Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit.
Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story.
Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.
Authors Note:
Apologies in advance for another cliffhanger of sorts. It's not as bad as last chapter's, but will hopefully still leave you wanting more :)
Recommendations:
Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man.
Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived by The Santi.
Growing Up Black by ElvindorkNigellus.
The Hero and The Veela by JackPotter.
Stepping Back, and Honour Thy Blood by TheBlack'sResurgence.
The Mind Arts by Wu Gang.
A Cadmean Victory by DarknessEnthroned.
"Speech."
'Internal Dialogue.
Parseltongue.
Memories/In Story Text.
Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal
By ACI100.
Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.
Chapter 3: Diaries and Dilemmas.
July 31st 1992.
St. Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
11:36 PM.
It was a grave atmosphere that surrounded Harry, Dean, Neville, Oliver and the Weasley children as they all sat outside the room where Augusta lay. They had been assured she would make a full recovery thanks to Harry's quick thinking regarding the bezoar, but they said she would need to stay at least a few weeks; possibly over a month. Aconite was a rather deadly, if little used poison, and at Augusta's age — well, it had been a very near miss.
The chasers had been taken home by Katie's mother who worked at the hospital as a healer about half an hour ago, though all three of them had wanted to stay. Oliver insisted on staying at least until Harry and Neville had a place to stay sorted out, and until Dean and the Weasleys had a way of getting home.
Moody had been there, but he had to go into work and Harry had told him not to cancel for their sake. The man had argued weakly but given in fairly quickly, not having the heart to argue with the youth at the time.
'The day was going so well too.' Thought Harry.
He had even managed to forget about Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black only for it to be replaced by another, far more pressing issue. There was also the mystery of who had sent him the poisoned treacle tart. He was certain it had been meant for him; it was his favourite after all, and the letter had clearly addressed him but unfortunately for both the sender and Augusta, it had been the older woman who had been caught in the crossfire.
'But who would want to kill me aside from Voldemort?'
He quickly discounted that option. He doubted The Dark Lord was in any state to send birthday presents at the moment and even if he was, it somehow didn't seem like Voldemort's style from what Harry had read up on the man.
Just as the deafening silence in the group was becoming too much to bear, the doors at the end of the wing opened, and through them stepped three red-heads; two of them Harry already knew, as well as, to Harry's supreme shock, a very tired looking Dumbledore. His hair and beard gleaming more brightly than anything in the hall, but he had an unmistakeable air of fatigue about him. He stood a bit behind the three Weasleys; Mrs. Weasley, Ginny and a tall, thin man with balding red hair that Harry did not know but who he assumed to be Ron's father.
"Oh Fred, George, Ron!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, quickly taking hold of her youngest first before moving onto her twins. Her husband looked grave but Harry found the eyes of the youngest Weasley firmly on him and they seemed to be asking him a silent question, one that he swore he could hear echoing in his mind when he met them.
'Are you ok.'
Harry gave her a nearly imperceptible nod in affirmation though in reality, the lie could not have been further from the truth and he somehow knew that she too was aware of that fact. If he would have just closed the tart, or better yet just put it away, they would not be in this situation.
To his left, a rather surprised looking Neville was trapped in the tight embrace of Mrs. Weasley and Harry tensed, knowing that he would be next and having no desire for such things right now. As if the man had noticed, Dumbledore spoke softly from the shadows, though his voice may as well have been a gunshot in the quiet hall.
"Could I have a word with you, Harry?" Everybody's attention snapped onto the headmaster, as Harry seemed to have been the only one to notice him. He nodded automatically, getting to his feet and following Dumbledore down the hall. Dumbledore stopped in the wide open before drawing his wand, a rather odd looking wand now that Harry saw it up close. It was darker than most, with odd symbols that he assumed to be runes carved all over its surface. He traced the wand through the air in an intricate pattern before sighing, seeming to be satisfied as he stowed the wand back in his sleeve.
"It is best if we are not interrupted." He explained gravely before turning to the youth in front of him. "Firstly Harry, allow me to offer my most sincere condolences. It is horrible that such a tragedy has befallen you, let alone on your birthday of all days." He shook his head sadly. "How are you coping?"
Harry shrugged. "I'm not, really," he answered truthfully, seeing no reason to lie to the older man, "I'm just sort of numb to it I think. I wish I had bitten into the tart though."
"And what good would that have done anyone?" Dumbledore asked him more sharply than Harry had anticipated before his voice softened again. "If you had taken poor Augusta's place, I fear that no other would have had your quick thinking and ingenuity in such a moment. I am also sure that Augusta would infinitely prefer being in her condition to losing the boy who she has taken on as a second grandson."
