A/N: Thanks for the reviews everyone!
Now, as many of you have pointed out, I left a bit of background out of the story. So here it is:
Voldemort is still alive, but probably won't be making much of an appearance in the first few chapters. When he does though, it'll be big. Also, about the changes that Harry went through: some explanation will be in this chapter, and most of the rest will be in the next.
This is a seventh year fic, and the sixth, and (obviously) seventh books haven't happened. I will go over the major events of Harry's sixth year at some point, probably sooner rather than later. There are other differences, but let's get to those in due course, shall we?
Also, I have Potions being a required course for all years, just like Transfiguration, Charms and Defense against the Dark Arts. I think it's kind of backwards to have what seems like such a necessary class not a requirement.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the recognizable characters/places.
September 1, 1997
"I think Potter is a vampire," Sophia announced that night once we were in the safety of our dorm. That's the good thing about Slytherin. After third year, you can choose who you want to be in a room with. Age and sex didn't matter. So my friends and I had a room all to ourselves to sleep in, even though we spent most of our time in the common room.
"Say what?" said Blaise.
"I think Potter is a vampire," repeated Sophia.
"That sounds like something Loony Lovegood would say," I said.
"Think about it," insisted Sophia. "The signs are there. He shows signs of bloodlust after he kisses you and you have a cut on your lip. You act like you've never acted over anyone over the fricking boy-who-lived who you've barely talked to before this. And then there's his proficiency in wandless magic."
"So?" I asked, going over what Sophia had said with a bit of nervousness. "Your 'signs' are bloodlust, sexual allure and the rumored-but never proven- vampiric magic? Two of those I can explain as him being Harry Potter. Who knows what he's capable of? He has survived the Dark Lord more times than anyone other than Dumbledore. So that's your bloodlust and wandless magic explained. The lust… I dunno. Also, how was he walking around in plain daylight yesterday then?"
"True, true," mused Sophia. "Like you said though, who knows what Potter's capable of? He may have found a way around it."
"If there was a way around it, don't you think it would have been found by now?" I asked.
She shrugged. "I still think he's a vampire."
That was Sophia. She could be as stubborn as a female Weasley if she wanted to be.
"Wonderful," I said. "Good for you, really."
I was a bit miffed that Sophia was accusing Potter of being a vampire. I don't think I minded the vampire bit at all- in fact, if the rumors I've heard are true, vampires make the best lovers- but it was still a bit upsetting.
Blaise interrupted before Sophia and I could get into an argument. These occurred rather often between me and at least one of the others. We are all best friends and everything, but originally it was all about gaining power in the House, so we are all quite different.
Sophia was the intellectual one, first in our year, something we always found time to lord over Granger. Blaise was the politically savvy one, a natural born politician. Tracey was the voice of common sense if any of us got too wild in our ideas, which happened quite a lot, as well as being able to read people extremely well. I was chosen to be the "leader" because I was a good balance of all of the above, the best with a wand, and my "ice-queen" persona is a good one for someone in my position to have.
"What are you going to do about Malfoy and the contract?" he asked before Sophia could respond to my comment.
"Oh. Actually, I think Potter might be my solution to that," I said. I quickly explained my plan, which the others all immediately agreed with. This was a rather monumental, as at least one of them tends to disagree on the initial idea at least.
When I was done, Sophia jumped back in with her vampire nonsense.
"If Potter is a vampire like I think, wouldn't that have some sort of effect though? With all the anti-magical creature legislation the Ministry has passed over the past 20 years…" she said, trailing off.
"Look," I said, rubbing my forehead, "I'll ask Potter if he's a vampire next time I see him. Stop mentioning it, please."
"Besides," Blaise said, jumping in, "There has been no legislation obstructing marriage to magical creatures. The Wizengamot seems to be under the assumption that no witch or wizard in their right mind would willingly marry a magical creature, so they've only passed legislation concerning the rape of a witch or wizard by one."
And this is why different skill sets are amazing.
"Wonderful," said Tracey, "Now you can go get married to the Gryffindor Golden Boy and live happily ever after."
