Chapter 6: The Seventh Son

"Snape for four hours?" Ron exclaimed as he looked at Hermione's timetable over her shoulder the next morning at breakfast.

Harry took a quick glance at his own timetable. They had only two lessons a day now with a lunch break in between. Compared to Hermione's, his and Ron's were rather empty. Then something caught his eye.

They would be starting on their special project on Wednesday.

He didn't really know what he felt about spending the whole afternoon with somebody who looked like his deceased babysitter, and not for the first time, he was glad that Ron would be with him.

How baby-ish, a voice in his head taunted, sounding annoyingly like Malfoy. Famous Harry Potter can't go to classes by himself?

"Look at this," Hermione said, passing the Daily Prophet to them and shutting that mocking voice out…for a while.

"What, more Rita Skeeter?" Ron asked disinterestedly while he heaped sausages on his plate. Ever since Hermione had let her go, the reporter's articles had become so boring that they were rather unreadable, something Hermione seemed to see as a personal achievement.

"No, it's about—"

"The Chalice." Harry said, seeing the familiar shape on the paper.

Magical Artefact Recovered

The Magical Artefacts Office has confirmed reports that the Chalice of Morgan le Fay has been recovered from the muggle British Museum. Found last year during a dig organised by the French Gringotts Branch, it was mysteriously stolen under the noses of many trained wizards just hours after the discovery was related to the Ministry of Magic. Muggle archaeologists were said to have found the relic in an old burial ground just weeks before and a source has confirmed that it was the same one found missing.

The Chalices were handmade by one of the greatest dark sorceresses of all time, made of pure gold and also priceless in terms of magical and historical value. Initially, Morgan le Fay (or Morgana) was said to have made only one, for Dark purposes, but before her death had a change of heart and made another one. Although both are said to be neutral objects, able to be harnessed for the intentions anybody who holds the enigmatic "keys", it is also commonly believed that the second Chalice was made to fight Dark magicks. Legend claims that each of the chalices contain a prophecy, but the method of extracting the secrets the chalices hold have since been lost to the magical world.

The Chalice has been examined for signs of tampering and was declared undamaged by the Ministry, but with the supposed rise of You-Know-Who, could it be that some of his followers have tried to use the Chalice and failed? The recovered relic has been moved to heavily-guarded Ministry stores, while its sister Chalice remains to be discovered.

"Supposed rise of Vol-voldemort indeed." Ron said with difficulty, his face paling a little just from the effort of saying the name. "Do you think they could be right? About why it went missing."

"Wouldn't put it past them."

"Or maybe they got the wrong one." Hermione suggested. "Maybe they got the one that wasn't Dark."

"Well even if they do get the right one, what are the chances of them finding out how to use it, right?" Ron said as he nervously stirred his porridge.

Probably nearer than we think, Harry thought darkly.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, then shut it abruptly when Kera sat down beside Harry at the table. There was an awkward pause in the conversation which she didn't seem to notice, or more likely, she didn't care.

"I suppose you'll be going for that Defence Against the Dark Arts supplementary class?" Harry asked her. It had been set up for those who had decided to stop taking Defence Against the Dark Arts as a core subject or thought they wanted extra lessons in the topic, in view of the rise of Voldemort. Almost all the sixth- and seventh-years were in it, with exception of the Slytherins.

"No."

"You're not going?" Hermione asked, too surprised to keep silent.

"It's a waste of time." Kera replied, sounding too much like Snape on a bad day to encourage further questioning.

Having nothing to say to that and too much that couldn't be said in the presence of Kera, the rest of the meal passed in silence.

The first lesson of the day was Care of Magical Creatures, so the four Gryffindors made their way down to Hagrid's hut after breakfast. Nobody else was there yet except the half-giant, who greeted them enthusiastically while they fought off an eager Fang, who slobbered all over Ron's robes.

"An' who's this?" Hagrid asked amiably, noticing Kera making her way to her usual seat.

Luckily for Kera, Hagrid, like the rest of the school, hadn't made the connection between the small girl standing in front of him and the dragon he'd seen barely four months ago.

"She's the—" Ron began helpfully.

Harry nudged Ron in the ribs hurriedly and tried to change the subject.

"Where did you get that thing, Hagrid?" Harry asked pointing at the large blade hung on the wall that Hagrid had used last year during the battle.

"My Mom's dagger," Hagrid beamed.

"How is she?" Kera asked suddenly.

"Doin' well." Hagrid replied, smiling. "I go over ter her place when I can."