Harry nodded stiffly. He knew that the headmaster had been correct in his assessment, but it did nothing to curb the irrational guilt he felt deep within his very soul.
"It was a poisoned gift?" Asked Dumbledore, peering intently at Harry. He nodded, still not seeing a good enough reason to lie.
"Yes, treacle tart; a favourite of mine."
"Did this gift come with a note by any chance?" Harry pulled the offending slip of parchment from his pocket and handed it to the older man. He saw his lips tighten in distaste at the contents of the note before his wand was in his hand again. "May I?" He asked, his wand hovering over the parchment. Harry nodded and Dumbledore began to run his wand over the note, muttering in all kinds of strange languages that Harry did not understand before he sighed, nodding grudgingly as he handed the parchment back to Harry.. "Whomever has sent this has covered their tracks well." He conceded. "There is no trace of magic on this note. It has been handled extremely carefully, for the mere touch of a hand is often enough to leave a magical residue."
Harry didn't react, having expected nothing less; it was just his luck after all.
"Have you and young Mr. Longbottom worked out a place to stay while Augusta is recovering?"
"No." Harry answered honestly.
"Molly and Arthur are more than agreeable to allow both you and Mr. Longbottom to stay at their home for the remainder of the summer holidays. I would like to think I have learned from past experience and did not wish to overstep my boundaries as your magical guardian." Harry nodded, actually managing a weak, if a bit sad smile for the old man who nodded in return. "You are agreeable to the proposal then?"
"Yes," said Harry, "you'll have to ask Neville too, but I think he'll like the idea. At least this way we can stay with some friends."
"My thoughts exactly," the headmaster concurred, "Arthur and Molly are as exemplary as the rest of their family. I have no doubt that the both of you will be well looked after and rather better off than well fed." The man yawned, briefly removing his half-moon spectacles and rubbing tiredly at his eyes, which had dark bags underneath them.
"Are you alright, sir?" Harry asked tentatively, having never seen Dumbledore look so worn out.
The man merely smiled gently at him as he replaced his spectacles back upon his nose. "Quite so, though I thank you for your concern. I spent much of my summer touring Greece, as it is a place I have always found most interesting, but was forced to rush back to England on short notice. I have observed that in my old age, travel takes more of a toll than it did in my youth." He spotted Harry's guilty look and raised a placating hand. "I was coming back today either way, dear boy. I have to depart for Russia on the seventh of August for our annual ICW convention and needed to get some paperwork finished that I have procrastinated over during my vacation."
Harry noticed the rest of them watching him and Dumbledore intently and the headmaster followed his gaze with some amusement.
"I think that is our queue to cut this meeting short," he noted with a respectful nod to Harry, "I will briefly speak with Mr. Longbottom as well as both Molly and Arthur and then I am afraid I must be on my way."
He waved his wand and dispelled whatever magic he had conjured around them as he made his way over to Neville. Harry was receiving rather awed looks from his friends as he made his way back to the row of chairs. He almost jumped a foot into the air when he felt a soft hand close around his for a second before giving it a brief squeeze and letting go. He turned his head to see the same pair of eyes looking at him as he had earlier, soft brown eyes belonging to the youngest of the red haired brewed. Harry smiled sadly back at her, making her blush furiously.
August 4th 1992.
The Burrow.
7:41 AM.
It was quite a shift going from the spacious manor that was the Longbottom ancestral home to the cramped, chaotic confines of The Burrow. With that being said, Harry did not at all dislike the atmosphere. As a matter of fact, he found it very enjoyable and thought it was a nice feeling. The place just felt warm and inviting, something he had spent much of his life wishing for above all else.
He spent a bit of time each day out above the orchards playing Quidditch with Ron, Fred, George and occasionally Neville. The twins had tried to convince their older brother Percy to play, but the boy was constantly shut up in his room, causing Ron to proclaim he was worse than Harry, who too had spent much time behind the closed door of his, Ron's and Neville's shared bedroom studying diligently. Unlike Augusta, Mrs. Weasley was not so lax on the use of magic, only reluctantly allowing Harry's sessions with Moody to continue at all. The restraint bothered Harry quite a bit, but Mrs. Weasley had been nothing but adoring of both him and Neville since their arrival, so he could hardly hold a grudge.
This morning he was up before his counterparts, something that came as no surprise at all to him as he crept down the stairs and into the kitchen, intent on making some food for himself if Mrs. Weasley was not already up and doing so. To his surprise though, there was a female Weasley in the kitchen although it was not Mrs. Weasley. Ginny seemed to be making scrambled eggs and toast for herself.
