Chapter 5
A/N For Hermione fans - the pain will go away soon. And Harry Potter still belongs to JK Rowling. I am so grateful for the wonderful magic that has been added to my life because of her.
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Persephone wasn't letting go. Cassiopeia looked up from her blankets and smiled at her cousin. Harry reached down, and pushed her wisp of hair back, and kissed her forehead.
"I'll write right away, and I'll eat my vegetables, and start my homework just as soon as I get it. I promise."
Ares brushed aside a tear and grabbed his godson in a fierce hug. "Wish I could go with you, lad. You know that."
"Dogs aren't allowed, Ares. Only cats or toads or owls." Harry whispered in his ear.
Barking laughter and a hand to his hair was Harry's answer.
"Grandfather. Be well." Harry said.
The elderly man couldn't speak. He was sending his heir away to a place controlled by their fiercest enemy. The only way Arcturus wasn't breaking down was potions, and the sure knowledge that Dumbledore would lose his magic if he tried anything else.
Grandfather's and heir's relationship had recovered, and Harry said that he understood. The family wanted an oath from Dumbledore before Harry left, and they did get that. Harry tried not to be nervous.
An older boy, a prefect by the badge, came up, and grandfather palmed some gold to him. Without another word, Hadrian turned and followed the guide to a middle carriage. Golden runes were over the door, and the prefect tapped them once, twice, thrice. They glowed, and Harry smiled. He loved magic.
And Harry Potter had learned a lot over the years. Wanded and wandless. Not all time spent at Bones Manor was playing with Susie and Hannah. Mad-eye had warned him about showing off all of the defense he had learned though. Only in dire need. Having seen memories of Harry's kidnap, Alastor had agreed with Harry that the confundus charms could have meant that Diagon Alley had been put to flames if Hadrian hadn't had such firm control of his powers before he was potioned.
Hadrian walked into the carriage. The room was now appointed more like a formal living room with a small wet bar to one side. The cold-box had butterbeer and snacks, the cupboards had dishes and serving plates. Oh, there it was. The was a small dumb-waiter appearing box that would be used at meal-times. Harry had been fascinated with the switching magic involved in sending hot meals to them while on a moving train.
A pair of older muggleborn witches appeared at the door, curtsying to Harry, explaining that they had been hired to serve him and his friends. While they were alone, Harry kissed their hands, and thanked them for their service. He questioned them about their families, making sure that they were safe. They were touched by his sincere concern. They both were going to go into business, catering as it turned out, when they graduated, using Black startup money. Harry was thrilled, at least partially.
Why were all of the witches that Grandfather helped lovely? I mean, pureblood witches looked like well, Pansy. They weren't always that good looking.
Harry suspected a plot, and he wasn't exactly wrong.
His friends started showing up, and they brought their friends, and soon the entire room was full, with some of the younger ones lounging on the floor.
It was a fun trip. The food provided was fabulous, but what made Harry very happy was that there was no serious fighting, and everyone accepted the extra etiquette books with aplomb if not excitement. His request to help save the wizarding world was old news for most.
Susie and Hannah. No Susan now. She was 11 and a witch and going to Hogwarts, so it was Susan. Her. She and Hannah were happy to help. They viewed Harry himself as a cousin of sorts, but somehow still kept hoping to see the Boy-Who-Lived. Who was clearly NOT the scrawny boy that they had met so long ago. Harry thought it was funny.
At least that muggleborn chap had gotten his magical optometry going. That one had taken a long time. But the Wizengamot ruled for Lord Black on this one. And the shop had finally opened with Harry being his first official customer. With magical lenses on his eyes, Harry was no longer the spitting image of his doll. And the lenses were slowly correcting his vision too.
Finding out that contacts were a new doll accessory bothered him not at all. If witches couldn't be bothered to just remove the glasses from said doll? He would gladly use the gold to help others.
