Note: If you don't like the short chapters, don't read the story.
THE HAND OF FATE
by Yih
One unexpected event after another/1937
The letters from Tom were arranged in the desk drawer in order by date and Harry traced his finger over the edge of them as he thought about their contents. Tom was being harassed within Slytherin because he was not a pureblood. Had it been like that from the very beginning? But then why did Voldemort uphold the idea of blood supremacy so strongly? Although Harry understood well enough the hatred he must have had for his muggle father.
Still he hoped that Tom would take the advice he had written to him to heart. Just because he did not have two magical parents didn't mean he wasn't just as worthy of his magic as those who did. After all, as he had told Tom, he was the same. He wasn't a pureblood. He had deliberately left out that his mom had been a witch, though. That wasn't important in the scheme of things. Even if Lily Evans had been born a witch, she would forever be muggleborn and thus, Harry as her son, would never be a pureblood – neither would any of his children.
But what concerned Harry more than Tom's blood status was the fact that he was using powerful magic far above what a first year should use to earn respect within Slytherin. Harry didn't have any inkling what it would be like to be a Slytherin, although from Tom's letters he was beginning to understand. As much as purity of blood was admired, power was also coveted and that Tom had in abundance. Harry was afraid that Tom would grow to like being in such a position of power.
And yet, Harry couldn't bring himself to chide the boy for doing something that was keeping him from being bullied by his housemates. He had merely told Tom to be careful to keep his spellwork hidden from the professors. The only good thing about being within Slytherin was that the students within the house knew when to keep their mouths shut. Even if they didn't like you, they still didn't tell on their own. Although that wouldn't protect you from their wrath.
If only… he had kept Tom at home.
If only… Tom hadn't been sorted into Slytherin.
If only… he was sure he had done enough early enough to be sure…
But there was no helping it now, Harry thought, what was done was done. He closed the drawer and took up his quill, wondering what he should say in his response to Tom's last letter. Harry would certainly like Tom to be able to come home on weekends, but first years were prohibited from leaving Hogwarts unless they were on holiday even though he lived so close to the school.
How much influence could he have over Tom when they were separated – when all he could do was write passive advice?
At least, Tom was making good friends. Alphard Black was the uncle that had supported Sirius when he had been cast out of his own family. Harry didn't know much about Septimus Weasley, but he couldn't imagine Ron's grandfather being a bad apple. And what could he say to disparage Minerva McGonagall?
The only concerning person Tom was close to was Abraxas Malfoy.
Harry really didn't know what to make of a sixth year befriending a first year. It was just strange. And it was worrisome.
He sighed and smoothed out his parchment as he posed his quill over it. Harry was about to start writing when a familiar phoenix flew through the window he always kept open for Adelais, the falcon he had bought from Tom had become a companion for him now that he had no one at home to greet him. Harry was surprised to see Fawkes and even more surprised when Fawkes greeted him and affectionately rubbed his head against the back of his hand.
Did Fawkes recognize him?
Harry pondered the question as he opened the scroll Fawkes had brought with him.
To Mr. Gaunt,
If you have the time, please join me for tea.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
P.S. This is a portkey and I suggest you let go within 30 seconds or it will activate.
Already Harry could feel the pull of the portkey tugging him toward Hogwarts and Dumbledore when he finished reading the postscript. Harry shook his head a, smiling barely, wondering why Dumbledore would invite him for tea as he felt himself being transported from Knockturn Alley.
Harry found himself standing directly in front of Dumbledore in a bright yellow and orange decorated room that was horribly garish and completely like him. It was strange to see Dumbledore so young and alive. How old was he now? In his 40s? In his 50s? He had been over a hundred, Harry knew in his time, but he'd never known precisely how old Dumbledore was.
He was much younger here with his hair not yet gray, still a chestnut color, and he hardly had any beard compared to his older self. And he certainly didn't have the deep lines that had dug into his face as the years of war and death had taken their toll on Dumbledore. Harry was glad to see him looking so unburdened and full of life.
"Come sit," Dumbledore said, gesturing at the chair in front of his desk. "A pot of tea and scones will be brought shortly. Is there anything else you might like? Some crumpets perhaps or cucumber sandwiches? I can ask Hooky bring up another tray when he gets back."
Harry sat down in the chair across from Dumbledore's, not really having much of a choice since he was already here. Besides, it would give him the chance to find out more about this Dumbledore versus the Dumbledore he had known. It also wouldn't hurt to find out more about how Dumbledore had heard of him.
