CHAPTER TEN
Albus Dumbledore was intrigued. Confused, but intrigued. After her Defence lesson, Galatea Merrythought had come practically dancing into the staff room, looking as though Yule had come early. Dumbledore had wagered it was because the Riddle boy had exceeded expectations once more, but had been surprised when Galatea had begun singing the praises of Harry Evans in her duelling class. The girl had used some of the most complex array of spells Galatea had ever seen, apparently.
Ever since he had met her, Harry Evans was an enigma that Dumbledore could not help but try to solve. He had tried to track down any evidence of her family in Europe, but so far had come up quite empty. It wasn't too surprising – if Albus could find them, Gellert could as well. Why had Gellert been so determined to catch them? To kill them? No, to kill Harry alone. That scar on her forehead was the tell-tale sign of the girl surviving some of the Darkest magic imaginable.
What could be so important about this girl and her family that Gellert hunted them through Europe, risking his war in the process? Did it have something to do with the Hallows? Had the Evans family known where the others were? It would explain Gellert's obsession and iron determination to catch Harry.
And the ring around Harry Evans' finger – it was glamoured. Albus was sure of it. He had seen traces of a glamouring spell on it himself. It was becoming clear that he needed to talk to Harry Evans soon, and get some answers from her.
The greater good could depend on it. Fortunately, she would be having Transfigurations with him soon.
###############
Harry had a sinking feeling in her stomach as she followed her fellow Slytherins and Artemis to Transfigurations. She had no idea why, but she knew that she was going to have to be extra careful around Dumbledore that day. Harry already knew that this feeling was not to be ignored – after six years of having a teacher who was either trying to kill her or put her life in danger in some other way, Harry had learned never to set aside her gut feeling about teachers ever again. And the alarm bells were ringing like an ominous chorus.
As soon as she set foot in the Transfigurations classroom, Harry placed herself at the back of the room and as far away from the sock-obsessed, twinkle-eyed, purple-and-yellow-robed man as she could manage. Her tension and antsy behaviour was not unnoticed by Orion, Druella, Artemis, Nott and Ophelia who all took up seats near to, next to or in front of Harry, placing as much of a barrier between her and the manipulative donkey at the front of the classroom.
The fact Artemis Potter sat with Harry amongst the snakes got a few raised eyebrows and sneers from her fellow Gryffindors. Dumbledore looked like he was going to insist that Artemis move back to sit with the Gryffindors, but he seemed to decide against it. Artemis herself paid none of them any mind; she was clearly more at home with the Slytherins than with her own lions.
The topic of the lesson that day was the Animagus transformation, and the difference between them and Metamorphogi. Harry had to hide her amusement behind her hand; after all, she did know quite a lot on the subject thanks to Remus and Sirius. Then there was Tonks, who loved to entertain with her shifting abilities. The duck face was still a classic!
As Dumbledore began his usual showdown with Tom Riddle, Harry's mind began to wander onto the Marauders and how they had managed to transform without anyone noticing. They were children – stupid school children. No matter how smart they were, it was simply not possible that they had covered all angles. And to keep their mouths shut for over a month … when everyone knew they were the loudest bunch of all. Something did not add up. Someone of the faculty must have known, and there were only two likely candidates: Dumbledore and McGonagall.
"Miss Evans," the damned grandfatherly tone of the Transfigurations professor knocked her out of her thoughts, "could you tell me the significance of the chant Amato Animo Animato Animagus and why the wand tip has to be placed directly over the heart?"
Harry smiled smally. "Etymologically speaking, the chant roughly translates to 'my love brings me life, I am obliged to become an animal wizard'. Since the heart is at the very centre of being for a human being and is also the symbol of love, the wand has to point directly at it. It is also the focal point of awakening the animal that lurks within the wizard. If the wizard's heart keeps him or her alive, why would it not awaken the animal as well? The chant is also supposed to mirror the smooth transition from animal to human, and back again."
"Very good," Dumbledore's damn twinkle was back. "A very clear, thorough answer. Do you also know what the dangers are of becoming an Animagus?"