"I think someone's just jealous because she can't figure out what's going on between her and one Neville Longbottom," I teased.
"N-nothing," spluttered Tracey. "Absolutely nothing, that's what."
"Keep telling yourself that, I'm going to bed. G'night," I said, moving over to my bed and climbing in. A silencing charm and a few minutes later, I was fast asleep.
September 2, 1997
Tracey was apparently in a speculative mood the next morning.
"I think that the two new professors are a couple," she said as she piled sausages onto her plate.
"Mmppff?" What? My mouth was full of pancake.
"They're sitting rather close to each other, don't you think?"
Well, maybe they were sitting a bit closer to each other than normal people would.
"So? Doesn't mean a thing," I responded once I swallowed.
"Then neither does your little snog session with Potter," she replied, rolling her eyes.
I probably should believe her. She is the people person of the group, after all.
"So, who'd they make Head of Slytherin then?" I asked, changing the subject.
"That would be me, Miss Greengrass," said a voice behind me.
I turned and saw my favorite Professor, Sinestra, with a stack of parchment.
"Schedules," she said, handing me mine.
Hmmm, today would be interesting. Defense against the Dark Arts and Potions, both with the Gryffindors. What luck. Something caught the corner of my eye, and I looked over to see Potter smirking at me and pointing to his schedule. Wonderful.
Then, of course, my sister saw him.
"Potter's staring at you, you know," she said after she marched up to me. She acted like she was royalty, and I think she expected to inherit the title of Queen of the House after I left. Sorry sis, it doesn't work that way, and you act much too like a pampered princess to do anything. Entitlement. Blegh.
"Is he?" I asked, not particularly fazed.
"Yes, he is."
"And this needs to be brought to my attention why?"
"Because he's Harry bloody Potter, that's why! He's not allowed to look at you like that."
"Oh, really? Two things. Potter is a male, and so, like almost every other male, he likes to stare at females. Also, if it were a problem, it would be taken care of. It isn't, so don't bother."
She had a lot to learn, especially if she wanted to be in a position of power in the House. Picking your battles was important, especially if they weren't actually battles, or even problems at all. Not that she knew something was going on with me and Potter.
Astoria's eyes narrowed.
"And why, exactly, is it not a problem?" There were the hands on the hips. You'd think she was my mother.
"Because I don't particularly care whether or not anyone stares at me. Let them, it's not like they'll get anything out of it. Also, think about who you're trying to order you around. I am your older sister and I control most of the House. I can make your life living hell if I wanted to, Astoria. Watch it."
We'd never been particularly close.
"And then mother and father will have your head." She looked smug. She was the perfect daughter, according to my parents. And who was it that was caught in broom closets with different boys every week? Who was it that got only four OW.L.s? Not me.
"I don't care what they do. They're sentencing me to life in hell with fucking Malfoy. They can't do any worse to me."
"And what's so bad about Draco?" Oh, right. She'd always had a crush on the ponce. "He's so dreamy."
"Then go ahead and marry him then. We'll both be happy."
Apparently she had no response to that, for she stormed back over to her seat at the other end of the table. I sighed and returned to my food, a bit of a smile playing on my lips. Why hadn't I asked my parents why Astoria couldn't marry Malfoy? Save the world a whole lot of trouble, that would. I had an owl to send.
Defense against the Dark Arts started out normally enough. By "normally enough," I mean that it was normal until Professor Reynolds walked in ten minutes late. He was wearing a muggle t-shirt that read "Revolution is my Name" and shorts.
"Sorry about that, I had some business to take care of," he announced. Was that an American accent? "Now, a quick introduction before I begin today's lesson. As you can probably tell from my accent, I am American. I studied at the American Magical Institute and joined their auror corps after I graduated. I am 26 years old and that's enough about me.
"Now, if there is anything I want you to get out of this course, it is these two things. One: use any means necessary to defeat your opponents. Magical or muggle, "dark" or not, if your life is endangered, use whatever you can. If you die because you were too proud or clung to false beliefs, then that is your own fault. Two: fitness. Fitness, fitness, fitness. Being fit can vastly expand your magical reserves, as well as increase your ability to avoid spells and escape life threatening situations.
