"If you kept the small rules,
you could break the big ones."*
"Is that an ... apron?"
The Hufflepuffs who rose the earliest were surprised to find the kitchen in a state of turmoil never seen before. Like a ship's crew, some of the house elves were singing along, while others were trying to push the younger students out of the kitchen, who were attracted by the singing and the commotion.
Among the pots that levitated from one stove to another and the jars of jam that dematerialized to appear on the tables of the Great Hall, was Harry, wand in hand, also singing and following the instructions of the house elf at the head of the kitchens.
He turned to the voice that had called out to him, a half-smile on his lip distorting the scar that split his floury cheek. "Yeah, it's a lot easier to wipe your hands than to use a Cleaning Charm every time."
Behind Moody's perplexed look, Harry caught a glimpse of Merlin's curvy little figure bending in half as she leaned on Egon's shoulder. Even with the high-pitched squealing voices of the house elves, anyone could hear the two of them cackling with laughter.
Tahlia took pity on the situation. She tried to get past the barrage of house elves by pulling out her wand, showing that she too could help. They would only let her through after she had bewitched one of the giant wooden spoons that was used to stir the huge pot of gravy for the lunch and freed one of the elves from his task.
She pursed her lips, as if to rebuke a smile and sought Harry's gaze. "I think Mad-Eye didn't want to know the practical reason for carrying it, but rather why you're helping in the kitchen."
"Why not?" Harry unrolled a long pie dough on one of the tables and tossed a Severing Charm to make strips of it. "Aside from the fact that housework is a great exercise in wielding our magic, I thought you were looking to change things."
Tahlia's delicate brow frowned slightly, Her eyelids, still half closed from her recent awakening, covered her blurry gaze as she searched for an adequate answer.
She was dazed long enough for a first year to step forward and also show his usefulness: he loudly uttered the spell used to clean the dishes and threw it at the sink that was beginning to overflow with dirty utensils and pots.
Even if the house elves were also gifted with magic, they were barely enough in number to handle everything in the kitchen at once, especially if one excluded those busy managing the barricade that filtered the curious Hufflepuff from those who now actually wanted to help.
Before anyone could object, the kitchens were flooded with first years more than determined to participate in the kitchen activity. The house elf in charge of supervising the kitchens was squealing directions to his fellow elves, and, even if the instructions were never directly addressed to the students, they would follow them too—meticulously.
Harry lowered his wand and watched the surprising new turn of events.
Some of the house elves seemed particularly uncomfortable being assisted, especially when the teenagers started asking them what they could do after they had completed a task. However, this new angle proved one of Harry's points, that everyday tasks allow one to better manipulate their magic or discover unsuspected uses for it.
A group of third years was excited to see one of the older elves levitate and manipulate a dozen knives so that they could slice through huge amounts of bread. On the other side of the kitchen, a first year student was trying to duplicate an elf's technique of hollowing out a pumpkin and then squeezing the pulp to extract the juice.
The sound of Moody's staff preceded his voice, all the more hoarse in the morning, "you just created monsters. You know that, right?"
"Me?" asked Harry, a bit fazed. "I didn't think… It's just that I didn't get much sleep last night. I was thinking about—" He waved his hand between him and Moody. "Everything. I got tired of it. I tried to read to clear my head, but my eyes kept replaying the same sentence over and over... so I came here. I enjoy the company of house elves. They remind me of dear friends; one of them was an active defender of creature rights." Harry shook his head, laughing faintly, "We've come full circle. We're back to the equality issue you were talking about and that I was trying to detach my thoughts from."
"Myself, when I am obsessed with a subject, nothing can keep me from seeing it in the smallest detail…" Moody paused for a moment to observe the joyous chaos unfolding before them. "And you think it has a real purpose?"
"What has a purpose? Applying magic under different conditions than in a classroom or pruning your tolerance criteria?"
Moody let out a grunt and his prosthetic eye seemed to lose some of its colour. "You know what? Don't pay attention to what I say. I overestimated myself. I need a cup of tea before we get into that kind of debate. Or maybe a glass of firewhiskey... "
A white-coloured spell was cast in the direction of Moody's ribs.
"Don't you think it's a little too early for that?" Tahlia admonished.
"I think it's especially too early for you to assault me with a Stinging Hex." Moody growled, as he massaged the affected spot while glaring at Tahlia.
