The Second Chance
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of J. K. Rowling and Kurinoone's universe. This story is written with permission from Kurinoone, and is written based on Kurinoone's fabulous, amazing, beyond awesome story- "The Darkness Within" (which was inspired by by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful story- "The Shattered Prophesy").
Chapter 10: Hidden Secrets and Lies
Transfiguration was just as tough as usual.
Professor McGonagall decided it was high time for them to skip straight to NEWT level, instead of dwelling fruitlessly on the basics- which hardly contributed to improving their Transfiguration skills. Something in which Hermione approved greatly. Ron, however, scowled through the entire lesson, his wand twitching irritably as he struggled with Life Transfiguration.
Hermione's saucer was varying from a hamster to a rabbit, but all of them were mute. Kit, on the other hand, was fighting from letting a smug expression blossom over his features. Instead, he decided to have Ron's face as a model. Copying the redhead, the transfer student scrunched up his face, frowned fiercely and knitted his eyebrows together as he stared resolutely at his saucer. However, he made no attempt to transfigure the saucer, just in case he let slip his true powers...
"Mason," Professor McGonagall strode over to Kit's desk, mirroring the frown on Kit and Ron's face.
"Yes, Professor?" Kit asked mildly, his facial polite mask slipping back in place.
"Why aren't you at least trying the spell?" she asked, her tone suggesting her annoyance. Kit mentally groaned.
There went his plan. Well, there was always a second strategy... improvisation.
"I'm trying to picture the vision... and,... um, get the right picture, and... the correct feeling, so I can get it on first try," he tried stuttering his excuse about, hoping that he had failed to live up to the 'cool and dangerous' impression he had made on the Hogwarts students; according to Ron Weasley. He definitely did not want attention drawn to himself, least of all the girls' swooning and giggling. Secretly, Harry was beginning to regret using Tom Riddle Jr's features as his glamour model. The young Dark Lord's features were a bit too handsome to blend into Hogwarts as a spy.
Not that he'd ever tell his father that. Goodness knows how huge Voldemort's ego already was.
Professor McGonagall's steely voice broke through his train of thoughts.
"It is alright to fail on your first try- I don't expect my students to succeed on every first attempt, either. Now, why don't you give it a go?" her tone was kind, but it brooked no argument.
"...N-no, I'm not sure if it's a good idea Professor," Kit gushed, hoping she wouldn't detect a hint of laughter, "I'll practise during my free time, and I'll get it right by the next lesson, don't worry."
Professor McGonagall frowned. "May I ask what is the matter?"
Kit hesitated a bit before hanging his head lower. "I-I'm a transfer student, Professor," he said, not making eye contact. "Everyone, including all the Hogwarts staff and students- expect the best from me. I want to prove that I'm actually good enough to enter Hogwarts- and worthy enough to be in Gryffindor House. I-... pardon me if I only want to let you see my best, ma'am."
Did he do the stuttering convincingly enough? Or did he just sound as though he were suffering from some kind of tongue disease?
The Transfiguration Professor's gaze rested on him for a moment, before she sighed and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. He didn't need to pretend shying away from her touch. Steeling himself to prevent flinching away from her, Kit looked up wearily.
"I'm sorry, Professor," he said in a meek, soft voice, his eyes downcast.
"Nonsense!" said Professor McGonagall firmly. "You have proven yourself to be an exceptional student; indeed I have heard many stories about your outstanding performance in Defense class yesterday, and Gryffindor House is proud to have you as a member. However, there is the issue of your confidence which you need to settle. And you will overcome your... internal demons, right now, in front of everyone. Do not give me the excuse of fearing what others may think of you. Perform the spell now."
Issue of his confidence? Right. And here his father always told him he had too much self- esteem for his own good.
Pretending to hesitate again, Kit picked up his wand slowly, praying for droplets of convincing perspiration to form on his forehead. Then under his breath, he whispered a non- existent, modified incantation- so softly he was the only one that heard.
Crack!