"This class is about teaching you how to survive the fights that many of you will find yourselves in. I want to prepare you for what is out there, and that means teaching you more than just one way of fighting. Today will be a demonstration day. Starting with this. This, for those of you who do not know what it is, is a gun. A Desert Eagle to be precise. Now, who can tell me the advantages of a gun? Yes, Mr…"
"Potter, sir. A bullet is much faster than any spell, and most witches or wizards do not know what a gun is, so they will not conjure a physical shield. Bullets are also almost impossible to dodge," said Potter.
Many of my fellow Slytherins snorted, and Professor Reynolds noticed this immediately and pointed at one of them.
"You had something to say, Mr…"
"Nott. There is no way that the idiotic muggles could possibly have created something better than magic," he said.
"You would be surprised, and this viewpoint is another thing I will try to pound out of you. Muggles are by no means inferior to wizards. If anything, it is the other way around. If we were to go to war with the muggles right at this moment, the muggles would win hands down. First off, there are around six billion muggles in the world, and only about four or five million wizards. They would win with just sticks and stones because of their sheer numbers. Second, they have perfected killing into a science. This gun, as I will demonstrate, is extremely powerful and it's not the most dangerous gun out there. They also have these things called nuclear bombs that are powerful enough to level whole cities. The main reason that we have the secrecy laws is not for the protection of the muggles, as people like Dumbledore claim, but for the protection of wizards."
He conjured a wooden dummy and put his wand away.
"Now, first I am going to use a piercing curse on the target so that you can get a comparison. Who wants to count to three for me? Yes, Mr…"
"Longbottom."
"Alright, Mr. Longbottom. Whenever you're ready."
"One… two…three."
Once Longbottom reached three, Professor Reynolds drew his wand faster than I had ever seen anyone draw one. He cast a silent diffindo at the target and we watched as the spell cut a neat hole in the dummy's head.
"Now, I am going to do the same thing with a gun," he said, repairing the target. "On your go, Mr. Longbottom."
"One…two…three."
Only a second later a bullet smashed its way through the dummy's head, much faster than the spell.
"You see what I mean?" asked Professor Reynolds after he put away the gun. "Much faster, just as effective and, perhaps best of all, does not use up any energy at all. Now, I realize that most of you will not be willing or able to use muggle technology, so my main job is to teach you how to duel. I showed you the gun to let you know what's out there, but most of what I will teach you is magical.
"Now, here is how this class will work. I will not take or give points. Instead, punishments will be a bit more… personal. I will not tolerate intolerance of any kind and any such behavior will result in detention. With me. And it will not be pleasant. After today, we will meet on the seventh floor at the statue of Barnabas the Barmy. Mondays will be fitness days, Wednesdays will be theory days and Fridays will be dueling days.
"Now, I believe that a demonstration duel is in order. This is where I expect you to be at the end of the year. Now then Mr. Potter, I was told that you are the best in your year in this class, so how about we give it a go?"
Potter shrugged and stood up, ignoring the death glare he was receiving from Granger. He walked confidently up to the area that Professor Reynolds had cleared for the duel while Professor Reynolds cast a protective dome around it. When he was done, he turned and faced Potter.
"Now then. No unforgivables and no intentionally lethal spells, is that alright Mr. Potter?" he asked.
"Sure," replied Potter.
"Oh, and no guns," added Professor Reynolds with a smirk. He removed his pistol and put it in a box on his desk.
Potter sighed and grinned ruefully while doing the same with his. Several shocked gasps were heard, especially from the Gryffindors and I smiled slightly. Obviously they didn't know their Golden Boy as well as they thought they did.
"Now, Longbottom, on your go," said the Professor, settling into a dueling stance I had never seen. Potter got into a classic offensive stance as Longbottom counted down.
"One…two…three."
