Professor Quirrell watched Addams closely as he had done for the last month. The boy was an enigma. His master had assured him that the child was as dark as they come, but he so often acted contrary to any dark wizard he knew. Still, he would never dare question his Master, and even he could feel a sense of unease from the boy. But he had only glimpsed a darker side to his character a few times, usually when confronted by another student. He hadn't done anything per se, but Quirrell had recognised that look in his eyes, and knew it was one followed by pain.
But the rest of the time Addams was polite and charming. In today's class, for example, he had already aced the Knockback Jinx the class had been tasked with and was now helping many of his fellow Slytherins, well his friends at least. He could see him correcting wand movement and advising on the proper intonation of Flipendo.
Voldemort had told Quirrell that the boy's charming, helpful nature was merely a façade, a mask that he was using to hide behind. It made sense and Voldemort himself had employed the same tactic whilst at school. However Addams seemed to actually enjoy the company of a few of his so-called friends, something he had never done. And then there were the rumours that he had something to do with the Flint situation. And that was endlessly frustrating because that's all it was: rumour! It seemed that trying to learn anything about the Addams family was like trying to catch smoke with a butterfly net! All anyone knew for certain was that Flint had fallen into a nightmare filled coma on his first night back at Hogwarts and it had lasted an entire week. It wasn't a stretch to suggest he had been the victim of a curse, but there was absolutely no evidence that pointed to Addams as the culprit. Dumbledore himself had checked and was sure Herido Addams hadn't entered Flint's dormitory, nor had he had any obvious opportunity to poison him. But it was common knowledge that the two had had an altercation and no one really had any doubt that Addams could have enough tricks up his sleeve to pull something like this off.
He was planning to have Quirrell find out the truth of the boy, but it would be difficult behind the guise of concerned teacher.
As ordered, the professor called for Heri to stay behind after class.
"Yes, Professor?" He asked, as polite as ever. The perfect little noble. Quirrell gestured to the seat by his desk and sat in his own chair.
"M-Mr Addams, how are y-you finding your cl-classes?" He was already a bit of a nervous soul, but he was more anxious that he wouldn't get anywhere with this famed boy and therefore anger his Master.
"Most interesting. I find this new type of magic fascinating, and imagine it can be endlessly beneficial." Heri glanced down to his teacher's left arm, hoping he might be able convince him to show his Mark.
"Y-yes ind-deed. I'm a-a l-little worried that y-you are f-f-f-inding my classes t-too easy. I h-hope you don't t-take offense w-when I say that I'm a l-little sur-surprised at how w-well you a-are t-taking to light magic, h-having c-come from a f-f-family such as yours." The knowing smile that broke out on Heri's face wasn't comforting in the least.
"You mean you're surprised a dark wizard would take so easily to light magic?" Heri scoffed and Quirrell looked a little scandalised that he had admitted to being dark so freely. Even if it was already the common consensus, you couldn't go around boasting about it! "I'm surprised at you, Professor. Surely you know that magic is magic, and that it's foolishness to restrict yourself because of silly labels." Quirrell gave the questioning glance, as was expected of a Hogwarts teacher, but Heri continued. "If you truly feel as you say, then I can return your observation: I'm surprised a dark wizard such as yourself could cast light magic so easily!" Quirrell didn't know whether he should be pleased at how the conversation was going or very concerned.
"Wh-what d-d-do y-y..."
"Please, let's not pretend when it's just the two of us. I know all about your association with Lord Voldemort." Quirrell's whole demeanour changed after that. He still looked nervous, but there was steel in his eyes that hadn't been there a moment ago. He took out his wand and quickly cast several privacy charms.
"What do you know?" He demanded. If they'd been found out his Master would be furious. He flinched at the thought.
"Oh, nothing really. Merely that you serve the man. I can see his magic tethered to your own, in the same way it's tethered to Snape." Well, that's what he thought he could see at least. He couldn't be that far off.
