Chapter 14
When Harry woke up, he was in a boat.
Not that he realized that at first, dizzy and disoriented as he felt. Harry barely could remember his real name when he woke up, much less his fake one, and he didn't remember to ever have left his cupboard so for all he knew he was still there —the darkness surrounding him and his crumpled position over a hard, cold surface seemed to confirm so. There was an incongruent feeling of power inside him, a weird tingling all over his body that urged him to blow up the cupboard and break free, but it was hardly the first time he fantasized with power so he assumed it was just a residual feeling from some really cool dream he had been having.
Harry didn't remember magic, so of course he couldn't even begin to imagine where he was.
Then he became aware of the huge man looming over him in the darkness, and everything came crashing back to him at once, all his nightmarish memories of the last month hitting his mind like a freight train loaded with horrors and terrors.
He jumped to his feet so fast that he was engulfed by a wave of dizziness before his body finished straightening up, and swayed dangerously in place while he willed the sudden vertigo to subside and his groggy mind to clear. He couldn't afford to black out again, he must stay awake and get back on his feet, to be ready to fight or run-
The giant swore mere feet from him, and Harry recoiled when he felt something brushing his arm.
"Don't touch me!" he snarled, although his own voice sounded so distant that he couldn't be sure if he had managed to yell or just whisper.
"Whoa, easy there, lad, no need to get upset. I just don't want you to fall over. Might be better if you sat down..."
The raspy voice also seemed to come from far away, but Harry could see the monstrous man right above him, his massive hands just inches away, and that proximity somehow made the distant voice sound more dangerous. Harry was still dizzy and disoriented, but he knew that not letting anyone get a hold on him was a number one priority so he strived to do just that, stumbling backwards to put himself out of reach just as the giant made to grab him again. His legs immediately hit something hard blocking his retreat, though, and his stomach lurched in panic when he felt himself falling backwards and his arms flailed helplessly around finding nothing but air to grasp. To make things worse, the very ground he was standing on suddenly seemed to rise and shake, completely messing up what remained of his balance and making him realize at last that he was on a boat with water all around.
A hand closed around his upper arm before he could fall over, pulling him back onto the relatively firm —if still wobbling— surface of the boat and bringing him into closer proximity with the hairy giant.
"Don't-" Harry pulled back and struggled to shake off the hand that had grabbed him, even though part of him wanted to cling to that source of stability for dear life, but the giant was like a hundred times stronger than Uncle Vernon, and he felt so weak in every way...
"I'll let go of your arm if you sit down," said the huge man, who sounded worried and anxious. "Sit down and keep calm, all right? We're almost there."
Harry refused to sit down, and far from calming down he grew more agitated each second that he felt the giant's grip on his arm. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest, his increasingly shallow breathing, his exhausted magic groaning inside him like a car that didn't want to start, the lump in his throat barely keeping his anguish from exploding out of him-
"All right, all right," said the giant suddenly, carefully releasing his arm and lifting both his massive hands in a gesture of surrender. "No touch, that better?"
It was better. Harry felt his anguish and panic instantly beginning to recede, even though it still made him anxious to be standing so close to the big, smelly man. He could breathe deeper each time, and the world was spinning a little slower, the knot in his stomach loosening a bit...
"Just try to stay calm," continued the giant in a soothing tone, as if he were talking to a frightened animal. "We don't want you to pass out again, and we don't want the boat to sink either, so let's not give your magic reason to go all crazy, all right?"
Harry would like nothing more than to go 'all crazy' with his magic again, but tired and drained as he felt he was certain that he would not be able to fight half as hard nor last half as long as the previous time —not that his full power had done him any good the previous time—, and he knew that he couldn't afford to collapse again. It also didn't seem like a good idea to set on fire the boat that was currently keeping him from drowning —although it might be worth the risk if the giant was likely to drown as well. Harry didn't know how to swim, but he figured it couldn't be so hard, especially having magic to help himself float or surf, while the giant looked way too heavy to stay afloat-
"Don't even think about jumping," growled the hairy brute, looking as if he were half-considering to grab him again. "The giant squid would just fish you out and put you back on the boat, and then you'd be all wet."
