Disclaimer : This work is a fanfiction based off of the Harry Potter Universe created by J.K Rowling. Any Characters, plots and settings already established in this universe belong exclusively to her. I do not nor will I ever claim ownership over them.
I'd also like to point out that the formatting of the location, time and date of each scene is taken from ACI100 with his permission, somebody that I follow on Discord. His stories are truly a work of art and inspired me to write my own so I'd advise also checking his profile out on this site. This will eventually turn into a Multi POV story like his so it is there so as to not completely confuse people. His formatting makes sense and is easy to follow.
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Thanks and Enjoy.
Harry Potter and The Forsaken's Awakening
Year One - The Diverging Paths
Chapter Six - The Brother and The Mentor
September 2nd, 1991
Transfiguration Classroom
4:01 pm
The remainder of the lesson had been pretty good, all things considered.
He had gained his first ever friend, and was operating on cloud nine, and he had completed the task set for him with ease, and had simply gone about trying to make more changes to his match by the end of the lesson, something he found great success in.
His needle had been encased in a shiny, very realistic looking snake coiled around the needle, the tip of it being the snake's tongue sticking out and the back end being the tail.
When he had shown it to Professor McGonagall at the end of the class, she had inspected it thoroughly with her mouth wide open for a good minute before awarding him twenty-five points for sheer brilliance, something that he was very pleased with. Not the points ... he actually didn't care all that much for house points. Sure, they get a nice shiny trophy at the end of the year, if they even got that, but Harry had already done the house points effort thing in the muggle world and he honestly didn't really care about it all that much. He would help Slytherin win it, but it wasn't something he was actively striving towards.
The thing he did care about was the praise that Professor McGonagall had bestowed upon him. That had made him feel good.
With his help, Daphne, as he was taking to calling his new friend after she had corrected the use of her surname through the lesson as they had been talking and while he had been essentially coaching her through the process, had managed the full transformation of her match by the end of class, and were they not in a public setting he feared she might have tried to hug him, with the way she was looking at him.
Only Nott had made any change to his match by the end of class on the Slytherin side, but it was similar to how Daphne had managed to change hers the first time.
Not everything was sunshine and daisies, though.
Evan had managed the full transformation halfway through their practical side of the double period, earning himself praise from McGonagall. He had earned himself the same points Harry had gotten, which didn't seem fair, as he had done it a good half an hour before his twin, but whatever.
It was what had prompted him to go the extra mile and get even more praise.
Granger had also managed something similar to Nott by the end of class, though she was the only person that had achieved something and somehow did not look happy about it.
He supposed she wasn't accustomed to being shown up by someone more talented than her.
She would just have to get used to it.
He had no intention of slowing down.
It was as he had left the class with Daphne alongside him that he knew that avoiding his brother was no longer a possibility, because the boy was waiting for him a few metres from the door, Weasley predictably with him, following him around like a lost puppy.
Harry, ever the stubborn person he was, tried to go past him, not looking the boy in the eye. Evan wasn't having it, though, and called after him.
Not only did that make him stop - if only because he knew that if Evan was even close to being as stubborn and persistent as he was, then walking away would not only be futile, but would simply delay the inevitable - but it made every Slytherin and Gryffindor around them do the same, no doubt curious to see the interaction between them.
People really were quite nosy about things that didn't concern them.
Up until then, there had been no confirmation from either that they even knew each other, or were family other than him talking about his twin with the Slytherins the night before. Evan calling after him using his first name only confirmed it to the Gryffindors who might not have known, depending on what Evan may or may not have said.
A sigh escaped his lips and he forced himself to keep a blank face as he turned to face his brother, waiting for the boy in question to reach him, Weasley trailing pathetically behind him.
He really did look like a puppy following its owner.
It was actually rather amusing.
"Uhm ... hi," Evan started awkwardly.
Harry blinked, and waited for what seemed like an eternity for his brother to explain why he was stopping him in the middle of the corridor, but the boy just continued to stare at him.
"Can I help you with something or can I go?" Harry asked blandly, gesturing down the corridor he'd attempted to walk with his thumb over his shoulder. Honestly, this whole thing seemed about as useful as a paper umbrella would be if anyone ever decided they were stupid enough to make one. "I'd like to get to the library at some point today."
