Chapter 37:
Harry's eyes widened in a shocked horror as some of the smoke cleared, allowing him a better view of the platform.
There were dark figures everywhere, hooded and cloaked, with stark white faces like bone.
His mouth ran dry, an uneasy feeling in his stomach.
He clutched his wand more tightly in his hand, heart hammering - was this why Tom had told him to stay with the Malfoys? He couldn't even see them anymore, among the panic of people running for cover, in shielding their children and spells flying everywhere.
He swallowed, thickly.
He'd never seen anything like this before; the terror, everything!
He froze for a second as one of the hooded figures noticed him, wetting his lips, straightening from where he was sprawled against the dusty platform.
He threw up a protego instinctively, and was glad that he did so with the stunner that soared towards him, and was deflected.
The second after that, he wondered if he'd really done the right thing, as now the spells switched to something far less harmless and he didn't know who they were or what they wanted or why they thought attacking a third year student was worth time.
Why were they on the platform?
He was immediately out of his death, even as he dodged quickly, nausea holding his guts to ransom. He knew some spells, yes, but he wasn't under the impression he was the most epic, formidable duellist. He wasn't. How could he be, in the limited time he'd had to practise when such mastery over magic took years, experience, even with power?
He did his damn hardest anyway, not about to go down without a fight, if he had to go down at all.
There were adults on the station; they wouldn't just leave someone fighting on their own like he was, even among all the panic and the chaos.
He was slowly losing ground though, and seriously considering firing Morsmorde and attacking with snakes. But...well, that would alert Tom, and if Tom was the cause of this, he didn't want to give the bastard the satisfaction.
He also had no desire to be some type of damsel in distress, or the kid who needed saving by bigger, more experienced wizards or witches than himself.
But he could still use snakes, if he dared to use Parseltongue. The events of his second year had certainly made him leery of such a thing, and the ramifications it could cause, even with the best of intentions.
Innovation - imagination - wasn't those the things that Tom valued most? He should be able to fight with basic spells, as much as greater knowledge helped, if he could think of how to use what he did have to his best advantage.
It made up his mind.
"Serpensortia!" He didn't know what kind of snake he'd summoned, but he pictured Tom's mark when he was doing so, and they turned out similar so he could take a guess. "Make him stop attacking me, but don't hurt anyone else!" he hissed, in order, blurting out the words in a frantic immediacy.
The snake slithered forward, rearing back to bite and lunge and - he blanched.
"Don't kill him!" he cried, thinking he should have said that first, specified his order. The snake glanced at him, before rearing up some more, hissing at the man, lashing out forwards and - and his attacker was scrambling back in his haste, wide-eyed, nearly straight into the railway tracks around.
Harry swallowed, heart pounding and fists clenched as the snake circled him.
Then...then the man seemed to regain his initial terror, wand pointing at the snakes, and Harry shot shield charm at it the same time, resulting in sparks.
He wetted his lips, staring back stonily, because if he'd learnt anything from Tom it was that showing weakness was like bleeding in front of a shark. It only invited trouble. It was far better to intimidate, and make people think he was far more skilled and deadly than he actually was.
They didn't know the snake wouldn't kill.
So he bared his teeth instead, like he was a snake too, hissing at the man - if only to freak him out and gain himself some time.
The man faltered back a step more, before lunging with vengeance, sending rubble straight through his shield charm and crushing the creature.
Harry felt his insides lurch, and an awful guilt spawn in his chest.
The snake had died protecting him. Because he summoned it. It could have been safe, it could-
He narrowly ducked a spell, barely able to breathe, and the next second he was knocked straight off his feet, his wand clattering a few metres away.
The white masked face advanced, and he crawled towards his wand- and he wouldn't reach it-
"Accio!" he gasped, desperately. The wand hit his palm at the same time he had to roll to dodge another spell, but then more light was zooming to him in quick succession and his shield charm had puttered out in shock.
He'd never actually tested his spells out before, in anything like this! He felt so stupidly defenseless and unprepared and-
The attacker went down.
Harry stared, not entirely sure what had happened, scrambling to his feet just as a stranger barreled in front of him, posture protective, pulling him behind him.
He looked young, but his brown hair was flecked with grey and his clothes were shabby and of poor quality, darned in numerous places.
But bloody hell he was a good dueller!
He clutched his own wand out, sending spells occasionally, trying to help and-
And then there were more screams, and green smoke in the sky - a skull, with serpents out the mouth - a horribly familiar mark - and - and the battle was over.
They disapparated as quickly as they came.
He didn't understand!
"Are you alright?" the stranger turned to him, grasping his shoulders firmly and peering at him. He had a kind, haggard face. Harry swallowed, nodding.
"I-I'm fine. Thank you, sir. I-you saved my life. I owe you debt."
"You owe me nothing," the man assured, squeezing his shoulder. "Let's get you safely back to your friends. Who should I-?"
Malfoy?
"The Weasleys. Red hair-"
"Yes," the man smiled, expression softening. "I know their family. Come on, stay close to me. Are you sure you're not hurt?"
"No, sir, I'm okay," he said again, eyeing the man. "Sir, what was that-they -they were Death Eaters, weren't they? Voldemort's followers? Why would they be attacking the platform?"
He realised he didn't even know the man's name; but, before he could ask, he was being swept into a familiar, squash of a hug, with cries of his name and 'thank goodness you're safe'.
The Weasleys.
When he looked around again...the man who'd helped him was gone, and he was left with nothing but his troubled thoughts and a tight anger which coiled in his chest.
