Surprise! I think this is the fastest I've had a chapter up, except for maybe chapter two. This is the result of a four day weekend with nothing to do.
I've given up trying to guess which chapter will be the real start of the drama. This thing is writing itself now. This is actually a much longer story than I was going to make it originally.
Now, I've had questions about the amulet Harry found in chapter two-three-ish. Some may have noticed its reappearance not too long ago. The amulet may or may not be plot related later. I put it in in the beginning to leave myself a story arc if i wanted to insert one about the amulet. I put its reappearance a few chapters ago to keep the option to myself open to put in a story arc. I don't know yet if I'll pursue it. It may just stay in that Gringotts vault with no reappearance for the rest of the story. Who knows? I certainly don't.
Also, on the whole 'there was no interaction with Tom' bit...Harry already taught one Dark Lord. Actually having him shape another Dark Lord would have been a bit of a stretch. Beyond that, there will certainly be interaction between Harry, Seb, and adult-sane Voldemort later on.
"Pravus!" Dippet's voice called, and he sighed, not exactly wanting to talk to the idiot of a Headmaster. Still, he obligingly turned, pasting a polite smile onto his face. "Yes, Headmaster?"
"You told me not long ago you may resign from your post. I was wondering if you still intended to do so?"
Harry considered for a moment that he did resign. No. He had no intention of doing so. That would just create more boredom. At least teaching was something to do to while away the years until the fun started. "No. I decided to continue teaching. Why?"
"Why, Tom Riddle expressed an interest in the Defense the Dark Arts Post. I was simply wondering if you were resigning, as he would be a good teacher, don't you think? Such a bright young man…" He walked off, and Harry didn't even consider the inherent rudeness of the action. It seemed Riddle was still resentful of his refusal to take him on as his apprentice, and had attempted to take his job.
He doubted Riddle would succeed. A strange person he might be known as, but he was also known as a very good teacher. It would take a lot before Dippet would fire him and replace him with Riddle.
Harry stared, not really knowing how to feel. Here, in front of him, was his mother and father. He had dimly realized in some part of his mind that they were not actually dead, and were going to attend Hogwarts, putting them on a collision course with him, but he had not consciously realized it.
His eyes took in green eyes, red hair, and a childishly round face. Messy black hair with hazel eyes covered by glasses with a similarly childish face. He looked around, and noticed the amber eyed and brown haired Remus, with the shaggy, black haired Sirius next to him. The sniveling Peter was in the back corner of the room, seemingly attempting to escape notice of everyone in it.
He waited a moment for some kind of emotion, anything, and shrugged inwardly when none was forthcoming. He felt nothing looking at these children, his future parents though they may be. Of course, the fact that they were here gave him a chance to look into how exactly he had become a demon. Until now he had been clueless, as there had been no way to check. With their arrival, however, it would be easy enough to check the Potter and Evans family histories.
His mother was a so-called muggleborn, so it would make sense if the gene had come from her side. Magic did not simply appear, so it was likely she was descended from a squib cast from a pureblood family. In that family perhaps there was a demonic ancestor.
Of course, to check all of this, he would need to convince the girl to take a Lineage Potion. The potion was actually rather painful, as it required a large amount of the person's blood, and at this point she was too young to give up that much blood without dying.
He had no intention of killing his mother and essentially killing himself just to sate his curiosity.
Clearing away all of these thoughts, he entered the classroom from where he had been observing, unseen by the children chattering away and waiting for class to start.
"Quiet." His words were sharp, and cut through the chatter as if they were a knife.
All the first year Gryffindors jumped and turn to stare at him. One particularly stupid boy exclaimed "Blimey! Where did you even come from?!" He turned his stare to the boy, and said icily "I was here standing here for the last five minutes. That none of you noticed is testament to just how oblivious all of you are."
The children flinched, as if he had just insulted them to their face. He re-analyzed what he had said and realized that to them, he had. These were first years. They were used to coddling and mincing of words. They would have to get used to him, then. He did not mince words unless he was trying to manipulate someone into doing something.
He strode toward the front of the room and sat at his desk chair, propping his feet on the desk. The students stared. Ah, he assumed they were also used to prim and proper teachers who did not lean back in their chair and place their feet on their desk.
"Tell me, anyone" he said "what is the spell expelliarmus used for?" There was silence. "None of you know?" Tentatively, Lily raised her hand. He fixed his eyes on her, and she looked down, not meeting his own. She was afraid of him. Hmm. "You."
"Isn't it the Disarming Spell?" He said nothing for a moment, then "I don't know. Is it?" She seemed startled then, and a frown appeared on her face.
