THE ROAD NOT TAKEN
Chapter 4: Which one of you is called Malfoy.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to their respective owners.
September 8th 2001
Hogwarts
Harry slowly came to, feeling something soft under him. He opened his eyes and came face to face with none other than Albus Dumbledore himself.
"Where am I?" He asked.
"The hospital wing." The headmaster said. "An accident happened during your Potions class and you were knocked out."
"How did I get here then?"
"Professor Snape was kind enough to bring you to the hospital wing after the incident." Dumbledore answered. "How much do you remember of what happened before you passed out? Was it perhaps something about your scar?"
Harry had an idea of what had happened. It seems Snape had tried to read his mind but instead things had backfired and instead Harry had been the one to access Snape's memories. He wasn't sure what the Obliviate spell did but he could hazard a guess and given the story the man had told Dumbledore, then Harry was supposed to have forgotten what he had seen. Only he hadn't forgotten, and somehow he doubted that was normal.
"You suspect that it had something to do with my scar?" Harry asked instead. Deception and misdirection were two sides of a coin and Harry understood one just as much as he did the other. "I haven't felt any pain from my scar since Professor Quirrell's class."
Dumbledore latched onto that just like Harry had expected. "Are you sure, Mr. Potter?"
"Yes, Professor. I thought it weird that it would pain while I'm near him yet it hadn't all these years." He looked at the man with wide eyes. "Do you think he's doing something to me?"
"I very much doubt it, but if it happens again, come seek me out in my office." He said with a smile. "For the moment, you should wait for Poppy to discharge you, it seems whatever made you collapse wasn't as serious as we had initially believed."
And with that, the man left Harry to his thoughts. The spell that was supposed to wipe his memory had not worked, it probably had something to do with his peculiar physiology that made him different from other people, mundane or magical alike. Which made him all the more curious about his parents as he wanted to find out what made him different. What made him stronger and faster than anyone his age, how had he developed his tough skin, because the more he learned about magic the more he doubted it was anything normal. Accidental magic or not.
All the answers he was seeking lay in his parents. How different had they been, what kind of people had they been and how similar were they to him, physically or mentally. He had already seen Lily, his mother use his misdirection magic in Snape's memories and yet that had just brought up even more questions. To find these answers, he would have to find someone who had been close to them, someone they had trusted enough to divulge their deepest secrets as Harry doubted he would share his own with just anyone.
For that he would have to talk to the right people if he were to determine his parent's confidants. He knew from Snape's memory that his father had been friends with the gray eyed boy, Black, but so far no one had mentioned anyone called Black when discussing his parents. He was going to have to dig for answers himself, and he wouldn't get them by staying in a bed in the Hospital wing. And with that thought, he got out of bed and put on his robe before quietly slipping out of the hospital wing.
He went straight to the kitchens. The house elves were now used to him by now and the moment they saw him arrive, they all got excited and within seconds, he had enough food for a small feast before him. And feast he did, as he considered the things he had seen in Snape's head. Snape believed that Voldemort was still alive, and that Quirrell was working for him to steal what was being kept on the third floor. Harry may have missed Dumbledore's speech at the welcome feast but he had heard of it as students kept wondering about it.
Now he knew something valuable was being kept there, but he didn't know the details as it had just been a fleeting thought in Snape's head and Harry had been digging around for glimpses of his mom. Besides, he didn't care much about it as it wasn't really his business despite Voldemort being involved. Harry wasn't planning on sticking around in the magical world until Voldemort inevitably came back from the dead. He was hopeful that by then he would have accomplished what had brought him in the magical world.
Completing his meal about an hour later, Harry trudged his way towards Gryffindor tower. He hadn't been knocked out for long as when he left the hospital wing, lunch had just ended and those who had lessons in the afternoon were going to their classes. Most of the first years were in the common room and none of the spared him a second look as he went to their dorm. Only Neville was there.
"Harry!" The boy exclaimed on seeing him. "Are you okay? I thought something might have happened to you and I was so worried _"
"I'm fine, Neville. But I appreciate the concern."
"What happened?" He asked. "One moment we were brewing the potion and then Snape scared me and you dropped the quills. You vanished the potion...how do you even know the vanishing charm already?"