"You, you can see? What do you see? Wait, this means you have Magical Sight. The last person known to have that was…"
"Lord Voldemort." Heri finished for him. He couldn't understand why Quirrell would be so concerned about a self-confessed dark wizard knowing of his association. The man must actually just be the nervous type. "Yes, I know. I probably know all there is to know about the Dark Lord. It's a little embarrassing now, but I was quite obsessed with the man when I was little. You could say he was my idol. I used to talk about him so much that my little sister developed the most adorable crush on him when she was six. Oh, but don't tell her I told you! She'd skin me alive." Heri looked off fondly. "You too." He added as an aside.
Voldemort had to stop himself from letting out a mad cackle! It wouldn't do for a Dark Lord to cackle… but this was wonderful news. If the child already had the proper respect for him, it would surely be all too easy to bring him on side.
"And what do you feel about the Dark Lord now?" Quirrell ventured. Heri shrugged.
"I honestly don't know what to make of him!" He rubbed his forehead over the shield of his fringe. "On the surface he seems like a powerful and competent enough wizard, and he surely knows how to have fun! But a lot of things about him don't make sense to me, although maybe that's just because I was raised in America. I understand the wish to be separate from Muggles, but demonising muggleborns is crazy." Heri was hopeful that this man could explain the Dark Lord's bizarre behaviour.
"Ah, yes. I'm aware that blood purity isn't an issue in America – at least not like it is here. Is that why you're so comfortable with the Granger girl?" He sneered a little as he spoke her name. The cat was out of the bag, well it was the wrong cat, as Quirrell's situation wasn't like Snape's at all, but still, there was no sense in pretending now. It would probably only serve to annoy the boy.
"Hermione Granger might just turn out to be the greatest witch of my generation. Well, the greatest English witch… I could never compare her to my dear sister, if for no other reason than she gets frightfully competitive and I don't think Hermione would survive that." The smile on Herido's face spoke of an inside joke that Quirrell didn't think he wanted to know, so he let that statement lie.
"Surely you can't believe that a Mudblood girl could prove better than the many Pure-Bloods we have at this school." Heri's eyes narrowed at his professor's causal use of that swear word. As a speaker of many languages, he knew that words were not simply intoned sounds. No, those sounds represented something specific and that particular word was meant as a most nasty insult. Heri would not see anyone that he had declared worthy insulted. He felt it was an extension of the Addams Honour. He was about to berate the man about it, when he decided to take a different approach.
"Do any of the Pure-blooded first years achieve better results than Hermione? Or, for example, can any of them use the strength of their magic to bind another person's?" Quirrell didn't understand the implications of this question, but Voldemort did: it meant that at the very least the girl had a considerable magical core and was dark – darker (in the technical, mechanical sense), than he had been at eleven! Heri was taking a risk in exposing the girl in this way. As a 'light' teacher at Hogwarts, Quirrell could see to it that she was arrested with this information.
"So you think muggleborns are equal to other wizards? Next you will be saying the same of muggles and magical creatures." The teacher said with disgust.
"Not equal, I imagine. But not 'better' either!" The man looked aghast at this so he continued. "Wizards, no matter their birth, are able to do things that muggles cannot: this makes wizards stronger than them, luckier than them! But they can use other means to achieve similar results, whereas wizards rest on their laurels and don't pay attention to what the muggles are able to do."
"And why should they?!" Quirrell asked, unable to hold his tongue at such a ridiculous reasoning. "Name one reason why we should seek to learn from muggles!"
"One reason? How about the microprocessor? If you believe that knowledge is power, then surely you must recognise that the muggles being able to access any knowledge they wish in less than a second makes them powerful. As does their ability to communicate immediately and their ability to destroy this entire planet with the click of a button! No wizard, not even Lord Voldemort, has that kind of power!"
"And all that merely shows what a danger muggles are! They should be eradicated. Exterminated like the parasites they are! The means they use to accomplish the same as wizards destroys other humans and the very planet itself!"
Heri couldn't deny the professor's words. But he also couldn't tell him that one of the main reasons he tolerated muggles, was because they were endlessly amusing and creative. He didn't think the 'how could we live in a world without Shakespeare, Van Gogh and Freddy Mercury?' argument would work with this fanatic.
