It was unusually cold for a September day, even allowing for the change in location from the American Southeast to England and for the particularly exposed conditions Marcus now stood in, far away from the cities he was used to. In fact, a Seer working for the Daily Prophet had predicted snow in October. Of course, had the Seer been wrong, the Prophet would simply have written a paragraph-long retraction that mumbled about the incoherence of prophecies and the difficulty required in getting a straight answer out of the sources of divination, or some other rubbish.
Marcus almost slapped himself. He had resolved not to allow himself to lose his American English, and already he was muttering about rubbish. Pretty soon, he expected, he would be interlacing his words with 'bloody's and 'prat's. And that appalling English personality too, which seemed to briefly consider feeling an emotion but finally decide not to, so that the slightest expression of anger could be regarded as far more displeasing than he had intended.
The old teacher snapped himself out of his thoughts, but it seemed he was simply too tired to focus his attention on a scene that wouldn't be interesting for another hour or so - of course he was required to wait here unless the train arrived early or there was some disaster he could respond to - an archaic school rule that Albus had declined to bend despite the well-reasoned arguments he had made against it. Marcus pushed a few of his grey hairs into more dignified positions atop his head. He had already gone to other lengths to improve his image for his first appearances in front of the students, carefully putting on his best expressions and rechecking the various differences in manners between the Muggle America he had lived in and the Wizarding England he had left so long ago.
So now here he was, with...forty-seven minutes to go before the train arrived, pacing and
rearranging his hair. Of course, he was not the only one waiting for the train to arrive from King's
Cross; several other teachers had also arrived, of whom he recognized only Albernicus and
Severus. Two guards had been sent from the Ministry of Magic, named Shacklebolt and Dawlish,
with a weird title with lots of vowels that Marcus could not quite remember. Nevertheless, their
attitudes and grace assured him that anything untoward would be dealt with smoothly.
"A most pleasant day, is it not?" Marcus spun, looking for the speaker, who he was almost certain was Severus Snape. As soon as he located the man, who had been behind him and to his right, he began to chide himself o allowing his senses to deteriorate to the point that he was surprised so often.
"It is a little warm, but other than that, it is very pleasant."
Severus had the most unpleasant smile, Marcus noted. Even though he was smiling at the
joke, it still appeared to be malicious. It barely deserved the word 'speculation' to think that the
Potions Master had been nursing that smile, honing its icy deceptiveness, for years, possibly
decades. From what he remembered, many Slytherin students learned the basics of those haughty
expressions in their very first years. Here that thin smile was directed toward him - yet somehow,
he felt instinctively, not at him - and then it parted as the teacher returned the joke. "And rather
too much sun, I suppose." Marcus nodded at that, pretending to shield his eyes from the sun that
was totally obscured behind heavy clouds. It seemed appropriate that the one time he was
required to be outside at the time of sunset it would be obscured behind the ominous grey sky.
At that last he could only shrug. More of the incessant Hogwarts charms would be acting
soon, and any spell to modify the weather - which would have brought a fine from the Ministry in
any case - would interfere with the ones that ensured a clear night for the Welcoming Feast.
Marcus suddenly visualized Minerva's disapproving glare as she lectured him for the
thunderstorm that had "terrified the students during what was supposed to be a joyful occasion"
As the image disappeared, he found himself sidetracked on that image. He doubted that there
would be much joy at the occasion today.
He stopped himself as he realized that Severus was looking at him expectantly. A brief
consideration of what had just happened revealed that he had stopped in the middle of a
conversation, sidetracked by his own thoughts. He smiled apologetically: "I apologize. I fear I
may still be a little groggy." That wouldn't quite do. It was now several hours into the afternoon,
but he paused to see if maybe it had succeeded anyway. When the Potions Professor raised an
eyebrow, Marcus improvised. "I'm afraid I studied rather later than I had intended last night, and
as a result I missed lunch by two or three hours."
Severus nodded curtly, and Marcus realized that he was being too familiar with a man who
was used to careful isolation from others. He would have to try a somewhat less invasive track if
he wished to form a trust between the two. A moment's consideration suggested that the dry,
almost silly humor would be an excellent opportunity. "I must say that you're looking particularly
excited to be here, Professor."
Severus's icy smile returned, the mocking note in his voice growing stronger. "Of course.
