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Stars
Chapter 11: The Herdsman
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Summary: What if Harry wasn't taken in by Petunia? What if, instead, he was taken in by another wizard who moved into number four after Petunia forced her family to move to avoid taking in the freak? Neutral!Harry
Beta: Cauchy! Big thanks to her for being my beta! This means less confusing words and spelling errors and brains flying around.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own character. Some of Lockhart's speech is directly from the book.
A/N: Dumbledore bashing is quite popular, but considering how it is canon that he hired Lockhart simply to expose him as a fraud… that speaks for his character quite clearly, as the entire second year's DADA was wasted because of Lockhart's lack of teaching. Adding to that, he kept Snape as a teacher, despite Snape being verbally (insulting Harry all the time) and emotionally (he threatened to feed Neville's toad with Neville's botched potion and might have actually killed it, if Hermione hadn't helped Neville) abusive because, as JKR said, "Dumbledore believes in all kinds of lessons. Horrible teachers are one of them."
And as redstickbonbon pointed out, Dumbledore knew what he was putting Harry through (both at his home in #4 and at the end of DH), but he didn't bother stopping it.
All in all, I don't believe in senseless bashing, but Dumbledore's character isn't pure benevolence either. I dislike reading fics that play him as some kind of all powerful, all kind old man who's just misunderstood.
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Harry wasn't sure what to make of the lack of correspondence with Draco.
Granted, it was quite possible that Draco's parents had taken him out on holiday, or that Draco was too busy to write, but it was a little odd that he hadn't heard anything in two weeks. For an overly attached Draco to suddenly stop talking to him was stranger than Cygnus volunteering to go shopping for Harry's clothes.
For some strange, inexplicable reason, both were happening at the same time. Harry had literally broken three plates when Cygnus announced it that morning at breakfast. They had slid out of his hands and crashed onto the kitchen floor, whereupon Cygnus had simply waved a hand to repair them.
Cygnus hated shopping for clothes with a vengeance. Harry knew this from all the times that Cygnus had taken him shopping when he was younger. The white haired man would stand in front of the store, his arms crossed, looking very irritable as Harry went through the shirts and pants. He would glare at anyone who came within three feet of him and his hand would constantly twitch under his arm, as if he was barely restraining himself from hexing anyone who came near.
Harry couldn't really blame him, though it did make him nervous. Cygnus' hair stood out like a beacon and the stares he got would put anyone on edge. The question of "did you dye your hair?" was definitely a trigger point for Cygnus. Harry supposed he must have gotten it a lot back in Taiwan.
Cygnus wasn't the kind of person to tell someone to simply "piss off" but when that question was asked, all kinds of creative profanities, insults, and curses would fall out of his mouth.
Harry could still remember the disaster from his primary school. The teacher had invited Cygnus for a parent-teacher conference and Cygnus had showed up, already in somewhat of a bad mood as he had to stop in the middle of his work for the meeting, but ended up in an even worse mood, as the teacher had asked the forbidden question.
Harry wasn't positive, but he imagined that the conference had gone something like this:
"Your son, Harry, is very bright and intelligent young man." The teacher would say, looking at the papers of Harry's schoolwork.
"Tell me something I don't know." Cygnus would reply, silently fuming about the time lost in his work.
The teacher would pause and add, "However, he cannot be excluded from the rules. Coloring his hair is not allowed. I've noticed that he has several white strands of hair."
"He didn't color his hair," Cygnus would grit out, his hands turning white as he grabbed the table.
"Clearly, he did, because people are not born with naturally white hair," the teacher would say. "I can see where he gets it from though. How old were you when you dyed your hair?"
And that would set Cygnus off like a bombshell. Cygnus would have leapt to his feet, roaring about how "ignorantly daft" the teacher was and that his hair was "perfectly natural, thank you very much". Harry wouldn't have been surprised if Cygnus had actually punched his teacher.
Harry sighed happily as he read his textbook, marking up each page for reference. It would drive Cygnus crazy, if he saw it, but that was why Harry never did his wizarding homework in front of him. Cygnus would always mutter about "respect for books" and "sullying the text" which Harry found extremely distracting.
