I meant to have this out last Sunday, but life got in the way. Meh.
I realized there wasn't much in the way of Harry/Seb relationship going on. It was more of a Harry&Seb thing. So I put in some relationship fun.
This chapter was brought to you by Warriors by Imagine Dragons. LoL.
Thank you guys for reading :) it means a lot to me that people actually read my work
Harry breezed through the entrance hall, brushing past a surprised looking Slughorn. The man blinked for a moment, then released the door he had only moments ago opened and fast-walked to Harry's side, although the walk was more in the fashion of a waddle.
"Wait, wait!" he cried, and Harry simple kept walking, not slowing, but not speeding up as he wanted to. The man huffed and puffed. "I'm meant to show you around the school, dear fellow! It-
"That is not necessary." He stopped walking suddenly, causing Slughorn to stumble slightly at the abrupt stop, and gave the man a thin smile, which certainly did not meet his eyes. Slughorn gulped, suddenly realizing that this imposing man was frightening, without really understanding why. It seemed to simply be his presence- it made something inside him want to run, as if he were the prey before the predator.
Shoving that ridiculous notion aside, he drew himself up, and thrust out his hand. "Horace Slughorn, I'm the Potions professor here. A pleasure to meet you!" Harry eyed the hand disdainfully before taking it and shaking it. "I am Pravus Michaelis, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. But I'm assuming you knew that, yes?"
Slughorn nodded quickly, causing his prodigious jowls to jiggle in a rather disgusting way. "Of course, of course! Are you sure you don't want a tour? Hogwarts is rather large, and the stairs have a habit of moving, you see…"
Harry nodded. "I am sure I'll manage." He gave another thin smile, then turned and strode off, ignoring the suddenly much sharper eyes studying his back. He was well aware that while Horace Slughorn came off as a fat idiot, in reality he was a fat genius. The man acted the idiot while cultivating a rather large following of the best and brightest at Hogwarts, leaving him with influential contacts in nearly every department of the Ministry and most wizarding companies.
As a result, the man was quite good at reading people, and for that he had not bothered trying to act pleasant. If it would not fool Slughorn for a moment, there was no reason in trying.
He reached his new quarters and entered, eying the emerald covered bed with some amusement. Lying there was Sebastian, arms over his head and legs stretched out, for all the world looking like a satisfied cat.
"I hadn't expected to see you here so soon."
Sebastian's eyes opened, fixing him with ruby red. He smirked and sat up, rolling his shoulders. "I thought I would come ahead of time and explore this place. It is rather…interesting. I might find it charming if it weren't that this is where you nearly died several times." His eyes grew frigid at that, and he glared at the stone wall as if it had personally offended him.
"The castle didn't try to kill me, Sebastian. It was the people in it."
Sebastian continued glaring at the wall. "Nevertheless, I do not like this place." Harry decided to give up, and instead a teasing glint entered his eyes. "If you don't like it, go ahead and punch it. Will that make you feel better?" His voice grew close to cooing at the end, as if here talking to a baby. Sebastian transferred his glare from the wall to Harry, looking personally affronted. "I am not a baby, Harry."
The teasing glint in Harry's eyes went from teasing to wicked in moments, and he purred out "Of course you aren't. If you were, I wouldn't be able to do this." He climbed onto the bed resting atop Sebastian, and lowered his face until his lips were a hairs breadth from Sebastian's.
Instantly, Sebastian's eyes grew slitted and glowed, and his lips met Harry's in a forceful kiss. After a moment Harry pulled back, his own emerald eyes slitted and glowing now too. "I have about an hour before I am required to attend the welcoming feast in the Great Hall. Whatever shall we do in the meantime?" A sinful smirk spread across Sebastian's lips.
(Imagination time peoples.)
Albus Dumbledore was confused. First, Jeremiah had apparently decided not to come back and teach, contrary to what he had told Albus.
Secondly, a man Dumbledore had never met before, yet Jeremiah said was one of his own students had taken Jeremiah's place.
Third, the students were almost done being sorted, and yet the man still had yet to show up. All teachers were required to attend the feast, unless they had other duties to fulfill such as leading the first years to the castle.
Where in the blazes was the man?
As if summoned by the very thought of him, the doors slammed open, and in strode the man known as Pravus Michaelis. Dumbledore blinked, realizing the man was rather more attractive than he had been lead to believe. His hair was as slicked back and as red as fire, leaving the impression that his very hair was made of flames. His eyes, as cold as ice, were a vivid green, which contrasted rather spectacularly with his hair. His skin was pale and unblemished, and his jaw was narrow, with a smattering of red stubble. He was of average height, with a lithe and skinny build that gave off an impression of speed rather than strength.
