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Chapter Three—Gift of Shadows

Harry sighs and closes another book. He's looked in all the books in the library that seem plausible for information about shadow magic. He can't find anything. As far as Hogwarts is concerned, he doesn't exist.

He's been into the Restricted Section, but honestly, they don't have very interesting books in there. Just ones about painful magic, torture curses, Dark Arts, and the like. Harry isn't that interested in Dark magic. The absence of light makes it impossible for his shadows to go anywhere.

Like that third-floor corridor that Dumbledore announced was off-limits. Harry thought it would be interesting to explore, but there's only one torch near the entrance, and nothing else. He got a few meters into the corridor and saw a huge oaken door banded with iron. But it must be absolutely dark under or behind that door, because he can't reach any further.

Harry yawns and leaves the library. He has a fair way to go back to the dungeons, and he's tired enough that he doesn't want to just pop through the shadows. His aim is always bad when he's tired, and he's come too near to being discovered a few times.

But his tiredness fades away when he hears laughter, the same kind he used to hear from Dudley whenever he and his friends had cornered someone. Harry wraps softness around himself and crosses to the opposite side of the corridor he's in.

Malfoy and those two huge lumps that are always following him around are taunting a first-year Gryffindor. After some squinting, Harry recognizes him as Neville Longbottom. He honestly only knows that because Snape berates him so much that it catches Harry's attention even when he tries to dream through class.

"Why don't you go home, Longbottom?" Malfoy asks. He swaggers a little even though he stands in place. Harry would be more impressed if he hadn't seen Dudley do the same thing more than once. "Everyone knows you're a Squib. You don't belong here. What do you even do besides blow up Professor Snape's cauldrons?"

The lumps laugh on cue. Longbottom shivers. "I—I'm good at Herbology," he says, in a voice so soft Harry wouldn't hear it if he wasn't this close.

"That's not enough, Longbottom!" Malfoy shoves him, and Longbottom knocks his head against a wall. "What do you think you're doing here? Imitating real wizards and annoying them?"

Harry wouldn't normally intervene, but everything about this scene could come straight from his past. Malfoy as Dudley, the laughing friends, the way that the victim tries to actually answer the question and only makes things worse when he does. Harry learned better at a young age, but none of the boys here ever did.

It doesn't take Harry long to decide what to do. Stepping into sight will only make things worse. He forms the shadow along the left side of the wall and the one high on the right side of the corridor into wolves instead, and has them loom silently over Malfoy and his gang.

The lump on the right—Harry thinks it's called Crabbe—is the one who sees them first. He pokes Malfoy in the side and stutters out, "W-w-were—"

"Where what, Crabbe? Is it a prefect?" Malfoy turns around, and so he's the one who notices the wolves next. Longbottom's mouth is perfectly open and perfectly round, though, so he might have seen them earlier than Harry thought.

Malfoy laughs nervously a second later. "Those aren't werewolves, Crabbe," he says, and makes his voice echo loudly down the corridor. "They're just somebody playing shadow puppet tricks." He takes a step towards the wolf lying crouched along the floor, and raises his voice. "Come on! Show yourself! You'll get in trouble picking on the heir to the House of Malfoy!"

Harry forms a part of the tail of the wolf on the wall into an arrow and points down the corridor. Longbottom runs away at full speed.

Which is good, since Harry thinks the little boy is too timid to see what happens next.

Harry makes the wolves stand and flow towards Malfoy and his lumps. Malfoy takes one step back, then folds his arms. "They're shadows, they can't hurt you—"

The wolf that's formed from the wall leaps down and grabs Malfoy. Malfoy screams as the teeth close on his arm. Harry grins. He's not going to have the wolf hurt Malfoy, much. Just enough pain to make up for slamming Longbottom's head into the wall.

So the teeth crunch down, and Malfoy screams again, and Harry pulls back into the shadows and wraps himself up and leaps to the Slytherin common room after all. It won't be careful and cautious to be outside when Snape comes looking for him.

This time, he slips in through the door with the password like anyone else. Even so, he can see Theodore's eyes on him, bright and knowing.

When Malfoy limps in with a torn robe and babbling about wolves that came to life and try to eat people, Theodore looks at Harry. Harry is innocently occupied with his History book.

It doesn't keep Snape from assigning him detention because he thinks Harry must be behind every time his favorite gets in trouble, but at least Harry knows Malfoy can't prove it. And neither can Snape. And neither can Theodore, even though he stares at Harry the next morning when Longbottom is telling his story in whispers, about how the shadows came to life and saved him.

