[1st September, 1991 - Evening, 10 minutes after the welcome feast]
Harry climbed the rotating spiral staircase to the headmasters office, jumping over every prime numbered step, moving with the purpose of a star quidditch player about to grace the field with his game winning presence. He reached the top and danced towards the door in a seemingly random pattern, which would have confused anyone watching.
He knocked.
Silence greeted him from the other side before a tense voice said, "come in".
As Harry entered he was greeted by the sight of a serious looking headmaster, standing behind his desk, elder wand in hand, pointed right at him.
"Oh, Harry, my boy, it's you". Dumbledore said, rather startled.
"You asked to see me, Sir?" asked harry, smiling slightly, not taking his eyes off the wand still trained on his head.
"Er, yes. Yes I did." Dumbledore sheathed the wand looking embarrassed, but quickly readjusted his features to one of relaxation and grandfatherly warmth.
"Is this about me being sorted into Slytherin, Sir? I know it wasn't expected of me but it is where I truly belong, Sir. I don't want to move anywhere else."
"Harry. Your house is your family and once you're sorted you cannot change, except under very special circumstances. I'd never try to force you anywhere else."
'One point in his favor,' Harry thought, before he felt a medium strength legilimency probe scanning his fake memories of the last few days. 'Opp, never mind. One point against.'
"What I actually wanted to discuss, Harry, was your education over the next seven years. Your parents were friends of mine and I feel partly responsible for the situation with your relatives. Hagrid told me some of the details."
Harry just stared at him.
"I want to take you under my wing so to speak. There are various aspects of our society, that, growing up with your relatives, you won't have been taught, but which will be important for your future."
Harry appeared to think for a moment, his face a picture of childish innocence.
"That's OK with me Headmaster, but I do have to ask you to refrain from using legilimency on me again. I can't allow the knowledge of the 'power that he knows not' to be leaked by anyone."
"…"
"…"
"Harry. How do you know about that?" Dumbledore had lost all grandfatherly airs, all twinkles gone from his eyes.
"That's part of the power he knows not, so sorry, but I can't tell you."
"Harry, you are too young to bear such a burden, let alone all by yourself!"
"I've known this burden for a long time, me or Neville will be the one to destroy the Dark Lord. I have accepted it."
"Harry. If you know what the power he knows not is, you must tell me!"
"Why? I barely know you. For all I know you could be an agent of Voldemort or the very Dark Lord spoken of in the prophecy."
Dumbledore stared in horror at the 11-year-old boy in front of him. "Harry, why would you think I could be a death eater or Dark Lord?"
"In the first instance, because, while you are held up as the leader of the light, it doesn't change the fact that the light was losing before I intervened. That means your actions, regardless of how they were portrayed, were resulting in Voldemort's slow victory. That means until I get to know you better, I can't rule out the possibility you were actually helping him. In the second instance, you are a very strong wizard, who also holds many positions of power. The fact that you hold so much power means you are already one-half of the way to being a Dark Lord and only your personality and moral belief systems stop you from being one. Personality and beliefs, which I know very little about, not knowing you very well.
Dumbledore just continued to stare. What could possible have happened to the boy to make him so suspicious and untrusting? Could he really mold such a mind to become the hero he needed? Unlikely. And he NEEDED to know what the power was. It was for the greater good. The boy seemed to think he could defeat Voldemort on his own, with no guidance. Such thinking would lead him straight into the jaws of the wolves of Slytherin house, and make the chance of Harry becoming an eventual Dark Lord far too high.
'Wait', he thought, 'what was it he said? Me OR Neville? Could Voldemort somehow have marked Neville as well? He'd make a better chosen one than Harry, given Harry's new circumstances, and with the world's and Voldemort's attention still on Harry, it would make Neville's position far safer too.'
The boy continued to stare at him, waiting patiently for his answer.
"Harry," Dumbledore eventually said. "I'm not a death eater or a Dark Lord, and I hope over the years I can show you that I am worthy of your trust. I apologize for my earlier behavior and assure you it won't happen again."
Harry's childish face broke into a wide grin.
"However, I must still ask you… I understand if you cannot tell me the specifics, but something you said before doesn't make sense. You said the prophecy could still apply to either you or Neville, but you also said you know what the power he knows not is. Does this mean Neville also has it?"