He wore no robes, only black trousers with a black button down shirt. Nowhere on his person could Dumbledore see a wand.
Every student in the hall burst into excited whispers the moment they saw the man. Dumbledore couldn't blame him. He was one of the more interesting people had had seen in a long time, and for all the man's noticeability, he had never seen him, or even heard of him, before. This called for more study.
Harry sighed inwardly when he stepped into the Great Hall. He should have known Sebastian would make him late, and here he was, now the focus of every single person in the room.
The felt like bashing a few heads into the wall when he heard the tittering from the girls. He hadn't realized that being the one attractive being in the whole place would instantly make him the target of dozens of teenage crushes.
As he walked up to the teacher's table, he realized something that almost made a grin stretch across his face. He could easily make Sebastian the target of most of the girls, with a little subtle prodding on his part…it would serve Sebastian right for making him late. Of course, he would have to carefully supervise, in case Sebastian lost it and tried to eat a few of the girls' souls.
That is, if he wasn't the one who tried first, he thought sourly as the whispering grew more pronounced and a few giggles were heard.
He sat at the only empty seat, in between Slughorn and Dumbledore. Oh, joy, more happy fun times.
Why had he thought teaching here was a good idea again?
Dumbledore smiled the same smile Harry remembered so well, although the twinkle in his eyes was not quite as bright. He barely stopped himself from snarling in disgust at the fact that the man's very soul was twinkling and cheerful along with him, although there was certainly a dark undertone that was rather interesting. He assumed that the dark part came from the whole 'I may have killed my sister' guilt Dumbledore felt. "Mr. Michaelis! I am Albus Dumbledore, the Transfiguration teacher." He held out his hand, looking at Harry expectantly. Harry eyed it for a moment before deciding he had no intention of shaking it, and instead ignored it and turned to his empty plate. He almost laughed aloud at the shocked and indignant air that was radiating off of Dumbledore now.
Slughorn leaned over, not quite hiding the amusement in his eyes, and said "Simply say what you want and it will appear. It is good to see you again, my dear fellow!" he added.
Harry nodded, telling the plate his order. It appeared, and he started eating rather mechanically, not even registering any taste other than dust on his tongue. All that tasted good to him now was a human soul. He wistfully thought of sucking that overtly cheerful soul out of an old man, his terrified blue eyes staring in his with no twinkle to be seen.
He was torn from his reverie by a chorus of outraged children derisively sneering "Mudblood?!" His eyes flicked from where he had been staring into space on the ceiling to the Slytherin table, where, predictably, Tom Riddle sat stiffly, glaring down all the horrified pureblood children.
No doubt there would be much hexing to be had before Riddle learned enough dark spells to terrify them all into worshiping the ground he walked on. As of now the boy wasn't worth noticing.
Harry returned to staring into space, this time imagining the bloody dismemberment of Albus Dumbledore.
Harry sat at his desk, staring into space, yet again. There was only a minute until he had his first ever class, Gryffindor fifth years. Why it had to be Gryffindors, he didn't know. He would much rather deal with some Ravenclaw seventh years.
He heard loud voices rumbling outside the room, and in the students flooded. They chattered happily, none of them noticing him. He was not very surprised by this, considering he had his strongest disillusionment spell on at the moment.
Eventually all the students were in their seats, wands and books placed on the tables in front of them.
"Where the heck is he?" One boy asked, irritably.
"I have no idea" one girl answered, and then a dreamy look spread across her face. "I hope he gets here soon."
"Is this guy late to everything?"
Other students started interjecting, until most were having their own conversations, every single one centered on him. He sighed. They were very obviously not Slytherins. No Slythering would talk so openly about someone where that person could hear.
With a lazy flick of his wrist, he removed the disillusionment charm, revealing him reclining in his office chair with his legs propped on the desk.
Every student jumped, and then stared, until one girl squealed "That's the disillusionment spell, isn't it! I've always wanted to try it! Does this mean you're teaching it to us?"
He fixed her with a hard stare, and she wilted, looking ashamed of her outburst.
"No, I will not be teaching the disillusionment spell to any of you anytime soon."
One student hesitantly raised his hand, and Harry nodded at him to speak. "Um, Professor…What is a disillusionment spell?"
