"I'm afraid that Professor Mesmer took everything we had on occlumency this morning", the librarian said. "He said it was urgent and that he was going give them back next month."
Harry took a deep breath and tried not to scream.
There was no denying it now. Today wasn't his day.
It wasn't his week either. Or his year.
What was he thinking? It wasn't even his bloody century.
Harry didn't even bother thanking the witch and angrily left the library, not even noticing Dumbledore entering as he was leaving.
He had hoped to find something to deal with this vision of Voldemort but, apparently, somebody out there hated him.
His occlumency lessons with Snape had been painful, and humiliating but at the very least he had very little to lose. His pride perhaps, and he had known Snape would taunt him every time he would see something embarrassing, but he hadn't been hiding anything too important.
Now however? He didn't trust anybody with the knowledge he was a time-traveller. And a glance at any of his memories would be as good as a confession. From his Fifth year to Uncle Vernon's newest car, anything and everything would betray he wasn't from this century.
So Harry had to learn occlumency properly. Not only to deal with the Voldemort problem, but also to deal with the time travel problem. Meaning he needed to find a way to finally master occlumency as soon as he could.
Problem was, the way things were, Harry certainly wasn't going to let Albus Dumbledore help him if that meant letting him in his head.
Harry gritted his teeth at the memory of what the wizard had done.
Dumbledore was a genius, everybody knew that. So why on earth had he thought it was a good idea to do that? Was he that desperate not to lose a bloody duel? Was it some stupid joke?
Harry pinched his nose and sighed.
He was lost. He was lost and he didn't know who to trust. Worse, he had so much on his plate he had no idea what he was supposed to do. Should he focus on the time travel problem, or the Voldemort problem?
"I'm here, in your head. I've been here for almost fifteen years. Maybe you will stop us from having a nice chat –you're a terrible host by the way, didn't your mudblood of mother teach you any manners? Oh right, I killed her- but I will never leave."
Harry grimaced at the memory.
He didn't know if that vision was real, he tried to remind himself. Albus may be right and this was nothing but his imagination. And furthermore, if it was real, this Voldemort had said he had been here for over fifteen years and nothing had happened so far. The Voldemort problem was important, but if this Voldemort was being honest –and Harry didn't know if he should hope that was the case- then it wasn't the most urgent.
The time travel problem however, he had to deal with it. And, while nobody could to know Harry Potter was a time traveller for the time being, he doubted many students knew legimency. Maybe fifteen years old Dumbledore did, but if he avoided looking at him in the eyes or outright avoided him, he supposed he would be safe.
He'd have to make do and learn occlumency on his own -he wasn't completely ignorant after all- and just try to survive here until he could find somehow a way to go back.
In other words, Harry thought, the plan for now was to find a way back home and not change the future, nor let anybody find out he was not from this time.
To do that, Harry Potter had to be a wizard like any other here. One very unremarkable and normal, average wizard, somebody nobody would remember once he would finally leave this century and go home.
He could do it.
"And you say he beat Albus Dumbledore in a duel?" a Fifth-Year from Hufflepuff breathed.
The Fourth-Year Hufflepuff nodded. "Albus himself confirmed it."
"Blimey. I didn't- I didn't think that was possible! B-But how?"
The Fourth Year carefully looked at the librarian behind her. "Maybe he used the Sight to See how he could win against him," she whispered.
Wouldn't that count as cheating? Albus wondered.
"Or maybe," the girl's friend whispered back, "he is one of these geniuses who have heard about Dumbledore and now wants to prove he is the superior wizard. Benedicta told me that Peggy told her Agatha told her these two were close so maybe that's why. He must be really good."
"You think so?" she breathed.
"Oh come on. Don't you find suspicious that he came here just like that and Dippet likes him? He has to be good and it's obvious he has no problem with class."
"And what do you think? You think he is the better wizard?"
"I don't know. Maybe?"
Albus hid his face behind his hand and sighed while the girls a couple of feet away from him kept gossiping.
"He's odd, you know" the Fifth-Year continued. "I mean, a complete stranger who looks like one of these purebloods but nobody has ever heard of? I'm sure he's hiding something."
"Yes, that's obvious, but what?"
The two girls crossed their arms and hummed.
"Maybe Harry Potter is not his real name," one of them whispered.
It hadn't even been fifteen minutes since the end of their lesson and the gossip mill was going strong. In a couple of hours, what would the new student become? The greatest wizard of modern times?
Albus decided to stop paying attention and focused on his book. Creating new potions was a dangerous business, and the slightest mistake could be fatal. He knew he was on the right track, but any misstep could cost him dearly. Moreover, even if he was extremely careful, everything could blow up in his face. It had happened several times and, if he was honest with himself, Albus was growing sick of waking up in the infirmary without any recollection of how that happened.
