Disclaimer: The wonderful world of Harry Potter belongs to JKR, the Inquisition belongs to Games Workshop, and the assorted characters belong to Games Workshop, and Dan Abnett.
A/N PLEASE READ: I would just like to start off by saying something. In a recent review, a reader (Now former reader) accused me of bowing to what other people wanted of my story instead of continuing on with the idea I had originally in mind. At first I tried to deny this but the more I though about it, the more I realised the reviewer was right. I had been doing what other people wanted me to do with the story instead of what I wanted. The original plan was to pair Harry with either Hermione or Ginny but a reviewer pointed out that this would be unlikely due to Harry's military background and harsh lifestyle and so I opened up to the idea of pairing him with Tonks, an Auror. This lead to me creating a poll of the girls to see who everyone else wanted Harry to be with instead of what I wanted. When I realised this, I made a choice. I would take advice, ideas and constructive criticism from reviews but I would not let them sway me from my original vision for the story.
With this in mind, I have decided to end the poll. I have made a choice for Harry to either be paired with Patience Kys or Daphne Greengrass (Who already held the number 1 and 2 spots in the poll anyway) and I will make a final decision before too long.
To the reviewer who brought this up and gave me the kick in the arse I needed (And you know who you are) I would just like to say thank you. Your review will always serve as a reminder to me as to what can happen when you allow yourself to bend to the will of others.
P.S. People seem to think I was going to pull my OC characters from the story. I'm not, I was just saying that I was thinking of pulling Patience out of the running for the pairing. Trust me, Bruce and Patience will be around for a while yet.
Harry flopped down onto his bed, face first and fully clothed, with a groan of both pain and misery.
It was in this state the Patience found him.
"So how was the first day?" She asked as she leaned against the doorframe, her arms folded across her chest and an amused smirk on her full lips.
Harry didn't even lift his head to look at her. "I have seen Hell. And it is filled with children."
"It can't have been that bad."
This time Harry did lift his head, if only for the express purpose of glaring at her. "It was worse. I was trying to teach some of the First Years how to perform Expelliarmus so I had them divide up into pairs. One kid turned his partner's hair into goo and it took me nearly twenty minutes to get her to calm down! I tried to send her to the Hospital Wing but she wouldn't leave the class!"
Patience laughed. "So what did you do?"
Harry gave a sort of shrug. "The only thing I could do: I Disillusioned her, threw her over my shoulder and carried her to the Hospital Wing myself."
Patience shook her head. "You're a cruel man doing that to a child."
"It wasn't like she was missing an arm, it was only some goo! Why'd she make such a big fuss over it?"
She shook her head patronisingly. "This girl is just starting her school career and she doesn't want to go through the next seven years being know as the 'Goo Girl'. You don't understand kids at all, do you?"
"I do so understand kids."
"No, you don't. You might if you were one but you spend too much time trying to act like an adult."
Harry frowned. "I am an adult. I'm emancipated and an Inquisitor."
Patience nodded as she moved further into the room. She perched herself on the edge of the bed, her dark eyes locking with Harry's. "In the eyes of the law yes, you are an adult but the fact remains that you're still young. You're one of the most mature people I know, Harry, and I have no doubt that you'll become one of the best Inquisitors around but at what cost?"
Harry rolled off the bed, away from Patience, and shrugged off his jacket. He kept his back to the Vampire as he hung the heavy garment in his cupboard. It was obvious that he was trying to tune her out but she wasn't about to stop now. This was something she had been wanting to say for a while.
"Harry I know that you don't like people commenting on your age or calling you a kid and I'd never be one to say that you're too immature or inexperienced to do anything but you are still young. These are supposed to be the best years of your life and you're missing out on them."
Harry acted like he hadn't heard her as he shrugged off his shirt and changed into a more comfortable t-shirt.
Patience sighed. "Is being a kid really that bad?"
"I'm not a kid." Harry growled, his back still to her.
"Fine, being young then." Patience said soothingly. She wasn't usually this gentle, only allowing Harry, and on rare occasions, Bruce, to see this side of her. There wasn't much that would cause Harry to loose his temper with either her or Bruce but one of things that would was his age. Of course, he'd snap at anyone that brought it up, save Lord Rorken or maybe his old mistress, Alizabeth. She looked at him levelly, trying not to agitate him. She doubted he'd ever hurt her but a cold shoulder from him would hurt worse than any blow. "Harry, while you were in the Schola, how many friends did you have?"
She saw Harry flinch ever so slightly.
When he spoke, his voice was flat; completely devoid of emotion, like the topic meant nothing to him. "I didn't focus on it; I had my studies to worry about. Learning to be an Inquisitor didn't exactly leave me with a lot of free time."
Patience nodded. "I understand that but you must spoken to the others in your class even a little."
Harry hesitated for only a millisecond but she caught it. "I wasn't exactly…well received among my peers so I didn't make an effort to get to know them."
Patience frowned. "What do you mean?"
Harry shook his head. "It doesn't matter."
"Harry--"
"Enough." Harry cut her off. "It's late and I need to get some sleep. I might want you and Bruce to do some more scouting tomorrow so you should rest as well."
She sighed, hearing the dismissal in his voice. Friend or not, he was still her boss. One with a ton of responsibility on his shoulders. Getting up from the bed, she walked to the door, only to pause at the threshold and look back to where Harry still stood, his back to her as he rummaged in his cupboard. "Just do me a favour, Harry. At least try to get to know some people your own age. You don't have to like them but it would do you some good if you did." Hearing no reply, Patience sighed again and left, the door closing quietly behind her.