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Neville Longbottom was not a happy wizard. He had gotten his Hogwarts letter, much to his relief, but the legacy wand that his grandmother was forcing on him was worse than useless.
Augusta Longbottom had also refused any invitations to any social functions all summer for fear that Neville would embarrass the family.
His cousin Daphne had stopped by the compartment. She wanted to take him and introduce him to her friend Harry. Neville was not as stupid as his family thought and nearly hyperventelated at the chance to meet the Boy-Who-Lived! The fact seemed to slip from his mind that this was indeed the same boy that had owled him before.
"Neville, calm down! He's just a boy, like you, a wizard. He's nice. He likes to fly, he's good at maths, and terrible at history. Trust me, he'll want to be your friend, if you let him."
Just then, the door opened, and a girl barged in. Daphne hadn't known that Neville had a companion. He didn't react to her entering like that. Her cheeks were flaming, and she looked angry.
Neville asked tentatively "Are you alright, Miss Granger?"
"No! No, I am not alright. This boy sees me in the hallway, and he's just looking at me as though he's waiting for something. Then he finally introduces himself and waits some more. Then he has the audacity to explain to me in simple words as though I'm stupid that he's a Lord's heir, and that I should curtsy to him, and stand aside to let him pass. And then he tries to give me a book on etiquette! Me! As though I was the one with bad manners! Can you believe it?! And then he said something about my parents, and told me that if I was in danger, that there were magical adults willing to help me! My parents are dentists, not barbarians, the nerve!"
Daphne listened to the girl, and thought about everything that had been said at the last gathering.
"I'm sorry that you feel offended Miss Granger, but I think you misunderstand the situation. Heir Belby was trying to help you, truly. There are many muggleborns who find themselves ostracized and without sponsors when they fail to conform to the expected standards."
"Expected standards! That's what I'm talking about! You're treating me like I'm a savage or something!"
Daphne looked at the girl, and knew that if something weren't done soon, she would never have another magical of any social standing ever speak to her.
"Miss Granger, have you ever travelled to a foreign country?" Daphne asked.
"Of course. Unlike some here, I am cultured, well travelled. And I speak three languages, too! And I'm learning Latin as well! And my name is Hermione!"
"That is just one lesson that is in the book. Unless asked, no one will use your first name, Hermione. My name is Daphne, and I invite you to use it as well."
Hermione just huffed, but Daphne continued.
"When travelling, did you ever see people doing everyday things differently? Perhaps a man standing when a lady came in the room, or men holding open doors for a lady, that sort of thing."
"Yes, of course! Every country has unique customs! It's part of the fun, learning about them."
"Then why are you dead set against learning the customs of this new country? For the wizarding world is in effect a new country for you. With different clothes, different manners, different expected behaviors."
"But it's so backwards! Why should I act like people did 100 years ago?"
Neville had sat quietly, and listened to his cousin talk. He had to try to help, though. "Because Miss Granger, if you do not conform, you will be shunned. Believe me, being shunned is not fun. Wizards and witches shun squibs, you know what that means, yes?"
Hermione nodded, her cheeks still red, her eyes flashing in anger.
"I've been shunned most of my life as I did not do accidental magic. Daphne has been one of my few friends. Harry Potter is another. He wrote to me faithfully. I have not been allowed to meet him yet, my grandmother forbids it, but we are still friends. And I would do anything, even if it means following uncomfortable customs in order to never be shunned again."
"Well, that just proves my point. You people are barbaric!"
Daphne sighed. At least she had tried, and she never lost her temper. She turned back to her cousin. "I doubt Harry will be able to get away as he is surrounded right now, and sent me as his emissary. He does want to meet you in person."
Neville smiled at her. "Thanks Daphne. Maybe I'll stop in for a butterbeer in a little while. Harry did write and invite me, but I was nervous about meeting him in person. I'm going to try to talk with Miss Granger for a bit."
"IT'S HERMIONE!" she exploded rudely.
Neville just smiled at her. "Why thank you Hermione for giving me such gracious permission to use your name. Please, call me Neville."
