Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter. Therefore, all of this incredible universe where this fanfiction will take place belongs to J. K. Rowling. No profit, except my entertainment, is being made.
Request: As I'm from Brazil, English is not my first language, so the story contains some grammar mistakes. Therefore, I'm searching for a beta. If anyone is willing to try and give me some help, please send me a PM.
About my Disappearance: Basically, I got a bit caught up in college with my final exams and, later, I had to undergo a simple surgery in my hands. So I decided to take a break from my computer because it sucks to type with stitches in your hand. Now, hopefully, I'll be able to come back to the regular updates of this fic.
Thank you for all the comments, favourites and follows!
Confiscated and Highly Dangerous
Hardin was having a bad day and the fact he had been spending his entire morning teaching a bunch of dunderheads in exchange for a few sickles wasn't making his mood any better.
At the furthest table of the Hogwarts' library, Hardin was silently working on his Defence Against the Dark Arts' assignment about the differences between an Inferius and a Zombie, while Christopher Allen - a Hufflepuff first-year - was trying to answer a few Astronomy questions Hardin had prepared for him as a form of revision for their exams.
Christopher was one of the many students Hardin had, now, started to tutor. Obviously, Hardin wasn't doing this out of the kindness of his heart - especially because he doubted he had any - but because he had seen the opportunity in making some money by helping his year mates for their end of term final exams, which were only a couple of months away. Well, he wasn't surprised that many students had ignored most subjects to focus on the ones they were better at - they were kids, after all.
"Hardin,"
"Yes?" He said, taking his eyes off his essay, "Have you finished?"
"Not quite," Christopher said, scratching the back of his hair, "Huh, well, the difference between planets and stars is that planets only make the direct motion, while stars make the direct and retrograde motion, right?"
"No, it's the opposite," Hardin said, taking a deep breath and explaining for the third time, although it felt like the tenth. "Planets go direct and retrograde. Stars only go direct."
Christopher frowned.
"Come on, Chris. We've talked about it."
"Why do I even need to know this? This is pure rubbish."
The honest reply would be that Christopher needed to learn this because, if he didn't, Hardin wouldn't receive his sickles. However, he forced himself to say, "It's important for dozens of branches of magic, such as Herbology, Alchemy, Potions... Potions. You like Potions, don't you?"
"I like the subject Potions, not the class Potions."
"Well, no one likes Snape - not even us, the Slytherins," He said, thinking more about his opinions rather than the rest of the Slytherins students, "There are some potions you can only brew properly during a specific phase of the moon, such as the Wolfsbane Potion. Others will only work if you prepare them during the moment of conjunction. There are plenty of usages."
Christopher sighed, "I only wish it was easier."
Well, he wished his life was easier, but this wasn't about to happen, was it?
For what felt like ages, but it was only an hour, Hardin stayed inside the library answering every single question Christopher made him. Teaching him Astronomy was as hard as explaining something about Herbology to Ren - which meant a troll could learn faster.
As he moved towards the common room, his hypothesis that the universe had something against him was confirmed. Between all the people in Hogwarts he could've crashed into, why did it have to be Bedivere? How much bad luck can a person have?
"Look where you're going, mudblood," Bedivere said, as if he was spitting the last word, "It's already awful that they accept your sort here and that you are disgracing the name of Salazar Slytherin. Now you can't even walk properly. It's a wonder how you can even make magic."
Ah, yes, Bedivere had found out that he had grown up in the Muggle World during Easter. And he had no clue on how he had done so. The few people that knew about it were Professor McGonagall, Mr Burke and Ren, and he doubted one of them had spoken about it to Bedivere.
Since then, his life in Slytherin had changed a bit – for worse, of course. At least, his relationship with the people in his year hadn't changed much.
"If you weren't with your bloody head down, looking to this stupid book of yours, we-"
"Stupid book of yours?" Bedivere repeated as if he couldn't believe what Hardin had said, "I knew you were dense, Sayre. What else can you expect from a mudblood? But this is too much. Calling a grimoire stupid?"
Hardin frowned. He had heard this name before, but he couldn't recall what it meant, which was strange, as he was really good at memorising things about magic.
"You don't know what a grimoire is, do you, Sayre?" Bedivere asked with a mean smile on his face, "But I guess I'm the one to blame. I was expecting too much from a mudblood. How can someone who doesn't have family know about a family book of magic?"
"I guess it's not helping you much, as you can hardly perform any spell. Have you already learned to cast the Wand-Lighting Charm, Benny? Or is it too much for you?"
Bedivere got a bit closer to him and said, threateningly, "You know, Sayre, you are starting to act a lot like Reynard. But remember that Reynard is a Burke and for more disgraceful his family is-"
"Funny to hear you talking about disgrace. I heard your father is considered one. Can't even get inside the Knockturn Alley, banned from the Tote Alley and, of course, his biggest trait, being a snitch."
Bedivere pushed him so quickly that he couldn't defend himself and ended up falling to the ground. Well, honestly, it wasn't like he could physically win a fight against Bedivere, but perhaps, he could've dodged it.
"You've been warned, Sayre. Never forget that you are alone. My family could be the worst one in the entire Wizarding World, but I'll still have them to support me. Whereas you will always have nothing." Bedivere said darkly, "A bloody orphan, son to a muggle and blood traitor. Pathetic. You'd be better off dead, you know."
Hardin didn't even try to reply, merely watched Bedivere disappearing into the crowded corridors. The thought about cursing him from behind his back crossed his mind more than once, but the fact Professor Snape was nearby made him give up the idea. If Professor Snape caught him cursing Bedivere, he'd be serving detention until he graduated Hogwarts. Apparently, Professor Snape had a soft spot for kids whose parents were Death Eaters - perhaps they were his old friends from the time serving Voldemort.
He got up from the floor, collected his materials, and proceeded to walk towards the common room, hoping not to find anyone else on his way. He couldn't wait for the end of the term to arrive and finally be set free from Bedivere's presence.
