Summary: Harry fuses with the Haunter of the Dark and is raised by the wizard who rescues him. (Wizard as in HP Lovecraft wizard, that is!)
Disclaimer: I own naught.
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Pre-fic Comments:
All latin can be considered 'doggy latin', in that I don't know Latin and am trying to fake it.
Some adult language in this. Having a good knowledge of canon proceedings would be a good idea, as I skip a bit of detail later on.
* * *
"I'm a man who's sick , but I got class,
'coz you only get respect when you're kickin' ass."
-KMFDM, 'Beast'
* * *
"First year Slytherins this way," a dry male voice called out once tea had finished and Dumbledore had dismissed them.
Harry and his two friends followed the fifth year prefect they had been sitting near, as he guided them and their yearmates to the Slytherin complex. It seemed to involve a lot of walking, going down stairs, and getting bored in general. Eventually, however, they reached a patch of wall with a carving of a snake.
"This is the entrance," the prefect said. "The password is price. Don't forget, or you'll be stuck outside. Don't bring in the other houses, or we'll make you go live with them if you're so fond of them. Don't tell, or we'll kill you."
The snake carving moved as the prefect said 'price', slithering across the wall as it formed a circle, mouth biting it's tail. The stone contained in the circle faded into a dull grey mirror.
"Well?," the prefect asked. "Move!"
Malfoy sniffed, striding through the circle, his two goons following. The girls followed him, and Harry, Satanus, Tim, Blaise, and the prefect made up the tail end. As the prefect went through, the snake shifted back to it's previous position, mirror melting back into the stones of the wall.
The room beyond the portal was composed of grey stone, green carpet, black leather couches, and a lit fireplace at the other end. There were burning torches on the walls, but they didn't seem to consume themselves as they burnt. The prefect moved through the group of first years to the fireplace.
"There are a number of rooms in the complex," the older boy said. "You will choose your own, and it will be your own responsibility to guard it against unwelcome guests. Once you have chosen, your belongings will appear at the foot of the bed. The private library of Slytherin House is through that door, there, and the bathrooms are through there. Your timetables will be handed out tomorrow, at breakfast."
Harry yawned, getting tired. The prefect dismissed them all, then the three of them set out to find their own rooms.
* * *
"Okay," Satanus said, "I vote we take this one."
The room in question was quite large, about ten meters square. Thin stone pillars were dotted thinly through it. It was furnished with desks, drawers seats and so on.
"Okay," Tim shrugged. "Here it is. Bags this bed."
He took the one nearest the door. His trunk appeared at the foot of it as he sat on it. Satanus and Harry quickly took the other two beds, then the hacker looked around.
"Hey, can any of you guys see a power point?," he asked as he started unpacking his things. The small stereo, his laptop, and an extension cable were among the first things he brought out.
"Nope," Harry shrugged. "Keep it down, cos I'm going to bed."
* * *
The next morning, Harry was woken up by Satanus swearing a blue streak.
"Stupid piece of shit room!," Satanus swore.
"Wha's the problem," Harry yawned, reaching for his glasses.
"There isn't a power socket in here!," Satanus complained. "We have to shift to one that does!"
"Can't they magic one in here?," Tim asked, also woken up by Satanus.
"They should be able to," Harry shrugged. "What's for breakfast?"
"Dunno," Satanus groused. "I've been sorting my stuff out."
Harry's mouth dropped open as he looked at the desk that Satanus had appropriated. His monitor, keyboard, and mouse were sitting on it, with the laptop sitting open and running on the mousepad. The computer itself was sitting on the floor, by one pair of desk legs. A massive pair of speakers framed the desk, a component amplifier standing underneath the monitor.
"How in God's name did you fit all that stuff in your trunk?," Tim asked, not quite as gobsmacked as Harry.
"Got the trunk in that Diagonally place," Satanus shrugged. The laptop's power expired as the screen from his game of Quake to a black screen of death, or no power. "F^^K!"
"Language," the prefect reprimanded them, entering the room. "Foul language shows a lack of intelligence. Brooks, is this setup yours?"
Satanus nodded, frowning slightly. "I can't find a power socket, though."
The prefect's mouth changed ever so slightly, into what could be extrapolated as an evil grin. "Ask Professor Dumbledore to get you one at breakfast. He should be there, now."