Hermione turned away from both magicals, and pointedly opened a book and began reading. Daphne waved goodbye, and Neville followed her out.
"I'll keep trying, but wait until she's calm." Neville said very quietly.
"Please do. I suspect that she's very bright. Dentists are a form of muggle healer, and are likely wealthy. She's probably had a good education to this point. Well, for the muggle world."
They nodded to each other, and Neville stepped back in.
"Oh no! Where's Trevor?"
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The sorting was going well. No surprise that Susie and Hannah went to Hufflepuff. With Amelia Bones and both Abbott parents, along with several aurors and auror trainees all being 'Puffs it was a given.
Neville surprised Harry. Their letters had indicated that the boy was desperate for Gryffindor, but here he was, sorted to Hufflepuff. Huh. Maybe his pep talk on being true to himself, and talking about how good Sprout supposedly was at plants helped.
Harry thought he would be much happier in Hufflepuff than in the house of the loud and obnoxious.
The Paracelsus articles had been well-received, and more than a few healers had come forward and said that they used parselmagic to restore limbs and do procedures that couldn't be done without it. That they were all originally from India was rather glossed over, as they were British now.
No surprise that Draco went to Slytherin. Lucius had actually threatened the boy if he went to Gryffindor. Hadrian was grateful Grandfather's scowl wasn't aimed at him! At least if Hadrian got the house he wanted, he knew that Ares would accept it. But he wanted Grandfather to be proud of him.
It was Harry's turn.
A hat, a stinky, dirty, crumbled hat. Harry was going to prank Ares back. Something big. 'Don't worry lad, at least it isn't a big troll you have to fight.' All that work and research. And he faced a hat.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here? Magical strength, heir to more than one house, and a thirst to prove yourself. You have courage too."
'But I try to plan in advance, and not just leap into things!' His grandfather had warned him about Gryffindor. He would have to share a dorm room, have to hunt to find a quiet place to study. Absolutely no potion practice rooms or any other kind of help would be offered. Professor Snape would become an instant enemy instead of ally. Again, No Thanks!
"That is more your godfather's modus operandi and no, I will not out him, as it were. Sirius Black is dead, and will stay so for all of me. Now, I think that you could do well in Gryffindor."
"Please, not the house of unwashed barbarians!"
"No, then better be..."
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A white owl fluttered down to Harry at the breakfast table.
Pansy reached out to stroke her feathers, but the owl skittered away.
"She's beautiful, Potter." Draco said, still amused and annoyed that Pansy had switched targets.
"Cousin, I formally give you leave to use my first name. Please, it's Harry." This was said as he attached the letter home. He knew Grandfather would be pleased.
Ares, not so much.
Near them, a bushy haired girl huffed loudly. "Giving your cousin permission, rather formal permission to use your first name. How ... quaint."
Draco had to stick his foot in. "No one asked you, Griffy. Bushy-hair, huge teeth, and I can smell you from here. You're nothing but a mud..."
Harry waved his hand. Draco's mouth moved but no sounds came out.
"Just trying to make sure that no one of House Black earns the first detention of the year. My apologies for using magic without your permission, cousin."
Draco nodded, realising that the bad word could have been punished here. Together, they turned their backs, and no matter what the girl said, no one from Slytherin responded to her for the rest of the day.
It just seemed to make her madder.
She wasn't the only one angry. Albus Dumbledore had fumed that Harry had been sorted into the house of snakes.
House-elves, the best spies in the world, had reported to Harry about Dumbedore's private meltdown in his office, arguing with the Hat that had caused all of the problems.
The spirit of Hogwarts rescued the beleaguered artifact by sending in reinforcements. Peeves the Poltergeist, for the first time in over 50 years, managed to breach the wards on the Headmaster's office, and attacked.
The target, the supply of lemon drops.
After that, the Hat went to sleep, the Headmaster reinforced the wards to his office (verbally, much to Harry's delight), and that was the end of that. For now at least.