As June arrived, Hardin went to the Charms classroom to meet up with Professor Flitwick and clear his doubts, as they did at the beginning of each month. Basically, Hardin would simply ask him to help him to understand the theory, hand him some extra topics to work with or clear his doubts about a spell's performance.
Hardin looked attentively at the training dummy in front of him, visualised the wand in its hands and took a deep breath. This time, he would get the spell right.
With a flick of his wand, he said, "Expelliarmus!"
He watched as the spell left his wand, hit the dummy, making the wand be thrown far away but also causing the dummy to crash against the wall. Once more, he hadn't been able to cast the spell correctly.
Frustrated, he sighed and looked at where Professor Flitwick was silently observing him as if he was an interesting puzzle.
"I got it wrong again," Hardin said, or better, complained.
"Mr Sayre, you are doing great for your age," Professor Flitwick said calmly, "Don't be too harsh wi-"
"I ain't being harsh with myself." He said quickly, "I've spent weeks trying to get it right, but I can't. I'm pathetic."
As soon as the words left his mouth, he regrated them. Sometimes he'd speak way too much when he was angry.
Professor Flitwick looked at him disapprovingly, "Pathetic, you say. I can assure you aren't pathetic, Mr Sayre. You are definitely one of the most brilliant students I've ever had. If you weren't, you wouldn't be working with second-year's spells while still in the first year. Nor would I waste my time discussing theory with you if it was true."
"Then why can't I get it right?"
"Because of your attitude."
"My attitude?"
"Yes, your attitude, such as you've just demonstrated." Professor Flitwick said, getting out of his pile of books, to sit in a chair close by, making a sign for him to do the same, "What do I always tell you?"
Hardin shrugged, "That magic is sentient?"
"Precisely. And what else?"
"That it isn't foolproof."
"Correct, once again," Professor Flitwick said. Then, he removed his wand and with a flick, he disarmed one of the dummies, and, with a switch, he made the other dummy crash against the wall. "Can you tell me what's the difference between the spells?"
"The first was a Disarming Charm and the other a Knockback Jinx."
"You've named them, but you didn't answer my question."
"Well, they have different purposes,"
"Elaborate,"
"They have different purposes because... the people who created them had different objectives to be reached?" Hardin said, sounding more like a question rather than an answer. Professor Flitwick made a gesture for him to keep talking, "Huh, the Disarming Charm, obviously, it's a charm, which isn't meant to cause any sort of harm. While the Knockback Jinx It's a jinx, so its aim is to, on some level, harm the opponent."
"Now, why do you think your Disarming Charm is not working as a charm but as a jinx?"
'If I knew, I wouldn't need your help,' Hardin thought but said, "My attitude, as you've said."
Professor Flitwick smiled kindly, "And what do you think it's wrong with your attitude that might be affecting your spellwork?"
"I don't know, sir."
"You are angry, Mr Sayre."
"Angry?" He asked, a bit confused. Hardin knew, for months, that he had been angry for countless reasons. He was angry with the Potters, with Bedivere for telling everyone he had been raised in the Muggle World, for not getting spells right, with Professor Snape...The only thing he wasn't angry about was being in Hogwarts. "Considering these are offensive spells, shouldn't they be charged with my emotion?"
"Ah, I see you've already read about the relation between emotion and Charms. Always in front of your age, aren't you, Mr Sayre?" Professor Flitwick said, "You are, in parts, correct. Offensive spells normally work better when charged by emotion. However, your mistake is thinking that a Disarming Charm is an offensive spell."
He frowned, "It isn't? It's covered in that duelling book you gave me for Christmas."
"You've said it yourself, Mr Sayre. The Disarming Charm wasn't made to cause any sort of harm but to prevent it." Professor Flitwick said, "Think about it. It's a spell capable of removing one's wand, which, normally, prevents regular wizards from performing magic. You could use, perhaps, a Stunner or a Full Body-Bind Curse to prevent one from performing magic, but you've chosen to use the most harmless combative spell there is." He made a pause, "The objective of the Disarming Charm isn't causing harm, but preventing any harm to be done. It's more defensive than offensive if you think about it."
"Alright." He said, though it didn't make much sense in his head, "But why does this matter?"
"It matters because magic is sentient but isn't foolproof." He continued, "By using anger and trying to use the Disarming Charm with the intent of causing harm, you are confusing magic because this isn't the purpose of the spell. Therefore, as always, magic tries to give the caster what he is looking for and, what you are looking for, is violence. Thus, instead of making only the disarm, magic tries to fulfil your wishes by adding a distortion of the Knockback Curse in your spell."
"So, I've created a variant of the Disarming Charm?" Hardin asked, thrilled with the idea of creating his first spell.
"You've created nothing. You've just been one of the thousands that haven't been able to master the charm." Professor Flitwick said quite shortly, "You might think the way your spell is working it's more useful because it can cause harm, but this is only a reminder of your mistake." With a gesture of his wand, he made all the dummies come back to their original place, "We, wizards and witches, for centuries have been trying to master magic and control it because magic without precision is incredibly dangerous, for it is random and uncontrolled."
"Which means?"
"You shouldn't be excited that your mistake is, in your opinion, more interesting than the spell should. Know, instead, that this uncontrolled magic is potentially harmful and that you have to master the correct spell."
"What do I have to do then?"
"Talk and rest."
Hardin frowned, "Talk and rest?"
"Yes. Talk for your mind to calm down and rest for your body to recover. You know more theory than most of my third-year students, Mr Sayre, and have more control over your magic than it should be possible for your age." Professor Flitwick said, "Your problem is not in the wand, Mr Sayre, but in here, your mind."
In Hardin's opinion, Professor Flitwick was spending too much time with the Headmaster - both talked little, meaning too much.
"What about my Latin? Did you have time to read my essay?"
Professor Flitwick looked a bit disappointed about the switch on the topic but replied, "It has improved greatly, Mr Sayre. I found a few mistakes regarding the conjugation of a couple of words, but, overall, it's great for someone with less than six months of learning."