Harry finished changing into his sleep clothes and climbed into bed, his wand and gun on the table beside him. With a thought, the candles went out, plunging the room into darkness. Harry lay awake for some time before sighing and turning over, sleep finally taking him.
Harry sat at his place at the Head Table, inhaling all caffeine within Summoning distance while casually flipping through the Daily Prophet. There was nothing interesting. Just a few reports of Death Eater sightings, fear mongering, more thoughts on the Boy-Who-Lived rising from the dead and a notice about a sale at Florish & Blotts.
Bored, he tossed the rag aside and reached for the bacon when a shuffling sound from above drew his attention. His eyes snapped upwards and his face immediately broke into a wide grin. He raised his arm and within seconds a beautiful snowy white owl landed on it, her large amber eyes locked with his green ones.
"Good flight, Hedwig?" He asked as he stroked her soft feathers.
Learning into his touch, his faithful familiar gave a hoot of affirmation.
"You hungry?" He asked, offering her his bacon.
She gave his fingers an affectionate nibble and gratefully took the meat. He pushed the plate towards her and filled a goblet with cool water for her to drink.
He sat there contently watching his long time friend scarf her food (In a very ladylike manner of course), a small smile on his lips.
"Good morning, Harry." Professor Dumbledore said pleasantly as he sat on his own throne of a chair.
"Headmaster." Harry nodded back.
"I must say that's a marvellous creature you have there. Your owl I presume?" The old man asked as he gazed at Hedwig who returned the look, not once ceasing in her meal.
"She's my long time friend and bonded familiar, Hedwig. Hed, this is Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of the school." Harry introduced them.
"Hello, Hedwig." Dumbledore nodded at the bird. He blinked in surprise when she nodded back with a hoot and chuckled. "Not your ordinary run-of-the-mill post owl I see."
"Of course not!" Harry exclaimed in mock outrage. "Hed's much more than those simple farm animals, aren't you girl?"
The white owl gave an affirmative hoot and stood proudly, her chest puffed out.
Dumbledore chuckled. "Of course. My apologies, Hedwig." He turned to Harry as he tucked into his breakfast. "How is the teaching coming along, Harry?"
Harry sighed and returned to stroking Hedwig's feathers. "To be honest, I find it boring, repetitive and rather irritating."
"Surely it can't be that bad?"
"Headmaster, the things I'm teaching mostly come from small snippets of knowledge I've discovered while pursuing my studies as an Interrogator. Many of the required coursework spells that the N.E.W.T. students need to know are so below my level that I never bothered to learn them, instead opting for more powerful versions."
"Alessandro had commented that you are a gifted protégé the likes of which he's never seen. I have faith that your students will learn a vast amount from you." Dumbledore assured. Taking a sip from his goblet, he asked, "What year have you got first today?"
"Seventh Years." Harry said. There was an unidentifiable tone to his voice when he spoke.
"Is there something wrong, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry shook his head and stood. "Nothing important, Headmaster. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go get ready for my class." Leaving Hedwig to her meal, Harry left the Great Hall.
As he strode towards his class, his mind was in deep thought and if he had to tell the truth, he was slightly nervous (Although no torture or truth serum on this Earth would ever get him to admit it). This would be the first time he had people older than himself in his class. The previous students (Save Malfoy) had all still been in shock over the revelation of who and what he was to have brought up the issue but these students were nearly adults now and were in their last year of school. These exams would determine their entire lives and it was obvious that they'd be at least a little wary of being taught by someone younger than they themselves were.
His rough treatment of young Draco the day before had been not only a demonstration to the other students but also a small release of accumulated anger over people always looking down on him because of his age. Thankfully he hadn't released his full amount of anger over the subject otherwise Malfoy would have been reduced to a scorch on the ground as well as the other students and a few of the surrounding classes. If this one entire class belittled him then chances were he'd go on a massacre. He had a plan to hopefully put their fears to rest. He just hoped it worked.
He was waiting for them.
One by one his oldest students entered the room, each sitting in one of the large chairs Harry had Conjured. He himself sat at a desk before the chairs, his pistol resting on the wooden surface for some intimidation.
When they were all seated, Harry stood and walked around the front of the desk, his hands in his pockets. Like the previous day, a piece of parchment and a quill appeared before one of the students, floating lazily in mid-air until it was picked up.
"Sign your names so I know who's here." Harry instructed. He let his eyes drift over the senior pupils who were all watching him with calculating eyes. He sighed. It was now or never. "As you already know, I am your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. If you haven't realised that by now then you're beyond hope. I'm aware that you've had some pretty inconsistent teachers over the years and your class time has suffered because of the so-called "curse" on this position so you haven't received the most well rounded education. Since we only have a year together I'll do my best to bring you all up to Outstanding grade N.E.W.T.'s but this will require a great deal of hard work, dedication and commitment on your part. Any questions?"
A voice from the back spoke up, a tall Ravenclaw. "Yeah, how can you teach us enough to pass N.E.W.T.'s? I mean, you're younger than we are." There were murmurs of agreement throughout the class, many worrying for their final grades this year.
The boy's tone was not mocking or scathing, only confused, and that alone stopped Harry from giving him the same treatment Draco Malfoy had received. "I know that many are worried about your final grades what with this being your last year. If I was in your shoes, I'd probably be asking the same thing. But let me ask you something. How many of you know of the Inquisition?"
Many hands went up, most belonging to those who grew up in the Wizarding World and some belonging to those who read up on the organisation the night before. "And how many of you know of the training one must go through to reach the rank of Inquisitor?"
