Summary: Harry Potter is just an eccentric school boy with some unusual talents. Lord Peverell-Black, on the other hand, is a magically and politically powerful man with the world at his fingertips and a war at his doorstep. [Time travel, no pairings.]
Shards of Time: The Master of Death
Chapter VII
The Classes
"Yes, I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can find his way by moonlight, and see the dawn before the rest of the world." - Oscar Wilde
The night of the feast had passed by for Harry without incident. Throughout the night he'd carefully kept his eyes away from the staff table and as such had not experienced the pain in his scar from Quirrell.
After the feast, Percy had led the first years up to the portrait of the Fat Lady and into the Common Room. After being assigned their beds—Harry was pleased to note that he had the same one from his original timeline—everyone around him quickly fell asleep, excited for what tomorrow would bring them.
As Harry lay in bed on his side, his mind whirled with memories and thoughts of the upcoming classes. As of now his plan was to help teach his friends, new and old, to defend themselves. Although…if he did that outright, they'd become suspicious and wonder why it was needed; after all they were only first years. So, instead, he was going to have to do it a roundabout way. He could start by just getting them ahead in classes and teaching them a few nifty spells. Then, later when they saw just how dangerous things were going to be, he could really start to teach them.
Just as Harry was starting to drift off to sleep, he was suddenly jerked awake by a bright flash of what appeared to be fire down near his feet, within the curtains of his four-poster bed. He instantly sat up in bed, pulling out his wand as he did so. But as Harry sat breathing heavily, his body trembling with the adrenaline the shock gave him and his wand point unwaveringly at the spot where the fire had been, he could see nothing. He hesitated for a moment and relaxed his arm, but still kept it pointed at the end of the bed.
Quite suddenly, Harry realized that there was in fact something there, lying at the foot of the bed: A wand. The young wizard's brow creased for a moment in confusion before his eyes quickly widened as he recognized the slim piece of wood.
Moving faster than he ever had before, Harry reached out and snapped up the wand. He held it close up to his face to examine, to make sure that it was real. He needn't have done so however, as the moment his fingers came into contact with the wood of the wand he felt a familiar warmth spread throughout his being. Instantly, Harry relaxed, his shoulders slumping down. He let out a sigh as a smile spread across his face. He'd never actually held the Elder Wand before, but now that he had... Well, it was a feeling akin to drinking hot butterbeer on a snowy day or seeing his friends after a long summer.
It was like... Coming home.
The next morning dawned bright and early. Harry rose with the sun out of habit—though, granted, his body protested against it. His eighteen-year-old mind might be used to waking early, but his eleven-year-old body certainly wasn't, even after a summer of doing so. He got ready quietly while the rest of the Gryffindor first year boys slept. As always, Ron was snoring the loudest. Memories of the past seven years brought a smile to Harry's face.
Harry dressed in his Hogwarts robes, which were now once again sporting a Gryffindor badge. He put his original wand in his pocket and placed the Elder Wand within one of his boots under several notice-me-not, sticking, and anti-summoning charms. He didn't want to leave the Wand off his person, but also didn't want anyone to find it. He still wasn't entirely sure who had brought the Wand to him since it was supposed to be Dumbledore's right now, though he did have a theory.
As it was only just 5:30 in the morning, Harry gathered up his school things in his school bag and then proceeded to spend the next hour or so wandering around the school, re-familiarizing himself with its halls. He also scouted out some classrooms that didn't look like anyone had stepped into them in quite a number of years. They could be quite useful for practice. Harry was tempted to just use the Room of Requirement, like he had with the Defense Association in his fifth year, but had eventually0020decided that it'd be too suspicious for him to know about it, especially so early in the year.
Finally, Harry let his feet take him down to the Great Hall, which was only just beginning to fill up with students. The only one of his friends that he recognized there was Susan, so, after a moment's decision, he took a seat next to her at the Hufflepuff table.
Susan raised a questioning eyebrow at him as he sat down next to the blonde. Harry also noticed several of the older students in the hall staring at him in surprise, but ignored them.
"Morning," Harry greeted brightly as he began to place some food onto the plate before him. Susan continued to stare.
"Um, Harry..." Susan started hesitantly.
Harry looked up, feigning curiosity while successfully hiding his immense amusement at the situation. Breaking people's expectations was just so much fun. "Hmm?" he asked.
"You...do realize that this is the Hufflepuff table right?"
