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Not Myself by Saerry Snape

Chapter 159 – Darcorn's and Sob Stories

"Good morning, class. I am Professor Etienne Daladier and I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year."

Harry propped his chin on one fist and narrowed his eyes at the new professor as the man began to call the roll. He tried to see similarities between this blonde man who reminded him of the Malfoy's and his father besides their equally dark eyes.

They were both tall, although his father was the taller of the pair by three inches. Both almost painfully slender although his father had a wiry thinness to him and Etienne was thin as a broomstick. And they both had that damned hawkish nose.

"Mister Potter?"

And that damned hiss when they said his name.

"Here," replied Harry lazily.

Professor Daladier frowned at him then continued calling the roll. When he was finished, he dropped the book he'd been reading from onto the desk with a loud thump.

"Now that we've got that out of the way we can get down to business. This year we shall begin by studying major Dark creatures. Beginning with the Darcorn."

Harry's back stiffened and Mika cast him a warning glower. Niamh looked up from her seat directly in front of the two of them and silently said, Please don't do anything stupid, Harry.

Stupid? Repeated Harry incredulously.

With the Darcorn, you're always doing something stupid.

"She has a point," hissed Mika in his ear.

"Shut up," growled Harry, waving the werewolf away.

"Mister Potter?"

"Sir?"

Professor Daladier smiled grimly (a smile that Harry noted was nearly the same as his father's) and said, "Would you like to tell the class a little about the Darcorn?"

Harry cackled mentally and saw Niamh roll her eyes.

"Certainly, professor. Darcorn's are essentially Dark unicorns – or so they say. They actually got that name because of their black coloring and their twisted horns, which gives an aura of evil."

"Very good, Mister Potter," said Professor Daladier. "Five points to Slytherin. And please refrain from talking without permission in my class from now on."

"Yes, sir."

Daladier nodded then turned towards the class, leaning back against his desk, hands resting on either side of him.

"Mister Potter is quite correct – the Darcorn is essentially not a Dark creature. You may all be asking yourselves why then we would study it in this class. The answer is because it is noted as a Dark creature in the Ministry registry and therefore is one in their eyes. Any questions?"

No hands raised up and Daladier's dark eyes glittered.

"Very good!" he said cheerily. "Now does anyone else know something about Darcorn's?"

On the other side of the room, Draco raised his hand tentatively. Harry frowned at him then remembered in their third year that his boggart had turned into a Darcorn. He should ask why that was if he could remember.

"Mister Malfoy?"

"Aren't they supposedly connected to the High Elves?"

Harry's back stiffened again and beside him Mika shifted in his chair as though he was going to throw himself across the room at the blonde.

"So legends say, Mister Malfoy," replied Daladier with a smile. "There are many who say that the High Elves themselves never existed and were simply made up. But as I heard of the events that happened here last year to two of the students in the very classroom, I suppose that the High Elves did exist."

Daladier turned and fixed Niamh with his dark gaze.

"Is it not true that you were possessed by the Gauntlet of Aerilsed, Miss O'Feir?"

Niamh looked up in shock then slowly nodded.

"Yes, sir," she said slowly, her eyes halfway closing as the phantom-feeling of the Gauntlet drawing life from her body went slithering through her. She rubbed her right arm and felt a pang of mixed sorrow and regret come from Harry.

Daladier nodded, seemingly unknowing of Niamh's discomfort, and looked at Harry.

"And you wore the Gauntlet as well, correct, Mister Potter?"

"Yes," replied Harry shortly. He now wore its Dark runes openly on his right arm because of it.

"I see. Some of you are probably wondering what the Gauntlet worn by Mister Potter and Miss O'Feir has to do with the High Elves. The answer is it has everything to do with them. They created it but Dark Magick was used in its creation and therefore made it evil. It is said that it took the lives of many Elves before they finally managed to contain it and safely lock it away."

Amanda raised her hand slowly and Daladier nodded at her.

"Yes?"

"But, sir," said Amanda slowly, "how does this Gauntlet prove the existence of the High Elves?"

"Because no wizard, Dark or Light, would have created such an object. Nor have the power to," replied Daladier.

The bell then rang and he called after the class as they left, "Find all information you can for me on Darcorn's for our next class and be prepared for a discussion!"

"Niamh, are you okay?" asked Mika as he trotted to catch up with the dark-haired girl, who had been the first one out of the classroom.

