"Blah" Talking
'Blah' Thinking
"Blah" Parseltongue/Notes/Different languages
Blah Dreams/Flashbacks/Anything and Everything else
Author's Note: Sorry this took me so long, it just wasn't working with me! And then it was summer and I didn't want to do anything. And I also want to note that this and the beginning of chapter twelve were supposed to be one chapter, but I figuredyou guys had waited long enough for an update.
Wormtail was in fear of his life. And for good reason: his Lord was mad… in more ways than one.
"WHAT DID IT SAY?! SAY WHAT IT SAID AGAIN!" Wormtail trembled under his Lord's rage. Since his resurrection, his Lord had been obsessed with the prophecy concerning himself and James' son.
'Do I even have the right to call him James anymore?'
Abruptly, he was thrown into a wall, his Lord's skeletal fingers grasping at his neck, lifting the smaller man off the ground.
"What. Did. It. Say." The words were spat out, and Wormtail could feel his Lord's magic running wild across his skin. He was starting to feel dizzy from lack of oxygen, and he could feel asphyxia creeping up on him.
Suddenly, Wormtail was thrown from his Lord and he hit the ground with a painful thump.
"No... it won't matter, because I have you … I'll get what you need… I'll get what you need… But what if it's right? 'Power to vanquish' can mean many things… yes… but you told me to wait… you told me to wait…"
Wormtail shook as he crawled closer to the door, trying desperately not to sob. His Lord had been doing this recently, talking to himself out loud. It made the rat-like man wonder if his Lord was possessed or simply mad. He wasn't sure which one he would prefer.
He was in front of the door when his Lord started to laugh, great gasping laughter that shook the foundation of Wormtail's soul with fear. His Lord's magic went wild and became an almost tangible force, crushing Wormtail to the ground.
And then it was over. And Wormtail lay gasping for breath on the ground, curling up around himself as the magic sunk into his skin. His fake, silver hand seemed to hum as it melted, ripping some muscles out of place. His Lord laughed as he screamed in pain.
"I find myself lacking some of it." Wormtail gasped and screamed in pain as a spell ripped open his stomach, his intestines spiraling out of his body like vines.
It was the very first day of school and Peter sat all alone in a compartment on the train. He bit his lip as the scenery changed outside the window. What if he never found any friends? At that moment the door slid open and two other boys came into the small compartment. Both were taller then he was and had black hair. One had slightly longer hair than the other, and the other's stuck up at impossible angles. This boy had glasses and a kind look in his eyes, his mouth upturned into a mischievous grin. The other, long haired boy's eyes were stormy, clouded with annoyance, but his mouth was set in a firm smile. As if the smile would make him feel better.
"Hey, I'm James Potter, and this is…"
His Lord laughed, high pitched and wild, as every bone in both arms shattered. Tears stung his eyes as they fell freely, and his throat burned from the never-ending screaming.
Peter stuck close to James throughout the rest of the day, and when the other boy was sorted into Gryffindor, Peter was determined to be sorted into that house as well. The other boy – Sirius Black– had also been sorted there, but that didn't really matter to Peter as much.
The feeling of being forcibly entered brought Wormtail out of the fog of near unconsciousness with a vengeance. His vocal cords had been healed, and as his screaming began anew, the Dark Lord moaned in pleasure.
Sirius brightened considerably when Remus Lupin came down to breakfast; it never failed, even two weeks into school. James always sighed and gave a small laugh as Sirius would immediately get up, grab the small boy, and force him into sitting so close Sirius was practically eating around him.
Eventually, Remus stopped needing to be dragged over, but he did choose to sit a tad bit further away from Sirius.
He screamed and gasped for air as his eyes were ripped out of his sockets. He pleaded and begged for death, not caring that the Dark Lord was laughing that horrible, sobbing, gasping, high-pitched, wild laughter.
It was their last year at Hogwarts, and as Sirius danced with Remus under the Sunlight by the lake, James and Lily talked quietly under a tree, and Peter found that he hated Lily for stealing his James from him. It wasn't like he was in love with James, but damnit, he'd been here first!
"Hey, Lovebirds! We're going to take a picture, come on!" Lily's voice rang out, getting Sirius and Remus' attention. They ran over, Sirius plowing into James with that barking laughter, and Remus chuckling.
James and Sirius had their arms thrown around each others shoulders, Sirius' other arm was around Remus' waist. Peter was in front, James and Remus' hand on his shoulders as Lily took the picture.
He wondered where that picture was and if James would ever forgive him.
The four of them, laughing so hard they were almost crying.