"Yes."
"And that you're a Gryffindor?"
"Yes." She blinked, and he continued tilting his head slightly. "And?"
"Then why aren't you sitting at the Gryffindor table?"
Harry blinked again giving her question a moment of thought. "Is there something in the school rules that says that we have to sit at our House tables?"
Susan hesitated, surprise showing clearly across her face. "Well...no," she said softly, letting her voice trail off at the end.
"Then why should I have to sit at the Gryffindor table every meal instead of sitting with a friend?"
Susan stared at Harry in surprise for several more moments before finally breaking up into laughter, though she attempted to stifle it.
"Only you, Harry," She murmured, shaking her head in amusement. "Only you." Harry grinned at her in response and then returned to his breakfast.
It was only a few more minutes before a second familiar face came into the hall: Blaise Zabini. Blaise blinked in surprise when he saw Harry sitting at the Hufflepuff table, but then shrugged and made his made over. He plopped down in the seat across from Harry and began to load his plate with food as well.
"Good morning, Harry!" He said cheerily, before glancing at Susan. "And Miss Bones! It's nice to meet you again. It's...Susan, correct?"
Harry blinked in confusion. He was pretty sure that he'd never introduced the two of them. Susan, however, just smiled.
"Yes," she replied. "Though I'm afraid that your name escapes me..."
Blaise's grin widened. "Not to worry, not to worry!" he exclaimed, somehow bowing where he sat. "I am Blaise Zabini."
Susan smiled again and shook the Italian boy's hand.
"So, Harry," Blaise began as he started to eat a slice of toast. "Are there any classes that you're looking forward to in particular?"
"Well, Defense against the Dark Arts, though I believe the teacher might be a bit different than I'm expecting. And Charms to, I suppose—it sounds rather interesting." Harry paused for a moment, thinking, before a smirk spread across his face. "And Potions," he said finally. "Definitely Potions." It would be highly amusing to him to see how Snape would handle him this time around.
Harry, Blaise, and Susan continued to discuss some of the classes for several minutes. Soon Hermione too entered the Great Hall. At first, the bushy haired girl just began to walk toward the Gryffindor table, but then she abruptly froze in place, recognizing Susan, Harry, and Blaise from where they sat. Quickly, she hurried over to the Hufflepuff table, her face starting to scrunch up.
"Harry! Blaise!" she hissed. "What are you doing?"
Harry blinked and turned to face her. "Eating breakfast," he replied honestly unable to stop his mental sniggers. At her bafflement, he held up a piece of a waffle. "Want some?"
Hermione's face turned red. "That's not what I meant!" she snapped, ignoring his latter question. "Why aren't you two sitting at your proper tables? You'll get in trouble!"
"'Get in trouble'?" Harry parroted, blinking up at Hermione once more. "Why on earth would we? Sitting at another house's table and eating with friends isn't against the rules, you know."
Almost instantly, all of the anger drained out of Hermione's face. "It's not?" she asked in confusion. Harry smiled brightly at her.
"Nope!" he replied happily. "You can check the rules if you like, though I do believe that you've already read Hogwarts: A History."
Hermione frowned for a moment. "I— Oh... Oh, alright," she said at last with a sigh. Abruptly, she was right in front of Harry, shaking a finger at him. "But if we get in trouble," she hissed warningly, "It's on your head!"
Harry went cross-eyed staring at the finger in front of him and, just as he'd hoped, it caused Hermione to laugh. Shaking her head in exasperation, she went around to sit next to Blaise, across from Susan.
Next it was Terry who found them. He hesitantly approached them, looking torn between sitting at the Ravenclaw table and sitting with them, but in the end did sit down next Susan. Only a minute after him, Draco, Theodore, and several other Slytherins entered as well. Draco stared at Harry and the others in shock. Harry waved to him and then returned to his conversation with the others. He was not at all surprised when the blonde waved weakly back and then proceeded to the Slytherin table; the boy was practically soaked in tradition from birth after all. Theodore sat and the Slytherin table as well, though he gave Harry a long, assessing stare as he did so.
When Neville came into the hall and saw Harry and the others, he froze in place, looking like a deer in headlights. Harry and his friends waved him over, however, so the boy slowly approached.
"Come on, Neville," Harry said while he patted the seat next to him. "Sit down and have breakfast with us." The boy stuttered a bit, but finally did sit down next Harry and hesitantly began to eat. Fortunately, it only took another minute to pull him into the conversation and soon he was enthusiastically chatting with everyone else.