Harry hoped that Cygnus wasn't having too much trouble in buying his school supplies.
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Cygnus was sorely regretting volunteering to pick up Harry's new clothes and schoolbooks.
He had originally offered because Harry had mentioned that he had a lot of homework to finish. Despite loathing clothes shopping, he had agreed to it.
The books weren't as much of a problem. The bookstore was always quiet, always calm, with people shuffling about or skimming texts. Cygnus would browse the texts for hours, selecting only the books he was sure to read and go through each section to see what books were new.
The clothing store however, was... loud. It smelled of sweat, of clothes that had been tried on and discarded, of the stink of hundreds of people passing through. There were people chattering away, girls who complained about being too fat, boys whining about how they wanted to leave, women who complained about how much everything cost, and men who stood around sighing in hated this atmosphere.
That was why, when Cygnus found his very quiet and calm bookstore packed with hundreds of people, all screaming at the top of their lungs, Cygnus had recoiled in shock. He almost didn't want to go in, didn't want to be in the crowd of pushing, shoving, sweaty people. It reminded him all too real of another incident of pushing, shoving, and screaming people.
Cygnus was a man of his word, however. He refused to break his promise to Harry that he would pick up his books today. So he glanced at the parchment that had Harry's booklist written on it and slipped his way through the crowd, trying his best to push back the unsavory memories of rowdy crowds. He glanced at the vibrantly dressed blond haired man, giving him nothing but a simple frown. It appeared that the man was famous and was milking the attention for all it was worth.
"…me! Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award," the man was announcing. "Thank you to all my adoring fans that have come out today to see me."
Cygnus was seriously considering on setting his curly blond hair on fire. He could almost feel the man's ego slide off him in waves. Order of Merlin or not, this Lockhart guy was driving him up the wall with his insistent flirting. For the first time, Cygnus noticed that most of the crowd consisted of middle-aged witches.
Lockhart was giving some meaningless speech as he was signing books, the women hanging off every word. Cygnus pushed through the crowd, moving quickly towards the back of the bookstore, desperately trying to calm his racing heart. He hated the sensation of tumbling through a crowd, of arms and legs against him trying to shove him over or push him to the side.
When Cygnus had caught his breath, he browsed through the books, trying his best to ignore the screams of the crowd that was in the front of the bookstore. He selected the titles as fast as he could, collecting the required texts, including, disgustingly, seven of Gilderoy Lockhart's books. He made a mental note to warn Harry about the upcoming insanity that was about to infect his Hogwarts career.
What kind of teacher required seven books all written by the same person? Whoever was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts was a dunce. Wasn't it common sense to get different books by different authors so that they could get a broader view of the subject?
Cygnus pulled his hair out of its ponytail to retie it as the bookstore manager went through his purchases. He would stop by a restaurant to pick up food for dinner. He was going through the list of restaurants in his mind when an arm slung itself around Cygnus' shoulders. Cygnus' had to restrain himself from lashing out and hitting the owner of the arm in the face.
To Cygnus' disgust, and the crowd's excitement, the arm belonged to Gilderoy Lockhart, who flashed a brilliant smile. "Look at this young gentleman, purchasing my books! Too shy to come up for an autograph!"
A red haired witch swooned and Cygnus shot Lockhart a look of disgust.
"Kindly remove your hand from my person if you wish to keep it attached," Cygnus said evenly. Lockhart appeared to not have heard.
"Well, I'm sure this fine young gentleman would be pleased to know that I, Gilderoy Lockhart, will be teaching at the finest Wizarding school in all of the world this fall. That's right, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
Cygnus was tempted to bang his head on the table to relieve himself from the sudden headache that popped up. He would need to arm Harry with something more powerful than wards this time. Maybe a bottle of poison to slip to the narcissist?
Lockhart continued his speech, and Cygnus winced at the flashes of light the camera emitted. This was more than Cygnus wanted, or needed in his lifetime. He made a show of pulling out a knife and inspecting it, eyeing the arm still around his shoulder.
