KittenBabyGirl- I'm not quite sure what you mean. Neville has powers yes, but (according to my story) not fully developed ones. if you mean his interest in Herbology, it's just that, an interest, merely hinting at what form his powers will take.
Sheree- Explanation is forthcoming. Patience is a virtue. You can't rush a story. (Wimpass?)
Starrarose-If I recall, I said the next chapter or the one after that, and I said Animgus form in later chapters, not the next. MuAHAHAHAHA...chck chck boom...death scream...
Disclaimer: None of this is mine except the plot, Liam, Gabriel, Greg, and Katherine, and (as far as I know) my version of the Daywalkers.
The Chapter You've All Been Begging For Like Dogs. I stayed up until 2 in the morning just to get this to you guys. you'd better be very, very grateful and complementary (and forgiving of my errors)
Harry Potter and the Alliance of Blood
Chapter Six
In the sixth and seventh years at Hogwart's, the Hogwart's letter explained (Dumbledore had given Harry his before his departure), students were expected to decide their future careers and decide their schedules accordingly. A portion of the letter was designated to select their classes for their final years at Hogwarts, and to check and see if they qualified. They had to have two elective classes, and as many subject courses as they had obtained an A-O (at the teachers discretion) on their OWLS, and could drop up to two classes if they had achieved this in all their classes. This portion of the letter was why Ron, Hermione, and Harry were all sitting at a table at Florean Flortescue's, their assorted packages beside them. They had to complete their letters before their booklists were affirmed.
Hermione had dropped Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, and Astronomy, not even considering her decisions. The parchment made a whirring kind of sound, briefly, before an 'accepted' appeared in the blank. She rolled her eyes when Ron and Harry hesitated, looking at each other in a kind of befuddlement, not sure of how exactly to make a decision that would effect their entire lives.
"Harry, Ron. We can't have each class together, and work at the same place. We had to grow up some time," she said gently.
What do you guys want to do for a living?" she finally asked as they continued to hestitate.
"I...well...I've been thinking about it, a lot, and I looked up what I needed to do to be an Auror, and I think I can do it, if I try and I study. But...my grades..." Ron said, looking embarrassed. Hermione smiled at him brilliantly.
"Oh, that's the great thing about these letters! If you apply for a class you didn't get the grade in, it asks for your career choice, examines it and compares it to your records, which include paper grades, teacher notes, etc., and if the system deems you able, it'll give you the classes. So...you'll need Charms, because it's a requirement for everyone, Transfiguartion, Defense, your two electives, and...Potions," Hermione said. Ron made a face, and she gave him a pat on the shoulder. As Ron copied it down, Harry suddenly remembered what he had forgotten to tell them.
"Oh, you guys! You won't believe this!" Harry exclaimed with a grin. Ron finished scribbling down his classes, and looked up at Harry in curiosity as the parchment made the whirring sound.
"What?" Harry couldn't help but grin wider.
"Well...Dumbeldore wanted me to take lessons with Gabriel, he's the current Prince and the new Defense teacher, and Liam, for Dueling Theory and Practice, and McGonnagal, so I could be an Animagus-"
"That's wonderful, Harry! I'm proud of you!"Hermione beamed. Harry shook his head, still smiling.
"No, that wasn't the most important part. I consented to take Dark Arts lessons with Snape, and I went to his office, and it was decorated, in earth tones. And Gabriel came in, and he and Snape were acting funny, and I get kicked out of the room, and Snape is utterly and completely gay!" Harry laughed, the hilariousness of it unbearable now that he had shared it. Ron and Hermione looked at him, dumbstruck, before Ron burst out laughing too and Hermione tried to stifle giggles. She frowned sternly, though her lips twitched.
"Oh! I can just imagine Snape wearing bright colors, and having a high voice..." Ron choked, dissolving into laughter again, Harry following suit. Hermione cleared her throat, and the boys' mirth slowly abated.
"What does your letter say, Ron?" she asked after a few moments of comfortable silence. The red-head paled, his humour rapidly fading, as he took up the letter again.
"Ronald Weasley," he read croakily "all of your class choices have been accepted barring Potions and Transfiguration, the prior of which you obtained a P rating in, when an O was needed, and the latter of which you obtained an A in, when a E was needed. Please write your chosen career/s or career area below." he shakily complied, and the whirring resumed.
"So, Harry. What about you?" Hermione asked him. Harry gave a shrug.
"Not an Auror, since I've spent enough of my time fighting, and not a Quidditch player, because then it wouldn't be as fun anymore, but it's obvious my specialty is the Dark Arts. They've become easy since my birthday, so I guess anything in that area," Harry replied slowly, gauging his friends' reactions. Hermione considered.