"Good morning Ginny." He greeted, causing her to squeal and drop the plate she had grabbed for her food, prompting it to shatter on the floor. Harry cursed internally, slipping his wand from his sleeve as he had not bothered with his holster this morning. Ginny's eyes went wide as he pointed the wand towards the shattered plate. "Reparo." He said calmly, causing the plate to neatly fit back together as he pocketed his wand.
Ginny frowned. "Mum won't like that." She warned, but did not object as she turned her attention back to the eggs.
"I won't tell if you don't." Harry told her with a smile, causing Ginny to stifle a snort behind her hand. "Can you leave the bread out?" He asked her after a moment. "I think I'll take some after you unless your mum is coming back. Merlin knows she won't let me make anything for myself."
Ginny giggled. "She's out at the market; she probably won't be back for awhile." She piled the last piece of toast onto her plate before holding it out to him. "Take mine, I'll make more."
Harry shook his head. "It's ok," he said with a smile, "I can make my own."
Ginny ignored him, placing the plate on the table and reaching for more toast. "I don't mind." She said as she began to prepare more.
Harry sighed but couldn't quite suppress a smile. "Clearly." He noted with some amusement, taking a seat and reaching for the plate just as an owl flew in the open window and dropped off a copy of The Daily Prophet. Harry picked up the paper.
Ministry Conducts Controversial Raids on The Homes of Several Influential Members of The Wizengamot
By Rita Skeeter.
"Wish your dad had found something at Malfoy's." He muttered as he skimmed the article. Mr. Weasley had told them of the oncoming raids and Harry had been rather interested, seeming to surprise the older man, as none of his children, with the exception of Percy, were ever overly bothered.
"Did they get anything from anyone?" Ginny asked him curiously.
"Some minor things from a few places, it sounds like." He informed her. "Nothing major though, and nothing from Lucius Malfoy."
Ginny frowned. "Dad will be miffed by that." She said. "Anything else interesting in there?"
Harry flipped through the paper and scanned each page, frowning at the title:
Albus Dumbledore's Sympathy of Dangerous Creatures Could Lead To Disaster.
"Not unless you're interested in Dumbledore getting bashed by some reporter for spearheading the passing of a new law." He said as he scanned the page.
"What law?"
He read a bit more carefully for a moment before answering. "I guess it's more of a change then a new law. Apparently Dumbledore's been trying for months to get Veela removed from the dark creatures classification. He won the vote yesterday. Apparently this reporter isn't happy about it."
Ginny giggled. "Such a silly thing to be upset over."
"They'll always find something." Sighed Harry as he put down his paper and went back to his eggs. He sat in silence for several minutes before Ginny took her seat with her own plate. Seemingly on queue, there was a loud CRACK from beside them -and Harry whirled, wand out to find, to his bemusement, the filthiest house elf Harry had ever laid his eyes on.
The creature looked no different from most except for the fact that its right hand seemed to be wrapped in a heavy bandage and its robe was not one at all. Instead it was what appeared to be a filthy pillow case draped over itself as a loincloth.
'Yikes.'
"Harry Potter," breathed the creature in a voice that was definitely too high to be a human's, "it is an honour sir! Such an honour! So long Dobby has wanted to meet the great Harry Potter sir!"
"Thank you," answered Harry carefully, thrown a bit off guard by the elf. None of the Longbottom's elves acted anything like the creature that stood in front of him. "Who are you?" Harry asked, doing his best to not come across as rude, but the house elf didn't seem to think him so. On the contrary, the creature positively beamed at him upon being asked such a trivial question.
"Dobby sir — just Dobby — Dobby the house elf!"
"I don't mean to be rude," said Harry, doing his best to emulate Dumbledore's ever calm, ever polite manner of speaking, "but is there any particular reason you're here?" Harry glanced towards Ginny. She was sat at the table in what appeared to be complete and utter shock, though she had the wherewithal to keep quiet.
"Oh — yes sir." The house elf said earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you sir — it is difficult sir — Dobby wonders where to begin."
"Take a seat if you'd like." Offered Harry, finding it a bit odd to have the house elf standing before him, looking up at him with ever questioning eyes. To his alarm, the elf burst into rather loud tears, tears that he was certain would carry up the stairs and into the others bedrooms. "Shhh!" Hissed Harry urgently, and as soon as he spoke, the house elf fell deadly silent, choosing instead to let the tears fall silently down his face. When he had finally managed to recover several minutes later, the elf spoke.
"Dobby has never been offered a seat with wizards! To do so is to treat Dobby as an equal!"