Lockhart finally noticed his companion's behavior and recoiled sharply, alarmed. "My dear man, what were you planning with such a sharp object?"
"Just to see if you bleed stuffing, as your head is full of it," Cygnus snapped right back, sliding the knife away. He paid for his books, ignoring the scandalized looks from the crowd. He had better things to do than entertain a crowd that was stroking Lockhart's ego. He slipped through the crowd with his books, struggling to get out of the way of the horde of fans.
A streak of light blond made the man stop in his tracks. He gave a mental wince and sighed, turning to face Lucius Malfoy. Lucius had a book in one hand, a cane in the other, and wore an expression that clearly said he would rather be anywhere else.
"Hello, Lucius," Cygnus said evenly, his voice slightly raised to be audible in the noisy bookstore.
"Cygnus," Lucius acknowledged, his lips turning up to what Cygnus would describe as a mocking smile. "It's so good to see you. You've met my son, haven't you? Draco, greet our friend."
"Mr. Rowan," Draco said, bowing politely. "It's nice to see you again."
"Likewise, young Malfoy," Cygnus said, nodding at the two. "Well, it was nice to see you again, but I must be going. Getting out of that crowd took some serious effort."
"I look forward to seeing you on the post in the morning," Lucius said, his words polite, but his tone sneering. Cygnus glared.
"As if you're one to talk," he said. "Aren't you on the post almost every day?"
Lucius gave Cygnus a smile and waved to Draco. "Come."
Cygnus watched them go into the bookstore. Lucius stopped to taunt the redheaded family, but Cygnus didn't stick around to watch. Instead he made his way out the doors and headed towards Knockturn Alley to buy Harry's Potion's ingredients.
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Harry was reading his Transfiguration book when a CRACK echoed through his room. Immediately, he snapped up his wand out, despite the ban on using magic, and his body tensed. He raised his wand, frowning deeply at the tiny creature with large tennis ball green eyes and floppy ears. It was wearing a filthy pillowcase and had very long fingers and toes.
"Harry Potter!" it squeaked. "So long, Dobby has wanted to meet you sir! Such an honor…"
Harry frowned a little, lowering his wand but not letting his guard down in the least.
"Who are you and how did you get into my bedroom? My dad has wards up," Harry said carefully. He knew that Cygnus had redid the wards while he was at Hogwarts, but considering how this creature was able to get in, perhaps Cygnus hadn't done them well enough.
"Dobby, sir! Just Dobby. Dobby the house elf."
Harry paused and gestured to his bed. "Sit."
Dobby was looking at Harry, his eyes wide. Then he burst into tears. Loud, messy tears. They splashed on his pillowcase and plopped onto the floor. Harry recoiled in shock.
"Sit?! Never ever…. Never…," Dobby wailed.
"I'm sorry! I… Didn't mean to offend you or anything," Harry tried, the noise making him wince. Dobby looked up at him with wet eyes, though they were shining with admiration.
"Offend Dobby? Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard—like… like an equal…" the elf whimpered.
It took some time, but Harry finally managed to get Dobby to sit on the bed. He offered Dobby a towel to wipe his face, but that only made the elf burst into tears again. Finally, Harry took it upon himself to wipe the elf's tears away, frowning.
"You… can't have met many decent wizards then," Harry remarked, pulling the towel away from Dobby's dried face.
Dobby shook his head. Then, without warning, he started to bang his head against the wall, repeating "Bad Dobby! Bod Dobby!". Harry hissed loudly, yanking Dobby away from the wall glancing at the wall to see if Dobby's enthusiastic performance had left a dent. Finding none, he dropped the elf back on his bed.
"What do you think you're doing?" Harry asked, looking at Dobby's face, wondering if the house elf would bruise.
"Dobby had to punish himself, sir… Dobby almost spoke ill of his family," Dobby said, his eyes rolling a little. Harry frowned, tilting his head.