Giant squid? Was that some sort of octopus, like the ones he had seen at the Zoo, but bigger? Maybe a magical kraken controlled by the giant? Harry glanced at the dark waters surrounding him with apprehension, but he couldn't see anything moving under the surface. He did catch sight of something moving over the surface some distance away, though, and craning his neck a bit to see past the bulky giant he saw that there were other boats following them. Boats carrying students, he realized, remembering what the angry prefect named Grant had said after resurrecting the blond boy.
Harry swayed again when a wave of nausea hit him along with the memories. The giant made a movement as if to catch him, but seemed to think better of it when Harry raised a sparkling hand and dared him with his eyes to put his fat fingers anywhere near him. He would set this bloody boat aflame and take his chances with the giant octopus if the man tried to touch him again.
"Right, no touching," grumbled the brute pulling back his hands —which showed signs of burning, noticed Harry, pleased to see that he at least had managed to cause some damage. "You might wanna sit down, though. And turn around. There's nothing like Hogwarts at night, and you're missing your first sight of it."
It went against his every instinct to turn his back on such a close threat, but Harry knew that the giant didn't really mean him harm —he was just stubbornly determined to deliver him to the school— so he finally took the risk of turning around to see where they were going...
His mouth dropped open.
Perched atop a high mountain right ahead of them, was a huge castle. A proper castle, with towers, and turrets, and battlements, sparkling in the starry sky as if it belonged to a fairy tale rather than the real world. There was something so obviously magical about it, and also some sort of... awareness. Harry could feel it, just like he had felt it in the bully's wand, and just like the wand it felt ambiguous, the subtle power drawing him in even as it warned him off, intimidating and welcoming at the same time.
While the wand had been just a stick easy to break, though, Harry got the sense that this castle would fight back if someone tried to mess with it. He also got the sense that he would be safe inside, hidden, protected from the dangers of the outside world.
Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. His chest ached. Hogwarts was a safe haven, he realized, a refuge for freaks like him, but after everything he had done he would no longer be welcomed. Even if the castle let him in, the people inside it wouldn't, not once they realized who he was and how many people he had hurt. Maybe if Harry had managed to kill the blond boy —or more exactly if the blond boy had stayed dead— he could have played this out somehow, but as it was... He might be able to keep Neville quiet, but the blond and his minions were all out of his reach now, probably already in the castle being interrogated by teachers, completely out of his control. Harry had no doubt that as soon as he recovered enough to speak the prat was going to spill everything, and then Evan Roberts would either not be allowed to stay in Hogwarts or would not be safe there, since apparently there was at least one teacher —someone called Snape— who was friends with the bully's father and who by the sound of it would kill on command like a proper minion. If they discovered as well that Evan Roberts was actually Harry Potter —and they would make the connection easily, since like an idiot Harry had told the blond that he had murdered his uncle—, a homeless criminal with no family, no resources, no important name nor anyone who gave a damn about him... He would be dead before morning, like the bully had said.
He didn't realize when he had sat down, but suddenly Harry was sitting on the front bench of the little boat. The giant probably thought he had surrendered at last and was enjoying the view, but Harry couldn't really see the castle right now, occupied as he was trying to rein in a panic attack. He was feeling physically and magically stronger by the moment, but for once having magic didn't make him feel any less helpless, seeing that he was trapped in a boat with a magic-resistant brute and a giant octopus possibly stalking the waters around him. He knew that the hairy man wasn't completely immune to his power, but if Harry hadn't managed to kill him with that last blow he had landed before passing out then it was pointless to keep fighting him directly. The giant was also resistant to his mind control, so he couldn't get rid of him that way either, and it was plain that he didn't intend to let him out of his sight until he had handed over the responsibility to someone else. Someone more powerful, in all likelihood, not to mention smarter than this stupid oaf who didn't even seem capable of turning on a light without a switch. Hermione had said that the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, was the greatest wizard of modern times, famous for having defeated some evil dark wizard during World War Two, and he was up there in the castle, waiting to lock Harry up in some magical cell as soon as he realized how dangerous he was...
