:: speech :: is Parseltongue
// speech // is mental speak
/:speech:/ is mental Parseltongue
oOoOoOo
oOoOoOo
"You can't really destroy a Horucrux in an object. Hermione said it was because you can't really kill something inanimate. Since I was a Horucrux myself, every time I destroyed one it would jump to me, as a living vessel." Harry sighs, shifting again in the large chair, hating that his feet either dangle impossibly high or stick off the ends when he is trying to be very adult and serious. "This turned out to be a very good thing since otherwise they would have gone to the next closest living Horucrux and likely that would have been Voldemort. Each time I destroyed one it became more and more obvious that this was the case. Every time I did the gathered soul bits would fight me for control.
"When I was made into a Horucrux, Voldemort simultaneously had his main soul displaced; otherwise I might have been overcome then and there. The next time he made a living Horucrux he had complete control over her. Of course, that time Voldemort used a snake. The second Horucrux I destroyed I hardly noticed as I was under a lot of stress. But the third… there were enough pieces to give me a real struggle.
"As for the last, I barely managed. Only due to my experience subverting them was I able to do it." Harry finishes finally, looking over at the two wizards. Both look a bit shocked. Voldemort lets out a mental noise/feeling roughly equivalent to an amused snort at the understatement. Harry rubs his throat to try to get the pain to ease a bit and takes another sip of the tea Dumbledore had poured him as he regards the two older wizards.
Riddle looks a bit green at the revelation that, had his mother not gone back to her family, he would be at this very moment leading an army of Dark wizards in a murderous rampage.
Dumbledore takes the fact that Riddle had become Voldemort more in stride, a fact Harry is not too surprised at seeing as he was trying to turn the man in an hour ago, but seems more disturbed that he hadn't done anything about the situation more personally. Harry does find this interesting and wonders again at his Headmaster's choice to send a young boy to fight a reincarnated Dark Lord when he himself had already defeated one.
/:Prophecies.:/ Voldemort says simply, with evident disgust in the mental voice. Though Harry is surprised at how close to his own thoughts the basilisk has crept while he was contemplating, he can't respond to the feeling with anything but complete agreement.
"Well, that certainly explains a lot." Riddle says finally.
"You can't say anything to anyone else." Harry says, scared at the reaction the two men are having. Despite his earlier bravado to Voldemort that he would let the Ministry take him in and do whatever they wanted, Harry really doesn't want to be locked up somewhere and poked and prodded. With his luck, it could literally be for all eternity. Dying is one thing, infinite torture quite something else.
Dumbledore regards Harry coolly after his outburst for a long while. "Very well." He says finally. "We will acquiesce to your wishes." Harry is startled at how quickly and formally he agrees.
"It certainly explains why you defeat Leglimency so easily. And why your spells in general are so powerful. With two souls' worth of magic, neither of which were weak, behind each spell, it's no wonder." Tom continues, his eyes unfocused and staring off at nothing and seemingly oblivious to the tension between Dumbledore and Harry.
At Riddle's assessment Albus narrows his eyes in something akin to anger. Harry, however, is stunned almost as much as Riddle seems to be. /:Of course it makes sense. You should have arrived at that explanation years ago. Or did you not notice that you were getting stronger after defeating each of my Horucruxes.:/ Voldemort asks rhetorically, knowing the answer and oozing derision at how thick Harry is. /I did notice it since waking here, but it's just you taking over my body!./ Harry protests hotly, snapping out of considerations of the implications. /:You really need it spelled out for you, don't you Potter. And even then you don't quite get it.:/ Voldemort smirks. Harry mentally smacks the basilisk as hard as he can, though it sets off waves of reciprocal pain for him.
"Perhaps, Harry, you should go back to your dormitory. I think it would be best if you continued classes as if nothing had happened while we look into this matter." Dumbledore says, not hint of a sparkle in his eyes now.