Harry snorted. Another easy one: Sirius drunk could never keep his mouth shut. "There is a multitude of things that can go wrong – from swallowing the mandrake leaf to slips of the tongue to missing the electrical storm to the beast's instincts overriding the human instincts of the man, as happened with the Beast of Gévaudan. An Animagus doesn't choose his form; it seems to be part of his or her soul. Magical creatures are an option but those are very rare. So rare that they have practically fallen into myth. Oh, and there is also every chance that the witch or wizard could end up with animal parts in some very awkward places."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Indeed! May I ask how you have become so knowledgeable on the topic? There are not many books on Animagi transformations."
"I had a good teacher." Harry couldn't help but smile. "Uncle Remus gave me a very, very thorough lecture."
"I see. Was he your Transfigurations teacher?"
"Not exactly. Remus taught me Defence, but he caught me and my friends joke about becoming Animagi and spying on Grindelwald." Harry barked out a laugh. "Merlin, I have never seen him that angry. He gave us all an impromptu lesson on the Animagus to stop us from doing anything stupid. Afterwards, we made sure never to joke about it in front of him ever again."
"It sounds as though your uncle was speaking from experience."
Ah, so it finally had begun. The information fishing Harry had been waiting for. Harry saw many of the Slytherins tense and give Dumbledore cold looks.
"He was, sir," Harry confirmed coolly.
Unfortunately, the old codger refused to let it lie. "Was he one himself?"
"No, nor was he a Metamorphagus, though he did marry one."
Dumbledore's face lit up. "I see! Wonderful. But he did have first-hand experience with an Animagus?"
Harry felt her blood boil; she tried everything in her power to keep her eyes from going silver. "Yes, sir."
"Someone in your family? A friend?"
Harry was really sick and tired of that damn twinkle in his eyes by this point. She lifted her eyes to his for once and gave him a look of such ice and malice that Dumbledore physically recoiled. "None of your damn business, sir."
At least the twinkle disappeared in a matter of seconds. Harry scoffed; it was either Dumbledore or McGonagall who had aided and abetted her father and his friends in their dangerous little endeavour – and she was angry. Dumbledore fortunately went back to teaching the class, backing off.
"The nerve of the man," Druella growled.
"He really needs to learn to mind his own business," Orion agreed, shaking his head.
Harry lowered her head. She felt a reassuring squeeze on her arm, but this time it wasn't Orion who had done that. Harry looked up to see Nott giving her a reassuring smile. "Head up, Harry. Do not let the old codger win."
Harry returned his smile genuinely and nodded. "Thank you, Nott."
Nott grinned. "Any time. So who were the Animagi you are clearly protecting?"
"Altair!" Rosier snapped.
Harry exhaled inaudibly. "My father and Uncle Sirius. There was one other, but he was a filthy traitor so I no longer count him."
"What did he do?"
Druella glowered at him. "Nott, enough!"
"He betrayed my parents. He's the reason they are dead," Harry answered in a tone that was almost numb. The hatred she felt for Wormtail was all consuming – she would make sure that the filthy rat would get exactly what was coming to him … again.
Nott at least looked a little guilty for prying this time. The other Slytherins gave him an angry and pointed look. Even Artemis had a hard look in her eye as she looked at Nott.
Harry tried to ignore them for the rest of the lesson, and once the bell rang, she scarpered as quickly as she could from the classroom. Harry had no intention of letting anyone interrogate her further, Dumbledore or Slytherins alike. She wanted to be left alone.
It was almost time for dinner – good, everyone would be heading to the Great Hall. Harry knew which place to avoid then. She headed back to the dungeons and to the Slytherin common room. She still had a statue to de-curse and a strange book collector to talk to. It was better than sitting in tense silence, listening to pureblood elitists around her talking and trying not to hate them outright. Though that was slowly becoming extremely difficult to do.
Harry made herself at home in front of the fireplace again, a fortress of books, sheets of parchment, the statue in the containment cell and her two way journal. Athenaïs once again appeared from the point she had been relaxing in and joined her witch. Finding the silence around her too deafening, Harry took the radio in the corner of the room, which was practically gathering dust, and switched it on and to a music channel. The music of the 1940s was a little too stuffy for Harry's liking but there were one or two magical singers who were pretty decent.