"Thanks," Satanus said, rushing over to his trunk and pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. "Harry! Tim! Get yer gear on!"
The other two boys groaned, climbing out of bed. Even if they waited for Satanus to go away, he'd probably wake them up coming back for his stuff. School sucked.
* * *
"Ah, food, how I love thee," Tim said, munching on his cereal. "These Wizards sure have weird cereal, though."
"They're all mad," Harry shrugged. "That's my working assumption."
"Potter," a familiar voice drawled. "I might have known. Where is the last member of your gang of stooges?"
"Wow," Harry said brightly, "you've heard of the Three Stooges? Aren't they Muggles?"
Draco blushed lightly at this. "Never heard of them. Sheer coincidence. I'm giving you another chance, Potter. Move away from those mudblood friends and that... /Muggle/ professor, and I might consider friendship with you."
Harry opened his mouth to reply, when a loud, angry, eleven year old voice made itself known at the head table.
"NO ELECTRICITY? WHAT KIND OF BACKWATER HELLHOLE ARE YOU RUNNING HERE, YOU SCHIZOPHRENIC OLD FART?! WHAT KIND OF ILLITERATE, INNUMERATE SCHOOL DOESN'T HAVE ELECTRICITY? I'M SURPRISED YOU'VE GOT RUNNING WATER! YOU--"
Satanus' voice abruptly cut out as McGonagall, recovered from her shock, cast 'silencio' on him.
"Mr Brooks," she began, "how /dare/ you speak to the Headmaster with such /disrespect/? Ten--"
"Minerva," Snape cut in, "he was... merely expressing his displeasure with the state of affairs here in Hogwarts with regards to modern conveniences, am I right, Mr Brooks?"
Satanus nodded impotently, his face a black stormcloud.
"Professor Snape is right," Dumbledore managed. He had just about had a heart attack when a first year had shouted him down. "However, respect in this school must be maintained. Five points from Slytherin for conduct."
"Finite Incantatum," Professor McGonagal pronounced.
"No power? What about my computer? What about all my reference material /on/ the computer?," Satanus demanded loudly. The silent Great Hall could all hear him quite clearly. "And I've seen the timetable. /No/ maths. /No/ English. /No/ Science. Heck, you don't even teach basic arithmetic! What has this hellhole got over a muggle school?"
"/Mister/ Brooks," Professor McGonagall began, "this school has a long history of educating wizards. We have no /need/ for muggle subjects."
Professor Vector shot her a black look at that. "Minerva, he has a good point about the maths. Why, when I get new students in their third year, I have to teach the pureblood students things that a first year muggle-born student knows!"
This was obviously a sore point for Vector.
"Eh-hem!," Dumbledore coughed. "Much as this is interesting, can I have my breakfast? Mr Brooks, could you please return to yours?"
Satanus, still grumbling angrily, returned to the Slytherin table and grabbed an empty bowl.
Gryffindor and Hufflepuff looked at him with hate in their eyes. How dare he abuse Headmaster Dumbledore like that!
Ravenclaw looked at him thoughtfully. This first year was obviously a thinker, and worthy of further study.
Half of Slytherin looked at him worshipfully for shouting down the muggle-loving Headmaster (ignoring Satanus' origins for the time being), while the other half were jealous of his instant notoriety.
"What's first on the timetable, Mister I Know All?," Harry asked.
"Your uncle," Satanus said. His scowl lifted. "He's cool, although we've got the Gryffindors with us. What's he going to teach today?"
"A demonstration, probably," Harry shrugged.
* * *
"I'm sure that my father will have this muggle crackpot out of school faster than you can say 'Quidditch'," Draco Malfoy boasted outside the classroom while they waited.
"Shut up, Malfoy!," a redheaded boy yelled, shaking a fist.
The pale blonde boy looked the other up and down insultingly. "Red hair... ratty clothes... you must be a Weasley."
The other boy shouted in rage, then leapt at Malfoy, fist first.
"Ten points from Slytherin and Gryffindor," an old voice said as the classroom door opened. "Sit down at a table, but do not touch /anything/ at the front of the room."
"What were the points for?," Malfoy asked pugnaciously.
