Beta: Julie. fjad
Inspired by Elle King and her song "Ex's and Oh's".
—
Chapter Eleven
Ex's and Oh's
The man was wearing a long, shimmering cloak with a hood, clasped in the front with a large brooch, and he held a rod that was the size of a medium-length wand, but unlike a wand, the rod wasn't pointy. The rod's tip had a round ball with a vertical outer ring around it, and the ring was constantly twirling around its axis, tempo unstable and unpredictable.
He was standing on a cloud, looking below, considering it all over again.
Harry had seen this dream only once before, however, now the difference was that he could see through the man's eyes.
Awesome!
Now that would be an adrenaline rush, Harry thought while sitting comfortably in the man's head. At least, now he knew what Voldemort must be feeling like, while sharing a body with someone. Even in a dream it was weird, but Harry didn't complain. This dream he liked if only for the special effects. If he could put this dream on tape and show in cinemas, the box office would have been his, all world records smashed and crumbled. Now that was a good business idea...
On the cloud to his left—or the man's right, to be correct—sat the same man he had seen in the desert, who was now meditating.
On the cloud to his right sat a woman with androgynous face, with short, edge-cut, blond hair and blue eyes, which were focused on the canvas before her. She was humming while drawing, and from time to time her eyes would jump to the form of his uncle before focusing on the canvas again.
Even though it was his dream, Harry couldn't see the painting, and he couldn't point his finger as to why it felt like a déjà vu, and he wasn't talking about the dream. Something in the man's uncle and aunt screamed at him in recognition, but the scream was mute, or he had gone deaf because he didn't hear the answer from his inner voices.
His wild imagination provided him with an idea, but its ridiculousness made even him cringe.
"I initiate the countdown." His host had finally said a few words.
The older man jumped up from his meditating position and started clapping excitedly.
"You old fool, why are you jumping in glee? The last time our dear nephew initiated the countdown, it lasted over a hundred years. Before he decides to do his job, you'll lose your last marbles." The blonde woman half-sneered and turned the canvas, so that both men could see it.
A large, black goat with huge horns and yellow eyes was looking at them from the picture, and to him, it looked like one of the most perfect paintings he had ever seen, and he'd seen many. Harry wished he could turn back around and watch the scene between the uncle and the aunt, but he couldn't, because the man whose head he was occupying wasn't looking at them anymore, but below him.
Asshole.
It sounded fun, and Harry regretted he couldn't see the quarrel.
"You ragged pigeon! I'll show you my horns when they'll tear through your un-beating heart!"
Hahaha...Ragged pigeon. The uncle was funny.
"Flea-bitten goat! Worthless, unholy demon!"
Not the best of comebacks, but it would do.
"Like you're better, sister."
"Don't call me your sister!"
Talk about troubled families. Those two didn't look very happy to be related, and Harry wondered, not for the first time, who their parents were. The one answer he had did not fit his criterion of rational atheist, so the question was left unanswered for the time being.
"But you are one, Gabi! We are the same, you and I!"
"Are you completely out of your mind? You're the fallen one, while I serve our Father with devotion you will never understand! And don't you dare call me Gabi!"
Well, like he had said, rational atheist.
"Pigeon."
"Goat."
"Two minutes."
Harry stopped snickering when his host said those two words and a large clock appeared before him.
A symbol that looked like a "4" was engraved into the clock, directly in the middle, and Harry bit his lip trying to remember what it meant. He had seen it somewhere in the books, but where?
"Nephew, are you serious or are you pulling our legs?" Both the older man and the woman were standing now at full height, near each other, completely serious, waiting for the man's answer.
"The balance is off and cannot be restored. So no, I am not joking." Harry turned with the man, and faced the other occupants of the clouds.
The woman—Gabi, or so the older man had called her—was staring at him with large, hopeful, blue eyes.
"You'll really do your job, nephew?" Harry was sure it wasn't often anyone heard his aunt talk in such a soft voice.
"Your favourite uncle is going to cry from joy now." The older man sobbed, while quickly going through a large, thick book that appeared out of nowhere in his hands.
"At least half is ours, so hands off!" The woman grabbed the book from the man's hands, only to find the older man hanging onto it for a dear life.
"Mine! Mine, mine, mine! All mine!" His uncle and aunt were glaring at each other, their faces centimetres away, noses almost touching, teeth bared in hatred and determination.