Harry nods and hops off the chair. He can't help feeling relief. He is so used to others doing the research, or at least directing him on what to do. Looking through newspapers is one thing, but he has no idea how to really go about theoretical spell construction. Plus there is the whole problem that anything he learns, so too will Voldemort. And with the Dark Lord's many more years of experience in Dark magics in general and soul magic particularly, any new insight will likely make infinitely more sense to him than to Harry. It is a partial relief of the burden, though, as Harry knows he cannot leave the two wizards on their own with the task. For one, Dumbledore at least will take the most expedient route "for the greater good" which usually turns out to mean "not for Harry's good".
Tom would probably try to stop the older wizard but Albus has already proven to be a wily adversary for a much older and more vicious version of the man. The sheer annoyance of finding Dumbledore's subtle plots bearing fruit and disrupting his own devious plans at every turn is enough to… Harry gasps and turns to the door and races out.
oOoOoOo
"Tom, snap out of it." Dumbledore says angrily, sitting back in his chair roughly. "I need to discuss this out loud and you are the only person I can do that with."
Tom is puzzled enough at the Headmaster's statement to refocus. "What do you mean, Albus?"
"Tom, do try to remember you are a Slytherin." Dumbledore almost growls, frustration evident in his every mannerism.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Next time a damaged child I've been caring for reveals he is carrying the souls of a grown man and myself as a maniacal despot from another dimension, I shall try to be more cunning." Tom says with a sneer.
Dumbledore starts at the comment, a smile almost breaking the cloud over his expression. "Point taken, Tom." Dumbledore sighs.
"So what's this about having to talk to me, specifically?"
Albus rubs his fingers over the bridge of his nose, pushing up his glasses. "When Harry told us not to tell anyone, he set a Command upon us."
Riddle's eyes widen. "Such a thing should not be possible without casting Imperious!" He gasps. "Harry must have told Severus to talk about his father."
Albus nods. "That would make sense."
"We need to ask him to lift it then." Tom says, shifting his weight forward to stand from the chair.
"Are you insane?" Dumbledore asks, frustrated and nearly yelling.
"No, but you are blinding yourself to Harry with this antagonistic attitude! I don't think he did this intentionally." Tom retorts.
"Since when do you believe in such good in a person?" Dumbledore asks, half in exasperation, half in bewilderment. In the past it was Albus restraining Tom from getting carried away with punishing child abusers, not the other way around.
"This isn't just anybody, Albus." Tom says, leaning back and rubbing his temples. "This is Harry, the boy I have held through nightmares, healed from curses darker than I care to contemplate and have spent countless hours getting to come out of his shell and heal."
"That boy is dead." Albus says coldly.
"No. They are one and the same. Harry has simply regained the memories that he was too traumatized to deal with before." Riddle leans forward with a light in his eye that Dumbledore is surprised to see. Not because it is an infrequent visitor to his friend's expression, but due to the person upon whom Riddle is focusing his fanatic zeal. "I've brought the boy this far and I am not giving up on him." Riddle grins, baring his teeth. "This time I get literally heal a broken soul!"
Dumbledore cannot entirely suppress his groan as he lets his head sink into his hand. Not only was that line over the top, the last time Tom got this worked up about something the entirety of Wizarding culture bowed before him. Albus wonders idly why exactly Tom cannot see himself as Voldemort.
"Imagine it, Albus! No one will ever be able to top settling a double souled time traveler. Circumstances like that only come about once in the life of a universe." Tom settles back in the chair with a pleased grin on his face. "In fact, it's probably a good thing we can't talk to anyone directly about this. Merlin knows we aren't the top experts in the field. We would quickly be overshadowed. But now…" Tom trails off, his expression going distant again, though this time in excitation not in fear. "It won't even seem odd for me to be researching soul magics. I had to dabble a bit into it to set up the Intention Device after all, I can say I'm trying to improve it."
"Be careful with that, Tom. We now have definitive proof of how badly meddling with one's soul can affect not only yourself but the multiverse." Albus feels compelled to caution, especially with the fanatical gleam in Tom's eye.
