** HO YES! I have done my Art project and now have… another one. Damn. If I get another project this term off ANYONE I shall self-distruct.
I'm getting a DOG! Whoopee!!!!
Anyway. I finally got off my bum and did the next chapter. It's your entire fault if I fail my French departmentals.
For those of you who are mean and want me to get on with my other fics as well,
To Change the Past
Return to Noonvale
And
Alan
All will hopefully be added to during the holidays. At the moment this is all I have time for!
Disclaimer: I am only thirteen, and am not clever enough to own Harry Potter or any other great books like that. I hate disclaimers. They're annoying. **
"Right then, Harry," said Professor Little when they had reached an empty classroom. "Let's get straight to it. What can you do already?"
Harry didn't hesitate. "Grade four curses, stunners and impedimentas."
Wendy smiled at the young man's eagerness to learn new curses. "And defence?"
Harry couldn't say why, but somehow he felt completely at home with this woman. It was as if he had met her somewhere before. "I… I can do a Patronus."
Wendy's eyes lit up. "Can you really?"
"Yes. Professor Lupin taught me in my third year."
Wendy froze at the name. "Lupin? Remus Lupin? "
Harry stared at her. "Yes…"
"But… no one told me he was a Professor!"
"He's not anymore," Harry said gloomily. "He quit at the end of his first year. The school found out about…"
He stopped, wondering how much Professor Little already knew.
"His monthly problem, right?"
Ah. She did know. "Yes."
Professor Little put her palms on the desk behind her and pushed herself up onto it, like a small child. She bit her lip.
"I've been in Poland," she said quietly. "My husband took me there after…your parents… died. My parents were in Africa and my… I didn't really have anything else left in Britain. I haven't seen anyone for fourteen whole years."
Harry stood still, waiting for more, but none came. Professor Little laughed instead.
"Oh well, I guess I'll be seeing some of my old pals soon enough anyway. Snape first, unfortunately. It was a shock meeting him. I hadn't thought it was possibly for him to get any greasier, but I was wrong."
Even Harry laughed at that.
"Right, so Harry. You do know why we're doing this, don't you?"
"In case something happens again like it did last year?"
Wendy winced. Evidently Professor Dumbledore had filled her in on the details.
"Well, yes, mainly that Harry, but there's another reason. Professor Dumbledore wants to find out the extent of your powers. He told me you had gained some from your connection with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
It was a while before Harry realised that it was a question. "Oh, right, yeah. I can speak Parseltongue and the sorting hat nearly put me in Slytherin."
"Exactly. What we want to find out is whether he gave you anything… else."
Harry listened with bated breath. Using Lord Voldemort's power against him… now there was a happy irony.
"Firstly," said Wendy, hopping off the desk. "Have you ever tried spells without your wand? Not just magic – everyone can do that – actual spells."
Harry felt as if Wendy's eyes were seeing right through him. Only the fact that he knew she couldn't be really, kept him from telling her the ultimate truth.
"Isn't that impossible, Professor?"
"Not in the slightest. And call me Wendy. Your father had a particular knack for it, as I recall. Nothing huge, just Accios and wingardiums. He used to give people such frights by summoning and levitating things – usually people – just with his hands."
Harry remained silent. He discovered afterwards that Wendy was not the best storyteller in the world, always cutting off right in the middle, or what seemed like the middle.
Almost absent-mindedly, she stretched out a hand and touched his forehead, a finger either side of his scar. "Have you ever tried?" she asked, almost dreamily.
This is one of the freakiest people I've ever met, thought Harry, but still managed to lie.
"No."
When Professor Little drew back her hand from his face, she was smiling. "You liar," she said, amused.
"What?"
Still grinning broadly, Professor Little raised the same two fingers to her own forehead, in precisely the same position.
"My name is Wendy," she said. Startled, Harry watched as a circular area of skin around those fingers glowed bright green.