Whoever this guy was, he had a really fucked up family. Harry didn't know if this dream was from watching too much supernatural movies—he had slept with the lights on for a month after watching "The Ring" and he had demanded for the well in their yard to be removed permanently—or because of his endless fantasy. There was a border between sane and insane even for him, and as long as he considered himself sane, he would remain an atheist. He used to love churches on Sundays only because he was left alone in the house at the Dursleys'. With James...Well, it wasn't a shock to find out that James did not go to church.
God forbid the Dursleys take him, the freak, with them. What would people say if his demonic powers acted up because of the presence of God in the church? What would the neighbours think? Harry had known what his family thought of him since he was four. When he was three, he was trying to understand why he heard two same voices, but telling different things. It took him a year to figure it out, and until he turned four, he didn't really speak.
„Ours! Give the names here, now!" The aunt had crazy with vengeance eyes, and Harry wondered why his host didn't care what was happening around him. Talk about detached...
"Noooo."
"NOW!"
"You seem to have forgotten that when our nephew arrives, we split the harvest, at the very least. Most of the times, I get the biggest piece of this heavenly cake anyway."
"I will contact our Father!"
"Right, and say what? My big bad brother doesn't share the toys?"
"I'll show you, you unholy—
"I accept everyone while you turn away your holy face from those who need you. I am there for the people, not you!"
"Dream on, Lucy."
"Don't call me LUCY!"
"You know, had I been anyone else, you two would have driven me insane." Harry's host muttered, slowly fixating the hands of the clock two minutes before the midnight, not paying attention to anyone and anything. Just as slowly, he raised the twirling sceptre, and pointed with it towards the clock.
"But you're not someone else. You are you. I need to contact a few managers and see if we're ready to take in so many people." Aunt looked at Harry's host and at his nod, she disappeared in a swish of feathers, only to return a second later. "We're good!"
"You know why you never have issues with accommodation? You charge too high, and no one wants to come. The competition wins." The older man winked, his yellow eyes shining with glee.
"And you are ready for this amount of people?" The aunt sneered, throwing invisible dust from the light, white shirt and trousers.
"I am always ready. Unlike some, debates are not my thing. I say, they do. That's how it works back at home."
"Slave-driver."
"The one and only."
The name-calling was again just over the corner, when Harry's nameless host straightened up and clicking his tongue, he jumped down from the cloud.
"Harry!"
Someone roared into his ear, and with a scream, Harry woke up on the floor, clad in another red curtain—surprise, surprise— to see a chubby kid squirm apologetically.
"I am sorry about it, Harry, but you wouldn't wake up. You'll be late for the classes if you don't get up now. And I am Neville." The boy was talking too fast and it was too bright, so Harry closed his eyes and opening them again, he got up. One part of the curtain was hanging too low, and with a practised movement—he had been doing it everyday since meeting wizards—he casually threw the material over his shoulder, and started walking towards the bathroom.
First, he'd clean up. And then, only then, he would go to Charms and then double Potions. It was not his fault this establishment did not have any wake-up services available and all electrical devices stopped working.
Harry paused at that thought, considering the possibility his and Hogwarts' cases were similar and had the same cause. It was something worth researching when he'd finally have the time.
No one bothered to wake him up, so how was he to blame for being late? He hoped Professor Flitwick wouldn't mind.
"Thanks for waking me up." Harry said, turning over his shoulder to face Neville Longbottom, and then added, after a few seconds, "You're a good kid, Neville. Toughen up and you'll be fine."And closed the door.
xxx
He had woken up today, excited to finally be able to talk and make friends with the famous Harry Potter.
It had been such a disappointment to get sorted into Hufflepuff, and there was nothing he could do when every time he saw a Gryffindor uniform, he wanted one as well. He envied them, no matter what the hat had said.
Ron sighed, his feather lying on his desk, and looked at Harry Potter, who had wet hair and who had been previously dragged in by Professor McGonagall, five minutes after the lesson had started.
Professor Flitwick accepted a simple apology from Harry with a smile, and allowed him to take an empty seat near Ron. He couldn't have been more grateful to the small Professor, who now had dried Harry's hair with a flick of his wand.
"Hi, I'm Ron Weasley."
His voice sounded too excited even to his own ears, and Ron winced at the cold, green eyes, that seemed to look deep into his very soul.