It was quite a bit later that Ron entered the Great Hall with Seamus. Harry looked up and attempted catch the redhead's eyes, but Ron was so involved in his conversation that he didn't notice and instead sat down the Gryffindor table. Harry frowned when, even ten minutes later, Ron didn't notice that he, Hermione, and Neville were not there.
By that time most the Great Hall had filled with students. As the table filled up around the group of friends, they were met with numerous stares from not only Hufflepuff, but the other houses as well. People began whispering and staring, but Harry and his friends just firmly ignored them. Neville might have been nervous had he noticed, but the boy was too caught up in conversation to do so.
From there, breakfast progressed quickly for Harry and his friends. Harry was not surprised to find that Dumbledore was not present at the staff table throughout the entire meal. He had little doubt that the elderly man was going ballistic over the missing Elder Wand.
Before Harry knew it, the heads of houses had begun to go around, passing out timetables. Almost immediately, McGonagall made a beeline for them.
"Mr. Potter," she said, and Harry barely managed to stop his eye from twitching. Why was she singling him out? Not the he really minded, but it was the point that mattered. "May I ask why you're sitting here instead of at the Gryffindor table?"
Across from him Hermione began to stutter, but Harry just smiled at the stern woman.
"Sitting with my friends, Professor," he answered. "We're all from different houses, so we just sat here instead."
McGonagall frowned, though she didn't look angry. Before she could say another word however, Flitwick suddenly joined them.
"I think that it's wonderful!" the small professor squeaked happily. "We need more inter-house relations!"
"Indeed," Sprout chimed in as she passed out her student's timetables. "I don't mind them sitting at my table at all. Hopefully they'll even encourage others to do the same!"
McGonagall's lips thinned momentarily, but eventually she sighed and nodded. "Fine, just don't cause any trouble," she said, giving the group of students a hard stare.
"Well it's arrogance, if you ask me," Snape sneered. His sudden appearance cause several people—students and teachers alike—to jump in surprise. The dark haired man was staring straight at Harry.
Harry pushed down his instinctive reaction at Snape's attitude in favor of keeping a calm head. If he played his cards right, he might even be able to turn this confrontation in his favor.
Harry then feigned confusion, as if wondering why Snape was being callous.
"Professor Snape!" Harry called happily, causing the professors—and several nearby students—to jerk in surprise at the familiar greeting. For a moment even Snape resembled a deer in headlights, though he quickly managed to regain his composure. Harry paused for a moment then, pretending to think about what Snape had said. "Arrogance?" he questioned, making sure his tone was that of innocent curiosity. "Well, I suppose I could see that…" —On either side of him, Susan and Neville stared at him like he was insane for agreeing with Snape— "But I checked with the school rules before sitting here and, Sir, there's nothing in them about being required to sit anywhere—except for the restriction on the Staff table, of course."
Snape colored ever so slightly and his mouth opened and closed several times as he attempted to find some fault in Harry's statement. He could not however—particularly not in front of the other heads of houses—so finally he closed his mouth with an audible click and gave Harry a barely perceptible nod. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode off, his cloak billowing out behind him.
McGonagall stared after Snape for a moment, shaking her head sadly. Then she pulled out several small sheets of paper and passed them to Harry, Neville, and Hermione. While the other teachers did something similar, Harry looked down as his slip and found that it was his schedule. Just like during his first year he had Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, History of Magic, Herbology, and Astronomy. That day, Monday, he had Herbology and History of Magic before lunch, followed by Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts.
A quick comparison between Harry's and the other's slips showed that he had Herbology with Hufflepuff, History with Ravenclaw, Potions with Slytherin, and Defense Against the Dark Arts with Hufflepuff. He'd get see all of his friends throughout day.
"Wait a moment," Hermione suddenly said, her face scrunched up in confusion. "Blaise, how did you get your timetable? Professor Snape never gave it to you."
"Oh, Slytherins got their timetables last night. I'm not sure why the other heads of houses don't do the same thing."
Harry blinked in surprise at this new bit of information and then had to agree with Blaise. It would be much easier if they were all given their timetables before the first day of classes because they would then know which books to bring with them instead of having to lug all of them around. Not that it was a problem for Harry, of course, because not only had he already known what his classes were going to be, but he also had a feather-light weight and magically expanded book bag, so he had all of his books with him anyway.