"Neville has a different power he knows not."
"Does he also know the prophecy and the power?"
"No."
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, gazing at a random nick-knack, before looking back to Harry.
"Thank you, Harry. And I'm sorry." And the full force of Dumbledore's Legilamancy attack smashed into Harry's shields like the fist of Merlin.
- W:PSBPnIoFP -
"Wow! he's really going for it!"
Harriet Potter, sat safely behind mental defenses, behind mental traps, behind yet more defenses, in a decoy mind, inside a fully built mindscape, containing yet more traps, defenses, and surprises, watching on the mental representation of a giant TV screen in Harry's mind, as Dumbledore ripped past the purposefully shoddy shields and into Harry's memories, a specially chosen composite of fakes from this life and real ones from past lives.
The Dumbledore on screen was now staring, openmouthed, at a 'vision' of an adult Neville Longbottom, tall and imposing, decked out in full goblin armor, wielding his wand in one hand, an ornate sword in the other, surrounded by attractive witches, all animagi, battling a hoard of death eaters and inferi.
More 'visions' flashed past his eyes showing snatches of the prophecy, common knowledge of the wizarding world, and Harry's family's history.
Harriet continued to watch, amused, Dumbledore firing off obliviates, destroying anything he felt Harry shouldn't know, or was inconvenient.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! Here we GO!" Harriet was now shouting and pumping her fist in the air as Dumbledore had retreated to a cabinet and, reaching into a draw, pulled out several potion vials. "We have, at least, a class four manipulative Dumbledore!"
Harry's body, already subjected to multiple obliviates, compulsion charms, and confundus charms, was now fed three different loyalty potions, before Dumbledore inspected his handiwork and sent the boy on his way, with a twinkle in his eye, and a humming on his lips.
Harry trudged down the stairs and out past the gargoyle, eyes glazed, before Harriet, buried deep in the deepest reassesses of his mind, started to repair the damage done by the headmaster's onslaught.
Taking control of Harry's wand hand, Harriet started to dispel the charms, removing planted memories, and replacing destroyed ones. Eventually she redirected the effects of the potions to a blank mind, which had no idea who Dumbledore was, before locking the mind in an occlumency prison, to be released only once Harry had flushed the potions from his system.
Slowly, Harriet and Harry became Harry and Harry, who, soon enough, became just Harry.
'WoW! Ok. So I guess I'd better get some safeguards in place for my friends then. This guy is in NO WAY to be trusted.'
- W:PSBPnIoFP -
[Some hours after the welcome feast]
Lord Lucius Malfoy stood by the central fireplace of Malfoy Manor, brandy in one hand, letter from his son, just arrived, in the other, brow furrowed, confusion rapidly mixing with interest. Shadows flickered across the wall, dancing across the warm light emitting from the fire.
He walked over to where his very attractive wife was sitting comfortably in a large highback chair, slowly savoring a glass of red from their French holdings, her long black hair still wet from an evening bath, her robe shifting as she did, occasionally exposing pale skin hidden beneath.
"Tell me what you think of this," he intoned, handing the letter to Narcissa, who accepted it and started reading.
Honored Father,
You asked me to write to confirm I was accepted into Slytherin and I have been. No surprises there.
However, on the train ride and during the sorting there were two other, slightly more surprising events, which I suspect you would be interested to have brought to your attention.
The first was my meeting with Harry Potter. Contrary to your and mother's expectations, he knew the correct addresses and how to hold himself. He seemed amiable and not at all antagonistic, despite knowing who I was. We seem to have the start of a tentative friendship. He also claimed to be the scion of the house of Black through a will written by Sirius Black and his status as godson. I'd be very interested to hear your thoughts on this. Finally, counter to everyone's expectations, he was sorted into Slytherin. The whole hall was stunned, including Dumbledore.
The second was a girl in my year that I met on the train, in the company of a Weasley. Her name was Tammy Merope Riddle and despite my not recognizing the name from lessons, she also knew the correct addresses and how to hold herself. She admitted to not being a pureblood, but also said she had old blood. She then hissed in my ear and I'm sure she was speaking parseltougue. There was no snake present but I'm certain it was. Her parting words to me were "I will not be in Slytherin, but never doubt that I do belong there". She was sorted into Gryffindor after sitting under the hat for several minutes. For some reason Harry Potter seemed very surprised by this.