They later talked about Latin, pronunciation of words and Professor Flitwick, as always, gave him a list of things for him to work out during the month. Although, this time, he didn't give him any spells to learn the theory - so he could rest his mind for a bit.
Minutes later, Professor Flitwick removed a pocket watch, saying, "Ah, I'm afraid we might have missed lunch, Mr Sayre. One hour too late."
"I'm sorry, sir, didn't mean to bother you for long,"
"That's hardly a problem, Mr Sayre. You never bother me. I'll go to Hogsmeade to eat something." Professor Flitwick said, already getting his money porch from the table, "Whereas you might try getting some food from the elves in the kitchen. Do you know where it is?"
"No, sir."
"Do you know that bright corridor in the dungeons, filled with food paintings?"
"Yes,"
"You shall go to that corridor. There you'll find a painting of a fruit bowl. If you tickle the pear, it'll giggle, and you'll gain access to the kitchen." He explained, already walking out of the classroom, "The elves will be more than delighted to serve you some food."
"Alright." He said, "Thank you for your time, sir."
"It was a pleasure, Mr Sayre." Professor Flitwick said, "If you could do me a favour, keep in mind what I've told you, please. Talk and rest. These two things can do wonders."
Hardin watched the tiny master disappear from the hall. Professor Flitwick was likely the only adult he had ever had a good relationship with. He was never too busy to answer his questions, help him with Latin or with the spells he was struggling with. And, Hardin dared to say that Professor Flitwick liked him as well.
However, at times, he would get a little annoyed about how much Professor Flitwick tried to get in his private life. Why couldn't he just keep talking about Charms? Why did he have to try to help his social life? Or give him advice such as talk and rest? Hardin knew he meant well, but he had no idea of his problems to suggest such simple solutions.
Honestly, how could talking help him deal with the pain he felt daily? And rest? He rested enough. Four or five hours of sleep were great, right?
Moved by his hunger, Hardin started to walk towards the corridor Professor Flitwick had talked about, hoping that if he indeed reached the kitchens, he'd manage to get some treacle tart. He did as he was instructed - not even questioning why tickling a pear would give him access - and the portrait quickly opened into a passage.
The elves quickly got around him, offering to help with anything he needed and, after he asked for a meal, they couldn't be more delighted. Elves were the strangest creatures, in his opinion. After all, everyone would prefer to rule instead of serving, yet, the elves seemed happy with the life they got. No matter how much time passed by, this would never make sense for him.
After the elves got away from him, he realised he wasn't the only student in the kitchen. He now had the company of Daphne Greengrass, a girl he had tried to avoid like a plague during most part of their year.
She wasn't a bad person - far from it, actually. But, she had decided to walk around Victoria Wright, consequently becoming an outcast in Slytherin. And, as he had no desire to place himself in more problems, he had taken his distance from her and Wright.
Now, ever since Bedivere, somehow, discovered he had grown up in the Muggle World, he had become an outcast himself. Of course, the people in his year - such as Ren and Alyssa - still talked with him, but it was hard not to notice the change of behaviour in the upper years. So, him mistreating her and Victoria had been extremely pointless.
"Daphne," He said, "Would you mind if I sat with you?"
"Suit yourself," She said, not even taking her eyes off the letter she was reading.
Normally, he would rather spend his meals in silence, but today, probably due to Professor Flitwick's words, he wanted to talk. Therefore, he asked, "How did you learn about the kitchens?"
"My..." Her voice failed for a moment, but she quickly corrected it, "My father is a Hufflepuff and, well, he used to say that every praise-worthy Hufflepuff knows how to find the kitchen...It was the first thing he told me after I got my letter."
He scratched the back of his head, saying, "I'm sorry for your father...Huh, Alyssa mentioned you spent the holidays with her."
She simply nodded in silence.
"If you don't mind me asking about it, why didn't you stay with Wright instead of Alyssa? I thought she was your best friend."
"You can call her Victoria, you know. No one is here to tell Bedivere you've acted like a decent person." She said, visibly annoyed, "Honestly, you all say her name as if it's some sort of plague. She's just like anyone else."
Perhaps he was getting a bit soft because he was certain that he wouldn't allow someone to talk like this a few days ago. Or, maybe, he did have feelings and was being tolerant because her father was in the hospital.
"Fine," He said, "Why didn't you stay over with Victoria's family?"
"Mrs Rosier had volunteered to shelter me first. If I declined it and went to Victoria's house instead, it would be seen as an insult."
After that, she stayed in silence, reading her letter once again. This had been the longest conversation he had shared with Daphne ever since Hogwarts had started. She seemed to be a nice person and it wasn't for lack of opportunities that they hadn't spoken. No, it had been due to Wright - Victoria, whatever.
It had never made sense to him why Daphne had decided to befriend her. Everyone knew that sticking up with Wright was the easiest way to destroy a reputation in Slytherin, yet, Daphne had decided to do it.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Now that Bedivere is calling you a mudblood too, you are quite talkative, aren't ya?" Daphne murmured, in a way that weirdly reminded him of Alyssa, whenever she was mad with something.
Well, he knew he had acted like a jerk with her during most of the term, but he couldn't help but feel a bit annoyed by her sentence. Though, he guessed he deserved it.
"Can you blame me for not wanting to be bullied by everyone?"
"Oh, come on, you seriously think anyone would do anything against you? They know you are a half-blood now, yet, apart from Bedivere, who else talks about you? No one."
"I don't know why they act differently towards me than they do with her."
"Because you've got Ren to watch your back." She said as if it was obvious, "No one wants to have problems with Burkes, don't you know that?"
"As a matter of fact, I didn't." He said, thinking this explained a lot, "I'm sorry for treating you quite badly-"
"Quite badly?" She asked in a sarcastic tone, "Every time I tried to talk to you, you'd walk away. I asked for your help in class, and you'd pretend you weren't listening to me. And you treated Victoria even worse. Quite badly is a euphemism."