The few seconds Harry had been silent, Ron felt his heartbeat speed up, waiting, not understanding what he had done wrong.
The eyes blinked, and Harry looked away, concentrating on Professor Flitwick.
"Hi."
Ron smiled a relieved smile, and cast a casual glance at Harry's wand. It was beautiful, and so unlike his own—not even his own, his brother's unneeded wand—and Ron wished he had a wand like that.
He wished he was Harry Potter.
Ron held his breath as Harry turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow, and for a second Ron's heart stopped at the thought that he had said it out loud, that Harry had heard his shameful wish. Shaking his head a bit, Harry looked away, concentrating on the spell, and Ron breathed out, thinking he had imagined that.
Five minutes later, his feather started to move, and thirty minutes later, it started to fly.
Ron turned with a smile on his face to look at Harry, and the smile froze at the enraged expression on the boy's face. Harry was staring at his unmoving feather, while everyone else's were in the air.
This boy near him had everything Ron wanted, and he could do nothing but feel bitter satisfaction when Potter couldn't do the spell.
The boy-who-lived to be outdone by Ronald Bilius Weasley.
Professor Flitwick was standing near them, on a levitated square platform, allowing him to look Harry in the face.
"Wingardium Leviosa. Say it while telling your magic what you want to do with the feather. Let's try again, Mister Potter."
Professor Flitwick had a very patient voice, and seemed like a great teacher. Maybe he would be great in Charms with the Professor's help? Maybe, he was born to be a Charms new guru everyone would respect? He had to be great in something, to prove himself that he wasn't just the sixth kid.
Harry seemed to shake his head, and Ron even saw him squeeze his eyes tightly for a second, before opening them, while pointing his beautiful wand at the feather.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry's voice was calm, and the feather didn't move.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Now Harry was close to screaming, but the feather didn't move even a bit.
"Mister Potter, calm down, and let's try another way." Professor Flitwick was looking at Harry with worried eyes, just like everyone in the room.
Maybe Potter was almost squib?
"God dammit, FLY!" Harry's scream still echoed in his head, but it wasn't what had his attention now. It was very cold suddenly, and Ron felt goosebumps run all over his skin. The feather was no longer on the table; it was flying high above, higher that any other feathers, moving left and right.
Professor Flitwick looked very happy, but had a concerned glint in his smart eyes, that were trained on the feather above.
Professor Flitwick congratulated Potter, and waved his wand, silently telling Harry's feather to fly down.
Two minutes later Professor Flitwick looked really annoyed, and the feather was still levitating in the air, not caring about what the Charms' Professor was trying to achieve.
The bell rang, letting them know that the Charms lesson had come to an end, and they were allowed to leave, while the small Professor was busy trying to get the feather down.
"Do you want to walk together to Potions?" Ron asked with a friendly smile, expecting Harry to be in a better mood now, after somehow making the feather fly, even if he wasn't as quick as Ron.
"I have Divination, I am not a Hufflepuff, Weasley."
Oh man, he had forgotten that they were in different houses, and only now he noticed his yellow uniform and Harry's red.
He loved red.
He wanted to be a Gryffindor. He wanted to be great. He wanted…
"Don't sit near me again if you want to live, Weasley." Potter interrupted his thoughts process, and smiled a sweet smile that did not match the icy words, moving out of the room and towards the corridor.
"But why?" He didn't really whine…
"Because you're an idiot."
WHAT?
"I am not an idiot!" Ron knew he had to keep his voice down, and regretted screaming only when a nasty face with a nasty smirk appeared from behind him.
The bleached hair said it all.
"Of course you're an idiot! You cannot be anything else, since you're a Weasel." Draco Malfoy was going to get into big trouble if he didn't control his nasty mouth.
Ron opened his mouth to tell Malfoy everything he thought about his Death Eater family, when Potter started laughing.
Malfoy seemed to be beaming with joy and satisfaction and Ron's face turned red from rage.
Potter and Malfoy were laughing at him.
"And you're a Death Eater baby! Your father should rot in Azkaban!"
"What did you say, Weasel?"
"I said—
"Mister Weasley, Mister Malfoy, Mister Potter...Shouldn't you be on your way to separate classes by now?" The kind voice had a note of steel, and Ron turned around to look at Albus Dumbledore, who was standing behind them, his blue eyes serious but not angry.
Ron swallowed his humiliation, and watched as Professor Dumbledore—the legendary Headmaster—gently took Harry by his elbow and started leading him towards the Divination tower.