Immediately, Potter cast a flurry of hexes at the Professor who dodged them with ease. Aha, an avoidance stance. Most duelers in Britain did not use them. Professor Reynolds continued dodging Potter's spells, shielding occasionally, but only out of necessity. He was judging his opponent before he made a move. Suddenly, a bright light erupted out of Potter's wand and his famous stag patronus charged the professor. I could see he was surprised and he got hit by Potter's follow-up to his left arm, a bone breaker if the resulting snap was any indication.
I could see that Potter believed he had won, but he continued casting at the Professor who was wincing slightly. Instead of dodging, Professor Reynolds flicked his wand and a silver shield sprang into existence, reflecting the spells back to Potter. Eyes wide, Potter dove to the side, obviously not expecting that.
"Well done," said the Professor as his stance shifted into a truly offensive stance. With a flick of his wand, spells began screaming towards Potter who was put fully on the defensive. He relied extensively on shields, but was forced to switch shields every few seconds as Professor Reynolds would switch spell classes. However, several spells got through and Potter was again forced to dive to the side.
Deciding to try to return to the offensive, Potter conjured several rocks the size of his fist and sent them careening towards his opponent. The Professor easily transfigured them into ravens and sent them back at Potter who conjured a rock wall that the birds smashed into. As soon as he had transfigured the rocks, Professor Reynolds began muttering under his breath and fire streamed out of his wand towards Potter.
Potter realized that he was trapped and stayed behind the rock wall, fire streaming around it. The Professor released his wand, which remained floating in midair and shooting fire, and ran silently towards the rock wall. Through the fire. Neat trick. With a huge jump, he landed on top of the wall and dropped down right next to an unsuspecting Potter. A quick jab to the head later, Potter was unconscious.
The Professor waved his hand and his wand stopped shooting fire and floated towards him. Potter's rock wall disappeared a second later and Professor Reynolds revived Potter after bandaging his arm.
"Excellent duel, Mr. Potter," he said, "although I do not believe you were using your true power. No matter. If I forgot to mention it, rewards will come in the form of private training with me. And for that duel, Mr. Potter, I have a free evening tomorrow. Also, stay after class, I have something to discuss with you. You may sit down now."
Potter returned to his seat and the Professor continued.
"Now, before you leave, you will write down what you think your skill level is compared to this duel and, most importantly, why. This will tell me what you need to work on and which of you have big heads. And you will be writing with these."
With a flick of his wand, muggle notebooks and pens appeared on everyone's desk.
"Each of your notebooks are connected to my master notebook, meaning you do not have to turn them in. Your work does not automatically appear in mine. To submit your work, you will have to tap the bottom corner of each page you worked on with your wand. Begin. And yes, for those of you unaccustomed to them, you do have to use the pens."
With a grin I grabbed the pen and quickly scribbled down my opinion on my abilities. I considered myself to be almost at Potter's skill level in that duel, although I knew he had not used his full potential. I had a sneaking suspicion that the Professor didn't either. I needed to work on my shields most of all.
I exited the class with Sophia, Blaise and Tracey a few minutes later thoroughly pleased with the quality of this teacher. This would easily be our best year in this class, although I did enjoy Professor Lupin's class in third year.
"Hey, what happened to asking Potter about his little problem?" asked Sophia as we headed down to our dorm to grab our potions supplies.
"I'll ask him after potions," I responded, rolling my eyes. "He's being held after class, remember?"
We arrived at the Potions classroom with plenty of time to spare, but surprisingly the class was still almost full. I guess people wanted to find out what the new professor was like. We sat down in our usual seats towards the front. It was good to see that everyone remembered who sat here.
Right when class was supposed to start, Professor Sullivan walked in. We got a better look at her than we had the previous night or this morning, and I was quite impressed. She was extremely beautiful, but had a look in her eyes that said she would not tolerate any shit. Like Professor Reynolds, she wore a muggle outfit, a simple t-shirt and jeans. She would probably be a distraction for most of the males in the class. Glancing around, I saw many of them trying to hide their stares. Weasley wasn't even trying to hide his, staring slack jawed as the Professor made her way to the front of the class.
