A/N: This chapter has some things from chapter 9 of Harry Potter and the Halfblood Prince in it, fair warning. Chapter 10 is very nearly finished too.
The beta-ing of this chapter was divided between my usual beta – Shadowz – and the official new person to this team – HP-DG-SB – thanks to these two amazing individuals who has to deal with me and my temperament.
Also: Thank you to every reviewer, follower and alerter of this fic. I look at the mass of hits this fic gets and my jaw drops every time.
Chapter 9:I've got friends on the other side…
Daphne was impressed. Harry had not only succeeded in non-verbal magic, he had also successfully alienated Draco from the Slytherin boys in their newly formed group, while also asserting his authority over them at the same time.
Over all of them, as a matter of fact, not that she minded. They were going to follow her new boyfriend. She wasn't going to allow him to walk over her, though.
"So, we were talking about a new name?" Harry said, returning to his seat between her and the bookworm.
"Harry's Army?" The Weasley girl suggested, "Though that seems like plagiarism on Dumbledore's Army."
"How about the anti-Voldemort league?" Bishop supplied. A few winces went around the room and he rolled his eyes, "It's a fucking word, guys, I'm not sticking needles into your eyes. Hey, that's not a bad idea." Bishop took out a notebook and wrote it down. Daphne stared for a moment before she shook her head. She wouldn't be surprised if he turned out to be a serial killer one day.
"Why are you so obsessed with eyeballs? Merlin, Bishop, grow up, or at least return to earth!" Blaise yelled at him.
"Well, I could have gotten a liking for other balls," Bishop wiggled his eyebrows, "Be glad I didn't. That would've hurt more."
Daphne was inclined to agree. Bishop was a… a strange fellow, very strange. Unhinged in ways she didn't understand and didn't want to understand, but he was resourceful, and they needed that.
"What about the Defence Cluster?"
"Potter Pantry?"
"Harry's Harem of Heroes?"
"Gross, Bishop!" Blaise screamed, "What is wrong with you?" Daphne wanted to laugh: something inappropriate came up and Blaise just assumed it was Bishop.
"WHAT? That wasn't even me!" Bishop defended himself, "It was Nott, I swear, and I have no intention of forming a harem with any of you! Okay, maybe I'd like to shag just one of you, or two, but not all at the same time!"
"That's not exactly what a harem is, Bishop," Granger said, and Daphne suppressed the need to roll her eyes.
"He knows, he's probably the only pureblood who would happily give up magic and go live with muggles," Blaise shivered, "I couldn't imagine giving up magic."
"I am never allowing any of you to buy seats at the Wizengamot," Daphne interrupted, "Honestly; we can't stay on one topic long enough without you wandering off to talk about harems and balls!"
Silence reigned for a full two minutes before laughter burst out in the compartment. Even Granger was laughing. Daphne couldn't help but laugh too – she'd chosen a bad set of words. She would admit that.
"How about…" Ron started once they'd settled down, "Just the Union?"
Daphne thought about that – it was actually a very clever name: they were already uniting the mortal enemies of Hogwarts within their very compartment, and Tracey, the Froges – all those families were going to join them.
"Well, well, Weasley," Blaise had a crooked grin (the one that usually made Pansy look at him and sigh), "That is not too bad, I must admit."
"That's what we are," Harry said firmly, "We're the Union. Good job, Ron. It was a really good idea."
"Always the tone of surprise," Ron teased his best friend, Harry laughed. Hermione was rubbing off on him, it seemed. Daphne didn't miss the look Granger bestowed upon her ginger friend either.
That was how the Union started: in a train compartment with a mass of Gryffindors, Slytherins and a pair of young Ravenclaws; one was trying to convince everyone that lemon drops were from beyond this earth.
A few hours later and Harry had fallen asleep. His head was on her shoulder and she had read the entire Quibbler from front to back. The article at the front page gave a decent description of Harry killing her father out of an act of mercy. They had it wrong, she was the one to use the most awful of curses on the man that she hated, but Harry had mostly killed him with his torture.
Harry was sort of evil, wasn't he? Well, not entirely evil, maybe he has a streak of sadism hidden in the darkest corners of his mind. Not that she could blame him – all of them harboured an amount of darkness inside them, but it depended on when and how many times they allowed that darkness the upper-hand. Harry managed to use his darkness as a weapon.
Daphne was a weaker individual than Harry, and he had allowed his darkness to reign for a while. When he tried to take his own life, when he tortured her father – she didn't think he would normally do something like that, and she could see what he had done somewhat bothered him, but he didn't regret it either.
Though she… she was darker than she cared to admit. The fact that she left her sister behind to deal with her father's nature was simply proof of that. She knew Astoria wanted to talk, wanted to know what was going on and why the hell she was going around with Harry Potter.
The Slytherin knew she would be subjected to a questioning, and she wondered how much she should tell. She wouldn't tell Tori that she had stolen their father's last breath, but she would tell her about his wandering hands. She would simply get her shields ready for the questioning.
"Harry – did you use a non-verbal spell on Malfoy?" Granger asked, and Daphne looked around; she hadn't realised he was awake. "I didn't hear you say anything."
"Non-verbal spells are damn useful," Harry said, rubbing his eyes and stretching his body, "And it also looks really cool."
"I won't argue there, but how did you manage it?" Hermione asked, and then her brown eyes landed on Daphne, "Did you help him?"
"Of course I did," Daphne said, "We were together in a house for nearly two months, Granger, we couldn't just sit around all day."
"That's not what I…" Granger started, her face resembling a ripe tomato, "I'm glad you're taking this seriously, is all."
"You're jealous," The Weasley girl said, "Harry can do something you can't, and that infuriates you."
"Possibly," Granger admitted, "But they're so hard to master and Harry couldn't even accomplish Occlumency. No offense, Harry, but your aptness for Gryffindor emotionality was standing in your way."
"I know," Harry told his friend, a smug smile in place, "But I got a bit sick of being everyone's little puppet, so I took matters into my own hands."
"I know, but you mastered non-verbal spells!" Granger shouted, throwing her hands in the air. Daphne thought it was a tad dramatic, but held her tongue.
