The Dark Wizard

It was defense against the dark arts and Professor Moody was late. Harry was the only Gryffindor boy seated. The rest of the boys were crowded around the desk, staring down at him. Harry didn't acknowledge their gaze. His head was stuck looking blankly at a crumpled prophet.

"You're the worst," Seamus sneered.

"We bloody trusted you," Dean followed.

Ron snatched the paper and quoted, "legendary Harry Potter has taken to the shadows and devoted himself to black magic."

Harry didn't react.

"He manged to bewitch his dragon, a feat which is only possible by use of the imperious curse," Ron finished.

Harry still didn't react.

"Well? Aren't you going to explain yourself?" demanded Dean.

"Harry, we know you're not some dark wizard!" Seamus said.

"Listen, we're trying to help! Mr Gaunt forced you to do it, didn't he? That's what dad thinks," said Ron.

"Shut it, Weasley!" Draco yelled upon entry, "he doesn't have to explain himself to you, not after the way you've treated him,"

Hermione looked up from her studies to give Harry a sympathetic glance.

"Whatever Malfoy! We all know you and your gang are in on the plot too!" Ron said. "that's how he's controlling you, aye Harry? He's just surrounding you with enemies!"

Standing at the back of the crowd, Neville said, "Harry, if Mr Gaunt's controlling you for prize money, then we can go tell Dumbledore together."

The rest of the crowd nodded in support. Draco rolled his eyes.
"That stupid newspaper also said that Harry is in love with Pansy, are you going to convince yourselves that Mr Gaunt was behind that too!" he said.

"Well duh!" Ron exclaimed, "someone has to persuade him to carry through!"

Draco broke into a fit of laughter, intense enough to make his eyes water. Crab and Goyle quickly joined too.

Even Hermione found herself sniggering. She shut her textbook and looked pointedly at Ron. "Harry hates Pansy, she's utterly annoying!" she said.

Ron scrunched his face at her in response. "She's got more of a chance than you, miss bratty face!" he said.

Hermione huffed at him and returned to her study.

Ron's poked his tongue at her then returned to Harry. "Harry, I thought we were over this!" he said.

Harry couldn't believe Ron's attitude. He seemed to think that since Harry survived the first challenge, everyone were friends again. That wasn't the case, Harry wasn't going waste time with people who didn't appreciate Mr Gaunt's effort. Not even Arthur and Molly Weasley were willing to give him a try. Everyone just showed his new friend a blatant cold shoulder. He didn't think he'd ever say it, but Draco was more friendlier company by comparison.

The pair had started to spend more time together. Draco showed him places he never knew existed. For example, in the dungeons there was a games room with darts and billiards. Anyone could use it but it was Slytherin's best kept secret. Harry spent most of his breaks there, talking about quidditch strategies over a game of snooker. He would have spent more time with Hermione, but the library was becoming over run with fangirls of Victor Krum.

Draco paced the desks partings a little. "Just leave him alone," he whined.

There was a loud metal clang from the door. Moody had arrived.
"What's this?" he gruffly said, eyeing each standing student, One by one. They all nervously took their seats. His limped march banged its way over to Harry's desk. No one said a word. He snatched the newspaper from the desk, peered at it for exactly one second before burning it. The ashes drifted over right Ron's head.
"You all think Potter's gone Dark, huh?" he bellowed. "Cursed a dragon and now he's a dark wizard?"
He surveyed the class. The question was not rhetorical, he wanted an answer.
"None of you would know a dark wizard if they stood right before you," he shouted. "And as for Potter, the imperious curse was created to subdue dragons. That's why many have a chip in their scales. So, I'd be congratulating his aim."

The class had adverted their gaze. However, Harry risked a glance at the professor. Surprisingly, Moody gave an encouraging wink in return. Somehow that was enough to make Harry smile.

"Right then!" Moody said on his way to the front of the class, "you all better be opening your textbooks to page 314. You're going to copy the first paragraph about disorientation spells."