Tom looks over at the Headmaster ruefully. "Yes, you're right of course, Albus."
oOoOoOo
The next day is Herbology first thing. Harry anticipates that it will be quite boring as there are not all that many different ways of caring for plants. Professor Sprout is pretty much the same, as well, except for being much younger. Harry notes with some interest that she actually is the apprentice, though she does look much older than his parents, Sirius and Snape. The colorful woman with wild black hair streaked with grey is actually the professor and herself as Professor Juniper Bain.
"For this class, there aren't sections for more advanced and less advanced students. In subsequent years we try to put students with actual interest in plants into one class and have the other for those of you that are just here because they make you." Professor Bain grins in a way that seems a bit predatory. "Usually that class ends up being mostly Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, with the odd Slytherin looking to get a leg up with potions and the rare Gryffindor eyeing a career in the Ministry tackling dangerous plants." She smirks. "The rest of you will never quite grasp the majesty of the botanical world and will scrape by with Acceptables on your OWLs." She gestures for Sprout to come forward. "We have a randomly generated list of who will be in what class. I will post it here on the greenhouse wall and you can see where you need to go. Group A will be in Greenhouse 3, Group B in Greenhouse 5." Sprout proceeds to tack several copies of the list around the greenhouse. The professor continues as her assistant works. "I will be teaching class every other time. Pomona will teach the other section."
Harry stays put as the other children rush to the sheets. He doesn't particularly feel like getting trampled and he's pretty confident that Jeff will tell him what group he is in.
Jeff makes his way back to Harry and confirms that assumption. "We're in B, Harry." Jeff whispers.
With that the class breaks into two. Group B has to walk to the other greenhouse, which ends up being the most exciting part of the entire day. Harry is glad he is not supposed to speak or even really be mentally present as his and the Dark Lord's brain fuzzes out after the twelfth kind of fertilizer they will be using gets described.
After suffering through Herbology it is time for lunch and feeding their Puffskeins. Since taking care of the fuzzy balls takes only a few minutes, the group gets to enjoy a leisurely lunch period. Jeff looks rather apprehensive when a couple of first years come in somewhat singed. "Hey, what do you guys have to take care of?" Jeff asks a Slytherin girl as she walks by.
"Salamander." Is her reply as she sinks down onto the bench nearby. "We were trying to get it to eat peppers so that we could keep it outside the flames for a bit."
Jeff looks at her in horror. "But why?"
The girl turns to him with a sneer. "Because all the rest of my group is Ravenclaw, except for the one Gryffindor. And that certainly didn't help matters!" She grabs the jar of pumpkin juice roughly, pours a big glass and chugs it down.
Jeff makes sympathetic noises, looking grateful that his group is mostly more sensible Slytherins.
The next class is Runes. Harry is somewhat excited for this class. He only knows a very smattering of Runes from when he studied them in relation to rituals for dealing with the Horucruxes.
The professor is the other mystery woman that Harry saw at the staff table. She waits for all the students to seat themselves in the large room before she starts to talk. "I am Professor Eleanor Hengle. I will be teaching you Runes. Since this semester you have Healing and Blood Magic on Fridays, which I will also be teaching, I will be focusing on those runes that will apply to those spells." She pauses, seemingly lost in thought. "As such!" She yells suddenly, startling the students. "I expect you to have done your homework from this class before I have you on Friday. Anyone who slacks off shall be quite apparent." She sighs then stands and walks around the front of her desk. "Additionally, I do not have helpers for this class as many professors do for your other classes. For Healing I shall be bringing in outside specialists at different times, Healers and Blood mages, naturally. I believe some of your parents will be in this year." She notes idly, then stares abruptly at a Hufflepuff who squeaks. She waves her hand loftily. "No matter. Runes are quite straightforward." She walks to the board and regards it before pulling out her wand and waving for writing to appear on it. She stands there staring at the board for long enough that Harry and several of his classmates wonder if she has forgotten where she is.
Harry starts to doodle the things on the board on the parchment in front of him. The one symbol looks like two people, one big and one little, holding hands. That is, if you look at it with your eyes squinted and at a bit of an angle. It could also be an octopus.