"Your… family?" Harry repeated.
"The Wizarding family Dobby serves, sir. Dobby is a house elf—bound to serve one house and one family forever…"
Harry blinked. The house elf, wearing a pillowcase of all things and looking miserable, didn't seem to be very happy serving his family. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
At once, Dobby wailed in gratitude, claiming about how "good" and "kind" he was. Harry was starting to think that he should just refrain from talking with the elf, as it appeared anything Harry said would set him off.
Dobby took several minutes to collect himself. Harry took the opportunity to speak.
"Well, Dobby. Why are you here?" Harry asked.
"Harry Potter is great and powerful. But Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."
Harry stared at the elf. "Why not?" he asked, gripping the towel so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.
"There is a plot. Dobby has known it for months," Dobby said, shifting a little.
"Whose plot is it and what are they plotting?" Harry asked, before Dobby could continue, as it looked like Dobby was just going to praise him again.
Dobby made a funny choking noise before standing up and running to the window and banging his head upon it. Harry shot up, ran forward and seized Dobby by the back of his pillowcase, pulling him towards the bed again.
"Alright. I get it," Harry said. "But I do have to go back. My friend is there and I would hate to leave him in danger."
"Friend who doesn't even write to Harry Potter?" Dobby asked, dazed.
Harry frowned, trying to come up with a reason why Dobby would know such a thing. Then he said, "How would you know that my friend isn't writing to me."
Dobby's face flashed with guilt as he reached into his pillowcase. "Harry Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby."
"Dobby…" Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to contain his frustration. He took several deep breaths. "Taking my letters won't make me want to heed your warning. Do you know of my dad? Cygnus Rowan?"
Dobby nodded, his ears flapping as he "Dobby has heard stories of a great Ward Master. One in which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wishes to possess."
"Yes. He had built wards around me," Harry said confidently. "No one has been able to harm me because of them. Not even Voldemort-"
Dobby clamped his hands over his ears and moaned out, "Ah, speak not the name."
"Sorry," Harry said quickly. "So I think it's safe to say that I am safe where I go. Even at Hogwarts, no one will be able to curse me."
Dobby considered this statement. Harry sighed.
"Look, whoever is causing trouble; if they know anything about my dad, they'd back off. My dad isn't a good person to cross and I highly doubt that anyone would be able to break the wards my dad put his heart and soul into," Harry said. "Besides, attacking me would also risk Draco Malfoy getting angry, and I highly doubt that Lucius Malfoy would take that lying down."
Dobby quivered and nodded. "Dobby must go now! Dobby's Master's is calling Dobby."
And with that, Dobby vanished with a CRACK. Harry ran his hand through his hair and smiled. Finally, the crazy elf decided to leave him—
That was when Harry remembered that Dobby still had his letters from Draco. Harry swore loudly, scrambling around his bed to see if the elf had dropped them. He hadn't.
Harry sighed, picking up a sheet of parchment, getting ready to write a letter to Draco.
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"Remember what I told you about Lockhart," Cygnus said. They were in King's Cross, walking towards the barrier. Harry felt the familiar sensation of passing through the wall as he reached the steam train. "And don't forget to bring your wards around. They'll save your life." He smiled at Harry and gently gave him a hug. "Come back home for Christmas. I'll be waiting."
"Thanks dad," Harry said affectionately, immensely glad that there was only a few people on the platform. He was twelve already; hugs were something for little kids. Still he didn't protest it. "I'll write."
"I know you will," Cygnus said fondly. "Be safe."
Harry broke away from his dad and headed towards the train, trunk in tow. He had spoken to Cygnus about Dobby and the warning the house elf mentioned. Cygnus had listened quietly and asked Harry a few questions. Somehow, Cygnus had known that Dobby belonged to the Malfoy family. Which, now that Harry thought about it, made sense. Cygnus and Lucius had talked several times now, and it wouldn't have been farfetched if Lucius had invited Cygnus to his home.