Harry closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep, slow breath. Get a grip on yourself, freak, you can't afford to lose it. He had to keep the panic at bay, calm down and think, else he would not stand a chance.
His calm was a hundred per cent artificial, but when Harry opened his eyes he felt completely focused. The first thing he tried was to take control of the boat, which was clearly being towed by magic seeing that it had no oars, engine or sails. He knew that he couldn't beat the giant in a fight, but he might be able to push him off the boat somehow and then propel himself away faster than the brute could swim —if he could swim. With any luck the octopus would not bother him if he remained on the boat, and he would have a better head start once he reached the shore.
It was a good plan, but he had to discard it when it became evident that he couldn't slow down nor redirect the boat with his magic. The force pulling it was just too strong, and when Harry tried to oppose the force directly he realized that it wasn't the giant controlling it, but someone —or something— ahead. It didn't seem wise to antagonize a magical castle trying to steal one of its boats, and he didn't think he could break the pull anyway, so Harry gave up on that plan and moved on to his next idea, which was more risky but also potentially more effective.
Clutching his rucksack in the darkness, and surreptitiously repositioning himself on the bench so as to be ready to lunch himself upwards if he ended up accidentally jumping instead of teleporting, Harry focused his eyes on the spot of shore he wanted to reach and called on his exhausted magic to bring himself there. He had no idea how to do it, but he figured the most important thing must be to make sure all of him travelled at the same time and in the same direction, so after some internal wavering he sort of wrapped his entire Self with his magic and, using his fear as motivation, willed himself to be where he wanted to be...
... and felt his Will collide against an imaginary wall. Harry opened his eyes and turned to glare at the castle, knowing in his gut that It was responsible for his failure. That bloody thing was blocking him, somehow, interfering with his magic or with the air around him so he couldn't teleport. Stupid castle.
Being thwarted by a pile of rubble made him angry, but that was all for the better. Anger was a much more useful emotion than fear, and Harry could really use it right now, both to keep his panic at bay and to attempt the next thing on his mental list of strategies. Anger made possible and even easy to ignore the intimidating facade of the rapidly approaching castle and focus instead on what lay beyond those impregnable walls, reaching out blindly with his deepest magic in search of distant wills to subjugate. Harry had never tried to control someone remotely, but he sometimes felt a lingering sense of power even after losing sight of the people he controlled so he suspected it might be possible. And now would be a good time to confirm it. If he could just find the blond bully, get him under his control, order him to keep his stupid mouth shut or jump off a window at the first opportunity...
To Harry's frustration, though, reaching for someone when he didn't even know where exactly his target was located was like fumbling in the darkness trying to catch a shadow. Closing his eyes again, he concentrated instead on his own magic, trying to bring to the surface that lingering sense of control he had felt on occasion, searching for those subtle lines of unapologetic power that had once connected him to his puppets, tying their wills to him, inviting him to pull their strings and use them in whatever way he-
Harry came to a halt within himself when one of the abstract lines he pulled at responded with a wave of solicitous anticipation.
There you are.
The power line he had managed to grab hold on connected him with something situated somewhere inside the castle ahead, he could tell, so it must be one of the minions. Figuring the other minion couldn't be far, he groped around in its immediate proximity until he found another line, just as tight, that also returned to him a sense of expectation, as if waiting for further instructions.
Harry could have whooped. He would have preferred to grab hold of the blond boy, but the minions were good enough. It was something, at least, a trump card he could play with, two well-placed tools at his command. He knew that the teachers must be keeping them away from their friend, in case they tried to kill him again, but it was a relief to know they were still under his control, that they at least had kept their mouths shut and would stick to the story he had supplied.
It was only a minor success, but Harry felt exhilarated. And hopeful. His confidence boosted tenfold, he smirked smugly at the sparkling castle, which for all its fortifications didn't seem to have noticed the infiltration. The damned building might be powerful, but it had been unable to interfere with Harry's controlling magic. In fact...
Reaching again for that sweet source of power deep inside him, Harry swirled it around a little to get a good grip and then projected a sliver of it towards the castle, lunging at the imaginary wall he had felt before.