"Don't tell me you're going to sit there and watch," Potter's voice had zero respect as he had addressed the Headmaster, and Ron heard only "That's exactly what I will do, my boy." With envious eyes, Ron watched Potter and Headmaster disappear behind the stairs, and still fuming with rage, he went to the dungeons, where he would have to tolerate Malfoy during their first Potions class together. He, unlike some, had no Headmaster to escort him to the next classroom. For some reason, all the schedules had been redone, and Hufflepuff was paired with Slytherin, instead of Gryffindor. He wasn't stupid, and he knew it was done by the Headmaster so that Potter and Granger wouldn't meet too soon. Since Potter was a bastard, he'd take a better look at Hermione Granger.
No one calls Ronald Weasley an idiot and gets away with it.
xxx
His mood was really bad, and the smelly room didn't help at all.
The tower was decorated by an even crazier maniac than the one who had touched the Gryffindor common room, and Harry cringed as he noticed lavender pillows on the floors.
Who was the mad one here?
Ah...No more questions, Harry thought as he saw the Professor.
He would bet his Ferrari that this woman did not inhale lavender smoke only...It shouldn't really surprise him, though. If they had a Dark Lord running around the castle in a body of a garlic-smelling idiot, if they had people like Umbridge and other weirdoes, then why not hire a junkie as well?
The Headmaster was definitely senile.
"I am Professor Trelawney, and this is Divination."
And this, over there, in the corner, is my pot with weed, and in the cupboard I have LSD and other funny things that make me see things I later teach my students. My dear God, where did he end up, what kind of school was it?
Lucius Malfoy had been right when he had said that Dumbledore would bring them to the brink of destruction.
He didn't actually know if this Professor was really high, or just crazy, because he refused to look into her head, and focused on his neighbour instead.
Emmm…
Who the fuck was Crumple-Horned Snorkack?
"I'm Luna Lovegood." The girl said out of the blue, and smiled.
And the Dursleys had taken him to the shrink...He was normal, compared to the rest of the school.
The girl gave off an aura of distinct dottiness. Perhaps it was the fact that she had stuck her wand behind her left ear for safekeeping, or that he could read her mind, and it was beyond weird. Harry blinked a few times and looked over to the back of the room, where Dumbledore was sitting comfortably on at least twenty smelly, lavender pillows. He would bet his Lamborghini that the old fool was actually comfortable in this room, unlike Harry.
"Now take your cup, and look at the leaves. Tea leaves help to open your third eye."
And if you smoke my grass, you'll be like a spider, with eight eyes. Harry knew he didn't hold in the laugh, as both the mad hag and Dumbledore were watching him closely.
"Sorry, Professor. It must be the smoke in the air." He knew he was hiccuping, and for a second, Harry's disbelieving eyes saw Dumbledore smile a smile he wanted to hide. So, the Headmaster also found the Professor funny, or he knew about the weed.
Probably puffed himself every morning and evening, otherwise Harry couldn't explain Headmaster's weird behaviour and complete lack of care about who was teaching at the school.
One Dark Lord who was supposed to be dead, one ex-Death Eater and a possible huckster, one insane politician who needed a long stay at a muggle mental asylum, and now one junkie was added to the list.
They had only McGonagall, who was normal, and maybe rest...
Fun.
"Mister Potter, what do you see in the cup?"
"I see the tea leaves?" Duh...
"And what do they tell you?" Did she really ask that?
"I am afraid my leaves are not really trained to talk, but be my guest." Harry offered his cup to the Professor, noticing Dumbledore hiding a smile again.
Definitely puffed.
The weird Professor didn't seem to mind the way Harry talked, and reached to take his cup.
She was looking into the cup with strange eyes, and then looked at Harry, her eyes wide and scared.
Hmmm…
"Let's try again, Mister Potter." No, no, no! I want to know what you have seen there, even if you're high and crazy.
Harry focused and Professor's thoughts were open before him.
'The mark of Saturn…', followed by 'It cannot be...' Harry pushed harder, going deeper into the woman's mind.
The fuck? There was a prophecy about him and Voldemort, and he didn't know? Voldemort probably also was in the dark about the full contents, as the memory was hidden even from the woman, deep in her unconsciousness.