"Exactly right!" Professor Hengle yells suddenly, causing most people in the room to jump. "Ten points to Slytherin. Why aren't you all copying the board?"
Harry gets a lot of odd looks and a couple glares. He ignores them and continues his rendition of a parent and child octopus on his parchment.
"The first symbol is for learning. It depicts a teacher and student, which, in older times, was a parent and child. There is much debate as to whether this particular picture was designed by humans or centaurs." She pauses again. "Well, really the centaurs don't claim it particularly, but I've never seen a human with six limbs, have you?" She asks, suddenly turning to a young Ravenclaw.
"Actually, ma'am, with the…"
"No matter." Professor Hengle interrupts. "It is the rune nonetheless. I expect you to have it memorized by tomorrow and have written six inches on at least four different rituals it is used in and why." She nods to herself.
A Hufflepuff gamely raises his hand.
"Yes?" The professor asks, turning slowly to look at the child.
"Er… maybe you could explain how to use runes in a ritual?" He asks. Next to him three other 'Puffs pat him on the back and grin. Apparently they had put him up to it.
"I suppose that might be helpful. Please turn to page five of your course books."
At the end of the two hours, Harry's brain hurts, both from the subject matter and from the abstracted method of teaching. The runes are rather complex and the amount of different combinations is staggering. The professor had also gone over the basics of Arithmancy in order to demonstrate the positioning of runes in space, much less against each other. For once his other soul is of no help. Voldemort used many runes in the creation of the Horucruxes, but apparently only at their very basic level. At the end of class the professor had demonstrated the power of runes arranged properly by drawing a sequence of them in chalk without her wand and causing the room to become freezing cold. Then by merely erasing one line and adding another the room was sweltering hot. Then by drawing an arrow she made it rain. Harry shakes his head and hopes that the next class, Charms, is a happy medium between the boredom of Herbology and the complete bafflement that is Runes.
The Charms classroom is the same one from Harry's time, and once again the entire year is cramped into space better suited for half their number.
"Oh, good. You are all here." Flitwick's voice comes from behind a mound of books. "Ah, here we are." He says as he comes into view climbing onto a precarious stack. "We will be dividing you into two groups based on skill level, which I'm sure you are all quite used to by now. But before I do that I would like to go over the 'Household Charms' assignments that I'm sure you all have been puzzling over in your syllabus. On a rotating schedule you will all be helping out the House Elves cleaning up from dinner. First years have Thursday, second is Friday, third Monday, fourth Tuesday, and sixth on Wednesday. Fifth and seventh years are excused due to the tests they must perform, as are the House or School champions in the tournaments."
"We have to work with House Elves? What nonsense is this?" One of the Slytherin boys bursts out, unsurprisingly. "We're paying you not the other way around!"
Flitwick smiles mischievously. "Ah, but when else are you going to get such practice at your household Charms?" Harry sees his point, but it is somewhat shocking that they are putting the students to work like this. "We discovered that a distressing few of Hogwarts graduates know how to maintain their own households. It really is shameful! Can't clean their dishes magically, can't pack and unpack with a wave of the wand… can't even fix the leak in the roof!" Flitwick shakes his head sadly. "But with this new program, you will learn all of that over the years. Now. You each will have to do this extra work about once a semester, so you can stop whining about it. There will be groups of four. Ms. Evans has the schedule." Harry stops listening to the short man at the sight of his mother. She looks like she is barely able to hold back a smile herself at the distressed faces of all of the children. Harry's heart fills seeing her so happy.
"Charms is a much more delicate art than curses, hexes and creature containment." Flitwick muses. "As such, we cannot simply ask you to perform them without first giving some instruction. Thus, for the first hour we will be teaching you the wizard's most useful art- levitation!" /:Only a supremely practical art when one is compensating for something.:/ Voldemort comments drolly, almost startling a snort from Harry before he recovers himself and smacks the basilisk.
"So let's split up into two groups, one with me and one with Ms. Evans." Flitwick says, hopping down from his stack of books.