With music on and spells to try, Harry was soon lost in her work.
#############
Tom Riddle was used to solitude; in fact he used to relish his time alone. At the orphanage, there were times he would deliberately vex Mrs. Cole so that she would bring him to the shed at the back of the garden – it gave him time to try and figure out his powers and escape from those idiotic Muggle children he was forced to put up with. Tom loved silence above all else, which was why he loved the library so much.
But when usually boisterous people suddenly mellowed down, that was when he usually got concerned. Tom, at present, was quite concerned. Despite the fact that Avery and Mulciber were talking about Quidditch with Lament and some of the others, as per bloody usual, it wasn't as animated as it usually was. Black and Druella Rosier were speaking in low tones and had moved further away from Tom and his Knights. Heron Lestrange was back to being almost catatonic. Nott would not so subtly look towards the entrance to the Great Hall at regular intervals. Malfoy and Dolohov were focused on dinner.
Tom was under no illusion why the energy around their side of the table was a lot lower than normal. Harry Evans had not shown up for dinner.
The girl was loud, quirky, volatile, unpredictable … all things Tom could not find an easy liking to – in fact, most of those treats irked him more than ninety per cent of the time – but he found that they made Harry Evans that much more interesting. She knew things others didn't – not because she read some very strange or rare books, but because the knowledge either wasn't mainstream, or it was new. Tom had looked into Harry's eyes enough to know that the girl had seen horrors, untold horrors. Countless horrors. Her duelling skills and her ability to fight also testified to this. But Tom could smell a lie, and there were only whiffs of half lies surrounding the Lady Regnant. What those secrets were, Tom was determined to find out.
Harry Evans was a mystery, and Tom loved to unravel mysteries. Plus, she had an undoubted effect on his Knights. Lestrange had never in his years spoken to any girl, let alone sat next to them on his own free will. Avery was growing to like her – in a brotherly way, Tom noted. She annoyed Dolohov and Malfoy, and Mulciber had cracked a rare smile during History of Magic because of Harry's ability to sass. Rosier seemed to be growing a little hostile towards the girl for some reason. It was likely because Nott was undoubtedly growing fond of her.
"Do you think we should ask some of the house elves to bring her some food?" Tom heard Black say to the Rosier girl in a low tone.
"We don't know for sure that she will eat, Orion," the girl wisely pointed out. Rosier's twin always was the one with the brains of the two. "We both know Harry is likely to skip meals if she isn't reminded to eat. We barely managed to get her to stay for pudding yesterday."
"So, why don't we just bring her some dinner?" Black suggested simply. "Knowing Harry, she is likely working on that Gringotts assignment back in the Slytherin common room. Whether she likes it or not, Harry needs to eat."
The Rosier girl began to enthusiastically plate up mashed potatoes, gravy, peas and steak. Heron, who had been privy to the conversation, plated up two slices of treacle tart. Tom had to blink twice to make sure he was not seeing some kind of illusion. Heron really was losing his mind.
Tom would ask him about this strange behaviour later tonight. Then something else happened. As Heron, Druella and Black were about to leave, Black stopped in his tracks and looked at Nott.
"Nott, you coming?" Black asked amicably.
Nott's face lit up embarrassingly quickly and was quick to jump to his feet, much to Rosier's dismay. Tom internally smirked; it seemed like all his labour of the past two years was finally going to pay off – a wedge was finally being driven between Rosier and Nott, and it was all because of a woman.
Usually Tom would find the whole notion disgusting. But something about Harry being the reason for the wedge … just didn't sit right with him. Not at all. True, Tom had never paid attention to any woman before, but Harry … wasn't an average woman. From her duelling techniques to those startling green eyes to that intricate scar.
"Are they seriously delivering dinner to a minor Noble who is unable to get her head out of her work?" Dolohov sneered, knocking Tom out of his thoughts.
"Would you rather she starve?" Avery snapped back.
"She is missing dinner of her own volition, Malum," Malfoy answered smoothly as he elegantly popped his last spoonful of pudding into his mouth.
"That's not a normal thing to do, Abraxas," Avery growled. "Not even Oizys has ever missed dinner, despite being a picky eater."