"Then you can't have met many decent wizards." Said Harry with some distaste, fully aware of the prejudice that magical creatures faced from much of the wizarding populace.
Dobby shook his head and then, without warning, he lunged towards the wall, swiftly beginning to smack his head against it repeatedly. Ginny screamed and Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it towards the stairs.
"Silencio." He incanted, assuring that no more sound would reach the upstairs section of the home. He realized what was happening and scolded himself internally for not foreseeing it. Judging by his appearance and demeanour, Dobby's masters clearly were not the kindest of wizards, and Harry had essentially led the elf straight into a trap. He could not insult them without violating his own code, hence the punishment; though Harry personally thought self inflicted concussion may have been a bit over the top.
"Protego." He said, aiming his wand between Dobby and the wall, causing a shimmering white shield to push the elf back. Once he was confident that Dobby wouldn't try to weaponize the wall against himself again, Harry dropped his shield and turned back to the elf.
Ginny was wide eyed now and looked as if she might cry. Harry shot her what he hoped was a comforting smile before redirecting his full attention back to the house elf in front of him.
"Dobby," said Harry as forcefully as he could manage, "don't do anything that you'll have to punish yourself for."
The elf smiled sadly at him. "It is too late for that, Harry Potter. Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door if they ever find out"
"But won't they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?" Ginny asked, sounding incredulous.
"Dobby doubts it, miss." The elf said gravely. "Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, miss. They let Dobby get on with it. Sometimes they remind Dobby to do extra punishments."
"Who would do something like that?" Raged Ginny, sounding furious.
"More people than you might think." Harry muttered darkly, thinking of Malfoy and his group of lackeys.
"The great Harry Potter is right, miss." Said Dobby heavily. "But of course he is, Harry Potter is a great wizard."
Harry shook his head. "Whatever you've heard about my greatness is exaggerated at best. I've only completed a year at Hogwarts. I have a very long way to go."
"Harry Potter is humble and modest." Dobby said admiringly. "Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
Harry sighed. "You shouldn't be so excited about coincidences, Dobby. I had no control over what happened that night with Voldemort." Ginny squealed in protest at the name and Dobby sprang backwards, shaking his head frantically.
"Speak not the name sir! Speak not the name!"
Harry scowled. "Fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself." He quoted his headmaster pointedly. "I don't fear Voldemort, and neither should any of you. Fear is a powerful weapon; we shouldn't give him anything we don't have to."
Ginny and Dobby both stared at Harry with looks of awestruck adoration on their faces.
Dobby winced, but leaned forwards, his ears perking up as his eyes went as wide as head lamps. "Dobby heard stories that Harry Potter met The Dark Lord for a second time just weeks ago." Ginny gasped, gaping like a fish as she looked upon him. He didn't look at her, instead narrowing his eyes at the elf in front of him. "Dobby heard that Harry Potter managed to escape The Dark Lord again."
"How would you know of tha even if it did happent?" Asked Harry, his suspicion growing by the second.
"Dobby's masters hear things sir. They are very important people sir." He leaned even further forward. "Is it true?"
"Perhaps," he said evasively, but he instantly knew that both Ginny and Dobby had taken his avoidance of the question as confirmation.
'Slick Potter, real slick.'
"Harry Potter is valiant and bold!" Proclaimed Dobby, wiping his eyes on the edges of the filthy pillowcase he wore. "He has faced grave dangers already, but Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him even if he has to shut his ears in the oven door later. Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts!"
There was a silence so heavy that somebody in the room may have just fallen dead on the floor. "W-what?" Harry stammered. "You're off your rocker." He said with a shake of his head. "there's nothing you can tell me that will make me not go to Hogwarts." He said defiantly. Hogwarts was his real home, he would never abandon the castle.
"No, no, no!" Whaled Dobby, shaking his head so fast his ears flapped. "Harry Potter must stay where he is safe! He is too great, too good to lose! If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts he will be in mortal danger!"
"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously.
'This elf knows way too much for my liking.'
"There's a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most horrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year." Whispered Dobby, suddenly shaking all over. "Harry Potter must not put himself in peril sir. He is too important."
"What horrible things?" Pressed Harry, his voice soft but demanding, still doing his best to imitate his headmaster. "Who's plotting them?"
Dobby made a funny choking noise and began smashing his head off of the floor, causing Ginny to squeak again.
'His masters then,' thought Harry, 'or somebody associated with them.'
"Alright," said Harry, grabbing the elf's arm and physically restraining him, "I get it, you can't tell me, but why are you warning me in the first place?" A sudden thought struck him. "This doesn't have anything to do with Voldemort, does it?" Both Ginny and the elf flinched horribly, but Harry ignored the both of them. "You can just shake or nod your head." He added.