The giants had declined Dumbledore's offer to build living quarters for them just on the edge of the grounds, preferring to retreat into the highlands looking over Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest for fear of frightening the students.

"Yer lot should come over with me for tea sometime. I told her all 'bout yer."

"Sure." Harry said, trying not to look uneasy. Ron looked like he'd much rather visit Aragog again than go up a mountain to have tea with a tribe of giants.

They were interrupted by a stomping sound from behind the hut not unlike a rampaging hippogriff, and then the loud and final squawk of an unfortunate fowl.

"Um…Hagrid." Hermione said, worriedly. "What's that?"

"Oh, right! Come see what I've got!" Hagrid said enthusiastically, totally missing the looks of apprehension that Harry, Ron and Hermione had on their faces. Kera looked at them, amused.

"You sound like he just told you he's got that manticore in his backyard."

"Maybe he has." Harry said faintly.

They approached the pen in Hagrid's backyard warily.

"This is Vern." Hagrid said, stepping aside.

Vern turned about to a dragon-like creature but with only two legs instead of the usual four, about the size of a small van. Reptilian and intelligent eyes scanned the faces of the children curiously as it flapped its leathery wings at the Gryffindors, seeming to enjoy the attention.

"It's a wyvern." Kera said with distaste.

"That's right." Hagrid said happily. "Closest thing ter a dragon Professor Dumbledore would let me have."

"That thing is nowhere near a dragon." Kera said disdainfully. She cast one last contemptuous look at the creature towering over her and went back to her seat.

"She's right, though." Hagrid said with a bit of a sigh as he stroked the neck of the wyvern. "This fella is mixed blood."

"Another pure-blood supremacist." Hermione muttered, frowning.

*~*~~*~**~*~*~~*

The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was just as Harry remembered it—musty and with the shelves filled with some strange specimens and curious books, and a few mirrors from Lockhart's days still hanging, but now partially covered. But sitting here with only Ron with him, the room seemed darker somehow, creepier even as the afternoon sun shone in thin streaks through the high windows casting the shadows into deeper contrast.

The Gryffindor second-years had had their Defence class yesterday and while none of them had been overly enthusiastic about her, the new professor didn't seem to be a host for a disembodied Voldemort, a narcissistic conman, a Death Eater in disguise or something from another species. Yet.

"Are we in the right place?" Ron whispered nervously.

"I think so." It seemed silly to whisper when there was nobody else in the room, but it felt right, somehow.

"Think they all came early and got their brains eaten?" Ron asked jokingly.

She could have been a zombie or a hag for all he cared, but what troubled Harry a little was the fact that the Professor's large black dog which they had all assumed to be Sirius hadn't tried to contact Harry at all. Could it be that they had mistaken an ordinary mutt for his godfather after all?

The backdoor to the teacher's office creaked open and in walked the familiar silver haired figure. Her usually slightly hunched form was now held straight and she walked like a twenty-year-old although from her shock of white hair she would most probably have been in her late seventies.

"Good morning Professor Figg." Harry mumbled.

"Look at me when you speak to me, young man." Professor Figg said, her expression serious but her eyes twinkling. Harry's head snapped up in surprise. "Wasn't that the first thing Arabella taught you?"

"How…?"

Someone else emerged from the office, followed by a big black dog, which gleefully pounced on Harry and slobbered all over him.

"Yuck!" Harry laughed, pushing the heavy canine off him.

With a soft pop, his godfather was standing in front of him with a wide grin on his face. Ron glanced at Professor Figg and the stranger with her, but neither seemed particularly surprised by the animagus's identity as he gave Harry a bone-crushing hug.

"Where's Moony?" asked Harry after he had untangled himself from his godfather.

"He's hanging out with a pack of werewolves in the Forbidden Forest." Sirius replied, grinning impishly. "Seems like the daughter of the leader of the pack fancies him quite a bit."

"He's living with them? But they're supposed to be dangerous!" Ron blurted out unthinkingly.

"They're pretty nice actually." Sirius said.

"Still human for the other days of the month." The stranger agreed.

At the sound of her voice, Harry was suddenly reminded of the presence of the other people in the room. The strange woman was younger than Professor Figg, perhaps in her late thirties. She bore a striking resemblance to the older woman, her eyes the same pale cornflower blue, but her hair was a deep honey-blond.

"This is my daughter." Professor Figg said. "She will be assisting me to supervise your project."

"Just call me Arabella." The younger woman said cheerily. "It gets so confusing if you call both of us 'Professor Figg'. Besides, I'm not really your professor, and it makes me sound so old."