All the hands dropped. Harry expected as much. "Then let me tell you a few things. When someone is taken in by the Inquisition they go through numerous tests. These tests are used to determine nearly everything about you. Your I.Q. is determined by a near endless amount of written tests. They check your blood to trace your ancestry to see what potential benefits your genetic history may hold. They use Legilimency to enter your mind and see what makes you tick and see if you have any natural mental defences. They lock you in a room with a Boggart to see what it is you fear most then document the findings. Your personality is assessed to see what type of person you are and what kinds of decisions you are likely to make. A multitude of medical scans are run to document every one of the illnesses you have ever suffered from the smallest cold to any genetic diseases you may carry. They put you under numerous illusions and pump you full of potions and poisons while assaulting your mind to see the strength of your will and character. These are just a few of the many tests one must go through to even be considered to serve the Inquisition but that pales in comparison to the tests one must endure to become an Inquisitor trainee."
The class hung on his every word with rapped attention, some even writing down what they were being told. This wasn't information you could just read from a book pulled from the Library. This was precious insight into the inner workings of the greatest and most secret organisation of all time. Many were shocked at the lengths the Inquisition went to for simply hiring servants and many were sickened by the invasive techniques they were hearing but their didn't understand the necessity behind it all. No one outside the Inquisition could. It was part of the reason they were so feared.
Harry's eyes looked at each of the students as he leaned against his desk, his arms folded. "The trials one must endure to become an Inquisitor trainee are some of the most trying and torturous tests anyone has even endured. These tests are not designed to help you become stronger or better. They are designed to break you. The tests are designed to push every single part of you to the breaking point. They force you to become the best. They force you to survive. Those who fail these tests either die, go mad or worse. Only the strongest, most intelligent, most resourceful trainees survive this training." His voice was quiet, his mind lost in the memories. The class sat in horrified silence.
Harry sighed and looked up at the clear sky visible through the enchanted ceiling. "Just picture this. Out of a class of a little over four hundred potentials, only ten were chosen for the training to become an Inquisitor, one of which was myself. From those ten potentials, only four survived to become Interrogators; an Inquisitor's apprentice. Two died during a training exercise when a spell one of them had cast went out of control, killing them both. One went insane and was locked away. The last report I heard about her said that she had chewed off her own fingers. The third became careless while handling a Vietnamese Mind Leech and became the vicious plant's thrall then killed four guards before she was put down. Another lost his soul when the Dementor he had Conjured went out of control and turned on him. The last was found hanging from his bunk in his dorm. We were seven years old."
Harry paced before the class. Many of the boys looked like they were going to be sick while the girls were actually crying, their soft sniffles the only sound coming from the horrified group. The thought that children had undergone such ordeals was a terrible, haunting prospect and it was almost guaranteed that a few of the more sensitive of the Seventh Years would be having nightmares tonight. What had shocked them though was Harry's reaction during his speech. His tone, while grim, remained detached. Almost…uncaring. As if the deaths of his classmates meant very little, if anything, to him. The thought made them more than a little uneasy.
They didn't know the full story though. Things had happened during the training that Harry doubted he'd ever tell anyone. Not even the instructors knew the full extent of what went on with Harry's class. With the things that had happened between him and his classmates, Harry held no love or respect for them. Hell, there had been times when he would be more than justified with killing them himself with some of the stunts they pulled.
Harry rolled his shoulder to try and work out a knot in his shoulder and stopped before the class, his face deadly serious. After a long moment he spoke. "These are the kind of things one must endure before they are entrusted with the responsibilities of an Inquisitor. An Inquisitor must be strong, both in mind and body, if they are to survive. We face some of the deadliest threats that the world has ever known, a great deal of which is kept hidden from the rest of the world for their own safety. Just like the Wizarding World would go far to keep the secret of magic from Muggles, the Inquisition would go even farther to keep it's own secrets. Many have accused us of being tyrannical, power mad murderers. This isn't true. Inquisitors are entrusted with unlimited authority because we have unlimited responsibility. We have an ongoing mission to protect the world from any threat and, while the methods some Inquisitors use can be called into question, this duty is entrusted to only the most dedicated individuals. I won't lie. There have been cases where an Inquisitor has gone too far or become lost in their own power and have been declared Heretics but fortunately these are rare occurrences."
Harry Conjured a glass of water, his throat parched after so much talking. The class were quiet as he drained the glass, lost in their own thoughts. Harry set the glass down with a satisfied sigh. Finished, he turned back to the seated teenagers before him. "I hope know that you have an idea of my training and qualifications, your fears for your education have been eased. Now, we've spent enough time talking. I'm going to Conjure dummies and I want you to attempt to non-verbally cast the Constrictor Curse…"
Later that night, Harry sat in the common room of their quarters reading a list of previous attacks by Death Eaters, listed by both date and location. Bruce was in Hogsmade for a few rounds and Patience was once more on the hunt so he was all by himself. He was almost done reading when the Perimeter Charm on the portrait that guarded the door chimed, announcing a visitor. Harry set aside the parchment and strode over to the portrait hole and opened it to see Professor McGonagall standing on the other side, as prim as always.
"Good evening, professor." Harry greeted, leaning against the wall.
"Inquisitor." She nodded. "The Headmaster has asked that I collect you and bring you to the meeting."
Harry was confused. "Meeting?"
"The first week staff meeting, Inquisitor. The first Friday after the students return is when the teachers meet to discuss the coming school year and bring up any problems." McGonagall said.