"Scones and tea are good," Harry said. "I must say, I haven't yet figured out how to open the locket. It is quite cursed."
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, that is quite so. Do take your time. I am in no particular rush. It has been locked tight for years, despite my best efforts."
Was this a test or was he making a big deal out of nothing? Although Harry found it hard to believe he would be able to break a curse where Dumbledore had failed. What did he really want from Harry?
"I suspect you're wondering why I invited you for tea," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling merrily despite the fact the words he'd just spoken could be interpreted in a less than pleasant light. "Am I not right?"
Harry inclined his head. "I'll admit it's on my mind."
"Well, I shall tell you this," Dumbledore said, leaning forward as if to divulge a great secret, "suspense is the spice of life." He smiled and Harry found himself nodding politely. "I daresay soon enough you will uncover the answer to your question, but I will endeavor to keep you on your toes."
Harry had no idea how to interpret what Dumbledore had just said to him. Was he reading too much between the lines or not enough? Harry had always thought Dumbledore was straightforward and kind when he'd been a child; but as the war had started and progressed ,Harry had learned there was much more to Dumbledore than met the eye. He was not someone you wanted to trifle with and certainly not someone you wanted to make an enemy of.
"Mr. Gaunt," Dumbledore said slowly with much emphasis, "I do look forward in becoming well acquainted with you."
"I wish for the same," Harry responded when the house elf that must be Hooky popped into the room with a tray of hot tea and warm scones. "As much as I would like to stay for some afternoon refreshments, I'm afraid I must be heading back."
"How disappointing," Dumbledore stated. "Please take some scones back with you at the very least. I must say we have the best scones I've ever tasted made in the kitchens."
"Thank you," Harry said to both Dumbledore and Hooky, who had already wrapped up a few scones with a piece of cloth that had magically appeared in its hands. "May I use your floo?"
"Please go ahead," Dumbledore said, "and do have a good day."
Harry nodded and took the scones Hooky handed him and tucked them inside of his robes. He then walked up to the floor in Dumbledore's office and grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. "The second shop on sixth alleyway of Knockturn Alley!"
He stumbled out of the fireplace within the shop unbalanced by his trip. Harry swept off the floo powder from his robes and sat down on the first chair he could find. He hated traveling by floo more than anything, but it would have looked suspicious to try traveling any other way. Harry smiled grimly when he noticed he wasn't the only one in the shop. It wasn't just the owner who was his boss; there was a customer with familiar white blond hair.
"Gaunt!" his boss, an elderly wizard with far too much knowledge of dark curses to ever cross, said. "Come, come, I have someone I would like to introduce to you. This is the Malfoy heir, Abraxas Malfoy."
"How do you do," Harry said, inclining his head respectfully at the younger man not because of his status but because he was Tom's friend. "I am Harry Gaunt," he said, holding out his hand for good form.
"I hope I may call you Harry," Abraxas said smoothly as he reached over and took his hand. "I believe we are fairly close in age, although it may not be appropriate."
Harry looked at his boss then at Abraxas with much confusion.
"My godson," his boss said, completely surprising him, "would like to hire you as his tutor."
TBC
Please review!
A/N: This chapter had a life of its own and I ended up changing the name of it, which I rarely do as conceiving the title has a lot to do with what I plan to write in it. The last entire scene post-floo was completely unexpected, hence the name the chapter ended up having, as well as the invitation to tea with Dumbledore being unexpected for Harry. I hope you enjoyed the events of the chapter. I know a lot of you were expecting a response to Tom's letter, but I don't like to write what's expected if it won't really add anything to the story. This works a lot better and opens a few unexpected doors.
I wonder on your thoughts and speculations of what possibilities might occur.
As for why it took so long for the chapter to be release, it's because I'm getting busier and I will be even busier for the next two weeks as my shelf is coming up again and I have to do a grand rounds presentation. Also longer chapters for some reason take me so much longer than two shorter chapters that total have a longer word count. I think it's because I have to consider pacing and how the individual parts of a chapter go well with each other. Either way, the longer the chapter the expontentially longer it takes to write it. So this story has about 15,000 words in a month. From my experience writing my long chaptered fic, From the Ashes, it takes me a month to write a 5,000 word chapter. I'm also currently stalled on that one. Hopefully that doesn't happen here!
Released on June 13, 2010.