"In the future, and this goes for all of you," here he swept his gaze across every student. "If you answer a question, it will not be with another question. Be confident in your answer, or no matter what it is wrong. Is that clear?"
All of the students nodded earnestly, eager not to get on his bad side. He returned his gaze to Lily. "Now. Answer again."
She seemed to draw herself up for a moment, before saying, much more confidently. "Expelliarmus is the disarming spell."
He nodded. "Yes, it is." Again, he swept his gaze across the class. "Well? Write this down." Instantly there was rustling, as the students withdrew quills and parchment from their bags.
As they were writing, he said, "Turn to chapter one of your books, read, and take adequate notes of what you deem important."
There was more rustling as the students turned to the chapter, and silence ensued as they began reading.
Harry sighed, as he held the two papers next to each other.
He had been grading the first essays he had asked his first year classes to write, on the importance of precise wand movement during spells.
It had gone relatively as expected, with some essays obviously cobbled or thrown together with little to no research, and some well written with good facts.
The worst, by far, was the essay by one Sirius Black and James Potter.
They had both written the exact same thing, in what he assumed was one copying the other.
Of course, this would not be too much of a problem if the one who had been copied from had not originally copied from a book on the subject in the library.
They had both plagiarized, blatantly, from the same book. He sighed again, then marked .both essays as a T for Troll.
*page break
He watched the two boys run into class late, laughing at something or other. He fixed them both with his trademark stare, making them both go quiet and shuffle sheepishly to their seats. "Potter, Black, see me after class." As one, they both flinched.
He proceeded with the class. When there was only a minute of class left, he passed out the essays, and, watched amusedly as they glanced, confused, at each other. They had not received their own back.
"You are dismissed." The students left, with most of them glancing pityingly back at Black and Potter. He realized, at that moment, that he was the Snape of the school, and nearly laughed aloud. He cleared his head of all amusement, however, when the boy boys reluctantly approached his desk.
"Sir?" Potter asked hesitatingly. Ah. It seemed they were going for the ignorant approach. "Do you know why you are here?" The both of them glanced at each other, then Black answered "You wanted to congratulate us on the perfect essays?" He grinned weakly, and Potter shut is eyes, as if waiting for a blow.
He narrowed his eyes, and snapped, "Do not joke, Black. Which of you copied from the other?" Neither of them spoke, while Potter glanced at Black. "I see" he said softly. "So Mr. Potter copied from Mr. Black. Were you aware, Mr. Potter, that Black got his own essay by copying from a book in the library?"
Again, neither spoke. "Let me be clear. I do not tolerate plagiarizing of any kind. The next time you copy, whether it is from your friend's essay or from a book in the library, then you will be out of this class. Am I clear?" The two nodded mutely, and he smiled at them, the smile appearing more as a baring of his teeth. The two visibly paled. "Good. Now, as to your punishment. I have no interest in wasting my own time in detention with either of you, so instead I will assign you a book. He took out two copies of the book Black had copied from, and set them in front of them both. "Since you both enjoy plagiarizing so much, you will both copy this book word for word in writing. I will know if you use spells of any kind. If there is one error when you turn it into me, I will make you do it again."
The both of them stared at him, speechless, wondering how someone could be quite so cruel. "Now go." They both grabbed a copy of the book, and practically ran out of his classroom.
"Ms. Evans," he called, and the girl turned from where she was walking down the hallway.
"Yes, Professor?" She asked, a nervous look on her face.
He smiled gently at her, saying, "No need to be worried, Ms. Evans, I just wanted a word with you. I've been working on a project for some time, and I was wondering if you would assist me?"
She blinked, obviously wondering how a student could help a teacher. "Oh, of course, whatever you need," she assured him, and he nodded, pleased.
"Good, good. Come to my office tomorrow after classes end."
The next day he was busy making the lineage potion, when he heard a slight knock on his office door. He waved his hand and the door flicked open. He didn't bother looking up, and instead spoke, "Good of you to come, Ms. Evans. Come here." He gestured at the space beside him, next to the cauldron with the bubbling potion.
She hesitant stepped forward, peering into the cauldron. "What is that, sir?"
"This," he said, "is a lineage potion. It will reveal your family tree." He sounded self satisfied. The potion was incredibly difficult to make, which was why few ever used it unless they could make it themselves. As a consequence of being so difficult to make, it was so expensive that few could afford to buy it, and even few had the skill to make it.
"My family tree?" she sounded mystified. "I am a muggle-born, sir. I don't have any magical ancestors."
He huffed, annoyed. "No one ever thinks it strange? That magic just...appears in some children of muggles, for no apparent reason? No, I have a theory that every muggle-born is descended from a cast out squib of pureblood families. This potion is to see if I am right, starting with you."
