Something that had really bugged Turias was every single proclamation of his death by one Professor Trelawney had happened to him. Even the one about dying due to stubbing his toe had come to pass. He hadn't necessarily had to have moved on after the deaths, as what he was allowed a little leeway in the mortal realm, but they still happened. He figured it was Fate's way of playing to her favourites, even as terrible as they were. He could also imagine a personified Death giving a personified Fate the finger by allowing him to come back to life in the same body after each incident.
Honestly, what Seer would be mean enough to pronounce that someone would die by way of stubbing their toe?
Or, worse, was the one she had gotten eerily right about being poisoned to death by his lover. At one point he had written all of the deaths the surprisingly true Seer had proclaimed, that he had managed to remember. He still had a few left over, and a few violent ones at that. Turias wondered what one would happen to him first, if any, that incarnation.
The thought of his rather odd thousand ways to die were broken by the slight movement of the boy he was comforting. The boy was Harry himself, and one that was still plagued by the night terrors with a slightly nicer name of memories. Of course, they had faded over time in their frequency, due to the techniques that Turias had worked to teach the boy. It was also by way of the simple effect of having the feeling of being safer in the old castle, and with Turias there.
Taking the small movement as a small blessing, Turias had shifted his arm to be in a better position than it was. They were in the Apprentice rooms, as they had been cleaned out after the first week of school. They were decorated the way Turias knew they would be, and they looked like the third time he had left them in. That was probably because he had been the last person to be in the rooms, the third time he had been an incarnation appointed to the responsibility of Apprentice of Hogwarts, though not necessarily the last time he had been an Apprentice.
Speaking of, it was about time that Harry and he were to review the point system for the last term. As apprentices, they were to help the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress review the decisions made by the prefects, and teachers concerning the discipline of the students. He would write them for an appointment – though he doubted that they expected them to take on that responsibility so early in their time at Hogwarts.
At that moment, he was content to offer Harry comfort by way of physical contact so that the poor boy could get some sound sleep. It was very late at night, and Turias was holding Harry to his chest, while said boy was clinging to his arm very tightly to his own chest. Harry had dozed off not long ago, having been brave enough to crawl into Turias' bed this time and no longer shy about his nightmares with Turias. For this, Turias was thankful.
Turias was gladdened by the fact that the rest of the school year passed by without incident, and fairly quickly. The students were surprised by the sudden appearance of the famous Nicholas Flamel to teach one of their classes, but no less happy about it.
The classes, according to the general student body, was significantly more enjoyable compared to what it was before the disappearance of the previous defence professor. Potions were no longer something to fear, while the defense class was actually valuable to their education. The bat of the dungeons was significantly less dour, mixed with a more healthy-looking visage due to the lack of constant fumes. History became significantly more interesting due to the fact that a six-hundred-plus year-old woman had replaced a dead man for the history professor.
It had taken some convincing, but eventually the ghost of Binns had conceded the point of a woman that had more years of experience in the living world.
Something else that had gone considerably well was how the Flamels had sat down with Harry with Turias along, and had a talk with him. During that conversation they had broached the subject of if he would like it if his guardians changed from his relatives to them. Harry had only looked to Turias for guidance before he had excitedly agreed. The paperwork surprisingly, for a bureaucracy, did not take very long to get through and sorted out.
In fact, by the time the summer holidays came, Harry needed only to sign his name on the paper, and for it to be filed. Harry encountered a roadblock when this happened, though, as he thought it proper to take the name of his new adoptive parents, but he didn't want to insult those that gave their life to protect him by ditching their name.
Turias had just suggested to take both names via a hyphenated last name. Harry loved the idea.
So, it was a very nervous Harry Potter that was preparing to board the Hogwarts Express, and then off to where the Flamels lived at the end of the year. He still didn't know where their house was, as they couldn't find a private enough place to inform him. Walls had ears, they said.
Sometimes literally, as with Hogwarts there was a hallway that had ears sprouted from its walls. What struck Harry as odd, was that such matters were seen as normal in the wizarding world.
Either way, Harry was just intensely happy that he had been saved from the originally ever-present monsters that were in his life, that had skillfully masqueraded as nominal beings when they had in fact been the worst that humanity had to offer.