Azkaban could be explained, but what the hell was Tom even playing at with this?
He was going to throttle the git. Once his heartbeat slowed down...
Tom Riddle wasn't foolish enough to think that Dumbledore was happy about this arrangement, though he was smug to say the man hadn't really had a choice - or to deny that he hadn't fully opened himself up for a very different kind of war on enemy territory.
It was worth it though.
Harry was an asset, and one he would protect fiercely from...undesirable influences. If he wanted to keep the boy, he needed to continue to work on him and solidify their connection. One summer wasn't enough, it was a blip on the radar in the grand scheme of things.
He couldn't afford to let Harry run around freely after all the work he'd done, unless he wanted his schemes to backfire under the Headmaster's machinations.
But he also wasn't here solely for Harry.
He needed more recruits, and students were the future. If he could convert a large faction of the Hogwarts population to his side, then he was one step closer to victory.
He hardly saw why Dumbledore alone should have access to the best poaching ground in the country, after all.
Of course, he couldn't recruit as actively as he would have liked, and his methods would need to be subtle because as much as history teachers were lacking, the Ministry would not tolerate Pro-Dark Propaganda.
But he could give a more historical, objective view of the situation certainly, and, he could assess the students for signs of agreement with his cause, or sympathy, through debate and reaction to certain historical events.
It was a fine knife to walk, but he'd always been sure of his balance.
He'd have to tread carefully, and if Dumbledore had his way he'd no doubt have numerous obstacles, but he was confident of his ability to succeed in this endeavour.
If nothing else, the scrutiny would allow him to inspect the students for whom to keep an eye on, and who to court outside of school hours if necessary.
The fact that he liked the idea of teaching, even if he had little patience for idiots or children, was a pro too, albeit one of little ultimate consequence.
History really was appallingly lacking in this country.
He had it all figured out:
First Year: Basics of Wizarding History, including the founding of Hogwarts, witch hunts and a brief overview of recent British magical history which those new to the world would need to know. It was more of a comprehensive year, aimed to encapsulate the key themes of magical history.
Harry could do with taking that one, though he had no viable reason to teach the basics to third years. He'd probably start all of them with a module of basics to catch them up, at least, if only because he himself had been unfortunate enough to suffer through Binns teaching himself.
Second Year: Wizarding History with Magical Creatures, notably those of sentience, house elves, Goblin Rebellions etc. The fact that these didn't always reflect so well on the so called Light Side and certainly the Ministry and the current state of affairs was a happy coincidence.
Third Year: He would focus more on external affairs. Key magical events in the world, outside of Britain, most notably including Grindelwald in a large section as it was probably the most vital for the students to know about, and he may throw in certain other Dark Wizards in there too, briefly, as an entirely logical contrast and comparison.
He would also throw in some magical creatures too, for cohesiveness and to combat the damage of inadequate teaching. From the notes he'd looked over, it would also go smoothly with the Defence Curriculum, so maybe at least educationally he might have one less enemy there.
Fourth Year: Would be focused on the relationship between muggles and magic throughout history, further building on the previous years and their historical overviews. He'd considered this one for third year, but..from a schematic view point this made more sense. As far as he was concerned, Harry would be taught by him next year too, and so the information would still come up. He couldn't risk too much pointed suspicion or evidence against him, and it would have been all too obvious a ploy to Harry.
Besides, Harry wasn't his only priority. Fourth year would allow him to start targeting potential recruits early, before they were too set into their OWLs, and thus, careers already.
Fifth Year (and, unless he suddenly had an influx of NEWT students, which he doubted, at least in the first year of his teaching, his last year as nobody took NEWT History really): he would focus on History of Magic in the most theoretical, abstract sense of the history of magic. Dark, Light - and henceforth, further opening up recruiting for his cause.
It was bloody perfect for his needs, and yet looked very good from an educational point of view.
He couldn't wait to see Harry's face.
Priceless.
As for the attack on the station...that had been carefully orchestrated too.
His horcrux would see that soon enough.
Harry was absolutely astonished.
He really didn't know what to think, he'd been fully prepared to be livid at Tom, but...all throughout the train people were apologising for thinking badly of him.
Apparently there had been small, focused attacks all throughout the country, largely to strike terror in people's hearts without seeming purpose.
But...he could see the point of it all to clearly. Lord Voldemort hadn't explicitly announced himself as a presence in the world yet again, but the attacks of his followers aroused enough suspicion...and, apparently, that meant he was the saviour and the good guy again. Because he'd been fighting Death Eaters on the station.
Because they'd apparently been there for him. To attack him.
And Tom had obviously set it all up...clearing Harry's name from the past year, throwing suspicion away from him whilst performing a simultaneous debut.
He was still suspicious though.
His head was spinning. He couldn't work out all the ins and outs in his head, and he was seriously writing the git once he got to Hogwarts, but...that at least seemed to have been partially the point. He didn't quite know how everything worked out, he'd only heard whispers, but...he could see the conclusion and the consequences for himself.
People were being nice to him again.
And now he really didn't know what to think.
The train sped towards Hogwarts, and his Third Year, and he didn't know who the stranger on the platform had been either.
How was it possible he had this many questions already?
At least school was a place for learning?
They slammed the compartment door shut behind them.
A/N: In my defence for this chapter...I'm setting stuff up. Has to be done, and at least I'm good at updating regularly? *hopeful smile.* Also, Tom and Harry see each other again in the next chapter, so that's something, and you get to skip over to Sirius a bit too, among other things. Yeah. Thanks for the reviews! Much love 3