"You forgot what I'm capable of, Hermione," Harry said harshly, looking Hermione in the eye, "Don't get into the habit of underestimating me."
"I don't, Harry, but this is huge!" The bushy haired girl was beaming, "I knew you were good, Harry, but you're more than simply good. You are brilliant!"
"Well, of course I am," Harry stuck his nose in the air, "I did defeat Voldemort with my giggling when I was only a year old, you know."
"I'm betting it was something in your diaper, mate" Ron said, his hands in the air, "Just saying." Daphne laughed at that, and Weasley offered her a grin.
The rest of the ride to Hogwarts was spent with the odd group attempting to communicate, and sometimes even succeeding. Blaise and the Weasley boy found common ground in Quidditch when it was revealed they supported the same team. Granger and Astoria were discussing, believe it or not, a muggleborn's guide to Hogwarts – also known a Hogwarts: A History. They were possibly the only two in the entire compartment who actually read it.
Crabbe had warmed up to Bishop junior, it seemed, because he was hanging onto every word Bishop uttered. Daphne strained her ears and realised they were discussing the sixth year Charms class – oh, that had been an interesting year.
Longbottom and Nott were making plans to tutor one another – Daphne frowned, how the heck did that happen? Last time she heard Theo rant about Longbottom's ineptness in almost everything, and now they were going to be study partners. How about that?
. . .
Harry was waiting outside Dumbledore's office, it had been after dinner, after Snape was turned into their Defence professor and a new man, named Slughorn, was their new Potions master.
A certain ex-Potions educator, who was mimicking Harry's posture of folded arms and a scowl, was waiting outside too.
"Potter, what do you think you're doing here?" Snape had asked as he neared the gargoyle. Harry had been only waiting a few minutes – he'd made sure to slip away from the festivities a tad earlier, that way Dumbledore couldn't avoid him again.
He couldn't believe that Snape would be teaching Defence this year – what the hell? Snape would fail Harry just because he was Harry Potter and not due to his stellar abilities in that class. At least Snape couldn't refuse Harry's presence in his class with his OWL result.
But maybe the new Potions Master of Hogwarts would allow Harry to participate in the Potions class now, he could hope.
He had also noted Dumbledore's blackened hand. What had the headmaster done? Would he be all right? Had he fallen victim to a curse? But not cast directly by a wand, Harry recalled from Daphne's lessons, perhaps Dumbledore touched something he shouldn't have.
"I'm waiting for Professor Dumbledore, sir," Harry answered calmly, though unable to keep the scowl from his face, "I think he would like to know where I've been this summer."
"Indeed we all would, Potter," Snape sneered, "The Dark Lord is back and you think it's a good idea to hide from Professor Dumbledore? Explain to me how that works exactly in that muddled mind of yours."
"Sir, with all due respect, my mind isn't nearly as muddled as you would like to assume," Harry made sure to keep his tone neutral, whilst side-stepping the first question. He wanted to talk to Snape too – maybe he could kill two birds with one stone. Though it would be exhausting and he wondered if it would be worth it.
He also recalled blasting Malfoy with a Bombarda, which was traditionally a spell that would blast a wall to pieces, but he'd used it blast Draco out the door of their compartment, making Harry come to the conclusion that he used a softer version of the spell and that he had controlled the strength mentally. He assumed as much when he didn't pick pieces of Draco off the wall.
The same had happened with Aguamenti, sort of, because he had only seen it in Daphne's mind and could use it flawlessly. He… he stole her knowledge.
"That's not what I saw in there last year, Potter, you cannot control your emotions," Snape persisted, "And you are too arrogant to admit that. You're just like your father…"
"Would you get over that?" Harry snapped against his own better judgement, "I am Harry Potter, all right? Get the hell off my case. I'm not going to reveal your underwear to the entire school, I'm not my father and you should learn to control your own bloody emotions." Harry hadn't been able to stop himself there. He took a deep breath and forced his emotions to the side. "I'm stubborn, reckless and many things, but arrogance isn't among my characteristics."
"He's quite right, Severus," Dumbledore's voice came from behind him, and Harry turned to face him, "Good to see you, Harry."
"You too, sir. Now can we get into your office? I want to talk to you and I don't think you would like me to do it out here."
"Of course, Harry. I even have a few new possessions for you to throw around." Dumbledore said good-naturedly, speaking the password and the gargoyle moved. Harry didn't even blink at the mention of their previous discussion, where he had nearly destroyed Dumbledore's office.
"You're welcome to join us, Severus," Dumbledore said to the dark man, "I rather think Harry wants a word with you too."
"Yes, that would be lovely," Harry said sweetly, "Come on, sir, I want to pick your bones too. I mean, I have a bone to pick with you too." The Gryffindor followed the older man up the stairs and he heard Snape's cloak swish behind him.
Dumbledore's office had been restored to the state prior to Harry's tantrum, he noted, and his fingers itched to do something again. Dumbledore settled down behind his desk and gestured for Harry to sit. Harry declined – it would be more dramatic if he stood. A sentiment, he saw, echoed by Snape.
"I was hoping to speak to you too, Harry," Dumbledore said, choosing to sit down, "I was hoping you would attend private lessons with me this year."
"No thanks, sir, I have all the training I need," Harry said immediately, causing Dumbledore to lift his eyebrows in surprise, "Are you really going to pretend that you're not even the tiniest bit curious as to where I was this summer?"
"Of course, Harry," Dumbledore replied, "You had me worried. It wasn't very wise, but I couldn't find you." Because Lupin kept you off my back, Harry thought, bless that man. He made a mental note to thank Lupin later.
"I'm going to play open cards with you, sir," Harry said, he had decided that a long time ago – he needed to trust Dumbledore again, and he would start with what he had done. Dumbledore would possibly expel him, but then Harry would just continue his training in private. Daphne assured him that Durmstrang would take him without batting an eye and there were more than enough private teachers, who would happily take him on as a student, but he would have to keep what he had done to Draco quiet or Snape would rain down on him.