The boat gave a sudden, violent jolt. Harry heard screams coming from behind, and then the giant shouting a command to stop, which immediately brought the entire fleet to a halt. It would have probably been the perfect opportunity to jump off the boat and swim —or try to swim— away, but Harry completely rejected the idea when, glancing back, he saw a giant tentacle emerge from the water carrying a firmly wrapped student that looked tiny compared with the huge appendage.
Damn, that's one big octopus.
It was chaos. Everyone was screaming. Three more students jumped off their boat in terror when the monstrous creature deposited its catch amongst them, and were subsequently fished out by additional tentacles. The giant kept yelling at everyone to stay calm, repeating over and over again that the squid was a friend trying to help, assuring them that everything was fine. It helped when the octopus reemerged some distance away, as if to show them that it was no longer close enough to threaten them —even though Harry was certain that it could close that distance in a blink—, and then after some manoeuvring the boat carrying wet students was brought to their same level so the giant could check on them.
As he watched the brute fuss over the terrified kids, insisting in wrapping them all in his giant coat despite their embarrassed complaints, Harry resisted the urge to laugh. Perhaps he should feel guilty, but there was clearly something wrong with him because all he could feel was triumph at the knowledge that he had caused all this trouble. He could almost feel the castle scowling at him, and even though he probably shouldn't provoke it further after having received such clear warning he couldn't help smirking at it again. Perhaps you should just let me teleport, he sneered mentally, impressing a threatening edge to his thoughts.
All right, perhaps Harry had cracked up, seeing that he was talking to buildings now in addition to snakes, but at this point he couldn't care much about his sanity. It didn't make any difference to him if he was crazy, everything still felt the same, living buildings still were a real possibility inside his mind. It didn't matter to him either that the castle hadn't replied. As far as he was concerned, the thing had already manifested itself shaking the boats, and the reaction had let Harry know that the castle could be fought on a magical level.
He wasn't going to risk another collapse fighting a giant building, though, not if he could help it. He needed to save his strength to fight the people inside the castle, if it came to that, or to run away if he could.
"What a day, uh?" grunted the big brute when the fleet began to move again at his command. It seemed like the boats belonged to the castle but they responded to the giant's voice. "Never had a start of term half as stressful as this one."
Harry ignored him. He was trying to teleport again, on the odd chance that the castle had heard his mental threat and decided it was better for everyone to just let him go. No such luck, he grumbled to himself a moment later, having verified that the invisible wall was still standing on his imaginary way, blocking him.
"We don't get Metamorphmagi every year either," kept talking the giant. "Last one was that Tonks girl from Hufflepuff. Might be you're related?"
Harry could swear that the castle was towing the boats slower now, to inflict on him the brute's conversation as punishment for the assault on its abstract wall. Hissing in annoyance, he gave up on teleporting and focused on his minions instead, scrutinizing their power lines from multiple angles in an attempt to discern what they were doing or what was happening around them. So far the only feedback he had received from them was their willingness to obey, and he couldn't use them effectively with that alone. He needed information. Context.
"I thought you had burned your hair, at first, but then Neville told me what you are. That girl friend of yours got quite a surprize, to put it mildly." The giant let out a low chuckle. Harry's heart skipped a beat at the realization that he wasn't maintaining any magic on his hair, which meant that it must have reverted to black. "So, what's your real colour? I never was quite sure about that girl Tonks. She favoured pink, but that couldn't be her real hair, could it?"
The giant had his full attention now. Harry hadn't spared much thought to what might have happened while he was unconscious, but suddenly he was panicking at the possibility that someone might have seen his scar, put it together with his black hair, and realized that he was actually Harry Potter, the infamous Boy-Who-Had-Murdered-His-Uncle. Did the giant know? Surely not, else he wouldn't sound so friendly, but he definitely knew that Harry could change his appearance and that he had gone through several hair colours in the last few hours. Apparently Neville —that traitor— had told him that he was a... what was the word? Metamorphomagus?