Your dutiful son,
Draco.
"Unexpected," said Narcissa.
"Indeed."
She continued, "we will have to invite the girl to our Christmas party. There is almost certainly more to this child than some random muggleborn."
"Well, Draco seems to think she understands our culture so it should be reasonably safe. But really. The hero of the light in Slytherin and a potential dark witch in Gryffindor?"
"Yes, it does seem off, doesn't it."
"I also can't help shake the feeling I've heard the name Riddle somewhere before, but for the life of me I can't think where."
"What about this business of Potter being the scion of house Black?" Narsissa was rereading the first part of the letter.
"Tricky." Lucius looked pensive. "As long as Black is unable to claim his lordship, he remains only an heir, and his will won't be conclusive, merely supportive. And so long as he doesn't die the will can't be executed anyway. Black being Potter's godfather does complicate things… As it stands, I'm not sure which way the goblins would decide."
"But with Potter in Slytherin and not so obviously under Dumbledore's thumb…," the black haired beauty prompted.
"Yes. The downsides of losing the house of Black go from disastrous to merely rather annoying. IF Draco is able to make a firm ally of him."
"And the greater the chance of something happening to Potter in the meantime."
"Well, that logic applies to Draco too."
"Yes, but we can make another son. The Potters cannot." Her face betrayed her distaste of the words coming from her mouth.
"True, if a little morbid."
"…"
"…"
After a few moments silence Narsissa continued, "a fight for the lordship between Draco and Potter could also endanger any friendship the two have built up, increasing the cost to house Malfoy, regardless of which way the decision goes. If Potter wins we could lose the resources and votes of both house Black and Potter, if Potter loses we would still lose house Potter."
"Yes."
"…"
"…"
"I doubt Draco would see it that way though."
"No."
"…"
"…"
"It might be worth having my cousin moved to a lower security wing of Azkaban to ensure he doesn't die just yet."
Lucius sighed. "Assuming what Potter says is accurate, I think that would be best. I'd really like to know how he knows… I'll have to see if Black used a wizard legal firm. It might be possible to view a copy, if it wasn't drawn up by the goblins."
Narsissa nodded to her lord before continuing, "will you be writing a reply to Draco tonight? Friendships are always so tentative in the earliest stages."
"Yes. I'll join you in the bedroom soon."
"Goodnight, My Lord," her slight smile communicated an expectation she knew would be understand.
Smiling back, Lucius left the warmth of the sitting room, arrived in the study, sat at his large oak desk, took out a roll of parchment and quill, and started to write…
Draco,
Congratulations on being sorted into Slytherin house. Although not a surprise it is still a welcome confirmation of what we already knew to be true.
In regards to your observations, I'll start with the supposedly muggleborn girl. Obviously being a parselmouth is a rare and special gift and she seems to be fully aware of both the implications of it, and the status such people hold in our society. Her being sorted into Gryffindor is defiantly surprising but not totally unexpected. Being a muggleborn in Slytherin wouldn't be easy and could well be a conscious choice to deflect suspicion away from her obviously dark ability. Your mother and I would like you treat her with respect and care. Anyone with the hereditary trait of both Salazza Slytherin and the Dark Lord deserves…
Lucius froze, eyes slowly widening, staring at the last few words he'd written, quill poised over the page, ink starting to drip, forming ever and ever larger blotches.
The diary that wrote back! That's where he knew the name Riddle! The diary the Dark Lord had given him that contained the memories of a student called Tom Riddle! The diary the Dark Lord had said was one of his most prized possessions!
His mind raced as the implications suddenly became apparent to him.
The Dark Lord gave me the diary of Tom Riddle. Tammy Riddle shares Tom Riddle's last name and is probably a descendent. Tammy Riddle is a parcelmouth, which is a hereditary trait. The Dark Lord is also a parcelmouth…
Tom Riddle IS the Dark Lord… and Tammy Riddle is the DAUGHTER of the Dark Lord.
Lucius stared down at his ruined, ink stained, half finished letter, before scrunching it up, throwing it away, and starting anew.
A few rooms away, as the rejected drafts started to pile up, a slightly miffed Narsicca was curled up in bed, hugging a pillow, wondering what was keeping her lordly bed warmer from the snuggling she felt she was due.