Niamh just looked up at him with pained eyes and started to say something but was interrupted.

"Ni?"

Mika turned to glare at Harry as Niamh stiffened then slowly turned to stare at him. Tears pooled in her eyes and she rushed across the space between them, throwing herself into his arms.

"Harry…Harry…" she gasped, clutching at his shirt.

"Shh," whispered Harry, hugging her. "He didn't know, Ni."

"No one should have told him! No one!"

"I know, I know…"

"Mister Potter?"

Harry turned and saw Daladier standing in the classroom doorway looking at them. His dark eyes were focused on Niamh as he asked, "Is Miss O'Feir alright?"

"She's fine," growled Harry, narrowing his eyes at the man. He wanted to know who had told the new professor about the Gauntlet. Whoever it was should have known that Niamh wouldn't have a good reaction to being reminded of it!

"Are you certain?"

"Yes."

Daladier frowned at him then nodded and disappeared back into the classroom. Harry continued to glare after him, his arms tightening protectively about the still sobbing Niamh.

A hand touched his shoulder lightly and he turned his head to see Draco standing there.

"Is she okay?" asked the blonde.

Harry frowned and looked down at the dark-haired girl for a long moment. He then looked back at his friend and replied, "I don't know."

"Here."

Niamh blinked and looked up through reddened eyes to see Harry standing over her, a steaming mug held out towards her. She smiled slightly and gratefully took the mug, cupping it in her hands and blowing gently on the hot chocolate inside, shifting her position so her legs were tucked underneath her.

Harry sank down onto the couch beside her, his thigh touching her knee. Niamh was suddenly hyperaware of him and by the way he quickly moved his leg, the same was with him. She glanced out of the corner of her eyes at him and saw that his lean face was strained.

He still cares, she thought to herself, feeling joy swell up from inside her.

Harry coughed softly and mumbled, "You okay?"

Niamh sipped her hot chocolate then slowly let the mug fall to rest in her lap.

"No," she replied softly. She then looked up at him and asked, "Who could have told him?"

"I don't know," said Harry. A look of anger flashed in his eyes and his jaw visibly tightened as he growled, "But I intend to find out."

He's still protecting me.

Niamh smiled and moved her right leg, gently prodding his jean-clad hip with her toe. He turned to look curiously at her, green eyes wide.

"Thank you."

Light pink traced the tops of his angular cheeks and he ducked his head, his long hair – now freed of its braid – falling over his face.

"I'd do anything for you, Ni," he mumbled. "You know that."

"Except love me," said Niamh, bitterness and hurt in her voice. She winced, not meaning to let her feeling out like that. It had sounded like she was accusing him.

Harry looked up at her and Niamh saw pain in his eyes.

"But I do love you," he whispered.

"Then why…?"

"I don't want you hurt again because of me."

Niamh frowned and whispered, "Harry…stop protecting me."

"I can't," he said. "Its what I do."

"Your not some comic book hero, Harry."

"I know that."

"Then stop trying to be one."

"I'm the Boy-Who-Lived," whispered Harry, looking at her. Niamh heard his voice quaver as he spoke. "I'm supposed to protect people."

"You can't take that weight!" exclaimed Niamh, trying to keep her voice down. "Harry, you can't take that weight on your shoulders! It'll kill you!"

He looked at her, staring straight into her eyes. She was caught by the intensity of those pools of emerald green.

Harry smiled grimly and said, "I already have."

"Harry…"

She was cut off as Harry's large hand covered her mouth. He shook his head at her and said, "I've made my decision, Ni. I made it four years ago."

"What??" exclaimed Niamh behind his hand. It came out sounding like, "Mra??"

Harry dropped his hand and brushed back the hair that fell over his face. The black strands just fell back into place as he turned towards her, tucking his left leg underneath him.

"There's something I have to explain to you, Ni. About what I did this summer."

"Okay."

"You remember when we went to rescue the werewolf that bit Mik?"

Niamh nodded. "Yes. Amadeus, you said his name was."

"Right. You remember where we went after our rescue?"

The girl's brow furrowed then her blue eyes widened.

"The Elven plane," she gasped. "You spent the summer there!"

Harry nodded and Niamh continued, "But you said time moves faster there! An day there is an hour here!"

"That's right."

"But then…you'd be…" She did some fast calculating in her head and her eyes widened further. "You'd be twenty-one years old."