"I'd say the same as Ron, though Potions is an option. But there are lots of Dark potions..." Harry wrote all those she had suggested, because a wise man followed a Granger 'suggestion.' His letter whirred. Ron's letter stopped abruptly, and he looked and sighed.
"Accepted," he said with a smile, and Hermione beamed at him and Harry clapped him on the shoulder. And then his letter silenced.
Harry Potter, all of your class choices have been accepted barring Potions, in which you obtained a P, when and O was required. Please write your chosen career/s or career area below.
Harry considered a long time before he wrote: The Dark Arts Field. He wasn't sure if there was even anything he could do in the field, except be a Death Eater or something. the whirring commenced, and did not abate for several minutes. Harry could just imagine the letter scanning his entire known history, every disciplinary act, every single comment of Snape's on one of his essays...it stopped, and Harry whooped when "accepted" appeared on his letter.
"Excellent, Harry! All right, time for Flourish and Blotts!" Hermione chirped enthusiastically, bouncing off the bench and looking cheerier than she had all day. Ron and Harry followed, exchanging those long-suffering grins. Harry examined his new book list, which had before listed only Standard Book of Spells: Grade Six, and now listed NEWT level books in all his subjects, Curses, Hexes, Jinxes, Countercurses, Remedies, and Defensive Manuever, and Walking in Shadow: The Truth About The Nature of Magic. He followed his friends into the store, vaguely wondering if his career choice whould be recorded anywhere.
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Harry, Hermione, and Ron strolled casually down Diagon Alley, loaded down with packages, Harry updating them on his lessons, talking about Greg and Katherine, and Ron and Hermione talking about Percy's apology, what they knew about Voldemort's activities (Harry resolved to start getting a paper delivered again), and bits and pieces of their thoughts Harry had missed. Ginny was maintaining a correspondence with Dean Thomas, the business of Fred and George was booming, and no Order members were dead yet. All in all, it was good news. They asked if he was doing okay (referring to Sirius), and about his Animagus studies, and what spells he learned, and even one, rather unexpected question...
"So, Harry. Got any one in mind?" Hermione asked teasingly. Harry stared, uncomprehendingly for a moment before he blushed and shook his head, and she grinned and said nothing more.
They reached the Leaky Cauldron.
"How are you guys getting home?" Harry asked.
"We're meeting Dad at Tonk's house, and he's going to escort us from there. I guess...we'll see you September 1st," Ron replied. Harry nodded, feeling rather sad about leaving his friends. Hermione pulled him into a hug.
"We'll write you, ok?" she whispered, and he nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. Ron clapped him on the shoulder.
"See you, mate."
"Bye." Harry stepped up to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and tossed it in the flames. With one last wave at Hermione and Ron, he stepped in, intoned "Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardrdy", and was gone.
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The remaining two weeks passed in a mixture between a blur and a slow creep, depending on if Harry was busy or brooding. He learned a score of new spells, could hold his own (if Gabriel went easy on him and accidently misstepped) in fencing, and worked his way through the tigers and was ready to try another leopard. On the 31st, his tutors informed him his lessons would halt until a definite schedule could be arranged and they had all adjusted to being back in the yearly rhythm.
"It'll be a week or two, Potter. I'm sure you shall be simply dying to resume lessons."
Snape had said in his usual biting, sardonic way. Harry couldn't summon up any hate for the professor. In spending several hours a week with Harry, Snape had slowly gotten used to the idea that the Gryffindor wasn't exactly like his father, and Harry had gotten used to the Potion Master's abrasive manner, and had stopped blaming him, admittedly unfairly, for Sirius's death. Hagrid came back on the 20th, and Harry spent some of his spare time down in the hut, having tea and discussing his lessons, and France. Sometimes they went to visit Grawp, who was starting to make gurgling noises similar to "Harry" (which pleased and confused him by turns). They avoided speaking of Sirius, or anything unpleasant, really, since their last serious conversation had driven Harry away, and Hagrid didn't seem to want to repeat that. Harry also spent a lot of time with Greg and Katherine. He started working with them in the library, talking casually. He learned that Katherine was a Muggle born whose mother had died when she was twelve, and having no living relatives, she had come to stay at Hogwarts during the holdiays. She said this casually, as if it didn't bother her. Greg's reason was not so forthcoming, and he told it to Harry privately.
"My parents didn't like the fact that I'm gay. They kicked me out and disowned me completely last year. I guess they were disappointed that I wouldn't carry on the family line."