- W:PSBPnIoFP -
"YOU WANT WHAT?!" McGonagall shrieked. She stood in front of the Headmasters desk, staring at the old wizard in front of her, disbelief etched over her face.
"Please Minerva. There have been unexpected events that necessitate these changes."
"You want me to rework the schedules of all students… by tomorrow morning!?"
"With Harry Potter being sorted into Slytherin he is too close to those who would work to bring our world to Chaos."
"But… But… you originally wanted Gryffindor to spend most of its classes with Slytherin. Now you want Ravenclaw to? How does that change anything!?"
"Please Minerva. You must trust me."
McGonagall Harrumphed. "Fine, Albus. But if your games start affecting the actual academic achievements of students, I swear I'm going to use whatever influence I have to stop the silliness."
Dumbledore smiled. "You know how seriously I take my responsibilities as Headmaster, Minerva."
"It's not those responsibilities I'm worried about Albus," but her tone was resigned. Who could really understand the intricacies of the plots this barmy old man played but him? "I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow." She turned to the door and her words became more pointed. "Please do not mind to find me less than sociable." The door closed with more force than necessary.
Dumbledore leaned back on his throne and sighed. Minerva was one of his closest friends and he hated having to keep secrets from her. But what could he do? Her Occlumency skills were far from expert level and he knew she would strongly disapprove of his treatment of Mr. Potter. The fact it was all mostly legal didn't in any way decrease its social stigma.
How he wished he could potion up Neville too, but he was not his magical guardian and Madam Longbottom had refused, point blank, to allow him to be. No, he was going to have to be a lot more subtle to ensure Neville walked his destined path.
Harry Potter… Harry had become an enigma. Maybe not a Miss Riddle level enigma—he gave a slight shudder—but an enigma nonetheless. The boy, apparently, was a seer. What he'd seen in the boy's memories was incredible but also baffling. Seers were not supposed to remember prophecies, but then, these had clearly not been prophecies. These had been visions. And many of these visions had been VERY specifically useful to Harry's introduction to the magical world. Dumbledore wasn't an expert on how divination worked, but it was almost as though some outside force was feeding Harry the specific information Dumbledore didn't want him to know.
What he really needed was to get Harry into regular one-on-one divination classes with Trelawney who, under the guise of teaching him, could keep an eye on the information he was divining. But divination wouldn't be an option for another two years and he didn't feel he could explain Harry's starting now, regardless of actual talent. It would just shine a light on the unfortunate nature of teaching that particular class.
Until that was possible, his best option was probably to have regular meetings with Harry, under the guise of teaching him knowledge of wizarding society he'd just erased, and pump his brain for new information, before obliviating it all again. It was distasteful, but it was for the greater good. Of course, there were also Severus's potions classes.
His thoughts gradually returned to Neville.
The older Neville Longbottom he'd seen in Harry's vision had been impressive. And, although Dumbledore had thought himself long beyond base urges, very attractive. He'd been large of stature, wide across the shoulders, with well-defined muscles that rippled as he'd easily cleaved his foes apart. The witches around him certainly seemed to think the same thing. They'd all had the same look in their eyes when they're gaze fell on him: Absolute devotion, trust, and an underlying hint of desire.
Dumbeldore hoped Neville and his Hufflepuff friends would make more friends with Gryffindor than he would have had with Ravenclaw. Most of the light families were in the two houses after all, and if that's what it took to help Neville then that's what the school would do.
Yes. Regardless of the small difficulties the staff and others would have to put up with, if it was Neville's fate to be a powerful, attractive, charismatic, sexy, sword wielding, wizard, surrounded by a personal harem of Animagus witches, easily capable of cleaning the dark lord's clogs, then Albus Dumbledore was going to damn well make sure it happened.
With the heavy air of a man whose life's task was making the difficult decisions no one else would, the Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump continued to work well into the night, crafting plans to ensure Neville's destiny was fulfilled. It was all for the greater good, after all.
- W:PSBPnIoFP -
A/N:
Yes, I'm well aware of the absurdity of a stair based security system that's relies on prime numbers, even with backup at the top. I like to think some headmaster installed the system before it was pointed out someone could bypass it simply by stepping on every other stair, and had the top system installed as a patch. No one ever said wizards were sensible.
