Title: Qye
Author: Shades
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Fifth Year has come around for Harry Potter, one summer since the tragic events of the Triwizard Tournament. He has become quiet and withdrawn, keeping his gloomy thoughts to himself. But he will not have the time to be concerned about outside worries like Voldemort, not when he has to worry about his own problems at Hogwarts. Because with Fifth Year comes a woman, a vampire woman, DADA teacher and with her she brings out odd feelings and odd people. Indeed, Harry is in for another life-turning year at Hogwarts.
Warning: PS/SS, CoS, PoA, GoF. NO OotP! I will NEVER acknowledge that book as part of HP world! Do you hear me Rowling?!? *shakes fist* Fifth book never came out for me! There might be some similarities between the stories but I will NOT follow that thing called the fifth book! There is slash however so if that isn't your cup of tea, please leave and don't flame me. Thanks!
Disclaimer: *glares* You're going to make me say I don't own Harry Potter and all its characters? *hisses* Well, you don't either so nyah! I do, however, own all the original characters in this story and you DON'T so HA! *looks smug* And if you take em, I'll kill you! *brandishes dagger*
------- = Change of Scene
~~~~~ = Flashback
~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter Five~*~*~*~*~*~
'ATTACK ON ROBESMERIAN MALL! DARK MARK SIGNALED!'
Those were the headlines on the Daily Prophet lying next to Quidditch Through The Ages. A picture of the blackened and smashed shops found in the wizarding mall, a little ways off from London, showed exactly how destructive a small team of Death Eaters was. Especially in a crowded place, during the busiest hour of the day for the mall. The article went on to explain how many casualties were just ordinary citizens who had presumed the mall safe with all its wards and guards. It even went on to suggest that perhaps Fudge was not the man capable of protecting the wizarding world through these 'troubling times.'
'Troubling times, right,' Harry thought a bit bitterly, looking down at the newspaper. 'War is more like it.' He sighed and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. It was Saturday night and instead of working on his Transfiguration essay, as he should have been doing, he was instead staring at the latest of Voldemort's strikes. This attack was the biggest since the Diagon Alley Massacre and he couldn't help but feel a bit bitter and frustrated.
Fudge was a moron. Simple and clear. The foolish Minister continued to act as if everything was perfectly under control even though it wasn't, reassuring the tense and worried magical community that there was nothing to be afraid about. He had added a few more wards and guards, passed some curfew acts, and had given a bit more power to Dumbledore but other than that…nothing. The idiot acted as if the threat of Voldemort was nothing!
And look what had happened. Over 60 dead, some young children, others old wizards and witches. It took all these people dead for the wizarding world to realize that Fudge wasn't the wizard for the job. 'They're all like Cedric,' he thought bitterly, looking at the moving picture of the ruined wizarding mall. 'All just people who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. They're all people who died because someone was stupid…just like Cedric.'
Harry sighed and closed his eyes, slumping back in his chair. The fire blazed in the Gryffindor common room and for a few minutes, he just sat in his chair, listening the crackling and popping sounds. It was little past midnight and he was the last person in the common room, Ron and Hermione leaving just half an hour ago. They had both argued for him to go bed but he simply didn't feel tired. In the end, they had both grudgingly gone to bed after he promised to go to sleep the minute he finished his essay. Of course, he never said when he would finish it.
Harry smiled slightly, eyes still closed. Ever since they had returned from vacation, Ron and Hermione had been mothering him constantly, making sure he ate right and got a decent amount of sleep. He had often seen them share worried looks when they thought he wasn't looking and he wondered why they worried. It wasn't as if he was acting suicidal…at least, he didn't think so. True, he didn't talk as much anymore to them – or to anyone for that matter – but he didn't think that would matter. He still spent the same amount of time with them, he just…didn't talk.
He sighed and opened his eyes half way, looking at the flames licking at the logs in the fireplace. He guessed that was why they were worried. When he talked, he hardly said anything about how he was feeling. Hermione often asked him how he was and he always answered with a simple "Fine" before changing the subject. Her annoyed and frustrated looks plagued him for the rest of the day. He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, remembering the hurt in her eyes when he brushed off the questions.