"Oh. Lead on then." Harry followed her out into the corridor and towards the Headmaster's office. He had left his coat in his room and was now clad in an open waistcoat over his shirt, the top few buttons of which were undone. Without the heavy Basilisk hide coat, you could now easily see the shoulder harness that held the underarm holster for his pistol and the Basilisk hide wand holster strapped to his left forearm. You could also see more of his strong frame without the bulky garment covering it up. His shirt stretched over his wide shoulders and his sleeves strained slightly against the muscles in his arms.
Honestly, it was the closest thing to casual McGonagall had ever seen on him. Granted this was the second day she'd seen him since he was a child but still…
"I must say," McGonagall observed as they walked through the corridors. "That was a rather…unique portrait you have guarding your quarters. I don't believe I've ever seen it around the school."
Harry smirked, knowing what she was talking about. When the Inquisitorial group arrived at Hogwarts the day before, their common room was guarded by a portrait of an old scribe who was rather irritatingly near deaf. Harry had been quick to remove the damn thing after they spent five minutes shouting the password before they could get in. Now there was a simple painting of deepest black. Even more unique was the fact that the frame was a dark iron with bolts instead of the detailed wooden frames of other portraits. Harry only told Patience and Bruce the password and only he could change it. Of course he had also added a few surprises for people who tried to enter without the proper password. Harry found it funny that the occupants of the other portraits refused to walk through the new frame, instead opting to take the long way.
"Yes well the portrait that Professor Dumbledore provided was rather deficient so I chose to replace it. I think it'll suit it purposes." Harry shrugged.
McGonagall looked slightly irritated. "The portrait's occupant seemed rather…confrontational."
Harry chuckled. "He's just dedicated to his job."
The old Scotswoman 'hmm-ed' disbelievingly but said nothing as the Gargoyle statue guarding the Headmaster's office drew near.
"Mars Bar." She said briskly.
The stone creature shifted aside and allowed them to step onto the revolving staircase as it whirled up towards the office door. Harry wouldn't admit it but he thought this particular means of getting into someone's office was rather cool. It was what inspired the staircase in his own classroom leading to his office.
Since they were expected, McGonagall ignored the Griffin head knocker and pushed the door open. The office hadn't changed at all since Harry had last visited it during the summer. Same portraits watching them. Same bookcases filled with tomes. Same little silver instruments that the old man had used to monitor Privet Drive during Harry's incarceration there although they were now moving which meant that they were keyed to another set of Wards now. It was easy to tell; Harry had the exact same instruments.
Dumbledore sat behind his impressive desk, the teachers seated before him as well as Umbridge who sat with the little check board Harry had seen her clutching nearly the whole time he'd been at the school.
"Ah, Minerva, Harry, thank you for coming." Dumbledore nodded to them, his patented gleam in his eyes. He waited for the two of them to sit before continuing. "As is tradition we meet today to discuss our latest batch of pupils and to bring up any issues which anyone has been thinking about. So, how has everyone's classes been?"
McGonagall started things off. "My classes started off as they usually do. The students are a little distracted having just come back from holiday and I have had to tell more than one person to get on with their work. Beyond that there's nothing to be said, although we have just been back for two days. I expect any problems to occur next week."
A tiny professor seated on numerous pillows tool up where McGonagall left off. "That's pretty much the same as my classes. No problems to speak of but check back next week and see."
A short but strong looking woman in grubby overalls spoke up next. This seemed to be the standard pattern. "Not much to say." She shrugged. "The most trouble we had in Herbology so far is probably when a young Hufflepuff neglected his earmuffs when we were re-potting the baby Mandrakes." She shook her head. "There's always one every year…"
A tall, pallid man with dangerously greasy looking hair spoke next, his tone conveying nothing but extreme boredom. "Somehow there have been no disasters so far this year but with the usual dunderheads that swamp the school every year I wouldn't expect it to last long. The biggest problem would have to be one of the Gryffindors who sabotaged a girl's potion. I have taken House Points and issued him a detention accordingly."
"Actually, Severus, I spoke to that particular student already as well as the girl who's concoction he knocked over. They both swear it was an accident and the girl repaired her phial and simply refilled it with another dose of her potion so there was no harm done. I restored the House Points and revoked the detention although I did deduct 5 points for carelessness." McGonagall interrupted, her eyes daring the man to challenge her.
He looked like he was going to retort but Dumbledore cut him off. "Well, let's hope that is the biggest disaster we have this year." He said with a smile before prompting the next teacher to continue.
They all reported their year so far, each as bland as the last. For a school full of rambunctious teens, Hogwarts was pretty boring so far. 'If my entire year is like this, I'll kill myself.' Harry thought, only his years in the Inquisition allowing him to keep his attention on the meeting.
When the Flying Instructor, Madam Hooch, finished her report, it was Harry's turn. The teachers looked towards their youngest and newest colleague, wondering how the week went for him. Harry stretched his legs out in front of him, working out the stiffness in them as he answered. "Nothing big to report on my end. A few minor bumps here and there." Harry shrugged.
Apparently Dumbledore had been expecting this and said, "I have been hearing stories about your classes from the other students, Harry. They seem to be the talk of the school. I was wondering if you could elaborate on them for us?"
"I can try."
"Tell us about when you assaulted one of my students." The greasy haired man shot in.
The other teacher's eyebrows rose at that and quite a few looked at Harry reprovingly.
Harry raised an eyebrow at the man. Deciding to get answers to his questions first, Harry asked, "And who might you be?"
It was Dumbledore who answered. "This is Severus Snape. He's our resident Potions Master as well as Head of Slytherin House. There is also Minerva McGonagall; out Deputy Headmistress, Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor House. Pomona Sprout, our Herbology teacher and Head of Hufflepuff House. Filius Flitwick, our Charms teacher and Head of Ravenclaw House…"
He continued around the group, introducing all the different teachers (Umbridge seemed miffed at being left out.). When all were introduced, Dumbledore brought them back to the discussion at hand. "Now that we're all acquainted, I'd also like to hear about your infamous first class, Harry."