"We are not her keepers, and Harry has clearly stated she doesn't want babysitters," Rosier replied coolly. "What she does is not our problem."
"Well, yes it is," Tom contradicted with a small smile. "Professor Slughorn has asked us to watch out for her, both the Headmaster and Dumbledore made their positions very clear day one, and I promised Harry we would help her if she needed it. Making sure she eats; that is what Harry needs, even if she won't admit it."
Mulciber barked a laugh. "I know her for less than a week, and I know she will never admit to that!"
"Yeah. She is too stubborn for that," Avery added, sounding rather … fond.
"Are we going to be meeting again tonight, Tom?" Abraxas changed the subject quite quickly.
"Yes," Tom confirmed curtly. "We will fetch Heron from the common room after dinner."
Tom and his Knights ended up leaving the Great Hall soon after the first, second and third years – mostly because Dolohov and Mulciber had insisted on having around four or five helpings of pudding. They got an earful from Abraxas for it; Tom said nothing about it – the appetites of his friends were no consequence to him.
The sight that greeted Tom and the Knights when they entered the Slytherin common room, made them halt in their tracks. There was music playing – that old radio in the corner was never used unless someone wanted to listen to the news, but since it was either on the subject of the Muggle war or Grindelwald, no one did that anymore. The little ones had been getting an awful lot of nightmares and the prefects, and Tom, were tired of having to reassuring distressed children. Nott, Black and Heron were quizzing Harry on different knives while the latter was half paying attention and half eating. Athenaïs was watching them in fascination. The cursed statue was out of its containment prison, which meant that Harry had broken the curse on it.
"Why does the fish knife look so weird? And why do we need a fish knife anyway?"
Nott and Black sighed in exasperation. Druella and Heron chuckled.
Nott threw his hands up in despair. "There is no reason – it just exists!"
Harry scoffed. "Well that is a singularly stupid reason! Any old knife can cut a fish!"
"You are not using a normal dinner knife to cut a fish!"
That earned Nott an eyeroll. "Don't be such a drama queen. It has been working for me so far! My arm hasn't magically dropped off."
"It is not appropriate at a pure-blood dinner, or a banquet with the Minister!"
Harry huffed. "You have to admit that the shape of the fish knife is completely unnecessary. May I go back to my dinner now?"
Nott gave Druella a look of pity. "Good luck trying to get this one to dance properly. She will be stepping on your feet left, right and centre!"
Harry smacked Nott around the head, sending the group into peals of laughter. "You take that back, Nott!"
Avery and Mulciber began chuckling as well; Tom felt his own lips curl up into a smile. "I take it the Siren statue has been stripped off all of its dark enchantments?"
All eyes were on him in an instant. Heron straightened himself immediately while clearing his throat, not daring to look Tom in the eye. Nott gave Tom a curt nod before avoiding his gaze as well. Black and Druella stared him down coolly, while Harry nonchalantly grinned.
"Yep! I am going to send it back to Gringotts soon with a full report. Hopefully I will earn a little more this time."
"Yeah, you're due a haircut," Nott teased.
"Nott, shut up before I use a nightmare hex on you!"
"Oooo, we Blacks have a particularly nasty one you can use!" Orion Black sounded way too excited, in Tom's mind! Who would have thought there indeed was a vindictive streak in Orion Black, along with his childish one? In all the years Tom knew the Black Heir, the boy had to be coerced with sweet confectionaries to do anything diabolical.
"Don't you dare!" Nott was very pale in seconds.
Harry's eyes glinted with mischief. "I might take you up on that, Orion."
Nott blanched further. "You wouldn't!"
"Is that a challenge?" Harry grinned evilly.
"Heron," Tom called gently, somehow a little … sorry … that he was breaking up the little group by the fire. "We need to leave; Slytherin Council meeting tonight."
"OK," Tom frowned slightly. Was there a hint of disappointment in the Lestrange heir's voice? Normally he was more than happy to escape any social situation he was caught up in.
"Awww, but we were going to make hot chocolate! Heron is going to miss out," Orion pouted.
"Hot … chocolate?" Avery repeated, a look of interest in his eyes.