He didn't know what a euphemism was, but he guessed that, in this context, it couldn't mean anything good.
"I know how it feels to be treated this way. I just didn't want my life to repeat itself. So, I'm sorry if I was a brat, but it's not like I could have done much to help you out either."
For a few seconds, she stayed in silence and, then, said, "Did it at least bother you to see her being ridiculed? You two are pretty much the same, you know. Both half-bloods, raised in the Muggle World. If you didn't have-"
"Yeah, I know if I didn't have Ren by my side, I'd be treated just as badly as she is."
"So, did you sympathise with her?" Daphne said, "You always have this serious face on. It's really hard to understand what's going on in your mind."
"I felt sorry for her if that's what you were asking. It's not like we are guilty of which family we belong to, right? Heck, I'd change my family without even thinking twice if I could."
For him, his sentence was totally regular, but the immediate change in Daphne's expression was telling him otherwise.
"If her family is what you think it's wrong," She said as she collected her materials from the table, "Then I feel sorry for you."
Leaving a very confused Hardin behind, Daphne left the kitchen without looking back. What had he said that was so wrong to make her be so angry? Had he, perhaps, offended her without realising? He had no idea.
'That's why you are better by yourself, without this talking nonsense,' He thought, 'People are complicated.'
For most, enjoying a meal alone was depressing. However, for him, it was peaceful. If he had no one by his side, it meant no problem could reach him. As June ended and the final exams approached, those few alone moments became rare since he was spending his free time mostly tutoring his yearmates in whatever they needed - as long as they paid him, of course.
His only free and fun moments were when he was with his friends talking during the meals in the Great Hall. However, today, he had a feeling something was about to go wrong because, for whatever reason, Ren was smiling like a mad man. And Ren smiling always meant trouble - he had learned it the hard way.
"Hardin, you won't believe what happened, mate," Ren said, filled with excitement.
"Try me,"
"Do you remember that grimoire that Bedivere has been showing around since we came back from the Easter break?"
"Yes. How could I forget? He talks about it every single day. "
"Well, not anymore," Ren said, "Guess who just lost it?"
"Are you for real?"
"Of course, I am!" Ren exclaimed, "Can you imagine how much trouble he'll be once his father figures it out? It's like my Christmas present came earlier this year."
Ignoring Ren's daydreaming about getting his nemesis in trouble, he turned to Alyssa and Katherine. Alyssa, for one, seemed as if she was about to cast that Curse of the Bogies they had trained last week on Ren.
"What happened?" He asked the girls.
Katherine looked glad to be asked to spread some gossip.
"Bedivere and Wright were arguing in the halls, as always, and Wright - brilliantly, I must admit - jinxed him. He took his grimoire out and tried to curse her with one of its spells-"
"And that's when Filch appeared and took the book, claiming it was Dark Magic." Alyssa completed in a bored tone of voice, "There you go. Now you know the story. Can we please talk about something else? I've been hearing Ren and Katherine gossiping about it all day long while you were teaching those 'Puffs and Griffins. Next time you leave me with them, Hardin, I'm going to curse you until you have to be sent to the Hospital Wing."
"As if you could curse our Hardin," Ren said, laughing, "Remind me again who lost all of last month's duels, Alyssa."
"You talk about me, but at least I can't cast decent offensive spells, Reynard."
"Don't call me Reynard."
"Sod off, Reynard."
Instead of paying attention to their endless rant, Hardin turned his attention back to his food. He needed to eat fast because soon he'd have to meet with Elizabeth Fawley to help her with Transfiguration in less than an hour.
"Filch caught the grimoire because Bedivere called him a squib when Filch tried to separate him and Wright, if you are wondering," Katherine commented, without taking her eyes off of the discussion happening by her side. She never missed a single thing.
'I was not,' He thought but forced himself to say, "Where's Bedivere now?"
"Locked in the dorm, saying his father is going to kill him." Katherine said as if it was the most regular thing in the world, "Apparently, he stole the grimoire from his father's office to show it to some older students." She snorted, "What an idiot."
"Is that yours?" He asked, pointing to the Daily Prophet by Katherine's side.
"Yes. Wanna take a look?" She said, already handing it to him.
"Thanks."
The first thing that caught his attention in the paper was the front page heading - Rita Skeeter was many bad things, according to Mr Burke, but none could deny she was a talented writer.
Bartemius Crouch: imposing leader or incompetent father?
Is Bartemius Crouch, a man incapable of handling and guiding his murder son, capable enough to succeed Minister Bagnold and guide the Wizarding Britain to the future?
Read more about the Longbottom torture made by Barty Crouch Jr, on page 13.
'Mr Burke wasn't lying when he said he would take care of it,' Hardin thought while reading the heading of the page, remembering the meeting between Mr Burke and Haemon that happened months ago.
In the Wizarding World, the elections had three major periods. The first started in March, with the official launch of the candidates. Later, in May, debates and campaigns would start. Finally, in July, the voting would occur, and the new members of Wizengamot and the Ministry would be chosen.
According to Ren, numbers had magical properties, which was why the third, fifth and seventh months were chosen. But, in his opinion, these dates seemed random. After all, why hold the elections so early if the new Minister would only take his position in the next year?
Wizards seemed to have a weird obsession with the number seven - at least, politically. For instance, the Minister and all of the Wizengamot members served the Ministry for seven years, were elected in the seventh month and could reelect themselves seven times. Although there were only a handful of people that managed to get elected this many times.
Now that the elections were approaching, Mr Burke had started to act. For some unknown reason for Hardin, the man seemed to be on good terms with Rita Skeeter, and they had agreed to help each other by destroying down Crouch's reputation - which wasn't hard to do, considering his son had turned two important aurors insane and was a proud follower of Voldemort.
Besides, the fact that Crouch is the current Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and he has been very inefficient in handling the new vampire, werewolves, banshees and hags attacks happening all over the country and the impossibility of blaming the Knockturn Alley for them - as the dark alley was nearly empty - wasn't exactly doing wonders to his reputation.
