the Japanese wizard and helped himself to a large plate of fried food. L picked up a jar of honey and a croissant, dipped the pastry in the honey then sucked the honey off it, without eating the pastry. He ate almost the entire jar this way, ignoring bemused looks and hushed giggles from the rest of the table. When one girl dared laugh out loud at him, he shot her a look that silenced her immediately. Perhaps it was the mystery of the boy's origin, the Sorting from the night before, or just a sense of superiority that he radiated, but the rest of the near by Slytherins fell quiet too.
The owl post arrived with a loud whooshing noise. L's already wide eyes widened further as his black owl landed in front of him with a package.
"Light..." he murmured, patting the owl softly on its head. It nipped his wrist, then took the croissant into its beak and flew off again, leaving the package behind.
"Light took my breakfast," he pouted, wide-eyed, poking the parcel tentatively with his wand, which he had pulled from his pocket. He looked around at Draco, who was suppressing a laugh, as he took a letter from his own owl, along with a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.
"From my mother," he explained, in reply to L's curious expression. L felt a stab of something - jealousy, he later determined - in his lower abdomen, but turned to his own post. The package did not have a note attached, so L was reluctant to open it.
"Draco, how can I tell what's in here without opening it?" L asked, prodding the parcel again with his wand.
"Dunno," the flushed Draco replied, his pale cheeks tinted pink with the words from his doting mother, written in beautiful handwriting in black ink. L tried to sneak a look at the letter over the Malfoy boy's shoulder, but he folded it away before he could pick out a single word. He offered L a Bean, which he declined politely.
The dark-haired, hook-nosed Professor Snape was making his way down the table with timetables, and had now reached L.
"Name," he asked, in a bored voice. L's stomach tightened into a knot, with an emotion he could not decipher.
"L Lawliet," he replied.
"L? Just L?" Snape asked, meeting the boy's eyes for the first time, with curiosity.
"Yes. It is the name given to me by my carer when I was a few years younger. It stands for 'The Lost One', he said, or maybe 'The Last One', depending on how you interpret it." L's face clouded with longing for his old home, back in his own world, where magic did not exist, and there was a friendly face he'd known for more than a day. "It could be pronounced Eh-ru if you say it in Japanese."
"Right, well, L," Snape continued, putting emphasis on the last syllable, choosing to skim over the topic, "This is your timetable for this year. Ask a prefect if you get lost or can't find your classroom. The teachers will give you a bit of room to breathe for the first two weeks, that is to say, they will allow you to be late with 'I got lost' as an excuse, for two weeks only. That goes for the rest of you, too," he added, looking down his nose at the rest of the first years. "Which reminds me, Mr Lawliet, Mr Malfoy, Professor Dumbledore would like to see you both before you go to your first lesson. Professor McGonagall has been informed that you might be a bit late." Draco's eagle owl gave a soft hoot as Professor Snape gave it a soft, caressing stroke. "And," the sallow-skinned Professor concluded, "send my regards to your parents, Malfoy."
He left, to continue up the table.
Draco began to hastily write a reply to his mother, which L didn't even bother to try to read. Instead, he looked over at the staff table, where the silvery Professor Dumbledore watched the room, whilst eating a bacon sandwich. L's nose scrunched up at the thought of the taste of bacon, and he stuck his tongue in the honey jar to remove the thought from his mouth.
When Draco sent his owl away with his reply, L had just about finished the jar of honey. Most people were starting to leave to go to their first lesson of the day, so Draco led the way to the staff table, L still clutching his wand and the parcel. Professor Dumbledore greeted them with a smile, and gestured that they should go into the chamber behind the staff table.
"Wait here, Mr Malfoy, please," he said softly, allowing L to pass ahead of him into the chamber. The chamber was poorly lit, a warm glow from the fireplace dancing along the stone floor. Professor Dumbledore gestured towards a comfortable-looking armchair, and he himself sank into another. L perched on the edge of the chair, in the way that felt comfortable to him.
"How can I help you, sir?" L asked, flatly, poking his index finger of his right hand between his lips.
"I just wanted to have a brief talk to you about something most curious that caught my attention yesterday at the Sorting. The Hat took a very long time to Sort you, and it told me a peculiar tale about you later that night in my office."
"A tale? Would you be so kind as to elaborate?" L asked, leaning forward in his chair.
Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "I intended to. It told me that you are not from this world. Pray tell, Mr Lawliet, are you an alien?" His eyes twinkled with mirth. When L did not reply, he continued. "Could you tell me what you think the Sorting Hat meant by this? That you are from 'another world'?"