In all honesty Harry was just happy he hadn't blown the blond boy up by that spell, because he was sure two murders, even if one was an abuser, would not go unnoticed.
"Professor Snape – I don't know if you want to hear what this arrogant little brat did this summer, but I frankly don't care. You need to wake the hell up and realise I'm not my father and that you're an idiot for taking an old grudge out on me."
"Harry, that is inappropriate. Apologise to Severus, please." Dumbledore said calmly, his voice cracking at several places in one short sentence.
"I will if he apologises for victimising me all these years," Harry said icily. Neither professor dared to say anything. Harry thought his glare must've gotten better than the last time he'd practiced it in the mirror.
"I got the Trace removed, firstly, I won't say how, though, I signed a contract," That was a lie, but he didn't want to put Cyrus and his father into a difficult position, "I've also taken to living somewhere else. It's under the Fidelius Charm and I am not the secret keeper, so don't bother asking. Daphne Greengrass has been living with me for the last two months and I killed her father."
"WHAT?" Snape burst out, moving closer to Harry, "Potter, you…"
"He deserved it!" Harry yelled at the hooked-nose man, who was now face-to-face with him, "You have no idea what he did, so don't you dare!"
"Harry," Dumbledore called to him – he sounded reasonably calm, "I know all of this, my dear boy."
"No you don't," Harry said, pulling away from the yellow-toothed sneer he was receiving from Snape, "And that infuriates you, doesn't it? You guessed, but you didn't know. And you hate it when things aren't under your control."
"Harry…"
"I'm not done yet," Harry intercepted him, "I am tired of you manipulating me, sir, into doing things I don't fully understand. I just played my entire hand by telling you what I did, and I demand to know why you treat me like a fucking puppet!"
Dumbledore was silent for a few minutes. Snape had taken a seat. Harry wondered if he should have thrown a shiny trinket for effect, but thought it might have been a bit over the top.
"Harry, you are the only one that can defeat Voldemort," Dumbledore said, wiping his healthy hand through his beard, "And I have to prepare you for this."
"I've been doing fine by myself," Harry snapped, "You kept information from me. Why? Is it because you can't stand someone knowing more than you do?" Harry
"Potter, that's enough." Snape said, "Apologise."
"Hush, I haven't even started on you yet." Harry glowered at him. Harry rather enjoyed this – this battle of wits, though he was just being, well, arrogant, but it was going to be a one-time thing.
"Enough," Dumbledore said, "You're right, Harry, I have been keeping things from you. I didn't think you were ready."
"Are we going to ignore the fact that Potter murdered a man?" Snape demanded, his voice as high as Harry had ever heard it.
"So have you, so have I – we can't judge, Severus." Dumbledore said softly, and Harry saw Snape's face fall. Oh, that had struck a nerve, hadn't it?
"Shall we skip the crap?" Harry asked, "And go right to what exactly it is you expect me to do."
"As I said, I expect you to defeat Voldemort, and only you can do it," Dumbledore said bluntly (for once, Harry hoped), "And he had, as I believe, a number of… certain dark artefacts that he created."
"Headmaster, are you sure this is wise?" Snape's tone was careful. It was a welcome difference than the sour and demanding demeanour.
"Hush," Harry said again, and Snape was rivalling uncle Vernon's angry face, "It's annoying, isn't it? You've been doing it to me for years. Revenge is a bitch."
"I think it is wise," Dumbledore said, eyeing Harry, before smiling at Snape, "I know now what I must do."
"Care to enlighten me?" Snape spat. He was furious at Dumbledore. Dumbledore just got a boost in Harry's eyes, and Harry looked at his mentor expectantly.
Dumbledore lifted his hand, the one that looked like it had been in a muggle toaster, and smiled grimly.
"I'm afraid my time is running out, Harry," Dumbledore hesitated, focusing on Snape rather than his student, "And I wanted to leave you the task of finding these artefacts, but I see now I should do it alone."
"No, no, no," Harry started, "So you can claim to be the great vanquisher of evil? I think not. You spent all this time building the precious boy who lived, now let him fly."
"How poetic, Potter," Snape sneered at him, "The headmaster is attempting to show you a kindness and you throw the offer in his face."
"No, sir, I'm not. I think it's only right that he includes me in this plan of his; he did spend a lot of time on building me up for what's to come. I'm not doing this to be a hero – I want to kill Voldemort because he deserves it, not because I have some complex about saving people, at least not anymore." Harry rolled his shoulders and shot his professor a dark look. Harry was tired of people walking over him.
"Very well, Harry, you may join me," Dumbledore agreed, "I was hoping you would, if I'm honest. If I know Tom as well as I think I do, which is very well, mind you, then one person alone cannot do this."
"He is sixteen!" Snape hissed, "We didn't do what we did so he could be slaughtered!"
"What did you do?" Harry asked curiously, feeling as though the teacher had spoken without thought, and Snape blanched. He had let that one slip, Harry guessed, but now he needed to know.
"That is not something we are discussing now, Harry," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes on Harry, "Let's not wander off topic."
Harry nodded. Dumbledore was being stern, which he hardly ever was with Harry, and Harry understood to back off. He hadn't been expelled, hadn't lost house points and hadn't been obliviated, which was good. Now he just had to shut up about Draco and all would be well. Well, until the blond opened his mouth, that was.
"Dark artefacts," Harry started again, "What exactly do they do?"
"They harbour a piece of one's soul," Dumbledore said, holding his breath briefly, "Horcruxes." Wizards could do that? They could put their soul into something? They could split their souls? That was… that was amazing. Terrifying, yes, but nonetheless amazing.
"That was what that was?" Snape was even angrier, "You didn't feel the need to tell me I was handling a curse caused by a Horcrux?"
"Not the Horcrux, dear boy, their protective enchantments," Dumbledore said absently, rummaging through a drawer, "Voldemort tried to become immortal by creating them. As far as I know, he created seven. Two are already destroyed. A ring," He pulled the piece of jewellery from the drawer, "And this." He took out a book Harry recognised immediately.
"Tom Riddle's diary?" Harry asked, "So that was why the memory was so real. It actually was Voldemort."