Harry rushes over to his mother's side and tries to look nonchalant while still making sure he ends up in her group. Jeff comes pushing through the crowd a few moments later, looking put out.
"Oh hello, Jeff, Harry." Lily says, smiling down at the two of them. "Alright, let's move to our practice room." She addresses the significantly male group surrounding her.
They end up in a large room without much in it that Harry recognizes as being a storage room in his time. Lily passes out feathers to everyone and begins to describe how to cast Wingardium Leviosa. Harry, being able to cast this spell in his sleep (the unmentionable incident with the backpack) as well as silently and sometimes wandlessly… Harry feels completely justified in ignoring what Lily is actually saying in order to study his young mother-to-be. She looks like she did in many of the pictures he has seen, but the pictures are a poor comparison to her in actuality. They cannot capture her animated voice or her magical aura.
Harry starts when Jeff nudges him and whispers in his ear, "levitate the feather, Harry." Harry pays brief attention to the feather, croaking out the incantation and sending it soaring up to the ceiling. His mother is busy helping out each of the students with hand motions, wrist flicks, spell intent and pronunciation. By the end of the first forty-five minutes, everyone can more or less levitate their feather.
"Alright- now comes the fun part!" Lily says excitedly, pulling out a fuzzy ball from her robes. "Now we are going to levitate this ball around the room, each person taking a turn as it goes around. You can help the person next to you- in fact you should a little bit. Don't take over their turn though! Once we get it all the way around the room once we'll go back into the classroom and you will get assigned to one of the two classes." With that she casts the spell and sends the poofy ball around the ring.
Harry is intrigued. This is such an interesting and fun way to practice the spell. It's really quite brilliant. It takes about fifteen goes around the circle before they get a perfect run. Even for people that have mastered the basic levitation, moving the ball in a direction other than simply up is an interesting challenge.
Back in the classroom there are only about a third of the students that remained with Flitwick still present. "Form a line and wait for Flitwick or me to test you." Lily says, leaving her group to go stand by the diminutive professor.
The challenge seems to be to tossing the same fluffy ball between the student and the professor. Every student continues with the exercise until they lose control and drop it. Harry goes to the back of the line, trying to see how many volleys the students seem to be managing. A few aren't successful even with one volley, but most seem to be averaging one to three volleys before the ball flops to the ground. One student manages to keep the ball in the air for a total of six.
Finally it is Harry's turn. He has no worries about his levitation skills or even his ability to get the ball to go back toward the professor, but Charms were never his strongest class, so he concentrates as Flitwick sends the ball his way. Harry returns it smartly and Flitwick sends it immediately back. The flying ball is yellow and the somewhat erratic movement as it switches between their control sends Harry into a predatory hypnotic trance much like when he was playing Quidditch all those many years ago.
Harry is just beginning to feel a budding sense of satisfaction when his control slips and the ball lands on the floor. Harry glares at it as though it has betrayed him. /:I thought we agreed not to show off?:/ Voldemort asks. Harry immediately recognizes the other's mental push as that which distracted him in the middle of the game.
"Well young man! I have never had such a satisfying go with anyone. Thank you very much for the pleasure." Flitwick smiles.
Harry wonders just how many volleys he has completed.
"Well, you better be off or you will miss dinner!" Flitwick says cheerfully, shooing Harry out the door.
Jeff starts awake from where he had been napping at one of the desks and trots out after Harry. "Well, that was pretty impressive. I mean, I fell asleep after the first couple dozen, but I'm sure it kept on being brilliant." Jeff says, settling into an easy walk at Harry's side. "You both kept getting faster and faster, trying to trip each other up by sending it at odd angles… you know, it's really too bad it isn't a regular sport." Jeff muses. Harry's unease is increasing by the minute.
/:Still annoyed I interrupted you?:/ Voldemort hisses.
/I am annoyed at you, but I guess I can't be about that, particularly./ Harry concedes grudgingly.
oOoOoOo
After dinner all the students relax in the common room. Harry observes them from a corner. He feels a vague sort of satisfaction perching on a stone ledge almost out of sight. Though he knows it is childish, it gives him a pleasantly gargoyle-like feeling. It is difficult to have adult thoughts in a child's body that has a child's brain and a child's instincts.