Slowly, Dobby shook his head. "Not-not… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sir." But Dobby's eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give Harry a hint.
'Odd to emphasize his title like that. Somebody associated with him maybe? A former Death Eater?'
"I don't see who else has a chance of screwing around at Hogwarts with Dumbledore there." Harry said honestly. The man had slipped up last year but even then, he had, in a sense, been in control of the situation.
Dobby shook his head. "Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen. Dobby has heard that his powers rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his power, but there are powers Albus Dumbledore does not have sir."
Harry shook his head. He would have thought this whole thing some elaborate prank from Malfoy, or one of the other purebloods rich enough to own a house elf if the elf in question had not appeared to know so much. "I'll take my chances." He said with some finality. "If that's all, you can go Dobby."
The elf's ears drooped as he stared sadly up at Harry. "Don't say that Dobby did not warn you, sir." He said sadly, and with a loud CRACK, he disappeared. Harry sighed and turned to Ginny.
"I need you to promise me that none of what just happened or what was just said will leave this room." The intensity in his voice took her aback as her eyes widened.
"B-but should-shouldn't somebody know if there is going to be danger at Hogwarts?"
"Someone will know," assured Harry, "I'll tell Dumbledore himself the first chance I get, but none of this can leave the room, Ginny! Can you please promise me that?" His eyes were practically begging and Harry saw something soften in the younger girl's gaze as she nodded.
"I'll make an oath if you want." She offered, but Harry shook his head.
"That's not necessary," he dismissed, "just your word is enough for me, but when I say you can't tell ANYBODY, that includes your family."
"I promise I won't tell anybody!" She agreed forcefully, not even hesitating for a second. Harry smiled, finally waving his wand towards the stairs once more and dispelling the silencing charm he had placed upon them.
"Thank you," he said, finishing the last few bites of his now cold eggs before getting to his feet and making his way outside towards the broom closet that contained both of his broomsticks.
'I need to think.'
August 11th 1992.
The Leaky Cauldron.
10:59 AM.
The week that followed the unexpected arrival of the elf was one of normality for Harry. He spent a lot of time locked up in his shared room practicing magic, driven even further down his path of motivation by the elf's ominous warning, a warning that he had long since decided had more than a fair possibility of being legitimate. He had still yet to manage silent casting despite his efforts, though his progress in other areas had been encouraging. He had mastered much of the third year school curriculum now and was nearing its end. On top of that, his sessions with Moody were going better and better each time, and he had opened another cut on the old auror during their last practice, even if such a thing had earned him a rather rough banishing charm that had sent him crashing into the wall, a charm he was now determined to learn despite it being fourth year level.
When he wasn't practicing on his own or training with Moody, he was in the company of Ron and Neville, often joined by the twins in the air on broomsticks as they exalted in their games of Quidditch, something elevated to even greater heights by the sheer joy one of the others received every time Harry allowed one of them to use his Nimbus 2000 while he broke in the 2001. The handling on the two brooms was much the same, though the sheer acceleration and top end speed had been a focus in the production of the new broom, and such attention to these things were displayed quite beautifully by the drastic difference in these characteristics between the two state of the art broomsticks.
They had received their Hogwarts letters too; the owls dropped them off not hours after Harry's conversation with the mysterious house elf known only to him as Dobby. Whomever the new Defense professor was, they clearly had a serious obsession with Gilderoy Lockhart, a man who was apparently fabled for his deeds all across the United Kingdom. This seeming obsession had immediately ingratiated this new person to Mrs. Weasley, who had almost forgot how many galleons she would have to try and fork out for the books in her haste to gush about how much they would learn from examining the man's work.
Harry had been planning on simply owl ordering his books, but Ron insisted that he would go to the alley with them, and when Dean had sent a letter asking when and if they could meet up, Harry had found that his hands had been well and truly tied.
It was this letter as well as a few others that found Harry, Neville and the Weasleys making their way out the back of The Leaky Cauldron with Dean in tow, who was chattering away to Harry, Ron and Neville about his last two weeks of holidays.
When they entered the lobby of Gringotts, Dean spent several minutes exchanging the muggle money his parents had given him for golden galleons, silver sickles and bronze Knuts before they all piled into the large cart and were swiftly on their way down the sloping passageways. The first vault they came to was that of the Weasleys, and Harry felt a pang in his chest when Mrs. Weasley straightened up to reveal that after everything she had gathered up, there was but a single golden galleon remaining in the vault. He had tried to offer to pay, but she had quickly shot the idea down with vehemence, something that made him shut his mouth rather quickly, though it did earn him grateful, if not sad smiles from Ron and the twins.