Umbridge winced as he watched with disdain the elves and the younger ones busily peeling potatoes.
He clicked his tongue curtly. "Now what? You expect me to believe that scrubbing toilets is the new path to excel with our magic? You've got to be kidding me."
The tall Hufflepuff with the blond crew-cut hair, whose name Harry didn't know yet, laughed heartily as he spun Umbridge around and shoved him in the direction of the Great Hall. "Speaking of drinks, go get your coffee instead, Orford. You're not bearable until the third cup."
Umbridge snorted haughtily, but chose to take the advice.
Far enough away, Moody turned around. His magical prosthetic eye whirring as he scanned the kitchen at lightning speed, before landing on the tall blond Hufflepuff. "I can give it a shot. The younger ones seem to find it useful… Algic, go get Robert, find your sisters and their friends. I think they'll like—"
"No! No!" The house elf in charge of the kitchen suddenly squealed. "Enough! They is enough!"
Another elf, hearing this, stopped what he was doing. With his spindly hands, he clutched the collar of his pillowcase embossed with the Hogwarts crest. "Salty is knowing that Bubbly is in need of help."
The house elf in charge of the kitchens was jumping down from his command post—a tureen, big enough to reach Harry's knees—but Algic was already crouched down next to Salty, asking him where they could go instead.
Harry took a step to find out more, but Moody's staff blocked his path.
"Leave it," the prefect said. "They'll do fine without you. Merlin is already waiting for you, she has volunteered to lead you around the castle until you find your footing. Go have some breakfast with the others. For today, I think you've already done enough."
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but no words escaped. He had done enough? What did he do exactly? Harry kept his question for himself, closed his mouth and just nodded before joining Merlin.
She gave him a smile that brightened her dimpled face. "If you would follow the guide; during the tour, please do not cause any further havoc," she teased with a wink.
Harry, who already knew the way, passed her and returned her wink. "Sorry, no promises."
"That doesn't sound ominous… Not at all."
The last to arrive at their table was Cedrella, elegantly stifling a yawn. She offered tea around her before helping herself, but it wasn't until her cup was filled that she discreetly glanced around, her eyes suddenly looking sharper.
"Something's wrong," she declared, smothering her voice in her steaming cup.
"Ten points to the 'puffs," Egon mocked as he leaned toward Cedrella. "Thanks, everyone noticed. Still trying to impress us with your divination abilities? Or—"
Merlin stopped him from saying more by shoving a piece of toast into his mouth. "You, sometimes," she grumbled. "This is really not the time for that."
Under other circumstances, Harry would probably have laughed, but at this moment—as Merlin had pointed out, it was certainly no time for jokes. The atmosphere in the Great Hall was pretty damn heavy. So much so that the students around them were rolling their shoulders as if to relieve themselves of an imaginary weight or to rid themselves of the glares that were boring into their backs.
Harry could see the source of this unbearable concentration of tension: it radiated from the Syltherin table.
The aura of their magic was buzzing with violent impulses. Every time one of the snakes grabbed a knife, Harry feared it would leap over the table and try to stab someone.
But all this was nothing. Nothing compared to the fact that Tom wasn't there. Harry could handle a crowd of students out for blood. What he might have trouble dealing with, however, was an unpredictable and angsty teenage Dark Lord, who was certainly the cause of this drastic change.
All the alarms in Harry's body were on high alert, so when metal creaks came from behind him, he jumped to his feet, his heart racing.
"Wow! Easy, kid!" Kettleburn appeased, a little taken aback. "Ready?"
"Oh yeah... My additional classes." Harry grabbed his bag. "Err, I haven't thought about it yet."
Harry was following the professor out of the Great Hall when someone bumped into him.
"Sorry!" Harry exclaimed.
"Get out of my way, vermin!" scolded a voice that sounded familiar.
Harry's eyes widened as he recognized the Syltherin in front of him: Dorea. Except this time her face was contorted in a sneer of disgust, more repulsed than she had squished a slug under her shoes.
This was unsettling for Harry, as after the previous night he had expected Dorea to be friendlier to members of other houses... Or maybe this demonstration was part of her cover to infiltrate the group Moody was talking about last night?