"It is a spell that renders the affected essentially invisible by bending light to go around that person," he answered, leaning further back into his chair. Most students were staring at the impossible angle the chair was now at, wondering how it hadn't fallen or if magic was keeping it up.
"Now, can anyone tell me the drawbacks of such a spell?"
The same girl who had spoken earlier raised her hand eagerly, seemingly over her brief bout of shame. He nodded to her. "If someone already knows you're there, it will be completely ineffective."
"Correct. Can you tell me why?"
"All it does is bend the light. It doesn't actually make a person invisible, so if you know they are there is a simple matter of simply ending the spell with finite incantatum," she answered promptly.
"Excellent work. Now…"
As it turned out, he was actually very good at teaching. He did not hate it, but he did not like it either. It was simply something that was necessary.
It had been amusing listening to what the students thought of him. The general consensus was that he was a good teacher, albeit a strange one. Most seemed puzzled with the dichotomy of his generally lazy attitude and his ability to make even the bravest student quake in their robes with one hard glance. There was a betting pool going around Gryffindor on who could get him to smile, as not one student could truthfully say they had seen him smile. He had not done this on purpose, but now that he was aware it bothered them that much, he would make a point not to smile in front of a student.
Once, Dumbledore had approached him, asking why he had never given or taken house points. He had clearly explained he thought the points useless, as they only contributed toward winning a house cup that in the long run was worth nothing, other than the ability to rub it in the faces of the other houses. Of course, he also explained, that only advantage was also useless if the people whose faces you were rubbing it into did not care who got the house cup, which rendered the cup even more useless. He left behind a Dumbledore who regretted ever bothering to ask.
Riddle was predictable. He got perfect grades, and spent every second of his free time inside the library. He still failed at stopping or even retaliating to the common attacks on his person by other Slytherins. As a result, he was in the Hospital Wing at least once every few weeks, although it was obvious this was because the injuries became too much for him to simply ignore.
Harry continued to ignore him, which seemed to frustrate the boy to no end. Most teachers at this point were raving that he was a genius, and also predictable, Dumbledore was the only one other than Harry that seemed not to adore the child. Of course, where Harry was ambivalent, Dumbledore actively disliked Riddle from the very beginning. He took points whenever possible, and never gave points for any good work Riddle did in his class. He was instantly suspicious of Riddle whenever he encountered him outside of the classroom, and even inside it.
What amused Harry was that his ambivalence seemed to frustrate Riddle even more than Dumbledore's dislike. He seemed vexed as to how one person could be so neutral toward another so constantly.
Harry assumed it was because he had never been treated with ambivalence before. Everyone Riddle had ever met had either hated him or adored him. There was no middle ground.
Sebastian seemed to be a mystery to everyone but the teachers. He did not teach, but was constantly seen by Pravus' side. There was wild speculation in the students on who he was, but no one even suggested he was Harry's lover. It was comedic how the homophobia of the time made all the children treat the subject as a taboo, despite how the answer was so obvious. The teachers thought Sebastian was Pravus' brother, and that he was there simply because he had nowhere else to go.
School continued on in this manner for a few years.
Harry was sitting on a chair in the library of his quarters, flipping through a book on physics, when he heard a knock on the portrait entrance to the rooms. He snapped the book closed and approached the door, opening it and being faced with a pale Dumbledore and a terrified looking Slughorn.
"Pravus, a girl has died!" Dumbledore burst out, sounding slightly hysterical. Instantly Harry snapped to attention, his back straightening as his eyes sharpening. He had known that soon Myrtle would be dead, but he had not expected it so soon.
"Armando has requested your presence at the…" Here Dumbledore paused, as if searching for the word.
"Scene?" He nodded, seeming at a loss, his eyes slightly unfocused. Harry nodded. "Where is it?"
Dumbledore glanced at the dazed looking Slughorn before answering "The girls bathroom, the one no one uses. Apparently there was no immediately obvious cause of death, and Armando thought you would be the best to surmise how she died."
Harry nodded and without another word strode off, leaving Dumbledore and Slughorn behind.
Upon arrival at the bathroom, the first thing he noticed was absolutely nothing put in place to keep the children out. He rolled his eyes at yet another instance of wizards lacking common sense, and cast an age line around the door. No child would be getting in.
When he stepped into the bathroom, his eyes instantly fell on the corpse of the rather ugly girl with horn rimmed glasses.