'It's not like I'm doing it on purpose,' he thought a little defensively, twirling his quill in his hand. 'I just…so many things…Mione and Ron don't deserved to be burdened with all of it.' He dropped his quill and sighed. 'And there's a lot of it.'
He looked back down at his essay and let his mind wander through the last two months. September had flown by quickly and now there was only a week left until Halloween. All around the castle, decorations of live bats and floating pumpkins filled the school. Everyone eagerly awaited the Halloween feast but he doubted that anyone was even more eager than the fifth years.
Even though it was barely two months into the school year, the professors in their classes piled homework upon homework every class and the fifth years were barely managing. Harry knew he was hardly scraping by and he was slightly surprised he could keep up with Quidditch practice at the same time. Katie Bell had been elected as the new Gryffindor Captain and, although she wasn't as obsessed or demanding as Wood, she kept a tight and strenuous schedule. The exhaustion from schoolwork and Quidditch along with restless sleep…no wonder Ron and Hermione made him promise to go to bed early.
He idly drummed his fingers on the table. One good thing about the huge workload was that he hardly dreamed anymore. Of course, the exhaustion didn't stop the dark thoughts plaguing him while he was awake. Thoughts like why Voldemort had only made two major attacks since his return and where would he strike again. Thoughts like how much danger were his friends in now that the Dark Lord had come again. Thoughts like what would he do when he faced his parents' murderer again.
Of course, other kinds of thoughts sometimes pushed those thoughts away.
For instance, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Professor Opacre…despite that he had already spent two months in her presence, he still couldn't figure her out. In class, she was this semi-professional woman who taught them with an easy-going and joking manner. Since she was a vampire, she couldn't exactly teach them real magic but she spent a great of time on the theory of a spell. She spent at least two days on the theory of the spell, enough for them to grasp the concept. Then she assigned them the reading of the spell in the textbook. It seemed she hadn't been lying when she had told them that they would be using their books a lot. By the end of the week, or when she deemed them fit enough to practice, she partnered them up and spent an entire lesson watching them practice the spell.
Spells weren't all she taught them, of course. Each week she alternated with different subjects in DADA. One week it would be spells; the next curses applied to objects and making them study and analyze the curse from afar before proceeding to find the appropriate counter-curse. The week after that she had them studying a Dark creature and how to combat them. And all the while, she managed to find time in every week to teach them something new about vampires. Needless to say, Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were quickly moving from being a class to be afraid of to a class to wait anxiously for.
Harry kept an eye on her in every class, continually reminding himself that he hardly knew her and she might be an adversary. Still…he couldn't help but relaxing in her presence. Her warm manner made him loosen up his guard and he was often at ease at her, despite his attempts to not be. She seemed to have an interest in him, always making him stay a little bit after class to talk. Harry flushed a little at this. The other boys always teased about how Professor Opacre complimented his spells and how she would tousle his hair sometimes. He was always surprised – and a little confused – as to why she did this but he said nothing. Secretly, he kind of enjoyed the affectionate touches, strange as they were.
'Who would have guessed a vampire could be so friendly?' he thought amusedly to himself, tapping his index finger on his forgotten essay. 'No one, I guess…no wonder everyone was so uneasy around at first.' He chuckled quietly. 'Of course, no one would have guessed everyone here was so wary of her at first if they took a look at us now.'
In the course of two months, Opacre had turned everyone's feeling toward her in the opposite direction. The cautious, distrustful feeling that had filled the air whenever she was around at first was now an accepting, amused – in a bemused sort of way – feeling. All the students were now quite used to their joking, odd vampire professor.
'Of course,' Harry thought, his slight smile turning into a frown, 'there are some exceptions.'
Draco Malfoy. He obviously detested the fact that Professor Opacre was here, his pale gray eyes watching the blond professor all the time with a hateful light in them. In all her classes, he always made a point to drawl out a subtle insult to the blond vampire and never hesitated to try and make the other students less friendly towards the nosferatu. Opacre often cut into the remarks before they could do any lasting-damage to her and although she took points from Slytherin House and gave him detention, he continued to antagonize the vampire.