Seeing that he wasn't going to avoid the talk without argument, Harry began. "It was my first class and I had the Sixth Year Gryffindors and Slytherins. I had just finished speaking to the class about how the next year would play out when Mr Malfoy spoke up. He asked how I would be able to teach them anything as I was, in his words, "not that strong" or a "proper Inquisitor" and that I must have been stationed here to…how did he say it again? Ah yes, "keep me out of the way of the adults". Hearing this, I chose to give Mr Malfoy a chance to test me and see if I was able to teach the class, a test which he failed."
"You Cursed him then proceeded to strangle him!" Snape accused, causing some of the other teachers to gasp.
"I Disarmed him then subdued him, Severus." Harry corrected.
"Harry, you should not have done that." Dumbledore said disappointedly. "If young Mr Malfoy was causing a disturbance then you should have given him a detention and spoken to his Head of House. Physical violence will solve nothing."
Harry smirked. "I don't know, by the look on his face he's not likely to do it again anytime soon."
"That doesn't matter. If you use such heavy handed methods then the people will perceive you as some kind of a loose cannon." Albus warned.
Harry snorted. "You'll find that I care very little for how the masses perceive me, Dumbledore. Let them think what they want to think."
Dumbledore wasn't going to let this go however. "Harry, part of the reason your identity was decided was so that the Wizarding population would feel safer and more reassured. If you start displaying Dark tendencies then many may feel uncomfortable with your part in the war."
Harry laughed loudly. "You think that was Dark? Believe me, I've seen Dark and what happened in the classroom could be considered extremely Light compared to that. Remember, Dumbledore, there is no Light or Dark, only magic and how one uses it."
Dumbledore's face drained of colour, becoming as white as his beard before he managed to force it into a neutral expression. Harry's words were eerily reminiscent of Voldemort's favourite philosophy, "There is no good and evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it.".
He took a steadying breath. "That…is a very disturbing way of thinking, Harry. It is our actions who define who we are. If you do not start displaying some restraint then I fear you may fall down a path from which there is no return."
Harry looked unconcerned. "I have restraint; I wouldn't be an Inquisitor if I didn't. What I lack is patience to deal with coddled sheep who don't understand what it means to fight a war. Just because the public doesn't want to acknowledge the ugliness of the real world doesn't mean I'll go out of my way to dance to their tune. I'll do my job in the manner I deem appropriate and it no one like it then too bad."
"I think we're getting a little off topic here." McGonagall interrupted the impending debate before turning to Harry. "But I would also like to hear about this famed first class."
Harry shrugged and continued. "After the incident with Mr Malfoy, I then proceeded with the lesson. The topic was the Unforgivables, their effects and the punishment for using them. I Conjured a spider then placed it under each of the three Curses before Vanishing it. By the time I was done the class was over."
"You performed the Unforgivables in front of students!?" Umbridge screeched and for once the other teachers looked to be in agreement with her, even McGonagall.
Dumbledore was deeply concerned by this revelation. If Harry was actively using the Unforgivables then what would that mean for his alignment? There was a high probability that if Harry would use spells as Dark as the Unforgivables then he could also possibly use other, more insidious practices as well. If so, then he could become a far greater threat than Voldemort ever was. That could not happen. Harry would need careful guidance to ensure he remained a child of the Light. "That is some very disconcerting news, Harry. Using the Unforgivables would only lead you to ruin. I sincerely hope that you don't make it a habit to use spells of their calibre regularly?"
Harry knew the old man was trying to sway him to his own far more passive way of thinking but was having none of it. "Headmaster, not that it's really any of your business, but as it so happens the Unforgivables are some of the most basic required spells we are taught in the Inquisition. If you couldn't perform them then it was guaranteed that you wouldn't be able to handle the rest of the training. They are to the Inquisition what Stunners are to you and as such are some of the most basic but necessary tools in our arsenal." Seeing that Dumbledore was gearing up for another 'purity' debate, Harry cut him off. "We're not here to discuss the Inquisition so let's continue. Does anyone else have any questions regarding my class?"
"I do as a matter of fact." The tiny Professor Flitwick squeaked up. "Is there any reason why two of my Seventh Year girls had to receive Calming Draughts after bursting into the Hospital Wing in tears after your class today?"
That actually caused Harry to grimace. "I'm sorry for that. I was trying to waylay the concerns the Seventh Years were feeling over having someone as young as myself teaching them and I admit I may have revealed some of the Inquisition's more brutal teaching methods. I tried to play it down enough as to not startle some of the more sensitive students. Obviously I failed. I'm sorry Professor."
Flitwick nodded in acceptance. "After taking their potions they calmed down and I had a talk with them after dismissing them from classes for the day. Just do me a favour and try to be a little more tactful in future?"
"I'll do my best." Harry said sincerely and he meant it too. He didn't usually have to deal with people as emotional as teenagers or children what with most of the circles he ran in being comprised of battle hardened warriors and deranged criminals. He glanced towards the clock and saw that he needed to end this meeting now. He stood from his chair while saying to Dumbledore, "If you'll excuse me, I'm afraid I need to take my leave. I have an important matter to attend to at the Ministry and I need to get there before it closes."
Dumbledore looked like he wanted to say more to Harry but reluctantly nodded before Harry turned and left.
He walked through the castle, passing Filch and his cat, before making it back to the Inquisitorial group's lodgings. As he came within range of the Black Portrait guarding the rooms there was movement.