The lesson went on as normal. A fleeting moment of book work followed by intense practical training. Moody didn't like a practical approach, he relished it. Seamus once joked that Moody was training them for war. In a way Moody was, after all, he was always paranoid about Dark Wizards.

-~o~-

It was dinner. Ron, Fred and George watched with shock. Harry had a stack of books on the table and was studying furiously as if Snape had his wand aimed at his head. The four of them completely ignored everything Dumbledore said during his speech.

"What are you doing, you madman!" Fred uttered.

"Yeah, Harry? That charms test is a good week away." Ron said, "You've got heaps of time."

The Weasley trio didn't understand. When Mr Gaunt said he expected better grades, what he actually meant was best-of-the-class, or maybe the entire school. Every time they trained, Mr Gaunt enquired about his schoolwork with such nonchalant ease, it was deceiving.

Harry was certain the man could detect lies. If he tried to deny the truth, Mr Gaunt's left eye would twitch with repulsion. Then, in the middle of the forbidden forest, he would be forced to recite an old incantation from memory. It was a different every time and it would be horribly long too. If he made a single mistake then he'd have to restart from the beginning. Suffice to say, Harry had gotten familiar with spoken Latin.

One time, he decided to be Honest and confessed to Mr Gaunt that studying for divination was a waste of his time. Mr Gaunt was livid. The reward for telling the truth was the chance for Harry to defend himself. The punishment was the hardest duel he had ever fought.

Now, Harry had found it in his interest to do his best in class. It was the least troublesome thing to do. He was annoyed with Mr Gaunt over it. His way of expressing his concern was overly ambitious and unreasonable.

"Put down the book, you look like a dork," said George.

Harry stared at the three. "No," he said, then continued to study.

Maybe, if Mr Gaunt saw Harry attempt his best to get the top grade, he wouldn't be so bothered if didn't. Harry struggled to focus. The extra pressure had made him frustrated. Maybe Ron was right, Mr Gaunt was a dead weight who wasn't helpful, instead, demanding.

I shouldn't have to repeat – surely, you're clever enough – you've proven yourself capable
Mr Gaunt's bothered tone rang in his head like an unreachable alarm clock.

He would have a screaming fit if Harry called it quits. Nonetheless, Harry longed to tell Mr Gaunt to back off. After all, he wasn't his parent or professor. Not even Molly and Arthur harassed him like this. Lupin had been his teacher and he never bothered Harry to the extent Mr Gaunt had.

Like lighting, horror struck him. Tonight, he was supposed to meet Mr Gaunt. Harry freaked. He hurried out to his dorm and changed into his neatest pants and cleanest shirt. Appearances mattered to Mr Gaunt. then rushed out into the cold autumn air, almost jogging to the forest. Sometimes he wished that they could met someplace warmer.

Making his way through the forest, his mind was frantic. He would be late. Mr Gaunt would not be pleased. Harry wanted to stop and go back, eat ice-cream for dessert and forget about the charms test. The thought was comforting but he couldn't snub Mr Gaunt. He had done so much. And when things were good, they were the best. He wanted to make Mr Gaunt proud but couldn't comprehend the level of work he demanded of him.

Clutching his pendulum, he was running. Hopefully, he wasn't too late. He wanted a good catch up or something positive. Hermione hasn't been as supportive as she used to be. Nowadays, she was dismissive about things.

He ran into something and almost fell back but two firm hands grabbed his sides and kept him straight.

"Harrison?"

Harry came out of his thoughts and found himself in Mr Gaunt's hold. Mr Gaunt didn't look angry. In fact, he seemed concerned.
"You forgot your cloak," he said.

Harry had a symphony of explanations in his head. None of them exited his mouth.

Mr Gaunt stretched his lips. A typical sign that said he was bothered.
"Come here," he said, outstretching an arm over Harry's shoulders, wrapping him under his warm cloak. "Tell me what's bothering you,"

Harry was confused. He had no idea why Mr Gaunt was acting this way.
"Aren't I late?" he asked.

"No, we're meeting tomorrow. Unless you want to train now, but I'd recommend against it. It's too cold for that." He said.

