I've fixed a few minor things in this story and toned Harry's power down a bit. Hopefully now that I think I have things figured out it won't give me as many problems. This story will also be leaning towards light slash later on.
ShadeDancer
Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own Harry Potter, I just like to write my own version of it.
Chapter 2: When Enemies Act Civil
Harry wasn't seen the next day at all until near evening when he came in for dinner. This time it was McGonagall that met him at the door. Evidently Dumbledore had realized that Hagrid just wasn't enough.
"There you are Potter" she said briskly "where have you been all day? You can't just wander off; precautions must be taken even if you are safe here."
Harry cast his eyes downward as if he was just realizing that he had done something wrong. He half-heartedly gestured to the broom in his hand and the book in his other.
"I was flying for a bit but decided to read instead. I didn't mean to cause anyone worry."
His voice held the exact tone McGonagall wanted to hear, one that was slightly repentant and sheepish; a well practiced tone in his case.
"Well come along then Potter" McGonagall continued, a slight smile on her face now "it's time for dinner in the Hall."
The stress on the word Hall wasn't lost on Harry and to buy himself a bit more time he gestured to the things in his hand again "is it okay if I run these up to my rooms first?"
Receiving the go ahead, Harry left McGonagall and headed towards the suite of rooms that were his to use during the summer; he had a feeling the rooms brought him closer under the watchful eyes of some of the teachers instead of leaving him in the isolated Gryffindor Tower. He waited until after he had hissed the password to the Firewinder King Cobra that guarded his rooms and had shut the portrait firmly before allowing a smirk to cross his face. The Defense book in his hand stayed the same unless you counted the pages turning into correspondence sheets from his true friends, but the broom had melted into a wicked-sharp sword.
It was graceful and well balanced, the long and thin silver blade honed to a sharp edge. Runes of power were engraved along the blade in a language few could recognize and almost none could read in this day unless they were given the privilege to learn the art. The hilt was also a thing of beauty. It was wrapped in expensively cured black Dragon hide that was soft to the touch and allowed for a comfortable grip and serpents twined out from the hilt to form an enchanted guard that kept others from using the personalized blade. At the very end of the hilt one of the serpent's head formed a pommel and an emerald stone shot through with black onyx rested in the open mouth. It was Slytherin's sword and he had magically reforged it himself under the watchful eyes of his fencing master whom he had just come back from having a lesson with in the Forbidden Forest; it was a feat only another Parselmouth could have accomplished.
Harry had never felt as alive as he did when he fenced and Lucius Malfoy was a Master of the Art. He was teaching both Harry and Draco all he knew in hopes that they would be able to carry along the pureblood tradition that few honored anymore. To Harry's disappointment Draco hadn't been able to come that day with his father to meet Harry in the forest for a lesson, but Lucius had brought the charmed book for him. While to others it looked to merely be a book on Defense Against the Dark Arts, to the eyes of Harry and those privileged to own one of the linked copies the pages were correspondence parchments. Inside was a piece of parchment for each of Harry's Slytherin friends and other people he needed to stay in contact with but it would seem suspicious if he wrote to them by owl post or was seen contacting them in any way.
Seeing that he could linger at least a moment longer Harry open the 'Defense book' to the page with an archaic symbol inscribed on top with a dragon curled under it. In an elegant hand Harry scrawled 'I missed kicking your ass in fencing Dray. I will write more later when I have time. Take care and tell Narcissa I will write her as well.' Satisfied that the message would have to do for now Harry tapped the archaic symbol and watched the writing fade away into the parchment before shrinking the book and slipping it into his pocket where it rested against some other odds and ends. One last look around the rooms and a wave of his hand had the sword once again looking like a broom and neatly stored away, he had to hurry down to dinner now before another watchdog was sent after him. It wouldn't do to make Dumbledore suspicious when he still needed to manipulate the man and manipulations worked better when you had a persons' trust.
Dinner was a silent affair and Harry felt as if once again all eyes were on him. By now he was almost wishing that he had defied the veiled hints and took his meal elsewhere once again. It would have been more comfortable than this even if he didn't really want to deal with the repercussions. Giving up on pretending to eat but knowing he couldn't make an exit quite yet Harry pulled a shrunken potion's text out of his pocket and used his wand to enlarge it. At least while he was in Hogwarts he was able to use his wand without fear of another mockery of a Ministry trial, Dumbledore had told him this the day summer term started as if he was handing Harry a great and magnanimous gift he should be grateful for. He also knew that he was expected to use this 'privilege' to prepare for the upcoming war against Voldemort where he was the hope of the wizarding world. A few of the teachers spared a glance at him at the most, not really caring what he was up to but keeping a watchful eye on him nonetheless.