Harry continues to ignore Theodore's sly glances. And the way he calls Harry "my lord." It's exasperating, but Theodore likes to be that way. It doesn't mean anything.


"Mr. P-Potter, st-stay b-behind after cl-class."

Harry turns around and waits semi-patiently for Professor Quirrell to finish whatever he wants. The man has been the most useless professor Harry has. Snape seems to know how to teach other people, even though Harry's given up on learning from the idiot. Quirrell just babbles about vampires and smells of garlic and sends people into giggling with his stutter.

Theodore and Dean, surprisingly, are standing near the door still, although they act like they're ignoring each other to focus on Harry. Harry shakes his head at them before the professor shuts the door.

"Now, Mr. Potter," Quirrell says, and interestingly loses the stutter the instant they're alone, "I notice that you're barely trying with the spells in class."

Harry nods. "Yes, sir," he adds, when Quirrell glares at him like he wants a verbal answer.

"Why, Mr. Potter?"

"Most of them don't seem very interesting," Harry tells him. He would tell any other professor the same thing, and be honest, but none of them are intent on asking him. He writes good essays, and he can do the simple spells in Transfiguration and Charms, and working on basic Herbology is a breeze after years tending Aunt Petunia's garden. Everyone except Snape has seemed pleased with him up until this point.

Quirrell blinks. Then he asks, "Why not, Mr. Potter? Some of those spells could protect you from vampires and other Dark creatures."

"I looked them up in the library, sir," Harry says. And he did, when he was sneaking into the Restricted Section and looking for books on shadow magic. "There are better shield charms than the ones you're teaching us. I've been learning those."

"Have you indeed, Mr. Potter. Frangere!"

"Protego!"

The Shield Charm doesn't work as well as the books describe. Harry is still learning it, after all. But a spark in the air deflects Quirrell's Bone-Breaking Curse and lets Harry duck out of the way. Quirrell is watching him with a faint smile when he stands again.

"Just because you are more powerful than other first-years is no reason not to pay attention in class, Mr. Potter. I expect more of you after Christmas." Quirrell puts his wand away like nothing happened. "Perhaps you will, after all, provide more of a challenge than I was expecting."

That doesn't make a lot of sense. Harry keeps one eye on Professor Quirrell as he opens the door of the classroom and goes out to rejoin Theodore and Dean. They immediately close in around him. Quirrell is giving him a nasty smile when Harry glances back.

"What did he want?" Dean asks.

"He said that he noticed I wasn't make a whole lot of effort in class."

"Well, he's right," says Theodore.

Harry shrugs. "Most of the spells we're learning are boring. That's what I told him. I looked up stronger shield spells in the library. So he tried out a spell on me, and I countered it. And then he told me that he wants to see better effort from me after Christmas." It still feels odd to tell the truth to people so often, but Theodore and Dean mostly tell it to him, so Harry's resigned.

"What spell did he send at you?"

"The Bone-Breaking Curse."

Dean splutters. Theodore stops and looks at Harry. "And you deflected it?"

Harry shakes his head. "The shield didn't form all the way. Enough to turn it aside, not enough to work the way the books said it should."

"That still makes you really powerful, mate," Dean mutters. "Think you could teach me to do that?"

"Maybe," Harry says. He frowns a little. "If it didn't work the way it should for me, then I don't know if it would work for you."

"Even learning a bit of a shield would make a big difference," Dean insists. "I don't think I could deflect vampires the way Quirrell is always going on about. And the Body-Bind is only useful if you can cast it, which I can't."

Harry thinks about it, then says, "Okay." It's true that he has more free time than the other students who always have something going on, whether that's gossiping with friends or playing Gobstones or Quidditch or learning to see over their noses, the way Malfoy hasn't mastered yet. "You want to meet after dinner?"

Dean nods, and then speeds up to go to lunch because he complains that Harry and Theodore are "walking too slow." Theodore continues to walk slowly, but he does say, "You'd be willing to teach Thomas a spell like that? Mighty brave of you."

"Why? I already know it myself, and I'll keep working on it. It's not like he can use it to hurt me, even. It's purely a defensive spell."

"You know what some of our Housemates would say about you teaching a Gryffindor. Even some of Thomas's mates."

"It's a good thing that's not their business, isn't it?"

Theodore laughs, long and low. Then he glances sideways at Harry and asks, "Do you want to come home with me for Christmas? Father's agreeable, as long as we don't make too much noise. He invents experimental potions, so he needs peace and quiet."

Harry blinks, utterly surprised. He's never had someone invite him anywhere before. After thinking about it, he shakes his head. "No, thanks, Theodore. I'd like to meet your dad sometime, but I want to take this holiday to really work on my potions. Snape is useless at teaching me."