Once breakfast ended Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Susan began to head out of the school and toward the greenhouses. Other first year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors joined them and, eventually, Ron caught up with them as well.
"Hey, mate," he said to the group at large as they began to trudge across Hogwarts' grounds. "Where were you at breakfast?"
Harry smiled at Ron, glad that his friend seemed to have completely forgotten the annoyance that he'd felt on the train. "Neville, Hermione, and I were sitting with Susan at the Hufflepuff table. Didn't you see us?"
Looking somewhat bewildered, Ron shook his head. "You can do that?" he asked.
"Hmm?"
"Sit at other tables I mean—I've never heard of anyone doing that before."
"Oh, yes. The only rule about seating is that students are not allowed to sit at the staff table at any time."
Susan blinked surprise. "Hogwarts honestly has a rule about that? I though that you were just kidding before. I mean, I would've thought that it would be a given."
"Go figure," Harry replied with a chuckle as he shrugged. "I'm not sure that I even want to know what incident must have happened in order to create the rule."
"I bet two Knuts that it has something to do with my brothers, Fred and George," Ron grumbled.
'Or my father and his friends,' Harry thought to himself. 'Hmm, I'll have to ask Sirius about that when I see him again...'
Abruptly Harry froze in place as his mind registered his last thought. Sirius. Sirius. Sirius was still alive! He hadn't fallen trough the veil yet. Hell, he hadn't even escaped from Azkaban prison yet!
Harry had already acknowledged this, of course, but it was only just really sinking in. It was as though even through everything that'd been happening, there had still been some small part of his mind that had been convinced that this was all a dream. But now that part was just as sure as the rest of him. He was here. He was now. He had a second chance.
"Harry?" Susan asked worriedly. Harry quickly looked up to find his friends staring at him with concern. "Are you alright?"
"You froze, went all pale, and started shaking," Hermione added.
Carefully, Harry straightened himself out and took a deep breath. "I'm fine," he told his friends. On the inside he was cursing himself for being so careless as to allow his old memories to take a hold of him like that. "Really. I'm just...cold."
Harry's friends stared blankly at him for a moment, then up at the sunny, cloudless sky, then back down at him again. Harry smiled sheepishly at them and then quickly hurried by. His four friends shared a glance, but didn't say anything more before moving to catch up with Harry.
"Good morning, first years!" Sprout said cheerily as she approached the group of students standing outside of Greenhouse #1. "I am Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff house and the Hogwarts Herbology teacher."
As the children murmured 'Good Morning', Sprout opened the door to the greenhouse and led them inside. The greenhouse was completely filled with numerous plants—though none of them dangerous—and worktables with two seats at each.
"Have a seat," Sprout announced. "And pull out your notebooks."
Harry chose a random seat towards the middle of the room. To his surprise, it was Neville who sat down next to him. Susan and Ron sat at a table behind them and Hermione joined a Hufflepuff boy in front of them.
"I hope that you have chosen your seat wisely," Sprout said from the front of the greenhouse once everyone had a seat, "Because the person next to you is going to be your partner for the rest of the semester."
Instantly, Harry's eyes narrowed. It wasn't because he was paired with Neville—he was actually glad about that because the boy had come to love Herbology over the years and Harry hoped that he could help him along—but rather for another, deeper reason. Harry had gone through the memories of his first year just a few days ago and they had never had permanent partners in the original timeline. What had changed? What could have changed in such a short amount of time to have this effect?
The rest of Herbology flew by for Harry. They were starting off purely with theory and would start with actual plant care next week. After that Harry and his friends whisked off to History of Magic, meeting up with Terry along the way. The dark haired boy also introduced the group of Gryffindors to one of his roommates, Anthony Goldstein, a boy with wavy blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes.
"It's nice to meet you," Harry said to the boy. "I'm—"
"Harry Potter. I know," Anthony interrupted with a grin.
History of Magic was just as Harry remembered it being, with Professor Binns droning on. Within minutes most of the class had dropped off to sleep, though Hermione as still dutifully taking notes. Harry attempted to pay attention, knowing that he'd failed the class last time and that, this time around, it might be able to help him, but found that he was unable to do so. Finally, with a sigh Harry pulled out his history textbook and began to read the chapter that the current lecture was on instead of listening to the lecture itself.