With that conclusion, Harry had the mind to ask Draco what he or his dad was planning. Cygnus had shot down that idea, saying that it would be better to observe than to confront. If the Malfoy family was planning to hurt Harry or anything similar, telling them would cause them to be even more secretive. As their house elf had come to visit Harry to warn him, Dobby would be at risk of punishment.
So Harry had chosen to remain silent. He had run through all kinds of scenarios in his mind at what it could be, but had ultimately come up with nothing. Well, nothing that hadn't already happened anyway.
Cygnus mentioned that Lucius Malfoy had been a suspected Death Eater, but that there had been not enough proof to convict him. That was enough for Harry to conclude that perhaps the Malfoys were only befriending him to hand him over as a hostage.
He didn't share that thought with Cygnus though. He knew his dad already worried enough about his safety at Hogwarts and the news that Draco might be offering him as a hostage might push him to withdraw Harry from Hogwarts. Despite the dangers, Harry actually enjoyed living at the enormous castle. He enjoyed the magic in the air, the ghosts, the library, and even the classes. The homework, not as much, but one couldn't have everything.
Harry smiled as he sat in an empty compartment, pulling out a novel to read. Draco had yet to show up, but when he did, he would explain that he was unable to receive his letters as he had been in Taiwan for most of his summer.
The train lurched forward at eleven sharp and Harry closed his book, wondering if Draco would seek him out or if Harry would have to face him back in the dorms. He wasn't wondering much longer as the door slid open and Draco Malfoy plopped into the seat opposite of him, sighing deeply.
"You look worn out," Harry remarked.
Draco gazed at him and said, "It's my father. He wants me to make more friends in Slytherin."
"Haven't you?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "Crabbe and Goyle? And Nott?"
"Nott was okay, but my father thinks Crabbe and Goyle are rather… er, in his words, useless," Draco said. "Not that I don't disagree. I still don't think Goyle can read…"
Harry snorted and glanced out the window. Draco continued.
"So, did you do anything interesting over the summer? How was it back in Taiwan?" Draco asked. "I asked my father if we could go, but all he said was that the restrictions on magicals traveling to Asian countries was more trouble than it was worth. You're lucky that your father's from there."
"It wasn't bad. It was hot though. And a lot of bugs," Harry said, looking at Draco. "Too many bugs. But the food was great and my grandparents were well too."
"Really? That's interesting," Draco said, not sounding very interested at all. Instead, he launched into his own experiences of travel, detailing each trip. Harry listened quietly to each and every one of his stories until the witch with the cart arrived.
"Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked.
Harry selected a few sweets and two bottles of butterbeer. Draco grinned, buying many snacks and flopping back down in the seat, speaking through the mouthfuls of food.
"Say, Draco?" Harry asked when Draco had paused in his story to take a bite of chocolate frog. "What do you think about the new Defense teacher. You saw him, didn't you?"
Draco paused and thought about it for a second. "Well, I think we won't learn much from him. Quirrell was bad enough, but Lockhart might actually be worse."
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Despite Cygnus' warning and Draco's prediction, Harry was definitely not prepared for Defense Against Dark Arts.
The minute he walked into the class, Harry was bombarded with photographs of a smiling Gilderoy Lockhart. Harry could see that the front desk held nothing but books written by the man. Harry shared a look with Draco as they sat down together, increasingly worried about the content of the class.
"Looks like you might have been right," Harry said. He hadn't bothered to read Lockhart's books, as he had more important subjects like Transfiguration and Potions to work with. And now that he saw what kind of classroom the man had, he was glad that he didn't.
"Did you read his books?" Draco whispered, leaning over to Harry.
"Nope," Harry responded. "Did you?"
Draco shook his head as Lockhart introduced himself and mentioned that they were going to be taking a "little quiz". Harry sagged a little in relief. He was expecting a "pre-test" to test their knowledge on Defense, as Lockhart probably didn't know what they had covered already.
To his horror, he received a three page, fifty four question 'quiz' that consisted of no Defense whatsoever. All the questions had apparently come from his books and they were all about Lockhart's personal life. Harry read through the test in disgust, mumbling about the waste of paper, and simply started to guess answers.