Snickers from Nott and Zabini behind him made Evan sputter before he finally seemed to realise that he, Harry, didn't actually want to speak to him.
"Is that all you're going to say?"
It was Harry's turn to stare, wondering if the boy opposite him was actually being serious, before he frowned in thought. Did he have anything he really wanted to say to his brother? Evan hadn't been the one that had abandoned him. He had only been a bystander. Sure, he might have known about Harry long before Hogwarts, though he must not have cared about him very much if that had been the case, otherwise he would have demanded to come and see him years ago. Or at the very least, he could have written to him over the summer to try and establish some sort of relationship before they even attended Hogwarts.
Only now did he seem to want to say something to him.
"I have nothing to say to you," he admitted honestly. It was true. He didn't have a single thing he actually wanted to say to Evan. Their mother and sister were a different story, but he would rather just go about his business than speak to his brother
He just didn't care about the boy.
He also wanted this conversation over with.
"You still haven't told me what you want," Harry continued in the hopes of finding out exactly that so that he could leave as soon as possible. "I can't imagine I've done anything worthy enough to gain the attention of the Boy Who Lived."
Red blotches started to appear on Evan's cheeks, but whether it was anger or embarrassment, Harry didn't know.
Nor did he care, either.
"We're brothers."
"Brothers?" Harry asked quietly, though the silence through the hall made it so that they all heard him. There was an incredulous questioning in his tone that almost nobody in the corridor missed, as if the idea was so far-fetched it was almost delusional. To Harry, it was.
So, apparently that was supposed to explain everything. Maybe to everyone else, it might.
The people around them weren't aware that he had been left in the care of abusive muggles for ten years while his brother got everything he wanted because he was famous for a once in a lifetime fluke he probably didn't even remember doing. They didn't know that he had cried himself to sleep almost more times than he could remember while silently begging anyone to come and take him away. They didn't understand that he had needed to scavenge through bins to find leftover scraps like a homeless person might if they were desperate enough just so that he knew with certainty that he had gotten something to eat that day.
They didn't know that there had been a point where death had seemed so much better than life ever would be.
None of them could possibly understand what that had been like.
So maybe them being brothers explained to everyone else why it might be reason enough for them to talk … for Evan to want to speak with him.
But not him.
He let an amused sniff at the thought of them being brothers. He didn't consider anyone family, and he doubted he ever would.
"Remind me, when was the last time we spoke again?"
It was a harsh comeback, and Harry knew it. Evan hadn't been responsible for Lily's actions. He had only been fifteen months old, and hadn't even been able to protest the decision, let alone have an impact on it. Then again, Evan had never attempted to get in touch before the Hogwarts Express.
"That's not fair," Evan mumbled, his eyes and face betraying his hurt at the accusation Harry had thrown his way. "I had nothing to do with the reason for that."
The world wasn't fair, as Harry had learned throughout the eleven years of his miserable existence so far, but decided against throwing that in his brother's face. Evan wasn't ready to hear that, yet. He wouldn't understand, having grown up so sheltered and spoiled.
"Maybe," Harry conceded. "You never attempted to correct it, though."
Merlin, he could practically feel the curiosity pouring in from all directions. Both of them were being quite careful with their words, neither wanting to reveal to the masses anything that could be used to discover that Harry had been raised by muggles. Likely Lily had something to do with that on Evan's part.
For him, it was simply not wanting people to know how he grew up. Even though he knew he could use it to ruin Lily, and Evan by extension. He knew the scandal that would take place if his situation became public knowledge. He just didn't want it to get that far.
Before Evan could respond, as he had already opened his mouth to do so, Harry continued.
"If you can't tell me the last time we spoke to each other, maybe you can tell me when the last time your mother spoke to me was, instead?"
The whitening of the boy's face made it clear that this was one thing he'd hoped Harry would forgive. It was a card for which Evan really had no defence, because it had been her decision to put him there, and it had been her decision to not even so much as send a letter, let alone visit.
"Shut up, you slimy snake. Mrs Potter is one of the greatest witches in the world."