"Father could help you with those."

"I thought you just said he needed peace and quiet."

"Teaching is different. The only student he's had for ten years is me, and he's already taught me everything I want to learn. Professor Snape is actually better for me because he can tell me the rules for regular potions. Father is only interested in experimental ones."

Harry thinks some more about that. Well, it's true that he won't get anything out of Snape at all, and experimental potions sound more fun working with somebody than laboring endlessly over the ones that are in their book after a class when he can't do them. "All right. Thanks, Theodore."

Theodore's eyes flash with the kind of triumph that Dudley used to have when he persuaded someone to come beat up Harry, but Harry ignores that. Theodore can't hurt him and hasn't tried. "Thank you, my lord."

"Someday, you're going to say that in front of the wrong person and they're going to misunderstand and it'll get you in trouble."

"I'll take my chances."

Harry shakes his head. Yes, Theodore will. One thing Harry's already noticed about him is how far he'll go for a joke, like calling Harry "my lord" or telling other people that Harry is his only friend, when he talks to other people in their House and acts perfectly calm and friendly around Dean. Well, the jokes don't bother Harry, much, so he can just keep making them.


Professor Snape pulls Harry aside the day before the Christmas holidays are set to begin. "I understand that you did not sign up to stay here, Potter. But I know you aren't going home to your family."

"No, I'm not," Harry agrees. "I'm going to visit with Theodore and his father."

"You mean that you intend to continue your shameful program of cheating off of Mr. Nott." Snape draws himself up with a sneer that looks like all the others have been practice for it. "I will not stand for it, Mr. Potter. I have been to visit your family. I know your secrets. You are a liar and a thief. And you will stay here at Hogwarts where I can keep an eye on you."

Harry smiles a little. Well, here's a chance to test his power over Snape. "And I know your secret, Professor. The one that you have in the corner of your bedroom? If you don't let me go visit Theodore, then I'll tell the school."

It's hilarious to watch how fast Snape loses color; it's like watching him bleed. He leans on the wall for a second, and then straightens up and shakes his head. "You cannot possibly—"

"You have a picture of my mother," Harry says calmly. It took him a bit to figure out it was his mum, since he's never seen a picture of her, but the eyes were a huge clue. And it turns out that Snape has her name written all over these love letters that form part of the shrine, too. "You have candles lit to her. You have dozens of pleas for forgiveness written to her." He waits, then adds, "How would students react to know that the big bad Professor Snape is still in mourning over a woman who died ten years ago? That he's like a schoolboy with a crush?"

Professor Snape breathes and stares at him. Harry smiles back. Finally, Snape flings his door open and snarls, "Get out. I will not interfere with your going to Mr. Nott's house."

Harry nods at him and departs. It's good that he didn't need to reveal this particular secret so soon. That gives him power in the future without having to find out another secret of Snape's.

And now he gets to go with Theodore, and spend what he hopes is a perfectly nice holiday.


It does turn out to be a perfectly nice holiday, somewhat to Harry's surprise. Aethelred, as he tells Harry to call him, is an older man with a white mustache and eyes that seem to look past Harry into the distance. But he is great at experimental potions, and he has to explain enough simple stuff when Harry asks him questions that Harry knows he'll go back to Hogwarts with a better idea of how to crush, dice, and cut up ingredients, and when to use his wand to start the flame, and which potions can't have magic used anywhere near them.

It's nice to be in a huge house that no one minds him being in, either. Harry and Theodore explorer the manor's mostly empty rooms, do some potions in the lab under Aethelred's watchful eye, fly brooms above the withered Quidditch pitch, do holiday homework, and relax in front of a huge fire with hot chocolate that has marshmallows in it. Harry never got to have it before. He sees why Dudley likes it.

And Theodore talks.

He tells Harry that his mum is dead, which is something Harry knew already but didn't pay much attention to. He tells him about learning potions from a young age, learning to read on his own because his father didn't think he was interesting until he did, getting his first practice wand at the age of seven, ordering house-elves around, and going to Diagon Alley whenever he wanted.

Harry listens, and listens, and he understands. Theodore is telling him secrets without Harry having to even use the shadows to find out anything. He's starved for someone to listen to him.

They're friends, so Harry can. It's kind of nice.

Theodore's dad is a good Potions teacher, but Theodore is right that he isn't much of anything else. Harry thinks it possible that Theodore was abused, too, just not as much as Harry was. Being ignored sounds like heaven to Harry, but not when it's your magical parent instead of your Muggle aunt and uncle doing it.