Harry came a day early. Embarrassment burned in him like hot coals. He shook off Mr Gaunt's arm and shifted away. He didn't look at his mentor. The man had a searching look in his eye, as if he was always trying to decipher what Harry was thinking. Harry loathed it. He wanted to tell Mr Gaunt to quit it.
"I don't know what's wrong, okay?!" he said.

Mr Gaunt didn't answer but Harry had his attention.

He didn't like that. "I'm sorry! It's my fault, isn't it? I dragged you out here over nothing, I'm just really disappointing," Harry was just talking, saying anything to force distance between himself and Mr Gaunt's eyes.
"I'm a lazy, rash, gryffindor boy who's lost his wits. I just can't be the best, I'm not the best. But you only want the best, why do you even waste your time on me? Why I do I waste my time on you? Everyone thinks you're a dark wizard! So, everyone thinks I'm a dark wizard! Maybe I am? I don't know! I've used an unforgivable on a dragon, is that dark? Am I bad now, have I already failed everyone, has Voldemort won?"

Harry lost his words after he accidentally caught a glimpse of Mr Gaunt's expression. It looked like he wanted to laugh, yell and lecture all at the same time.

Mr Gaunt exhaled. Took a moment and collected himself. "We're going back to mine," he decided.

"Why?" Harry said in frustration.

"Because Dumbledore has put strange ideas in your head and the war has made you paranoid. Now come on," He said, pulling Harry to his side.

They apparated away. This time to a lighthouse. Harry glanced around the hexagonal interior. The furniture was different but the stacks of books, clutter and numerous artifacts were the same. Mr Gaunt ushered him to a chair by the fire. He then gently draped a quilt over Harry shoulders.

There was a loud crashing from outside. Harry glanced out one of the narrow windows. It was harrowing down with rain outside. He couldn't see anything beyond that. Then a kettle whistled prompting Mr Gaunt to finish making some tea.

He brought a cup over to Harry. "It's well sugared."

Harry peered at the liquid in his cup, Pitch black. He would have thought it was coffee but even that had a brown tint to it. He took a sip to be polite. It was overly sweet, he tasted that much, the rest of the flavour was a mystery.

Mr Gaunt sat in a vintage rocking chair opposite him. Harry wouldn't have picked it to be the kind of thing he would own. However, as Mr Gaunt pushed the chair into gentle motion with the tip of his foot, it seemed to suit him. Mr Gaunt cradled his tea in his hands, staring out into the rainy abyss outside, his mind elsewhere.

It was peaceful, there in the small quiet room. Harry got to share Mr Gaunt's space, His home. His body protected under a homely quit, with a cup of sugary tea by a crackling fire. His previous worries somehow left his mind. Everything felt right. He wanted to say it was like the burrow but that didn't feel like an accurate description.

Mr Gaunt sighed. "This is one of those conversations that needs to be done right," he said, still partly thinking his words through. "In a respectful, open-minded sense,"

Harry didn't say anything and took another sip of tea.

Thunder roared outside, Mr Gaunt proceeded unfazed, "I think it best to start with the elephant in the room. So, as scary as the drama is, this war isn't your fight Harrison. You are under no obligation to rally under Dumbledore just because he's your headmaster. That's an unreasonable expectation,"

Harry had no idea about the 'war' Mr Gaunt kept on mentioning. Things seemed peaceful to him. Though, he hasn't seen much of wizarding Brittan so it's not like he knew for certain.

"As for the Dark Lord… one unforgivable spell won't make you a death eater. In that area, he has no interest in you. After all, you're just a Hogwarts boy."

Harry laughed. Then stopped. Mr Gaunt was visibly offended by the impulsive reaction.
"Sorry, I just know he does," Harry cautiously said. He should have explained the whole story about his scar when they first met.

"Harrison," Mr Gaunt growled. "I assure you, the Dark Lord isn't interested. Besides, you'd be wasted amongst death eaters. He'd probably prefer you to continue study, reach your potential and become a cunning, young wizard." He then paused awkwardly. "And loyal… very loyal..." he added in afterthought.