She walked around them and hurried away, leaving a piece of parchment on the ground behind her. Kettleburn shrugged and pretended that nothing happened, while Harry levitated the piece of parchment to himself and stuffed it into one of his pockets.
Harry only allowed himself to inspect the parchment once he had finished his long conversation—really long, the Head House took his role very seriously and could be a bit too chatty with a full pot of tea—and also quite far from Kettleburn's hut.
'They know you aren't who you claim to be ,' was written in a way that would make one think that several quills had broken from the hastiness of the author. 'The word has already begun to spread. '
Harry imagined that the 'they' defined the Slytherins, but what did that mean? He never claimed to be anyone but himself. And what word exactly? What problem could arise from the assumption that he was not who he said he was if that was the case? Anyway, if the Slytherin attitude this morning was anything to go by, it was nothing but trouble.
"Bad news?"
Harry flipped around, nerves on edge, to see Merlin with a curious expression that magnified her sparkling blue eyes.
"Merlin!" Harry shooted. "You scared me!"
"Sorry. Or not. Well? What's the matter with you? You look like you've met the Bloody Baron."
"Don't mind me… It's just, err—really, I don't know. Nothing to be concerned about now."
"Nothing? You sure—Oh! Not my business… I get it," she mumbled. "Um, a portrait told me you were out, so I came as quickly as I could. We can't stay here, otherwise Kettleburn will end up kidnapping you for good, and even if Dumbledore is pretty lenient on lateness, we can't abuse it."
Fortunately, during his sequestration, the Head House had been kind enough to arrange for food to be sent for lunch, otherwise Harry would probably be starving and certainly not able to cope with transfiguration.
As they entered the room, Harry and Merlin tried to go unnoticed because the class had already started, but Dumbledore interrupted what he was writing on the blackboard to turn around and pin them with his eyes.
"Miss Gamp, Mister Peverell. May I ask the reason for your late arrival?"
Merlin grinned broadly as she explained, but Harry didn't hear a word of it as he realized that the students present were Hufflepuffs pairing with Slytherins. The snakes in the room glared at him. Harry almost dreaded that they would transfigure him into a fly and try to pass off the attack as practice or a mistake.
Merlin left Harry's side and took her place next to Egon. This left only one seat in the front row, which Dumbledore designated to Harry. The student at the table turned around—the last Slytherin who hadn't done so before...
Harry should have known better, but swore through his teeth anyway, as Tom gave him a charming smile that promised nothing but terrible pain.
When he dropped heavily into his chair, Harry looked up at the ceiling, and then closed his eyes.
He searched between the distant sound of Dumbledore's speech explaining a part of the theory behind the conjurations and the murderous urges of the magic around him for some semblance of calm.
To isolate himself from the surrounding tension, he tried the first method of meditation offered in the introduction of Death's book—the same one he had read last night to divert his thoughts from his conversation with Moody without success. A simple method for recentring himself, similar to Occlumency, it was based on organizing his thoughts and strengthening his psychic barriers with visualization and breathing exercises.
It was at the twentieth long exhale that Dumbledore's voice became louder, as if to mark an important time in the lesson.
"Let's see the practical side, shall we? Take your wands out. Today's exercise will consist of Conjuring an inanimate object. You'll find it a lot more difficult than the Bird-Conjuring Charm that Madame Myriadd taught you in second grade. To quote Miss Goshawk and her book, 'for reasons not yet fully understood...two categories of creatures are easier to conjure than anything else: birds and snakes.' And because a reminder is never too much, remember that the elements such as water or fire, are still different concepts from the Conjuration branch." Dumbledore paused to note this information on the board. "Well, go ahead. Stay focused and concentrate only on an object no larger than the size of your hand. I don't want any of you to suffer magical exhaustion when you leave my class because you bit off more than you could chew trying to conjure a chair or an armor—"
Harry was acutely aware of his own magic crackling from his fingertips, he could feel the silky fabric of the invisibility cloak wrapped around the handle of his wand as it remained down, he could only think of one object as Dumbledore had asked... When he opened his eyes, he knew what he would find before him.
On his table lay an exact copy of the tureen used by the elf in charge of the kitchens as a command post. The first object that had crossed his mind while Dumbledore was giving the instructions for the exercise.