Draco seemed to be doing something similar, peeking over Harry's shoulder to see what he had written. He snickered at Harry's answer to "What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?" as Harry had written "To stop being a moron".
Half an hour later, Lockhart had collected the quizzes back. Harry twirled his quill between his fingers, his hand on his bag, itching to leave. He glanced at the clock and sighed a little, frowning as Lockhart announced that they were going to get down to business.
"I must ask you not to scream," Lockhart was saying, "It might provoke them."
Then he whipped the cover off the cage. Harry jerked backwards as he noticed the electric blue creatures rattling the bars and squeaking loudly.
"Freshly caught Cornish Pixies," Lockhart announced, looking rather proud of himself.
Harry suppressed a snort of amusement, wondering if Lockhart had some way of controlling the devious little creatures. He shot a small frown to Draco, who returned it, before looking back at the front of the room.
"Right then, let's see what you make of them!" Lockhart said. Then he opened the cage.
Chaos reigned. Draco shot out of his chair with a terrified yell as the pixies shot towards him like a bullet. Papers were flying everywhere as people scrambled to get out of the way of the nasty Cornish Pixies. Ink splashed out of bottles and toppled onto the floor, spraying people and furniture alike. Several pixies shot out the window, spraying the back row with glass and wood.
"Come on now—round them up, round them up, they're only pixies," Lockhart was shouting. Harry ducked under his desk as someone's robes flew towards him, immensely glad that he had his bag on him. The wards kept anything from hitting him, including pixies. He looked up in time to see Lockhart brandish his wand and shout, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi."
It had no effect whatsoever. One of the pixies grabbed Lockhart's wand and threw it out the window just as the bell rang. People made a mad dash for the exit, Harry following close behind. He didn't want to be the one left with the pixies.
Draco tried to push Harry to move faster, panicking as the pixies shot towards them. Harry activated the wards just in time for the pixie to bounce off. Then Harry was out the door, away from the insanity named Gilderoy Lockhart.
Draco was still grumbling at dinner, shooting Lockhart disgusted glares. Harry wasn't much better, still aggravated that the Professor had dared to set pixies loose on them. He had written a furious letter to Cygnus detailing what had happened.
"Incompetent... My father will hear about this. Mark my words," Draco snarled.
Harry almost hoped that Lucius would come to Hogwarts just to throw Lockhart out of it.
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Harry glanced at Draco as Draco marveled over his new broomstick. He had gotten it that morning, through owl post, but the excitement had not worn off yet.
"It's the latest model, Nimbus Two Thousand and One. I'll let you ride it, Harry," Draco said. "It's a lot of fun. You don't play Quidditch though, do you?"
"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "I'll just watch. You're pretty good at it though?"
"Well, I've had practice," Draco said, nodding. "I'm going to be the Slytherin Seeker."
"Good luck," Harry said. Hopefully, this meant that Draco wasn't following him all the time at school, or tagging him like an extremely paranoid shadow.
"Thanks Harry. Hey, do you think that—"
Draco broke off as he noticed Lockhart walking towards them. Harry felt his dinner twist in his gut as he noticed Lockhart's wide grin.
"Harry, Harry, Harry," Lockhart said in a rather excited tone. "I heard you were giving out signed photos. Young Mister Creevey mentioned that he had a photo he wanted you to sign."
Draco choked into his pudding. Harry felt his eyebrow twitch in irritation as the man continued, apparently not noticing the sour look on Harry's face.
"Of course, I had to come over and warn you. Fame is a fickle friend, Harry," Lockhart was saying. Harry turned back to his dessert and tried to stomach the rest of his pumpkin jelly.
It took several minutes for Lockhart to realize that Harry wasn't listening anymore and then clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Of course, if you have any questions about your fame and how to deal with it, you can always approach me. I'll be happy to help!"
Draco waited until Lockhart was out of earshot.
"Why don't I have a signed photo?"
"Shut up," Harry grumbled, pushing his plate away.