Harry's brain went into overdrive as he quickly considered all the implications of this development. The blond bully had also seemed to think that being able to change one's hair was a special ability rather than a simple magic trick, and he had said that the trait ran in the families. Did this mean that at least one of Harry's parents had been a freak like him? Could he truly be related to other magical people? Not that Harry would want to be related to that blond prick, but the idea of having more relatives out there, some sort of family that might accept him for what he was... A family that would have magic to use against me, he thought dryly. Yeah, that would be great.
It didn't seem as if his hair skill drove anyone to suspect he might be Harry Potter, though. Could the blond bully be right to suspect he might be someone else's son? Was Potter not his real last name? Could his father be that man the boy had mentioned, Evan Rosier? Could he...? No. It had sounded as if he had died in some war (which war?), so better not get his hopes up. And it actually might be more convenient if the man was dead, since that way he couldn't deny Harry was his son.
"So... is that Hufflepuff girl your cousin or something?" pressed the giant. "I thought you might be related to the Weasleys, because of the red hair, but the Weasleys are not shapeshifters as far as I know, and if your hair is not really red..."
Weasleys. Would that be the red-haired family? And what was that about huffling puffs? Some things that these people said made absolutely no sense. Harry had spent the entire day being confused by weird or incongruous words inserted in the middle of otherwise normal conversations. Words like griffin doors, or raven claws, or slithering houses. Hermione had said something about it, but he had gotten the impression that it was something Hogwarts-related so he had cut her off, now wanting to know anything that might make harder to stick to his decision of not going.
Now he wished he had let her prattle, since by the way everyone mentioned those code words it sounded like something important.
Harry shook his head to himself and focused again on the hair issue.
"We might be related, or not," he said with a nonchalant shrug, privately wondering if he might indeed have a cousin who went around with pink hair. "I know I'm related to the Malfoys and the Blacks. And my father is Evan Rosier, so anyone else related to him is related to me, I guess."
There was a moment of silence, and then,
"Rosier? Evan Rosier?" the giant spat the name as if it were a bad word, all friendliness gone from his rough voice. "I thought your last name was Roberts?"
Sensing the sudden hostility, Harry turned around to look at the giant, tensing further when he noticed that the huge face, which so far had displayed mostly worry and anxiety, was now a palimpsest of horror, revulsion and mistrust. The hairy man seemed disgusted at the very sight of him, and Harry could tell he was regretting not to have let him run away.
"My last name doesn't matter," he said coldly, "only my blood. You wanted to know whom I inherited the trait from, so I told you. I don't have my father's last name because I'm a bastard, but that doesn't change who I am."
If only he had thought to say something like this earlier in the forest. The giant had not seemed bothered by the fact that Harry had tried to kill him in the most painful ways he could think of, but hearing him now claim to be the bastard son of one such Evan Rosier apparently was enough to make him wish Harry would fall off the boat and drown before the kraken could fish him out.
"My real hair colour is light brown, by the way," added Harry, focusing on changing his hair and eyebrows as he spoke. "It only turns black when perverts like you try to touch me."
Correction: if only he had thought to say something like this. The giant's eyes widened almost comically at his words, the disgust in them instantly turning to uneasiness, and Harry knew at once that the fear of a scandal for touching little boys could be used against him. Maybe the man already had a record?
"That's right, I know your sort," said Harry with disgust, "and if you bother me again I will tell everyone what you did. All that time you had me all by yourself in that forest, unconscious, and then here in this boat, alone. All the times you grabbed me-"
"That's not- You know nothing like- like that that happened," spluttered the giant, rearranging his features in an angry scowl but sounding more panicked by the second. "I was just trying to help-"
"I saw you searching those two boys too," said Harry in a suggestive tone. "You volunteered to do it, and you touched them everywhere. They were too scared to stop you, and you took advantage-"
"I didn't! I would never-"
"You thought because they were murderers no one would care what you did to them?" accused Harry, getting genuinely angry despite not really believing the giant was a pervert. Because he knew no one would care what anyone did to him —no one ever had— and that general indifference of people enraged him. It also made him angry to know that all those bullies had people who gave a damn about them. Families. Mothers and fathers who would get enraged in their behalves if some brute groped them at school, while the only family Harry had known would have mocked him and punished him for it. "I bet their parents will care, though. And the Headmaster too."
The giant looked positively alarmed. Harry sneered at him.