Without thinking, Harry laughed again but stopped.
"You don't understand," he said. "he killed my parents and left me with the scar. It's because of him that stuck with the Dursleys."

For a moment, Harry genuinely mistook Mr Gaunt's ice-blue eyes for red. Clearly, he had said something rude. Harry could feel the rage emanating from Mr Gaunt's poised body. Thankfully, the emotion disolved like a fuse leading to a dud explosive.

"Harrison, don't you dare believe such lies, It was Dumbledore who left you with those disgusting muggles," said Mr Gaunt.

Harry didn't respond. He didn't understand what Mr Gaunt was trying to do.

"Trust me," Mr Gaunt attempted to say soothingly. "for all they say about the Dark Lord, he wouldn't do that. There's nothing to gain out of orphaning pure children,"

"He's tried to kill me multiple times," Harry insisted.

"No, he hasn't."

"Yes! He has!"

"Harrison," Mr Gaunt warned. "The Dark Lord has never tried to kill you!"

They locked eyes.

"He killed them." Harry said, "and he wants to kill me too."

Mr Gaunt was quiet for long time. He stared at Harry, his eyes dug at the boy. "He would never harm you."

"And how would you know?" Harry suspiciously questioned.

"We've brushed shoulders," Mr Gaunt said.

Mr Gaunt gripped his arm rests. The conversation was going terribly. If the topic was elaborated further, more lies would be needed to cover the ultimate truth.

Harry's eyes widen. Ron had been right. The revelation sent his heart racing. Just who was Mr Gaunt?
He put down his cup and shook the quilt from his shoulders. He stood, eyes still locked with Mr Gaunt's.

"Harrison," the man tried to persuade, "let me explain…"
He sounded so warm and gentle but It was deceiving. Harry knew he had to leave. The man was out of touch like he came from another time.

"Take me back," Harry demanded.

Mr Gaunt's mind succumbed to chaos. Harrison was lost. He could see it in the boy's eyes. He rejected him. Mr Gaunt had been rejected. That couldn't be allowed. It needed to be fixed. Harrison was his own, fate's gift only for him. Harrison couldn't leave, he wasn't allowed, he had to stay.

However, the boy was too heavily indoctrinated by the order. That was why this happed. After all, he couldn't forget an infant that survived his own killing curse. Harrison had been fed lies. He had to be liberated. Clearly, the order wanted to manipulate the boy. Unfortunately, Harrison's salvation would have to be done with careful planning.

Not that Harrison would accept such a gesture now but that wouldn't be a problem for long. The boy was cornered, only he could take Harrison back to Hogwarts. They could have a second try with a softer conversation. And if they were going to redo it, Mr Gaunt may as well as use the opportunity to indulge his whimsy.

Mr Gaunt was back to his relaxed self. It set Harry on edge.

"I'll be honest, I'm good at getting what I want but I'm just so terrible at wanting things." said Mr Gaunt

Harry's eyes darted around the room looking for a way out. The only exit was behind Mr Gaunt.

"It's embarrassing but I've been playing out this little fantasy in my mind, rather low of me really. But imagine you and I, standing over a pathetic mud-blood. You, so close at my side that I can feel your body warmth. And I, gently guiding your timid arm to aim, while your beautiful emerald eyes water with hesitation. Then with some encouragement, you whisper the incantation and effortlessly execute the spell. It'd be your first kill,"

Harry felt a weight drop in his chest. He had to get out and leave. Mr Gaunt was very bad.

His optimism drowned when Mr Gaunt stood. The man was much taller than Harry, notably stronger too. He took a single step forward and managed get an arm around Harry's torso, constricting him. A bone white wand emerged from the other free hand and aimed at Harry's skull.
"Pardon these actions," Mr Gaunt said. "I can't lose you."

There was no escape, Harry knew it. His though mind was half way to the door, his body was frozen in Mr Gaunt's grasp. The man smiled down at him. Too little action, too late, Harry was at his mercy.