Everything was going down the drain. Dumbledore had sent letters to the members of the Wizengamot, calling for a vote of incompetence against Fudge. The Ministry's necromancer had been killed, as proven by the crumbling rock in Fudge's hand.
The rock had been found in the vaults of the Ministry, tucked away to never be seen. In fairy tales, it was said to resurrect human souls, but in reality it granted a wish from Death. If you wished for someone to return, return they would... just not the way the wisher had wanted. It was much like the Monkey's Paw in that aspect; it granted a wish, but sometimes the results were not expected or liked.
On top of that, his secretary, Dolores, was found dead outside of Hogsmeade, and there was no one he could blame without it blowing up in his face. An owl flew into his office, bearing the crest of the Wizengamot. The envelope was green and functioned somewhat like a Howler, only instead of screaming at you, it enabled the whole Ministry and all of Diagon Alley to hear anything written within it.
He whimpered when it opened.
"We of the Wizengamot have reached a decision concerning the current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Based upon evidence submitted by various persons and affiliations, we find Cornelius Fudge unfit to be Minister of Magic. As such, he will be stripped of his position immediately and forbidden from any job concerning political factions. We of the Wizengamot have also decided that any person or persons placed in Azkaban under the former Minister of Magic will be released and or cleared of all charges. That is all."
Out of the many prisoners in Azkaban, only three were supposed to be let out and cleared, by order of the Wizengamot. However, when a young Auror went to release the three, the Dementors decided to "play a game." This game was called, at least by those who knew it was a game, "What, If Any, Side Should We Participate, In The Event Of Civil War." The opening to this game?
Thirteen escaped prisoners as opposed to three.
HPDM HPDM HPDM HPDM HPDM HPDM
The headlines that morning were insane, hysteria was widespread.
"Mass Break-out From Azkaban; Ten High Security Prisoners Missing!"
"Former Minister's Revenge?"
"Dolores Umbridge Found Dead In Hogsmeade! Harry Potter's Doing?"
"Harry Potter Cripples The Ministry Of Magic!"
"Dementors Missing From Azkaban! Spotted Near Hogwarts; Harry Potter Calling His Army?"
And on and on, the headlines speculated one thing or another. But they all came back to the same conclusion: Harry Potter was to blame for everything. Seamus found himself absolutely disgusted by a large population of Hogwarts. Everyone seemed to be eating this up; no one cared that their gossip had made Harry, Ron, and Hermione leave the Great Hall; no one cared that several of their classmates, including Neville, looked absolutely devastated by the news of the Azkaban break-out; no one even cared that not two minutes before the post came in the Headmaster had told everyone that Lavender Brown was dead. No one cared about much of anything, and it absolutely disgusted Seamus, because he had been just like them yesterday, before this nonsense. No one cared that these events proved Harry right: the Dark Lord was back. And no one cared.
Seamus didn't know what to do. His mother had told him to stay away from Harry, based on the Daily Prophet, but this… this was getting ridiculous. And not just a harmless kind of ridiculous, but a more dangerous kind.
'Harry isn't the type to hold immature grudges. I'll apologize for being an ass, and we'll go from there… now where to find him? Should I just go down to class and hope to see him there? I suppose that's my only hope; thank Merlin we have History of Magic.'
Mondays were usually hell, simply because fifth-year Gryffindors had History of Magic with forth-year Ravenclaws. At the same time, forth-year Gryffindors, and Hermione, had Ancient Ruins with the fifth year Slytherins. Mondays schedules had all sorts of years being shoved together into classes because of the sheer amount of students either behind or ahead due to the Triwizard Tournament.
Thus the reason his seat was next to Looney Lovegood and behind Harry's. Lovegood was reading The Quibbler sideways and writing something absentmindedly on a piece of parchment. Harry looked like he was already taking notes, which was, of course, ridiculous, as he normally slept during this class.
"Oi, Harry." As expected, Harry did not look back, Ron did. Seamus was very used to Ron's overprotective nature towards both Ginny and Harry, so the glare that was given only stung slightly.
"What do you want?"
"I wanted to apologize. To Harry." That got Harry's attention. The smaller boy turned around and the look on his face made a chill go up Seamus' spine. When he was younger he thought the chill was from awe – after all, what eleven year-old can look at someone with that amount of patience? – but now that he was older, he recognized the chill for what it really was: fear. His instincts were telling him to run for the hills, but everything else was saying it was fine; that it's just Harry.
"Well?" The annoyance in Ron's voice jolted him out of his revere. Harry placed a calming hand on Ron's arm and smiled at him. Ron turned around, grumbling.
'What the Hell was that?'
