Little seed of evil



Disclaimers: Harry James Potter and all other characters from that same universe belong to JK Rowling. However, the plot is mine.

Rating: R may change in the future. Even I don't know where this story is going. It may turn to Slash, may turn to abuse … I don't know…

Summary: An adult, tired Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position after facing a lot of emotional dilemmas.

 I have a new Harry Potter story out, for those who were not yet aware of it: "When Armageddon ends". Please go and read it if you liked this story. 

I also have a livejournal. I will use this for mindless rambling, book reviews and one off fics I might never post on ffnet, just because they're too strange. No new stories up now, but there will be in the future.



I have promised myself a nifty little PVC top ( yeah, I'm kinky, so what ) if I get over 70 reviews. So ...

Dedicated to serenitas, the angelic vampire and charming death , three of the coolest people around.  Like ever.

And oh, just one tiny, little fact : I write based on reviews. If I only get one miserable review per chapter, I won't be easily tempted to write the next chapter. That's why this chapter took me so long.

And this chapter was co-written/co-plotted with the angelic vampire , a writer here on Ffnet. Check out her work, she's great!


Little seed of evil – Chapter eleven – Wanted dead or alive

He felt like a youngster again, his self confidence strong, feeling powerful and reckless. The famous Harry Potter, never quite understanding  why he was so special, not quite understanding his part in this war between wizards.

Never knowing why he was alive. Had he only been born for this? To stop the war between wizards?

It was bringing back bad memories of how he used to be, being the teacher in a class he didn't want to be in, surrounded by the house he liked the least ; Slytherins.

The third year Slytherins had been silent when he had entered the classroom, but when he had just sat down in his chair, the class had quickly turned the way Slytherins always are: arrogant.  Just plainly arrogant.

Slytherins never change, he guessed.

But this class would soon be silent, he promised himself.

He looked at the silent room in front of him.

Could they have saddled him with a class worse than this one?

He didn't think so. 3rd year Slytherins, only third year Slytherins, doing what they did best. Watching him, observing him, judging him. Harry's eyes narrowed, knowing they would have noticed. He'd give them something to judge him by.

He didn't know whom they were expecting. He didn't know if they thought they were going to be fazced with A golden boy turned man, or a bitter reclusive bastard.

Frankly, he didn't care. He would show them what he was, by showing them nothing at all. He would teach them, only to see them pull back from his teachings, he would do what he did best. Drive people away.

Harry looked at the alphabatised name list, lying on his desk. His eyes flicked over the names, until they halted at one.  He looked up and scanned the room. As he laid eyes on the one, whose name he just read, a small smirk flitted across his features.

He looked back up at the first name. "Cornwell"


"Present" , a darkhaired girl replied.

He looked at the girl, who was avidly watching every move he  made. Harry smiled. They were all watching every move he made.

In a series of movements that ressembled a blur, he trained his wand on the girl and stupified her. He looked at the slightly shellshocked class in front of him, as they watched their year mate go rigid and fall to the ground. As one they looked at him.
 

"Rule number one: Constant Vigilance, Number two: never, ever give away your position. Questions, ? Comments? "

Harry looked around at the silent class. "Let's proceed shall we? Crychek."

No one answered.

Poppy glared as another 3rd year Slytherin came in, sporting bruises. She pointed at an open bed, and watched as the boy dragged himself into it. She frowned, then looked back at the girl she was bandaging.

"DADA you say?"

The girl looked at her, eyes wide open. An expression she'd nearly never seen on a Slytherin. It made something throb inside her heart, made something burn, made herself feel choked. Oddly, unable to speak. She who had been faced with dsome of the more vile war wounds, felt undone by a Slytheirn's expression.

The girl nodded.

"Alright then" She spoke. "Alright then". But it wasn't, and neither were fooled. Not the patient, nor the matron herself. Nothing was alright, and as the next 3rd year Slytherin walked in with that same wide-eyed, lost expression, she steeled her resolve .

Poppy looked at the stubborn woman in front of her.

"Minerva, please. You should have seen him teaching, he resembled a madman possessed." , she spoke. Minerva turned to look at her, with those haunted eyes. Eyes that had seen to much. Eyes that had seen things no one ever should have witnessed. Not a child, not an adult, not an aged wizard or witch. No one.

But they all had, hadn't they? They's all seen things no one should. That was why she was doing this. The war had changed them, all of them, if only they had a role model to lift their spirits. Someone they could look up to, somone that could ensnare nations. Someone mythical, someone like the-boy-who-lived.

If she could bring Harry back to where he belonged. To them. If she could make him act the way they expected him to, then everything would be fine. Just fine. Why couldn't Minerva see that? She had to see that.

"Minerva-"

"No, Poppy, I don't believe his behaviour merits this kind of action. I just don't."

Poppy's eyes narrowed. She knew what would make Minerva revise that opnion, and though she had promised Albus to keep quiet... She knew this was what was necessary.

"He's Marked."

Minerva whirled around, looking at her, eyes shocked. Horrified.

"You Lie!"

Poppy just looked at her, unmoving. She watched as Minerva crumbled before her. Eyes, more dead than they had been before her anouncement, locked with hers.