"The what?" Harry asked in confusion and Neville blinked at him, just as confused.
"The spell you used to make the potion disappear is called the Vanishing charm." When there was no sign of recognition from Harry, Neville shook his head. "How could you cast a spell when you don't even know about it."
"Probably because I didn't use a spell." Harry shrugged as he picked the letter on his bed. "I wanted the volatile potion to disappear and so I unleashed my magic and made it disappear."
"Just like that?" He asked dubiously.
"Yeah, just like that." Harry replied as he read the letter. McGonagall couldn't meet him today but she had proposed tomorrow afternoon, which meant he was free to visit Hagrid. "I'm going to visit Hagrid, do you wish to come?"
"Why do you want to visit him?"
"He invited me for tea and it's not like I have much to do right now." Harry shrugged. "So are you coming, or not?"
"Sure." Neville was a very shy boy and rarely spoke with anyone apart from Harry, it was not like he had any other plans for that afternoon apart from laying on his bed or doing homework.
He got off the bed and followed the tall boy out of the dormitory. And just like always, no one paid them any attention. Given that he was usually around Harry when not in class, Neville had noticed that people seemed to actively try not to look at Harry. It didn't make any sense given how famous the other boy was.
They walked together as they walked towards the entrance hall. They didn't meet many people in the hallways but those they did meet didn't even spare then a second glance.
At five to three, they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A big crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door. When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang - back."
Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.
"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang!"
He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.
"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Harry and started licking his ears and the boy started petting the dog behind the ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked. Neville thought otherwise as he hid behind Harry, trying to keep the giant dog as far away from him as possible.
"This is Neville Longbottom." Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.
"Frank and Alice's boy, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Neville. "You don't look much different from Frank when he came at Hogwarts. Though he was much fatter than you."
"I find that very hard to believe." Neville mumbled, momentarily forgetting his fear for the dog.
"You would be surprised at how much the lot of them changed." Hagrid laughed. "Not James though, he was the same person until the very end."
Hagrid mumbled the last part nervously glancing at Harry like he didn't want to offend him by reminding him for his father's death.
"You wouldn't happen to have a photo of them, would you?" Harry asked smoothly, and Hagrid's eyes lit up at the change in the subject.
"Actually I have some." Hagrid said as he placed a plate of cakes before them. "Let me just check over here."
While Hagrid rummaged through his things, Harry and Neville decided to have a taste at the cakes. The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, well, Harry's were sturdy enough that he didn't need to worry, Neville however was another thing and they both pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons while he searched for the photo. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.
"Ah, here it is!" Hagrid exclaimed as he brought the photo for them to see. "I might've cried on it that night but it should be clear enough."
Hagrid brought the photo to the table and the two boys leaned forward to see. Sure enough, there were some tear marks but that was fine because the photo was as clear as if it was only taken yesterday. There were seven boys in the photo, all wearing Gryffindor colors on their robes. But two stood out most to the Harry and Neville. One was a tall boy, well not by much but he stood a couple of inches above all the others and he had a large grin on his face. His hair was all over the place, just like Harry's and his hazel eyes were twinkling behind his glasses as he was sandwiched in a tight hug between two other boys. This was most certainly James Potter.
One of the boys hugging James was the second one to stand out. He was without a doubt a perfect copy of Neville, the only difference being that the other boy was tall, almost as tall as James and he looked more confident and certainly happier than Nevile usually was. But apart from that, one could have easily mistaken him for Neville.
"Wow." Neville breathed, his voice a mixture of relief, sadness and happiness. "I... I never could've imagined..."
"You mean to tell me that you've never seen your father as a kid?" Hagrid asked in disbelief.
"No, Gran doesn't have any." Neville shook his head. "She never talks about his younger years."
"This is the first time I'm seeing my father as well." Harry said softly, looking away from the photo. "I barely know anything about either of my parents."
"Well, that won't do at all." Hagrid looked offended by the mere idea. And so he started talking, and the two boys listened.