The saucer became bits of scattered fur.
Merlin, that was really pathetic.
Kit looked up. Would it be appropriate to burst into tears now? A few anguished tears, perhaps?
No! Of course not. He wanted his image to be one who was weak at magic, not a crybaby. How could he even consider that option!
Kit took a deep breath as though to calm himself, allowing the expressionless mask to mould over his features. "I apologise, Professor," he said in his normal casual tone, but he was careful to add a hint of tremor behind it. "I... will try again."
Professor McGonagall nodded. "You do that," she told him. "Remember, confidence is essential in succeeding, no matter what goal you have in mind, Mason."
Kit inhaled and nodded imperceptibly. Ron gave him a sympathetic look, and Kit grimaced in return. His eyes shot over to the bushy haired Gryffindor, who was eyeing him uncertainly. As their gazes met, she offered him a small smile.
Did that mean she bought it? Or was she suspecting him; testing his every move?
Kit looked calculatingly at the Muggleborn witch, before returning an acknowledging nod of his own and turning away. But he felt Hermione's gaze boring holes in his back.
If Hermione Granger was trying to figure him out, he'd give her a false image to lead her to the wrong track. He did have the Heir of Slytherin as a father, and had grown up with the sly wizard since childhood. Granger may be smart; Kit could tell she was pretending to buy it through her small smiles and watchful gazes... but she'd never end up in Slytherin.
Smirking to himself, Kit pretended to concentrate on the furry pieces of saucer before him.
Let the games begin.
"So, Kit... today is officially the second day you've been having lessons at Hogwarts," Ron said as they made their way together to History of Magic after lunch. "What do you think about them?"
Kit's face hardened, and he pretended to stiffen visibly. He had been acting sick and zombie- like throughout their last few lessons, nearly resulting in a low sting from the Venomous Tentacula during Herbology. Kit thought it'd be ideal to let his 'friends' think the Professor's words during Transfiguration was a great blow to his confidence, and he was wallowing in uncertainity and had extremely low self- esteem. And all through that time, he could tell Hermione had her suspicious gaze on him. Hopefully, this 'weakness' he displayed would put the giggling girls off him too.
"I mean, um, except Transfiguration," the redhead immediately backtracked.
Kit mentally frowned.
Would someone care to enlighten him, what was the appropriate expression now?
It was more difficult for him, the Dark Prince to play a friend's role anyway, since he had no experience whatsoever. After all, he had had a very secluded childhood... and life, come to think of it. Not that he was complaining. If all the potential 'friends' he could get were from (quoting Snape) the legendary bunch of dunderheads, he'd rather suffer loneliness.
"I'm sorry," said Ron again, "I didn't think."
Kit allowed his features to soften somewhat, careful to gaze at Ron as he did so. "It's okay," he said hurriedly. "It's not your fault at all. If anything, I'm apalled by myself. Merlin, I was such a weak idiot," he pronounced the last two words contempteously. "Babbling like that, failing to cast a simple spell..."
He stared at the floor moodily, as Ron sighed in regret. Kit's insides soared with triumph.
The redhead was easier to fool.
"It wasn't a simple spell, as you put it," said Hermione, cutting across their conversation. "I struggled through it many times before I succeeded. You just need to be brave enough. To try," she added. "Don't let failure discourage you."
"I'm not discouraged," said Kit at once, pretending to fume at the thought.
"Yes you are," said Hermione resolutely. Kit guessed that she was one who would stand for what she believed in until the very end, despite the circumstances. Pretending to deny could lead her on his twisted track.
"No I am not," he shot back testily. "Professor McGonagall... she got me wrong. What's wrong with wanting only to display your best? If others see me when I'm at my worst, they'd think I was weak," He made his words sound hollow, unsure.
He expected Hermione to pounce on his uncertainity, and for a moment she looked as though she actually would, but she let it slip by, opting instead to change the topic abruptly. "We're going to be late for Professor Binns' class," she said in a neutral tone. "We'd better hurry."