"It would appear so," Dumbledore said, "Now I have reason to believe that he chose items of the founders of Hogwarts to create the others."
"What makes you so certain, Albus?" Snape asked, frowning, "Have you any proof?"
"Yes, I do. A series of memories, in fact. One of the last of the Gaunts – that was how I discovered the ring; it was the Gaunt family heirloom that young Tom Riddle took from his uncle. I persuaded his uncle to give me the memory shortly before he passed away."
"Okay, so what else?"
"A memory of a house elf. Hebzibah Smith was the last descendant of Hufflepuff and she had in her possession that Tom Riddle had been highly interested in – Hufflepuff's cup."
"That has been missing for ages," Snape uttered, "How do you expect to find it?"
"Didn't he trust Lucius Malfoy with that book?" Harry asked, pointing to the stabbed diary, "Wasn't there another family he trusted as much?"
"I can only think of Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange," Snape replied, "She's so in love with him she'd happily run into a blazing fire for him."
"And then I suspect he used Slytherin's locket," Dumbledore said, "Because I have a memory where one of the owners of Borgin and Burkes admits to bedazzling an unfortunate girl out of it. As it were, this poor girl was Tom's mother, and she was just happy to take anything offered to her. The contrast, however, falls where the locket isn't in Borgin and Burkes anymore."
"A cup, a locket – what was Ravenclaw's item?" Harry wanted to know. He didn't ask about Gryffindor, because the sword with a ruby hilt was behind Dumbledore in a glass case.
"The diadem," Snape whispered, "It has been lost for centuries."
"A crown?" Harry was unbelieving, "How do you lose that?"
"It was lost in Ravenclaw's lifetime, Potter," Snape said, though he wasn't sneering, and Harry realised, in complete and utter horror, that he and Snape had been working together, "No one alive knows where it is."
"Have you considered asking someone dead?" Harry said sarcastically, "Right, those generally don't speak."
"Potter, you insolent little… genius," Snape started with a scowl, but his expression turned to one of deep thought. Harry's mouth hung open. Had Snape actually said that? Wait until he told Ron and Hermione!
"Sir, would you repeat that?" Harry asked, sticking his pinky in his ear, "I need to make sure I heard that right."
"You really are insufferable, Potter," Snape sighed, "But I think you got something there. Why not ask the Grey Lady?" Snape was looking at Dumbledore.
"Oi, it was my idea, you should ask for my approval!" Harry huffed, "Honestly, sir, we were bonding here, and working together. I was about to hug you."
Snape looked horrified. Dumbledore burst out laughing. Harry and Snape both looked at their headmaster, mirroring horrified expressions.
"Potter, we shall never head the end of this," Snape groaned as Dumbledore kept on laughing, and Harry was scared Dumbledore would explode.
"Okay – locket, crown, cup. This sounds like a teenaged girl's collection. But let's move past that. What else?" He asked, leaving Dumbledore to his laughing.
"Nagini," Snape supplied, "The snake?"
"I know who Nagini is," Harry said, "But is it possible to put a piece of your soul into a living thing?" Harry was curious.
"Didn't he say he lived in a few animals when he came from Albania?" Snape wanted to know, "It is possible, I believe."
"Okay, we have them all, assuming the last piece is in that thing he calls a body." Harry asked his teachers. Snape nodded curtly and Dumbledore started laughing anew.
"Now we just have to find them," Harry said, "Easy. We'll do it in a week's time, no problem. But not tonight – I'm tired. But I want to ask you something first," Harry folded his arms again and faced Snape, "What is your problem with me? You seem to think I am this spoiled brat. Well, my relatives hated me, and I slept in a cupboard for the first eleven years of my life. I wasn't properly fed, I wasn't properly clothed and I didn't even know I was a wizard until Hagrid got me. So, what exactly is your problem with me? Or is it because you think I am my father incarnate?"
Snape sighed, "You remind me too much of her."
"My mother?" Harry asked. He didn't know who else this 'her' could be. Snape nodded, but didn't say anything more.
Dumbledore had sobered up immensely at that point and was eyeing the two men in his office. Harry didn't know what was going through the old coot's head, but he didn't think it could be good.
"I shall notify you if I find out anything," Dumbledore said, "And I expect the same from both of you."
Harry agreed and saw Snape nod curtly.
"Might I suggest you start the Occlumency lessons again?" Dumbledore asked, testing the waters, and Harry grinned.
"No, sir," He said, "I think he," he jabbed a thumb at Snape, "and I do not mix well."
"You need it, Potter. What if the Dark Lord decides to plant images into your mind again? We can't afford that risk." Snape was frowning again, though he looked tired too.
"Then he will be in a field of my darkest fears," The seeker answered, "I have been training, sir, and I can turn my mind against him if he tries that again."
"How can I believe you? You were awful at it last year."
"Then test me," Harry challenged him, "Not right now, I feel uncomfortable with us working together enough as it is."
"Then we're finished with this topic for the evening," Dumbledore said pleasantly, "Is there anything else, Harry?"
"Yes, before I forget," Harry thought of the Union, "Several students and I have decided to start up a club – two, actually."
"You want the Defence League you started last year to continue?" Dumbledore guessed, "That's not a bad idea, Harry, I was hoping you would."
"What about my house?" Snap ventured, "They won't like being excluded."
"Blaise Zabini, Cyrus Bishop, Tracey Davis, Vincent Crabbe, Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass have already expressed interest," Harry said, not missing a beat, "I've invited them and another few to join."
"When did this happen?"
"Over the summer and on the train," Harry answered, "You see, I was prejudiced against Slytherin, and I decided to stop. I know what it feels like when people raise expectations about me, so I won't do the same for them."
"You've been gathering allies," Snape contemplated, "You're more intelligent than I thought."
"Was that a compliment?" Harry asked, "Professor, are you starting to like me?" Harry knew he was pushing his luck, but he didn't want to stop now.
"Nonsense," Snape said indignantly, "You're Harry Potter and I hate you."