From within the darkness of the painting, a low red light sparked to life. The light grew and flowed until the painting's occupant stood before Harry. A red demon made of light stood guard over the entrance, the thing's entire body edged in light making it seem like some deranged silhouette. Ridges and spines dotted it's illuminated exoskeleton and a pair of burning red eyed shone from beneath a pair of great curved horns. The whole effect was a rather imposing to say the least.
"Password." The monster rasped in a haunting duel-toned voice stuck somewhere between man and beast. If Harry hadn't created the painting himself and therefore knew everything there was to know about it the creature would have sent a chill down his spine.
"Pain is an illusion of the senses, despair an illusion of the mind." Harry intoned. Given the nature of his work, the resourcefulness of his enemies and the natural paranoia that came with being a Dark Wizard hunter, Harry chose to forgo passwords for pass phrases taken directly from the dogma of the Inquisition training manuals. Only those inside the Inquisition would know them and even then there were thousands of such phrases and quotes that would make simply guessing the password virtually impossible.
Recognising the password, the demonic portrait slung open to admit it's creator and Harry promptly stepped into the common room. It appeared that neither Patience nor Bruce had returned yet so Harry left them a quick note explaining his absence. He then swung his coat around his shoulders and grabbed his cane before walking over to the large fireplace and grabbing a pinch of the green powder from the small urn on the mantle. With Wards and runes being two of his chosen specialities, it was rather simple to slip his own private, secure Floo route from inside the castle. The Wards around the old school were extremely old and strong but not invincible. With age comes ware and with how long the Hogwarts Wards had gone without a recharge, it proved rather easy to slip a route out and set up a few security procedures along the way. Thankfully while it was easy for a master Wardsmith to burrow a way out of Hogwarts, it was infinitely more difficult to try to bore their way inside, bordering on the impossible.
With this knowledge in mind, Harry tossed the magical powder into the flames a moment before following while saying, "Ministry of Magic Atrium."
Numerous fireplaces flashed before his eyes before he stepped out into the large main reception of the Ministry of Magic. Pausing momentarily to lighten his hair to a more chestnut colour and change his eyes to a stormy grey while concealing his scar, Harry marched towards the lifts with a purpose. He managed to catch one just as it emptied and pressed the button before anyone else could get in with him.
The second the doors clattered closed, Harry went to work. His cane shrunk in his hand until it was the size of a toothpick which was then placed safely in one of his inner coat pockets. Reaching into his sleeve, he withdrew his wand, grasping it firmly in his hand. There was a good chance Riddle would have his people watching this particular section of the Ministry and if so then he would be prepared.
Tapping the wand to his head once, Harry cast a powerful Disillusionment Charm followed by a Notice-Me-Not Charm rendering him almost completely invisible to all but the most attentive viewers. He had just finished when the doors slid open once more, a soothing female voice announcing the floor.
"Level Nine: The Department of Mysteries."
Harry slid from the lift silent as a spectre, staying close to the walls as he stealthily made his way into the Department. It was deathly silent but his steps made not a sound, his breathing calm and controlled. He slipped from shadow to shadow, never seeing or hearing any sound other than his own shallow breathing. It wasn't long before he reached the door he was looking for.
He cracked the door open a touch and peeked through into a circular room with a dozen doors identical to the one he was looking through arraigned around the wall. He stepped through, closing the door behind him.
The second it snapped shut, everything shifted. The walls revolved at blurring speed, the doors forming a single black bar as the walls spun. Harry calmly waited for them to stop before reaching into his coat and pulling from it his rosette. He approached the door directly in front of him and grasped the handle then tapped the rosette with the tip of his wand and from the bottom slid a small skeleton key. Harry slid the badge-cum-key into the lock and gave it a twist, hearing a satisfying click.
He opened the door enough to see through into the room beyond, his sharp eyes scanning area. The room was long and rectangular, lit by lamps hung low on golden chains from the ceiling. The room was fairly bare save for a few desks surrounding an enormous tank in the centre of the room. The tank was filled with a deep green liquid in which swam what looked like a number of giant brains. 'Stray Thoughts.' Harry observed idly, having recognised the creatures from his studies.
Not finding what he was looking for, Harry closed the door but this time the room did not move. One of the special features of a rosette is it's ability to act as a skeleton key for nearly any and every kind of lock there is, providing the Inquisitor with near unlimited access to wherever he needs to go. Mentally marking the door's position, Harry moved onto the next one and cracked it open a bit.
The first thing to register was the ticking. Alone, the sound of a clock ticking might be normal, if a little annoying after a while, but the sheer amount of ticks made the room give off a near deafening crescendo that made it hard to concentrate. The second thing that registered was the beautiful, dancing sparkled light that illuminated the room, revealing the cause of the noise to be a completely inordinate amount of clocks that adorned nearly every surface available. At the far end of the room was a giant bell jar that seemed to contain a swirling wind through which flew a tiny hummingbird. Harry watched as it flew upwards in the jar, getting bigger and more mature as it ascended before it seemed to grow old and fall towards the ground only to be encased in an egg from which a baby hummingbird once more took flight. Off to one side was a glass fronted case filled with hourglasses in various sizes. 'This must be the Time Room.'
Third time proved to be lucky when the next door he opened led into a large, cavernous chamber filled with row upon row of shelves upon which sat thousands of glass spheres filled with a mystical blue substance.
'Bingo.' Harry thought victoriously. He slipped inside, silently closing the door behind him. His eyes scanned the numerous shelves. The small plaque on the side of the shelf pronounced that he now stood between rows 56 and 57. The question was, how was he going to find what he was looking for in all this?