And what about Saturn? Harry saw the symbol of the planet in the woman's mind, and he almost smacked his head as he now remembered where he had seen the sign from the dream. It was the symbol of a planet, resembling a four, and for some reason, the Professor was panicking now, her thoughts jumping chaotically.
Harry took the cup, and looked into it. Tea leaves...And some more tea leaves. He didn't see a shit.
"Please take the cup from your neighbour, and look into it." Trelawny's voice was shaky and nervous, as she glanced over at Albus Dumbledore, who wasn't chilling anymore, and looked at Harry with concern.
Harry swapped the cups with the looney blonde, and looked into it.
WOW...some more tea leaves...fantastic.
"Can you tell me what you see, Mister Potter?"
Why was the Professor now asking only him? There were a few enthusiastic students in the room, but Trelawny wanted to torture him.
He opened his mouth to say he saw tea leaves, like any normal person would, when the muster of the leaves changed and Harry's eyebrows rose without permission.
"What do you see, Harry?" It was Luna who asked him, and Harry blinked a few times, thinking over what he saw. He needed to leave this junkie room, where the air had too many drugs that made you see things that weren't real. However, Luna did not annoy him—unlike one idiot redhead he was going to murder one day—and Harry licked his lips. He'd humour her.
"Don't go to the waterfalls with your dad on the Christmas break, and don't come near the water while you're not in Hogwarts." He said it, awaiting laughter, but saw wide, blue eyes look at him with all the seriousness the girl possessed.
"I'll die if I go with daddy to the Niagara Falls?"
"Yep."
"How? Will I fall down?"
"Yep."
"And if I don't go?"
"Then you won't fall."
Luna Lovegood seemed to think something over, and Harry decided he needed to run away from this room, when the leaves changed again.
"Oh, and don't walk on the Hogwarts stairs, looking at the ceilings."
"I'll fall and die?"
"Yep."
"Oh. So, how do I not die?" Luna seemed to be taking everything he had said seriously, and Harry bit his lip, when the leaves shifted again.
"Mister Potter, could you look into this cup as well?" This woman would never let him alone, he was sure, and that meant Trelawny had to go.
He didn't care where, but this mad hag had to leave with her damned drugs before she drove him insane.
With a heavy sigh, Harry took the cup and looked at the new batch of leaves.
He wasn't even surprised when the leaves started to move. He was probably high already from the fumes.
In the cup, he saw Trelawny on the floor, crying in pain, and a man was towering above her. Harry would have never recognized the man, had it not been for the bone-white wand the man held in his right hand. Well, well, well...He seemed to have found a solution for his problem with Trelawny. Now here, Voldemort looked like a real Dark Lord, if you pushed aside the fact that he wasn't much older than Harry himself.
Well, he'd be an honest boy and tell the truth about what he had seen in the drug-induced hallucination.
"It's your cup, Professor," Harry said slowly, knowing Dumbledore was listening closely, and watched the woman nod. "You'll be killed in a very painful way, but before that, you'll be tortured."
She really believed his wild fantasy! Her face was white, as she asked the question Harry had hoped for.
"Do-do you know who will be my killer?"
No more chilling for Dumbledore, he needed the old man to get lost and deal with other things than stalking Harry—he could stalk Voldemort instead—, so he opened his mouth, and clicking his tongue, he answered.
"Voldemort."
So many horrified Oh's from everyone!
Ahahahaha…
xxx
He hated children, and now he vividly remembered why. Noisy, clumsy, stupid pests that couldn't seat their arses in time. Too bad no Crucio was allowed, otherwise he'd make even Snape envy the order in his classroom.
No one would dare to breathe if they knew who was standing before them. Well, one person would be breathing and laughing, but Potter wasn't just a kid.
He was his. Horcrux, not kid.
And apparently, Potter could somehow see the future, because getting to Trelawny was on his 'to do' list. The fact that he would succeed raised his mood a bit, along with the fact that Potter seemed to have issues with Charms. Flitwick shared the news immediately, just like Trelawny, and now everyone knew Potter couldn't cast a simple Wingardium Leviosa. He'd leave it like that, maybe adding to Potter's humiliation, however, there were two things that made him change his tactics.
First, even if it had been the Mudblood's protection, Potter had still managed to blast him into pieces, which meant he had to be powerful. If Potter turned out to be a loser, it wouldn't look good for Voldemort either. Defeated by a retard.