"The other boys won't say anything if I tell them not to," he assured him. "And as far as I'm concerned everything that happened in the woods can be our dirty little secret. If you touch me again, though, or if you act against me in any way, I will tell everyone what you did. And they will believe me, no matter what you say, especially when I show them the bruises."
Harry didn't really have much confidence that anyone would believe him even if he reported the complete truth and showed them physical evidence, and the part of him that still lived in a cupboard couldn't help fearing someone would punish him if he did, but apparently his words were convincing enough to make the giant believe it. And to make him fear the consequences of Harry showing anyone his bruises. Bruises that Harry was bound to have after their scuffle in the forest, seeing that the brute had manhandled him worse than Uncle Vernon ever had, and that would be a multicolour spectacle of evidence for weeks if left to heal naturally.
No one, not even Aunt Petunia, had ever looked at him with so much loathing as the giant was looking at him now, but the hatred was mixed up with fear in the brutish eyes so the effect was more gratifying than upsetting. Aunt Petunia might have been able to hurt him with her hateful looks, but no one else could, especially not now that Harry had power to make people fear him more than they hated him. And he now had a sort of power over the giant. He might not be able to kill him, but he could get him in serious trouble just by talking and lifting up his sleeve, and it looked like such leverage might be enough to ensure the oaf didn't try to stop him if he tried to run again. He also had hopefully ensured the giant would keep quiet about their scuffle in the woods, so he couldn't be less than satisfied with the exchange.
If only the blond bully had been so receptive to threats. But no. That prat was too self-important for his own good, and apparently he would rather die than live under someone's thumb. Harry could understand the feeling, that stubborn refusal to admit defeat even when one was beaten down on the ground, but really, it was stupid to resist when you didn't have the power to fight back. It definitely was stupid to give the person threatening to kill you even more reasons to do so instead of saying whatever you had to say to make sure you had the chance to get revenge someday in the future. The blond boy hadn't even tried to lie, when Harry had given him a chance to plead for his life. Instead he had used the opportunity to threaten Harry, Neville, the minions and all their families, and everything he had said about his powerful father and that Snape bloke in Hogwarts had sounded too truthful and dangerous to ignore.
Now Harry wished he had stayed out of the whole conflict and let Neville fend for himself against all those bullies, but like an idiot he had gotten involved. He had tried to help, as usual, but he had only managed to make everything worse for everyone and land himself in this stupid boat. He had tried to kill the blond boy to protect Neville, and now thanks to Neville he was being dragged under the influence of the dangerous wizards he had tried to protect Neville from.
It was as if Fate was punishing him for trying to help, confirming that he should only look after himself and not risk his safety for anyone else.
No one spoke for the rest of the trip. The giant's silent hostility was almost as distracting as his friendly chat had been, but far from bothering him Harry basked in the negativity. Being constantly on edge helped him focus his power, and it made him feel more in control as he was slowly towed towards a place where he feared everything would be out of his control. A place that unsettled him in a way nothing had before.
Harry looked up at the towering castle again, and was struck by another surge of conflicting emotions when its powerful awareness washed over him. He felt more deeply scrutinized by the magical building than he had ever felt by anyone in his life, as if the castle were able to look deep inside him and see who he really was, his every impulse and intention laid bare for observation and judgement. He might have thought he was imagining things, but he knew he wasn't, and the wavering speed of the boats was proof of that. The giant kept grumbling about them going too damn slow, and it was true: the closest they got to the castle, the slower the boats seemed to move, as if they didn't really want to reach their destination, and Harry somehow knew that their stalling was directly related to him.
The castle was hesitant.
While he waited for the pile of rubble to decide whether it was a good idea to let him in, Harry turned his thoughts back to the matter of last names and blood lineages. He had heard Aunt Marge say more than once that it all came down to blood. There were families with good blood, she had said, just like there were good bloodlines of dogs, and then there were people that gave away their bad blood by spawning underbred children like Harry. She had insisted that the apple never fell far from the tree, and that one could tell by the tree if the apple would be rotten.