Harry wasn't surprised to see the beautiful owl there. She was, after all, a gift from Hagrid for him. And he knew that she was innocent in the game, just doing as she was supposed to do. Deliver his letter first to the Headmaster, and then on to the original recipient, as long as nothing too bad was in the letter. He admired the magical work involved. Clever training that.
Harry shook his head. Did the man really think he was this naive? This ignorant? That bonding to the animal wouldn't inform him of her remit? A copy of the decoy letter, and his real letter had been sent with Draco's elf Dobby. Dobby worshipped Harry in a highly vocal way, which always made him a little nervous, but so far, he had proven reliable.
All of Britain's house-elves worshipped Harry Potter, he just didn't know that yet.
Harry was looking forward to the response of Draco's and Harry's letters.
The Headmaster had warned of a corridor to be avoided at all costs. Something about an untimely death? Harry had zoned out a little, the warmth of the hall, the heavy food, the long journey, and he had been sleepy.
Grandfather Black would be very interested in something that could cause death in a school.
While waiting though, they had classes. Harry referred to a piece of parchment as he was heading to transfiguration. Unlike some of the Hufflepuffs, their group managed to find the class in good time, and Harry sat three rows back. Not the very front, and certainly not the back.
Justin Finch-Fletchly came in and gave little bows to several Slytherins, before giving Harry a deeper one.
"Greetings Mr. Finch-Fletchly, I wish you a good morning." Harry responded.
"Thank you Heir Potter-Black. Please, if you would like, call me Justin."
"Thank you, Justin. I'm Harry."
The door slammed closed at the top of the hour, startling students. Harry invited Justin to sit with him, and the tall lad immediately did so.
The introduction was long and boring, but the work was fascinating. Justin was trying, but not making any progress.
"Wand movements are very important, Justin. You see, you are basically doing runes in the air, and charging them all at the same time. You need to feel your magic doing the charging, or it won't work. So concentrate, careful movements, say the prayer, rather incantation, and..."
Harry demonstrated what he meant in a smooth motion. There was a lovely needle sitting on the desk.
Justin nodded, and moved to do the same. Soon, there was another needle. Perhaps not as pointy, and the eye was solid, but a very good beginning.
"Your father had a tremendous talent in Transfiguration as well, Mr. Potter. Take 10 points for Sytherin, and another 10 for teaching so well. Ten points for Hufflepuff as well. Good job, you two."
Harry noticed Neville sitting next to Daphne, struggling with that lousy wand. He wrote a quick note to Professor McGonagall. She was unhappily serving as deputy, as another person had yet to be hired, so she was the right person to ask.
Daphne was struggling herself, and Harry wanted to help, but decided to wait until they could be in private.
The best class of the week as far as Harry was concerned was going to be flying class, and he was really looking forward to it. Well, he was, until he saw the horrible, horrible brooms on display.
"Madam Hooch, I respectfully decline to participate in this class. I do not feel safe, and would rather not fly on kindling."
The professor pursed her lips. This was the Slytherin/Gryffindor class, and it certainly looked as though someone was trying to kill off some of the heirs of the wizarding elite.
"Scared, Potter? Muggles don't use brooms, do they?" A red-headed boy taunted before the professor's glare had him clapping a hand over his mouth.
Hadrian turned the professor and raised his hand. At her nod, he answered. His grandfather had instructed him to be nice to all of the Weasley's at the castle.
"Yes, Mr. Weasley I am. I have never seen much less flown on such a poor broom. As far as I know, muggles do not use flying brooms. Rather, muggle brooms are used in some sort of manual labor. I would be happy to meet with you later, cousin, and properly introduce ourselves. Perhaps meet in the library after dinner?" His tone was respectful.
"Make friends with a snake? Never! And we're not…"
Hooch glared at his tone. "Twenty points from Gryffindor. You were warned." She turned back to the sable-haired boy. "Heir Potter, your concerns are noted. In my defense, I have been begging the Board for new brooms for a decade since coming to staff. These are definitely the worst of the lot that we have."