"My name is Harry Potter," said Professor Little, and that same area of skin glowed suddenly a dark red.
"Impressive, isn't it?" said Wendy when she took her hand away and saw Harry's stunned expression.
"But… that's unreal! You shouldn't be able to do that, or else everyone would be doing it to everyone else!"
"That's true," said Wendy, thoughtfully. "I'd better not teach it to any of the Professors, or it'll make a couple of dozen students very unhappy…"
She laughed at the look that still lingered on Harry's face. "It's just something I picked up in Poland, Harry. Hardly anyone can do it, so you don't have to worry about anyone touching your head and finding out who you fancy…"
Harry grinned sheepishly. He had been thinking something like that.
"So, when did you use wandless charms then Harry?"
"Over the summer," said Harry, resigned. "I think I did it by accident the first time, and then when I realised no one was going to expel me I kept doing it."
He said it with self-disgust in his voice, which quite alarmed Wendy. "What did you use?"
"A… a concealing charm. On my face."
Harry waited a few seconds, then went on. "It's not fair! I should have been able to fight them off! I'm a wizard, I'm stronger than they are, and they're afraid of me when I've got my wand, but as soon as they take it away…"
He shook his head vigorously. "I'm useless without it. I'm small and weak and useless. Everyone says so…"
"Some day I shall have to meet this man, 'everyone'," said Professor Little. "He has such incredible views on life."
Harry looked away, ashamed of his outburst.
"Harry," said Wendy. "You are not useless. You escaped Voldemort four times."
"That doesn't make me special," said Harry. "I never actually did any work. My mum and Dumbledore saved me the first two times. The third time I would've died if it hadn't been for Fawkes. And the forth…" he shivered. "It was my wand again."
Wendy didn't say anything.
"It's not that I don't like my wand, actually I'm quite attached to it, but if it's not there I'm lost. Out in the open. I'm skinny, and I'm…"
"Is this you or 'Everyone' talking?" asked Professor Little kindly.
Harry didn't want to face her. He wasn't lying. He was hopeless. Now he was even feeling sorry for himself. What about Mr. and Mrs. Diggory? What about the kid and the little baby? Shouldn't he be feeling sorry for them?
"Harry, would you like it if I taught you wandless magic?"
Harry looked up sharply. "You can do that?"
"Well, I don't pretend to be an expert, Harry, but we can have a damned good try, can't we?"
Harry grinned.
"Good. We'll start at the best place – the beginning."
In the space of three hours, Harry was starting to get the hang of simple, wandless charms. He was also rather enjoying himself.
"Harry!"
"Whoops, sorry, Professor." Harry threw her back her hat, which had flown into his hand at a mere wave.
"I think we'd better stop now, Harry. Look at the mess we've made."
Harry turned and looked. They had moved to Professor McGonagall's main classroom, for the increased amount of space and air. It was now completely upside down.
Books littered the floor, as did countless stacks of parchment, quills and old essay papers. A marking scheme for 'Transfig. N.E.W.T' was sitting on top of an old birdcage, which had not been there previously.
A few chairs had also been overturned, and somehow some of the posters were no longer the right way up.
Harry smiled. "Can't we just do a bit more, Pro -…Wendy?"
Wendy looked around at the chaos the two had inflicted. She remembered the teacher's wrath all too well.
"Well, I suppose we could do a bit more… Yes, all right Harry. You're going to use your new powers to tidy up this room."
Harry groaned and turned towards the door. "I've changed my mind, actually. I think I'll just…"
"Oh, no you don't," said Professor Little, grabbing him by the back of his itchy spare robes. "I'm set on the idea now. Thank you so much for bringing it up, Mr. Potter."
With a quick reflection never to trust Wendy Little again, Harry got to work, a huge grin on his face as the marking scheme missed his hand slightly and hit his new teacher in the face.
Harry's things were already in the dormitory when he arrived there half an hour later. Chucking the huge book onto the bed, he opened his trunk to check that everything was there.