But what was life without a few risks? he reasoned. If nobody tried, nobody would ever know if that worked.
When Albus finally left the library two hours later, he was rather confident that the potion he was going to brew in a week would not blow up in his face like the last three and that Harry Potter was neither the heir of Gryffindor nor Slytherin.
Where did they get these ideas anyway?
"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."
"What?"
The Slytherin who had cornered him while he was heading to the Great Hall jovially laughed. "I have to say, you're not being as subtle as you think you are."
Harry spluttered. "I don't… I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't," he indulged. He slyly smiled as he put a strand of straw blonde hair behind his ear. "I just want you to know, if I can help you with you-know-what, just tell me."
"And what is you-know-what?" a cold voice asked.
The blonde Slytherin's smile slid off his face when he saw Black slowly approaching. "Wh-Why…" He swallowed. "I don't think I should tell you, Black."
"Do you?" He crossed his arms and smirked. "But I'm curious now, what do you know about Potter, Sluggy? C'mon, tell me. Because, if you don't, I'm going to be sad. I thought you told me we were friends this morning and there should be no secret between friends. Aren't we friends, Sluggy?"
The blonde started sweating. "O-Of course we are b-but-"
"Why, I'm even going to believe you don't want to tell me because you don't know."
Harry frowned and turned his head to look at the rapidly paling wizard. "I-I d-"
"But do you know what I know? I know that you are the one responsible for yesterday's incident in the Common Room. So if you don't want me to use this-" Black tapped at the Prefect badge on his robe. "-you should leave before I decide to remember I'm supposed to give you detention."
He didn't need to tell him twice.
When the boy left the corridor, Black crossed his arms and sighed. "I said you should get help from the right wizards, I didn't say you should go scrapping the bottom of the cauldron." He rolled his eyes. "Sluggy, honestly."
"Sluggy."
He waved his hand. "That's how we call him. He seems to believe that's because we like him. He has been following me like glue ever since he came here. And Dumbledore. And now you. Sorry to tell you, but he'll come back. It's bad enough he's in our year now…" He sighed.
Harry frowned. "I thought he was a Fourth Year." He looked young enough to be.
"He should be." He sighed again. "But, apparently, he asked to jump a year and his demand was granted."
Harry blinked. "You can jump a year?"
Black rolled his eyes. "No. Unfortunately for everybody, he's found a way to get in anyway." He cursed under his breath. "He did it on purpose, didn't he?" he whispered.
"Who did?" Harry couldn't help asking.
"Doesn't matter," Black said. "Still, I should probably warn you that it's only going to get worse."
Harry startled. "What?"
Black slowly smirked. "I don't know if you know, but Dumbledore is rather well-known here. He's won a few prizes for Hogwarts, he is rather well-liked, he is the best student this school has ever seen… some even say he's going to be the next Merlin."
Harry shrugged.
"And yet," Black told him, "some mysterious wizard nobody knows has managed to defeat him in a wizarding duel. What do you think everybody is thinking right now?"
Harry thought about it. He stilled.
Black sneered at the sight of Harry's horrified face. "If you were trying to be discreet, I'm sorry to say you failed. Quite spectacularly in fact."
Harry stammered.
"I don't even think you can salvage this," he pretended to think. "Especially since Dumbledore will do anything to have a rematch."
Harry hid his face between his hands and mentally counted to ten. Thrice.
"I'm curious though. Is it true that you are the Heir of Slytherin?" Black smirked when Harry swore. "Don't ask me why Slytherin and not Gryffindor. Somebody said that's what the divination cards showed."
Harry considered screaming.
"Now, what are you going to do?"
Harry uncomprehendingly looked at the Slytherin. "What?"
"I'm curious. What are you going to do now that you know?" The prefect crossed his arms. "Will you prove them they're right? Will you fail and everybody will say you're a fraud?"
Running away screaming was the very first thing that came to his mind. Praying Black was exaggerating was another. Finding a way to leave this bloody century too, as soon as possible. He had hoped nobody would remark him, but apparently even that was nothing but a faraway dream.
He wanted to scream at the injustice of everything that had happened to him ever since he had had his vision of Sirius being tortured, he wanted to destroy everything he could grab. He wanted to give up, to go find Dumbledore and shout at him that this entire mess was his fault and that he had better fix everything on the spot or he would hex him.