"For appearance-sake," Dumbledore added, winking at Harry. The Gryffindor couldn't keep his smile in – this was better than he had expected. "Well, it has been a very long evening for us all. I suggest we all go to bed and meet up again in a week's time?"
Harry and Snape both nodded, with Harry wondering how he had managed to drag his most hated professor into this.
"I also want to start a wizarding cricket club," Harry said – he'd been shocked to find out that the sport was simply 'wizarding cricket' and not some obscure name, "Just for fun."
"I don't see why not," Dumbledore shrugged, "Professor Vector is quite apt at that game; I shall discuss it with her in the morning."
"Sir, can I tell Ron and Hermione about this?" He asked, "And Daphne. Heaven knows what she'll do if I hide this from her."
"Of course, Harry," Dumbledore said, "But caution them as well. We can't risk Voldemort finding out that we know about his Horcruxes."
"They can be trusted, Potter?" Snape was hesitating. Harry nodded firmly – if there was anything he believed in, it was those three individuals.
"Can I trust you?" Harry asked his two educators, "You know what I did and I suspect I will be questioned."
"You'll get off, Potter," Snape sighed, "The headmaster and I will make sure of that. Come see me after classes tomorrow and I'll explain the plan to you."
"You want to help me?" Harry was sure he would be picking up his jaw off the floor when he had to leave.
"No, Potter," Snape barked at him. Harry waited for the sarcastic jab he was sure would follow, but none came. What the heck? Snape got up and started to walk to the door. He paused, looked around and met Harry's eyes. Harry saw a brief flicker of emotion on Snape's face before Snape spoke.
"It's after curfew, Potter, I will have to use my precious time to escort you back to Gryffindor Tower." There was the Snape Harry knew and didn't love, all snarky and snarling at his least favourite pupil. Ah, now he was stuck with Harry for another year. Harry wasn't too fond of that idea, but he did want to become an auror.
"Sir – I wanted to strut around like I owned the castle," Harry said dejectedly, making his way to Snape, "Because, you know, it's what I do at night." Why the hell was he making jokes to Snape of all people?
"You're intolerable, Potter," Snape sighed, "Good night, Albus."
"Good night, professor," Harry said to the headmaster and followed Snape down the spiral staircase.
The unlikely pair walked to Gryffindor Tower in silence, until they were a floor away.
"Professor Slughorn will accept you into his class," Snape said lowly, "It is my understanding you want to become an auror?" Harry nodded, "Speak to your head of house in the morning."
Another moment of silence followed.
"You were the only fifth year that managed an O in Defence Against the Dark Arts," Snape whispered it, "I assume I will see you in my class?"
"You sound disappointed, sir," Harry said, "But yes. And you can't stop me."
"I wasn't intending on doing so, Mr Potter," Snape said as they reached the right floor. They walked (No, Harry strutted) to the portrait, where the Fat Lady eyed the pair of them. "You didn't do half bad, Potter. You deserve this."
"Are you sure about that hug, professor?" Harry couldn't help it, he had to. Snape rolled his eyes and walked away. Harry gave the password (the one he'd made Ron give him earlier) and entered.
The Common Room was busy, as he'd expected, seeing as it was the first night back and the students had many thrilling tales to tell, but those tales seemed less important when he made his appearance.
"Where did you go, Harry?" Hermione was the first at his side and lead him away, "Please don't tell me you got into trouble."
"Of course I did," Harry said lowly, making sure everyone was listening, "Snape just about blew up when I asked to form a defence club."
"Why was Snape there?" Ron had arrived.
"I don't know, but Dumbledore gave it an okay." Harry smiled brightly suddenly, "The defence club is open."
"Can anyone join?" Dean had been listening in (just like most of the older Gryffindors), "Because with your help I got an E on my OWL. It would be great if I could join again."
"I agree," Seamus said from behind his friend, "Hi, Harry." He waved shyly. Harry recalled Seamus' brief time as a traitor the previous year, but shrugged it off. It was in the past, after all, and Seamus had been scared. Harry might have done the same thing if he had been in Seamus' shoes.
"Of course, anyone is welcome, but I don't think the first, second and third years should join." He said, and the years he mentioned groaned (and some looked relieved), "I had to give up my childhood. I'm not making anyone else give up theirs."
Harry thought that was dramatic enough, because he turned around and headed towards the dormitory.
. . .
The next morning came several announcements: first – the return of the, now legal, defence club and that two professors would only be supervising it and providing guidance if necessary, but further it would be taught by students; second – the wizarding cricket club would be formed as soon as the school got the equipment they needed.
And, finally, that the Aurors were at Hogwarts to investigate the murder of one Oscar Greengrass, students shouldn't be scared and shouldn't be afraid to ask questions either.
Harry met Daphne's eyes across the Great Hall. She didn't betray any emotion at all; she kept a fine mask on her face. Harry noted that she was surrounded by Davis, Blaise, Bishop and Crabbe, and Draco was left at the back end with Parkinson and Goyle. Harry looked at Cyrus next, who couldn't hide his glee. There was something wrong with that boy.
The handing out of class schedules was more complex this year; Professor McGonagall needed first to confirm that they had achieved the necessary OWL grades to continue with their chosen NEWTs.
Hermione was checked for almost everything but History of Magic and Care of Magical Creatures (she and Ron were both dropping it, and Harry feared he'd be the only left in the classroom) before she sped away to Ancient Runes.
Neville took a tad longer to sort out, because, apparently, Neville's grandmother was awfully persistent that he continue his Transfiguration classes despite getting only an A. McGonagall told him to take Charms and said something about dropping Augusta a note, reminding that just because she failed the subject, didn't mean it was useless.
Harry grinned – she'd done an excellent job of boosting Neville's self-esteem, especially when she mentioned that Augusta had to learn to be proud of Neville, seeing as he fought a bunch of Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic the previous year. That had left Neville's cheeks tinged with red.
McGonagall moved to Parvati, who wanted to know about Firenze. Harry had forgotten the Patil twins, he made a mental note to ask them to join the club again – they were both admirable fighters.