After a long-dreaded minute locked in Mr Gaunt's unavoidable gaze, the man finally said, "Obliviate."

The boy blacked out. Harrison went limp in Mr Gaunt's arm. He looked down at his boy. The child still his prized prince. He carefully placed Harrison back onto his chair, rewrapping the quilt around him. Then went about making a new batch of tea. A new flavour of course, the scent of the original might trigger a fit of absente memoriae. If that happened, then Harrison would have to be taken to St Mungo's.

-~o~-

Harry's hazy eyes opened. He felt strangely numb in the head.

"Harrison."
The voice was soft sounding, it reminded him of someone.

Harry's vision came into focus. Mr Gaunt was kneeling over him, looking worried.

"Harrison?"

Harry's mind was blank. The was only dizziness in his head. He just wanted to sleep the feeling off.

"Come on now."

Harry shut his eyes and felt himself drift away again.

Mr Gaunt cupped Harry's cheek in his hand and softly caressed it. "Wake up, Harrison," he whispered.

Harry smiled at the touch and blinked his eyes back open. Mr Gaunt's mouth nervously twitched into a curve. Something must have happened. Harry tried to ask what but moaned instead.

"Hush, a lot has happened," Mr Gaunt said.

Harry tensed his brows confused.

"You don't remember?" Mr Gaunt questioned.
He took his hand away to readjust the quilt around Harry.

Harry didn't answer. He just admired the gentle man before him. He wasn't being his usual self but his sincere concern was nice.

Mr Gaunt showed a slight frown. "Not even a small detail?" he rephrased.

Harry was too tired to respond. It was like he woke in the infirmary, but in Mr Gaunt's house instead.

Mr Gaunt got a cup and filled it with freshly brewed tea. Floral fumes erupted from the liquid. He held the cup out to Harry's mouth. Harry eyed it, unsure what to make of the gesture.

"It will help the with drowsiness," Mr Gaunt insisted.

Harry leaned forward and was overcome by a wave of weakness. He could barely lift his arm to take the cup.

Mr Gaunt eased him upright and moved the cup closer to his mouth. Harry took a sip, it tasted sweet, like sucking on honey drops. Immediate relief came over him. The dizzying numbness in his head melted away, giving warmth and strength to his body. He was still confused. His memories felt blurred, like an artist got a paint scraper and smeared his mind. The last of what he could recall was hurrying through the forbidden forest. Somehow, from there, he ended up in this hexagonal room.

Mr Gaunt noticed Harry's confused observations.
"You were in a panic so I brought you here. Then you just fainted, it gave me a bit of a scare," He said.

Harry buried himself deeper into the quilt. He didn't care much about how he came here.

Mr Gaunt smiled at him. The boy was sweet when he was exhausted. Placing tea cup on a nearby table, he gave Harry's hair a ruffle. Then went to a tiny kitchenet in the corner.
"Have you eaten?" he asked.

Remembering that he walked out of the great hall before food was served, Harry shook his head.

"I'll cook us some bacon and eggs then," he decided.
Mr Gaunt retrieved the ingredients and was soon frying away. The room began to fill with the smell of bacon.

Harry carefully moved closer to the kitchenette, bringing the quilt along with him. Even with the fire crackling, the room was still chilly. He sat on a stool by a small cluttered table. One half was clear enough to fit a plate and maybe a glass, while the rest was covered in maps. He couldn't help but look at them. He often wondered about the things Mr Gaunt had. Observing the topography before him, he noticed one was titled Godric's Hollow. That was where his parents used to live. On the map various house plots were marked with a red cross.

An echo boomed from outside, snapping Harry from his focus. He looked to a window to see what the sound was. It was pitch black outside, all he could see were streams of raindrops reflecting back light. He hadn't noticed the intense storm raging outside.

"Bon Appetit," Mr Gaunt announced as he placed a plate before Harry. He then hurried to clear the rest of the table for himself.

Harry looked at his plate, it was what he considered Dursley portions. There were three large rashers of bacon next to thick slices of bread, topped with sunny side up eggs. Once Mr Gaunt had given him some cutlery, he was eating away. It was delicious. He hadn't realised how hungry he was until the food was in his mouth.