I wouldn't pass up an opportunity to see the Terrible Three."
Curiosity: "The Terrible Three?"
"Oh yes. You would not have heard. The Potter Boy is always accompanied by two friends of his, a Mister Weasley and a Miss Granger. Together, they seem to be responsible for most of the trouble that goes on in the school."
"Weasley? Isn't there a Weasley taking over the defense post?"
"Indeed. William Weasley is taking that post."
Marcus thought, saw an opening, and took it. "And there's no concern about favoritism?"
"Certain members of the staff were concerned, yes. The Headmaster refused to hear those concerns."
"That seems a little strange."
"When you work here for a little while, you will find that our Headmaster's tolerance for bending the rules seems to extend a little further with regards to certain famous individuals."
"Well," Marcus trailed off, thinking. It was important that they trust each other, and yet Marcus could see where that trust would go if he violated it so quickly by lying here. "Perhaps he does deserve a little leeway, considering what he must go through."
Black eyes narrowed, stared back at him, and Marcus suddenly realized the brilliant,
calculating mind behind them. "I would think that what he must go through is precisely the reason
why he can not be given any latitude."
"I see what you mean, but surely the boy must have some fun. We can't afford for him to win and then turn into another You-Know-Who, can we?"
"Professor Butler, I have come to know both Potter and the Dark Lord, and I can assure you there has never been any risk that Potter will turn out to be another Dark Lord."
"Why not?"
"For one thing, he lacks more than a small fraction of the power that the Dark Lord possesses." Marcus started to interrupt, but Severus spoke over him. "Oh, Potter could hold his own in a fight, but that is because he has trained all of his abilities toward such a conflict. On the other hand, the Dark Lord had never anticipated a duel against a single opponent as a significant threat, and has focused his powers in other aspects of the dark arts. Yet Potter, who has put all of his efforts into succeeding in a fight with the Dark Lord, would still be unable to defeat him in such a battle."
Marcus' own eyes narrowed at that thought, but he let them open as he suddenly realized
that before too long he and Severus might be seeing who could squint their eyes the most.
"Nevertheless, he could wreak a great deal of havoc, if he turned to the dark."
"While you are undoubtedly correct, the prospect of Potter turning 'to the dark', as you say, is impossible." Severus paused, seeming torn between continuing and halting. Marcus was about to prompt him when he continued on his own. "Potter has a capacity for love that has never been seen in any truly dark wizard. He is rather too softhearted to knowingly act cruelly, in any case."
"All right. I shall trust your word on that." He paused. Twenty-three minutes left. "Well, I assure you I had already resolved not to tolerate students who disrespect the rules. If what I've read of Mister Potter is correct, he may rather enjoy being treated like any other student." That felt like about the right tone for the master stroke; it was icy, faintly cynical, and witty. And it was wholeheartedly true. Of course, Severus would take it to mean something somewhat different from what Marcus had actually said, but no one could blame Marcus for the Potions Master's mistake.
Severus nodded. "I am pleased that the Headmaster has finally hired a teacher with that
dedication. That Umbridge woman had a dedication, mind you, but she had an insufferable
personality. I do hope I won't find yours to be just as displeasing, given time." And there it was,
the offer, left unspoken, of course, to give it that time. Marcus had known he would not be able
to form a friendship with such a cold man immediately; he would have to engage in a few cautious
conversations, untrusting, before Severus finally accepted their friendship. Nevertheless, a little bit
of work, and he would have a powerful new force on his side here. Combine that with
Minerva...perhaps he should work on establishing friendly relationships with all the Heads of
Houses. That did seem to be the thing to do.
Severus was looking at him oddly again, and Marcus realized he had slid into another reverie. "Sorry, sorry." He thought for a moment, discovered there were thirteen minutes remaining before the train arrived. "I'm afraid that my deepest fault may be that I think somewhat too much."
"If that truly is your deepest fault, I'm afraid you will not fit in well here." Marcus was
immediately perplexed by this statement, and when he let it show on his face Severus continued.
"The professors at Hogwarts tend to be a group of misfits. None of us is so normal as you make
yourself out to be."
"Oh, I don't make myself out to be normal at all. I said my greatest fault, Professor, not my greatest abnormality." He heard the train's horn and smiled. "It seems the train has arrived a few minutes early. I fear I will be needed across the platform in a rather short time. We'll talk later?"