Kit nodded and followed the redhead and bushy haired Gryffindor into the classroom. Granger was doubtless still analyzing his actions; she would observe him longer before drawing a conclusion... although Kit had obligingly laid down an answer for her. She was still searching for secondary confirmation; proof. His frequent change in moods; letting down his masks, then bringing them up again- was arousing slight suspicion from the bright witch. In other words, she wasn't going to trust him until she discovered his true character.
Smart girl.
Dinner approached quickly.
Although he had only been at Hogwarts for three days, Kit felt as though he had coped with this new environment pretty well; it was like the huge castle seemed familiar to him. Ron had taken him on a small tour around the school only once, but Kit managed to remember every single route and path to get to the required destinations. It probably was due to the fact that he had been here last year, under the Imperius Curse.
He may not have any memories regarding what he had done, but his body seemed to remember the way around... which was odd. Technically, if someone performed tight- rope walking under Imperio, said person would probably fall to death seconds after he attempted the move without the influence of the Unforgivable Curse.
As he pondered over the question, Kit felt a familiar rush of blinding fury towards Albus Dumbledore- and it definitely did not help by the fact that the old, wizened Muggle- loving man was currently seated mere metres away, at the staff's table. Kit's grip tightened visibly on his wand, and it took all of his Slytherin willpower and ambition to overcome his Gryffindor brawn.
Now was definitely not the time for revenge. He'd ruin his chance and Voldemort's plans in the process, not to mention earn himself a place in Azkaban for no reason at all.
Not that he'd ever end up in that jail; Kit was confident he would be able to escape before the dismal Ministry managed to apprehend him. But still, no point in acting rashly. He would be an utter fool to do so...
"Kit? Kit, are you alright?"
Weasley, again. Kit fought his anger, praying for his expressionless mask to slip back in place. "Fine," he replied shortly.
It would have to suffice. At that blind moment of anger, Kit didn't think he could draw out masks or polite form of speeches around the Gryffindor 'friends'. He's sooner explode before he got around to-
Ron took an unconscious step backwards, before peering closer at Kit. Feeling slightly alarmed that he'd let his true emotions show, Kit immediately snapped open his eyes.
"What?" he said sharply, a tad self- consciously so.
Ron plastered a smile on his face, but Kit could tell it was slightly forced. "I- for a moment, I thought under the trick of light- your eyes..."
Kit had a very bad feeling about this. His heart was hammering slightly louder than usual in his ribcage. "What about my eyes?" he tried sounding surprised, raising his eyebrows to enhance the convincing expression.
"They- well, darkened a bit. Oh never mind, just my imagination," Ron now seemed to be firm in his belief. He gestured for Kit to take the seat on his right, and Kit did so obligingly, noting with some relief and wariness that Granger had been absorbed in her book, and had missed the entire conversation between him and the redhead.
"You must be really hungry, huh?" Ron continued, starting to heap steak on his plate. "I'm ravenous. Yesterday it was Defense, today it's Herbology. All this dodging and ducking business is really tiring."
Ron looked at Kit, as though expecting a reaction. Feeling slightly startled, Kit didn't know what else to do except agree and offer a synonym. "Yes, totally energy consuming," he went along, feeling both proud and apalled at his comeback.
The redhead grinned. "I was going to ask you if you wanted the lamb chop actually,- I can pass it over to you if you like. It's really good- one of my favorites among Hogwarts' dishes."
Thinking it'd be impolite and unfriendly to refuse, Kit accepted the huge eight chunks of lamb with as much grace as he could master. Ron then added generous amounts of mashed potatoes and gravy to Kit's plate, plus two German sausages, before telling him in a nonchalant way- as though the stack of food before him was a completely reasonable in amount, not a huge horrifying and repulsing brown mountain- "There you go. Eat up, it's really good!"