They probably assumed he was reading a text on Defense for he imagined that they would show more shock if they realized it was a tome on Potions, a class he normally showed no interest in and was reputed to fail dismally at. Yet unlike what most thought Harry was very good at Potions, not quite High-Master material, but he could brew many complicated potions without any outside aide. So far it had just been to his advantage to only hand in mediocre work and not show his true potential, the same went for most of his other classes as well. Of course there were a few potions that were determined to elude his comprehension and the Nevestigo Draught was one of them. There must be some trick to it that he was missing, something simple, something that the author didn't mention in the book. Perhaps if he actually tried to brew it he would be able to spot the problem, he hadn't gotten beyond analyzing the text yet for a solution, or perhaps—it was worth a shot after all.
Leaning around Professor McGonagall Harry spoke "Excuse me Professor Snape, I was wondering if I could ask you about a potion. I'm reading about it in this text here but it seems as if the author missed something and to brew the potion this way would result in an explosion."
The other professors had gone silent and a few even leaned forward with interest to see what would happen. Whether this was a reaction to the fact that Harry was speaking in a somewhat knowledgeable tone on the subject of potions, was discussing potions at all, or the fact that he had dared to address the one Professor that held a personal vendetta against him for the simple reason that he was his father's son. Harry sat calmly as the Professor's dark gaze rose from his plate to meet his own emerald stare.
"Bring the text here Potter" Snape said calmly as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening and motioned for Harry to take the empty seat next to him that the Defense teacher would normally occupy.
Harry gracefully complied and sat silently as conversation slowly resumed at the table around him and Snape, courtesy of one of Snape's patented glares. Severus meanwhile was quickly running his eyes over the ingredients and brewing instructions, not showing any reaction to the name of the potion or the fact that it was supposed to make the drinker unable to be traced by tracking spells, before flipping to the books cover to read the title. When he spoke it was softly so that even Dumbledore would be hard pressed to discover what they were talking about without being obvious in his spying.
"This is a decent tome you have on potions here Potter though there are many inconsistencies within its pages" Snape began "and you are correct in realizing that following the instructions would result in a ruined potion as well as an explosion. You will find many of the Potions in this book seem incorrect. It is not sure whether the author did this on purpose to separate the incompetent from the Masters and to make those brewing the potion's think about their actions and the consequences or whether the author did not know the subject matter. For this potion to be brewed correctly you must add two shredded Jabberknoll feathers after the flobberworm mucus and stir counter clockwise for an even minute."
Harry found himself absorbing the knowledge the professor was giving him but to be on the safe side he fished a quill out of his pocket and penned the instructions in with an elegant hand that was not usually present in his school work. He did not notice the slightly appraising, and perhaps dare we say approving, glance Snape gave him. The moment he finished inscribing the instructions Harry found that the Potions Master had once again taken possession of his book and then his quill. Turning to the contents page Snape began to mark asterisks next to the names of most of the potions, occasionally flipping the pages and reading through the instructions before flipping back and marking a few more potions. A few minutes later Snape nodded in satisfaction and closed the book before handing it and the quill back to Harry.
"I have marked all the incorrect potions in the book and believe you would find it in your best interests to research them. We will discuss the first ten after dinner in a week's time."
Snape turned back to his dinner then and Harry knew a dismissal when it was given. Harry loitered long enough after that to indulge in a bowl of chocolate pudding before standing and excusing himself from the Great Hall. That had went better than he ever could have expected.
It cheered Harry immensely when he got back to his rooms to find that Draco had written back and a few others had initiated conversations with him. Blaise was as knowledgeable as ever; Crabbe and Goyle were being their witty selves, the stupidity act was just that; and Draco knew what to say to cheer him up even if he hadn't let the blond know he was depressed.