Severus nodded, his jaw clenched in a way that suggested he was carefully stopping it from gaping open. Marcus turned and walked over to the other side, wishing he could think of a tune so that he could start humming. He took several steps backward, thinking about the rush of students getting off the train, and then several more steps back to be safe. He saw the train begin to arrive, and then looked away as something else caught his eye. Shacklebolt had detached himself from his previous, well-camouflaged spot, and had taken up a different position several steps closer to the tracks, and closer, Marcus realized, to the students who would be following them around. He immediately noticed that Dawlish had taken up a similar position near the carriages waiting to carry the older students.
Finally, the train pulled in, and as the door opened Marcus stood up even straighter,
warned himself to be more careful, and watched the first few students get off the bus. And then he
began to call: "FIRST YEARS! FIRST YEARS OVER HERE!" He somehow made himself
heard among the bustle of the disembarking students, and he saw a trickle of students separating
themselves from the crowd and he began counting in his head, letting his shouts run on autopilot.
There were six in this first group, plus another three over there, and those two geeks stumbling
over their own feet trying to run towards them, and...he counted thirty-eight. Frowning, he
counted again and this time found all forty. Shrugging, he turned. "Follow me, please."
He took out a match, struck it, and lit the lantern he had brought with him. "Watch your step, but not too closely. You'll be seeing Hogwarts any moment now." As he continued down the dark path, he couldn't help but smile at the appreciative "Ooh"s that came from behind him as he led them into site of the castle, standing beside the magnificent lake. Eleven boats, completely oarless, bobbed in the water beside the lake. "Four to a boat, now. Wouldn't want to annoy the giant squid." He smiled. Maybe, just maybe, he could handle being a teacher here. Marcus clambered into his own boat and turned, finding that a few students were somewhat hesitant about getting in a boat on a lake with a giant squid on it, but peer pressure reared its mighty head and they followed their classmates into the boats obediently. He smiled. "FORWARD!" And the boats moved forward, more smoothly than any boat Marcus had seen before. Hogwarts towered above them, above a magnificent cliff that he rather suspected would have been impossible to scale.
Marcus remembered something suddenly as the boats approached the cliff face. "Heads
down!" The students obeyed quickly, thankfully just quickly enough, as they passed through an
ivy curtain rather than smashing their heads against the stone cieling just a few inches above. But
they passed into an underground harbor soon enough, and Marcus stepped out first. The new
students did so too, and after a cursory inspection of their boats he led them to a massive door.
He raised his hand and knocked, the sound much louder than he had expected, three times.
His mind briefly flashed back to some interesting fact he'd picked up somewhere - that the
ceremony he was about to engage in had been dropped when Hagrid had been in charge of it,
because the half-giant's accent and mannerisms made it difficult to maintain the composure of the
ritual. But it had been brought back this year, as someone with a more refined voice had replaced
Hagrid. "Who goes there?"
"Marcus Aurelius Butler, with guests."
"Why do you come?"
"I come to teach and to learn of the ways of wizards."
"What do you offer?"
"We come without gifts, asking for charity." There was a long pause, and Marcus felt the students tense up behind him. Finally, the doors opened, revealing Minerva, standing at the front of the magnificent Entrance Hall. Marcus continued, only a touch less formally. "Professor McGonagall, the first years."
"Thank you, Professor Butler. I will take them from here." She made sure the first years
heard her with that, of course, but then quieted to a whisper. "Albus wants to see you in his office
immediately." She turned back to the first years. "Come." And she led them, magnificently,
through the Entrance Hall to be Sorted, leaving Marcus wondering what he'd screwed up now.
Nevertheless, he proceeded quickly up to the Headmaster's office. He paused for a moment when
he found the gargoyle to one side, leaving the staircase to his right wide open. He turned to look
at the gargoyle.
"You're really alive, aren't you? Everyone thinks you're some statue, but I can tell.
You're a real gargoyle." He smiled when the gargoyle didn't react and walked up the stairs.
Marcus slipped into the room to find five students sitting at chairs in front of Albus's desk.
A few twinkling ornaments sat around the room, but it seemed to be primarily occupied with
books now, an assortment of titles such as Powerful Charms and Enchantments and Hogwarts
Code of Rules and Regulations, and Additional Material for Headmasters, Volume XVIIc.