His guilt only served to increase when they reached his trust vault and piles of golden galleons reached high towards the ceiling. He noticed something else too though, something that got his attention. It was sitting right near the door and if he were being honest, Harry had no idea how he had not seen the thick looking notebook before now. He scooped it up curiously, quickly stuffing it into his bottomless backpack before anyone else could notice it.
'Something to look at later.'
Neville retrieved a similar amount of money from his family vault several minutes later and they all made their way back up to the surface.
From there, they all went to Madam Malkin's, with the older boys simply requesting newer, larger versions of the robes they already had while Ginny was fitted with her Hogwarts robes for the first time. After this they split up, with Harry, Ron and Dean going off with Mr. Weasley to the apothecary while Fred, George and Ginny went off to Ollivander's to fit Ginny with her new wand. Harry figured Mrs. Weasley insisted on the twins accompanying her to keep them out of trouble while the rest of them bought everyone's necessary potions ingredients.
It didn't take long for their trip to come to its conclusion and before they knew it, they were approaching a Flourish and Blotts that seemed to be positively buzzing with people as they tried to locate Mrs. Weasley, Ginny and the twins through the chaos of the surging crowds. The reason for the unexpected crowds became rather evident as they approached the shop, as large posters of a smiling face were plastered along side signs reading:
Gilderoy Lockhart Will Be Signing Copies of His Autobiography, Magical Me Today Between 9:30 and 3:30.
"Might be cool to meet him." Commented Dean as they slowly began to make headway towards the doors. "I mean, he's written like — the whole book list and apparently he's done a bunch of incredible stuff, hasn't he?"
"Apparently." Agreed Harry, who refused to believe that anyone with such a pompous smile could be anything less than useless or evil.
It took them an age to enter the shop, as witches, seeming to mostly be around Mrs. Weasley's age, were shoving anyone in their way like mad to get to the door, completely ignoring the scolding they were getting from the owner of the shop, who was trying in vain to keep the crowd calm around his priceless collection of books.
They spotted Mrs. Weasley with the twins and Ginny up ahead in the line and, grabbing copies of some of Lockhart's books as they went, managed to squeeze into line beside them.
Mrs. Weasley looked rather flustered as she made furious attempts to pat her hair down. "Oh, there you are! We'll get to see him in a minute!" Fred and George rolled their eyes at the quartet behind their mother's back and caused the four of them to smirk while Mr. Weasley smiled indulgently at his wife.
Slowly, Lockhart's form came into focus. He was sitting at a table surrounded by beaming pictures of his own face, something that Harry thought was a bit narcissistic, but he did not dare comment in front of Ron's mother. The real Lockhart was wearing a set of forget me not blue robes that matched his eyes perfectly and he wore his wizard's hat in a lazy manner that suited his long, wavy hair. A short irritable looking man was dancing around and taking photos with a rather obnoxious looking camera.
"Out of the way!" Said the man as he forcefully shoved Ron out of his shot. "This is for The Daily Prophet."
"Big deal!" Said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it. What would turn out to be unfortunate news for Harry happened in that instant, as Gilderoy Lockhart had heard him and looked over towards their group with narrowed eyes, eyes that suddenly widened when they rested upon Harry.
'Damn, stupid scar must be showing. Guess someone messed up my hair while I was trying to get in here.'
In an instant, Lockhart was on his feet, his eyes transfixed on Harry as his face split into an ear to ear grin as he cried loud enough for everyone gathered to hear. "It can't be! Harry Potter!" The crowd parted, whispering excitedly. Lockhart lunged forward, seized hold of Harry's arm and dragged him up to the front. He saw Ron make to intervene but shot him a "don't bother" look. Augusta would want him to handle the publicity, not avoid it, and he figured it was best to just get such things over with.
The photographer was clicking away madly as Lockhart shook Harry's hand exaggeratedly for the camera and the crowd clapped in the background. "Nice big smile Harry!" Said Lockhart through his own gleaming teeth. "Together, you and I are worth the front page!"
'I would have no problem making the front page on my own, thanks.'
When he finally let go of Harry's hand, he could hardly feel his fingers. He finally attempted an escape but it was in vain, as Lockhart through his arm around Harry's shoulders in an effort to stop him getting to the Weasleys, not noticing nor caring when Harry stiffened for a few tense moments.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, waving for quiet, "what an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time, as a matter of fact. When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography..."
'Nope, I wanted to buy a lot more than that, but only because our defense professor is some sort of fan-' and then it clicked. 'Oh, you've got to be kidding me!' He thought as he realized what Lockhart would say a moment before he said it.