He gasped at the sight that met his eyes. Inside were brand new, perfectly sized Muggle clothes, a full new set of books for the year and a bar of Honeydukes' best chocolate.
There was a note on top of all the things. It read,
Dear Harry,
Sirius is in fine spending form. He wanted you to have these. He will repay me when he is freed. He says to count it as your birthday present, and I think there is something else in there that is from Remus as well and will aid you in your studies.
Good luck and Happy Birthday
Professor Dumbledore.
Harry stared at the note. All this was from Sirius? He'd already given Harry the best present he'd ever had, the Firebolt. He couldn't possibly afford this!
Eagerly, despite his worries, Harry knelt down and started going through the things. They were all the best quality clothes he'd ever owned.
Putting them aside extremely carefully, he picked up the books one by one. Most were nothing special. 'The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5', 'Intermediate Transfiguration 2nd Edition' and 'An Index of Famed Witches and Wizards since 1900' were just some of them.
But then Harry noticed a smaller book. A little blue one without a title. Harry opened it and saw on the first page:
THIS BOOK BELONGS TO ____________ (Please Fill In)
And that was it. But just those words made Harry think of something that made him snap the book shut and dive back into his trunk. He pushed his school robes aside as he frantically searched for it.
It wasn't there.
The diary was gone.
It took a few frantic seconds for Harry to realise that no one would actually be able to read the diary.
He took a few deep, calming breaths. Would you rather freeze to death…
There was a knock on the door.
Wondering who possibly could have got into the common room, Harry opened it.
It was Professor Little. She beamed at him. "Got everything you need, Harry?"
"Yes," lied Harry. "Wendy, how did you get in without the password?"
Wendy laughed. "It's not too hard, Harry. They're always pretty much the same. I'm a Gryffindor too, remember?"
Harry hadn't known, but he did remember what Wendy had said about her being best friends with his Mum. He was bursting with questions about her, but he decided to leave it until things had calmed down a little.
He also wasn't sure he believed her story about guessing the password. They were invented so they couldn't be guessed. One of the house-elves had told him the current one was 'Oojimaflip'.
Oh well. He had the whole year. Plenty of time to find out more about Professor Little. She certainly didn't look the werewolf type.
"C'mon then," she said. "Dinner's up."
"What, already?" Harry started to look as wrist, then remembered he no longer had a watch.
"Of course. We were at it for about four hours, you know."
Professor Little and Harry walked all the way down to the Great Hall, excitedly talking about wandless magic.
Despite Wendy's assurances, they were early. Professors Vector and Sinistra were the only ones at the staff table when they arrived.
An extra chair had been added between Professor Little's and Hagrid's for Harry. The only bad thing Harry could see about this was that Professor Snape would only be one chair away.
They sat down, still discussing their lesson, Harry trying not to notice the way the other two witches were avoiding his eyes.
The other teachers came one after the other. When Hagrid rushed in, looking red-faced, he gave Harry a bone-crushing hug and an apology for his previous weepy behaviour.
Embarrassed, Harry managed to get him talking on the subject of what they were going to be learning about this year. The way Hagrid kept sliding off the main topic and elaborating on the smaller ones made Harry feel that he and his classmates were in for another interesting term.
Professor Snape sat down, grudgingly, next to Wendy.
"How're you doing, Severus?" said Wendy cheerfully.
Snape looked up and glared at her, and it was probably good that the food arrived at that point, or he might have said something scathing.
Harry had never seen Snape eat so much. He was almost eating as much as Hagrid, which was saying something. Wendy was also giving the wonderful Hogwarts food her all.
Harry, on the other hand, couldn't eat more than half his steak and a couple of roast potatoes. He fiddled with the carrots for a while, and then ate them slowly, thinking desperately how much he didn't want to throw up at the staff table.
Everyone had noticed, Harry knew, but no one was saying anything as he made his way doggedly across his plate, all eyes occasionally flicking towards him.