Meanwhile, Cornelius Fudge simply existed. He wasn't the most charismatic man in the world, but, so far, no one could find a single bad thing about him, and he had a really good campaign. So, he was gaining popularity.
Hardin flicked through the newspaper, but his attention was dragged away from it once a barn owl left a package and a letter to him. He knew who they were from — literally, the only person that seemed to remember him, Bathilda Bagshot.
He probably would never talk with anyone about this, but he had never felt so important as he did when he received his first letter from her and a gift during Christmas. He had received gifts from his friends, all way more expensive than the simple leather notebook Mrs Bagshot had given him, but this was different. It felt special because she didn't have to try to reach him out after he disappeared from her house to see if he was alright or if he needed something. She could have ignored him as any other adult had done before. But she didn't - and he was really grateful for it.
This time, her letter talked mainly about the Gaunt family.
According to Mrs Bagshot journal, Isolt Sayre was the daughter of Rionach Gaunt and William Sayre, born in the early seventeenth century. Curiously, her parents were murdered by Isolt's aunt, Gormlaith Gaunt, and, many years later, she escaped her aunt and ran away to America, where she created Ivermorny.
Although he knew he was Harry Potter, he was still curious about the Sayre family. After all, why had he gotten this name? There had to be a reason - it couldn't just be a coincidence. So, now, his new objective was to learn about the Gaunts. He just had a feeling that these people were important, which was why he had asked Mrs Bagshot to tell him what she knew about them.
He decided to save this letter for later, as he would probably need too much time to read all of that filled pieces of parchment she had sent him. The package she had sent to him was a box of Cauldron Cakes, containing a note saying 'Good luck on the exams!'.
"Oi, I'm talking to you," Ren said, poking him on the ribs non-stop.
"Stop it," He said, slapping one of Ren's hands, "What do you want?"
"Grandpa is asking me how are you progressing with your special project, whatever this is."
Hardin's special project was learning how deals worked. Ever since he had visited Borgin & Burkes, he had been fascinated by the possibility of being able to assure people from keeping their word or tricking them into making beneficial things for him. However, it was unfortunate that, so far, he hadn't been able to figure out an excuse for making someone willingly sign one of those deals.
Of course, he wasn't trying anything too dangerous as Mr Burke's deals, which could potentially cause the death of his customer. Instead, he was just playing with simple things, such as headaches.
"It's going fine." He replied, "I've managed to enchant the parchment, but I still haven't found someone to try it."
Ren pretty much ignored what he said, by asking, "So, for how long exactly have you been talking with my grandpa without telling me?"
"Ever since those haggs attacks happened in West Country." He replied. Mr Burke didn't lie when he told them that they would soon figure out what Antigone's doing in the West Country. This, alongside the vampire attacks in Kent, the banshees in Ireland, and the werewolves in Yorkshire, were the main topics of the Daily Prophet for weeks.
"Wait," Ren said, as he seemed to be doing the maths, "You've been talking to him since February?"
"Yeah,"
"And you didn't think about telling me?"
"Not really."
Alyssa mocked, "Careful, Ren, he's about to steal your grandpa."
"If he agrees to go to the meetings in my place, we can manage his inclusion in the family," Ren replied jokingly. "How would you feel about that, Hardin? Being a Burke, it's a great honour."
"A great honour for thieves," Alyssa said.
Ren didn't seem to be offended, instead, he smirked and said, "It's still an honour, nonetheless."
After a few more minutes, he said goodbye to his friends and went to meet Elizabeth Fawley in the library. Although he was physically there, his mind was far away, wondering about that talk he had in the kitchen with Daphne - probably because Elizabeth Fawley, Daphne and Wright were quite an inseparable trio.
He had thought a lot about it and he still couldn't point out why what he said had made her so angry. It made zero sense, and he knew he should ignore it, but he couldn't. He hated not knowing things.
"Elizabeth?"
"I already told you, Hardin, you can call me Ellie - everybody does."
"Sure, sorry I forgot it. Huh, can I ask you something?"
"You already have," She said with a smile, "I'm kidding. Go ahead."
"You are friends with Daphne, right?"
"Yeah, we've known each other since we were little."
"Would you mind if I asked if Daphne has mentioned our...meeting in the kitchen?"
She closed her Transfiguration book and looked at him, "What do you want to ask me about it?"
"Why was she so angry with me?"
"You truly don't know?" She asked with a frown. Was it truly so obvious?
"No idea,"
"I'll tell you, but if she asks, I haven't told you anything. Deal?"
"Deal,"
"Because you said that Vic's problem is her family and that your problem is your family. That if you could change this everything would be alright. She said that you are an idiot - and I sort of agree."
Now it was his time to frown. At this point in life, he didn't even care for being offended any longer.
"What do you mean?"
"The problem is not that you or Victoria are half-bloods. The problem is the ideology that makes one believe that a pureblood is superior to a half-blood or muggle-borns." Elizabeth said, "We think you are an idiot because, sometimes, you say and act in a way that seems that you believe in pureblood supremacy. Which doesn't make sense because you are a half-blood."
"I'm not a pureblood supremacist."
"You may not be, but sometimes you talk like one."
"This was the problem? Really?"
"Yeah."
"I thought I had offended her more...directly, you know."
"She probably felt offended because she adores Uncle Byron and Aunt Rachel. They are really lovely people."
It seemed a bit foolish, but he guessed that, in a way, it made a bit of sense. He probably wouldn't like anyone indirectly offending Mrs Bagshot either.
"Thanks for answering me."
"No problem," She said kindly, "Now, can we talk about that mice to snuffbox enchantment? I've never managed to perform it."
"Sure. Well, the enchantment itself is…"
For the rest of the hours he spent in the library, he kept thinking about Mr Burke's advice. Now, he had too many problems going on at once. He needed to erase his problem with Daphne, find a way to make Bedivere shut up, think about where he would stay during the summer break and the Harry Potter situation.