Every eye focused on Weasley, the absolute imbecile that had decided to involve himself in a conversation that neither concerned nor involved him. His face was a more vibrant shade of red than his hair, a decent feat that made him look rather comical.
Harry looked the boy up and down, unimpressed. Really, who the fuck did this dickhead think he was? What right did the ginger have to butt him to a conversation he understood nothing about? Even if Weasley was aware of his circumstances, and Harry actually thought that possibility to be a surety, why did he think his opinion mattered just because he was best friends with Evan?
Sparing him a disdainful glance, Harry turned his attention back to Evan.
"Put a leash on your puppy before I launch it down the corridor."
Ringing laughter rang out from the Slytherin side of the confrontation. Even Malfoy had cracked up laughing at his insult, which was surprising in of itself considering they were battling for power amongst the first years in Slytherin.
He saw out of the corner of his eye Weasley draw his wand. He was remarkably slow about it, and even nearly fumbled it in his anger. The wand was clearly very old and very clearly not something the boy had picked up in Ollivanders. Another hand me down, he was guessing.
He was surprised to see three raised wands from behind him peak into view, pointing at Weasley. He might've expected Daphne to do so, considering they were friends now and all, but he hadn't expected it from Nott and Zabini.
"Ron!" came the furious whisper of his brother, who had thrown out an arm in an attempt to stop Weasley launching a spell at him. Honestly, with how thick the boy was , he was curious to see if he actually knew any spells or if he was simply so angry he had drawn his wand, forgetting that he didn't.
Harry was willing to bet money on the latter.
"No, no," Harry said mockingly, throwing up a hand to wave off his brother. "I have to admit I'm curious as to whether he actually knows any spells. Let him try. I won't even draw my wand," He showed his hands palms up towards his brother, indicating he wasn't hiding his wand. It was actually in his trouser pocket.
"Come on, Weasley. Curse me. Show me you aren't a complete moron."
The boy's face turned even redder, but all he did was clench his wand tighter and ball his other hand into a tight fist whilst glaring a hole through Harry's skull. It was pretty evident to everyone there that Weasley did not know any spells.
"That's what I thought," Harry said after a long moment of nothing. "You're pathetic, Weasley. Just like the rest of your muggle-loving family."
He had wanted to rile Weasley up, get him to do something so that he had reason to launch him down the corridor. The twat deserved it, after all. Mentioning the fact that his family was pathetic - while not necessarily what he believed, though he didn't have good opinions of them after learning they consorted with muggles - would easily accomplish what he desired.
He had been right.
Weasley had foregone the wand entirely, pushing Evan's outstretched arm out of the way, barrelling towards Harry with a fist raised, intending to fight him like a common muggle since he could not use his wand. After having Dudley and his gang, and Vernon do the exact same thing for years, Harry wasn't scared of this gangly redhead in the slightest.
With a snort, Harry lazily flicked his hand in Weasley direction, as though swatting a bothersome fly. It had the effect he was going for, though. Weasley was sent flying backwards and landed hard on his back near ten metres down the corridor, wand rolling out of his hand an extra couple feet further.
"Ron!" Evan exclaimed, running over to the boy, obviously going to check that he was alright. Harry, seizing his chance, promptly turned on his heel and continued the way he was going before being stopped for the pointless conversation he had just participated in, not noticing the stunned looks he was receiving not only from Daphne, but also Nott and Zabini, and the calculating ones from Malfoy and Parkinson as well.
September 3rd, 1991
Potions Classroom
12:59 pm
The library had been exactly what he needed after that conversation with his brother. It was easy to lose himself in his books and forget everything else for a while.
Books hadn't been first on the agenda, though. Daphne had immediately asked him not only about how he was so good at Transfiguration, but how he had performed wandless magic so easily to banish Weasley away from him.
She didn't ask about the things he and Evan had spoken about, probably smart enough to realise that he would not speak about it, judging by his careful words in the hallway.
Telling them that he had been doing windless magic consciously for years had been worth it for the priceless looks on all of their faces. Zabini, whom Harry was coming to realise was far from an open book and barely ever showed any emotion whatsoever, was particularly amusing due to the lack of composure he had shown when Harry had told them.