Harry let go of a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. Malfoy. Now there was another thing to think about altogether. His Slytherin rival had turned rather…strange. In almost all his classes he had been paired up with the pale boy and the result was him spending more time with the Malfoy heir than he usually would have. The Professors seemed to have this new passion for assigning projects and work in pairs and so Harry, instead of happily doing the work by his own in the friendly atmosphere of Gryffindor Tower, found himself in the stuffy library with his rival.
The first meetings had been tense, filled with insults and hardly getting any work done. However, once they saw their grades begin to fall because of their bickering, they quickly made a grudging truce between themselves to not argue while working on the duo assignments. Now, two months of homework meetings, they found themselves in an odd sort of routine. Once they met up, they quickly split up the work and silently worked by themselves, only talking when they asked one another for help. After finishing the work, they quickly and silently departed after sharing the results. Sometimes, one would finish before the other and they would have to wait until the other boy finished his work. Harry usually spent this time working on other assignments but he hadn't thought the other boy would return the polite gesture.
Therefore, he was quite surprised when the first time he lagged behind, the pale boy had merely pulled out a book and begun reading. He remembered staring at the Slytherin, his mouth hanging open, until the silver-haired boy had looked up from reading and raised an eyebrow at him. He remembered flushing and turning back to his work while the other boy had smirked and shake his head slightly before returning to his book.
That meeting had been…strange. Malfoy hadn't said one word while Harry had finished up his work and even after they had traded results, he still hadn't said anything about his lagging behind. It had stunned the green-eyed boy for quite a few days after that.
'When did Malfoy turn human?' he pondered to himself, looking into the fireplace. 'It's not the same Malfoy I hexed last June…' That Malfoy had been a cruel, sarcastic little brat who delighted in tormenting him and his friends. This Malfoy, though he still made jokes at him and kept his sarcastic remarks, was more…civil. His insults were at a bare minimum and he had stopped hounding him and his friends. Whenever they passed each other by, he said nothing unless Ron or someone said something first. And even those insults were quick, just enough to be a comeback before he strode away from them. Harry didn't even think they had a classic Potter-Malfoy fight since coming back to school.
It was…unnerving…to see this less antagonistic side of Malfoy. He acted almost indifferent towards them and Harry was surprised to feel a bit of disappointment at this lack of hostility. He actually, if he was honest with himself, kind of – not really much, of course not – missed the interaction between them.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. There were so many things to think about. Voldemort. Quidditch practice. The vampire DADA teacher. Ron and Hermione's concern for him. Malfoy's new attitude. Schoolwork.
Harry glanced back down at his half-done essay and grimaced. 'Of course,' he thought, slightly annoyed at getting off track, 'right now I have to think about this stupid essay.' He sighed and grabbed his quill. 'Why would I even want to turn hamsters into slippers?'
-------
Marylin sighed and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. The Ravenclaw seventh years' essays were spread out around her desk and she still had about half left to go. But she had to take a break or she would go mad.
'It's like a House full of nothing but Hermione Grangers,' she thought, staring at the extensive essays. 'I ask for a short five paragraph essay on how to combat Yetis and what do I get? Five feet of parchment that equal five paragraphs! All in small print and with correct form! I didn't even think it was possible…' She groaned silently and made a mental note to make a restriction with Ravenclaws concerning length.
She sighed and pushed away the essays. 'I bet Qye would have been a Ravenclaw,' she thought absently. Then she frowned. Harry was in Gryffindor. And although he was apt at spells, he was in no ways at all like his studious friend. She sighed and placed her elbows on her desk, rubbing her temples.
'They're so alike and yet so different at the same time,' she thought, staring blankly at her empty chambers. 'Sometimes, he acts so much like Qye it's uncanny. And other times…he's a completely different person. Harry is…lighter than Qye was. Less serious.' She sighed and closed her eyes. 'Maybe when Lest blocked his memories he shifted his personality?' she thought. 'Blocking memories sometimes does that and it was five years that he blocked…but still…there shouldn't have been this big a change.'
She frowned. 'Of course,' she thought irritably, 'this is all assuming that Harry is Qye. For all I know, Qye might still be with his relatives.'