"...which I will be happy to present him now, free of charge!" The crowd applauded again. "He had no idea that he would shortly be getting much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his school fellows will in fact be getting the real magical me. Yes ladies and gentlemen! I have great honour and pride in saying that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
'Well, we'll soon know if you really can break curses.' Thought Harry as the crowd cheered and applauded. 'I bet not.'
Harry barely managed to stagger out of the center of the bookstore under the weight of Lockhart's full collection, which had been practically shoved into his arms by the man himself just moments after his big announcement. Harry made his way to the edge of the room where Ginny was standing with her new cauldron, the thought of the measly sum remaining in the Weasley's vault flooding his mind.
"You have these," he told her, tipping his books into the cauldron, "I'll buy my own."
"Bet you loved that, didn't you Potter?" Said a voice that Harry had no trouble recognizing. He straightened up and found himself staring at Draco Malfoy, though his usual bodyguards were absent. Unfortunately for Harry, he had a substitute, as his mother stood behind him, her hand resting firmly upon her son's shoulder. "Famous Harry Potter," said Malfoy, "can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."
"Leave him alone! He didn't want all that!" Spat Ginny. She was glaring hatefully at the blonde Slytherin.
"Potter," drawled Malfoy, "you've got yourself a girlfriend."
Ginny flushed red but Harry was unphased. "Well, that's more than you'll ever be able to say, so I would shut up if I were you."
Malfoy sneered contemptuously. "I am the Heir of The Ancient and Most Noble House of Malfoy. I will have whichever witch I would like."
"Well, I congratulate you for being born. And of course, any witch in the world that accepts large scale bribes will be yours for the taking. How silly of me to forget."
Harry heard a snort from behind him as Ron, Dean and Neville stepped up beside him. "Not so fun when the game is turned on you, is it Malfoy?" Asked Neville with more contempt than Harry had ever heard in his voice.
"Yeah, bet you're surprised to see Harry here." Noted Ron.
"Not as surprised as I am to see you two in a bookstore, Weasley." Quipped Malfoy. "I'm not sure squibs can read, and I imagine your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for that lot."
Ron made to start forward but Narcissa raised her free hand and he faltered. "If you attempt to place one hand on my son, I will make sure that you fail to continue both your education and your relationships." Ron seemed to falter but Harry just glared at her.
'What is it with you and threats?'
"Harry, Ron, what are you doing?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she stepped forward, Mr. Weasley and the twins alongside her. She spotted Narcissa and shot her a rather ugly scowl. "Oh, you."
Narcissa quirked a perfect brow, looking down at the shorter woman as if she were a rather offensive spec of dirt. "Me." She commented neutrally.
"Why are you harassing my son and his friends?" Molly asked a bit heatedly. Before Narcissa could answer though, a new voice spoke, one that practically screamed of wealth, control and aristocracy.
"It would be appreciated if you did not hurl baseless accusations at my wife, Weasley." A tall, thin man with long, wavy platinum blonde hair stepped forward and rested his hand on Draco's other shoulder. Harry noticed that the eyes that he now guessed belonged to Lucius Malfoy matched those of his son perfectly.
"Baseless?" Hissed Mrs. Weasley, but her husband rested a firm hand on her arm.
"Molly, that's enough."
Mr. Malfoy's lips twitched. "Well, well, well, and if it isn't Arthur Weasley; far more intelligent than I would have given you credit for, Arthur. Clearly your workload as of late has not dampened your judgement." His eyes flickered to Dean. "Or perhaps — it has." Arthur's jaw tensed. "All those raids, your name all over the paper, yet still you keep such despicable company." He shook his head with a sneer. "I hope they are at least paying you well for disgracing the name of wizard."
"Clearly not." Said Narcissa with a small smile, reaching into Ginny's cauldron suddenly and removing a battered guide to Magical Theory.
Arthur ignored Narcissa and kept his eyes fixed firmly on Lucius. "We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of a wizard, Malfoy."
"Clearly," drawled Lucius, his eyes honing in once more on Dean, "one of us is enthralled by the presence of mudbloods, while the other-" But he never finished his thought. Mr. Weasley suddenly detached himself from his wife and lunged at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backwards as the two collided with a bookshelf and went down swinging.
"Get 'em dad!" Cried the twins in unison, but Harry's eyes were on Narcissa, who had quickly gone for her wand. Harry stepped forward on instinct, summoning his own holly wand from its holster and facing the other woman with a steely gaze. Neither of them so much as moved until finally, a booming voice resonated through the bookstore.