It had all sounded like crap to Harry at the time, and he still resisted to accept that some people were just bad apples, but as he got closer and closer to a magical school his father might have attended before him he couldn't help wondering if there might be some truth to it. If he had inherited his magic and even a special talent from someone, then blood clearly was important, and if his father had been a bad person —and judging by the giant's reaction, Evan Rosier had been the worst sort of tree— then maybe that explained why Harry was so bad himself. Especially if he was a bastard, like the blond boy had suggested. Aunt Petunia had always said illegitimate children could only grow up to be criminals or drug addicts, and she had said Harry could almost be considered one, seeing that his mother had already been knocked up when she had married his father.
Maybe she had been more right than she had thought, if his father had been another man.
Disappointing as it was to discover that his biological father might have been a bad person, though, Harry would not want a better one. He might be a bad apple because of who his father had been, but the bad blood had come with power, and power mattered more to Harry than a good name so he would not change his blood for anything in the world. Besides, he knew a good man could never be proud of having a criminal son like him, but a bad man... a bad man might accept him and even understand him. Even if his real father was just as dead as the fake one and Harry would never get to meet him either, he found comfort in the idea that the man would not have rejected him for being a bad person too.
Still, Harry had enough bad relatives as it was as to want to claim a whole new branch, so he would have preferred to deny any association with that man Evan Rosier and any relatives of his. He couldn't ignore that claiming to be the son of a real person was convenient in his present situation, however. It seemed like people would easily believe that Evan Rosier might have been his father, both because of the hair colour thing and because of the man's known promiscuity, and that made it a much better cover story than the one he had come up with before coming here. In fact, if Harry had known about this possible connection beforehand he would have played things very differently today, building up his cover from the start and maybe accepting the blond's alliance to solidify his Rosier identity...
Harry shook himself out of his useless thoughts. Things could have gone in many different ways, and he wanted to kick himself for all the bad decisions —starting with rescuing Neville's toad— that had led him to his current predicament, but this was what he had to deal with now so he shouldn't waste time and concentration lamenting roads not taken. His situation wasn't completely hopeless, he reminded himself, and it was actually improving by the moment. He could feel his magic growing stronger, and the castle was clearly wary of him so he felt confident that he would be able to negotiate his way out if he were dealing only with the building. The people inside were more worrisome, but there was still a chance that no one yet knew who he was nor what he had done, and with the minions under his control he might be able to kill the blond bully before he got the chance to talk to anyone. He would have to kill the minions too, afterwards, and maybe also Neville if the stupid boy couldn't keep his mouth shut-
Burying his face on his hands, Harry fought a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the swaying of the boat. He felt sick at his own murderous thoughts, disgusted with himself. Can you tell how rotten I am, Mr. Castle? You should just let me teleport away. I will hurt people if you force me in. Or they might hurt me, but why would you care about that?
When the boats suddenly picked up speed again, Harry didn't know how to interpret it. Anguish and anger wrestled inside his chest at the thought that the castle might be hoping someone would hurt him inside, that someone would lock him up to protect the world from him. That possibility made him think perhaps he should give up, stop resisting the inevitable and just turn himself in, even as it made him feel the urge to reduce the stupid building to smoking ruins. Because it wasn't fair, none of this. Harry hadn't wanted to hurt anyone. He didn't want any of this. It was unfair that he got punished for trying to help someone in need. That he got betrayed for his good intentions.
It would not be fair if at the end of the day Neville and the blond bully were both safe and comfortably settled somewhere in the castle while he was rotting in some dungeon.
Harry was a bundle of conflicting emotions, strayed thoughts and magical sensations when the boats finally reached the cliff and the giant yelled for everyone to lower their heads. They were carried through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the rock face, and, as if Harry hadn't had enough to deal with already, as they glided along a dark tunnel he became fully aware of the castle around him, so strong and powerful, just as ready to welcome him in as to come crashing down on him. It was overwhelming, the magic, so intense and pervading, assaulting his senses from every direction in all its unnerving ambiguity. Harry felt intoxicated, and even though the feeling was exhilarating he didn't like it. He didn't trust it. He didn't trust himself around so much power, knowing that it would blow his mind trying to control it.
