He quickly maneuvered the wand into his sleeve, to hide its distinctive appearance. He really wasn't in the mood to get accused of stealing Dumbledore's wand. He just quickly shot a bolt of energy through the on hole in the stove. He supposed there was probably a proper name for the hole in the stove, but he had never asked. That probably wasn't important right now. What was more important was the question of what was actually happening. He nohadn't really questioned anything to be quite honest. He had been preoccupied with panicking in the toilet and making cookies.
But now, it wasn't just him in the past. It wasn't just the Elder Wand doing some spell Harry didn't know. Well maybe it was, but it wasn't a simple spell. The Elder Wand, previously broken in half, was now in Harry's hand. His wand, the one he'd had then, was gone, missing. That had to be solved later. But what exactly had happened? And more importantly did it matter what had happened?
"Harry!" Hermione's voice woke Harry up from his thoughts. This ought to stop happening. This was the second time in 30 minutes.
Sirius seemed worried, "Harry, why don't you go back to bed. We'll put the cookies in the oven ok."
Still a bit lost, still a bit frozen in thought, Harry just walked upstairs. Almost on autopilot, he pulled out his dream journal from divination and started writing, writing and writing and writing. And when he heard an alarm from the stove he kept writing. It was only until Sirius was knocking on the door and he said, "Cookies?" that Harry stopped.
His hand startled to a halt, and Sirius looked at him, clearly still alarmed. But Harry's godfather didn't say anything. He just levitated the cookies in front of Harry. With a little burst of shock, Harry stared at the magic surrounding the small spell.
"Your magic is dark?" Harry asked, incredulous.
Sirius looked a bit confused, "um… Harry I've known you for 2 years, you've seen me use magic."
Harry couldn't exactly say, I used to have Riddle's soul in me, and then he kinda killed it, and then I came back to the past, but for some reason, I can still see magic. So instead he just said, "I guess I've been preoccupied."
"You don't, you don't think dark magic is BAD right?" Sirius asked.
Harry froze, he didn't have an answer. When he had first started seeing the magic, he had thought he must have just misunderstood the meaning of dark, just because so many people had purples and blues in their magic that it can't have been so bad. Then Ron had said something about having too much dark magic made you evil. Hermione had argued with him. Harry had stayed silent, and resolved not to use magic at all. He knew it sounded weird. Everyone had already seen his magic, no-one was going to run away screaming. But there was some form of terror that the horcrux had changed his magic somehow. Hermione told him that his magic had always been a muted pastel colour, indicative of his grey unspecified magic, not suited to anything in particular, but not against it. Something told him that wasn't right.
But anyway, he was pretty sure dark magic wasn't bad, that hating it was some form of prejudice, so he just shook his head quietly.
Sirius grinned, "Good. I was scared for a moment that you'd absorbed some of those weird beliefs some Light families teach their children."
Harry squinted, "Light families?"
"Like dark families? Didn't you learn this in that orientation Hermione was talking about yesterday?"
"No?! That's for muggleborns."
Sirius looked at Harry, he seemed to be re-evaluating all his life choices, "Harry, you're muggle raised."
"Yes, and..."
"You had no previous education about the world you live in!"
Harry squinted, "I don't think the muggleborns get that much of an orientation."
"Harry, they get other education too!"
"What?" Harry tilted his head.
"Oh god, the muggle education system cannot be that bad," Sirius muttered.
"Ok," Sirius said "Where did you think all the muggleborns went in that period I presume you had free? There weren't any electives in First Year"
"I thought they were in a club" Harry said.
"No! How did they forget to put you in the program? They remembered during a war! The only people who don't go are the kids they're scared will get attacked for their blood. And those kids still get taught, just at a different time."
Harry stared at Sirius, his green eyes wide, blown open. It was curious how worked up someone could get over Harry, he'd never really had an adult care so much before.
But it didn't really matter. He could do spare reading or something if he'd really missed so much. And the class can't have been great if Hermione didn't even know how to use a magical stove.
Sirius rolled his eyes, "Look, we'll sort this out in the morning. Eat your cookies, go to sleep."
Still confused, still lost in thought, Harry focused in on the most important thing in his head right now, "Where are Ron and Hermione?"
"They're eating downstairs, K. I'll see you in the morning.'
Harry nodded gaze already growing blurry. He stuffed a cookie into his mouth and as he lay in bed, he could feel his eyes gradually close.
He was standing in front of Voldemort. Still. Green light flooded his view. Terror filled his heart, no matter of selflessness could hide one from the inate fear of death, no matter how much you tell yourself that the death is necessary. He wanted to run but he couldn't, because he needed to die. He had to die. He had to die. He was destined to die. And then the world was white, not green, and a silhouette appeared.
That memory told him he was in front of an old man. Dumbledore. Or was it someone else. No Dumbledore his memory told him.
The fact that he could remember this should probably have caused a reaction. It didn't. Harry just stood there.
Dumbledore looked very Gandolf today, he had a staff. Harry had never seen Dumbledore with a staff. The old man was older than usual, older than memory, older than now, then the image flickered. The silhouette was Lily, then Remus, then Tonks, James, Snape, Fred, then none of them, then all of them. They all looked very Gandolf today. Not in age. They just... Felt powerful. It was curious that they all had the same magic. They weren't casting a spell. Why was the magic everywhere? There was a baby on the floor. It was flayed. Harry didn't say anything. He hated that baby. Not totally. Just a little.
Harry woke up. He didn't feel like screaming. But he was filled with something. Not fear. Something.