"Perhaps we could continue this conversation another time, Professor? I'm most interested in hearing about Lord Voldemort's ideals." Heri needed time to think; otherwise the conversation would just circle back around again and again.
"Very well." Quirrell thought he had achieved enough in this first encounter to please his master. "But before you go, I feel the need to warn you: Snape is not at all similar to me and I would not be as open with him as you have been with me." Heri nodded his understanding.
"I have pondered as to why he turned traitor. He's so obviously a dark wizard…" He just shrugged and bid the professor goodbye.
It was announced that the first years were to attend flying lessons. It seemed nonsensical to Heri that the class was compulsory; after all, surely many of these students had been flying since they were old enough to hold onto a broom for dear life.
When they were directed to summon their broom, Heri's leapt into his hand immediately, but quivered slightly until he rubbed his thumb over the handle in a comforting gesture – he meant the item no harm, at least not right now.
Draco and Blaise also had no trouble, obviously being familiar with the action. Daphne hesitated, looking down at her own broom with disgust, until she eventually called it to her, resigned to having to handle the inferior piece of wood.
Hermione was having a little more trouble with her own broom and soon looked up to the others for help. Heri just gave her a flat look, but she seemed to interpret it well enough. After everything she'd done, she was certainly not going to be disobeyed by an enchanted object. She glared down at the stationary broom.
"Up!" She spoke in a sharp, clipped voice and the broom flew up, smacking into her palm with force and causing her to let out a hiss of pain. Blaise gave her a questioning look when he heard it, but she just shook her head. She'd accomplished what was required of her and that was enough for now.
Heri was surprised to notice that Weasley seemed to be having a lot of trouble with the simple task. Surely a child from such an old family was familiar with riding a broom? He'd overheard him chatting excitedly about Quidditch Leagues often enough. After he had finally summoned and mounted it, Weasley looked a lot more comfortable. Heri really wanted to see both Weasley and Neville brought out of their shells.
Neville it seemed would require a lot more work than Ron. Either that or he had fondness for danger that Heri hadn't noticed before. It only took the boy mounting his broom once to set off in a death defying accident and break his wrist. Very interesting, Heri thought, a lack of care for personal safety could be very useful.
Heri watched silently as the Slytherins and Gryffindors exchanged opinions on the comedic value of the Longbottom heir's accident. He could see Ron turning that lovely shade of red once again as Draco insulted him.
In the last few weeks, Draco's actions had revealed that one of his favourite pastimes was putting down those he thought beneath him. Heri could respect this, but thought the boy was a little too gauche in his methods. Often he came across more like a bully than the heir to one of the most influential families in Britain. Still, it didn't affect him, and Heri wasn't one to deny people their fun usually, but he realised that intervening here could give him an in with both Longbottom and Weasley.
While Heri had been assessing the situation, Ron had followed Draco into the air in an effort to retrieve the Remembrall Neville had dropped.
"Draco, come back here! Didn't you hear what Madam Hooch said…" Hermione was calling with no effect.
"Don't worry, 'Mione, I'll get them both back safe on solid ground." And with that said, Heri took off. Hermione actually threw her hands up in the air,
"Boys!" She exclaimed, feeling utterly infuriated and at her wits end with the lot of them.
Heri reached the other two just in time to see Draco throw the ball as far as he could, no doubt set on breaking it and then blaming Ron for not being good enough to catch it. He summoned it back before Draco could blink and called out to him.
Draco froze at hearing Heri. He had been so caught up in teasing Weasley that he hadn't even noticed him approach. He turned to find him holding the Remembrall he'd just thrown in the opposite direction.
"Really, Draco. You don't want to get into trouble do you?" Something about Heri's chiding tone set alarm bells ringing in Draco's head, so he just shook his head and made his way back to the others.
Ron swooped down in front of Heri.
"Give that back, Addams!" He called, looking more than a little confused.
"Certainly." He replied, tossing it to the Weasley boy. "You must forgive Draco. Sometimes he forgets that not everyone has his sense of humour."
"Sense of…" Ron said in disbelief. "What's you game?" He challenged.