A noise caught his notice and he slipped backwards into the shadows as an old hunched man clad in heavy robes designed to ward off the cold of the room shuffled from on of the aisles, his nose buried in a thick tome. He muttered to himself as he walked, his gnarled finger sliding down the pages, obviously looking for something.
Deciding not to let a good opportunity go to waste, Harry waited until the man hobbled past and levelled his wand at his back. "Imperio." The young soldier mumbled inaudibly.
The second the spell hit him, the man went slack, the heavy tome falling from his loose fingers. Harry's wand gave a twitch and the book landed silently. Another twitch and a Privacy Field encased the man as Harry moved up behind him, his green eyes scanning the darkness for any movement.
"What's your name?" Harry asked him.
"Whilimont Belbuam." The old man croaked, his eyes unfocused.
"What's your occupation?"
"I'm the Curator for the Hall of Prophesy in the Department of Mysteries but I'm commonly known as an Unspeakable."
"Is there anyone else here tonight?"
"No, everyone leaves early on a Friday but I stay late. I like the quiet."
"So the only people in this Department are me and you?"
"Yes."
"Good, good. Do you know the location of all the Prophesies in this room?"
"Yes."
"Where is the Prophesy for Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort?"
Even under Harry's complete control, the man still managed a shudder and a whimper at the name. "R-Row 97."
"Thank you. Now, Whilimont, I want you to take your book and go to the bathroom and don't come back for ten minutes. When you walk away from here you'll forget we ever had this conversation or that anyone was ever here, understood?"
"Yes."
"Then go." Harry removed the Privacy Field and watched Belbaum pick up his heavy book and trot off down the Hall before vanishing around one of the shelves. When he was out of sight, Harry swept down the rows of shelves as quiet as death itself, his eyes counting off the aisles until he reached number 97. His eyes scanned the rows of spheres until he saw the one he wanted.
S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.
Dark Lord
And (?) Harry Potter
"Come to Papa." Harry muttered with a slight smile. He knew that the protections on the Prophesies meant that only those they were created for could touch them. Even the Wizard who put up the protections couldn't remove them after they had gone up. He fished around in his pocket for a moment before withdrawing a sphere identical to the one before him which contained a little message from him to Tom should the Dark Lord manage to penetrate the Ministry again. Biting his tongue, Harry reached out, his hand hovering over the real Prophesy and with cat like speed, swapped the real one for the fake. He held his breath for a moment, waiting to see if any giant boulders came rumbling after him but apparently that only happened in Indiana Jones films because no such trap was triggered.
Harry grinned and tucked the Prophesy safely away in his pocket. It would have to be destroyed soon and in a way that would prove impossible for Riddle to recover. He had a few ideas of how to go about it, each more spectacular and overdramatic than the last.
His task complete, he left the Department of Mysteries as silently as he came.
Many miles away, concealed behind some of the strongest, deadliest and most obscure Wards around lay a expansive manor house surrounded by vast grounds filled with neatly trimmed hedges, bubbling fountains and paved paths. It was bordered on all sides by a tall perimeter wall built to withstand intense physical and magical assaults. The design was early Victorian in nature with every ledge, balcony and arch speaking of the profound worth of the owner. The interior was no different and I possible, even grander. Hardwood floors polished to a mirror sheen lay covered by lush Persian rugs of deep red. The walls were a light cream with varnished wooden borders and the fixtures were made of the finest silver available. Expensive artworks dotted the walls and small ornate tables arranged in the long corridors held exquisitely carved statues and other collector's pieces. With three floors, a large wine cellar, wide ballrooms and many more wonderful additions, the manor was truly a marvel.
Not exactly the place you'd expect to serve as the command centre of a group of sadistic, murderous Dark Wizards.
In the centre of the largest, and therefore most magnificent, ballroom sat a large throne carved from deep black wood with a high back and overstuffed cushions that looked completely out of place amongst the grandeur of the rest of the house. The tormented skulls that were carved into the wood had magically enchanted wooden snakes that would slither through empty sockets and out of silently screaming jaws and made the thing look like a seat fit for Lucifer himself.
And perched on this grotesque piece of furniture sat a creature that had once been called man but had become twisted and mutated in his quest to gain immortality.
Lord Voldemort, once known as the charming but reclusive Tom Riddle, sat with his chin propped up on his fist, his crimson orbs gazing out of the large windows into the black night beyond the glass.
He had changed since his rebirth. Once he was naught but a shadow before the rat Wormtail found him and, with much guidance from Voldemort himself, created for the Dark Lord a stunted Homunculus body to inhabit which was sustained through a mix of Unicorn blood and milk from his faithful Nagini. When his plans came to fruition at the apex of the TriWizard Tournament, Voldemort had finally regained his true form but was weak and emancipated from the rigours of the rebirthing process. He had been skinny and tired easily but a few months had changed that.
What was once frail and weak was now strong and powerful. He had gained more weight and muscle mass and no longer looked like a strong gust of wind could break him in half. Despite being in his seventies his body was as strong as it had been in his prime, if not more so. Underneath his midnight black robes he wore armour cut from an ancient Hungarian Horntail that had been many centuries old and had absorbed much magic from the old reptile.
As he stared out into the night his mind worked tirelessly. His thoughts ranged from plans for attacks to ideas on how to undermine the Ministry and so forth but the biggest matter that had been revolving in the twisted mind of Tom Riddle was the news he had read in the Daily Prophet a day before.
Harry Potter.
