Harry Potter and the Curse of V'ardian

Chapter 4

Of Revelations and Revolutions

Standard Disclaimers Apply

oOoOo

When Harry returned to the Black library to retrieve the book, it was gone. He knew Snape had taken it, though why, he could not say. He was sick of being back here, surrounded by people he didn't want to see, memories he didn't want to remember. That was how he came to be in the attic, staring out the window into the garden beyond.

He had never been out there before, but it was lush and green, a welcome contrast from the darkness of Grimmauld Place. Since that morning, he had avoided the Snape and Dumbledore, though he knew they still waited downstairs, talking. He sat down on an old trunk by the window, but jumped up again when it gave him a sharp shock. He turned and looked at it and realised it was an old school trunk.

Slowly he opened it, wondering if it was Sirius'. Inside was a jumble of long-forgotten robes and school-books, quills and assorted junk. He searched through the randomly placed objects until he found one with a name on it.

It was an old, battered book that looked like a journal. Its cover was a faded crimson hue, its pages yellowed and old. It was blank, and Harry threw it down in disgust. He didn't want to look for old things belonging to Sirius.

It seemed, however, that fate had a different idea. The journal fell to the floor, and its cover flipped open, revealing a scribbled message on the inside. Harry picked it up and read it. It was obviously written by a woman, the inscription smooth and flowing.

To my dear sons, Sirius and Regulus,

For your futures,

With all my love,

Mother.

Could this letter, obviously written with some much caring and tenderness, be from the ugly, bitter old hag whose portrait refused to be moved from the wall in the hall? It seemed even a murderous pureblood like her could love a boy like Sirius. So what was wrong with him?

Harry sadly closed it and put it in his pocket. He would keep this one thing, as proof that people could change, for better or for worse. He would give anything to have received a letter ending with the words 'Love, Mum,' but it could not be so. He looked back out the window, and a movement in the garden below caught his eye. It was a fair way out from the house, just a rustling of the bushes, but it was enough to tell him that there was someone out there.

Making a decision, he hurried down the stairs and to the rear of the house. Making sure nobody was watching, he opened the back door and stepped out into the warm sunshine. The garden was amazing. Huge trees grew plentifully, their canopies joining to form a massive roof far above the garden. Harry realised the house must have been charmed to have a view, as some of the trees were much taller than the house itself.

Underneath the canopy was an oasis of colourful plants, stretching out of sight. Between the trees sprawled many winding, twisting, well-worn paths, snaking out of sight. It was as if it were a dense, solid wall of green, and Harry happily set off, choosing the path in the closest direction to the movement.

Someone must have taken a lot of pride in this garden once, he thought. It was by far the most beautiful thing in Grimmauld Place. A gnome attempted to trip him as he stepped over a tree root and he kicked it. He looked back to see it holding its knobbly head and swaying dizzily. A small flock of small black birds hopped around on the ground picking at seeds, and Harry realised they were the same bird on the Black crest. He bent close to one to watch it, but jumped back in horror when it shot a small jet of flame out of its mouth towards him.

As he moved down the path, he heard the musical tinkle of water and a small stream appeared, meandering through the undergrowth. On one side of the path a deep pool swirled, the water clear enough to see into its sparkling depths. In the centre of the pool, a black rock emerged, and atop it stood the most stunning statue Harry had ever seen. It seemed to be made of diamond, the gleaming facets shining every colour in the single ray of sunlight that pierced the canopy onto it. It was a woman, her hand extended, palm up towards heaven as though offering a sacrifice. In her palm sat a small ball.

It was pleasantly cool under the trees, and Harry continued on, eventually coming to the source of the movement. In a small clearing ahead of him he saw an enormous scarlet flower, its petals spread wide. Even from this distance he could smell its intoxicating scent, and instinctively wanted more. Standing in front of it was a slim girl with long black hair, but Harry couldn't see her face.

He started as she suddenly dropped to the ground, and rushed forward. But as soon as he entered the clearing, a strange thing happened. A simple, melodic tune seemed to fill his ears, and he stopped as though in a trance. Slowly he approached the flower, its fragrance overpowering his other senses.