It also tied in to him being so good at Transfiguration, because his intent, will and visualisation was always the same method, even if the object in question was different. It was why he was confident he would not have any problems in Charms of Defence Against the Dark Arts, either.
They had all been very impressed, to say the least.
After that, they had hit the books for a few hours. It was weird sitting with a group of people who did not mind doing that in the slightest. Nott in particular had been carrying a book in his arm for the whole day, which Harry noticed he opened whenever there was a lull in conversation or one he wasn't required to participate in.
It explained the boy's lack of social interaction, so far. He was just naturally quiet, preferring to obtain knowledge for his own use rather than converse with people.
Zabini was a different case. Harry suspected that once the boy opened up, he was actually a very good conversationalist. He was just very observant, staying quiet and preferring to learn other people's secrets rather than give up any he might have.
It was disconcerting, but Harry thought he could get used to it eventually. They were all like that to a degree.
Zabini just happened to be the most obvious at doing it.
The next morning had been a near repeat of the first one, the only difference being that he had beaten Aria down to the common room this time. They had spoken, and Aria had mentioned the fact that she had heard about the confrontation between himself and his brother, and his eventual clash with Weasley.
She had offered her support in the matter before asking if he had double History that morning. At first, he'd been very confused as to how she could possibly know that, but then she explained that the timetables for the years didn't change, and that History had been at the same time for her.
Apparently, his patience and ability to stay conscious would be very greatly tested in History.
And hadn't that been the truth.
The class, which they had shared with the Hufflepuffs, was very easy to get bored and even tired in. By the end, he and Daphne had been the only ones left awake, though she had been heavily yawning and was no longer pursuing a futile effort to keep track of what Professor Binns was saying through her note taking.
Harry hadn't bothered after the first two minutes. Aria had told him that she hadn't even gone to the class last year after the first lesson, only turning up for tests and instead just reading A History of Magic in her own time.
Harry couldn't see a scenario in which he did anything different. Since he had spent the entire lesson reading his Defence textbook, he would indeed just not go instead of wasting three whole hours sitting down when he could better spend it practising in an empty classroom.
It wasn't as though Binns would even notice. Harry doubted the ghost knew who he was even teaching, anymore.
Lunch had been a quiet affair, with half of their group still waking themselves up from the lesson and the other half trying to keep the fatigue at bay. The food had ended up working pretty well in that regard, and by the time they were sitting in Potions, Daphne beside Harry, as had become the norm in every lesson, now, they were fully awake again.
Unfortunately, this was a class that they shared with the Gryffindors, so he had to put up with not only Weasley glaring hatefully at him, but he had to deal with Evan as well, whose face mimicked that of Weasleys.
Not that Harry cared.
If Evan no longer wished to speak with him, that was fine by him.
Professor Snape had ordered them in, and as the bell rang, the man pulled out a register, going down each name one by one. That was, until he reached Evan's name.
"Ah yes," he drawled, "Evan Potter. Our new - celebrity."
Harry could see the professor's lip curling and immediately brightened, knowing that for some reason he was unaware of, Snape did not like his brother one bit. There would be no favouritism for his brother in this class, unlike McGonagall's, in which it had been subtle, but present.
Many of the Slytherins hid sniggers behind their hands, and for once it seemed as though his and Malfoy's groups were finally on the same page about something.
Professor Snape finished the register, thankfully not pausing or making a comment about Harry, and allowed his eyes to roam over them all for a moment. His eyes rested longer on Harry and Evan, though he looked far friendlier towards Harry than he did the other boy.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape began, and though his voice was quiet like a couple of nights previous, it easily travelled to the back of the room where himself and Daphne were sitting. Like McGonagall, Snape had a gift of keeping the class silent without effort, and Harry wondered if that was the reason they were the only two classes shared by the rival houses.
Neither Snape nor McGonagall would take any shit whatsoever in their classes.
"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is real magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses … I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
Harry saw out of the corner of his eye that Evan and Weasley were exchanging glances, while Granger was sitting ramrod straight in her chair, likely desperate to prove she wasn't a dunderhead.