"Well, reading the newspapers this morning… everyone is so blind. I'm not stupid, I know how to read signs… Well, I guess…" Here it was, no turning back. Seamus took a deep breath and looked Harry right in the eye. "I'm sorry, Harry, for the way I've been treating you this year. You were obviously right."
Harry looked at the other boy for a long moment, causing Seamus to squirm, before a smile finally overtook his face.
"Apology accepted. Give me your parchment real quick." Seamus blinked. 'That's... an odd request.' But he handed the parchment over.
Harry drew what looked like a star with his wand over the center of it, whispering "altus" when the star was complete. The parchment glowed briefly and then returned to normal.
"This is a spell I designed," Ron whispered as class started. "It allows two or more people to talk to each other secretly. To an outsider it will look like you're just writing notes about the lesson, no revealing spell works on it, and you'll never need another piece of parchment to finish a conversation. It deletes prior conversations completely, as well. It was a bitch to make." Ron made a disgusted face then, as if he couldn't believe he spent so much time on something like this.
Then it sunk in.
"You designed this? Ron, no one has been able to make something like this, the spell work alone is NEWT level! Spell Masters, for years, have been trying to make something like this, and to think they were outdone by a fifteen year old. Ron, if you got this spell published, your family would still be rich when you're nothing more then a memory!" Seamus whispered frantically. Ron looked decidedly embarrassed, as he turned around to feign paying attention.
The parchment warmed a little under his fingers and when he looked down orange handwriting was appearing. It started from the top right and cascaded down to the left bottom corner.
"Don't embarrass Ronald so much; it isn't good for his health. The Slag-Tarenents might decide he tastes good. – L.L."
Seamus blinked and then realized that "L.L." stood for Luna Lovegood. He slid his eyes to her profile; she was looking forward, staring at a spot in the corner with a dreamy look. He picked up his quill and started to write.
"What are Slag-Tarenents?- S.F." His words were aqua, reminding Seamus of the lake outside Hogwarts. His words, unlike Luna's, were in a semi-straight horizontal line. And even though he hadn't written his initials down, they appeared anyway.
"Slag-Tarenents are half-bird half-rat creatures that feast upon the flesh of embarrassed teenagers. My dad told me about them."Apparently, the spell didn't feel the need to place Luna's initials after her message, which just impressed Seamus more.
'Ron's spell work for this is phenomenal. Flitwick would probably make it his life's mission to ensure Ron became the best master's apprentice, if he knew about this spell!'
"Not to interrupt this fascinating conversation, but I'm calling a short meeting. Seamus and Luna: You are about to be joined by myself, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Draco Malfoy. Seamus: Don't argue with Draco. Draco: Same. –H.G."
Grey words with shadows underneath them appeared slowly and, like Seamus', they looked conventional. This was obviously from Hermione; Seamus could tell because he knew what her handwriting looked like.
"I'm not going to argue with Finnigan, Hermione. I'm not a child. –D.M." Purple words fell from the top right to the bottom left in a lazy procession, stretching as if they could jump right off the page.
"Oh, I could so argue that…–G.W." Black ink flowed from nowhere to form a perfectly centered phrase. After several seconds, Seamus realized that this must be Ginny's message.
"But you're not going to. –H.P." Green text, precise and centered, quickly showed itself on the page, two words per line with the last word centered. Obviously Harry.
"So, what are we talking about, Hermione?" Seamus was curious, and a little wary of discussing anything while Draco Malfoy was listening – well, reading – in.
"I wanted to ask everyone if they are interested in learning a little self-defense from Harry in their free time." Something about the proposal seemed a little odd, and the words seemed skittish, almost like they wanted to be erased for suggesting such a thing.
The responses seemed to come in rapid fire, some appearing at the same time, crisscrossing over each other until it all made sense.
"That seems like a good idea, count me in. Maybe we should involve more people than just us?" Ginny's words were perfectly neat, but something about them seemed…ponderous. Almost as if she was right here in front of him and he could see her tilt her head in thought.
"We're uneven, we should include a Hufflepuff." Luna's orange words looked so much brighter, coming after dark colors. Her phrase touched Malfoy's purple one.
"If we all gang up on Harry, he won't be able to say no. Yes, I realize that you are reading this, Harry, and no, I don't care."
"Great idea, 'Mione! That way we won't be sitting ducks in the face of the War." Ron's statement sent a chill down Seamus' spine. It didn't really seem to hit him until now, that the War was really coming. And Ron was right, the way most of the students at Hogwarts were, everyone was a sitting duck.