"Oh, I enjoy a great many games. But perhaps you could answer my question, Ronald? Why do you act as though you are unsure of your ability, when, coming from a family such as yours, you must have at least a basic understanding of the things we're learning at this school?" Ron froze at the question. It was certainly not what he'd been expecting when confronting Herido Addams. His parents had written him to stay as far away from the boy as possible, and so far he had been able to heed their advice. But the dark boy spoke as though he thought Ron capable of more than he'd shown.
"Wha, I, just because I come from an old family doesn't mean I'm better than anyone else!" Ron's declaration was a confident but indoctrinated response, and Heri just rolled his eyes.
"Don't you think it should? At a school dedicated to the education of wizards, surely you should have an advantage over students like Hermione?" Ron scowled at the comparison, but was slowing turning the shade of red that told Heri he was embarrassed.
"I'm sure all you slimy snakes cheat in class, and besides she's just an annoying know-it-all!" Heri want to kick the boy: that didn't even make sense. There was only so much he could do… He took a deep breath and closed his eyes in an effort not to knock him off his broom. Ron would obviously needed a softly, softly approach and Heri didn't think he had the patience for it.
"Ron," He started with a personal effort he thought he should be applauded for, "Why are you so reluctant to embrace your worth? There is nothing wrong with accepting you have an advantage and playing to your strength." The scowl on Ron's face hadn't diminished and he was staring Heri down with guarded suspicion - must be that foolish Gryffindor bravery.
The sharp angry voice of Snape cut through his thoughts:
"Addams, Weasley! Get down here! Immediately!"
"Just a moment, Professor." Heri's voice was soft, but somehow easily carried to those waiting below. His eyes never left the ginger boy's. Ron was stunned when no further comment came from the fearsome Potions Master. "You know what I think, Ronald?" Heri began. He was employing a mild form of muggle hypnosis to cut through some of the indoctrination, but he had to be careful because he wasn't at all skilled in hypnosis – not like his mother. The only reason he thought he might get away with it with Ron was because the boy was just so emotional. "I think you resent that you are so overshadowed by your siblings. Even I noticed the twins long before I noticed you." Ron was annoyed by the suggestion his bothers might be better than him, but was also secretly rejoicing that a person as respected and famed as Addams thought he was worth notice. "But I think that, that is only because you allow yourself to be. You have just as much potential as them, and maybe more. They have a taste for sadism that is welcomed, but I see in you anger, resentment, jealously and most importantly, an aggression that could be so powerful, if only you embraced it!"
Ron felt himself being draw along with the words. Why shouldn't he use the power and advantages he had? It wasn't like even his parents refused their own advantages – they used magic even though muggles didn't have it, didn't they? All of his brothers enthusiastically accepted their own strengths, but at some point Ron had simply given up trying to be special in any way.
Heri let the boy think for a few moments and then, seed sown, he descended. He would see if this conversation led anywhere. If it did not, he wouldn't be wasting any more time on him.
He returned to the ground to find Madam Hooch and Professor Snape waiting for him, Hermione was still whispering rebukes to Draco and everyone else was wondering what on earth was going on.
"Addams! Follow me!" Snape demanded in a tone all too forceful for Heri's liking. Apparently he was in trouble for disregarding Madam Hooch's instructions. He had to take a short moment to stop himself reacting to the demand, before he followed.
Once he was sequestered into Snape's office he ignored the man's words – doubtless a reprimand of some sort, as though the man actually had an ounce of authority over him – and instead tried to focus his own magic on that of his Head of House's Dark Mark. It was something he had wanted to do since the time he'd found out about it.
"…with your reputation should take more care in… "Snape was going on when he stopped to clasp his left arm, bending over slightly in pain as the mark that had been dormant for so many years started to burn.
Heri couldn't hide his grin. So the mark was, what, interactive? That Voldemort!
Snape sneered at the self-satisfied look on the boy's face.