"A lack of intelligence, and failing to discover a non-physical way to resolve your issues," Professor LaVelle said, stepping over a green line of gem dust on the floor to his desk. "Now. I am going to call the roll, and each of you will respond with 'present' if you are indeed here. Brown, Lavender."
He went through the class list easily, then a brown haired girl in Gryffindor raised her hand.
"Yes, Miss... Granger?"
"Sir, why are we learning summoning, when it is proscribed to learn that?"
The Professor, clothed in his best muggle suit with the gold pocketwatch, sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He then put his hands in his pockets. "Only summoning from the outer spheres is, in fact, illegal in Britain. I have only recently /learnt/ of these laws and if you wish to know more about them, I recommend you ask the Headmaster. Does anyone else have any questions?"
Draco Malfoy's hand shot up immediately.
"Malfoy?"
"What makes a muggle like /you/ qualified to teach any kind of magic?," the aristocratic boy asked with a sneer.
"Well, then, let me show you," Professor LaVelle said jovially.
The old man went into a back room, then the class exploded with talk. The Slytherins were debating whether the possibility of learning /summoning/ was outweighed by learning it from a muggle, while the Gryffindors were debating whether they could get away with finding out if this teacher did illegal magic.
When Professor LaVelle emerged from the back room, all the pureblood students fell silent, mouths open in disbelief.
The whitehaired man was clothed in a simple black robe, with an undulating red line composed of writing flowing from the bottom to the top of the robe. His feet were bare, as were his arms.
"What's that for?," Harry heard Granger asking.
Malfoy, in shock, hissed back, "He's dressed as a Priest of the Nameless One!"
"Silence," Professor LaVelle commanded. All the first years immediately quietened. "Now, no one must make a single sound until I allow them. No one must move a muscle. Anyone who does may incur... dire... consequences."
The Professor carefully stepped over the lines of shimmering gem dust, picking up the hem of his robes to avoid brushing the carefully arranged design. Once in the center of the circle, he carefully checked the design, to make sure that it had not smudged and that it was truly drawn.
The old man started chanting, in a language that gave a good feeling to most of the watching class. Waves of light rose from the gem dust, eventually forming a featureless being of light on one side of the circle.
~Who calls me?,~ the figure asked. It's voice reminded the onlookers of warm, sunny days.
"I, He who follows the Nameless One," Professor LaVelle said in a strong voice. "I command you to take no action save speech. What are you, and what is your function?"
~I am one of those who do the bidding of He Who Is,~ the figure answered. ~He has long had his eye on you.~
"I command you to begone!," Professor LaVelle said. The featureless being of light disappeared, and the gem dust had disappeared as well.
Harry, inured to that sort of display, looked around. Tim and Satanus looked very attentive, Draco and his cliche looked torn between worship and horror, and the Gryffindors looked terribly upset.
"That," Professor LaVelle said, moving back to his desk, "was a minion of one of the Seraphim. A normal person would call it an Angel, I suppose. As you can see, the energy the components provide consume the components entirely most of the time."
"... angels?," Harry heard Granger say weakly. "Good Lord."
Draco's upper lip lifted involuntarily in disdain. "/Angels./"
The word carried a world of dislike.
"Hey!," Ron Weasley shot back at Draco Malfoy. "Angels are good, they are!"
"In actual fact," the Professor cut in, "they are neither good nor bad. As with what you would call 'devils', they have their own agenda. This agenda may be in accordance with yours, or it may be diametrically opposed, but never assume that they are benevolent. The labels over simplify.
"Now, before you can think of doing anything like that, it is first necessary to understand energy, how to gain energy, and how to discharge it in the necessary fashion to power your Rite. As you can see..."
Harry sighed deeply as his uncle began writing notes on the blackboard. Man, he'd covered this stuff /years/ ago.
* * *
In lightning time, the entire school had learnt about Professor LaVelle. Most of the houses had unilaterally decided that he was Dark, but were confounded by the fact that Professor Dumbledore had acknowledged that Professor LaVelle was a Muggle.
* * *
Post-fic Notes:
Sorry this is short compared to the first two chapters.
SorceressMisha: They are going to wind up somewhat isolated, I'm afraid.
Lochar, Kickaha, Henriette, Stratagemini, Alex DarkFire, TopQuark: Thanks for the reviews and encouragement!