Without much fanfare, both Harry and Turias completed their exams for the end of the year, though for the muggle subjects they were significantly lacking an examiner. Back in the founder's time, the then-muggle subjects were taught in Hogwarts. However, that was more of a necessity of a school than anything else, since most of the population didn't know how to hold a quill let-alone take notes during a lecture. Part of the reason why modern Hogwarts classes didn't offer English and Fencing among other classes was the general level of education before they reached Hogwarts was already at a minimum level of acceptable. The other reason why it wasn't continued when the mundane world progressed further in their understanding of mundane topics was an increase in a superiority complex in the average magical and a general falling-out during the witch hunts.
Turias assumed that Dumbledore wanted them to continue into more modern muggle subjects, but didn't want to rock the boat more than the political tide already had, so glossed over that fact with a mention of 'traditional' subjects. Turias thought Dumbledore had only really held back because Turias was a member of one of the 'Darker' families. It was intelligent of him, since there was a chance someone new to the magical world might think 'traditional' meant 'muggle'.
In a way that was true, however that was in such a year that the "muggle subjects" were more along the lines of simple maths, simple English, swordplay, cooking, and archery. Those same subjects that were in line with things taught within almost every pureblood household already, hence the 'traditional' tone. Someone not-in-the-know might, again, mistake it for modern subjects and maybe swordplay.
Turias, of course, anticipated it, and he didn't hold back from teaching everything that Harry would be taught as if he were still in mundane schooling – in the 2060's.
It was only through the fact that the school couldn't provide an examiner for the muggle or traditional knowledge that it went unknown what Turias had been teaching him. Like, for example, what happens when you have a large uncontrolled fission reaction over a highly populated area.
By still surprising the professors at Hogwarts and by extension their end-of-term examinations, they were again able to leave the examination room without any significant questions being asked of them.
Harry had elected to stay with his new adoptive parents at the school while they finished their end-of-term errands. Turias on the other hand decided to head out to the train to the London station and to his own parents of this lifetime.
He had taken his time in finding a compartment to settle down into, all the while his luggage was floating faithfully behind him. Absolutely silent as possible, he ghosted his way through the train corridors, absently noting the differing cliques huddled together in their own compartments. He was completely content to remain unnoticed amongst them, only watching as the children had fun on their own.
That was, until someone decided that he'd be an easy target. Turias recognised the boy to be Marcus Flint, a pureblood bigot that got off on causing harm to his fellow man. "Hey Lestrange!" was how the confrontation started.
Turias turned to the boy with a patient, expectant look on his face, willing the other to continue. Only, the other didn't continue with words, and instead had thrown a stinging hex at Turias' face. Completely ignoring the pain from the new welt upon his face, Turias only frowned in disapproval at the seemingly older boy. "Bloody hell! It's true! The little squib can't even scream!" His buddies sniggered at his antics, but Turias was slowly growing impatient by the moment.
Wearing an annoyed expression, he raised his right arm, and fired off a quick stunner. The red light flew silently across the distance only to strike unerringly true. Flint fell like a puppet with his strings cut. He was satisfied to note that the boy's nose had hit the seat on the way down, and now was bleeding profusely.
Seeing the shocked looks on the boy's buddies' faces, Turias felt that it was a job well done, and turned to continue on his way. He faintly heard another of the boys ask another, "Did you see that? He wasn't even using a wand!"
Turias was still smirking as he entered a newfound empty compartment, heavily warded said compartment, and content in the fact that if they were to tell anyone it wouldn't be likely they'd be believed. Besides, who was dumb enough to admit to being involved in a confrontation with an eleven-year-old that kicked their arse?
After a short stab at completing their summer self-assigned homework, he settled down for a nap till he reached London. He might have been a magical powerhouse, but his body was still eleven, after all.
Turias, a self-proclaimed light sleeper to a severe degree, was proven right when he was awoken from his snooze with the feel of the train slowing for the platform's approach. That was to say nothing of the blowing whistle when they got within a reasonable range of said platform.
He gathered the small things that he'd not bothered to place within his trunk, and made his way off the train onto the platform. He let his lips twitch when he noticed his parents spot him back. Like all of his previous lives, he still felt some connection to the one that had given birth to him, aside from the few that had passed the line into being a monster.
It was that same connection that made it hard for him to keep his silence throughout his pre-Hogwarts years. He felt it necessary at the time, as it would be detrimental to the world he lived in, if the information he held was given to someone like what he remembered Bellatrix Lestrange to be like in his first life. He originally thought that the simple act of allowing her to become a mother wouldn't result in such a dramatic change in her core character, and so had tested her resolve by acting out a scenario that went against the dogma the original Bellatrix spouted.
She'd impressed him so far, and even his father wasn't terrible either.