He watches Jeff socializing with some of the other first years and is happy for him. Even if Harry were still near comatose, the boy deserves to have his own childhood as well. Harry wonders what life he had known prior to ending up in Riddle's orphanage. Harry smiles that terms like "Riddle's orphanage" roll so easily about in his brain after not quite a week in this new dimension.
With a sigh Harry hops down from his perch and slips out of the common room. He wanders the halls, not particularly worried about being caught, even though it is after curfew. If someone does catch him, they probably deserve the chance to give Harry a punishment for it.
After a while Harry's feet take him to the Gryffindor tower. He hides around the corner from the Fat Lady and looks at the corridor that he knows so well. In another lifetime this had been his first real home. With a sigh Harry turns to go back to the dungeons, suddenly tired. As he does, a sound of laughter comes faintly from down a hallway. Harry almost ignores it, but curiosity wins out.
He creeps closer to the sound, having to backtrack when he misses a small corridor. At the end is a landscape that is obviously being used as a door. The sounds from behind are indistinct and Harry wonders if he can break the ward and slip in without being noticed before realizing what he had just been thinking and stopping in shock. He turns instinctively toward the basilisk, but the creature somehow imparts a gesture of hands raised in innocence, a feat Harry would probably have been more impressed by if he was less distracted. Why had he wanted to break into someone's room? Just for fun?
The sounds get louder and suddenly the portrait swings open. Harry backpedals wildly before bumping into the corridor wall.
"Well, I really do need to be getting back, Lily. I'm not on duty tonight, but I am tomorrow… Harry?" Severus looks down at Harry in confusion. "How in the world did you get out of bed and all the way up here?"
"Harry?" Lily's voice comes from behind Severus. She wraps her arms around the tall wizard's waist and peeks over his shoulder. "Why, so it is. Nice to see you, Harry. You did a great job in class today."
Harry's mind blanks out in pure shock. Of course he knew that Snape and his mum had been close- friends even. But that intimate contact looked like they might be a bit more than just friends.
The walk back to the dorm is a bit of a haze. How Harry ends up tucked into his bed is an almost complete mystery to him. "I have to stop this. I have to get my mum and dad together." He says with eyes unfocused.
/:Are you insane?:/ Voldemort asks, rearing up in Harry's head as if to strike.
"What?" Harry protests, focusing within. "What's wrong with wanting your parents together? With wanting to be born?"
/:That is exactly what is wrong it.:/ Voldemort says in annoyance. /:Are you really this dense? I'm embarrassed to have been defeated by you.:/ At Harry's complete lack or understanding, the basilisk thrashes in irritation and elaborates. /:When 'I' am near Tom Riddle, what happens? And what do you think would happen if 'Harry Potter' is born into this world with you already in it?:/
"What are you saying?' Harry asks in shock.
/:I'm saying that you have to do everything in you power to make sure Severus and that Mudblood marry and have children together.:/
"WHAT!?!?!?!?"
A/N So- did I get recc'ed somewhere or something? It's been cool and kind of scary how many author alert notifications my e-mail has been flooded with. There have been so many that my account actually started filtering them as spam! Yay . I did notice, however, that there weren't many reviews… (lol, aren't I subtle?)
But seriously- all the attention has been awesome. Usually I just write for myself, but seeing how much people seem to like the story really makes me focus on writing this one versus any of the (many) other stories I've been working on (so I have short attention span…) It does take something to trump spaceships and bloodsucking aliens, though. I mean, I think this story is great, obviously, otherwise I wouldn't want to keep writing it… but I just assume that's because I'm delusional or whatever.
Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading and enjoying! I'd give you hugs, or cookies or something, but you know- the whole cyber-space thing.
Oh! And if anyone has a suggestion for a better summary I'm all ears. I suck at them, I know. Something ineffable prevents me from writing them properly (otherwise, one would hope I would do better).