Terry and Anthony's eyes widened upon seeing what Harry was doing. They shared a look and then, with a simultaneous nod, pulled out their textbooks.
After class, Hermione quickly approached them. "What were you doing?" she growled out as she glared reprimanding. "Why weren't you listening to Professor Binns?"
Harry blinked in surprise. He'd forgotten just how much respect—and often fear—for authority she used to have.
"Erm, Hermione," Harry began, "You may have noticed that Professor Binns is a bit...difficult...to listen to. So, instead, we pulled out our textbooks and started to read the material—it's the same information."
Hermione was still scowling. "But that's disrespectful to the teacher!"
"It's not like he noticed," Terry said.
Anthony nodded his agreement. "Yeah, and at least we weren't asleep."
Hermione huffed, but let up a bit. As the four—six when Ron and Neville joined them—began to walk toward the Great Hall, Hermione continued to grumble. Fortunately though, she seemed to at least partially accept what they'd said.
"Think of it this way, 'Mione," Harry said with a grin. "It's a choice between respecting a ghost and your grades. Which will you choose?"
Hermione's mouth opened and closed several times as she struggled to reply. In the end however she was unable to, so she just settled for silence as she began to work out this new "dilemma".
When they reach the Great Hall the group sat down at the Ravenclaw table without hesitation. Harry felt that it was nice to have Ron with them as well this time, though the boy did look a bit uncomfortable.
During lunch Susan joined them as well, though Blaise sat with the Slytherins. He seemed to be completely wrapped up in a conversation with a third year.
Lunch passed far too quickly in Harry's opinion and before they knew it everyone was leaving the Hall and Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Neville were making their way down to the dungeons for Potions. Along the way, Blaise caught up with them and fell in step with Harry.
"So, how have your classes been so far?" the Italian boy asked.
Harry shrugged lightly. "Fine, though History of Magic was a bit dull."
Blaise nodded sympathetically. "I've heard as much," he said and then suddenly grinned. "Fortunately, I don't have it until tomorrow."
Harry and Blaise continued to make idle chitchat until they reached the Potions classroom. There they met up with a group of Slytherins, including Draco Malfoy.
"Potter," Draco greeted formally. He gestured to the group of children behind him. "There are some people I'd like to introduce you to as I was unable to do so before the Sorting Ceremony."
The blonde wizard then proceeded to introduce Harry to the majority of the Slytherin first years. Polite introductions and bows were exchanged. Acting on a whim, Harry introduced his friends as well. Draco and Ron stared darkly at each other the whole time, but neither spoke up.
Once done, everyone moved into the Potions Classroom and took their seats. Harry ended up sitting in the front row with Draco. Blaise and Hermione where one table over. Ron sat with Seamus, their roommate, while Theodore and, surprisingly, Neville paired up. Harry was glad about the last pair; though he didn't know much about Theodore's Potions skills, the boy should hopefully at least be able to stop Neville from making any big mistakes.
Only a few minutes later, once everyone had sat down, Snape strode into the classroom, his robes billowing around him. The door slammed shut loudly behind him, causing several people to jump. He ignored the students for a minute, taking care of several papers that littered his desk. Finally, he stood before his desk, took a moment to survey the class, and then began to take roll.
As Harry watched Snape he had to admit that the man was very skilled at intimidation, almost more so than Alastor Moody. He knew just how to build tension in the room so that everyone was sitting on the edge of their seats even though he had yet to say a word to them.
When Snape got to Harry's name he paused but, to Harry's great surprise, didn't say make any comments and simply continued on with the list. Harry repressed a grin. Good, things were starting to change already. He knew that getting over his own hatred of the man who had tormented him through the years would be difficult, but having learned how close he'd been to his mother and seeing him die was helping him along.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape began once he was finished. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe that this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
More silence followed Snape's speech. Several students were on the edges of their seats, though most just looked terrified.
"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry's eyes narrowed. So much for changing things. Oh well, at least he'd heavily looked over potions books in the last few days, preparing himself for this very class.
"The Draught of Living Death, sir," Harry answered. "It's a sleeping potion so powerful that it makes the drinker appear to be dead."
Snape stared hard at Harry for moment, as if he wasn't sure whether or not to be surprised that Harry had known the answer. "And where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
"Well, an Apothecary would be the easiest location, but bezoars are originally found in the stomachs of goats."
"What's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"There is no difference, sir. They're the same plant."
"And what other name are they known by?"