She sighed and leaned back in her chair. 'Won't he be in for a surprise,' she thought humorlessly. 'One minute, you're a normal little boy. The next, you find out your best friend – and mate for life – blocked your memories without your consent.' She barked a short, mirthless laugh. 'Won't he be happy?' She heaved another sigh.
"Stupid Lest," she muttered, reopening her eyes to look at the unread essays. "Stupid, foolish, reckless little brother…" She shook her head.
She eyed the essays again before pushing them aside. She knew the Ravenclaws wouldn't be pleased to hear that they wouldn't get their essays back quickly but that's what they got for being so damn smart. She smiled slightly as she pulled out a blank sheet of parchment and dipped her quill in ink.
It had been two weeks since she had updated her brother on events going on here and she thought that she might as well send another report. 'He'll have my head if I don't,' she snorted silently. 'I don't think he was too pleased by my last letter, as un-descriptive as it was.' She placed the tip of her quill on top of the cream-colored parchment, and then paused.
She still hadn't told her brother about Harry Potter. It was two months since she had began to suspect this black-haired boy as being their Qye and yet she still hadn't said a word about him to her brother. She looked down at the parchment and sighed quietly.
As she began to give out the details of how the negotiations were going and information Dumbledore was giving, she absently wondered if she should tell Lest about this new development. If Harry was Qye, him being a wizard would assist in vampire-wizard relations. 'Of course,' she thought sarcastically, her quill flashing quickly over the parchment and writing the vampiric symbols, 'It's going to stir up a hell of fuss. A vampire's mate…a wizard.' She shook her head and sighed. 'Best not say anything yet. Harry might not be Qye and then all that trouble will be for nothing. Not to mention how Lest would feel…'
As she continued writing her report, she idly wondered what her younger brother was up to.
-------
The bell rang throughout the household of Number Four, Privet Drive. Vernon Dursley scowled, looking away from the television next to wife. His son, Dudley Dursley just continued to slurp on his ice cream while his piggy eyes were trained on the television show.
"Who would be calling at this time of night?" Petunia Dursley sniffed, her giraffe neck craning around to peer curiously down the corridor.
"Doesn't matter," Vernon growled, lurching up from the couch and stalking down the hallway towards the doorway. "They're rudding mad and I'll be giving them a piece of mind for coming to call at such a bloody hour."
He yanked open the door and snarled at the figure standing on his doorstep. The figure had a black jacket and jeans on, the hood of his dark jacket pulled up so he couldn't see the other's face. 'Some bloody hooligan,' Vernon thought disgustedly, glaring at the person in front of him who topped him by more than a few inches.
"Listen you," he began, a vein throbbing on his head. "I don't care who the hell you are!" Vernon snapped, his dark eyes flashing. "It's a damn late hour to be calling at someone's house like this and if you don't get off my doorstep this second I'll call the police on you! And if that doesn't damn well scare you, I'll have you know I have a shotgun and we'll see - "
"Still as pleasant as always, Dursley," the figure interrupted softly in a silky voice. "I hope for your sake that you've become more pleasant than before."
Vernon scowled at the figure on his doorway, irritated by the interruption. "Who the hell are you and what the hell do you want?" he snapped, already beginning to close the door.
The figure's arm shot out before the door could close anymore and, without an outward display of strength, pushed back at it. Vernon shouted as the door flung open all the way, crashing against the wall. The force against the door had sent him sprawling down the hallway and he could hear the cries of his family as they rushed out of the living room and into the hallway.
The unnamed person stepped in through the doorway and silently closed the door behind them. Vernon staggered to his feet, fear beginning to rise in him. He could hear his son whimpering behind him and felt Petunia grasp at his arm fearfully.
"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" he roared though his voice had a slight tremble to it.
The hooded figure laughed softly and stepped closer to the frightened family. Vernon tried to shield his wife and son, all the while glaring at the man. "Don't worry, Dursley," the man said lazily, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I'll be more than happy to leave and never return. That is, after I picked up something I entrusted to you some years ago. Oh, and definitely after I check to see whether or not you listened to my warning."