Harry wasn't worried in the slightest. Not only did he have years of experience following recipes in cooking, which while different from potion-making, wasn't tremendously so, but if he did turn out to be an absolute retard, he had a prodigy next to him that could correct any mistakes he might make.
He instinctively knew that Snape was leading up to calling one of them out to answer questions, to see if they had learned anything in the book or not. Harry knew his next words would be to do exactly that, and Harry had a feeling it would be Evan, based on Snape's apparent dislike of him.
"Potter!" Snape said suddenly.
"Yes, sir?" Harry replied politely, rather surprised that Snape had decided to call on him. Well, at least he had progressed quite far into his book. This shouldn't be too hard.
Snape looked confused himself for all of a second before he frowned; it seemed to hit him that there were two Potters, and that he had to find a way to distinguish between them.
Harry also realised too late that he probably was calling Evan out instead of him, but years of habit had forced him to reply quickly. Vernon had always called for him exactly like that. At least, when he was in a good enough mood to use his name, that was.
"Gryffindor Potter," Snape amended. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry almost wished for a moment Snape had been talking to him, because that was an easy one. Chapter two of Magical Drafts and Potions briefly mentioned the Draught of Living Death as the most powerful sleeping potion in the world, and that those two ingredients, among a bunch of other things that were not mentioned, were used to make it.
Somehow, though, even with the tutoring he must have received from Lily, Evan looked about as confused as most of the other Gryffindors.
The exception, of course, was Granger, whose hand had shot into the air like a rocket the moment Snape had stopped talking. Not only was that extremely rude, in Harry's view, because it suggested that you didn't believe the student capable of answering the question, but it was also quite a breach of wizarding etiquette.
You were only supposed to raise your hand if you had a question for the Professor, or if the Professor had posed a question for the entire class, not a specific student. To do as she was doing was very disrespectful, and it was made even worse by the fact that Evan was from a very high ranking house.
"I don't know, sir."
Did Evan seriously not learn this? Surely he would've been told, if not by Lily, then by the damn textbook. It wasn't even ten pages in that it was mentioned for merlin's sake. He didn't even have to read that far.
He had seemed rather competent in Transfiguration, but somehow elementary Potions knowledge escaped him? It made zero sense.
And it was laughable.
Snape, however, seemed to find it disgraceful, if the sneer working its way onto his face said anything on the matter.
"Clearly … fame isn't everything, is it, Potter?"
Exactly. Finally someone showed themselves to have a brain in regards to Evan. Just because somebody was famous, especially because of circumstance as opposed to actual skill, it didn't mean they were worth fawning over.
Especially if they weren't all that intelligent.
Evan's face went bright red, and Harry knew for sure that this time it was indeed embarrassment as Evan looked down, unable to keep meeting Snape's eyes. Interesting. Only the cheeks went red when someone was angry.
Vernon must be an oddity even among muggles. Not only did his whole face change colour, but it went puce instead of red.
Harry almost smiled, wondering how Vernon would take it if Harry wrote to him and told him that. It wasn't like he was ever going to go back. He would rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron all summer if he had to. If Harry had a way of seeing the man's reaction to the letter, he would do it in a heartbeat.
"Let us try again, Potter," Snape continued, bringing Harry out of his pleasant thoughts. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
"In your cupboard."
The Gryffindor side broke out into laughter at Evan's reply. Harry wondered if Evan had a death wish, the way Snape's eyes narrowed. If Harry ever saw that look directed at him he would run the other way.
"Five points from Gryffindor for a pathetic attempt at humouring your housemates, though one can hardly be surprised at your desire to be the centre of attention given the unfortunate circumstances you were raised in."
That raised Harry's eyebrows. Did Snape know his mother? If he did, he must not like her very much, since he had literally just insulted her to Evan's face.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Snape ignored the question completely. "Another five points from Gryffindor for failing to address your superiors correctly. Now, let's try again. What is a bezoar?"
Harry, who could see Evan getting visibly more angry with each passing second, was becoming more and more amused at the situation. The questions were so easy, yet Evan was struggling to give valid answers.
The idiot should have just opened his book.
"I don't know, sir."
Harry let out a quiet, breathy chuckle that only Daphne could hear, giving him an amused smile as she turned her head towards him. He was rather enjoying this class, so far.