"Four years," said Harry, nodding. "Four years training with the best warriors there are. The Tethdaìr and five Elven War Masters. I learned a lot and got a lot more beaten into me."

"Harry, I…I don't know what to say. Who else knows?"

"Draco," replied Harry. "He figured it out. And I heard you two called your five year feud to a halt."

Niamh nodded and said, "Its not worth it. He's your friend and I've got to accept that." She frowned and added, "Why did you befriend him, anyway?"

Harry smiled and leaned back into the couch, tilting his head back so it rested against the wall behind it.

"We're the same."

"What?"

"We're the same," repeated Harry, turning his head to the side to look at her. "Him and me. Beaten as children, both abandoned in a sense, and both supposed to be something we're not."

"Something your not?" said Niamh.

"He's supposed to be a Death Eater. Because of his father. And I'm supposed to save the world."

"But your trying to do that. Aren't you?"

Harry laughed softly and sat up, his eyes suddenly dancing. He took her half-full mug from limp fingers and sat it on the floor by his own. Catching her hands up, he held them tight. He wanted to hug her but knew if he did what defenses he had built up around his heart against her would crumble like dry leaves.

"I'm saving the people that I love," he said in a soft, fierce voice. "Screw the world. I just want you and everyone else safe."

"Now you don't mean that," scolded Niamh gently.

"What?"

"Screw the world."

Harry laughed and said, "Well…maybe not. But still."

Niamh just nodded and smiled at him.

Harry returned it and wished he had the heart to break his own promise to not be with her.

Author's Note

Saerry: Forgive the sappiness. Mel came back as I was writing the chapter and took over my brain. Plus my own romantic tendencies came to life. Damn you for that, Mel!

Amelie: Aw, but the romance! The looooove!

Saerry: I hate romance, Mel.

Amelie: sticks tongue out Party pooper.

Saerry: Damn straight. Can't believe I actually managed to finish this chap in time to post for the 2 year anni. NM's 2 years old TODAY, people. Ain't it grand?

Harry: Sure. If you're you. I've had to deal with your torturing for two years!

Niamh: More if you count the other Harry's.

Mika: And that alternate reality version of NM that she's got planned.

Saerry: Hush, Mika! They're not supposed to know about that!

Mika: Heheh. Whoops.

Ginny: That's what you get for making us all Slyth's!

Severus: Indeed.

Saerry: Shut up, Sev. AND ALL OF YOU GET OUT OF MY HEAD!

Harry: Can't. We're stuck here.

Niamh: Along with every other character you've ever created.

Thomas: Including all those original one's you made up ages and ages ago.

Saerry: Shut up, Tom!

Saerwy: Shouldn't we end this?

Bryvend: The A/N is getting rather long.

Saerry: Its not my fault!

Atra: Yes, it is.

Everyone: SHUT UP, ATRA!

Atra: Why does everyone hate me?

Severus: I don't hate you.

Atra: Oh that's nice…

Severus: I LOATHE you.

Atra: sulks Thanks ever so much.

Saerry: AH! GET THE BOTH OF THEM OUT OF MY HEAD! OUT! OOOOUUUUTTTT!

We now interrupt this broadcast with a commercial

Seviel: Hello all. Another friendly occupant of Saerry's mind here. None of us – that's every single being that occupies our poor author's mind – have no idea when the next NM chapter will come out. Or the next chapter of anything else. The Van Helsing game has successfully scrambled her brains and a week long vacation is coming soon. Soooooo…no idea's when the next update shall be. Just hang tight and give us your lovely reviews!

Amelie: And just to let you guys know, there will be H/N goodness again! I just have to convince Saerry to let it in before the last two chapters!

Seviel: Aren't they already written?

Amelie: Them and the epilogue. Which is going to be added on to.

Seviel: Ah. Well, till next we write!

Saerry: I WRITE! I AM THE AUTHOR! ITS ALL MINE! MY PREEEECIOUS! grabs the 613 pages that make up the whole of NM

Seviel: arches eyebrow Okay, until SHE writes.

Amelie: waves Baaaaaaaaaiiiiiiii!!!

End broadcast

NM is, as of now, with the song at the beginning of it and the original disclaimer plus part titles, 613 pages and 321,530 words in Microsoft Word. Long ass story, ne? And we're not even done yet.