"Good morning and welcome to N.E.W.T potions," she said after she reached her desk. "I am Professor Sullivan, as you hopefully know by now. I think that a short introduction would be helpful. I am 27 years old and was trained at the American Magical Institute. Out of school, I joined the American version of your aurors. Any questions? Yes, Mr…"
""Weasley" said Weasley, standing up. "Why are you wearing muggle clothes?"
"Muggle? Oh, we call them mundanes back in America. And I am wearing this outfit because I like it, it's functional and it's what everyone wears in America. Frankly, I advise all of you to do the same, at least in this class. Robes are much more likely to get caught on fire, knock things over and be a general nuisance in a potions classroom. Any more questions?
"Alright then. Today we will be making the potion of regrowth. It is an extremely hard potion; I am just having you make it so I can judge your skill level. Yes, Miss…"
"Granger. This potion isn't in our books," said Granger, with a hint of panic in her voice.
"Ah, yes. This potion would not be in your books, Ms. Granger, because it is an American potion, used by the Indian tribes of the Pacific Northwest to help the forest grow. I find that the textbooks available here in Britain are a bit, excuse my French, shitty. It is for this reason that I didn't assign a book for this class, so I am wondering, Ms. Granger, why you think I did. And the point you brought up is another reason I want you to make this potion. I want you to know how to make a potion with your own skills, not those of someone who happened to write a book.
"Now, for this potion, I want you to work alone. Most of the time, you will be working in pairs that I will assign after I find out your skill level. Ingredients are in the supply cabinet and instructions are on the board. Begin."
There was an immediate rush for the supply cabinet. Idiots. They didn't even know what they needed yet. It was only after the crowd around the cabinet had died down that my friends and I got our ingredients. The potion did turn out to be rather hard, much harder than anything Snape would have assigned. Not that my friends and I couldn't handle it.
Periodically, I would look over and check out how Potter seemed to be doing. Without Snape breathing down the back of his neck and Granger yelling at him for one reason or other, he seemed to be doing… extremely well?
"Excellent, Mr. Potter," said the Professor as she passed by his cauldron. "Stay after class."
I groaned. What was with Professors asking him to stay after class today? The faster I was able to ask him whether he was a vampire or not, the faster I would be able to get Sophia off of my back.
Class ended and from the grumbles I was hearing, especially from Granger's direction, most of the class had not finished the potion. I caught Potter smirking as he handed in his potion. Seems like he enjoyed Granger's failure more than I did.
I lounged outside of the potions classroom, waiting for Potter to leave. My friends had deserted me in favor of lunch, leaving me all on my lonesome.
Nah, I made them. I didn't want them eavesdropping on this conversation.
My head snapped up as Potter left the classroom, door shutting silently behind him. He walked past me, seemingly ignoring me, even though I knew he knew I was there. I pushed off the wall and fell into step beside him, leaving the silence for a few minutes.
"I want to talk to you," I said finally, glancing over at his face.
"Yeah?"
"Not here. Somewhere private."
"And where would you suggest, my lady?" There was his crooked grin. Eight words. Must be some kind of record.
"I know there's an unused classroom around here somewhere," I said as we turned a corner. "Aha."
We entered the classroom, each putting our own security charms on it before we began speaking.
"So," I started, "Sophia has this… theory about you."
"And what is this theory?"
"Well," I took a deep breath. "She thinks you're a vampire. I told her it was ridi- Why are you laughing?"
"What if I was?" he asked.
I think I gaped openly. He'd practically admitted to being one, because if he wasn't, I'm sure he would have started stuttering.
"Nothing. Just curious," I said, quickly regaining control of my face.
He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. I could jump him right now. And then he spoke again.
"No, I'm not. Well, not completely."
A/N: Well, there it is. Part of the explanation. On the subject of duels, I don't like cataloguing every single spell that everyone uses, so I may identify one or two, but for the most part, only those that hit their targets. Besides, good duelers never shout their spells, so how would Daphne know what they're casting?