Armando hurried forward, ringing his hands worriedly. "Pravus, Pravus, so good of you to come. We must investigate this, we have to, we can't have children dying, you see…"
Harry restrained himself from slapping the man into the wall. "Of course I understand, Armando. No need to be worried. We will, of course, have to alert the authorities, but I would like to examine the girl first." Here he glanced at the body rather exaggeratedly, and Dippet got the point. "Yes, yes, of course, go ahead; I knew I could count on you. I will go firecall the minister." He glanced back at the body and shivered, before he turned, practically running out of the bathroom.
Harry knelt by the corpse, already calculating what exactly to do.
She had died via basilisk stare, he already knew that. Absent mindedly, he reached out with his magic, trailing it over her body. He blinked when he felt the dark magic in her, so potent it must have been used very recently. Why would Riddle use dark magic when the basilisk was already doing the killing? He knew that while basilisks were dark creatures, their stare did not leave traces of dark magic.
Narrowing his eyes, he dug deeper. The magic at her core was light of course, yet there was a certain piece missing. He sighed when he realized exactly what Riddle had done.
He had taken the very center of her core, the piece of the core that was as to the magic in her body as the spinal cord is to the nervous system. Harry knew of plenty of rituals that, from there, he could have used to strengthen himself.
The question now was what to do about it. He had no intention of stopping Riddle at this point. What he could do, however, is erase the evidence from Myrtle's body or leave it for anyone to find. Of course, even if he did leave it, whether or not the Aurors would notice was another thing entirely.
Being able to consciously control magic as he did was extremely rare, mainly because of the amount constant work and practice it required, but also because you had to already be more in tune with your magic than most to be able to do it. He doubted any of the Aurors could do as he had and notice the missing piece of her core, much less know what rituals it could be used in.
No, there was no point in hiding the evidence at all. If they found it they found it, but for the moment he would simply say she had died of a stopped heart. He doubted they would notice the sarcasm there.
He was grading papers when he heard a knock on his office door. He didn't glance up, merely yelling "Enter" while marking the current paper with an Acceptable.
The door opened, and he instantly recognized the soul that spread around him. Dark and filled with hatred. It was hard to decide whether he wanted to devour it or not, as there was a certain sliminess to it that had appeared not so long ago. He assumed it was because Riddle had made his first horcrux.
He glanced up, taking in the handsome picture. He had to admit, Riddle had been a fine specimen before he had decided noses were overrated. Of course, he was graduating after this year, and after that he would create so many horcruxes his body wouldn't be able to help its deterioration. How the man had ever thought a weak soul would make him stronger, he didn't really know.
He said nothing, only returning to grading his papers. He heard footsteps, and noted that Riddle was approaching his desk.
"Sir, may I have a moment of your time?" His voice was soft, and he was using the same tone he had used with Slughorn. The boy must want something.
He said nothing still, waiting for Riddle to continue. Riddle, having somewhat expected the non-reaction, decided to forge on.
"As you know, I am graduating this year, and I intend to get my mastery in Defense Against the Dark Arts. You have a mastery, and teach well, so I was wondering if you would take me as your apprentice once I graduate?"
Harry marked the current paper with a T for Troll, before setting aside the papers and placing the quill on his desk. He looked up, and studied Riddle. He hadn't expected that. As far as he knew, once Riddle had graduated, he had gone to Borgin & Burkes, where he had worked only to find more founders items to be used as horcruxes.
"No, Mr. Riddle, I don't think I will." He fixed Riddle with a hard stare, silencing the protest he had known was about to come. "My answer is final." He picked up his pen again, and pulled the remaining papers over, resuming grading them.
Riddle remained still for a moment, before saying "May I ask why, sir?" He did not answer, only marking the current paper with an E.
Riddle's fists clenched, in what Harry assumed was the only way he allowed himself to show temper. Riddle did have remarkable self-control, but temper seemed to be a weak point now and in the future.
"Sir, I have been nothing but the perfect student from the moment I entered your class. I have never received anything lower than an O on any assignment or exam in your class, and am considered a prodigy by nearly every teacher in this school." That the only ones who didn't were Pravus and Dumbledore went implied. "Despite this, you still will not take me on as your apprentice?"
That speech was expected. He doesn't look up, and instead answers "Yes." T for Troll again. Really, these children need to learn how to get their facts straight.
He keenly hears the sound of Riddle's footsteps to the door, and the noise of the door slamming shut is deafening in the sudden quiet of his office. He sets his quill down again, leaning back in his chair, green eyes gleaming in the darkness.
Soon Riddle was graduating, and not long after that he and Sebastian would be leaving. They would wait for his childhood to be over, and then the fun would begin. He smirked. Oh yes, it would be very fun indeed.