Kit stared at his dinner plate, feeling his appetite vanishing to the bottom of his stomach. He'd rather drink ten bottles of Nutritious Potions than eat the entire... mountain before him. The pile of food now resembled an ugly mound of something, quite possibly a monster from the Muggle world's cartoon graphics.
"Hey Ron."
Kit stared with a sinking feeling as the youngest Potter bounded over and sat himself across the redhead. But still, Potter was imperative in his plans... although tolerating his presence was nothing short of excruciating. Damien's resemblence to James Potter might be less pronounced than his, but that didn't change the fact that watching Potter Junior's features made acid bubble in his stomach.
Damien eyed the pile of food before Kit with amusement. "Your friend is eating quite a lot today," he remarked to his redheaded friend. "Is he taking after you, now? Or maybe you are taking after your mum- you're trying to fatten Mason up."
Kit felt this speech nothing short of excruciatingly annoying. Before he managed to retort, however, Damien's gaze and met his irritable ones. "It's okay really," began Damien in a joyful tone. "Fattening up is actually a good idea for you."
The Dark Prince, or what he had to remind himself- the harmless new transfer student had to bite his tongue to prevent violent curses from leaving his mouth. It wasn't like Potter was provoking him, Potter was merely joking, he couldn't- wouldn't- be angry, or his apparent dislike for Potter would be discovered, his cover may threaten to fall apart- he had to keep a cool head.
"No it is not."
Despite what he told himself, Kit felt an irresistible urge to retort back with a frosty tone. But he had successfully managed a comeback that didn't sound offensive or display any signs of anger... he hadn't drawn suspicion.
Though he still hated himself for coming up with such a lousy retort.
"Yes it is, going on diet is deteriorates your health conditions," Potter just had to insist, an infrutiating smile in place. Oh, how he hated Potters... "Truthfully, you're a bit on the scrawny side. I suppose, as the Patils say, you're muscular enough, but a bit too tall, which unbalances the body. You may find it easier to trip over than the average teenager. The wind outside is pretty strong too, you really don't want to be blown off your feet."
Kit dropped his fork and closed his eyes, not trusting his eyes to not turn a rapid black. He casted another glamour non- verbally, hoping that it would suffice... before Potter's annoying smile swam into vision, not unlike the vicious, half- mischievious smile that lit up the corners of James Potter's mouth, before he raised the whip, to bring down on his son's back again-
"But not that the Patils and the other girls would mind, though," Damien continued, as though blissfully unaware of the others' anger. "If you were really blown off your feet, they'd come running to catch you and sweep you into their arms,- unless they can't support your weight, no offense meant- like the Muggle cartoon Disney princess stories. Oh sorry, it was supposed to be the other way round- the prince isn't supposed to blown off his feet. Never mind, we'll just have a different Wizarding World version-"
"Are you trying to annoy me on purpose?" snapped Kit, trying not to let more violent/vulgar words leave his mouth. He'd still like an answer from Potter, though his mind was already supplying him with one- obviously.
"No," Damien said at once.
Liar.
"I was merely trying to have our first friendly conversation," the youngest Potter continued.
Kit felt the urge to smirk. "What, don't tell me you're still sour over getting caught talking to your snowy?"
Damien scowled. Triumph soared in Kit- at least he wasn't the only irritated one now.
"Well, what's so annoying about the Patils sighing sentimentally all about you?" Damien went on, determined to annoy the elder Gryffindor. "I was merely stating the facts, with some additional imagination..."
"Nothing, besides your voice?" Kit remarked snidely.
"Well, I prefer mine over yours," Damien retorted. "The sound of your voice grates on my nerves."
This part wasn't exactly true. But the youngest Potter pretended it was.
"Can you believe it, Potter? I actually feel the same way about you," Kit sneered.
"Oh yeah?" Damien didn't show any sign of backing down.
"Why don't we come to a mutual agreement," said Kit, smiling humorlessly. "From this day onwards-"
"That would be pretty sudden," Damien said, looking at Kit in bewilderment. "Honestly."
Kit frowned. "Do you have any idea about what I was going to say, before you rudely interrupted?"