Harry paused for a moment, thinking. "...Aconite, sir."
For the next five or so minutes, Snape continued to shoot out questions at Harry, instead of stopping after three like he had originally. Harry managed to answer all of them correctly, though he struggled with many of them. The dark haired wizard was incredibly glad to have brushed up on his Potions before the class, though years of Potions class helped immensely as well.
Finally, Snape stopped. For a moment Harry could swear that there was a ghost of a smile on his lips, but it quickly disappeared and, considering as this was Snape, he figured to just have been his imagination.
But it wasn't his imagination that Snape proceeded to watch him even more closely than he used to during the whole class period.
In his seat Dumbledore beamed happily, his eyes twinkling as they often did. Laid out before him was the chamber reserved solely for Wizengamot meetings, filled with the sound of many voices, all having their own conversations. The members of the Wizengamot were seated all around him, split into three sections.
Dumbledore himself sat in the front seat of one section, while Cornelius Fudge sat in the front of another, and a pureblood wizard in the front of the third.
The members of the Wizengamot only took up 3/4 of the room however. The last forth was a balcony separated from the rest of the room. This space contained all of the ambassadors from other countries. Though they had very little say in Wizengamot meetings, they were there to watch and report what happened back to their home countries.
"Order! Order!" Fudge, the Minister of Magic, called out loudly. Quickly the hubbub that filled the room subsided until there was only silence. Fudge cleared his throat once for good measure and then stood up regally. "I call into order the first Wizengamot meeting of the Winter Term. The day is September 2nd, the year 1991." Almost as soon as he started talking, a quill on a piece of parchment began to write, recording everything that was being said. "Before we begin, is there anything that needs to be addressed immediately?"
Dumbledore stood up from his seat. "Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock," he said, stating his name and position as was required. "The Warlock division has no emergency issues." And with that he sat back down.
Immediately after him, the richly dressed pureblood man one section over stood up. "Lord Richard Adair, Chief Familia. The Family division has no emergency issues."
Fudge nodded sharply. "Then we will proceed." From there on Dumbledore only half listened to the meeting. He paid attention to everything that was happening, certainly, but at the same was thinking about other, more important matters, such as the newly-missing Elder Wand. His attention was firmly ripped from his personal problems, however, when Lord Adair began to announce the names of the new appointees of the Family division. It wasn't the announcement itself that caught his attention—it occurred during every opening meeting—but rather the pause that Lord Adair suddenly went into.
"We have two...irregularities...that have become known to us," the lord said with some hesitation. "Two seats that have been open, one of them for countless years, have had their title taken up...by the same person." Instantly, the entire chamber was filled with the whispers. It was quite rare for someone to hold two chairs as it meant that they were the last of both lines, but if that happened it was usually through marriage or some other situation. For someone to suddenly have two chairs... It was quite the oddity.
"The two chairs," Lord Adair continued, his voice rising above the din, "Belong to House Black and House Peverell."
This time the whispers broke out into loud exclamations as people began to talk boisterously amongst themselves. "Order! Order!" Fudge called out. Still people shouted in outrage, and Fudge sucked in a deep breath "I said order!" After several minutes, people finally began to quiet down.
"But how can that be!" one woman called out to Lord Adair from the crowd. "The only Blacks left are in Azkaban and the late Lord Arcturus Black named no heir in his will!"
"And what about the Peverell family!" Another person shouted. "No one has held the title of Lord Peverell in centuries! It's a dead family!"
When everyone finally settled down Lord Adair was able to explain that they didn't know how this had happened or even who the person was. All they knew from records was that there was now a Lord Peverell-Black.
Above all, Dumbledore was highly disturbed by this new development. A frown stretched across his face and the ever-present twinkle was gone from his eye. The business with this new Lord Black was very worrying; he only hoped that he could sway the man toward the Light so that he would not follow the path of his predecessors. What really bothered him however was that the man was the new Lord Peverell. Did he know anything about the Deathly Hallows? Did this have any connection to the missing Elder Wand? But that wasn't how the wand worked; whoever had defeated its previous holder owned it. He knew the Wand hadn't been stolen because the wards hadn't been touched, but that meant that the only explanation left was that the Wand had disappeared on its own. The whole situation was very strange.
Finally the Wizengamot began to move on from their discussion of the Lord Peverell-Black. Nothing could be done about the man after all, except to have a letter sent to him informing him that he had been appointed to the Wizengamot.