In the end, when the first course had nearly been devoured by most of the faculty, Dumbledore spoke up.
"How was your first lesson, Harry?"
Thankfully, Harry pushed his plate away. "It was hard," he admitted. "I got the knack of it in the end though, and Wendy says I have 'Transpersonal stamina'."
"Oh? And what is that, exactly?" asked Dumbledore with a smile.
"Not a clue," said Harry. Everyone (except Snape) laughed.
Wendy blushed a little. She was saved by pudding, which Harry, despite his resolve to eat as much as he could so he would never have to take that disgusting nutrition potion again, could not touch.
Apparently, neither could Snape. He sat looking at the huge spotted dick in front of him with distaste. Puddings obviously weren't his forte at the best of times, let alone now when he'd just devoured half the other food.
As Harry sat looking at him, the only two people who weren't leaving but were too polite to get up while everyone else was, he could've sworn he saw something moving underneath Snape's robes, right in the middle of his right forearm.
Snape hissed slightly as his garment wriggled without him moving.
And something hissed back.
Harry leaned over his plate to get a better look. Something rather long and thin was curling around Snape's arm under his robes.
"Stop moving, you irritating man…""Professor Snape," said Harry slowly. Snape was not the only one to look up in astonishment at being addressed willingly by Harry. Quite a few of the other teachers looked interested.
"Professor, there's a…"
"I KNOW, Potter," Snape hissed through his teeth, as if in pain.
"But it's a…"
"I KNOW! Don't say it…" His voice trailed off as the circling stopped. This seemed to terrify him. Harry had never seen Snape look scared before. He took a mental picture, just in case he ever needed stimulation during this.
"What is it, Severus?" said Dumbledore, curiously, putting down his fork.
Snape didn't answer. He had gone white.
"Harry?"
Harry only looked at Snape. "I could… get rid of it…" he said tentatively.
Snape looked absolutely venomous at the suggestion, but it seemed he had no choice. Slowly and carefully, he stretched out his right hand, past Professor Little, who pushed back her chair, and before Harry.
Harry took his hand. He felt burns and rough skin beneath his fingers. The movement beneath the robes restarted, and Harry took a deep breath.
He couldn't have said afterwards, how he had known what to do. He closed his eyes, and said in a soft, low hiss that everyone present could hear,
"Why are you hiding, brother?"
And the answer came. Harry was only a little surprised. He had never actually heard a Snake's voice before.
"I am awaiting a sign of treachery."
"Treachery to whom?" asked Harry.
Hagrid and all the other teachers, unable to understand, stared in horror and disbelief at Harry and Snape, who had his eyes closed too.
"To my master."
"What will you do when this sign comes?"
"Strike!"
"Why?"
"Because my master asked me to."
"Don't you decide things for yourself?"
"I am not yet old enough."
"Would you like to come to me? I promise I'm not as nasty as Snape."
"You are… asking me?"
"It's your decision. Only aren't you bored, just waiting on his arm?"
"You are kind, but a strange one. Not many can speak our tongue."
"I know."
"Would you really like me to come?"
"Yes, please."
Harry opened his eyes as the Snake emerged from the end of Snape's sleeve and curled up Harry's own forearm, on top of his jumper. He had never seen anything quite like this snake before.
It was long, and very thin, with a triangle shaped head. It was completely back from head to the tip of its tail.
"I hope you don't mind me asking, but what are you exactly?"
"I am a death fang."
"A what? I've never heard the name."
"My master created us. Ages and ages ago. Before his power was lost and he fled our world. We are afraid of him, and of men. We hid. Now he has recalled us, and sent us back into man's world.
My master is not kind, nor well spoken, as you are. Who are you, young one?"
"I am Harry."
"That is a good name. Who are all these other men I sense around me?"
"My teachers."