"Well, you said 'mutual agreement'," said Damien, as though explaining the obvious. "I assume you were going to say something along the lines of 'let's start over' or be friends or something like that."
Kit nearly smacked his forehead in demonstration of his frustration. "I was going to say' from this day onwards, you won't bother me and I won't irritate you," he said through gritted teeth.
"Oh," said Damien.
"Forget it, I take that back," Kit said abruptly, forcing himself to remember his mission. He needed Damien Potter to answer his questions!
"I know what you're going to say now," Damien interrupted again. "You're going to state 'From this day onwards, you won't take the slightest notice of me, and I will do the same- a very beneficial agreement on your behalf, I suppose. But no, for the mere sake of irritating you, I disagree."
Kit didn't know whether to be extremely annoyed at the statement or be relieved that his mission was safe, for the moment. Damien took Kit's silence as an opportunity to plunge on.
"Have I ever mentioned that annoying others is a favorite pastime of mine? It's my natural gift. A very useful trait in life, sometimes," Damien continued, putting on a flashy smile to irritate the elder Gryffindor.
"I don't doubt it," muttered Kit darkly, shoving away his dinner.
Ron stared at the two, speechless; Kit however, got to his feet abruptly.
"See you around then," he said to Ron, before turning to leave.
"I'll see you around too!" said Damien cheerfully, doubtless to prod the transfer student further.
"I hope not," Kit muttered, rolling his eyes before walking out of the Hall, ignoring the chatters behind him, and trying not to imagine Potter's smug expression... a pretty difficult feat.
Once safely in his dormitory, Harry flopped onto his four poster bed, his mind working furiously. Irritation was definitely a worse emotion to experience than anger. The thing about annoyance was that it crept right under your skin, seeped into your every pore and made you itch to do something, anything, however small, to bring negative effects onto the person who caused it. Such as now. All Harry could think of doing was to make Damien Potter's infrutiating smiles and irritating voice come to a frosty halt!
Now that sounded childish. He needed Potter's trust; that was the only way he would be finding his answers.
The people who seriously deserved revenge would be dealt with later- such as Albus Dumbledore and James Potter. Merlin, how he wanted to gauge the Muggle- loving fool's twinkling eyes so that he could read, be it minds or books, no more! Not to mention his biological, filthy ancestry- Potter- feigning cares and smiles in society, the Wizarding World's top Auror, a hero! But none knew what that cruel man did behind his door, to his own son-
Harry forced himself to clear his mind, subconsciously applying Occlumency barriers. Wallowing in hatred would bring him nowhere his goals. He needed to plot, strategize. Think calmly like a Slytherin-
If only he were placed in Slytherin! He was already marked by the Heir of Salazar himself, for goodness' sake! But that stupid, idiotic, ageing Sorting Hat just decided to make up its own twisted mind and dump him with the nightmarish pride of lions. Harry had recently decided that 'ageing' was a cutting jibe, as Voldemort always reacted badly to that adjective if applied to him.
He hadn't even expected this outrageous outcome- it practically threw his first step in planning into wrong light. The Gryffindors had reacted weirdly- some of them, at any rate- that someone who had associated with Slytherins amiably on the Hogwarts Express would be Sorted into the completely opposite House.
Bloody Sorting Hat! If his father ever found out, Voldemort'd have a field day with this.
- and there went his calm thinking. Rationalize! What was his main priority?
The wards. Right. He had been allowed two weeks' time to accomplish his mission before Voldemort promised to storm into Hogwarts and snatch his son back. Harry had wisely pointed out that the main reason he was sent to Hogwarts was to break down the wards, so even if Voldemort did turn up, all he could do would be brandish his stick, scream at his Death- Eaters and demand entry outside the barriers. His father, however, had promised to break him out of the school by any means- and he had an oddly familiar glint in his eye as he said that, making Harry unsure whether to doubt Voldemort's words or not.