Mr Gaunt ate with him. He seemed pleased that Harry was enjoying the meal.

"That was really good," Harry said, remembering his manners, "thank you."

"No worries, it's nice to have company for once," Mr Gaunt answered.

Harry's throat tightened. He had fainted right in front of Mr Gaunt. That was an embarrassing realisation.
"I have no idea what happened," he confessed. "the last thing I can recall was being in the forbidden forest, I don't even know why I was there."

"Harrison, it's alright. I doubt you could stop yourself from fainting," Mr Gaunt assured him.

Harry took a bite from the last piece of bread and egg. He didn't think he could eat so much but his appetite seemed to think otherwise.
"I don't know, there's been a lot going on. Nothing big, just one small thing after the other. I don't feel as comfortable in Hogwarts as I used to."

"How so?"

After a hesitant pause, Harry said, "there's so much drama because of the tournament. Nobody trusts me or listens to what I say. All of Gryffindor is watching me like a hawk because they think I'm becoming a dark wizard."

Mr Gaunt chuckled. "You're not going dark Harrison, it's not in your nature," he said, lifting Harry's mood.
"I imagine that if you implemented dark magic, you would have done so out of necessity. Which is how it should be treated, respectfully. That won't make you a dark wizard. Trust me, I've met quite a few."

"Yeah, it's silly thinking. Unfortunately, no one seems to see it that way," Harry said.

Mr Gaunt sighed. "It's a stigma that's hard to escape, most of what's in this room is considered dark magic by ministry standards," he told Harry, "magic isn't light or dark, Wizards are corruptible beings and that's where the problem lies. In fact, my movement have found evidence suggesting that the ministry has intentionally made many areas of magical practice forbidden."

Harry finished off his plate and curiously asked, "Why would they do that?"

"It's a way of controlling magic. They dwindle it down to an acceptable, manageable level. It's done slowly of course," Mr Gaunt explained. "The consequences are terrible, art forms are lost along with recorded knowledge. Education is affected the most, with each generation that graduates from Hogwarts becoming weaker."

"Does that mean I'm weaker?" Harry said. He didn't want to consider that Tom Riddle might have gotten a better education than him.

"Not at all, if you work hard and do your best, you'll be a brilliant wizard," said Mr Gaunt.

Harry felt a bit relieved. "Does it have something to do with the statute of secrecy?" he asked.

"Partly," Mr Gaunt answered. "the general belief is that weaker wizards are easier to hide from muggles. It also makes it easier for the muggle-borns to practice magic."

Harry didn't entirely believe what Mr Gaunt was suggesting. Hermione was a muggle-born and she was more talented than most of the pure-bloods.

"It's a real issue, Harrison," Mr Gaunt said, sensing Harry's doubt.
He stood and retrieved a book from a stack behind him. He returned, flicking through the pages before settling on a spread.
"Benseman Mahler explains it the best."
He took a deep breath then read aloud, "I know it to be true that a child of pure magical heritage will be well versed in the magical arts. Not because any special hereditary gift or especially magical blood. Rather, because of the context which they are raised in. For such child everything has magic, its existence is unquestioned from the beginning. A child of pure parentage can approach magic with fearless ease. More convenient yet, the child not only has access to an entire schooling but also an extended family worth of magical knowledge. Preservation of the old ways is fundamental for magical teaching. We have already lost so much ancient magic over the centuries. Passing on family potion recipes and secret spells is a key part of maintaining the magical ability. So, I do believe witches and wizards raise talented and magically adept children."

Harry listened to Mr Gaunt's reading. He didn't appreciate of tone of the author. Crab and Goyle weren't anything special. Neville wasn't exactly confident with magic either. After a deep breath Mr Gaunt continued.