She waved her wand, and a half-dozen chairs were created under a nearby tree. "Anyone else feeling unsafe may sit out excused from class."
Harry bowed to the professor, to the huff of the shunned one, and moved over to a chair.
Harry pulled out parchment from his satchel, and began a letter to his grandfather. He pulled a memory strand of the condition of the brooms, and included that as well.
Crystal vials could hold more than potions.
Draco was looking at the brooms in disgust and took a seat next to Harry.
"Nothing like your Nimbus, huh?" he asked.
"Shhh!" Harry warned, but he was too late. Hooch was on him in a second.
"You have your own Nimbus 2000? How does it bank? Does it really pull to the left at high speed, or was that just whining..."
Harry held up a hand, and the women stopped her verbal barrage.
"Yes, perfectly, not that I have noticed, so yes I do think so. And before you ask, I would love for you to fly it. Next year, first years are not allowed to bring their own here, after all."
"Oh, Heir Potter! I'm sure an exception could be made for you. Your father had so much talent! He could have gone professional, you know."
"Thank you, Madam, but unless all first years are allowed, I cannot in good conscious send for my broom. It just wouldn't be fair."
Hermione raised her hand. She just had to say something, but the teacher acted as though she didn't see her, something that had been happening all week!
"Well, I will certainly petition the board again. I would love to see you fly something decent."
She got a funny look, and then waved her wand. Seven Cleansweeps flew out of a locker.
"I just remembered these. We don't have enough for everyone in a class, but you students can take turns. Heir Potter, your father donated these to the Gryffindor team his seventh year. Your grandfather, his father had just passed away, and wanted to use some of his inheritance for the good of the school."
Harry looked thunderstruck.
"Do you have a broom catalog ma'am, or know what the best beginning broom is?"
While Madam Hooch instructed her first group of seven, Harry wrote a letter. The white owl, Hermes, pronounced like the scarf, just showed up.
"Quick as you can girl. There's a bonus if they arrive before the end of class." Since the note was going to a shop, she wouldn't have an interrupt of her flight.
The flying instructor never noticed, but very soon, there was a small group of wizards bearing cases bearing down on the pitch.
"Mister Potter, do you have something to do with this?" Madam Hooch demanded.
"Likely, ma'am. I apologize for not asking permission..."
She waved that away, and started drooling.
Those were broom cases.
Her hawk eyes turned to Harry Potter, and suddenly he felt like he was prey. It was an odd feeling. Fortunately, it passed quickly.
'Too bad he's so young. Kissing James had been one of the best kisses in my life, even if he didn't expect it.'
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Hermione Granger was miserable. It was the end of the first week of class, and absolutely no one would talk to her.
She tried to complain to one of her roommates. Parvati? Maybe.
"I didn't give you leave to address so informally, and after your display all week of your appalling manners, I will likely never do so. You were warned. Repeatedly. We barbarians don't put up with muggle ways."
The tone had been even, but was said as though she didn't expect her to understand. And she didn't! Couldn't they see how backwards everything was?! And they were treating her so rudely!
Hermione had tried going to her head of house about it all. She was handed a book to read. A book on manners of all things! It was the same book that Professor McGonagall had tried to encourage her to buy when the group of muggleborns went shopping. She was the one who was the victim here!
She pushed the book into her bag, and left with a huff.
She had had a hard time making friends in primary too. She thought things would be different here.
Maybe she should try talking to the person the person that seemed to be in charge, in charge of at least their year.
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Harry Potter was happily working in the library at a table filled with books and friends. Justin and Susan were on one side, Neville at the one end, Daphne next to him, and a spare chair at the other.
Those in the know knew that they could come and ask questions by coming up, being recognized, and taking a seat after invitation.
The Potter heir was about to make a note in the book in front of him when the bushy-haired girl approached.