"Is it just…us?" Ron asked in surprise as he gestured at the otherwise empty classroom.

"Only you and Mr. Potter are in this project." Professor Figg nodded.

"It's nice to meet you again, Harry Potter." Arabella said smiling. "I hope those horrible relatives of yours weren't too nasty to you this summer when I wasn't there to look out for you."

"You…you're Harry's babysitter?" Ron asked in confusion, looking from mother to daughter.

"Polyjuice." Harry realised, remembering the way her house had always smelt of cabbage. She nodded, grimacing.

"I hope my "death" didn't give you too much of a shock. I just got so sick of not being able to use magic and having to drink that horrid potion."

"But why…" Why couldn't you have told me earlier?

"I'm really sorry, Harry. I wanted to every time you came over, but the time just wasn't right." She said gently.

Harry nodded, still feeling cheated. All the times he'd dreamed and prayed for someone to rescue him from the Dursleys and someone who could have brought him back into the wizarding world and saved him from all the misery he'd been through had been right next door.

Professor Figg exchanged a look with Arabella and sighed.

"Could you please deliver this note to Dumbledore?" she asked Sirius.

Sirius frowned, obviously unwilling to leave Harry after their brief reunion and with Harry looking so downcast.

"Go on." Arabella said, holding out the envelope. "He'll still be here when you get back."

"What do you think I am, a post owl?" Sirius grumbled. He transformed and bounded away with the note in his mouth.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter… besides your prophetic dreams and visions about Voldemort's activities, have you heard or felt anything unusual lately?" Professor Figg said in a no-nonsense tone.

Harry swallowed, forcing himself to stop brooding.

"Uh…well, I heard my cousin say something strange. Or I thought I did."

"Yes, you would usually find it easier to hear those related to you by blood, perhaps especially if they are muggles."

"Especially if they're muggles?" Ron asked.

"Muggles usually aren't aware enough to build up their shields against magic." Professor Figg explained. "It's usually easier to read the minds of muggles and squibs than wizards."

"I'm telepathic?" Harry asked in astonishment.

"It would appear that you have some potential to be a Seer." Professor Figg agreed.

"This isn't really a Defence Against the Dark Arts project, is it?"

"Well... In a way it is." Arabella said cryptically. "Though I would advise both of you to keep this a secret."

"Oh," Ron said in what Harry recognised was Ron's 'it's about Harry Potter again' tone. "So I'm just here to make it look right."

"I beg to differ, Mr. Weasley," Professor Figg. "You are after all the seventh son of a seventh son."

"I'm a what?" Ron asked in surprise. "Well, Dad is a seventh son, but I…" At this, the expression of both mother and daughter grew serious.

"You've probably never heard of it. Your mother had another son between Charlie and Percy…there was something wrong with him that nothing could cure, bless his poor little soul." Professor Figg told him. "He died when he was barely a month old."

"So I…but…" Ron stammered.

"Few Seers really achieve much before their twentieth birthday without proper training." Arabella explained. "Harry has had some external help."

"Voldemort." Harry said softly, frowning.

"Not just Voldemort." Professor Figg corrected. "I believe by Miss Ladon transferred some of her blood to you last year?"

Harry nodded.

"The main problem those of the Wild Magic face is lack of focus. Power is nothing without control." Professor Figg told them. "You may have found that she has some problems with wandwork."

Harry nodded, remembering the time she'd accidentally turned Neville invisible with a simple glamourie spell during Charms.

"So that's what she was saying about Defence Against the Dark Arts being a waste of time for her." Ron realised with a start. "She needs a wand for that," sounding so much like Hermione that Harry couldn't help smiling a little.

"But from what Albus has told me, one of your strong points is focus." Professor Figg said.

"We're here to teach you how to tap into that power." Arabella said.

"And with proper training Mr. Weasley should be able to catch up in no time." Professor Figg said.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks.

"So both of you are Seers?" Ron asked. They nodded. "Like Trelawney?"

"Not really." Arabella grinned.

"So what can you do?"

"Actually, we're more interested in what the both of you can do." She answered. "What do you say we start with your training?"

[A/N: *apologies profusely* I was trying to write other stuff for OoTP competitions, so I took a long time to write this. And I'll be starting my University term soon, so I'm afraid it's going to take even longer for me to post new chapters…but post I will, don't worry. =) Never give up, never surrender! Oh wait…wrong show.

For those of you not familiar with the superstition, the seventh son of a seventh son is thought to be blessed with second sight or an ability to foretell the future.]