And the second thing that made him reconsider his approach, was the fact that Potter was his Horcrux, and therefore, he had to be great. He had a theory since he had known about the Killing Curse and the house-elf, and he was going to test it before the whole class.
Voldemort looked at the door one more time, to make sure Dumbledore wasn't here, like he had been at Divination, and he mentally patted Potter on the head for the brilliant plan on how to get rid of Dumbledore's immediate attention. The boy pushed the attention onto him, Lord Voldemort, and he wasn't very amused, however, he had to admit the boy was good.
He had Hufflepuff with Gryffindor, and Voldemort sighed in disappointment. He was looking forward to seeing Potter and Granger in the same room, but Dumbledore had other thoughts, as he had changed all the schedules after having a talk with Severus and Granger yesterday.
"Today we will try a few spells, students." He couldn't stammer all the time, he wasn't Quirrel, and with pleased eyes, Voldemort looked around the room, noticing he had the attention from everyone but Potter.
The idiot boy was drawing doodles, sitting in the first row, alone.
Probably no one wanted to get another funny premonition from Potter. He'd ask the boy about it later. Now, however…
"Take out your wands, focus, and imagine a shield appearing before your eyes. Mister Potter, would you come over for a demonstration?"
He knew Harry would prove to be difficult, but at the moment, the boy was cooperating, silently standing , twirling Dumbledore's old wand.
"I'll cast the spell for the attack, and you cast the spell to create a shield. The incantation is 'Protego.'" At Potter's nod, Voldemort raised Quirrell's wand and gritting his teeth, he cast the spell.
Here he was, the great Lord Voldemort, Master of Dark Arts, casting an idiotic spell on Harry Potter, instead of a well-placed Crucio, followed by Avada Kedavra.
"Stupefy!"
Potter's wand flew to the side as the boy made a back somersault and fell heavily onto his arse.
Hehehe, that will do for now.
"Mister Potter, the idea is to block the curse, not to fly with it." The snickering students seemed to really piss off Harry, who could read all their stupid thoughts.
"One more time," Quirrell said, and raised his wand again.
Potter was getting up, green eyes mad with rage, when he cast the spell again. "Stupefy!"
Maybe it wouldn't be so hard to live a bit without Crucio if he made Potter fly like that every morning and evening.
"Let's try with Mister Weasley, then." Yes, he also could read minds, and Weasley's was simply screaming at him with its pathetic joy at Potter's failure.
Potter slowly picked up his wand, and went to sit behind his desk, not saying a word, while Ronald Weasley was now making a spectacle.
"Stupefy!"
So what if he didn't warn the idiot? He wouldn't have blocked it anyway.
A small light shined on Weasley's wand as he screamed 'Protego', and then like Potter, he flew into the wall.
He could do it all day long. What was good about the school, was that you had many, many students.
"One point to Hufflepuff for the tiny light of the spell, Mister Weasley," Voldemort commented with a smile, not looking at Harry, when he heard a crack. He knew that sound, and with shocked eyes, Voldemort watched Potter break his wand in two pieces, and throw it onto the floor, like trash.
"Mister Potter, how do you think you'll be learning magic without a wand?" Voldemort asked, truly interested in the answer.
"This shit is broken anyway. Probably a bootleg copy if you ask me." So rude…
"One point from Gryffindor for cursing, Mister Potter." The way the boy looked at him… If he was a Dark Lord it didn't mean he approved cursing and cussing.
He knew it wasn't a bootleg copy since he had very unpleasant memories of that wand from when Dumbledore had held it. He knew it worked just fine.
At least it was nice to see Dumbledore's old wand in two pieces on the floor...Voldemort stopped his mocking inner monologue when he noticed the wand move on its own.
Silently, he watched how the tip of the wand crawled to the handle, and just attached itself. A second later, the wand was back in one piece and it started moving towards Potter's hand.
Not possible.
He'd have a new definition for impossible...Potterish. The wand was Potterish, and the boy was Potterish...which meant not normal and very weird.
He knew he wasn't the only one staring at Potter.
"Mister Potter, do you want to try again?" He asked the boy, to not think about the wand that had repaired itself, because that just did not happen with normal people and normal wands.
"Can I cast the attack spell?" And what if you, idiot boy, forget yourself, and cast the curse you know how to cast? He wasn't looking forward to an early Avada Kedavra.