He was putting the reactivity of his magic over the habit of his former lives. Conjuring was something practical and useful, but something was bugging him. He wasn't sure if it had always been so easy for him to conjure anything… Even less without the help of a wand. Maybe it was because of the Elder wand?...
Another object appeared on the other side of the table. An elaborate sandglass held by impressive silver forged snakes.
Harry slowly turned his head to meet Tom's defiant gaze, as if to challenge him to surpass what he had created...
Harry then watched back the sandglass for a few seconds and found it truly impressive, but he couldn't help it, he had to take up the challenge—even if it was not to do better. Harry stretched his hand and a gray scratchy wool blanket fell heavily over his tureen.
Opposite him, one of Tom's eyelids twitched as he caught a glimpse of the new object that had just appeared out of thin air. He retorted by raising his wand; this time the hourglass shattered under the weight of several buckets of water and ice cubes that crushed it.
Harry groaned as he saw them, "Seriously?"
When Tom returned his full attention to Harry, his dark eyes flashed dangerously with a deep crimson. "The memories, too?" He leaned in, his voice a blood-curdling whisper, "you'll regret coming here. Deeply."
A long shiver ran up Harry's spine, as Tom was already turning back in the direction of the blackboard, basically ignoring him.
"Are you kidding me—"
"Impressive," interrupted Dumbledore, who had previously been occupied by another student and therefore only observed the presence of the objects spread out on the table. "Twenty points to Hufflepuff, for managing to complete two Conjurations." Dumbledore would give Harry a kind smile before observing Tom's work. His lips fell back as he noticed the buckets and the shards of glass and sand spilled on the desk. "As for you, Mister Riddle, I expect better from you than to Conjure water, something you learned to do in first year."
There was one thing Harry hated as much as being threatened, and that was people being unfair. With a wave of his wand he made the buckets vanish to clearly reveal the remains of the sandglass.
" Reparo, " he incanted with the appropriate gesture of his wand. Then, the silver snakes were straightened and the grains of sand returned encapsulated in the glass. "He made it too. If you don't mind, Professor Dumbledore, I would like to quote something myself."
The professor straightened up, clearly paying attention. "Go ahead, that will allow me to better judge your theoretical knowledge… even if the practice already seems to be in order."
"I would like to talk about one of Gamp's five laws. Like his principle that you can't create good food from thin air, you can't create complex objects that work perfectly from thin air either. Well, more precisely, the more complex the object created will be, the more convoluted the way it works... My comforter, for example, will warm me up, but perhaps it will do so by appropriating the warmth of those around me. This is usually how cursed objects appear in nature, and also why Gamp recommends that objects created from thin air should only be used once and then vanished."
Dumbledore blinked slowly as he crossed his arms behind his back. "That's right. You also serve me as an introduction for the rest of our lesson. I was going to talk about this after your experiments… But, tell me, why bring up this subtle peculiarity of the branch now?"
Harry, who had seen the creation of the hourglass first hand, turned to Tom, stretching a cheeky grin. "Did you want to explain how you got around an applied law of magic?"
Dumbledore shook his head, and gently mocked his students, "No. That's impossible. The reason behind why the laws exist, is to explain how magic works. No one can twist them to suit their will."
There was a kind of relaxation in the room, a spasm in the magical pressure that was emanating from the other Slytherins who were unconsciously matching the thick fog of darkness that Tom was casting off.
This moment of suspension was marked by the way he looked at Harry, his eyelids remained squinted, but his eyes no longer blazed red. He no longer considered Harry as someone to be murdered as soon as possible, but rather to be studied scrupulously.
So Tom did not turn to Dumbledore, but kept all his attention focused on Harry. "What makes you think that?"
"The way the sand flows." To show what he meant by that, Harry would turn the hourglass over so the sand would fall back down again. "It responds to the law of physics. Not the law of magic."
Dumbledore's laughter died as slowly as his eyes followed the grains gradually falling to the bottom of the hourglass. The students at the surrounding tables craned their necks to get a glimpse of what was going on; they were also a few of the more distant Hufflepuffs standing up to get a better look.
Next to Tom's hourglass, Harry conjured another one, which served to demonstrate the difference between the two: the sand on his hourglass counted down the time by rising upwards.
Tom judged Harry's work for a long time before speaking, "When you conjure a purely decorative object, it has no practical function. But I've found that there is no reason why it cannot have one after it has been created. One that he cannot divert, because it was not part of his making. So yes, the sand flows as expected in my case, because mine is composed. First by something purely aesthetic, then after I added in the dynamic element that created the function."