'You are screwed, Harry.' He thought as he realised he had no clue on how to solve either of the problems.
Once the exams arrived, the tension in the air was noticeable. Everyone was worried about their grades but also excited for being closer to the summer break. Overall, he believed he had done really well in every subject, except Potions - but he was positive he would still manage to get an Acceptable from Professor Snape.
As the days passed by, he would constantly think about what Elizabeth had told him. He had realised that his attitudes over the past month hadn't made any sense. He, initially, had decided to stay quiet so the purebloods, such as Bedivere, could accept him, but, by doing so, he had turned his back to so many people that were just like him. And for what? Had he expected that they, the purebloods, would treat him differently? That they wouldn't treat him like rubbish once they found out he had been lying - or better, omitting - his past?
He knew what he had to do: to be on the good side of the half-bloods again. He had a plan in mind, which was incredibly stupid and reckless, but, if it worked properly, his situation with Wright, Daphne, the half-bloods and, hopefully, Bedivere would be solved.
Bedivere Avery was far from being someone looked forward to having a friendship with, but he wasn't someone Hardin fancied to keep fighting with if he had the option not to. If Ren wanted to have a problem with the boy because their parents had some sort of confusion, fine, but he didn't need to follow.
However, he needed a perfect opportunity for it to work and it only appeared during one of his last days in Hogwarts, when he was making his way to the common room to celebrate the end of exams with his friends.
Basically, he saw Argus Filch - and that devious cat of his - taking two students out of a broom cupboard. He waited for the hall to empty itself and then approached the broom cupboard, where Filch was organising the brooms after meeting those teenagers. Filch was so distracted, talking with his cat about how he missed the older forms of punishment for rebellious little shits, that he didn't even notice Hardin's arrival.
Once he was close enough and made sure no one was coming in his direction, Hardin murmured, "Petrificus totalus."
Immediately, Filch's arms and legs snapped together as he fell, stiff as a board. Before Mrs Norris could produce any sound or run, he did the same with her. Although the Full Body-Bind Curse was very useful, it wasn't perfect, as the victim was able to keep their senses and level of conscience. Unfortunately, this would have to be enough, as the Stunning Charm was still a bit above his current capability.
Therefore, using the Severing Charm, Hardin removed a piece of Filch's trouser and used it to cover Filch's and Mrs Norris' eyes. After that, he levitated both of them into the broom cupboard, closed it and then locked it with the strongest charm he could recall.
This had worked better than he had expected.
Honestly, he had always found it a bit stupid that they had hired a squib to make order in a school of magic. After all, if the students wanted to curse him - as Hardin had done now - he couldn't defend himself.
Taking a look to both sides, Hardin left the area, trying to look as casual as possible, aiming for Filch's office. As he walked, he used transfiguration to alter the colour of his school robes, so they would look like they belonged to a Hufflepuff, removed his glasses, and messed up his perfectly combed hair.
Anyone who paid him attention could notice who he really was, but he would look like any regular Hufflepuff for someone far away. And this was good because it would decrease his chances of getting into trouble.
Gathering all of his bravery and making sure no one was around, he moved inside Filch's office, fingers crossed that no one would be inside it.
The area was relatively small, containing only a bed, an old-looking cabinet, a filing cabinet, and the only illumination came from a single oil lamp hanging from the ceiling. The smell of the place was rather odd as it reminded him of fried fish.
He quickly walked towards the filing cabinet, knowing all too well that time currently wasn't his friend. There were multiple tags in each drawer, and he opened the first one that called his attention, which was labelled as Confiscated and Highly Dangerous.
'If the grimoire isn't here, this was a huge waste of time,' He thought while opening it.
He found many interesting items inside the drawer, along with the ancient leather book - Avery's grimoire. There was a Golden Snitch, a large box filled with Stink Pellets, a box with some Wheezing Worms, No-Heat Fireworks, potions vials, some other joke items, and...an old piece of parchment?
'What is this doing here?' He wondered, placing the grimoire inside his bag and getting the parchment in his hands. He couldn't think of a single reason for a parchment to be placed in such a compartment, which was why he decided to keep it. Figuring what this parchment was would be interesting - he was sure of it.
Adjusting his bag and hoping he wouldn't get caught, he slowly opened the door and left the office, never looking back. Once he thought he was safe, he turned his uniform back to its normal colours and placed back his glasses.
As he made his way back to the common room, he found his friends playing Exploding Snap in the corner of the room, but he ignored them and went straight to his dorm, which he soon found out it was locked.
"Bedivere," He called, knocking on the door, "Open the bloody door."
"Sod off, Sayre,"
Honestly, sometimes Hardin wondered if wizards forgot magic existed or if Bedivere was so confident with his spells that it didn't even cross his mind that Hardin could undo whatever he had done in the door. It took some minutes and was definitely more elaborate than Hardin thought Bedivere was capable of, but he unlocked the door without much effort.
He found Bedivere sitting on the stone floor, with many parchments spread across the floor, which Hardin guessed to be letter scratches. It didn't take him long to conclude that Bedivere was trying to figure out the best way to tell his father about what happened before returning to his home. Probably telling in a letter would be easier than doing it face to face.
"How did you pass by the door?"
"Magic, obviously,"
"No shit," Bedivere said sarcastically, "How did you, basically a mudblood, break the defences?"
Hardin snorted, "How did you, a dunderhead, know how to place them, to start with?"
"Unlike you, I grew up with the right sort, not with muggles. So, I know what I'm doing."
"My mother was a witch, I've already told you that," Hardin said, trying to sound as calm as possible, though his heart was racing, "It's not my fault that she liked a muggle."
"Honestly, Sayre, I've got better things to do rather than talking to inferior beings like you."
Hardin was an inch away from walking out and keeping the grimoire for himself, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and calm himself down. Although he didn't want to, he needed to start solving his problems.