"A Muggle drink – Harry's going to make us some," Druella answered civilly. "Apparently it is actually rather good, and we are interested in trying it."
Rosier, much to everyone's surprise, openly snorted at that. "Come on, sister. It probably has some kind of poison laced into it, or some other horrendous substance."
"It's hot chocolate," Harry said through gritted teeth. "You put cocoa powder into warm milk, and then you drink it. You can choose to put cream on it, if you want. There is no herb or substance in it that is particularly lethal. If there were, there would be more dead Muggles than any grave could hold. I suggest you research before spewing nonsense, Rosier."
Rosier glowered at her, but Harry glared right back, completely unphased.
"Maybe another time. I would love to join you some time." Tom wanted to chuckle at all the surprised expressions on the pure-bloods' faces. And Harry's. Her surprise was the best of all.
"You're more than welcome to," Harry answered, a small smile appearing on her face.
Tom considered that a small personal victory. He knew Harry had issues with trust – no one could approach her from behind, and personal questions made her put up fortifications that would have rivalled the walls of Constantinople – so Tom decided to take it one step at a time. A smile was a sign of growing trust, usually.
On the way to the Come and Go Room, where the Knights had been holding their meetings for the past two, three years, Dolohov voiced his displeasures. "Hot chocolate! How positively vulgar. I expect that kind of behaviour from Nott, but not you! The fact that you would even consider sampling that Muggle filth is disappointing, Heron."
"There is nothing wrong with trying something new," Heron answered coolly.
"It's a Muggle drink!" Mulciber snapped.
"And it also happens to be important to Harry," Heron shot back.
"Important in what way?" Tom wanted to know.
Heron hesitated for a moment. "Whenever things got … bad, Harry, her family and her friends would gather around the fireplace and have hot chocolate. They would play wizards' chess, read, or simply talk. Or listen to music on the radio."
"Which is why music was playing," Avery deduced.
"No. Apparently she hates working in complete silence."
"I see," Tom mused.
"So the hot chocolate is Evans' way of trying to get some semblance of normality?" Abraxas half-sneered. "It … makes sense."
"She should keep it away from us," Rosier muttered.
"My, my, Rosier," Heron sneered – yes, sneered – back, "I didn't know you were so threatened by a harmless drink. Or by an orphan who has been hunted for years by one of the most powerful Dark Lords in history."
Rosier spluttered but could barely find the words to make another retort. Mulciber and Dolohov physically winced; even Abraxas had no idea if he should step in. Avery found it all much more amusing. Tom had no idea whether to be happy that Heron had finally grown a spine, or worried that this outburst was in defence of Harry Evans.
Tom hoped that his lessons would put this subject to one side for now, so he could better prepare for the possibility that Heron Lestrange was also becoming … fond of Harry.
He would not let his Knights fall apart because of an upstart Lady Regnant.
It could not happen.
#########
Grindelwald was having a rather pleasant evening, for once, listening to some Mozart while dealing with some necessary paperwork. Two of his raids against the Resistance to his forces in Europe were a success and two attacks on the Muggles had gone on unnoticed, swept away as another calamity caused by the German army and Stormtroopers. Muggles tearing themselves apart was providing him with some very useful cover. Yes, very useful indeed! Though it had to be said that the Scamanders and their misfit team were still being a pain in the neck!
Grindelwald had just finished reading the last report from his agents in the field when a note appeared on his desk, surrounded by blue lights. He momentarily smirked to himself; his spy at Gringotts had something to report once again it seemed.
Statue de-Cursed. Cursebreaker succeeded.
The Dark Lord couldn't resist barking in laughter. Yet another success for this unknown Cursebreaker. Gellert readily admitted to himself that he wished his own Cursebreakers and Hit Wizards were as effective as this young newcomer.
Maybe it was time to see for himself just how talented this child actually was?
Grindelwald went back to his business, smirking to himself, pondering on what kind of test to give this little prodigy.
###############
Oh boy, two Dark Lords taking a definite interest in Harry – for two very different reasons! Good thing Grindelwald doesn't know who she is, yet. Someone should write to the goblins and do a thorough background check in my opinion.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and stay tuned for the next one!
Kingmaker'sUmbreon