"Now, I require you to consider a muggle-born child. The resources which a pure-blood child has at disposal, a muggle-born lacks completely. It is hard to teach a muggle-born magic. There is no foundation to work upon. To a muggle-born all magic is new magic. They will be slow. Which is completely expected and not at all wrong. Magic is an overwhelming force to understand. What concerns me is their hesitant approach. Muggle-borns tend to avoid risks with magic. They will be weaker by consequence. With that said, the wider context gives justification as to why that is. Muggle society does not champion magical excellence. If two muggles produced a child who unknowingly conjures an object, it is a miracle, no matter how insignificant the act of magic is. Many reputable studies on muggle culture indicate that a minor act of magic is held in higher regard than a feat of magical excellence. The power of magic is feared by muggles. Therefore Muggle-borns can't be magically brilliant. They are required to be nothing more than a magician. Failure to do so would put them in a troublesome position."

So, pure-bloods are better exposed to magic and muggle-borns are pressured to be normal. That was something Harry already knew. He still was a lost as to why Mr Gaunt was reading him this.

"We now come to Hogwarts, a controversial institute since its founding. Personally, I find public magically schooling vastly preferable to private home-tutoring. It provides our youth with a playground to learn and more importantly, safety to fail. I praise Hogwarts because I praise freedom of magical expression. It's wonderful that our children are given it when they need it most. However, the curriculum is certainly worthy of its criticism. The downfall of educating large groups is that it tends to cater for lesser capable. The objective is quaintly instead of quality. The professors want their class to control magic wisely, not have a student preform greatness. Fair, but when you have a pure-bloods sharing desks with muggle-borns, problems arise. The pure-blood starts with a level of magical control because their family has taught them prior. While the muggle-borns believe they're a miracle but are scared to be anything more. So, the professors often choose to cater to the muggle-borns. The purebloods are left alone as most of them are on track to passing the criteria. Eventually, the class appears to be at the same level, with some exceptions here and there. From outside looking in, all is well. Except it isn't, talent has been denied. A generation has become weaker. If we want to preserve magic, then the preservation must start in the classroom. Otherwise, over the generations, magic will dwindle down to nothing and we be nothing more than magicians."

Harry didn't say anything. He wanted to disagree outright, but Benseman had made a valid argument. He remained confused about the point of it. Most of that was just a more fleshed out explanation of what Mr Gaunt had already said.

Mr Gaunt snapped the book shut and coughed a bit. It was an awfully long piece to read aloud.
"If wizards are becoming weaker then muggles are becoming stronger," he stated.

Harry didn't get what he was hinting at.

Mr Gaunt placed the book on the table then collected the dishes. "It's a strategic move, we're being weakened on purpose. Magic is a power which becomes an influence. Muggles fear magic, they fear the influence, therefore wizards must go," He said while rising plates.

"Are you saying muggle-borns are making wizards weaker," Harry asked with an accusing tone.

Mr Gaunt returned to his seat. He leaned in, staring into Harry's eyes with invested interest. "No, not at all. I'm saying they're a means of weakening magic," he said, smiling oddly.

Harry pulled back from Mr Gaunt's gripping stare. It was like he had fallen down the rabbit hole. Despite all of Mr Gaunt's good characteristics, his beliefs were the complete opposite of his friends. That was probably why Ron hated him so much. To him Mr Gaunt was on par with Mr Malfoy. Then an idea came to Harry's head. He dreaded the thought but it demanded to be confirmed.

"Are you a death eater?" His question earned a stern look from Mr Gaunt.

"No."

"Do you know any?"

Harry was answered with a smirk. "Plenty."

Harry's head flipped. Mr Gaunt was good but also unnervingly bad. His mind has a sudden revelation. He knew the word that described Mr Gaunt and it surprised him.
"Are you dark?" He asked.

Mr Gaunt's ice-blue eyes shone when he said, "Wonderfully so."

Harry quietly chuckled. It was the only response he could think of. Ron was right, Mr Gaunt was a dark wizard. yet, somehow it wasn't nearly as terrible as Harry thought it would be. Mr Gaunt hadn't changed, he was still caring and helpful. It was just odd to know, he hadn't met a dark wizard before. Well, he had met some but they didn't really count.