"What the hell are you talking about?" he bellowed, glaring at the hooded man thought backing away slightly. "What warning?! Who are you?" All the while, his dark little eyes looked wildly around the hallway for something to use a weapon. He spotted a hammer lying against the wall. Quickly, he lunged for it –
- only to be thrown against the wall with enough force to make him grunt. He heard two other thumps and cries and he opened his eyes to see Petunia and Dudley on either side of him. The crash against the wall had enough force to rattle some pictures and he heard a couple of frames fall to the floor with a crash.
He struggled against the pressure, thinking the man had pinned them against the wall with a bar or something. Then he stilled, his eyes widening and terror completely replacing his anger.
He was hanging a foot above the floor.
There was nothing in front of him.
And the man in black still had his hands in his pockets, leaning against the post of the staircase.
He could hear his son whimpering and his wife sobbing hysterically but all he could do was stare in horror at the figure. There was something terribly familiar about this situation…
"You lot haven't changed much have you?" the man asked softly, looking at them beneath his hood. "I would have thought five years might have done something but you're still these pathetic, sniveling, scum shit that you were before." Than man was silent for a moment. "Not for your sake," he continued, still using his soft voice, "But I really hope you've changed in some things."
"Who are you?" Vernon shouted, his voice trembling with fear.
The figure in black laughed quietly and lazily walked closer to them. Petunia's hysterical sobs began to grow higher in pitch and the man turned to look in annoyance in her. In an instant, her screams were cut off and her eyes bulged. Choking sounds began to issue from her.
"LEAVE HER ALONE!" Vernon snarled although his terror had increased slightly. This man…he was one of those. The freaks.
The man turned to look at him and the moonlight from the windows shown enough for Vernon to see his cruel, mocking smile.
"Fine," the man laughed. Instantly, the choking ceased and Petunia was left wheezing. Dudley was crying now, and Vernon could smell the slight smell of urine emitting from his son's side. Vernon trembled, glaring at the man though fear filled him.
"Who are you?" he snarled.
The figure stilled and the smile faded from the pale face, replaced with a thoughtful frown. "I promised him I wouldn't kill you," the man murmured, obviously to himself. Vernon paled drastically at this and he heard his son's sobbing increase while his wife's wheezes became more frightened.
The black clad man looked at him for a moment, the pale face half-shadowed. Then slowly, the pale red lips curved into a sadistic smile.
"Still…" the figure laughed softly, raising his hands to his hood. The black hood fell backwards and for a moment Vernon just stared blankly at the pale face, the dirty blond hair that surrounded it, and the dark, cold blue eyes.
Then something hit his mind, making his head snap towards the wall and creating a small burst of pain. But he didn't pay any attention to it.
Memories began to flood him. A cold voice, a cold smile, a cold threat. A boy – no, a teenager – who had held them against the walls of his bedroom. Cold blue eyes that had pinned him. Eyes that blazed with an icy fire. Dark blue eyes that stared at him whenever he raised a hand towards the boy.
The man smiled coldly.
The fangs were bared.
The Dursleys never had the chance to scream.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Author's Notes: *eyes glint evilly* Mwhahaha…you honestly didn't think I had forgotten about them, did you? *cackles and rubs hands in glee* Cliffhanger! Well…sort of…*shrugs and grins* I bet all of you are dying to know what's going to happen to them, yes? *cackles again* Well, you have to wait until next week!
Sorry if this chapter sucked. My cold seems to have come back…*eye twitches and holds up bag full of tissues* Might be allergies, even though I'm not aware of having any…hmm… Anyway, I have finals this week so I'm not too sure how next chapter is going to be cuz my mind is going to be mush after EVIL Euro History and English final on SAME DAY!! Arg!! *hisses*
(Lest) *idly flips through notes* Shouldn't you be studying?
(Shades) *flipping through all notes wildly* AHHHHH!
(Lest) *shakes head* Moron. *looks to reviewers* Ne, all of you, review so this stupid girl can feel slightly better by the end of this week. I'm the one who's gotta bloody deal with her if she's all mopey. *eye twitches*
I feel so loved. *rolls eyes* This chapter isn't beta-ed, just to let you all know. I've been having a craptascular weekend and this wouldn't be posted by the appropriate time if I did send it in. So sorry for any mistakes. Hope you liked the chapter! Til next week! *hurries to began cramming*
(Lest) *mutters* High schoolers…