And that way, the intervention was put up. An intervention consisting of the heads of the four houses of Hogwarts, Madama Mcgonogall for Gryffindor, Madama Sprout for Hufflepuf, Sir Flitwick for Ravenclaw, Poppy Pomfrey, who started this convention, and me of course , Severus Snape for Slytherin.

I think I should have felt repelled in one way or another. After all, it was the students of my house that Potter attacked without mercy. But then on the other hand, I haven't been known as a merciful person for other houses either.
Poppy Pomfrey was frantic, angry, guesturing wildly as she described what she had seen when peering through the keyhole of Potter's classroom, and honestly said, I couldn't have teached a bunch of Gryffindors that way better myself. From what I could believe from Poppy's testimony, of course.

I feel oddly amused at this mockery of a trial they're setting up for Potter. Amused because, yes it had been my SLytherins he attacked, but then again, I've never been one for the cuddle and protect approach. I can't treat my Slytherins the way I should, they way they need.

They should receive this kind of behavior, because from the looks of it, another Dark Lord is recruiting once more, and if he is anything like my master had been.

These children, those that are to be marked, as their parents are, they have a painfilled life in front of them. Better to learn now, and know what kind of world lays hidden from plain view than to find it out in  a much harsher way. The way of the ignorant. I'm also amused because I believe, they're convinced that Potter wants to be redeemed.

I don't know what drove Potter to taking the mark, but there lies more there than merely Fudge asking the boy - man - to. Potter never had any love lost for the fool, never.


And then comes the feeling of being slighted. Why are they doing fot Potter what they had never done for me. I know it is petty, but I can't help it.

They are willing to bend over backwards for the brat-who-lived, while I'm sure they wouldn't even blink twice when faced with the demise of a Slytherin, with the damnation of one, when they were faced with me.

Oh, yes. Potter is King.

Now Minerva leaves the trial, only to return with Harry Potter. There's an amused look in his eyes you cannot deny. He taunts us, to see how for he can get without going over any invisible borders.

There's a small smirk playing around his lips. But yet there's seriousness that I can't place. He knows that this trial is serious. But he won't fight. He will explain, lay down his cards on the table if he has to, but nothing more.

Minerva glances once towards Pomfrey, to tell her she must remain calm. Anger doesn't solve anything.

"Mr. Potter, we have set up this triad to question the way you seem to treat the 3rd year Slytherin students."

The smirk doesn't fall away, but the look in his eyes becomes something else, something much more dark. What is there behind those secretive eyes? How I would love to find out.

"And what is there wrong with my teaching methods?", he replies calmly, his eyes pits of darkness, imprisoning something we are not to know. The way he says this, is almost offhand like, like he doesn't care for it very much.

"You seem to injure the students, Mr. Potter. Harm them. Mostly the Slytherins. ", Minerva replies calmly, her eyes cool as ice. He does not impress her with his behaviour. Well, nobody is impressed. Except for me.

But The not so golden boy plays it smoothly. He doesn't reply, but his smirk grows even wider.

"Why are you doing this, Harry?", Sprout asks quietly, as if afraid to add something to the so far fruitless conversation. "Haven't we always been good to you, Harry?"

Ah! This took him by surprise. He looks up, wondering, almost afraid.

"Yes, you all have been good to me." , he starts.

Ah, was that sarcasm? Doesn't need thinking to figure out who that might be.

"Let's just say, that before Hogwarts, the teachers I had, were the kind I needed most; strict, demanding and never content."

"They were rather harsh on me, pounding their knowledge in my brains just as quickly as they could, in more ways than one. After all, I was just Harry Potter, orphan, living with Dudley Dursley. I had no rights. Teachers and students loathed me and used me. It doesn't mean that I have had a wonderful education here at Hogwarts that I should copy your ways of teaching. I believe in my own ways. "


Harry watched amused as the elderly women looked at him shocked. Disbelievingly. and yet, they accepted his words as truth. Such contrary creatures they were, not that he had any right to comment on that, after all, he was the king of contradictions. He'd meant so much with so few words, revealed so many secrets he no longer wished to keep. And they were appalled.
He could see it in the way they were suddenly eyeing him. For they had not missed most of what he had implied. He could care less. Did they really think, he would throw himself at their feet, and asked to be forgiven?

They didn't know what forgiveness entailed for theyweren't acquainted with damnation. The only one who could possibly understand, was the one whose's eyes he had been avoiding up until now. And as he locked eyes with that obsidian gaze. He felt more alive than he had been in the past few years.

 AUTHORS COMMENTS (Heretic angel) :

Writing the next chapter after having waited so long seems to become a severe problem.I started writing it, starting of with Harry awakening, and going through the routines of the day. The next chapters would then have been dedicated to Severus and Dumbledore, but it just didn't seem right.

I also somehow lost my drafts for those chapters, so I decided to stop altogether with those plans.Not without any grief in the heart of course, because some of the drafts I wrote were pretty much complete.

So I have decided to carry on with plan B; facing Harry with the decision Dumbledore faced him with, and the more detailed reactions from Potter, Snape and Dumbledore.

I also have decided to make Harry prone to self-mutilation, which would also explain some of the many scars I gave him. Surely Harry, as an auror , would not have received that many incurable wounds in combat! That would have him more scarred of combat then Mad eye moody.


Liked it? loved it? let me know please.