"You can't write in library books!" She hissed. And then she literally face-palmed, and tried again. "What I meant to say was that I don't think you meant to write in a library book. I was trying to stop you from making a mistake."
Harry looked up at her. She looked red-eyed and had dark rings under her eyes. With a quick look to his friends, they all got up except Daphne.
"We'll just continue the Herbology research. We'll be right back." Susan said, guiding Justin to a table behind the stacks.
"Please have a seat Miss Granger, and tell me why you are here. And just for your information, while the library does have several copies of this book, this is my own personal copy. I have given myself permission to write in it."
Hermione sat in the offered chair, and waited while Harry made his note. She admired his writing. It was neat and tidy, and done without redipping his quill in the ink. But how?
"I assume you have had a difficult week, Miss Granger," Harry stated. "And you have come to me, perhaps for help? Advice?"
She nodded, and spoke carefully. "I do not feel that I am doing anything wrong by being true to myself. But other people are treating me as a pariah. I don't like it. I've read many books about you, you're a hero. I hoped to be in the same House as you, you know. Dumbledore was a Gryffindor too."
Harry didn't have the same upper class snort that his godfather had, but it wasn't too poor an imitation.
"I would check your assumptions Miss Granger. Let me tell you a story, a true one, about a little baby left on a muggle doorstep even though he was a proven mage. Left with magic-knowing, magic-hating muggles. Left there to be starved, abused. Left there alone, without help, with wards blocking his house-elves or anyone else from finding him."
"House-elves? I've read about those, they're magical slaves!" Hermione put her hand over her mouth, "My apologies, Mr. Potter, please continue."
"My proper title is Heir Black, Heir Potter, or Heir Potter-Black. The teachers here get away with calling me mister, but I digress."
He stared at her for a moment, willing her to hear. "The child wasn't rescued from these muggles until he was six. He had disappeared from their home, and when authorities were sent to investigate his kidnapping, the muggles had not notified anyone about a child in their home that was missing. Not even three days later!"
"Wait, a six-year old somehow ran away from the muggles, and they said nothing?" The girl asked, making notes on the story. "I'm quite sure that is a crime, if they had been raising him."
"It was indeed. But the worse crime was the wizard who had arranged for this torture of the child. The wizard who wanted the baby to be raised to be humble, submissive, eager to please. Can you guess who the wizard was that abandoned the child to such a fate?"
Hermione was totally engrossed. It was a different kind of fairy tale, a powerful wizard sent away from the wizarding world to the land of awful muggles. Who would be the evil villain here.
"I don't know. Was it You-know-Who?"
Harry did a repeat of the snort. "No. More evil than that. The dark lord who called himself Voldemort was really Tom Marvolo Riddle, and his name is an anagram. He just tortured and killed people right away."
Hermione made notes, but didn't interrupt. She would be testing that later.
"Even more evil than that?"
"He has a vision of what the Wizarding World should be. Oh so muggle, with us being friends with muggles, celebrating their holidays, sharing their culture. He wants to destroy the magical world. Eventually reveal us to the world - destroy the Statute of Secrecy. And he thought he could help his cause by making a prophesied savior into a muggle."
Hermione nodded. She understood now that there was an undercurrent in the school. Those pro-muggle, those against. The pureblood elite was obviously against, so who was so pro-muggle?
"Headmaster Dumbledore?" Hermione guessed. "But he's good! He wouldn't allow muggles to hurt a child!"
Harry knew the approach was coming, and debated the response. He pulled out a five year old picture, a wizarding picture. He wasn't sure why he had kept it. It was taken by the healers, he was dressed only in pants, showing his skeletal form, showing the scars on his back and legs as he slowly rotated for the abuse documentation.
"This is a picture, Miss Granger. A picture of me. I know what the man tried to do to me. He's tried to kidnap me twice to get me under his control. Once as a baby, once just before school. He wants to destroy the magical world, and destroy a mage who is already as nearly powerful as him."