L paused, choosing his words carefully. He would have to trust this man with the truth, it seemed. There was no way out of it. "A few days ago, I lived in an orphanage called 'Wammy's House' which houses gifted children who lack parents. I lay in my bed, on a night like any other, and felt myself being pulled away. I blacked out. When I awoke I was in a completely different orphanage in a completely different part of the country. I have no recollection of ever visiting this orphanage but there were photos of me around the room and a letter on the bedside table addressed to me, informing me that I was a wizard and I was to attend Hogwarts. After that, I sent a letter in reply to gather more details and came here. That is all I know of the matter."
"Very well," Professor Dumbledore replied, peering over his half-moon spectacles at the blank-faced L. "Are you sure that you can remember nothing else?"
"Yes."
"Then you may go."
"Before I leave, Professor, I was wondering if you could help me out?" L held out the package to the Headmaster and explained that he'd received it with no notion of who the sender could be, so was wary. Professor Dumbledore tapped it once with his wand and told him it was safe to open.
"Do it now, though, I want to see what this is," he added, with a slight smile on his greyish face.
L pulled the box open. Inside, on some black tissue paper, lay a gold ring with a black diamond-shaped crest, and a gold necklace with a tastefully sized gold pendant, on which was set many small green gems in the shape of a serpent. L picked them up, one at a time, turning them over, watching the fierce firelight cause them to glint menacingly. Professor Dumbledore inhaled loudly.
"Well, I never ... You want to keep those very safe, Mr Lawliet. I believe those items belonged to your ancestors. You ought to wear them, and mind you don't take them off." The Professor's tone was hushed and reverent, his eyes sparkling. His expression was a mixture between fondness and sternness, a face that could only be managed by such a great man.
L slipped the ring onto the middle finger of his left hand and pulled the necklace over his head, letting it fall between skin and clothing.
"Good boy," Dumbledore smiled. "Off you trot. Have a nice first day."
Without another word, L discarded the box on the floor and left the chamber. Draco gave him a grin and entered the chamber after him. The door closed of its own accord. After five minuted, he emerged, looking stormy, threw a venomous glare over his shoulder then told L to "Come on".
When they arrived in Transfiguration, they saw that it was a double class with the Hufflepuffs. Draco scoffed under his breath and pulled L towards the two empty seats at the back.
"At the front please, Mr Malfoy," the Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall, trilled as Draco sat down. L followed him to the front of the classroom to the only other empty seats, right in front of the professor's desk. "Right, now we can begin," she continued, sternly.
She commenced to talk them through the basics of Transfiguration, with a few students from the Hufflepuff side of the room answering questions, a stony silence from the Slytherins. McGonagall was the Gryffindor head of house, and the Slytherins were ferociously rivalrous with the Gryffindors. L did not care for this competition, but he had not read any of the books yet so he kept quiet, trying to understand, with a scientific brain, how this worked.
After almost an hour, they were all given a match and told to turn it into a needle. L took out his wand - the longest in the class, and the only one made of yew wood, as far as he could tell - and tapped the match, which instantly turned pointy and took on a metallic shine. Professor McGonagall stared at L, aghast. She seemed unable to form words for a second, then called for everyone to stop for a moment.
"Mr Lawliet, am I correct in thinking you did not say the incantation?"
"Yes, Professor," L replied, shifting his weight to his toes in order to lean forward in his perching position.
"And yet your match has turned flawlessly into a needle?"
"It seems to be so."
"How?"
"I tapped my wand against the match, filling my mind with the intention to turn it into a needle, then I did not have the time to say the spell. It transformed right away."
The professor simply stared at him a moment longer. A first year, from a Muggle background, on his first try, had turned a match into a needle - rare enough, as it was - but not only that, had done so silently. In his head. Without need for verbal incantation. Her mouth opened, then closed, then she dismissed the class, bewildered.
On their way from the classroom, Draco clapped L on the back. "I don't know what the hell you just did, but you made McGonagall lose the will to speak. Must have been something really good. Or really bad."
L looked at him, slowly, worried that he'd done something wrong. Draco replied by sticking his tongue out and flashing a grin. His pale eyes sparkled with glee.
"Did you see the look on her face?" he laughed. They made their way to their second lesson: Potions. In the corridor, L twisted the black and gold ring on his finger, listening to Draco insulting a group of Gryffindors who were also on their way to the dungeons. It was causing L a headache, which in turn clouded his concentration. After all, he hadn't consumed any sugar since breakfast, and he was used to snacking constantly.
The Potter boy, with his ginger-haired friend and a girl with brown hair were amongst the group, and that was at whom Draco's sharp words were aimed. The Potter boy came back with quick quips, the red-head turned a peculiar shade of scarlet, starting with his ears, and the girl simply rolled her eyes and kept repeating, "Just ignore him. He's just jealous that he hasn't any friends."