"What are you laughing at?" Mr Gaunt asked.

"I don't know, this is different." Harry said.

Mr Gaunt's charming attitude had returned. "See? There's nothing bad about dark magic, I'm the living proof," he said.

Harry smiled like he was starting to understand the world better. "Yeah."

-~o~-

Mr Gaunt had escorted Harry back to where he found him. He said he didn't think it safe for him to be in the lighthouse but he was uncomfortable with the idea of Harry returning after all that happened. Harry was given another sachet of the special floo powder to use only in an emergency.

Harry wandered through the forbidden forest. He used to be scared of the place, now it was just normal. He smirked remembering how back in first year Voldemort almost killed him here. It was odd how things changed since then.

Panting and rustling suddenly chased after him. Harry flicked out his wand and sharply took in his surroundings. There was a person nearby, he could tell from the type of noise.

Igor Kakaroff came into view. Harry never liked the look of the grungy man. It didn't help that Sirius said he had been a death eater.

"Harry, Oh- Merlin! you're Harrison… Harry Potter, you're Harrison," Igor sputtered through pants.

Harry glared at him. The only who got to call him Harrison was Mr Gaunt.

Igor crouched over, resting his hands on his knees. From the way he was panting, harry might have thought the man had ran a marathon.
"Look, that man…" He stared pointedly at Harry as he spoke, "He's trouble. trust me, I'd know. And you may not believe me, but you know too. Just end it now, I know what's happening, you've got a chance… but Harry, Oh- you've got to end it… yes? finish this."

They stared at the other. Minutes passed, nothing was said. Harry slowly turned his back on Igor and began to leave. The oddest noise came from Igor, it was like a huffed whine.

"Harry, surely you know something is odd about him. That magic of his, the power he has, look inside yourself and you'll recognise it. He's dangerous, playing into your weaknesses. You'll end up broken, an empty shell of what you currently are," Igor persisted.

Harry continued walking. "You don't know a thing about Mr Gaunt and I," he uttered.

Igor gave an odd crack of laughter. "Mr Gaunt?" He stumbled after Harry. "Oh- he's a slippery bastard for sure. Harry, you've known that man since you were a baby."

Harry ignored him. It seemed everyone hated Mr Gaunt. just because Mr Gaunt was a dark wizard, doesn't mean he was an evil wizard. The fact he wasn't a death eater was plenty of proof.

"Harry!" Igor shouted, "Don't make this bloody mistake. We've all been at his mercy before, quit now. Continue and you will ruin your life."

Harry snapped around and glared at Igor Kakaroff. "Shut up, just because he isn't in your death eater ranks doesn't mean you can stop me from seeing him!" he said.

Igor laughed hard. He got close to losing his voice. His entire body shook with the noised but it seemed more like fear. "Oh- it's because I was a death eater, that I can say this. That man, was the worst thing to have ever happen to you. You have the warning boy, I can't believe you don't see it, but hey- he's that good at legitimens I suppose," he said with a rasp.

With that, Igor shuffled away. Harry eyed his movements, frowning to himself. Mr Gaunt had gone from being suspected death eater to suspicious dark lord. What a joke, if anyone knew a dark lord, it was Harry. Voldemort tried to kill five times so far. Mr Gaunt hadn't shown the slightest inclination to even harm him. In fact, it was annoying how protective Mr Gaunt was. He wouldn't let a single spell from Rodolphus's wand hit Harry. Implying Mr Gaunt was You-Know-Who was sheer stupidity. Igor probably saw Mr Gaunt's mentorship as an unfair advantage in Harry's favour and sought to stop it.

Harry managed to get to bed without any trouble. The teachers didn't seem to notice much these days. He looked forward to sleep. It was like returning home to someone. A person whose name escaped him, but he knew them very well, like an old friend. He settled under his blankets. The nights were getting colder but somehow, he was always perfectly comfortable before sleep. His eyes closed, casting him out into the darkness. There, the nameless person waited. Like always, they caught Harry's dreaming mind and cradled it close.