By the time the time they left Hagrid's hut, it was already dark outside and dinner must have already started. The two boys had been given alot to think about, Neville had seen a different side of his parents from what his grandmother had led him believe. He had found out that his parents had not been perfect, they had been human just like him and turning into the people they were, people who stood with Dumbledore against Voldemort had not happened overnight. He still had a long way to go, but he was sure he could be just like them if not better.
Harry too was thinking. He had gotten a glimpse of the person his father had been and he couldn't wait to find out more. He had listened to Hagrid and he he had picked up things others wouldn't, things that led to even more questions. Hopefully his meeting with McGonagall would answer some of those questions. Like what happened to James' three friends after his death, why no one spoke of the gray eyed boy, Black, who his father had been closest to. Hagrid had been very careful to avoid speaking of Black in particular and Harry couldn't help but wonder why.
They had almost reached the castle when Harry broke the silence. "What happened to your parents, Neville?"
The two kept walking in silence as Neville pondered how to answer the question. It wasn't until they reached the double doors of the Great hall that he spoke again. "I lost them on the same day that you lost yours."
Harry followed after the boy as he pondered his words. He could tell there was something else, but he just couldn't tell what.
The next day, Harry arrived for his meeting with McGonagall right on time. She welcomed him and set the cups of tea on the table before she sat opposite him.
"How have you found Hogwarts so far, Mr. Potter?" She asked the moment she sat down.
"It is...quite an experience to tell the truth." Harry said carefully. "Nothing like muggle school, that's for certain."
McGonagall chuckled, something he was sure she would never do in public. "I can imagine it is. You seem to have fit in well compared to others who just joined."
Harry knew she was talking about Hermione Granger. The girl didn't seem to have any friends, everyone she tried to talk to either spurned her or mocked her for her bossiness and generally annoying behavior. This had the effect of thinking they didn't understand her and she tried again to get their attention only to push them further away. Harry had been observing her and ge could see that she was beginning to despair as she realized that wasn't going to be making any friends here, just like she had in the muggle world.
And while he felt bad for her, he just couldn't bring himself to care. It wasn't his business, and he wasn't about to make it so, he already had enough he was dealing with.
"I'm sure they'll fit in with time." He finally said. "The only reason I appear to have fit in is because I keep to myself and I prefer it that way."
"It can't hurt to make many friends you know, it can actually be pretty useful once you leave Hogwarts." She said. "Your father for example was one of the most popular students during his time here."
"Actually, I would like to talk about my mother." Harry said. "Yesterday, I spoke to Hagrid and he told me quite a bit about James but not much about Lily."
"Alright, I may not have been as close to Lily as I was with James but I did know her pretty well too." She told him. "So what is it you want to know."
"Anything, really." Harry replied. "Other than her name and that we have the same eyes, I know absolutely nothing about her. I don't even know how she looks like. Petunia doesn't have any photo of her and if she did, she never showed me."
McGonagall looked like she wanted to come over and hug him, but instead she stood up and went to the fireplace. She threw in some powder and the flames turned green before she stuck her face into the fire. She stayed there for a few seconds before coming out. Taking her seat again, she sighed.
"I was hoping for another way to show you your mother but Albus isn't in his office, maybe the next time we meet, I can show you." Before Harry could ask for clarification, she continued. "For now, you'll just have to settle for my words."
Harry nodded, and so she started talking. Lily was extremely intelligent and worked hard at her education. She strived to be the best person she could ever be and always searched for ways she could be better. She was a very determined person. Lily also possessed an uncommon kindness seeing the good in everyone. She was never unappreciative, and tried to be optimistic in all situations. Her sweet personality and smarts were probably her most notable traits which had been a core factor in why many people had decided to join the fight against Voldemort.
Lily loved to read as her favorite pass-time and McGonagall was sure that she would have been a perfect fit for all four houses because practically embodied their character traits. But her courage was something out of this world and combined with her sharp mind, she had been someone not many people dared to cross. When people ruin things she would blow up on them, but never curses. She was capable of getting angry and when she did, you did not want to cross her path, albeit she rarely did. She mostly saved all of her yelling for James Potter as he seemed to have been capable of angering her in ways that no one could.