"Didn't think you would open a book before coming, eh, Potter? Is the Boy Who Lived above such things as reading?"
Evan flushed, again looking down. Snape, having enough of Evan's incompetence, turned away from the boy and his eyes fell - rather predictably - on Harry.
"Perhaps your twin will not be such a disgrace to the Founding House of Potter as you have shown yourself to be," the man spoke, and Harry sat up straighter, wondering if he would get the same questions or different ones. He was confident he could handle it, in any case. "Slytherin Potter, answer me the questions your terrifically idiotic twin could not."
"Certainly, sir," Harry replied, feeling his lips tug into a smile despite his best efforts. Had he mentioned already that Potions was very quickly becoming his favourite class, so far? "When combined together with other ingredients, powdered root of asphodel and an infusion of wormwood make the Draught of Living Death, the most powerful sleeping potion in the world. As for a bezoar, is it a small stone found in the stomach of a goat that acts as an antidote to most poisons."
He looked over to the Gryffindor portion of the class, relishing in either the glares he was receiving, namely from Evan, Weasley and Granger, and the surprised awe he was getting from the others. "The information for both of those questions were in chapters two and one, respectively."
"Five points to Slytherin for correct and concise answers. Let us see just how far you have progressed with your textbook, shall we? Which potion makes use of snake fangs and horned slugs?"
Again, easy. It was the first recipe in the textbook. "The Boil Curing Potion, sir."
"Correct. In said potion, when are porcupine quills added?"
"In the second to last step, after you've taken the cauldron off of the fire."
"What colour is the Forgetfulness Potion supposed to be after it is completed?"
"Orange, sir."
"How many mistletoe berries are used in that potion?"
"Four, sir."
"What is the first step in creating the Herbicide Potion?
"To crush four lionfish spines into rough powder using a pestle and mortar."
"How long can the most basic sleeping draught last at its maximum potency?"
Ah, Harry did not know that one. He had progressed about halfway through the book, and the last potion mentioned that he read was the Herbicide Potion. He hadn't reached the sleeping draught yet, so he actually had no idea. He could guess, but getting it wrong would be worse than admitting that he simply didn't know the answer.
The professor's eyebrow had raised with each question Harry had answered correctly, and even Daphne had been somewhat surprised by the knowledge he possessed, and how quickly he'd been able to rattle the answers off. His memory helped with that. It had always been exceptional.
"I'm not sure, sir," Harry conceded with a grimace, feeling quite sorrowful.
For a second Snape and he just looked at each other, before the silence was broken.
"Fifteen points to Slytherin, Mr Potter, for an additional five questions answered which I believe only one other student in your year would know at this moment in time."
Indeed, even Granger had looked stumped by some of the questions that Snape had asked, showing that she had not, in fact, memorised all of her textbooks as she had claimed on the train. He had no doubt that if Daphne was as good as she claimed herself to be, something which Snape obviously knew about judging by the glance he'd sent her way when he had mentioned another student knowing the information, then he had no doubt she would've known, too.
"Miss Greengrass, would you be so kind as to fill in Mr Potter's knowledge of the last question I asked him?"
Okay, Snape definitely knew that she was no rookie in the art of potion-making.
"At its maximum potency, a sleeping draught can last up to twelve hours, sir," she instantly rattled off.
"Correct."
Snape turned away from them all for a moment, walking around his desk and sitting in his chair. "Why are you not writing that all down?" He barked at the rest of them, and there was a rummaging of bags in a scramble of parchment and a quill. The only people who didn't were himself and Daphne, him because he could easily remember such a trivial bit of information, and her because she knew it all already.
After that, they had been paired, something Harry was very happy with, and been told to make the Boil Curing Potion, and it was then that he realised exactly how skilled Daphne was at the subject.
She had an entire box of ingredients in her obviously expanded bag, which negated the need for Snape's ingredients, which she claimed were probably cross-contaminated anyway. She coached him through the entire process, only making sure the ingredients she had were distributed correctly, teaching him methods that most certainly were not in the textbook and were far more efficient, judging by the fact that they had finished the whole thing when everyone else wasn't even halfway through, yet.