"Is everything ok, Professor?" Heri asked all too innocently. Snape had the urge to hex him, but quickly shoved the feeling down. It wouldn't do to hex a student, never mind an Addams, and besides, if he wanted anything from the boy, he'd have to play nice. Well, nicer than hexes. He took a calming breath, still holding on to his arm. Part of his soul was frozen at the thought that Voldemort was back, but the winning part of his reasoning assured him that this was surely down to the infernal boy.
"Addams, this country is very sensitive to even the smallest mention of the Dark Sect. You seem to be wilfully ignorant to this. If you could employ a little tact..." Heri went back to ignoring him. The Professor had no idea just how much tact and self-control Heri was using. Instead he experimented with how much he could make the Dark Mark react to his magic. He was only able to enjoy the wincing and scowling of Snape for a short time before it became apparent that his professor would not rise to the obvious baiting. Heri took to looking around the room, in what an onlooker would interpret as an overly disinterested and petulant manner. His eyes were drawn to a half hidden newspaper, old if the discolouration was anything to go by, and blazing a headline that was obviously to do with Harry Potter's disappearance.
"Catching up on the news, Professor?" He interrupted the man's words, indicating to the article.
Snape quickly pulled a pile of student essays to cover the paper, regarding Addams with the suspicion that had kept him alive for so long.
"If you could pay attention, Addams! I would expect someone of your breeding to be able to pay attention for at least…"
"Breeding is such a callous word." He replied, though mostly to himself. "But regardless, does the hero worship really go this far?" He drew attention once more to the 'late' Harry Potter.
"I can assure you that there is no hero worship," the disgust at such a thought was obviously displayed on Snape's face. Heri raised an eyebrow. "This is none of your business, and if you are determined to ignore my advice, you are dismissed. Detention with Filch!" Heri had gone from casual curiosity to genuine intrigue because of the defensive tone.
"Very well." He'd been looking forward to playing with Filch anyway.
"What did you say to Weasley? He was unusually subdued after the incident earlier." The small group of Slytherins were lazing in front of the fireplace on the common room. Well, most of them were; Hermione was going through Blaise's Charms homework with red ink. They'd all given up trying to stop the annoying behaviour – it was a fruitless endeavour.
Heri looked up at Draco's question.
"I merely pointed out that he was wasting his potential."
"The same as with Neville, right?" Hermione didn't even look up as she made sweeping marks with her quill, blowing a strand of hair out of her face as she worked. Draco scoffed.
"I can't see what you see in either of them. A weasel and a baboon?"
"I no naka no kawasu taikai wo shirazu." At the annoyed look from the others Heri spoke in English, resenting the limitations his friends placed on him; not everything could be adequately expressed in English. "Unfortunately Draco, you still view the world only through the narrow tunnel of indoctrination."
"Ima ga, Dracokun wa baka desu ne" Hermione spoke. Her Japanese was poor but she was trying hard to learn.
"Draco-kun what?" Draco asked, offended already, even though he had no idea what she'd said.
Hermione just smiled at him, pulling a piece of hair behind her ear – the same piece that was constantly blocking her view.
"That's it!" Daphne broke clean through the mood in an exasperated outcry. Everyone looked to her. "Hermione, I'm going to give you a makeover and teach you how to manage… that." She declared with a slight mania in her eyes.
"What? No, I prefer to leave things natural. Natural is always best!" Hermione returned confidently.
"Like tapeworm!" Heri couldn't deny that Daphne had skill – completely destroying an argument with two sarcastic words. Hermione frowned. Okay, she had to concede that maybe nature wasn't always best. Maybe she should hear the girl out. She'd been very nice to her since the start of school, and Hermione was pleased to have a girl to talk to, someone who understood her frustration with the boys. It was nice.
"OK." She said hesitantly, not entirely sure what she was agreeing to, but hoping it was be worth the trepidation she felt.
I apologise for the delay. Work is crazy at the moment, but I'm planning to have another chapter up soon!
I no naka no kawasu taikai wo shirazu: a frog in a well does not know the great sea. (People view the world according to their own narrow range of experience).
Ima ga, Dracokun wa baka desu ne: Hermione is trying to say 'you mean Draco is an idiot, right.'