"Merlin… I just realized. This school is going to be massacred if You-Know-Who comes; our Defense classes are pathetic! Death Eaters aren't going to stick to the legal spells that we know how to defend against!" Seamus' untidy scrawl seemed just as alarmed as he was.
"I hate you all. But Seamus' example is the one to convince me: This school would be a sitting duck and the perfect target. Fine. I'll "give you extra lessons," but how do you want to do this? Teach you everything you should know up to Seventh Year? Go beyond that? Tell me what to do, oh great planner that is my lovable sister!" It was the most Seamus had seen Harry write, and it looked eloquent and perfect. A bit long, since every two words demanded a new line, but very neat; though the last sentence was a joke Seamus could have done without.
"Harry, you frighten me. Seriously, you go from gloom and doom to professional interest, and then to joking in the span of a few minutes." Ginny's writing seemed just as eloquent, only not quite as amused.
"You almost made Hermione burst out laughing. Have you any idea how mad she would have looked? We're doing one of the semi-difficult equations today, and to have our resident bookworm burst out in hysterical laughter would not have looked good…" Strangely, Malfoy's messages looked messier then Ginny and Harry's.
"Why don't we discuss this at length after classes? That way Fred, George and Neville could be included." Ron's words caused an image of the Weasley Twins levitating everyone upside down to pop up in Seamus' head. He hoped they wouldn't use any of the pranks they'd learned...
"Don't you even care that she's dead, Harry?" Dean Thomas was caught between horror, incredibility, and indifference. The indifference baffled him, but he chalked it up to the fact that he wasn't very fond of said dead person.
"Not particularly, no. I care more about Lavender Brown then I do Dolores Umbridge. Why does this shock you? I wasn't particularly fond of her, Dean." Harry sounded tired; bored of this discussion.
"That sounds horribly cruel." Dean's voice was so small it was almost a whisper, but it carried across the empty, unused classroom they were all in.
Everyone seemed to be scattered around. Ron and Hermione were standing next to Harry, who was sitting on one of the desks. A few feet away, on another desk, Luna and Ginny were toying with each other's hands, pressed so close to each other it looked indecent. Draco and Neville stood by the window and door respectively, looking inward to give everyone their attention. The Weasley Twins were sitting on the ground in-between Malfoy and Neville. Seamus and Dean were across from Ron, Harry, and Hermione; a little Hufflepuff girl named Eleanor was fidgeting in her seat beside Seamus and Dean, almost mirroring them.
"I'm a horribly cruel person." Harry responded in a sharp, quiet voice. A few people snorted. Dean couldn't tell who. Harry smiled his creepy smile, or his scare-the-crap-out-of-anyone smile, as Dean secretly referred to it, before talking again.
"I realize that to some of you, I don't seem like a cruel person at all. And in a sense, those of you that think that are wrong. I can be incredibly cruel if I want to be. I can be a little vindictive bitch, for lack of better term. And, if we go with what Hermione is suggesting, you will all have to realize this fact." Harry's voice always managed to awe Dean; it always sounded so musical, even if he was threatening someone. Over the past five years, Dean had fallen asleep to Ron, Harry, and Hermione's hushed conversations and Harry's voice had never failed to inspire a truly abstract dream that Dean later tried to preserve through art. It was musical.
"And what –"
"Would that –"
"Idea be –"
"Harry dear?"
The twins spoke their perfectly choreographed broken speech, which all blended together into one voice to Dean.
Hermione cleared her voice to get everyone's attention.
"We all know that Harry is… strong. We all know that at the end of the Third Task he faced…"She took a deep breath here, as much for her sake as everyone else's. "Lord Voldemort alone, and yet here he is. Everyone in this room has seen what Harry is like when he is angry; we all know that he could easily best the current Seventh Years and is very good at defending himself. We've all heard the rumors that he was dueling with the Durmstrang students last year and we've all had him help us with our homework at least once." She paused again and looked at Ron who took over the speech.
"Hermione, Harry, and I have been through a hell of a lot of shit these past years, as you all know. However, what none of you know is that Hermione and I would be dead, many times over, if not for Harry's knowledge of magic and defense in general. Hermione's idea is that we all… train… under Harry, learning the different things he can teach us. I can already see the question forming behind everyone's eyes 'What can he teach us that we can't learn ourselves from our books or the older years?' My answer to that: A hell of a lot more. Harry grew up learning advance magic, learning magic that is forgotten now, lost to time and age. He knows so much more then our books and can teach so much better than our books can." He stopped here, swallowing a few times, readying himself for the next part.