"I've heard you lost your family's grimoire a few weeks ago." Hardin said, much to Bedivere's displeasure, "I guess this might be giving you quite a headache. I mean, what will your father say when he learns that you've lost hundreds of years of knowledge?"
"If I were you, Sayre, I would leave the room right now and keep your mouth shut, or else-"
"Or else what?" Hardin asked with a challenging expression, "Will you duel me? I've also heard that Wright kicked not so long ago. If you weren't even capable of winning a duel against Wright, do you seriously think you can take me?"
Bedivere's face had taken a shade of red, looking as angry as ever. If Hardin weren't too sure of what he was doing, he would probably be running out of the room by now. Not because he was scared of what Bedivere could do to him with magic, but because there was no way Hardin could win a physical fight against the burly boy. And, well, considering the distance they were from each other, a good punch would already be enough.
"What do you want, Sayre?"
"Bargain."
Now, it was Bedivere's time to snort. Hardin used the opportunity to withdraw his wand without getting Bedivere's attention. He had a feeling that Bedivere wouldn't agree with him without a fight.
"What could you possibly have that would interest me? Filthy second-handed robes? Muggle books? That horrendous trunk of yours? Don't make me laugh, Sayre."
"Actually, I think that you might be the most interested one in what I've to offer," He said, opening his bag and allowing Bedivere to see the cape of the Avery's grimoire, "Would I be correct to believe you want this back, Benny?"
If it was possible, Bedivere looked even angrier, but, now, with some determination - maybe even hope - in his eyes.
"Give. It. Back."
"You know, I've never liked charity." He said, placing the book back in his bag and closing it, "If you want it, we can make a deal."
"You are a fucking dead man, Sayre."
It all happened too fast. In one moment, he was standing, talking with Bedivere, and, in the next one, he was on the floor, escaping, by inches, of being hit by a Stickfast Hex. If it was a duel that Bedivere wanted, he would get one.
With his wand in hand, he cast, "Flipendo!"
Bedivere dodged it, and, instead of hitting him, the jinx hit Edwin's bed, destroying one of its vertical columns. Hardin honestly hoped that a simple mending charm would fix it because he didn't have the means to pay for it to be repaired.
Within a few minutes, the two boys managed to destroy half of their dorm by throwing each and every jinx, hex, and curse they knew on each other. Hardin had to admit that he had never considered the possibility of Bedivere knowing these many spells - he had always seemed to be a relatively dense person.
Deciding he had already delayed his victory for too long, Hardin enjoyed the fact that one of the bed's columns was close to Bedivere's feet and, using wandless magic, Hardin made it spin, hitting Bedivere's feet and making him lose his balance.
Taking this single moment of distraction, Hardin said, "Depulsio!"
The spell hit Bedivere on the chest, and the boy was instantly thrown against the wall. That probably hurt a great deal - not that Hardin cared about it. He walked towards the boy, laid on the ground with his hand caressing his head due to the hit.
"Are you going to listen to me now, or will I need to place you under a Body-Bind Curse?"
"What the fuck do you want, Sayre?" Bedivere asked, using all of his remaining strength to get up from the floor and sit. Hardin could see that the back of his head was bleeding. "I give up."
"Glad you chose to talk, now," Hardin replied as he went towards his trunk, retrieved the parchment he had enchanted weeks ago, and went back to where Bedivere was sitting. "I have a proposition for you and, if you accept it, I'll give you back your family grimoire."
"Fine," Bedivere said, with his eyes closed, "How many galleons do you want?"
"I don't want your galleons. I want promises."
Honestly, he wanted galleons. However, he needed to see if these deals could also work with promises. He knew that Unbreakable Vows existed and fitted what he wanted, but this was too extreme for him.
Bedivere frowned, "Are you insane?"
"No, I'm very sane, thanks for your concern," He said, "I have three promises I want you to make and, for me to be sure you'll keep them, you'll sign a deal. Then, I'll give the grimoire back to you."
"What do I have to promise?"
"Firstly, you'll forget and will stop talking about the fact that I'm a half-blood who grew up with muggles." He said, and Bedivere nodded, "From now on, I'm just Hardin Sayre. I'm not a mudblood, a filthy scum, or anything of the kind. I'm a wizard just like yourself."
Bedivere didn't seem pleased but murmured, "Alright."
"Second, you'll stop harassing Wri-Victoria and Daphne - especially Victoria - and you'll apologise to her for being a moron." Hardin said and, before Bedivere could say anything, he continued, "I'm done with the way you treat people like us. Yeah, we grew up with muggles, yet, we can suppress you in every single class… I hate muggles just as much as you do and, if I had the option, I would have grown up in the Wizarding World. Unfortunately, I didn't. But I'm just as magical as you are. There's absolutely no point in us fighting over because I'm a half-blood, and you are a pureblood. It's stupid."
Bedivere clutched his hands, "Does it have to be in public? The apology?"
"Yes, you've offended her in public, so it's fair that you apologise in public."
Hardin was sure Bedivere was about to punch him, but he just took a deep breath and then raised his head, asking, "What's the final one? You said it was three, right?"
"I want a truce."
"Truce?"
"Yeah, truce. We'll restart everything and act as if we've just met." Hardin said, "So after you sign this paper, there'll be no hard feelings."
For an entire minute, Bedivere stayed mute, staring at the floor. There was nothing else for Hardin to say. If Bedivere didn't accept the deal, he would send a letter to Mr Burke and hand him the grimoire hoping that Mr Burke would manage to sell it and, perhaps, give him a part of the money. Of course, he could keep the grimoire to himself, but that could end up in too many problems, so it was safer to get rid of it.
"Where do I sign?"
Hardin handed him the enchanted parchment, "By signing it, you agree to fulfil what I've told you. If you don't, there will be consequences."
"I know how a bloody deal works, Sayre." Bedivere said, "Do you have a quill?"
In a matter of moments, Bedivere signed the parchment, and Hardin felt a weird sensation - which probably meant the deal had worked. He would have to ask Mr Burke about it later.
"Do I have to apologise to her now?"