"And you double the chances of success by betting on sand—an elemental, and therefore meets much less stringent summoning requirements..." Dumbledore paused to observe the rest of the students. "Return to your seats. I remind you that you only have until the end of the hour to conjure an object."
He pulled out his wand and trapped the two hourglasses under a protective dome. "I need to contact the guild, and talk to them about this. Maybe some of them, more qualified in the field than me, are already aware of this kind of… bypass." He stepped away from the table and returned to his desk to address the class again. "I admit to having my curiosity piqued. Could you excuse me for a few moments? I'll leave you under the supervision of the portraits. In case my absence extends to the end of class, for next week I want two scrolls of parchment studying and detailing a Gamp's law of your choice. Well, if you will excuse me."
Harry found it amusing to see the wary excitement shining in Dumbledore's eyes, which was also expressed in his eagerness to return to his personal quarters and make a fire call. At the same time, it was impossible for Harry not to forget the origin of this debacle and this display of nerdy knowledge—thankfully, he had a few lifetimes ahead of him to make up for the geniuses around him.
The rest of the class went by without a murder attempt. Some students, depending on their respective houses, came to Tom or Harry for advice. Harry had no doubt that Tom's tutelage was in exchange for a future favor, but altruism wasn't one of the values of Slytherin house...
Nearing the end of class, all the students had managed to conjure at least one object, and Harry took advantage of the lull to grab a fresh roll of parchment and start the next assignment—his homework was the least of his priorities, but if he didn't do it, he'd be in more trouble.
"I think Dumbledore didn't completly understand what you did," Harry said, looking thoughtfully at what he had already written.
"And I'm sure he'll be able to hear it if you point it out to him."
Harry looked up from his parchment to peer at Tom. "But it's you who—"
"I have other things to do than fight over this. Dumbledore has many qualities, and one of them is misunderstanding me."
"Would I have then also misinterpreted your warm welcome for a threat?" Harry cynically quipped.
The bell rang to mark the end of class.
Tom was the first to stand, but as he stood he masked the fury in his eyes behind his most charmingly psychopathic air.
"Let's see, that was just a statement, and I will wait to see how long you last before you prove me right... you will regret coming here, if only because I ensure that I am never wrong."
He gave Harry one last smile—with corners so sharp they would have been enough to stab him—before blending into the stream of students and leaving the room.
When Harry returned his gaze to his parchment, it was smeared with ink stains that had splattered the few lines he had already written.
He vanished the soiled parchment, then ran a hand through his hair. There were days like this when he wondered why he had gotten involved in this stupid story of hunting horcruxes that came back to haunt him when he had already destroyed them...
The realization hit him with the strength of the Hogwarts Express launched at full speed: how could the horcruxes still exist if he had destroyed them? Or how could he find them in Limbo if Tom wasn't dead yet?
He stared into the void, eyes wide with bewilderment. He hurriedly packed his things into his bag and ran past Merlin and Egon.
They called out to him, "Peverell! Where are you going? Class is over!"
"I know, but I have to see Morcades!"
As he passed, the people in the paintings cursed him for running through the corridors. When he reached the moving stairs, they begged him not to run anymore, or else he would meet the same tragic end of the former DADA teacher. Harry mingled with the stream of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor fourth years who were also heading down to the dungeons—because yes, if Death was going to teach, it was going to be in one of the darkest and most gloomy rooms in the castle.
As he passed through the ground floor, near the Great Hall, during his run, he saw Moody with Euphemia. She was whispering something in his ear. As Harry passed by them, the prefect and the woman who would become his grandmother stopped plotting and gave him a suspicious look.
Passing by them was brief, less than a few seconds, but enough for Harry to perceive the wariness emerging from their magic, it was a lot more dimmed, but identical to what he had sensed from the Slytherins. What the hell was going on here?
Harry didn't notice in his rush that the hallway had become empty of other students.
He didn't suspect either that at the corner of a hallway someone would be waiting for him, wand pointed at his face. "Petrificus Totalus!"
... In fact, the corridors were not totally empty, someone witnessed the assault, as they followed Harry from a distance. They gasped before rushing into the dungeons.