"So, Potter, Potter . . ." Professor McGonagall was consulting her notes as she turned to Harry. "Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration … all fine. I must say, I was pleased with your Transfiguration mark, Potter, very pleased. Now, why haven't you applied to continue with Potions? I thought it was your ambition to become an Auror?"
"It was, but you told me I had to get an 'Outstanding' in my OWL, Professor." He had thought it best to play dumb – he wouldn't want the others to think he got information they weren't privy to. Of course Slughorn would take him, his marks were high enough.
"And so you did when Professor Snape was teaching the subject. Professor Slughorn, however, is perfectly happy to accept N.E.W.T. students with 'Exceeds Expectations' at O.W.L. Do you wish to proceed with Potions?"
"Yes," said Harry, "but I didn't buy the books or any ingredients or anything-"
"Not to worry, Mr Potter," McGonagall said over her glasses, "Professor Slughorn will lend you some, I'm certain."
Harry was somehow glad that Hagrid had gone to get him and not the deputy headmistress – he wouldn't have been able to handle the cliché witch introducing him to this world.
"Very well, Potter, here is your schedule. Oh, by the way – twenty hopefuls have already put down their names for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I shall pass the list to you in due course and you can fix up trials at your leisure." Harry nodded, understanding that she meant he should do it 'soon', because she didn't want to lose after the fiasco named Umbridge the previous year.
"Thank you, Professor." Harry said, taking his time-table from her. Ron was soon cleared for all the subjects Harry had, minus Care of Magical Creatures.
Look," said Ron happily, studying his schedule, "we've got a free period now. . . and a free period after break . . . and after lunch . . . excellent."
Harry looked down at his own schedule, "I have class after lunch, Ron, Care of Magical Creatures."
"I can't believe you are still going to take that," Ron said, "Was there anyone else in our year that decided to stick around too?"
"I think so; otherwise McGonagall wouldn't have allowed me to take it."
The pair of friends returned to the Gryffindor Common Room, which was mostly empty. A few seventh years were enjoying an off period as well, it seemed, and Harry spotted Katie Bell. She jumped up from her seat when she saw him.
"I just knew you'd be captain, Harry," She grinned, "Let me know when trials are, okay?"
Harry would've liked to assure her that her spot was open for her, but if spending time with Daphne meant anything, it taught him not to make promises he can't keep.
"I will, thanks," He said, "Are you interested in joining the Union?"
"The what?"
"The Defence Club I'm starting up again – we renamed it the Union. You want to join?" He wanted her to; she was in Daphne's year and bound to know at least a quarter of what Daphne knew, if not more.
"Of course, I wanted to ask you about that anyway. Let me know when the meetings start and where, okay?" She smiled at him, before excusing herself.
Harry and Ron were lazing around the Common Room, and Harry thought he should get his girlfriend's timetable so they could spend time together whenever possible. Harry had also decided to start the Union meetings two days from now, which was why he had pinned up a sign-up sheet in the Common Room and instructed Luna and Daphne to do the same in their houses. Susan Bones had volunteered to put one up in Hufflepuff and give it back to him, so they could decide on a place.
The pair left Gryffindor Tower reluctantly and hour later, ready to take on Snape. Okay, Harry was ready to take him on, but he wasn't so sure of his best friend. They met up with Hermione halfway there, who was complaining about an essay and many books to read. Ron wasn't sympathetic.
The Slytherins were sharing this class with them. Harry offered nods at his classmates – Nott, Davis, Blaise, Cyrus and Crabbe were forming a small group, and Harry was delighted to see that Millicent Bulstrode met his eyes and gave a curt nod. Harry raised an eyebrow at Blaise, who smirked like a cat that just got cream.
Malfoy and Parkinson were scowling at their housemates. Harry was happy to see that Goyle wasn't there.
"You just watch – I bet Snape will give us loads of homework. Oh, I really hope you two finished the homework over the summer – you can't cost Gryffindor any points on the first day…"
"Hermione, you watched me do mine and checked my spelling," Ron rolled his eyes, "And Harry's is longer than yours for a change, so don't worry about us."
The classroom door opened and Snape appeared, in all his greasy glory. His hair was partially covering his face. Silence reigned for a full minute.
"Inside," Snape said lowly, and they filed in quickly. Snape was not to be messed with, that was the message. Harry wondered what the educator would do if Harry demanded the hug in front of his entire class.
The classroom was still gloomy, Harry thought when he entered – why couldn't Snape let sun through? Was he afraid of sunlight? Then Harry was struck with a horrible idea – what if Snape was a vampire?
Then Harry laughed at his own silliness – imagine that. He had never seen Snape outside in the direct sunlight, though…
There were pictures on the walls showing all kinds of torture on people or individuals with some grotesque disfigurements. Snape had a thing for gore, it seemed, and Harry vaguely wondered how Snape would have acted if he'd played witness to Oscar's murder.
"I have not asked you to take out your books," Snape said softly, though it didn't mean he didn't want them to hear, it meant he wanted them to pay attention; he closed the door and moved to face the class from behind his desk; Hermione dropped her copy of Confronting the Facelessback into her bag. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention."
Just like Harry thought. Harry was impressed – he was reading people now. His skills were improving!
Harry listened to Snape's speech, and thought Snape spoke of the Dark Arts like it was a forbidden lover. He pointed to the various pictures on his walls and assured them that they would have to face the dangers posed by those depictions.
"Your defences must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures" - he indicated a few of them as he swept past - "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" - he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony - "feel the Dementor's Kiss" - a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall - "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" – a bloody mass upon ground – muggles knew of those, though, they just preferred the word zombie.
"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" Parvati asked, her voice a bit higher than it was normally. "Is it definite, is he using them?"
"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," Snape said, his eyes resting on the girl, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now..."
He moved back to his desk and slammed his palms down onto his desk, leaning forward, his hair parting enough for a pair of black eyes to peer through them.
". . . you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of non-verbal spells. What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"
Harry hid a grin – he was no novice. He wasn't excellent with it, but he was very good with it. Snape was in for a surprise. Harry took some pride in the prospect of showing Snape that he had actually put in an effort.