She was quiet, then, seemingly astonished by this. "I'll take it if you want me to, sir, but I don't know if the results will be what you think they are." No, the results might not, but he was fairly certain he was right. He ladled some of the potion into a bowl, and set the bowl on the counter.
He handed her a razor sharp knife. "Cut your hand over the bowl." At her shocked look, he reassured her, "Don't worry, I will heal the cut."
Hesitantly, she made a small cut on her palm, and the blood dripped into the bowl of potion. The potion glowed for a moment. Pravus waved his wand at her cut, and it disappeared as if it had never been there.
He spread a piece of parchment across the counter, then poured the bowl of potion over it. The potion instantly sank into the paper, before reappearing as red ink delineating a family tree piece by piece. "It may take a while," he said, "as family trees tend to be long, branching things." She nodded, but her eyes avidly absorbed every line revealed, and he sighed inwardly. There was no way he was going to be able to tear her from the thing. Ah, well, it couldn't be helped.
They sat there for around an hour, chatting about things Pravus had no true interest in but as her teacher he should be concerned about. She seemed surprised about his interest, which, really, revealed a lot about how his students saw him.
The family tree eventually ended on Evans, Lily with Evans, Petunia right next to her. He scanned upward, looking for any sign of a demonic ancestor. The blood with have to be fairly diluted, so he assumed it would be very, very far back.
And, ah, there it was, nearly at the very beginning. Andras. No last name, tied to another female name that meant nothing to him. He felt quite satisfied that his theory had been proven correct about the latent demon blood causing his own turning, although the going back in time part was still a mystery to him.
He handed the parchment to Lily, having no need of it anymore. "Here you are, Ms. Evans. It belongs to you." She smiled sunnily up at him.
"Thank you, sir!" she exclaimed, practically glowing, before turning and practically running out of the room.
ANOTHER DARK LORD: LORD VOLDEMORT RISES, MINISTRY TO BLAME?
For the past few months, many have been confused and panicking, as many ministry officials have shown up dead, with a peculiar mark of a skull eating a snake appearing above their bodies.
The ministry responded with one statement: "While the deaths of these honored people are troubling, they are being investigated by our Aurors. There is no need for panic or worrying."
Most were satisfied with this, and all of us were relieved to know that soon the threat would be gone, with the perpetrator or perpetrators sent to Azkaban.
This reporter, however, is not satisfied with this. Ministry officials are showing up dead, and the ministry does not appear to be handling it very well. More and more officials are dying, with what looks like no end in sight.
Rumors abound of a new Dark Lord, one who is set on ruling over the Wizarding World. Following these rumors, this reporter found something shocking:
A Dark Lord has indeed risen, and his name is Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord sent a missive to the ministry after the first killing, with this message:
"The Ministry of Wizarding Britain is lazy, incompetent, and corrupt. I, the Dark Lord Voldemort, plan on fixing this. The people named in the following list will resign or die:"
Sadly, this reporter could not find this list of names, but this speaks for itself. A Dark Lord has risen, and it seems our very own Ministry is to blame. Is Lord Voldemort cleansing our Ministry and doing the British Wizarding World a favor, or is he a menace to be hunted?
-Anonymous
(article from small newspaper that shut down not long after article was released)
THE HUNT: WHO FOLLOWS YOU-KNOW-WHO?
"…as more and more die by the hand of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers, the desperation of the ministry continues. While only yesterday five more followers were captured, this is not enough, as the hunt for You-Know-Who's followers continues.
The trials of the accused have generated few names, as the ones captured seemed determined to not give up their comrades.
The Ministry has released a message to all wizards and witches:
"Whoever follows this madman will be sent to Azkaban or kissed. Any support of him will not be tolerated. Whoever sees any suspicious activity, report it to a patrolling Auror immediately. You-Know-Who will be stopped."
You-Know-Who will kill anyone to complete his Dark agenda to rule the Wizarding World. We must all band together to face this threat…"
Arthurius Vansch
(excerpt from article published in the Daily Prophet)
Albus Dumbledore stared, dumbfounded, as a prophecy was emitted from the least likely of people. Sybill Trelawney was a hack, a fraud. He had gone into this interview expecting nothing concrete, and fully expecting not to hire her. This interview had been a courtesy, nothing more.
Yet here she was, eyes glazed, seemingly unaware of what was passing from her own lips.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...
born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...
and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...
and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...
the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies"
This changed everything. This was the key to defeating Voldemort. Trelawney had to be protected. She would be targeted once Voldemort heard of this prophecy.