He didn't mention that his magical power was still growing.
"But it's wrong to shun people!" The huff was back.
"Miss Granger, you are acting like my enemy. You seem to want my world to change. You want magicals to act like muggles, you want my culture to be destroyed, and replaced with the muggle culture. You want to destroy everything that matters to me, and yet what? You want me to act as a friend?"
He stared at her, trying to get her to understand.
"I have not aimed any magical attacks at you, I have not tried to kill you or hurt you, Miss Granger. I have not used spells or potions to control you. You and people like you are dangerous. So I remove myself from you as much as I can. What would you have me do? I'm not a Dark Lord who goes around killing those who don't agree with him, or fit his model of who is acceptable. He would kill you just because of your parents. I know that every drop of magical blood is precious. And you being such a strong witch makes you even more important. But I will not use magical means to force anyone to my point of view, nor will I raise my wand against said enemy. Do you understand?"
"What must I do to get people to talk to me again?" She asked in a quiet voice.
"Are you willing to follow cultural mores, even if you don't agree with them?" Harry asked, his eyes bored into her very soul.
She thought about what he was demanding. Had she been the one in the wrong? She was being asked to act like a magical person while in the magical world. Was that wrong? Hadn't she covered her hair when they visited Egypt? Hadn't she followed other cultural norms to fit in in other places?
"Heir Potter, I have acted poorly. I see this now. I will read the etiquette book, and try my best to follow the cultural rules of this world." Hermione had said this with head bowed, defeated.
"Miss Granger, I think that you will find that while you feel that you have lost at the moment, that by surrendering, you will gain something precious. Can you please wait here for a minute?"
Harry got up, and went to get his friends. He introduced them all around, and Hermione gasped when introduced to Justin.
"But I've met you before! At the Queen's tea this last summer!" Hermione gasped, worried she had made another faux-pas.
"Yes, I remember now. Your uncle is an Earl, right?" Justin smiled at her in reassurance.
"My father's older brother." Hermione smiled back.
"You are invited to join us Miss Granger. We are researching the ingredients for the next potion. By doing this, we will be ready for Professor Snape's verbal quiz, and can earn points for our house."
"I would be happy to join you. I have a book in my room that I can show you later..." She started to offer.
They all pulled out one of the standard potion supplements, and she nodded.
"It's not horrible, and nothing is terribly incorrect, it's just a little dry and narrow." Susan said helpfully.
"Thank you Miss Bones. I'll order one of the other books right away. I picked up several catalogs when shopping." Hermione said gratefully.
"When we are here in private, I give you leave to call me Susan, Miss Granger."
"Hermione, please. And that goes for everyone here."
A quiet murmur went through the group as everyone gave the same permissions. Harry nodded to the girl and gave her a shy smile.
And the first years got down to work.
-00-00-00-
"Albus, have you had a chance to look at Mr. Longbottom's wand?" Minerva said. She'd written to the boy's guardian asking permission to take him to Ollivanders. Regent Longbottom had replied that the Deputy could take him anywhere anytime. If she wanted him to stay at the castle over Yule and the summer that was fine too. But she wasn't paying for a wand for a squib like Neville.
And she called the boy useless!
Minerva remembered Neville's parents fondly. No one deserved their fate.
"Yes, yes I did."
"Well then, I'll be taking the boy to Ollivander's after breakfast, and turning in the one he has." She declared.
"Whatever for my dear? It's perfectly good!" Dumbedore declared. "No, no. We have other matters to attend to."
The deputy resignedly sighed. She'd told Ollivander she was coming. She'd sent him a note later.
But the man was a mage, and could see magic.
If the wand was working properly, he would know.
-00-00-00-
Harry smirked when he thought about Grandfather's solution to the 'corridor of death'. The man was the definition of clever! Hadrian rubbed his heart. It physically hurt to be away from his family like this. He missed everyone, but especially his grandfather so much.