Hermione's hand shot into the air immediately, of course, and Harry was torn between rolling his eyes and smiling fondly at her. He'd missed her.
Snape took his sweet time looking around the classroom, ascertaining that he had no choice, before saying (quite rudely, in Harry's opinion), "Very well – Miss Granger?"
"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," Hermione answered, "which gives you a split-second advantage."
"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six," Snape sneered dismissively, "but correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress in using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some" - his gaze remained unkindly on Harry again, who smirked at him, - "lack."!
Both of them were reminded of their disastrous Occlumency lessons of the previous year, but Harry had something to show for a summer of hard work and a Trace being removed. He wondered if he should take Snape's offer up on Occlumency, even if just to prove Snape wrong. Where did the time go when they were working together? Plotting the demise of twisted maniac, Snape offering Harry a compliment just outside the Gryffindor Common Room – good times.
"You will now divide," Snape waved a hand in the air, "into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."
Harry knew that Snape knew of the DA, but the teacher didn't know what Harry had taught them, and the majority of the Gryffindors could perform a Shield Charm. The rub was there though: none of them had to cast the spell whilst screaming it only in their minds. As expected, many of the students whispered the incantation under their breaths.
Hermione, of course, managed to get it right in under ten minutes. Harry felt that they deserved house points for Hermione's mind, but didn't say a word.
The bat swept between them as they attempted to master non-verbal spells, stopping when he saw Harry doing nothing. He'd told Ron to pair up with Parvati and was left alone.
"Not participating, Mr Potter?" Snape asked, lifting a dark eyebrow. Harry knew Snape wanted to say more, something about Harry's arrogance no doubt, but he held his tongue.
"No sir, I was waiting for you," Harry lifted his wand, "I wanted to make sure I understood this perfectly."
"I will not go easy on you, Potter," Snape said, lifting his own wand. Harry supressed a grin again.
"I wouldn't expect you to." Harry replied. Snape slashed his wand through the air without warning and without an incantation – so Snape was going to be non-verbal too, and Harry screamed Protego! in his mind. Snape's jinx bounded off and hit a nearby chair.
"Again," Harry ordered, and Snape, for once in his life as a teacher, did as a student told him, and he flicked his wand furiously. Harry did the same, and the spell danced off his shield.
Snape didn't do it again. Harry saw Snape look suspiciously at Hermione, but she'd laid her wand down and was whispering to Neville. Everyone else had abandoned their lesson and stood watching the pair.
"Holy crap, Harry," Cyrus said, moving closer, "I knew you were good, but… Harry, I think I might be in love with you."
Harry started to laugh, but saw movement out of the corner of his eye: a smooth wand movement that shot towards Harry. Harry turned and cast the shield with ease. When the curse bounced off, Harry flicked his wand, shooting Malfoy into the wall. He guessed Parkinson or Goyle had saved the blond boy the previous day on the train.
"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter," Snape sneered, "For an unnecessary use of violence. However, I award you thirty for not only mastering the protective shield but also another curse." Snape hadn't stopped sneering, "Miss Parkinson, accompany Mr Malfoy to the Hospital Wing and return to class immediately."
Silence reigned victorious for another whole minute. Snape had just awarded Gryffindor with points! That was huge! Oh, and Harry Potter could do non-verbal spells before Hermione Granger could, but that wasn't the shocking thing. They all knew Harry was the best at Defence and denying it would be stupid.
"Mr Potter, enlighten us, how did you do it?" Snape was behind his desk again.
"I just screamed the words really loudly in my mind," Harry said, "After I just sort of go numb."
"Your body goes numb?" Snape raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
"No, my mind," Harry tried to explain, "I didn't push my emotions away, I numbed them."
"You should take note of this," Snape said, "Mr Potter makes a valid point. A non-verbal spells is focused on your mind, on your mental ability. Sometimes wizards and witches use their emotions to cast the spell; anger, fear, even an astounding amount of happiness. But pushing your emotions away, or numbing them, is much harder to do." The bell sounded, signalling the end of class. Snape assigned them homework and ordered them to leave their summer homework on his desk to be graded.
"Mr Potter, stay a moment," He said, and Harry hung back. He assured his friends to go on without him.
"Sir?"
Snape held his index finger to his lips, tapped his wand, and sighed.
"Now we can talk. The Aurors indeed want to question you and Miss Greengrass. They will want to know where you were this summer."
"What should I tell them?" Harry asked, "I can't tell them where I really was."
"No, therefore we will be fabricating the story that you came to live with me for two months, where I taught you," Snape said, "And that we are under oath not to reveal what I taught you. The same message will be conveyed to Miss Granger and Mr Weasley, because they will be asked to testify too. Urge them to lie and to do so convincingly."
"Oh, that will feed Hogwarts' rumour mills for the rest of the year," Harry said, trying to groan, "And what about Daphne?"
"Bishop offered to lie about that," Snape frowned, "He's working on Miss Greengrass' alibi with her. Ours is sorted."
"Thank you, sir," Harry said, "And for awarding those points."
"Deserved, Potter. Now, be gone." Snape dismissed him, handing him a note to excuse him from being late to the next class. Harry nodded and left.
. . .
Care of the Magical Creatures was interesting. They were a total of four students in the class, and Hagrid was delighted to see Harry, but disappointed to see that Ron and Hermione had dropped the subject. It was Harry, Bishop (not surprisingly), Nott (very surprisingly) and Ernie MacMillan.
Hagrid gave them a short lesson on unicorns. What they ate, how strong they were, how magically powerful they were, where they lived, mating season – things like that. Then he showed them baby unicorns – golden, small and beautiful. Hagrid warned them, as he had done the previous year, not to approach the creatures (they were all male and unicorns didn't trust males), but Cyrus ignored him and went ahead.
Surprisingly, the baby unicorns started to play with him. It was funny seeing the creepy Cyrus Bishop, the boy with a strange bloodlust and a wish to own a human eyeball, playing with unicorns. Harry wished he had a camera.
The four boys walked back to the school building, with Harry, Nott and Bishop discussing the number of sign-ups on Slytherin's sign-up sheet. MacMillan interjected and said that all of their year had signed up.