It was truly mind-boggling.
Snape had politely told them to leave the moment Daphne had handed in their perfect potion. Harry, not one to waste such an opportunity, gratefully left the room, his new friend on his heels. At first, he wasn't even sure what to say to her. She was obviously insanely talented when it came to potions and herbology, but he'd truly had no idea just how skilled she was.
"For someone who claims they've received no prior instruction in Potions, you're quite good at it, and knowledgeable for a first year," Daphne stated, walking alongside him.
"Just because I was never taught by my mother, doesn't mean that I don't know anything about potions." He paused, deciding how best to explain how he might be good at the subject. "I read quite a bit of the textbook over the summer, and I have a good memory. I also have experience in cooking, which honestly isn't much different to Potions."
"Cooking?" Daphne asked, wrinkling her nose. "That sounds rather … muggle."
"My mother is a muggleborn, Daphne."
"Don't you have House Elves for that sort of thing?"
Did they have House Elves? Probably. If they lived in a manor, then Harry couldn't see how they didn't. The place would be a nightmare to take care of, otherwise.
"We do, but mother has never liked relying on them to do all of the housework," Harry guessed. "She thinks we should be able to do these things for ourselves, too. Good character building or some other rubbish."
At this, Daphne raised an eyebrow, and Harry mentally patted himself on the back for thinking up an excuse so fast. He couldn't imagine any muggleborn being particularly happy with the discovery of House Elves, unless they actually knew why they existed. From an outsider's perspective, it seemed an awful lot like slavery.
Harry was just glad he wouldn't be required to do a ton of chores anymore. He didn't care if it was slavery one way or the other.
"Did your brother have to do any of this?"
Harry snorted. As if Lily would make Evan do any chores around the house. "Of course not. He's the Boy Who Lived. He does whatever he wants."
Daphne simply hummed her agreement and they were silent for a while as they walked up into the main part of the school, going past the Great Hall and making their way up the stairs.
"Do you know where the Defence classroom is?" Daphne asked him.
"On the third floor, on the left hand side. Aria told me this morning."
"I'm very surprised you're friendly with her, especially as Draco doesn't seem to like you all that much. I'm actually shocked you even know each other. She's never mentioned you, before."
"We shared a compartment on the way here," Harry explained. "Apparently she wanted to sit somewhere quiet for the journey, so she asked if she could join me. She told Lestrange I was good company, so I must've done something right."
"That might explain why she defended you from Travers and his friends, but why is she helping you with Draco?"
Harry shrugged. Even he didn't know the answer to that question. He wanted to ask, but he wasn't sure whether or not she would tell him, and it was still weird to actually ask anything. Aria helping him just didn't make sense, unless she despised Draco with a passion, but something told him that actually wasn't the case. So why was she doing it?
"Harry?" Daphne started quietly, and Harry knew whatever she was about to ask, he wouldn't like it.
He hummed, signalling to her that she had his attention.
"What was your confrontation with your brother about yesterday?"
Harry sucked in a sharp breath, against his will. He had hoped that she would let it slide, and had forgotten about it. Apparently, that was not the case. She had just been waiting until they were alone to ask him what it had really been about.
"He just wanted to talk, you heard him," Harry replied quietly, trying to stall the inevitable. He knew she wouldn't buy it.
"That's not what I meant."
"What did you mean, then?"
She looked at him, fixing him with a penetrating stare that he would not meet. He feared she would get the truth out of him if he did, and that was something he couldn't afford.
He felt her gently take his hand - making him tense - bringing them to a stop on the first floor landing.
"Harry."
Damn, why did her voice have to be so gentle? Why was she making this so difficult?
"He said he wasn't involved with the reason behind why you two haven't talked in however long," she said, looking him in the eye.
"He did say that."
There was no point denying it. She had heard their conversation just as well as anyone else had in that corridor. To say she had been hearing things would be an insult to her intelligence.
"What did he mean by it?"
He gulped, looking down. She was really making him want to tell her, but he knew he couldn't. He doubted she would want to be friends with him if she knew the circumstances that he was raised in. More likely, she would laugh and spread it all over the school by the end of the day. It was a secret he couldn't afford to give away. It would leave him vulnerable, and give Malfoy the upper hand instantly. He did not want to lose the friend he had just gained.