It didn't take long for the family of three to reach each other, and from there it wasn't difficult for Turias to take hold of Rodolfus' arm to be side-along apparated. As always, Turias allowed the familiar magic of his father to pull him along, and he again was forced to experience the odd sensation of being a passenger while the driver was blind. He was thankful that it didn't last for long, and was staring at the portrait hung within the entrance hall of the Lestrange family home. Normally from there, Turias would speed walk towards the lounge and settle by the fire, but instead he deviated from the routine return from a social event.
Turias held onto the crook of Rodolfus' arm, and like a viper snagged Bellatrix's as well. Once done, he silently dragged them on route to the lounge. He could tell that they were curious as to what he was up to as he felt no resistance from his parents. Rightly so, since he wasn't normally one to initiate any physical contact with his parents, as he was afraid of forming any attachments with potentially monstrous people.
For his parents, it felt like it took a long time before they realised where they were going. While his mother went along happily, thinking that her son wanted to cuddle for once having been so far away from home for so long, his father was a little more reluctant. Rodolfus was a busy man, as he was responsible for the family prosperity as well as his own work with the Ministry of Magic that he needed to look after. Like most fathers, he considered his Hogwarts aged son to be too old for such childish wants, and would be seen as week for needing their parents so much during the holidays.
Once they entered the lounge, Turias' innocent love-me-I'm-cute façade he'd put up during his entire childhood as a Lestrange fell away. In its place was a man forced to relive life as different people that should never been, older in collective years expirenced than even some stars have been happily fusing elements. "Sit down, we need to talk." His voice carried a weight to it, amplified by the fact that they had only ever heard it once.
They sat, stunned.
"I have been a daughter to another mother once before. I have lived before, gotten married, and sired many children of my own.
"In my past life, I was once Elanor Black, the daughter of an estranged squib the Black family keeps secret to this day. I grew up believing you both to be fanatical followers of Voldemort, guilty of torture, murder, and a few other high crimes. From what I had found out back then, you were guilty of all of that, and instrumental in the monster's return from death and was his enforcers the first time around." While it was true, Turias did claim the name Elanor Black, it wasn't during the time that he'd implied. While it was also true that he grew up believing them both to be fanatical followers of Voldemort, it was more accurate to say that he believed them to be so while growing up for the second time.
Turias continued, "When I was reborn as your son, mother, father, it came as quite the shock to me. I had no desire to be the son of who you were in my first life. So, I stayed silent, I pulled away from you in case I got too attached to either of you. I also wanted to know if you were the same unreasonable people I was once warned of. Even more, I looked, and there doesn't seem to be any Elanor Blacks floating around when I know that I've lived in Surry before.
"So far, I haven't seen the same lust for harming others in you that I knew before, and you've passed the tests I've given you. I thought, that since you seemed to be of decent sort, you ought to know that your son isn't… isn't who you thought him to be." Again, Turias went for half-truths and misdirection, allowing them to come to the conclusions he wanted them to without actually lying to them. He knew from this life that they were eerily able to detect lies.
He waited for them to recover from their apparent shock. He enjoyed the circumstances while he could – there he was, notorious for his silence, and it was his parents that were speechless. His mother looked at him with an expression of confusion, which worried Turias a bit. Maybe this was a bit too much for his mother to take, and it was the point where she snapped. His father, on the other hand, was hidden behind a mask of indifference. He didn't know if it was a good thing or not yet, as he didn't have as much interaction with his father as he did with his mother.
Turias supressed the desire to pull back from other people as she reached forward to pull him in. She muttered into his hair, "While I'm not happy that you've kept this for so long, I am proud that you've come to us now. What changed your mind?"
"You kept me, even when you thought that I was a squib, and too damaged to speak. You didn't look at me like the shame of the family, like I thought you would. In my past life, I was used to you flinging Cruciatus curses like candy, and being the mouthpiece of pureblood propaganda."
Turias felt her inhale, then, "You're still my son. You're still my little Turias, even if you decide never to talk to us again, we will still love you." He heard a slap to his right, which Turias assumed to be his mother slapping some sense into his father.
He heard his father clear his throat, then, "Yes, we'll love you, even if you didn't have magic." It was what Turias wanted to hear, that which passed the final test he'd had – acceptance. It also more-or-less confirmed his first theory in that incarnation – it was a different timeline or universe or similar than the one he first lived through.
A/N: The dialogue at the end feels a bit awkward to me. Anyone willing to share their thoughts about it with me?