Soon Harry and several of the others made their way to the dungeons to the classroom that once belonged to Snape. In the corridor Harry saw that only about a dozen were waiting for them. Blaise, Davis and Malfoy (who seemed all right except for a bruised ego) were waiting, and along with Nott and Bishop that closed the Slytherin department. Hermione, Ron, Harry and Parvati were the Gryffindors, Ernie was the only Hufflepuff, and there were four more Ravenclaws.
Malfoy was alone. He watched Harry with his former friends and scowled. Harry could just imagine what Draco could possibly be thinking. He was sure it involved a lot of name-calling, profanity and even a sneer or two.
The door to the classroom opened, and Slughorn came out. His belly was what you noticed first, though, and when they had filed in, his moustache twitched as he positively beamed at Harry and Blaise. Harry and Blaise frowned at one another, but took seats together next to Ron and Hermione. Cyrus, Nott, Ernie and Malfoy had to share a table. Cyrus made himself comfortable next to Malfoy and stared at him with doe eyes. Malfoy was looking uncomfortable. The Ravenclaws took a table together.
The dungeon was already full op strange smells – not necessarily bad smells, just ones that weren't normal. The students took turns to sniff the huge, boiling cauldrons. There were a few in the room and the smells mingled into something strange.
Harry and co had chosen the table closest to a gold-coloured cauldron that was giving off the most seductive scents that Harry had ever smelled: he smelled treacle tart, the smells of a broomstick handle and… and Daphne's perfume. Harry was flushing scarlet. His breath came slowly and very deeply – it was rather filling. Harry suddenly felt utterly content. He smiled at Ron and Blaise, both of whom were grinning like lazy cats.
"Now then, now then, now then," Slughorn said, his large frame was blurry through the multitude of vapours they were surrounded with, "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion Making..."
"Sir?" Harry raised his hand.
"Harry, m'boy?" Slughorn sounded very polite, or impressed.
"I haven't got a book or scales or anything - nor's Ron – we didn't realize we'd be able to do the NEWT, you see –"
"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention . . . not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scales, and we've got a small stock of old books here, they'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts…"
Slughorn made his way to a corner cupboard and, after a moment, came back with two ancient looking copies of Advantaged Potion-making by Libatius Borage, which, in turn, he gave to the two Gryffindor students.
Slughorn continued with the class. Hermione and Blaise took turns answering his questions and Hermione didn't seem to mind sharing the spotlight at all. Amortentia (now Harry understood why he'd smelled Daphne's perfume) and Polyjuice Potion were skated over, and Felix Felicis was held onto for last. Liquid Luck – and Harry really wanted to win it; he just had to. It could be dead useful in a fight against Voldemort, couldn't it? Yes, it could.
Harry just hoped his Potions prowess would leap from his mind, because it was harsh competition between the Gryffindor genius and the dark-skinned boy next to him. Harry turned to page ten in the school copy of his textbook and saw that it was a mess. Someone had scribbled almost everywhere, even between the instructions, and he had to squint to see the printed words.
He also saw Malfoy swiping his hand through his own textbook quickly. Harry understood that anyone could want an extraordinary day, but why was Malfoy so hasty?
The class scuttled around in their search for ingredients, and soon the class was filled with azure coloured fumes. Hermione was the furthest, as expected, because her potion already resembled the "smooth, black currant-coloured liquid" mentioned as the ideal halfway stage. Blaise added a drop of something dark purple and the same happened to him.
Harry thought to best to ignore them and set to chopping his roots, before bending low again over his book. That bean he had to cut – whoever owned the book first had made the note that more juice will be released if it crushed by a silver dagger. He borrowed Hermione's knife and did as the book's former owner instructed.
The bean threw up so much juice that Harry wondered how that tiny bean held all that juice! He poured it into the potion, and it turned the shade of lilac it had to.
Harry grinned – he was one step ahead of Hermione. She scowled at him when he explained what he'd done, but he just shrugged and kept following the written orders. Hermione kept demanding to know what he was doing, and he answered, but she argued with him. Blaise did his best to ignore their bickering.
When Slughorn announced that time was up, he was really pleased with how pale his potion was. His prowess had seemingly heard him and came to him in the form of a second-hand textbook. Bless that owner. He wanted to tell Daphne as soon as he could, but he had more important things to discuss with her and his friends.
Harry's grin when the moustached man handed him the small, golden bottle was so large, he was sure it would wrap around his head. Hermione didn't look happy, Ron looked confused, but Blaise looked impressed and made a mock bow towards Harry.
"Mr Potter, Mr Zabini, Mr Bishop and the lovely Miss Granger – may I have a brief word with you before you leave?" Slughorn asked. Harry saw Blaise roll his eyes, obviously annoyed, but the four of them stayed behind. Ron shot the seeker a questioning look, Harry just replied with a shrug.
"Now, I didn't get a chance to speak to the four of you on the train," Slughorn turned to them, folding his arms, "I understood that you took a compartment together?"
"Yes, sir," Cyrus replied, "It's customary for friends to take a compartment together on the long ride to school; it doesn't make sense to do it with your enemies." Harry wondered if Slughorn would pick up on the sarcastic tone.
Slughorn laughed good-naturedly, "I would like to invite you to a little meeting I have at the beginning of the year for a few select students. Would you care to join?" So no picking up on Cyrus' sarcasm? That was a pity.
Harry had no idea what was going on, but nodded his consent along with the others. Slughorn expressed his delight before dismissing them.
"Great – we're now part of the Slug Club, if he decides to keep us." Blaise said, his nose wrinkling at the last two words, "Slughorn always chooses students who are either famous, rich or has many connections, so he can get those connections. He's mostly harmless, looking for snacks and tickets to events, but it does get annoying."
"How do you know?" Hermione asked, her brow creased into a frown.
"My father had been a part of it." The dark-skinned boy answered, lifting his shoulders in a shrug.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, he thought when he left the classroom. Maybe he could turn Slughorn's plan on him and use the professor's connections…
. . .