One thing McGonagall knew that had made Lily have a special place in her heart was that if Lily cared for someone, she loved them with all her heart. She would have done anything in her power to protect them, and there wasn't a single person in this world that Lily had loved more than she did Harry. For him, she could have gone to hell and back and McGonagall was sure that Lily was very proud of who her son was turning out to be.
"What about her friends?" Harry asked once she was done.
"Well, Lily was pretty popular herself. She was friendly to nearly everyone, even students from other houses." Harry knew she was talking about Snape. "But I think there were two students she was closest to. One was Alice Fortescue who later became Alice Longbottom."
"Neville's mother?" Harry asked in surprise. It seems he and Neville could have been real close had things not turned out like they had.
"The very same. Infact they were the other's maid of honor on their respective weddings." McGonagall said, her smile happy and sad at the same time. "Anyway, the second one was Mary Macdonald, she and the other two were thick as thieves. I can only imagine what their friendship would have grown into had things gone differently."
"What happened to them, all my parents' friends?" Harry asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. "Where did they all go after their death?"
McGonagall looked at him sadly. "That night changed alot of people's lives. Everyone close to James and Lily was affected deeply, and on Halloween, while everyone is celebrating the death of Voldemort, all I can think of are the lives that were destroyed on that day."
She wiped tears Harry hadn't even noticed.
"Alice, Frank, Remus, Peter, Sirius, Mary and all the others never recovered from that night." She continued once she had collected herself. "And sometimes I wonder if any of us did."
The conversation from there turned to less painful areas. They discussed Harry's classes and how he found Hogwarts until it was almost time for dinner. The professor said she would tell him once she was ready to show him the memories and with that he left. As Harry silently walked to the Great hall, he thought back on the conversation. The questions kept pilling, and while Harry was starting to understand the kind if people his parents were, he was no closer to his goal. Instead, he had more things to find out, like what had happened to his parents' closest friends. He now had their names.
Alice Longbottom and Mary Macdonald for his mother and Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black for his father. Just like Hagrid, the professor had avoided discussing James' friends when he had brought them up, especially Sirius Black and yet from what he had gathered, Black had been closest to James. And then there was a question of Neville's parents, everyone talked of them as if implying that they were dead though they didn't state it like they did with Lily and James which made Harry think that something else altogether had happened.
But he was making progress, that is what mattered the most.
By next week, Harry had created for himself a routine. He woke up early, went to class for the first period, ate his lunch in the kitchens, then went to the dormitories for a nap or the library depending on his mood before going to the Great hall for Dinner and back to the dorms for sleep. He rarely spoke to anyone, the teachers in class, Neville when he was seated with him and Tracey during Trasfiguration.
The rest of the time, he kept to himself and just like in muggle school he effectively became a ghost. Neville was the only one who spared any thoughts to him as he woke him up every morning at his usual time, just like today.
"Harry, we have flying lessons today."
"What?" Harry asked groggily. "They teach people how to fly?"
"On brooms, Harry." Neville rolled his eyes. "You can't tell me you didn't know about broomsticks."
"I thought they were for sweeping."
Neville gave him a flat stare. "And quidditch?"
"I know it's a magical sport but I just didn't give it much thought to find out any details." He shrugged. "All I know is that it's pretty popular and my father was very good at it."
Neville couldn't believe that there was someone worse than him at quidditch. He however explained what little he knew about the game though clearly he didn't do a good enough job as by the time he was done, Harry had already gone back to sleep. Shaking his head, he woke up the other boy again before leaving to go for breakfast and prepare for DADA lesson in the morning.
By the time Harry left the kitchens and arrived on the grounds, the rest of the students were already there. He had a headache thanks to his scar, courtesy of Quirrell and he was far from being in a good mood. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under his feet as he walked down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance
Their teacher, Harry didn't know her name, had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk. He wondered if that was normal or she had done it to herself. Perhaps it had been some kind of mishap while casting magic.
Harry found an empty spot and glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," the teacher called at the front, "and say 'Up!'"
Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.
Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. The white haired boy, it turned out had been holding his wrong for years, a discovery which seemed to amuse the rest of the Gryffindors to no end.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two-"
But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and -
WHAM - a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.
Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.
"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get."
She turned to the rest of the class.