"It's nothing, Daphne," he rasped.
"No, it's not," she argued immediately, taking his other hand, again making him tense. "If it was nothing, you wouldn't be so reluctant to tell me anything."
Why was she so bloody perceptive?
"What are you hiding?" she whispered, tightening her grip on his hands when he made to pull away. "What aren't you telling me?"
Harry shook his head, refusing to meet her eyes. He couldn't tell her. He just couldn't. The consequences of doing such a thing were too high.
"Harry … please?"
"Why aren't you and your sister close anymore?"
It was the only thing he could think of that would potentially dissuade her from pursuing the answers to the questions she was asking him. He knew her sister was a private topic, which was why he had brought it up. If she did not tell him, he had no reason to tell her anything.
Her eyes widened for a moment before they seemed to grow upset, and Harry had a split second hesitation, thinking that she was actually going to tell him.
"Okay."
She let go of his hands and turned away, letting out a shallow breath. Whatever it was, it must really be personal if she was willing to give up that quickly.
"Okay, I get it. It's private, and you're not ready to talk about it." She shook her head. "I know that better than anyone."
Her eyes found him again, and she swallowed heavily.
"I suppose you aren't going to answer my questions anytime soon?"
"Not unless you answer mine."
A sigh escaped her lips. "That's fair, I guess. You have no reason to tell me, and you wouldn't do it without anything in return." There was an awkward pause. "It must really be bad if you're so unwilling to talk about it?"
It made Harry's lips twitch. Was she not in the exact same boat he was in that regard?
"I could ask you the same," he replied, not giving anything away.
"You'd be right." Fuck, now he at least had to tell her that much.
"So would you."
She nodded, accepting that it was all she was going to give her. "I can only imagine us getting closer, so one day, I might tell you. I hope you'll give me the same courtesy."
Harry nodded. It was only fair, after all, even if he didn't think she would ever tell him. If she said nothing, then neither would he.
"One day."
It was a promise. They both had skeletons in the closet that they didn't want getting out, and if they became close like she had predicted, there would come a time when they would tell each other. For now, though, they weren't ready, and that was okay.
Author's Endnotes:
This marks the end of Chapter 6, which took me way too long to write. I've been so busy this week with other things that I've been exhausted by the time I come home, and thus, have not managed to put as much time into this as I would have liked, and for that, I can only apologise.
I was going to add another scene to this chapter, but then realised the length that scene would be, so it will be the first scene in chapter 7, instead. It doesn't actually change much other than the word count being higher on the next chapter. The end point of that chapter will still be where I want it to be.
Harry and Evan had there first confrontation in this chapter, something I was eager for. Harry launching Weasley was especially fun, and while it may seem out of character slightly, Harry's opinion of the Weasleys had been somewhat influenced by Aria, already. He doesn't like muggles, therefore, learning that the Weasleys like and even consort with them, didn't paint a good picture in Harry's mind. The fact that Weasley defended Evan and Lily so readily, and insulted Harry, even if the insult was rather tame, instantly made Harry's opinion of him worse.
The Potions scene was okay. I know it's very similar to canon, with slight differences, that being Harry answering a bunch of questions. I've rarely seen that done in fanfiction, and I'd like to think it would endear him to Snape even more.
As for Snape insulting Lily, let's just say that he is aware of a certain thing she did in regards to Harry, and does not like her for it one bit. He knows how bad Petunia treated Lily, so knowing what Lily did in spite of that destroyed anything else he might have felt, due to Snape's own childhood experience with his muggle father.
More Harry and Daphne scenes, with a hint as to the nature of Nott and Zabini. The talk that they are going to have isn't going to be for a while, but I know exactly at what point in the story it will happen. I'm excited to get to that point in the story, I must say. The year in which it happens is my favourite year in this story, so far. For those wondering exactly how much of this story I have planned so far, the answer is up to the end of fourth year. Make of that what you will.
Chapter 7 has already been started, so hopefully it will not take a week to finish and upload like this one did.
As always, leave a review and let me know your thoughts. I appreciate every review I get.
Until next time.