So Harry listens, and pries into a secret of Aethelred's in case he has to use it someday, and enjoys his holiday for the first time ever. When Theodore gets him a Christmas gift of a book on Dark Lords that Harry couldn't find in the Restricted Section or Diagon Alley, Harry laughs. "You really are committed to this joke," he says, flipping through it. "You realize there's nothing about Voldemort in here?"

"I didn't get it because I think that you'll have to fight Voldemort someday."

"Right, right, I should model myself on the Dark Lords in here and take over the world."

Theodore lowers his eyes demurely. "There could," he says, "be worse ambitions."

Harry rolls his eyes and practically throws his own gift at Theodore. "Open that and go play with it for a while."

Theodore seems stunned when he opens it to find the warded wand holster that Harry saw him eyeing on one of their trips to Diagon Alley. "Harry, how did you—you didn't even—how did you get this?"

"I went into the shop and bought it." Harry is discovering that he has his own sense of humor that involves telling the truth, the way he did when the Gryffindors asked him why he was in Slytherin.

Theodore shoots him a dirty glance that doesn't last long; he can't keep his eyes off the holster. "Pure white dragonhide," he says reverently. "You know this came from an Antipodean Opaleye?"

"I know. There's a little pamphlet the shop gave me with the holster. I think it's in the wrapping somewhere."

Theodore doesn't look for it. "And the wards will prevent anyone from Summoning or damaging my wand," he says, and looks straight at Harry. The look in his eye is different this time from most times in the past when he joked with Harry. "Thank you, my lord."

Harry shrugs. But he's smiling as he does it. He discovers that he likes making friends happy with the gifts he can give. He hopes Dean is happy with the book on Quidditch Harry sent him, even though it was cheaper than the holster. "You're welcome."


The rest of the school year is honestly pretty quiet. Harry heard rumors of a troll in the school at one point last term, but it turned out to be the imagination of a couple of drunken seventh-years. Malfoy doesn't bully Longbottom anymore, and spends his time staring nervously into shadows. Harry makes a shadow-snake follow him around at one point until he cracks and goes screaming for Professor Snape. It's worth the (totally justified, not that he can know it) detention Professor Snape gives him. He teaches Dean and Theodore the Shield Charm and gets better at it himself. Defense Against the Dark Arts is a bit more interesting with Professor Quirrell casting rougher spells at him all the time.

And one day, Harry wanders into the Headmaster's office and finds no one there, not even the phoenix, and plenty of shadows.

Harry promptly manifests and looks around. He can't see any alarm wards on the bookshelves, and given the amount of shadows falling over them, he would have dared it even if he could. He goes over and scans them for a few seconds, trying to pick out either the fattest or the most interesting book by title.

There's one! Secrets of the Darkest Art. The title does seem to be about darkness and not shadows, but Harry knows this is one he didn't see in the Restricted Section. He picks up the book and shakes it back and forth. No alarms go off and no spiders fall out of the pages. Harry disappears back into the shadows with it, well-satisfied.

He makes sure to only read the book when he's alone in either the least well-lit corner of the library or in his bed in the Slytherin dorms with his curtains shut tight. Parts of it aren't that interesting, just a lot of muttering about how powerful darkness is and how you can get the most power out of eating your enemies' hearts and things like that. Harry is not impressed. Eating hearts looks messy and gross.

But there's a part that's really interesting, when it's discussing the side-effects from something called a Horcrux that involves splitting your soul and sticking it in objects. The murder to split your soul also look messy and disgusting, but Harry is fascinated by the list of side-effects. They include changes to the face, the reddening of the eyes, the skin shifting so it looks like the scales of a snake or the skin of a frog, and—

Power over shadows.

It's just one line, and it doesn't describe it further than that. It also says that not everyone who creates a Horcrux has this, any more than all of them have red eyes. It's just a list of possible side-effects and goes on to talk in more detail about the Horcrux creation process that Harry skips over.

Harry lies in bed thinking that night, and nodding as the ideas come into his head. Yes, he knows that Voldemort has red eyes, and he thinks he remembers that from his nightmare as well as reading the descriptions of him. So Voldemort probably made a Horcrux, and then when he went after Harry and his parents that night—

What happened?

That's the point that Harry doesn't understand. If Voldemort was going to make a Horcrux, another one, to have power over shadows, or he already did, then how did Harry wind up with it?

Harry doesn't know, and he isn't sure that he can find out. But he knows that the power over shadows is his, and he's not going to give anything up and he's not going to go without it. He does wonder if maybe one of Voldemort's Horcruxes ended up in him. The scar would be the obvious place.