Reminded of where he was, Harry looked up at everyone else. All of them were sitting well back in their seats, staring, except Snape, who stood up with a sigh of regrettable relief. After a few seconds, he muttered. "Thank you, Potter," and he left.
Harry stared after him, gob smacked, the black snake hissing contentedly on his arm. "Did he just… thank me?" he asked everyone else.
"I think he did," said Professor Dumbledore with a small smile. "New friend, Harry?"
"I hope so," said Harry. "At least it'll be easy by now to recognise all the Death Eaters. Just look for the ones with snakes on their arms."
He stood up. "I'll just… take him upstairs," he said, nervously, edging away from the table, trying to avoid Hagrid's eyes. "We'll talk there."
And he ran out of the Great Hall. When he had gone, Professor McGonagall whispered, "how did he know about Severus' charade of a Death Eater?"
No one answered.
"This is your home?" asked the Snake when they reached the common room.
"As much as it'll ever be," replied Harry happily. He settled on a big armchair by the fire.
"Ahhh," said the snake, sliding off his lap and stretching out on the rug. He covered about a metre of it. "Nagini is always by the fire. Now I have a space by this fire, with my own master!"
Harry didn't even try to put the Snake right.
"So… do you have a name?"
"Of course."
"Well, what is it?"
"It is Toxica Caninus."
"Poison Fang? Isn't that a bit of a …girl's name?"
"Do you mean… female?"
"Well, yes."
"It is, isn't it? My old master tends to slide towards the more feminine titles. Do you have a better idea?"
"Well, you ought to have a simple name. How 'bout just… Sleeve?"
"Hmmm. Sleeeeve," said the snake, trying it out. "I rather like it. Any particular reason…?"
Harry decided he was going to keep that to himself. "No, not really."
Professor Dumbledore sat in his old chair behind his desk, and opened the diary for the hundredth time, but with a new insight. The happenings at dinner had opened his mind to a new, impossible, idea.
The weird, italic letters curled around each other, not in straight lines but round and about the page. Yet it looked neat. One of the pages, near the end, was splattered in blood.
After a moments thought, Dumbledore stood up and made his way over to the bookcase. He took out a thick, old volume that could have been there since it was written about a thousand years ago.
He sat down again, ran a finger down the index, turned a couple of hundred pages, and began to read.
A small, balding man with a hand by his side made of silver, made his way down a dark passageway. His eyes darted left and right as he moved, ever onwards into the dark.
He reached a door eventually. He knocked, ever so gently, as if hoping the man inside would not hear.
He failed however. "Come," said a voice from within, a cold, merciless voice.
Peter Pettigrew entered the room. Harry followed him in, knowing oh too well what was about to happen.
"M…my Lord…"
"You have good news, I hope?"
"Yes, m…my Lord. All the death fangs have been distributed. An act of disobedience towards you will be punished immediately by death."
"I KNOW THAT, Wormtail! Tell me something I do not know! Give me news, something I can be happy about, and make it quick."
Pettigrew just stood there, staring at the raised chair before him, not daring to lift his head and meet his master's eyes.
Harry, on the other hand, stared unblinkingly into that hated face, the face he had destroyed and then brought back to life. The face of the man who had killed his parents, Cedric, that tiny baby and its brother…
"Er… er… I cannot, I cannot think of anything, Master…"
"Crucio."
Harry swore out loud as his scar exploded. His legs buckled slightly.
"I am not pleased. Not pleased at all, rat."
Mist started to cloud Harry's vision. Both hands clutched tightly over his scar, he stood still, waiting for it to push him back to bed.
And so it was that at six o'clock the next morning, Harry was sitting up in bed, reading one of his new books, 'The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5'.
Sleeve was sleeping on Harry's trunk, after having moved there from the end of his bed when he started to toss and turn in the night.
His brow creasing in a look of concentration, Harry flicked his wand at the jug on the windowsill. "Rotatis". It began to spin, slowly. It sped up gradually until the water inside was a mini whirlpool, which rose slowly out of the jug and then…
Flopped back down into it.