"Some of the things we will learn… are considered illegal by our Ministry, but we're heading into a War where our enemy has sunk into our Ministry so far that it no longer cares for its people. Hermione and I are not stupid, and neither are any of you: we all know that if Lord… V-V-Voldemort came here, this school would be screwed. The least we could do is try our best to ensure that not all of us will be running like chickens with our heads cut off when it happens." Ron trailed off, looking at everyone's reactions to his words. Dean could guess what he saw: a strange mix between utter terror and determination.
Harry stood up, using Ron and Hermione to help himself to his feet. He looked… fragile. Skinnier than the two flanking him, and smaller… more fragile; but that image fell away when he spoke.
"Ron and Hermione are making this sound so good, but I do have something to add. I was trained by Vampires, Immortals, experience, and memories. And as such, this isn't going to be easy for you; there will be sessions that you will wish you were dead, or that I was. You will know pain and exhaustion. There will be days -weeks- that you will hate my guts. You will feel useless and frustrated with yourself. You will feel confused and you will learn more then you have in your life. I will not let any of you slack off from your schoolwork; in fact, I will expect it to be near perfect quality. House rivalries will be suspended, and you will get along with each other. I will teach you more then just magic and defense, whether you like it or not. Does everyone understand?"
"That sounds thrilling." Luna's voice carried as she trailed her hand down one of Ginny's arms.
Harry smiled, looking excited for the first time in months.
"We need a name."
Between Quidditch practice, classes and curfew, it was hard to schedule training sessions, as Harry called them. Everyone's schedule was chaotic and subject to change, so Hermione decided to always meet on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. If a session needed to change for any reason, the new date would show up on everyone's charmed parchment.
And thus, their first "session" came up. And with it came rain.
"Well, first off, I want to… get a feel of what your magic is like. So, to do that, I want each of you to hold this ball in your hands and answer my questions as honestly as you can." Harry held up a ball the size of the standard snitch. It was completely made of crystal.
"As I only have one, you will all do this in turns, and while I'm getting a feel for your individual magic, you can all practice the standard disarming spell 'Expelliarmus.' Yes, I realize the majority of you know that and yes I realize it is something taught to first years, but you'll all do it anyway. That way, I don't have to monitor what you're all doing as much. Fred, you're first."
From where everyone was sitting on the dusty ground, George got up and made his way over to Harry, who was sitting in a darker corner. The room they had chosen was deep in the dungeons, beneath the lake and very cool. Shadows danced wherever they pleased, spiraling closer to the light from the chandeliers, before twirling away.
"I said Fred, not you, George." Harry smiled at the red-headed twin, who grinned at him sheepishly. Fred quickly made his way over.
"Perhaps we could do this together?" Fred asked, grabbing his brother's hand. Harry looked between them, considering the option, before he frowned and shook his head.
"No, Fred first. George, go practice the disarming spell, and yes, I will kick you if you decide to goof off."
Hence, everyone decided to listen to Harry and practice the disarming spell. Neville and Eleanor had some problems with it; Dean couldn't say the incantation correctly; and Seamus couldn't actually disarm anyone. The others, who could perform the disarming spell flawlessly, helped the others patiently as they could.
Meanwhile, Harry gave the snitch-sized crystal ball to Fred, who took it with a bewildered look. The ball was cold and felt fragile in between Fred's hands.
"Imagine something that makes you happy. Anything." Harry's words were gentle and his gaze briefly turned to Draco before returning to Fred.
The ball glowed lightly, somehow becoming even colder in his hands, as it flashed through a bunch of different colors before settling on a deep red.
"Set that down, will you?" The ball didn't move, just patiently sat there. "It turned red, meaning your magic is better for defense. Was it cold or hot or in-between?" Fred blinked at the odd question.
"Cold."
Harry nodded, writing something down on a piece of parchment.
"What you are holding is a 'magic crystal' or a device that finds and reads your magical core. Each person has a certain type of magic. It is part of what makes us all unique; whether the type of magic makes a personality or a personality makes a type of magic is up for debate, but in the big picture, it's not that important. Your twin is next. Go help Neville for me, will you?"
Three hours later, Eleanor and Neville finally mastered 'Expelliarmus,' with some help from the twins throwing hexes at them. Harry had everyone categorized by type of magic and what skills could be determined from that reading. He didn't tell anyone what any of their results meant, wanting to wait until their next meeting to explain.
Everyone left feeling exhausted, to the point where they fell asleep before dinner even started.
And being asleep, they were not present when Peter Pettigrew's deformed, bloodless corpse dropped into the Great Hall. They were asleep when the screaming started and they did not hear the Headmaster order everyone to their dorms, and they were not awake when he ordered that no one was to be in the neighboring dorms.