He started to feel dizzy, and he realised what had made the girl collapse. He began to feel particularly alarmed when the centre of the flower opened up, and a hundred small, feeler-like things stretched out towards him. Fighting off the nostalgic sense of peace that was enveloping him, he grasped the girl around the arms and began tugging her out of the clearing. The way he had come was too far, so he dragged her past the flower and onto another path. Immediately his head began to clear, and he spotted a roughly-hewn wooden bench in a small alcove.

He heaved the girl up onto it and pushed her hair out of the way. He stared at her in shock. She was so familiar- but it couldn't be. There was no way it was possible, he would have known, wouldn't he?

He was dragged from his thought however, as she began to stir. Holding her up with one hand, he tapped her cheek softly and she gave a small moan. Her eyes opened widely and she looked around in alarm before her eyes settled on Harry. Her mouth opened in a silent 'oh,' and she shook her head.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked.

She nodded, leaning against his arm.

"Can I let you go, then?" he asked.

She looked confused, and then noticed what she was doing. Immediately she sprung up, but swayed and sat down again.

"I'm fine, I think," she said, doing a wonderful impression of a stunned mullet. Her expression soon cleared however, and Harry stood back, arms crossed.

"Well?"

"Well what?" she asked, glaring reproachfully at him.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Harry asked. A thankyou would have been nice.

The girl flicked her hair haughtily back over her shoulder and glanced disdainfully at him.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Obviously, if you're sure enough to say it like that. What are you doing here?"

"I'm staying here."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Here? At Grimmauld Place?"

"Yes, obviously," she said impatiently, standing up.

Harry sighed impatiently.

"Well do you have a name, then?"

Please don't say that name! Harry thought silently. Please!

"Katherine Winter, though I don't see why you need to know it."

"It would be polite, seeing as I just saved you from being devoured alive by a man-eating plant, and because you're staying in my God-father's house."

"Well, technically, it's your house now," the girl said.

Harry blinked in surprise.

"What?"

Katherine looked at him incredulously.

"You mean you don't know? No one's told you?"

"Told me what?" Harry asked impatiently.

"It's yours now, everything. It was in that man's will. What was his name? Cyrus Black?"

Sirius," Harry ground out, "It was Sirius."

"Yes, well, apparently he left everything to you."

Harry stared at her in shock. Why had no one told him? Furiously he spun on his heel, forgetting about the girl. She was rude and superior, just like Malfoy. He didn't have time for people like her. And if it was his house, why had no one asked him if she and Snape could stay there?

That was another thing, thought Harry, as he collapsed onto his bed. The similarities were astounding, but it couldn't be right. It was just a coincidence. But it was scary, how much they looked alike. The same black eyes and black hair, the same tall, skinny frame and, Harry sneered, the same offensive, vile manner. Except she had darker skin, and her name was different.

But there was no denying the resemblance between Katherine Winter and Severus Snape.

oOoOo

Dinner that night was stilted and awkward. Dumbledore was not present, so Harry sat at the table across from Snape, waiting for Katherine to arrive. Snape had merely said when Harry arrived that it was the proper manners. Manners, Harry thought, coming from Snape. Snape obviously didn't know they had met, as he felt the need to introduce them when she arrived.

"Potter, this is Katherine Winter. She will be attending Hogwarts in the same year as you."

Harry shot her a look and she responded with a condescending glare. Harry could have sworn he nearly saw Snape smile, but when he turned his gaze on him it was gone.

Snape waved his wand and a few bowls of food appeared on the table. Harry waited until Snape and Katherine had served themselves before getting his own food. He didn't know whether this was out of habit or politeness, though habit seemed the more likely option.

The atmosphere was incredibly tense and depressing, and Snape kept throwing filthy looks at Harry. Eventually Harry got sick of them, and the next time he looked up to see Snape glaring at him, he silently stood up and left the room.

oOoOo

When he returned to his room, Harry found a pile of presents waiting on his bed. he fed Hedwig then sat down in front of them. He felt unwell and the meal had been extremely unsatisfying. The presents gave him no joy; they were the usual things that reminded him of happier times that were no gone.