"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch. ' Come on, dear."
While the teacher went with Neville, Harry was studying his broom. It didn't seem safe at all, even the magic in it felt wrong, like it could break apart the moment he tried mounting it. Shaking his head, Harry turned around to return to the castle, his headache had not subsided and he was not going to stand here under the sun any longer than was necessary.
"Harry do something!" He paused and turned to see Weasley and all the Gryffindors looking at him expectantly.
"What?"
"Malfoy has Neville's Remembrall and he won't give it back!" Weasley exclaimed.
Harry frowned, he remembered hearing the name though he wasn't sure who it belonged to. He turned to look at the Slytherins as he was sure this 'Malfoy' was one of them.
"Which one of you is Malfoy?" He asked softly and got mixed reactions from his question. Amusement from the Gryffindors and some Slytherins, Tracey actually snorted and received a glare from her blonde friend and a whack on the head. A few of the Slytherins looked offended, but none more than the white haired boy. It seemed he had gotten his answer.
"How dare_"
"Give me the ball." Harry cut him off just as he started his rant and the boy sneered at him.
"If you want it, you're going to have to catch me first." Malfoy jumped onto his broom and shot into the sky.
The other boy may have been fast but Harry had abnormal reflexes. The moment Malfoy made to jump of his broom, Harry summoned his wand from its holster. He had barely gotten seven feet off the ground when a white bolt of magic flew from Harry's wand and hit him square in the back. At first it seemed like there was no effect, but then the broom and the ball fell down while Draco started floating. In the ensuing silence, Harry walked over and picked the ball before he turned and headed back to the castle.
He didn't even look back as a mild wind picked up and Draco was slowly carried towards the forbidden forest as he screamed in panic.
Having returned the ball to Neville in the hospital wing, and getting a headache potion himself, Harry laid down on one of the beds and decided to take a nap. He wasn't sure how long he had been asleep but when he woke up, Professor McGonagall was standing over his bed and she did not look happy.
"Mr. Potter, come with me to the headmaster's office." She stated sternly.
Harry blinked, before he got off the bed, all the while wondering what the problem was. They walked in silence with Harry trailing behind his head of house and it wasn't until they reached the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office that he finally spoke.
"What is this about, professor?"
The professor gave the password and they ascended the stairs. Before she opened the door, she looked at him. "It's about Mr. Malfoy."
And then she opened the door. Snape who was already inside jumped to his feet. "What is the brat still doing here? I thought he was expelled long ago!"
"Calm down Severus, Mr. Potter is here to give us his side of the story." Dumbledore said, before turning to Harry. "Tell me, my boy. What happened between you and Mr. Malfoy?"
"Malfoy...Malfoy..." Harry mumbled as he tried to place the name before it hit him. "Oh, Malfoy is the whinny boy with white hair, right?"
Snape exploded at that, demanding for his immediate expulsion and calling him arrogant, stupid and a good for nothing brat just like his father. Now Harry didn't care what people thought of him, and any abuse towards him entered through one ear and got out through the other. He was therefore surprised when he felt a flare of anger when Snape badmouthed his father, and he was just about to say something to the man when the floo flared green and someone stepped out.
Harry knew without a doubt that this was Malfoy's father. The man looked around the office and then his eyes landed on Harry. He swiftly placed his hand on top of his cane and pulled out a wand which he pointed straight at Harry with a furious look on his face. Harry had his own wand out in an instant, ready to protect himself even if he didn't know what he could do against an adult wizard.
But he needn't have worried because McGonagall had reacted just as swiftly and had placed herself in front of Harry protectively. "Give me one reason, Lucius. Just one single reason is enough for me to do what I should have done long ago."
Harry felt a rush of warmth in his chest at her actions, something he never realized that he was capable of feeling. Whatever happened in the future, Harry would always feel grateful for his Head of house for that single action.
AN: For those of you who haven't noticed, Harry is a selfish and apathetic bastard. His years of living in the shadows have turned him into someone who doesn't care for anything other than himself. He is someone who can watch another person being killed without batting an eye so long as it did not directly affect him.
He doesn't care what happens around him unless it directly affects him. That is the kind of person we are dealing with.