As if on cue, Trelawney came back to herself, and smiled that dreamy little smile she had created simply because she thought it was the kind of smile a Diviner should have.
"Congratulations, Sybill, you are hired." He smiled at her, eyes twinkling. "You will of course, come to the castle to prepare for the year. You may stay there all summer if you like."
Trelawney blinked, surprised, but acquiesced quickly.
Harry, reclining by the pool in his and Sebastian's villa in Greece, ran his hand through Sebastian's hair. The both of them were cuddling, for lack of a better word, while enjoying the sun.
Sebastian gently kissed his collar bone, and then ran more kisses down his neck. Harry sighed, enjoying the light kisses, and tilted his neck to give Sebastian better access.
They had both decided that instead of watching the rather boring fight between the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters, they would enjoy the summer at their leisure.
Harry knew that Dumbledore would have asked him to join the Order of the Phoenix by now, if he even knew where Harry was or could reach him. There were anti-owl wards surrounding the villa, so not even any owls could find Harry or Sebastian. Of course, there was always the possibility that Dumbledore thought Harry had gone and joined Voldemort.
A preposterous idea. At the moment, the man was insane and had barely any soul left. Joining that madman when he knew Voldemort's remaining soul piece was going to be banished to some remote corner of the world soon would be idiotic.
Of course, he also had no intention of helping the Order of the Phoenix or Dumbledore. If he had given Dumbledore a chance to ask him to join, he would have had to refuse, and Dumbledore would have required a reason. No matter what reason he gave the man, Dumbledore would come to the conclusion that he was with Voldemort. 'If you're not with them, you're against them' as many said.
So here they both were, enjoying their time of solitude. He gasped slightly as Sebastian bit down, and their eyes met. Sebastian's ruby eyes were gleaming, daring him to retaliate. He growled playfully and attacked Sebastian's lips in a forceful kiss.
HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED DEAD, HARRY POTTER AKA BOY-WHO-LIVED SAVIOR OF WIZARDING WORLD
On what will surely be known as one of the greatest and most celebrated nights since Albus Dumbledore defeated the Dark Lord Grindlewald, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has also been defeated.
By who? Not by James Potter, the leader of the Aurors, or Lily Potter, a well-known Healer. No, You-Know-Who has been defeated by a mere babe, Harry Potter, the son of James and Lily Potter.
On October 31st, You-Know-Who entered the Potter house in Godric's Hollow, and slew both Lily and James. He then turned his wand on Harry Potter, and fired a killing curse.
The killing curse was turned on Voldemort instead, and little Harry lived, with only a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt as evidence that he survived the infamous killing curse.
Arthurius Vansch
It was only a few years before Harry Potter came to Hogwarts. Considering that Quirinius Quirrel needed to be a teacher for events to unfold as they should, predictably, Harry need to resign.
Harry approached Dumbledore's office, and the gargoyle jumped aside with a whispered "sugar quill." He strode up the stairs, and upon arrival at the top was met with a twinkly eyed gaze. "Pravus! How good of you to drop by."
Harry nodded stiffly, remaining standing and ignoring the chair Dumbledore gestured to. "Headmaster."
"Would you like something? Lemon drop, tea?" He poured himself a cup of tea. "No, thank you." He nodded and set the tea aside, regarding Harry over his half-moon spectacles. "I'm assuming this is not a social visit?"
Harry nodded. "I would like to resign, Albus." Dumbledore blinked, seemingly surprised, then nodded. "A pity. You have taught here for longer than most." Harry nodded. "Yes, it has been a rather long time. I think it is time to leave. The tides are changing."
Dumbledore glanced up sharply. He didn't miss the flash of suspicious. Ah, he suspected that Pravus was trying to raise his old master? It seems Dumbledore had never gotten rid of the suspicion that he had followed Voldemort. Considering he was leaving and Dumbledore was never going to see him while wearing this face again, he decided he might as well have fun.
"I would never stoop so low as to follow that madman, Albus, or as to try and bring him back. Do not worry. Tom Riddle will stay as dust on the wind." His lips curled upwards. "For now."
Dumbledore seemed speechless for a moment, before gathering himself. "You realize what you just admitted?"
The upward curl of his lip grew larger. "I admitted to a belief that Voldemort is not gone, and will return. Beyond that, I was reassuring you that I have no intention of being the one to instigate his return. No, that will happen with or without my help. Now, I will go acquire my things, and you will most likely never see me again. Vale."
With that, he turned and walked out of the office, leaving behind a very troubled Albus Dumbledore.
Vale- Latin for goodbye.
If anyone is wondering, I took inspiration for some of this from The Crucible and McCarthyism. If you don't know what either of those are, then you probably weren't wondering.