Only one intrigued him. It didn't say who it was from, and for this reason, Harry was wary of it. It was beautiful, though. It was a crystal ball, inlaid with white gold vines, and Harry shivered at the resemblance they held to his new scar. He held it up to the light, and saw flashed of red and emerald within it. A thin tube ran up the centre, joining up with the vines.

Harry rolled it around in his palm for a moment before wrapping it carefully in an old pair of socks and placing it in his trunk next to the journal. His solitude was interrupted by a curt knock on the door, and Snape entered without waiting for a reply.

"Potter, I have an urgent letter that needs to be sent. I require you owl."

Harry scowled. His lack of manners was irritating.

"She's over there," he said, gesturing to where Hedwig perched, having finished her owl treats.

Snape stalked over and Hedwig hopped obediently onto his arm. In a swirl of black robes and a slamming door, Harry's last friend was gone.

Harry sighed and cleared his bed off. He got up to turn the light off and there was a sudden tapping on the window, one that Harry knew very well. Spinning around, he saw Hedwig flapping outside his window. Hurrying over, he pulled Hedwig into the room just as a furious Snape burst in.

"What do you think you're doing, Potter?" he hissed, storming over to him. He tore the letter off of Hedwig's leg and she gave an indignant hoot, striking out at the irate man.

Snape swore and snatched the letter away, drops of blood forming across his hand. Harry watched, transfixed, as they welled up on his skin and dribbled over the back of his hand. He leaned forward slowly, his arm reaching out. Snape stepped backwards, thinking he was reaching for the letter, and Harry stopped in horror. Had he been about to lick Snape's blood off his hand? He shivered at the thought.

"This is not your letter, Potter!" Snape spat. "Obviously I can rely on you owl no more than I can rely on you!"

Harry glared at Snape as he spun and left the room. He turned to Hedwig.

"It's alright, girl. He's a stupid git, that's all."

oOoOo

Harry's OWL results came the next morning. He was sitting at the kitchen table with Snape and Katherine again when a Hogwarts owl arrived with the three letters. One for him, one for Katherine, and one for Snape. Katherine opened hers immediately, but Snape discarded his onto the table.

He opened the envelope and out fell a bright gold and scarlet badge. He was Quidditch captain. He let a small smile split his face and he caught Katherine looking at him.

His results however, were not so pleasing. It was not the fact that they were bad- they were far from it. He scanned the parchment in mounting disbelief and disappointment. He turned to Snape.

"Sir, do the teachers know yet who got into their classes?" Harry asked hesitantly.

Snape gestured carelessly at his own letter, but the troubled look on Harry's face had obviously caught his attention.

"Who decides you result, sir?"

"The member of the Examination Board to whom you did your tests, obviously. Why do you ask?"

Harry glanced down at his results and silently passed them to Snape, who scanned them. When he spoke, his voice was a deadly whisper.

"All Outstandings, Potter? Can you never do anything on your own?"

Harry stood in anger.

"You think I don't want to? You think I don't want a moment of my life when I can't just be a normal Hogwarts student? I didn't ask for them to give me those marks just because I have a stupid bloody scar on my head!"

Suddenly Harry was angry, angrier than he could ever remember being. He felt a wave of magic and Snape stood up, wand in his hand.

"Control your magic, Potter!" he hissed, "Or I will have to force you to!"

"Then stop patronising me!" Harry hissed. He felt blind to reason, and distantly wondered why he was getting mad so quickly. He felt another wave rush through him, and saw a flicker of fear pass across Snape's face. This, more than anything, brought him back to reality.

He spun around, chest heaving.

"Tell me what happened," Snpae commanded, and Harry turned to face him.

"What do you think happened?" Harry sneered. Snape scowled and transfigured an object on the table. Harry looked down and saw a mirror.

"Pick it up, Potter," he said softly. "See what you look like."

Harry reached a trembling hand out and picked up the simple mirror. His skin was pale and his eyes…his eyes were red. He dropped the mirror on the tale and it smashed. He stumbled back and rushed from the room.

For the first time in a long time, he was scared. Not because Snape had seen, or Katherine, but because of who he had looked like.

He had looked like Voldemort.

oOoOo

A/N: Review, review, review! Thanks :)

Chapter 5: Of Worries and Wheezes