"A lie," L interjected, suddenly. "Draco simply has a deep disliking for Potter. He has at least one friend - me. I like him and I do not dislike Gryffindors, so if you would be so kind, I'd appreciate a lack of arguments in my presence, else I'll be forced to choose sides. That will make me upset. You do not want to upset me?" The last sentence was more of a question than a statement, an accusatory tone and a blank expression making both parties fall silent. The silence remained until they entered professor Snape's dungeon. His lip curled at the sight of the students entering without speaking.
"There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class," he began, as the students sat down. Draco was sat up very straight, whereas L was hunched over in his crouching position, the toes of his shoes hanging over the edge of his stool. "Of course," the professor continued, "I don't expect many of you to excel in potions." His gaze shot over to the Gryffindors. "I'm sure many of you lack the concentration and subtlety required to make a masterpiece-" He waved his hand over the cauldron on his desk. A cloud of greenish smoke arose from it. "-of a potion." He paused - for dramatic effect, L thought - letting his eyes slowly graze over those of each student in the class. A faint smile fluttered over his lips when he looked at Draco, a different, unfathomable expression clouding his face when he met L's gaze. If he didn't know better, l could have sworn it was fear.
Professor Snape slowly walked to the blackboard. "Who can tell me the difference between aconite, monkshood and wolfsbane?"
One hand shot into the air. Potter's friend, the girl, was straining with her arm in the air, as though attempting to touch the ceiling. Snape looked across at the Slytherins, ignoring the girl. "Well?"
L answered without raising his hand. "They are common names for different species of the plant genus Aconitum, which have been used as poisons throughout history, and were also used by the ancient Chinese as a medicine for increasing the level of Yang when unbalanced."
"A Muggle's answer, but impressive nonetheless," Snape replied. "They are, indeed, the names for the Aconitus plant. Who can tell me where one might find a bezoar stone?" The Gryffindor girl's hand shot up again. Snape ignored her for a second time. "Did nobody read their textbooks?" he sighed. L flicked through his quickly, scanning the page until he found it.
"A stone found in the pit of the stomach of a goat," L read, "And to my knowledge, Muggles have long believed that such a thing exists as a cure for most poisons."
"Correct," Snape nodded, "Wizards use it for the same purpose." The Gryffindor girl looked deflated. "Finally," Snape continued, "Who can tell me what this potion is, by the smell and colour of the smoke?" He waved his hand over the cauldron again, wafting the smoke towards the students. The Gryffindor girl's hand shot up into the air right away. Yet again, Professor Snape ignored her. Potter snapped.
"Professor, I think Hermione knows," he called out, in an annoyed voice. Snape rounded on him. Draco's small mouth curled into a smile.
"Mr Potter," Snape smiled, in mock friendliness, though his smile was cold and caused L's stomach to jolt, "Our new celebrity. Tell me, was your famously talented father any good at potions when he was at school? What about your Mudblood mother? Did she pass on any of her gifts to you?" The whole class seemed to be biting back words, Snape's dangerously soft, calm tone frightening them into silence. Hermione had sucked her breath in at the word 'Mudblood', though it meant nothing to L.
Professor Snape let the agonising silence continue for a whole minute, before he resumed. "Potter, can you tell me what this potion is?" He gestured back towards the desk.
"No, sir," Potter whispered. Snape's smile curled his top lip again.
"No, sir," Professor Snape repeated, dangerously quiet. "That's right." To the rest of the class, in a normal tone that made most of them jump, he said, "This is a Wiggenweld potion. If you turn to page..."
The class continued as though nothing had happened, with Professor Snape talking them through the steps of making a Wiggenweld potion. L interjected a few times with what he deduced to be a better way to use a certain ingredient, or a better length of time to let it brew before adding the next, and so on. Rather than becoming annoyed, Professor Snape was impressed, and agreed that he, too, would have said the same things if not going directly by the textbook. At the end of the lesson, he asked to see L alone. The rest of the class poured out, Hermione almost in tears, Potter biting the inside of his cheek, Draco hanging by the door.
"You can stay, Draco," Snape nodded. When the classroom was empty, he asked L how he had come up with the solutions he had added to the lesson.
"I simply used my knowledge of science to deduce a better way to make the potion. It is quite simple, basic biology in most cases, though I expect my knowledge of the magical side of it will increase with time." He pressed the middle finger of his left to his bottom lip. Snape glanced at the ring on his finger, his eyes widening momentarily, before replying, "Very well. Make sure you raise your hand in future." He dismissed the pair of them to break.
As the walked to the common room, not very far from the dungeon, Draco grinned at L, who looked back at him for about a minute, before asking, "What?"
"Nothing," Draco replied, "Just that you're really good at this, First transfiguration, then potions. We have Flying tomorrow - don't tell me, you're going to sprout wings and out-fly the broomsticks."
L shrugged.