"Of course, Mister Potter. Do you remember the incantation correctly?" Quirrell asked, question neutral for others, but meaningful for Harry, who nodded.
Voldemort raised his wand, prepared to throw Weasley onto the path of the curse if it turned out green in colour, and waited for Potter.
"Stupefy!"
"Protego!"
He had landed on his arse, previously imprinting his body into a wall. The hell?
Did he forget how to cast the spell? It was true that he had last used Protego when he had been at school himself, since no Dark Lord ran around with a first-year spell as defence.
"Again!" He demanded, as he rose to his feet.
"Stupefy!"
"Protego!"
He was on the floor again, and this time Voldemort knew it had nothing to do with his unused spell. Potter's magic was purely offensive, and it meant the boy would be able to pull off any attacking spell, but none from the defensive branch. That was why Potter had had problems with Charms. Had Flitwick told them to blow up the feather, Potter's would have exploded in a second, together with the half of the castle. Since levitation wasn't offensive, Potter couldn't do it.
He'd test this theory now.
"Mister Weasley, Mister Potter. Let's try a new game. For each cast spell, you'll get awarded ten points. If you fail, you lose ten points." Had it been Slytherin, he'd give more, but he'd help his house win anyway. Now, however, he was going to do Harry a favour and show the class what Potter had in him.
While Weasley was beaming with delusional pride, Harry was looking at him with curious eyes and a raised eyebrow.
He'd let Harry train on Weasley, but then he'd be fired, and he couldn't have that when the Philosopher's stone was so near. That's why he'd use the dummies.
Potter and Weasley were standing in one row, looking at the two dummies.
"Wands out." Voldemort said, as he thought over the spells he wanted to use. The problem with being a teaching Dark Lord was that most of his spells weren't allowed and it annoyed Voldemort that he could use only one percent of his spells knowledge.
The boys were ready, the class was enthralled, and it looked good at the moment.
"Each new spell will be harder to cast, more demanding on your magic, and it will be going up in school years. Seven spells in total. Ready?" He'd have Hufflepuff in minus by the end of the day, and it would have worried Voldemort, that Gryffindor would go into the lead, but he knew tomorrow Potter had double Potions with none other than Slytherins, and that meant Snape would do his best to make Hufflepuff and Gryffindor equal in minus.
"First spell. Stupefy." He knew he was repeating himself, but he couldn't really allow Weasley to fail everything, as then Sprout would eat his ears out, rambling about unfairness or something equally ridiculous.
"Stupefy!" Weasley just couldn't wait to show off, or so he thought.
Weasley's wand tip had a sliver of light, and the dummy moved a bit.
Retard.
"Stupefy!"
He had to close his eyes with his sleeve when Potter had cast the spell, and the dummy hit the wall behind with such force that it exploded.
That is more like it.
"One point to Hufflepuff, ten to Gryffindor."
Now, Weasley would start his descend into the minus area with a simple "Bombarda."
"Bombarda!"
What did he say?
Idiot.
The dummy didn't even understand it was supposed to explode. With Potter, he knew it would be different.
"Bombarda!"
It was a good thing the dummies came in large shipments, as they'd run out of them by the end of today's lesson, as self-repair function did not work if all parts were blown into small pieces.
"Ten points to Gryffindor, minus ten from Hufflepuff. Do you want to sit down, Mister Weasley?" Of course not, the idiot believed he was Merlin reincarnated.
"I'd like to try more, Professor." Be my guest.
"Next spell. Diffindo."
Minus ten from Hufflepuff, and ten more to Gryffindor. Fourth year spell, and Potter had no issues, while Weasley was clearly out of his depth.
"Ferrus." That was an attacking spell that had qualities of a defence charm, and probably, Potter would fail.
"Ferrus!" He wasn't really paying attention to Weasley's struggles, as he knew the boy wouldn't cast it even in a few years, but Harry really interested him.
"Ferrus!" Would you look at that...So Potter could do defensive spells if they were intended to harm. Hmm...
Gryffindor was getting too many points, and there were three spells to go.
"Reparo." He knew it wasn't fair, since it wasn't an attacking spell and it was a first year spell, but who cared anyway? He'd take over Hogwarts soon, and then he'd make his own curriculum.
Weasley's dummy had nothing to repair, but the wand's tip did glow, and the spell kind of worked, making the idiot redhead almost salivate from joy.
Voldemort didn't know if Weasley would survive when Potter failed. He'd die from joy, probably.