Well, Voldemort can't have it back, assuming he still exists (which the Horcruxes book suggests he does). The power is Harry's and he's keeping it.


As the year goes on, Harry does notice Dumbledore watching him keenly, but he doesn't think much of it. After all, Dumbledore had the Horcrux book in his office and he might know about Horcruxes. And if Dumbledore thinks that Harry should be in Gryffindor or that he's destined to defeat Voldemort the way some people do, then he would probably be pretty puzzled by how Harry's behaving.

But it's not until the end of the year, after Professor Quirrell abruptly disappears and there's really no answer to all the students' confused questions, Dumbledore does call Harry up to his office.

Harry pretends to be confused by where the gargoyle is and what the password is, until Professor McGonagall comes by and tells him. Then he walks up the moving staircase and knocks on the office door for the first time.

"Come in, my boy, come in."

Harry steps into the office and nods at the phoenix on his perch. Then he glances around at things that he only saw once in person, without the film of grey over his eyes that the shadows always give, and he sits down in the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. "You wanted to talk to me, sir?"

"Yes, Harry. I understand that you didn't investigate the third-floor corridor?"

Harry blinks. Of all the things he thought Dumbledore might say, that wasn't one of them. He expected to be accused of stealing the Horcrux book. "Sir? I thought we weren't allowed to go in that corridor?"

"Students weren't supposed to," Dumbledore says, nodding. "But I was guarding a rare treasure there, and someone has stolen it. I simply wondered if you had investigated the corridor, since I know that you know many other secrets about the school."

"No," Harry says, shaking his head. "It never seemed that interesting." And it was too dark, not something Dumbledore needs to know about.

"Ah, a pity. I hoped you could let me know where the Philosopher's Stone disappeared to."

Harry blinks. He thinks he's read something about the Philosopher's Stone in the Horcrux book, or maybe in the Restricted Section. "Isn't that a famous stone that can help you turn lead into gold, sir? Or something else into gold?"

"And brew the Elixir of Life that could let you live forever, yes." Dumbledore leans forwards. "I suspect the person who stole it was specifically looking for the Elixir of Life."

"Why, sir? The ability to turn lead into gold sounds more interesting to me."

Dumbledore smiles sadly. "Do you think you care too much about the riches of life, Harry?"

"No," Harry says, after considering that for as much time as it deserves, which is about two seconds.

"I just want to know any information you may have about who stole the Stone, Harry."

"If you suspect they stole it for the Elixir of Life, don't you already suspect who stole it, sir?"

"I have suspicions, Harry, but I do not know for sure."

"I don't know, sir."

And since that's true, it's going to be true no matter how long Dumbledore stares at him. He finally sighs as if disappointed and asks, "So, are you looking forward to the summer holidays, Harry?"

"Yes, sir. I'm looking forward to doing lots of reading that isn't for my classes and staying with my friend Theodore."

"Theodore? Ah, yes, Mr. Nott. Well, I'm afraid that I must ask you to go back to your family, Harry. They must miss you terribly."

"Why are you asking me, sir?"

"What? Well, of course, I hate to order any of my students around—"

"No, I mean, why you specifically, sir? You're not my guardian or my Head of House, so it just seems strange."

Dumbledore's eyes have narrowed slightly. Harry thinks he's on to something, although he doesn't know what it is. He waits hopefully, but gets nothing more interesting than Dumbledore saying, "It is just for the summer, Harry."

"They won't want me back," Harry says positively. "We don't get along. But I do get along with Theodore and his dad. So I'm going to his house."

"You will go back to the Dursleys, Harry."

Harry doesn't see the point of arguing, so he shrugs a little. Then he goes back to the Slytherin common room after Dumbledore questions him one more time about the Philosopher's Stone, and tells Theodore what is going to happen.


And what he says is going to happen is what does. He and Theodore ride the train until they're almost back to King's Cross Station, and then Harry pretends to go to the luggage compartment and disappears into the shadows instead. He told Theodore he would remain unseen. Theodore didn't question him as to how.

Harry only comes out when he hears all the other students leave. He follows Theodore to where his father is waiting. Aethelred nods at them a little and takes their hands, whisking them through side-along Apparition. Harry doesn't like it, not compared to his shadows, but he doesn't feel like he wants to throw up, either, which is what Theodore looks like.

"Come on," Theodore says, the minute his father has disappeared into his lab. "I have new books that you haven't read, and there are games we never got to play, and I might invite Pucey over later..."

Harry follows him up to the room that he stayed in over Christmas, feeling content. From the way Theodore looks over his shoulder, he feels the same way.

Dumbledore sends a few owls over the summer. They are incredibly easy to ignore.