The thought of his father somehow managed to calm Harry a bit. Once he got past the irritating quality of his father's protectivenes and paranoia, Harry thought he could get used to it.
Back to work.
So. The combination of blood and magic. Harry would have expected no less from himself. According to the detailed descriptions and plans he found in his room, the Hogwarts barrier would have four chosen Secret Keepers to guard its magic and secrecy.
The first would, most probably, be Albus Dumbledore- the Head of the Order itself. The second Secret Keeper, again, would most probably be Minerva McGonagall- Order member and Deputy at Hogwarts.
The third was unknown. Presumably one of the Hogwarts staff members. And the fourth... someone he'd never yet thought to suspect.
Damien Potter.
Although there was no confirmation in his Imperiused self's letter to the youngest Potter whether Damien had actually accepted Dumbledore's offer, Harry was pretty certain that he was right. Damien Potter was a Gryffindor, after all.
'So are you' an unhelpful voice at the back of his head added. Harry ignored it completely. He had originally planned to nip down to the One- Eyed- Witch's portrait passageway to test the barrier's strength that night. He wanted to know if he could break through it. According to the detailed theory he obtained from the notes he found on his table back at Riddle Manor, if the intruder indeed had supernatural, sufficient magic to break through the wards, he would most probably come through unharmed.
And in Harry's mind, he didn't doubt his supernatural magic. Especially not after he had turned seventeen.
As he got up to prepare for his night venture, Harry froze as he heard voices echoing up from the Common Room. Dinner wasn't finished in ten minutes yet. Who else had decided to retire for the night early?
Then Weasley boy and Potter's voices reached the staircase to the boys' dormitory. Harry swiftly closed the drapes around his bed and Disillusioned himself. His pillows and blanket were arranged as if someone was lying under the covers, too.
"...was certain I was holding it before falling asleep last night," Potter was saying.
"Do you mean to tell me Harry wrote you a letter from Riddle Manor before he died that night?" Weasley's voice was incredulous.
"I told you, Hedwig delivered the letter to me," Damien sounded rather impatient. "I was alone at Potter Manor then. I had trained her to well... fly at Harry the moment he turned seventeen. It was supposed to be his birthday present." A slight pause.
Harry stared at the two approaching figures, dumbstruck. Hedwig. Potter's snowy owl. Harry flashed back to the time he found three unexplained white feathers tucked neatly under his ninja blades. Could it possibly be-?
"But what did the letter say?" Ron was persistent.
There was another pause, before Potter replied. "Nothing much," he said, "Just him telling me to stay safe, and he was sorry, and all that." Potter's voice sounded unnaturally strained, unlike the joking tone he had heard back at dinner.
Weasley fell silent, before saying softly, "I'm sorry too. Harry was a good friend... once you get past the mental bit."
Potter laughed a bit at that.
Harry's mind was reeling. Friend? Were the two lying, or was his Imperiused self actually friends with Ron Weasley, a good brother to Damien Potter? But why would the two lie about it, when there was clearly no one- except his unnoticed self- that was listening in to their conversation? He felt sick.
More silence followed after that, before he heard someone rummaging around a trunk, possibly. Harry sneaked out quietly behind the drapes and watched as Damien Potter broke into a smile as he retrieved something. The singed parchment.
"I found it!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "It was just folded neatly in the Marauders' Map- I forgot to check. It must've slipped in there."
Harry stared at the old piece of blank parchment which Damien Potter referred to as the 'Map'. Was that actually a magical Map in disguise? He'd thought it was only a piece of parchment when he slid the singed parchment back into Potter's bag. Could it possibly be the Map of Hogwarts? That would save Harry a lot of trouble. Not to mention if it was magical...
Harry eyed the piece of parchment as Damien kept it back safely into his bag.
He'd just need to steal it to see for himself.
A/N: Thanks for reviewing the last chapter! Here's my promised update. It's not as long as the others, though... only 5,000 words plus plus. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it, and please drop me a thought!
Take care,
Epsilon Scorpii