"If she's in the common room, yes." Hardin said, getting up from the floor, "If not, you can do it after dinner."
"Fine, let's get over it."
"Just two things first, though. Do you know any spell to clean all of this mess?"
"Yeah, it's called a domestic elf." Bedivere said as if he was stupid, "I'll call mine after we're done."
"Now, regarding my situation," He began, "How did you figure out I wasn't raised in the Wizarding World?"
Bedivere shrugged, "My father has a friend that works in the registration area in the Ministry. I asked him to check your file over Easter's break - I was curious how you managed to be good at everything, you know... And, well, he mentioned your file wasn't in the normal pile for wizards but in the muggle-borns one. As you are in Slytherin, it's obvious you aren't a real mudblood. So, I guessed you were raised with muggles." He paused, "I didn't know for sure. But you sort of confirmed it after I called you a mudblood, and you tried to explain, saying your mother was a witch and your father a muggle. And, well, that's it. It was only a lucky guess."
"Quite smart."
Together, they left the dorm and returned to the common room. As it was almost dinner time, the majority of the Slytherin's students were present in the room. As they spotted Greengrass and Wright talking cheerfully with one another while sitting on a couch not very far away from the middle of the room, Hardin pushed Bedivere until them.
Then, Hardin climbed over a centre table. He wasn't very fond of this part of the plan, but he figured this would be for the best.
"OI!" He said, or better, shouted, gathering the attention from nearly everyone in the room, who were looking at him as if he was mad, "Thank you for the attention. I just wanted to say that my friend, Bedivere Avery here, has something to say to Victoria Wright."
If it was possible, people stared at him as if he was even crazier. Victoria Wright, for one, was exchanging confused looks between him and Bedivere, while Daphne looked at him as if she was saying, 'If this is a joke, I'm going to end you.'
"Bedivere, if you may."
Bedivere's disgusted face was remarkable, but he murmured, "I'm sorry."
"I think you should say it a bit louder," Hardin said, enjoying every single moment of the power he now possessed, "I'm afraid the people in the back of the room haven't heard you yet."
Taking a glance over the room, Hardin saw that most of the Slytherin half-bloods were looking at the scene in disbelief, though they had smiles over their faces. Meanwhile, some purebloods, such as Selwyn, looked confused, while others, more approving of pureblood supremacy, seemed outraged. And, finally, Victoria Wright was looking delighted but trying to keep her face serious.
Bedivere took a deep breath.
"Victoria Wright, I'm sorry for being a wanker with you without any reason." Bedivere said loudly, causing many mouths to hang open, "Regardless of your father's decision, you are just as magical as I am."
For an entire moment, the Slytherin common room went dead silent - though Hardin had the feeling he had heard some whispering.
"Thank you all for your attention," Bedivere said and then turned to Hardin, "Done. Now I want my part of the deal."
Hardin removed from his bag the grimoire, which caused the Slytherins watching the scene to be even more surprised, and handed it to Bedivere, who immediately left the room and went back to the dorm. Soon, the attention of the room was all turned to him.
"What are you looking at?" He said, causing most people to look away from him and go back to their former activities. A few eyes, however, followed him for the rest of the night.
After a few moments of staring, Victoria asked, "How?"
"Don't mind it," He replied, "Just know that he won't bother you any longer."
"Thank you," She said, giving the most sincere smile he had ever seen.
"Oh, and I guess I also owe you an apology." He said, much to the girls' surprise, "For you and Daphne - actually. I'm sorry for being quite mean to both of you. You never did anything to deserve it. I just wanted to get myself out of trouble, you know."
"It's alright, Hardin," Victoria said, "Right, Daph?"
"Apologies accepted,"
"Cool." He said, wondering what he should say next, "Huh, I'll see you two during the feast. Maybe we can talk?"
"Of course,"
Then, he smiled and walked out of the common room, followed by Ren and Alyssa. He was almost reaching the Great Hall doors when Ren placed a hand on his shoulder, making him stop walking and turn his attention to them.
Both looked confused.
"What was all of that?"
"I thought you'd recognised it, Ren. I've made a deal. Tell your grandfather it worked perfectly - by the way."
"But why?" Alyssa asked, still frowning, "You could've asked for anything if you had his grimoire. Why waste it with Wright?"
"I haven't wasted it," He said simply, "I solved a problem and gained some friends."
"You are a friend of Benny, now?" Ren asked as if every word of this sentence was painful to him.
"We are on speaking terms,"
Ren made a disgusted face.
"Well, it seems you've got a lot to tell us about, Hardin," Alyssa said as they entered the Great Hall and sat at the end of the Slytherin table. "Come on, start talking."
His plan was to ignore their questions, the less people knew about it, the less problems he would have. However, as Katherine arrived, it became impossible.
"Guess what?" Katherine said, "Someone cursed Filch, and he was found locked in a broom cupboard. Can you believe it? Whoever did it is my new hero. It's just a shame that they found him so fast."
"Hardin," Ren called, "Why do I have a feeling you've got something to do with all of this?"
"No way. Hardin making such mischief? I don't believe it." Alyssa said. "Did you?"
"Think about it, Alyssa, how else would he be able to access Filch's office and get the grimoire? Our Hardin cursed a member of the staff. Brilliant! You are bloody brilliant, mate!"
"Hardin? What do you have to say in your defence?"
"Well, I may have something to do with it…"
"Don't you dare to keep it as a secret,"
"Come on!"
By the end of the night, Hardin didn't know if he had made the right choice, but he knew that tonight, something about the way the Slytherins saw him had changed. If it were for better or worse, only the future would tell.
Author's Notes
Firstly, I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes.
So, initially, this would be two chapters, but I decided to cut some things out and put them together. I don't think this is my best chapter, but I needed a few things from here to future parts of the story.
The following two (or three) chapters will take place during the summer break and, later, we'll have the beginning of his second year. A Marauder is going to appear in the next chapter. Any guesses?
Thank you for reading, and I'm sorry for the delay.