This statement made Harry wonder what his parents would have thought about him, apparently, being gay, but he shied away from those thoughts, feeling sick when he wondered if he would have been in a boat like Greg's, though he was kind of sure if his mother was willing to die for him, she wouldn't disown him for the fact that he liked boys. Mostly sure. Most of the time, Harry didn't think about the Prince. he really had no idea who it was, and he assumed it was an older person, from outside the school, who Harry would meet in front of Dumbledore. They would do whatever needed to be done, and move their separate ways. A Prince would probably be rather busy, and probably had no interest in Harry at all other than as a necessary evil to assume his throne. But he did brood at his talent with the Dark Arts, and the disappearances and killings of various members of the Wizarding community, and, of course, Sirius, who he missed unbearably. Harry felt indescribably guilty, because he knew that what had happened had been, in a large part, his fault. He asked every deity he had ever heard of, every night, to forgive him and let Sirius know he was sorry. Harry became emotional easily, crying in his bed, feeling the ice of his rage sweeping over him at the slightest thing, and, every once in awhile, a feeling of absolute terror that he could never defeat Voldemort and he would fail the world. And then, though the time had been spasmodic, it was the morning of September 1st.
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Harry stood on the front steps of Hogwarts, Katherine and Greg by his side, as the carriages driven by thestrals drove up. Groups of students rushed inside, some giving brief greetings to the occupants of the steps. A group of three girls and a guy attached themselves to Katherine, and she waved goodbye to Greg and Harry as they hustled her inside.
"You'll have to run your choice by me, Harry. I know all the gossip," Greg whispered to him. Harry didn't blush, becasue he had long since become used to the seventh year's banter. He nodded with a cheeky grin.
"I'll probably end up with someone horrible," he replied in an undertone, and Greg grinned before spotting someone over Harry's shoulder.
"Patrick!" he cried rapturously, and rushed forward, leaping on a boy with sandy blonde hair and snogging him ferociously. Harry gaped before looking away, blushing. Most people treated the couple with indifference, some had that 'awww, how cute' look on their faces, a few did the same as Harry, and even fewer scowled and looked disgusted. Harry felt easier about his discovery than since he had discovered it. Ron and Hermione approached, both with wide grins, and Hermione hugged him enthusiastically, and Ron gave his comfortably familiar phrase,
"Hey, mate." Harry was about to open his mouth to suggest they go inside, when someone else spoke in a very familiar voice, thought the words were very unfamiliar.
"Hello, Harry." The Boy Who Lived looked away from Ron's face to see Draco Malfoy standing there, his lips slightly parted as if to say something, before they closed, as if he changed his mind. The first thought that ran through Harry's head was 'Jesus Christ he's gorgeous!' He was at least six inches taller than Harry's pitiful 5'7, and his face was heartwrendingly beautiful. The Slytherin's hair was not smoothed back by gel but hung free to the base of his neck, and his formerly grey eyes were a molten silver, burning with an expression Harry had never before seen in his eyes. Harry's next idea was to ask why Malfoy had called him Harry, before his lips parted again, revealing the tips of long, sharp...fangs, and when Harry processed that information, emotions hit him in a confused deluge with the awful realization. Panic welled, causing him to breathe in choked gasps, terror, shock, surprise, and then the rage, swimming among them all like a deadly shark. The steps emptied of all but the four sixth years, and Ron and Hermione shivered as a cold, malevolent feeling moved through the air. Harry's eyes were likeemerald ice, cold and hard, and so angry, but scared at the same time.
"No," he whispered, his voice helpless,shaking his head. "No. Not you. Anyone but you. No." He then spoke determidly, and with a venom rarely heardfrom his lips, "Fuck the prophecy. Oh, and you can fuck off, your Highness," Harry hissed. Malfoy actually flinched, and Hermione opened her mouth to say something, she didn't know what, but Malfoy spoke first.
"Harry-"
"Fuck. You!" Harry spat. "Come on, guys." He swept inside, and his friends helplessly followed, realizing what was going on but to shocked to know what to say, and to give advise on what Harry should do. They took their seats right before McGonnagal led in the first years, cutting off attempts at conversation. But Harry whispered one word as Axa, Lizza was sorted. It was a tear-filled, heart-wrenching word, muttered in desperation and heard only by two people at the Staff Table, and one who slipped in discreetly through the Great Hall doors, his face distant and cold.
"No."
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Ask and you shall receive. I think this reaction is kind of unique, instead of something cliche (Harry sighed happily and feel into his arms "I have loved you since third year") or (He fainted in pure shock) or (He laughed and never stopped) or...just kidding. Did you like it? Did I confuse anyone with the letters?
Review!