"Brake it up there gents! Break it up!" Both Harry and Narcissa's attention was diverted when Hagrid forcefully ripped Mr.'s Malfoy and Weasley apart, the former staggered towards his wife while the latter wiped blood from his bleeding nose. Narcissa sneered and dropped the book back into Ginny's cauldron, though Harry could have swore he saw the merest ghost of a smile flash across her lips.
"Narcissa, Draco, we are leaving!" Pronounced Lucius, not even waiting for their replies as he stormed towards the door. Neither Draco nor Narcissa questioned him, though the latter threw an odd, calculating look at Harry as she swept after her husband and son.
Harry was left with the odd, worrying feeling that despite the obvious gravity of the confrontation, he had somehow missed the most important element of it all.
August 11th 1992.
The Burrow.
11:34 PM.
Harry stared in awe at what he had thought to have been a large notebook that now lay in his lap. As much as he craved knowledge, this was far more valuable to him than any notebook could ever be. Instead of a notebook, it was an impossibly long diary, one that seemed to span over a fairly significant number of years. The important thing to Harry though was not as much the nature of the book as the name on the cover:
Lily Evans.
The first entry appeared to be from the year of 1970, while the last seemed to be the summer of 1981. That meant that there were eleven years of tidbits related to his mother and likely his father as well written within the pages of this diary, and beyond that, his mother had continued it up until the very end.
'She must have wanted me to have it.'
He could think of no other reason why the book had been left in his trust vault, so close to the door at that, and he failed too to see how he had missed it during his previous visit last summer.
He took a deep breath; he had spent a lot of time studying that day, driven on by the confrontation with Narcissa but now, he thought he deserved a break, at least for this.
Little did Harry Potter know that he was not the only one pouring over a diary within The Burrow at that exact moment. Unfortunately for him though, not all such books carried the same, innocent qualities as the one that had once belonged to his mother.
Ginny had just copied the last of the encounter with Harry and the Malfoys into the new diary that had miraculously ended up in her cauldron as she sighed. She had never considered a diary before, it would have been foolish to waste precious money on such material things, but now, Ginny found the venting and recapping thoroughly relieving and liberating, even if it could only be done in writing.
She smiled down at the small book in her lap, only to gasp in shock when words began to write themselves onto the same paper, right where hers had been just moments earlier.
Wow! It seems as if you have had quite the day, does it not?
Ginny stared in wonderment at the book as she tentatively reached for her quill. She could vaguely remember her father saying something about not trusting anything that could think for itself without apparent reason, but she hardly considered such a small thing as a diary to be dangerous.
How do you write back to me?
This time she watched, transfixed as her words seemed to sink into the book, only to be replaced with the reply only moments later.
Such a surprisingly complicated question. I suppose the best and most simple way to answer is merely to say magic.
Are you enchanted?
In a sense, I suppose.
So, someone put a spell on you to write back to whoever wrote in you?
This time, there was a moment's pause before the reply came.
Both correct and so far from the truth. I am no generic enchantment; I am the likeness of the last person to own this diary. I answer you exactly as he would, for I am him in every sense of the word.
Ginny flipped to the front of the book and read the name before writing.
So, you're Tom Marvolo Riddle?
This time, the reply was much faster.
At your service; I would say in the flesh, though I suppose such phrases would not be apt for this situation.
There was another pause before a new message replaced the previous.
And who is it that Tom Marvolo Riddle has the pleasure of speaking too after so many years?
Ginny Weasley.
Ginny? A nice name, even if I am sure it is short for something you dislike.
Ginny smiled. She had never much liked the name, though the simple praise of it brightened her spirits as a new message was making itself present.
I think we can become rather good friends, Ginny. Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?
She hesitated as the words of her father came back to her.
'Something doesn't seem right here.'
I've been told not to trust something that can think for itself.
The reply was much quicker this time, though once it faded, its own reply was the longest yet.
Have you now? Well, in most circumstances, that is probably sound advice, though I assure you, I have only true intentions. If it makes you feel any better, I can go first if you would like?
And it began. Ginny was up late that night, learning all about the sixteen year old Slytherin prefect who had been touted as a genius. A boy who had been born into nothing and wanted above all to make something of himself. His story nearly brought her to tears and by the end of the night, Ginny found that she had very little reluctance in spilling her secrets to Tom, though he would have to wait for another day, as she was quite tired.
As she lay her head on her pillow to sleep, she did not notice the almost inaudible quiver of the diary on her desk.
Authors Endnote:
See, not too bad of a cliffy, eh?
No cliffhanger next time, I promise!
On that note, next up, Hogwarts!
Please read and review.
PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, March 29th 2020 at approximately 3:00 PM.