Marcus wondered for a moment at the difference between the room and what he had observed to
be the Headmaster's personality, but he was forced back to the conversation when Dumbledore
spoke: "Professor Butler. These are Ronald Weasley," indicating a tall, red-haired boy,
"Hermione Granger," a shorter, brown-haired girl who struck him immediately as a geek,
"Ginevra Weasley," a red-haired girl who was taller than Hermione but still seemed younger,
"Neville Longbottom," a chubby, brown-haired boy who seemed somewhat self-conscious, "and
Luna Lovegood," a blond-haired girl with a rather dreamy face. "Professor Butler, with the
exception of Miss Lovegood, Harry Potter has been riding the Hogwarts Express with these
students every year since he arrived. When he did not this year, they searched through the entire
Hogwarts Express and did not find him." Dumbledore paused, and Marcus noted that he looked
sad, his eyes no longer twinkling. "Marcus, you are the only teacher I can spare at the moment-"
"Sir?"
"Err, yes?"
"I am quite certain I saw Mister Potter getting off the Express."
Dumbledore said nothing for a moment. Then he narrowed his eyes. "Quite certain?"
"Yes. Sir, I may be from all the way out in America, but even to me Mister Potter's face is rather recognizable. I am certain that I saw him on the platform. If you would like, I can head down to the Great Hall and make sure..."
"No, no. That will not be necessary." Albus turned back to the students. "Please head back to the Great Hall. The feast will likely have started by now. If Harry is not present, send a student back up to me to tell me so, would you?" The five children filed out, wearing expressions with varying degrees of puzzlement. Albus looked back up at Marcus. "Do you have any ideas?"
"Ideas?"
"Yes. Why do you think he did it?"
"Sir, I don't know him."
"Well, even the people who know him best have trouble believing he did this, as you just saw. So I turn to you. You do rather have a gift for understanding people."
"I don't have any such gift, Headmaster. I'm just cynical."
Albus smiled at that, but persisted. "Why do you think he did it?"
Marcus paused to ponder it for a moment. "Well, sir, I see one explanation at the moment."
"Which is?"
"I suspect that Mister Potter feels that people are in more danger when they are close to him."
"What do you mean?"
"Sir, Sirius Black was Harry's godfather, and from what I understand loved Harry dearly.
James and Lily Potter were Harry's parents, and the only relatives he's ever had who loved him.
All of them died trying to protect him."
Albus inclined his head in realization. "So, in order to stop people from trying to protect him, he is trying to keep his friends away from him."
"Exactly." Marcus thought of something. "Oh shit."
"Language, Marcus!"
"Sorry, sir. But those students are going to go back to the Great Hall and they're going to sit next to Harry and try to talk to him."
"Yes?"
"And he's going to try to get them to go away." Marcus paused. "I suspect he will insult them. They are his friends. He knows how to hurt every single one of them. And I think he will do it, just to keep them away."
Albus frowned. "Frankly, Marcus, Harry has never been very much good without the help of his friends."
"I fear, Headmaster, that by the time we head down there to eat, Harry Potter will no longer have any friends."
A/N:
I had originally planned for this chapter to cover two scenes besides this one, but this one took a
chapter's length to write and I am trying to keep my chapters at a constant length. In a txt file,
that's about 20 kb. In word, it comes to about 6-7 pages, but that's because my writing style is
more prone to paragraphs of thought and description than to the incredibly dialogue-heavy stuff I
usually see in fanfiction.
The end of this story is not set - unlike most writers, I prefer not to work with a full outline,
though I do have certain ideas of what events I want to happen. Because of this, I am not picky -
if you come up with an idea or something you feel should happen in the future of this story, by all
means tell me. If I like it and it fits with what I've already established, I'll use it and credit you
with the idea.
Anyone concerned that this story is being told from the perspective of an original character, I
have several reassurances: first, Harry's perspective will be used in many scenes in the future - it
has simply suited each scene I've had so far to be from Marcus's perspective. Second, I've taken
extensive steps to prevent this character from being overcool - I assure you that my efforts to
make him seem awesome at presentare purely in character for his capabilities. Future chapters will
reveal many of his serious limitations
Furthermore, those of you who read too far between the lines may find yourselves very confused
as the story progresses.
Review, please!