'There is no way you could kick my ass as you so uncouthly put it scar-head' Dray wrote 'Father says the muggle lover has you on as short a leash as he can put you without actually chaining you to his bed. What do they think you are, a mutt like that so called godfather of yours? Though given your animagus forms--Sit boy! Beg! I'll be there for the next lesson though and you could always disappear for a few hours and conveniently find your way to Malfoy Manor. I'm sure mother would be all too delighted to fuss over her 'dark-haired son' and we could have the others over for Quidditch. At the very least they will have to let you out to go to Diagon Alley for you school things, they can't dare deny you that. And if they do deny you and will not allow you to go shopping for your own school things blow this damn cover you have assumed and show your true colors, the beautiful silver and green of Slytherin, to the wizarding world. It's time someone shoved their pompous heads out of their asses and made them realize what is really going on around them. Kick Mrs. Norris for me, Filch too if you think you can get away with it.'
Harry smiled a true smile as he wrote back to his friends and then turned to the rolls of parchment that Hedwig had left for him while he was out. It seemed Hermione and Ron had written to him as well. Their letters were full of condolences and sympathy on his loss of 'Snuffles' and yet even while saying she was deeply sorry and knew how he was feeling about losing Sirius Hermione was still badgering him about doing his homework. At least Hermione's letters had something behind them, a purpose; Ron's were simply empty and meant nothing to him. Wouldn't it shock his two supposedly best friends if they knew he wasn't grieving for Sirius, only pretending to? Wouldn't it shock them to know that he hadn't gone to the Department of Mysteries for Sirius but to get a hold of the prophecy and had used the Sirius reason as an excuse when they had badgered him about it? His saving people reputation had come in handy, but then most everything he had ever done since coming to Hogwarts had a purpose even if it did labele him as the epitome of Gryffindor; he had a mask to keep intact after all. As for Sirius, he hadn't really known the man after all and from what he had seen realized that there was nothing dependable about him. And then there was the way he had treated Snape and the other Slytherins while he was at Hogwarts. Sirius had been a petty man that did not deserved to be idolized.
Harry could never forgive the juvenile man for acting as he had towards the very people who had cared for Harry when his family and the people that were supposed to be there for him weren't. Harry had been livid when he found out about Sirius endangering Snape during the one full moon but it had been nothing compared to his rage when he found out that Sirius had almost managed to kill Lucius when the Malfoy scion had come to Sirius under a banner of truce the very night Harry himself was being born to warn of Voldemort targeting the Potters; not that Sirius had known it was Lucius, but that was no excuse either. A banner of truce was sacred and not to be reneged on. Funny how the Gryffindors were flaunted as the true and just people of the wizarding world when Harry found more to despise in them than he did in the Slytherins who were reputed to be Dark Lords and Dark Lord followers in the making.
Calming himself before he allowed his internal emotions to get the best of him Harry strode to the window and launched his lithe body out of it, changing as he went into a black falcon with reddish highlights across the feathers of his powerful wings and a lightening-like slash of gold across his chest. He soared high above the ramparts, reveling in the feeling of freedom as his sharp emerald green eyes scoured the world about him, glowing unnaturally. There was a power behind his eyes, one that unconsciously came to him and even though the falcon was not necessarily a night creature his eyes easily pierced the darkness with an uncanny sight. One powerful sweep of his wings was followed by another and soon he was flying high above everything, soaring off into the night and past the wards surrounding Hogwarts without being detected. An hour or perhaps more passed with nothing on Harry's mind except the joy of flight and his destination that was fast approaching in a blur of warm and welcoming lights. With a well focused thought one of the windows opened for him and he tucked in his massive wings to dive through the opening, his sharp talons uncurling so that he could land on the owl perch inside the room.
For a moment Harry teetered there, the swift force of such a landing unbalancing him before he gave a small hop up and out to enable himself to transform. Harry sighed happily as he looked around himself, a pair of black silken pajama bottoms were already laid out for him in welcome. Gratefully he slipped out of his robe and clothes and pulled on the loose trousers, reveling in the feel of silk against his flesh before he climbed into the turned back bed. The house-elves sure were efficient even when he wasn't expected. He was tempted to tell the others that he had arrived to stay the night but it was late and they would probably have all retired by now. At least they would get a surprise when he joined them the next morning for breakfast; he had a long-standing agreement with the house-elves which ensured that the little creatures wouldn't let the others know when he was here so that he could surprise them, they could be mischievous little buggers when it suited them.
Repost: April 13, 2005