"There second irregularity," Lord Adair continued, "is also quite strange. We have received word that Harry James Potter is now Lord of House Potter." Again the chamber erupted into noise, this time even louder than ever before. All of the people gathered there were shocked not only at the association of a minor, but even more so because it was their "savior".
This time it was Dumbledore who restored order to the chamber. Few had heard him raise his voice before, so when he called for silence they were quick to comply with his orders. When everyone had fallen silent, Dumbledore turned his attention back into Lord Adair.
"Harry Potter is a minor," Dumbledore said firmly. "One can only gain the status of Lord after reaching the age of seventeen."
Lord Adair shrugged helplessly. "I know," he said raising his hands in exasperation. "But that doesn't change the fact that he has been recognized by the Ministry, by Gringotts, and by magic itself as Lord Potter!"
From there the chamber once again degenerated into mindless noise as everyone began to argue. Dumbledore made no attempt to stop it this time and instead sunk back into his seat, his frown deepening. Everything surrounding Harry Potter was starting to become deeply enfolded in mystery and he didn't like it one bit.
"—Regardless," Lord Adair was saying to Fudge above as the commotion started to calm down once again, "A letter will be sent to Lord Potter inviting him to the Wizengamot—"
Dumbledore stood up once more. "There is no need," he said. "I will deliver the letter to him personally." When Lord Adair stared hard at him he opened his arms in a gesture of helplessness. "He is a student at my school. It will be faster and I will be able to explain the workings of the Wizengamot to him." Lord Adair's lips thinned but finally he nodded in agreement and Fudge voiced his agreement as well.
From within the Family division, Lucius Malfoy spoke up, his smooth voice cutting across the chamber as easily as his sharp ice grey gaze. "I will alert the Board of Governors about this development as well. We should be able to work out a way for him to leave the school for each meeting."
Dumbledore nodded and sunk back into his seat, prepared to listen to the rest of the meting even as his mind swirled around other thoughts.
No, he didn't like this one bit.
Harry couldn't help but frown as he took a seat in the back of the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. The room around them smelt strongly of garlic and Harry was beginning to feel disappointed as he remembered what a joke the class was going to be this year. It was only more of a reason to help teach his friends to defend themselves.
As the class started, Harry's frowned only deepened. Quirrell stuttered so badly that everyone could barely understand him and he seemed to be generally weak, but every now and then when the man paused Harry could see his eyes flashing with dark intelligence. No, Quirrell was a dangerous opponent. That much was for sure. The only way he'd defeated him originally was due to that strange protection around him. Harry still needed to figure out how that worked. Did it have something to do with how all of a sudden any wounds he received started healing the instant that blood escaped them? No, that couldn't be it because it'd only started when he'd traveled to the past. Regardless, he needed to be more cautious this time around.
The only notable incident that occurred during the class was when Quirrel turned around once. Confronted with the back of his turban—and thus Voldemort—Harry felt his scar twinge. Harry was so used to it by now though that the sharp pain barely even registered. Not to mention that the pain had become much worse after Voldemort had fully returned in the...past? Future? It was difficult and confusing to figure out exactly how that worked.
By the time they got out of the class with an essay assigned for homework, Harry was completely silent, deeply involved in his own thoughts.
Knowing that he was in the same room with Voldemort had been...strange...to say the least. It had taken more restraint than he'd expected to stop himself from just jumping Quirrell right there and taking care of Voldemort once and for all. But it didn't work that way; if he did that then Voldemort would still live due to his other Horcruxes and he would know that Harry knew something about him.
No, Harry was just going to have to be patient. He could take care of Quirrell in due time but he had other, more important things to focus on in the mean time.
As Harry and his friends began to head toward the Great Hall for dinner Harry continued to remain silent. His friends were a bit worried at first, but after convincing them that he was just thinking they left him alone to his thoughts. The group sat down at the Gryffindor table this time and quickly fell into conversation with themselves and those around him.
"Deep thinker, eh?" a voice across from Harry suddenly interrupted his thoughts.
Harry looked up, surprised, to find Blaise taking a seat across from him. Several of the Gryffindors around him frowned slightly because he was a Slytherin, but they had all seen him sit with the rest of Harry's friends during breakfast so they said nothing.