Except it wasn't really this Dumbledore's fault, was it? He couldn't help thinking. It was mostly his because he hadn't paid attention to Snape and his occlumency lessons and because he hadn't listened to Hermione that he was in this mess. It was because he hadn't even bothered to think about the problem for a second he was there.
So, this time, Harry decided to really think about the problem at hand.
"Will you run away now that the eyes of the entire school are on you? Because I doubt you wanted anybody to know you're here. Will you ask somebody to help you deal with that?"
But Harry wasn't looking at Black smirking. He was too focused about what this all meant to him. He had beaten Baby Dumbledore in a duel and now people thought he was some great and powerful wizard because of that.
"So what? What are you going to do?"
Finally, Harry sighed. If he really thought about it, there was only one choice he had. "I'll deal with it."
"Yes, obviously. But how?"
Harry slowly shrugged. "I'll tell them the truth."
And the more he was thinking about it, the more ridiculous the problem seemed to be. Everybody said he had beaten the great Albus Dumbledore in a duel?
"I'll tell them that even Albus Dumbledore can make mistakes. No big deal."
Black's smirk stilled.
It didn't really matter who everybody believed him to be and whatever stories they were cooking, he realized. To him, he had just won a duel against an arrogant Fifth Year. It was nothing noteworthy. It wasn't Voldemort, it wasn't his Death Eaters. Harry had just helped a teacher with her class and managed to disarm his opponent because he had played with him and Harry had been pissed.
"If they think I'm some extremely skilled or powerful wizard because I beat him, I'll tell them they're missing the point. In Defence Against the Dark Arts, it's not the necessarily most powerful one who wins. It's the one who doesn't underestimate the one in front of him even when that person seem harmless to somebody like him"
Why, even a baby could defeat the most terrible dark wizard of the century. To Harry Potter there was nothing new under the sun. Hell, it even was a downgrade.
Harry couldn't stop a smile when he saw the prefect's dumbfounded face. "And if you think that it's going to change anything, that I'm going to try to bask in the attention, that I can't handle a few rumours or I that will ask for help, then you don't know me at all."
And after the mess that had been his Fifth Year, this was nothing.
The Slytherin stared at him for a few seconds. After several second, he lowered his head. And, shoulders shaking, he began to laugh.
"You're quite something, aren't you?" He widely smiled before laughing again. "I thought this year was going to be boring but apparently not. This is going to be quite entertaining to watch, isn't it?"
Before Harry could blink, the wizard turned his back and started walking away. "If I'm right you have a week. So enjoy it before you get in trouble."
Harry startled. "A week before what?"
But the prefect never answered.
At the other side of the castle, another confrontation was taking place.
"What, you think you can go walk around the castle as you please?" a Slytherin sneered to a group of First Years. "I don't think so. You see, we don't like Gryffindors around here."
A girl from Gryffindor uncomprehendingly looked at the Slytherin and the two others behind him. "B-But- we need to-"
"-go to class? Tough." He took his wand and pointed at the kids who took a step back. "Now, why don't we show these Gryffindors what we do to those like them?"
"How about you don't?"
The girl blinked, looked behind and watched as an older student went past them and faced the Slytherin.
"Leave them alone, Goyle."
"Dumbledore," Goyle sneered.
"You leave them alone," the wizard slowly hissed. "Better, you and your goons leave. Right now."
"Or what?" The Slytherin crossed his arms. "What are you going to do? Go crying for help?"
Dumbledore bristled.
"Mister Dumbledore?" The girl softly said, "It's okay. We'll just go."
"You shouldn't have to go."
"We-We're going to be late for Charms," she tried. And we're not really sure where the classroom is."
The man closed his blue eyes and sharply inhaled. "Fine. I'll show you." He opened them and pointed an accusing finger at the now smirking wizard. "But don't think I'll forget this."
The group of Gryffindors turned away and started leaving.
"Sure, sure. Dumbledore, the knight. Dumbledore, the defender of the innocents and the poor little Gryffindors," Goyle taunted. "Dumbledore, the son of the same wizard who attacked two muggles."
The boy's shoulders tensed.
"I wonder how it is like when you go see him in Azkaban," he cruelly said with a smirk at the wizard who had turned back and was walking in his direction. "He must be so ashamed of you. Defending mudbloods when he-"
Dumbledore punched him.
"Don't fight!" the girl shrieked when the two other Slytherins started attacking the wizard who started to punch left and right. "Please, don't fight!"
But fight they did, and even thought it was three against one, the Gryffindor kept attacking, never giving an inch to his opponents.
For a moment, he even thought he was going to win. Two down, only Goyle was left.
And then reality came back when he heard Albus' horrified scream.
"Aberforth! What on earth are you doing?"