He felt that the man had saved his life.
His letters from Ares and Persephone were full of fun, and updates on the baby. They promised more pictures soon. Harry missed his godfather so much too. Together, they had made the Marauder's map he was using. Too bad his father's cloak was destroyed. Harry had been told that many things had been ruined the terrible night he lost his parents.
Classes were all going well. There were rumors of the new caretaker, but Harry knew which ones were true and which ones were blatantly false. He was not surprised to get an invite to go to the caretaker's home with Hermione Granger. What did surprise him was the inclusion of Ronald Weasley.
The boy seemed to be prejudiced against all things snakelike. Maybe he was coming around.
Now, Harry personally held no feelings one way or the other for the boy. Mr. Weasley was clearly disliked by the Slytherin head of house, but that was more due to the boy's obvious lack of classroom preparation.
Professor Snape was never going to put up with tardiness, laziness, or carelessness. Especially when it came to potentially combustible material.
Hadrian debated accepting the invitation, and decided to follow his grandfather's advice - never go anywhere without telling someone he trusted.
And Harry trusted Professor Snape.
"Come in, Mr. Potter." Came the invite before Harry could knock.
He looked all around the door, but couldn't see the runes. Maybe he could ask the Professor another time. He was like a goblin. He detested people who wasted his time.
Harry walked over to the door where the teacher was grading papers. He handed over the invitation.
"I don't wish to be rude to a staff member, sir, but I have never met this man before, at least that I remember. However, I have heard my grandfather say his name when going through family pictures. What do you think I should do?"
The professor threw his quill down in disgust. "So that's who the headmaster has hired to replace Hagrid until All Hallow's Eve? Or perhaps a bit after, depending on how long it takes the oaf to recover from Azkaban?"
"I still feel that his incarceration is injust, sir. He did nothing more or less than instructed. And giving a child a snack, or bringing him here even, under such circumstances. He has three years at most of schooling, and no wand. How did he cast compulsions? No, he may have taken the blame, but I know he wasn't the one responsible." Harry thought to himself 'I can break out of Mad-eye's compulsions - it had to be an adult mage that cast spells strong enough to hold me in thrall.' But he thought it sounded arrogant to say so.
Severus Snape looked deep into the eyes of the child, and saw for a moment his lost love. She too would have been incensed at the situation.
"I feel I should warn you, Mr. Potter. Remus Lupin is dangerous in more ways than one. He loved to develop clever pranks - pranks that your father and his friends would then employ. I will not have any of my Snakes running amok in the school. I will not allow them to bully others in such a way. Am I perfectly clear?"
"Crystal, sir. My grandfather tells the story of Sirius Black doing so, hurting others, even trying to hurt people with a monster. He says that he deserved to go to Azkaban just for that, even if he didn't suffer the appropriate consequences in school. As for my father, I don't know what to say. I can formally apologize on the part of House Potter, but that seems like, I don't know, too little, too late. I too promise that I have no intention on 'running amok' as you say. My grandfather can be very inventive with punishments, and I don't mean a howler. It's just that if Mr. Lupin was in Gryffindor at that time, he might be able to tell me more about my mother. I know very little of her, sir." He wanted to say something about the Professor grieving for his mother, but it was too personal. Too sad. Harry wanted the Professor to talk about Harry's mother when he was ready.
Snape's eyes bored into Harry's a second time, but Harry was protected by his House ring, along with his own developing mind talents. Without glasses, the boy was clearly Lily Evans' child. The chin and ears were hers, as well as the emerald eyes. The hook-nosed man sighed, and made a choice.
"I knew your mother when we were children. Come to my office Sunday after lunch. I will show you a few pictures, and tell you a few stories."
Harry looked up at him as though he had just offered him the greatest treasure ever. Which to Harry, it was.
"Again, I warn you. I want no second generation Marauders in my House."
"I solemnly swear." Harry said.
And didn't finish the phrase until well out of ear-shot of his head of house.
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