Harry frowned. Almost unconsciously he placed his wand on the duvet beside him. This time, he only waved his hand.
"Rotatis."
It worked. Instantly the jug spun around, and the whirlpool lifted out of the water. A stray piece of parchment began to fly towards it.
"Finite incantatem!" The parchment and whirlpool both dropped. Pleased with himself, Harry put down his book.
Turning over on his side, he saw the little blue book he had left discarded the night before. He beckoned to it, and it came into his hand.
He flicked through the pages, but they were all blank, apart from the first one, which still read…
THIS BOOK BELONGS TO ____________ (Please Fill In)
Harry shrugged and motioned to a quill, which speeded into his hand. He couldn't help grinning when he imagined Ron's face when he saw Harry doing this all the time.
He dipped the quill in ink, and wrote his name in the blank space.
With horror, he watched as the ink faded into the page, as did the printed writing.
Oh no.
Not again.
He wanted to close the book, but he couldn't, not while he so wanted to see the return message.
And it came.
'Hey, Harry! You took your sweet time in writing!'
The words faded away. Harry stared for a second, then, ignoring his conscience, wrote,
'Who are you?'
The writing as it returned was neat and perfectly aligned, not a hand that Harry could ever remember reading before.
'Only a certain godfather who happens to be extremely worried about you!'
Oh dear.
'Sirius?'
'That's right! Gees, you're slow.'
'But, you're still alive!' Harry wrote frantically,
'How can you be writing to me?'
'Ah. Well, that might take some explaining…'
The words faded to nothing but a blank page, and Harry waited with baited breath for more.
**Oh, what a terrific place to end the chapter. I suppose I'm gonna be on quite a few blacklists after this…
Here be thanks
Skahducky, hyperwriter, fizzysoda, callas-and-ivy, Pathetic Invader, velondra539, rowan.
Hpfan: thanks loads for your ongoing enthusiasm. Man, do I love big words. Anyway, don't you love it when that happens? Seeing someone updated? Hope you liked this chapter and have no more quiries on the states of affairs in Britain. At the moment news is all and only about firemen. No child abuse cases at all, luckily.
Evil Snapple Pie: need I say more? Your story was brill! Sorry I haven't had time to write recently, I've been doing this! Er… yeah. About the diary. You weren't actually meant to be able to understand the words. I did that by accident. I hope I remember to repost the chapter. Shh!
Shichan Goddess: **holds up hands at wave of too many words** Ok, ok! You liked it! Nearly crying, eh… only nearly? Maybe later I will write a chapter that will really make you cry…
Lil lupin: You're not the only one who got confused at the end… True what you said about Remus. Now, how can I bring him in…?
Rebekah: Thanks for reminding me! Must clear that particular mystery up at one point.. Yeah, I wasn't so sure about the whole Hermione helpless thing either but I kind of liked the idea. Thank you!
Lady Foxfire: Damn! The Dursleys! Better write that one down as well… please update a broken child please please please please please!!!!
Xia Sarrasri: Hello!!! Glad to find you sympathetic. Thanks for reading P+A. I wrote it for English. Thought maybe someone else should get to read it. Read again!
Bumblebee Bucy: President who? Ah, well, never mind. Thanks for your compliments (again) and thank you for reviewing P+A (twice!)
Ashes: Yowch! 5 on a Friday. How harsh.
Funny, I thought it was gonna take longer than that. Sorry if I missed you out.
Thanks also to anyone who read Phillippe and Araya, my little English Story. The teacher wrote that it was 'gothic melodrama' and that I should be reading more classical books like Wuthering Heights. And I was like… hmm.. there's a thought… nah!
Next chapter may take a while, may not. Depends how nice they are to third years at our school near the Christmas holidays. But as soon as they come, prepare for mega updates!!!
~*~*~*~*Laterose*~*~*~*~