It was a name that meant much to the powerful Wizard. A special boy; a Prophesised child, it was young Harry that had lead to his downfall all those years ago. He had sought to remove the one threat to his rule and hunted the Potter family down to their home in Godric's Hollow after being informed of their location by the turncoat Wormtail. Upon arrival he had immediately dispatched Potter Sr. after a short confrontation. He had followed the child's wailing upstairs where the young Mudblood Evans had attempted to barricade the door.
He had quickly done away with those defences and in moments was stood before the woman who in turn stood before her son, shielding him from harm. She had begged and pleaded for her son's life, offering her own instead even after he warned her to move. Growing tired of her pleas, he done away with her with a point blank Killing Curse before advancing on the boy.
He thought it would have been so easy. Just a few syllables and then his rule would be cemented forever. He had not, however, counted on the resourcefulness of Lily Potter. For a Mudblood the girl possessed a sharp mind. Her sacrifice had ensured that her offspring was protected by ancient magics that he himself had not foreseen. The powerful protections turned his Curse back on him and he fled, wounded and weak.
He had been pretty out of touch during his exile in Albania so he hadn't heard the news but fortunately Wormtail filled him in on everything that had happened during his absence.
He had honestly been shocked by the news that the Boy-Who-Lived as they were apparently calling him was missing presumed dead. The one person who had presented the biggest threat to him had simply vanished, gone like smoke in the wind. Te be honest he felt a little cheated.
But now everything was different. Word had reached him both from that rag the Prophet and the sons of his loyal Death Eaters. Harry was alive but that wasn't even the most shocking part. He was not only alive but a fully fledged Inquisitor even at the tender age of sixteen which spoke much of the skill and power he must wield to be able to join that elite cadre of hunters. Voldemort had mixed feelings about this. On one hand he was eager to see how powerful Harry really was and on the other he was admittedly the tiniest bit anxious, though he would kill anyone who dared insinuate it.
He had fought Inquisitors during his previous rise to power and he freely admitted that they were formidable opponents. If young Harry was as powerful as he appeared to be at this age, what kind of a threat did he pose?
He was broken from his inner musings by the sound of the large double doors opening and his gaze slid from the window to the black robed from making it's way towards him. The Death Eater stopped ten feet from the foot of the throne on bended knee where he removed his skull faced mask and lay it before him.
"Ah, welcome home, Severus." Voldemort greeted his slippery spy. "I trust you bring me news?"
"Yes, my Lord." Snape said, keeping his black eyes on the base of the throne. "I haven't heard much from the Order meetings but there have been some developments. Apparently the guarding of the Prophesy has been cut back now that the Ministry is aware of your return as Dumbledore believes that you wouldn't dare attack now. There is also talks about inducting new--"
"Severus," Riddle's cold voice stopped him dead. The vicious Dark Lord clasped his hands and leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees as he stared down at his servant who had gone very still. "We both know what it is I what to know about so I suggest you stop stalling before I lose my patience."
Though his tone hadn't changed, Snape shuddered at the threat and quickly gave in. "My Lord, as you already know the Potter brat has been brought in to defend the school and teach the students."
"Yes, I am aware of this." Voldemort nodded as he stood. Snape tensed as the pale man began to circle him, his arms folded across his armoured chest and his red eyes burning into Snape's greasy skull. "What is he like, Severus? What is his personality like? How does he carry himself? Tell me of Harry Potter."
Snape was quick to oblige. "My Lord, he seems rather self-assured and every bit as arrogant as his father."
"Of course, you would say that about anyone of Potter stock." Voldemort observed with a smirk.
Snape continued. "Up until now I haven't seen him fight but I have seen him carrying a Muggle weapon and he is often in the company of a Vampire and even a Muggle."
Voldemort's hairless eyebrows shot up at that. "A Muggle? How could he have brought one of those things onto Hogwarts grounds without triggering the Wards?" He mused to himself.
"I'm not sure, my Lord, but there is more. He promises to refortify the school in the coming months and I suspect he also plans to secure Azkaban."
"What about Dumbledore?" Voldemort asked. "What's their relationship like?"
Snape actually smirked at this. "I've not seen the two interact much but from what I have seen it appears that they don't quite see eye to eye."
"How so?"
"After an incident during Potter's first class, Dumbledore raised concerns over the boy's way of thinking. The Potter brat doesn't seem to want to conform to Dumbledore's pacifistic thinking and this worries him."
"What kind of incident are we talking about exactly?" Voldemort asked, intrigued.
Snape's smirk grew. "Potter used the three Unforgivables in front of a Sixth Year class and seems to have no qualms about killing."
Voldemort stopped dead in surprise, his arms falling to his sides. He blinked a few times before a chuckle slid from his mouth and it wasn't long before it evolved into full blown laughter. When he finally managed to get himself under control, Voldemort shoot his head, an amused smile on his slit of a mouth. "So the Light's praised saviour is a killer. I doubt Dumbledore liked that."
"He was deeply concerned by it."
"I'll bet." Riddle murmured as he retook his seat, his face still holding some bemusement. The room was quiet as he processed this information, turning it over in his head as plans formed and took shape. "Severus, go and fetch Bella, Lucius and the others. We have plans to make."
"My Lord?" Snape asked, confused.
Voldemort smirked. "It has been sixteen years since Harry and I last saw each other. Now is as good as any time to catch up."
BOOYAH! The action is coming up soon and Tom wants to meet Harry. What can this mean!? Read and review and I might tell you.
P.S. Someone pointed out that with the large amount of people taking DADA that there would be more than one Sixth Year class and I agree so I'm going to go back and change it so that it's Slytherins and Gryffindors then Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.