"Reparo!" No matter how many times Harry had said it, nothing happened. Hehehe…
"Ten points to Hufflepuff, minus ten from Gryffindor." Voldemort smiled at Harry's squinted eyes, and offered the next spell.
"Expulso." Borderline dark magic, extremely hard to cast, and very powerful if done rightfully.
Weasley was out of the question, but Harry…
"Expulso!" The bright blue light shot out from Potter's wand and raced towards the dummy.
Harry blew up not only the dummy, but the wall as well, and Dumbledore wasn't amused. Voldemort hid back the insane snarl and smiled shyly, as Dumbledore walked through the hole in the wall, smiling at students.
Great…
"Professor Quirrell, what a wonderful idea. May I watch the end of the match?" And if I say no, will you go away?
"Of-of course, Headmaster." You wait, and I'll tear you apart. Blind, senile, old fool who allowed the Dark Lord to do whatever came to his mind, alone in the room full with students.
"Professor Quirrell, how about a new twist to the game, ah? Who casts the spell, will get one hundred points from me. Who doesn't, loses nothing." Dumbledore's voice was grating on his nerves, and the old fool's presence really annoyed him, but Voldemort had no choice but nod.
What did Dumbledore want? What was he doing here?
"Before I tell the incantation, please remember that casting this spell outside of this room will give you a one-way ticket to Azkaban," Dumbledore said, looking only at Potter.
?!
The senile old fool wanted Potter to cast the Killing Curse, and see for himself, if the boy was capable of casting it in his first lesson. Too bad for Potter, you either could cast the curse, or not, and if you could, it would always work. Many thought it had to do with intent, but as an expert, he'd say only the first one needed attention. All others go on automatic.
Potter was going to show Albus Dumbledore how well he could cast it and there was nothing he or Voldemort could do. Dumbledore was senile, but he was no fool. He had come to the same conclusion as Voldemort in regard to Harry's magic.
Weasley was pale and sweating, while Harry was looking at Voldemort for advice. The Dark Lord shook his head a bit, letting Potter know he had no choice but to cast it.
Dumbledore seemed to anticipate the result, as he had cast barrier spells around the student body, allowing only one magic free corridor for Potter to cast the curse. No one wanted to see Weasley's pathetic attempt.
"The most horrible curse in the wizarding world that automatically gives you a life sentence in Azkaban. Do you know what spell I am talking about?" Dumbledore seemed to have forgotten it was his class, and simply took over, shoving Quirrell to the side.
Most purebloods nodded, and Weasley squeaked, shaking his head, refusing to cast it.
"All right, Mister Weasley, please take a seat. Mister Potter, are you with us?" Well, of course Dumbledore wouldn't let Harry go when everything was done only to see Harry's curse.
"Do you need help with the incantation?" Tricky question. Potter should know the curse because he was famous for surviving it, and from the other side, it just said 'The Killing Curse' in the books. It did not say 'Avada Kedavra'. Come on, Potter, don't be stupid and say yes.
"Nope, I am good."
Idiot.
"All right then, Harry. Please, go ahead." Why had Dumbledore never taught him like that? Go ahead, Tom, and cast a Killing Curse, and I'll give you a lemon drop with one hundred house points…
Voldemort's eyes were shining as he watched Harry raise his wand, and with held breath he observed Dumbledore's face.
Potter was going to show Dumbledore how well he could cast Avada Kedavra, and he, Lord Voldemort, was going to watch.
Something about the way Potter held the wand told him that with Potter, you never know what to expect. The wand's angle was too deep, and the grip on the wand fit another Unforgivable, but not the Killing Curse.
He wouldn't, would he? Was Potter stupid on purpose, or it was the plan? Harry's concentrated eyes told Voldemort that Potter did not understand that he was supposed to cast Avada Kedavra.
Potter had thought about the other curse.
He wouldn't, right?
Salazar's basilisk! Harry was truly a nutjob.
"Crucio!"
Looking at the stable, shining red light that went out of Potter's wand and into both dummies, Voldemort licked his lips.
He knew only one Cruciatus that looked better and was more powerful.
His own, and he had practised it for over fifty years.
Oh, Potter, Potter...What are you?
xxx
a/n Thank you for the comments! I'll definitely try to fit in the Diary and Harry's ramblings, so thanks for the idea, Hweianime! Should be amusing to write :)