Harry shrugged in response. "Perhaps," he answered, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
Suddenly, over Blaise's shoulder, Harry caught Dumbledore's eye. The man was staring at him, studying him. There was a strange look in his eye though, as if there was something that was bothering the headmaster that he couldn't figure out.
For a moment Harry felt pure cold fear clench at his heart. Had the man found out that he had the Elder Wand? Harry quickly pushed his irrationality down. No, that wasn't possible. And besides, even if he had he would have already confronted Harry about it. It must be about something else...But what?
Noticing Harry's gaze Blaise turned around to see what he was looking at. Upon discovering the staring contest that Harry and Dumbledore were engaged in, he turned back around and raised an eyebrow in Harry's direction.
Harry broke eye contact and looked back at Blaise. "What?"
Blaise studied Harry silently for a moment before suddenly shaking his head, a roguish smile coming onto his face. "You are a very interesting person," He replied, his grin widening. "Very interesting indeed."
Harry rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath. Blaise caught something about annoying Italian Slytherins and let out a bark of a laugh. The boy's amusement was contagious and Harry soon felt a grin slipping onto his face as well.
Nearly a half an hour later, Harry got up from the Gryffindor table, preparing to leave the hall with his friends. As soon as he turned around however he found McGonagall approaching him.
"Mr. Potter," she said formally and then handed him a folded piece of paper before waiting quietly.
His brow furrowing in confusion, Harry opened the slip of paper. It turned out to be a summons from Dumbledore, requesting that Harry meet him in his office. Harry looked up to McGonagall, confusion clear in his eyes, but she simply nodded.
"Please follow me," she said sternly. She walked out of the hall. Harry frowned and turned to his friends.
"Dumbledore wants to meet with me," he told them honestly.
Ron winced. "Ouch. Tough luck mate."
Hermione gently hit Ron on the arm. "Ronald," she growled. "I'm sure it's not a big deal. After all, Harry hasn't done anything to get in trouble." She paused and turned her glare onto Harry. "Have you?"
Harry chuckled. "No, I haven't. I'm sure that he just...wants to meet with me." Even to his own ears his words sounded doubtful.
Regardless, Harry quickly waved goodbye to his friends and promised that he'd meet up with them when he was done.
Harry had to hurry to catch up with McGonagall. When he did he fell in step with her as she led them away from the crowds of students and down the familiar path towards the Headmaster's office. They strode along in silence until McGonagall stopped before the large, ugly stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the headmaster's office.
"Sugar quills!" McGonagall said. Harry suddenly was immensely grateful that McGonagall had come with him to the office; as he'd never visited Dumbledore during his original first year he hadn't known what the password was.
Upon hearing the password the gargoyle suddenly sprang to life and hopped aside as the wall behind it split in two. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward, like a Muggle escalator.
McGonagall gestured toward the staircase but did not step inside herself. As Harry moved onto it she gave him another nod, her face softening.
"Good evening, Mr. Potter," she murmured and then, with a swish of her cloak, she was gone.
Harry gulped silently to himself as he rose upward in circles, higher and higher. Hearing the wall thud close behind him only increased his nervousness. He was fairly sure that the meeting wasn't anything to be worried about, but this would be the first time that he'd see the elderly man face to face since he died. And that had been two years ago for Harry.
Harry honestly wasn't sure how he felt about Dumbledore. He respected the man greatly, that was to be sure, but he had also screwed up his life irreversibly. And now even more so, for the simple fact that he now knew that all along Dumbledore had kept him alive just to die at the right moment, to bring down Voldemort... Harry shook his head sadly. He just didn't know what to think of the man; though his intentions were good, his actions were not.
And as the saying goes, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
Before Harry's thoughts could go any further he suddenly found himself standing at the top of the stairs in front a gleaming oak door with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin.
Harry took one last deep breath and then raised a hand and knocked soundly on the door.
"Enter."
A/N: It's been a while. I could go into a full explanation for why, but, frankly that would just a waste of time. So instead I'll just say that the next chapter will be out much sooner.
Also, apparently FF has eaten all of my lines/scene breaks. I'll get around to fixing that sometime.
In canon Harry doesn't have his first Potions class until Friday. I'm purposefully changing this because, honestly, that doesn't make sense to me for them to only have potions once a week, considering the relatively small number of classed they have. So instead I have written up an entirely new schedule for Harry, though you as readers will never see it—it'll be a reference for me as I write. Harry will still have double Potions on Friday, now he'll just also have it on Monday.
[Shi]