He had doubled over and was gasping for air, choking up on the magic with every ragged breath, when the boat came to a stop and the giant yelled something he couldn't quite understand. Then the boat jostled as the hostile presence behind him clambered out, he heard his fake name, whispers around him, the castle pressing on him...
"Evan? Are you all right? Can you hear us?" said a bossy voice filled with concern. "I think his blood pressure is low. Or maybe his blood sugar? Evan? Are you diabetic? Does anyone have something sweet to give him?"
"He looks sick," said another voice. "We should get him out of the boat-"
"No, no one touches him," rasped the giant immediately. "Everyone stay away."
"But he needs help-"
"He's just a little queasy, it'll pass soon enough. Don't go near him."
It was the tone what cleared his head. The brute spoke as if Harry were a dangerous creature that couldn't be trusted not to tear apart anyone who came within reach of its claws or teeth, and while that was probably a fair assessment the tone said much more. It said that Harry not only was dangerous, he was dirty. He was a bad apple.
As usual, anger helped him focus, so when he finally raised his eyes to fix the giant with a deadly glare his mind was able to process more than just the magic surrounding him. He noticed that he was in some sort of underground harbour, and saw a lot of faces staring at him from above. So much for not drawing attention to myself, he berated himself as he flattened his fringe to make sure his scar remained concealed. Hermione was the person closest to him, he saw, and probably the only one who seemed genuinely worried about him.
"I'm fine," he told her, pushing down the guilt and sadness that he felt at the sight of her. Guilt, because he had used her as a source of information and 'borrowed' one of her books without intending to return it. Sadness, because he knew she was going to look at him differently when she discovered that he was a murderous freak who didn't give a damn about rules.
"Do you need anything?" she asked solicitously. "Something with sugar, maybe? Neville has candy- Neville!"
"I don't need anything," he snapped, feeling his blood boil at the mention of Neville. He groped around in search of his rucksack, which had been under his bench last time he had checked, but he couldn't find it anywhere in the boat. "Where is my stuff?" he demanded, feeling the boat swaying dangerously underneath as he climbed to his feet. His eyes flew to the giant, who looked suddenly alarmed.
"You'll get it back after the feast," said the gruffly man in a defensive tone. "I'll give it to your Head of House, he'll make sure it's delivered to your dormitory."
In a flash, Harry was out of the boat and standing in front of the giant with his hand stretched out before him.
"Give it back," he said through clenched teeth.
"You can't go to your sorting carrying a heavy bag-"
"Do you really want to challenge me?" cut him off Harry with a warning look. "My bag, now."
The giant scowled, but after a brief resistance he handed over the rucksack grumbling something about nasty snakes under his breath. Then, clearly sick of dealing with him, the man turned around, grabbed a lamp that was hanging from a hook, and bid everyone to follow him through a passageway in the rock. Most people rushed to obey, casting curious, intimidated or disapproving looks at Harry as they passed, except for Hermione, who seemed eager to go but was holding back waiting for him, and Neville... Neville, who had good reason to look guilty and terrified.
"I-I- I'm sorry," squeaked the boy when Harry pushed him hard against a wall. "I didn't know what- I- didn't meant to- I-I'm sorry!"
"Evan!" scolded Hermione. "What are you doing? Let him go!"
"This is none of your business, Hermione," he spat. "Go ahead with the rest, Neville and I have something to discuss."
"I'm not going anywhere. Release him right now!"
"Go away!" snarled Harry, turning to glare at her. "This is not your business!"
The girl looked angry, frightened and ready to burst into tears all at once. Fortunately she chose to go cry somewhere else, leaving Harry alone with Neville in the underground harbour.
"What did you tell them?" demanded Harry, focusing again on the terrified boy.
"I-I-I- I just told them where..." Neville choked back a sob "... where you were."
"That's not all," hissed Harry angrily. "I know you told them about my hair. What else?"
"I-I- N-Nothing else... I- I didn't- I didn't tell them about... That's all. Please don't hurt me!"
"Oi! Leave him alone!" exclaimed a voice behind him. "Back off or I'll-"
Harry turned to face whoever had interrupted them, and saw that it was the redhead boy that he had sort of impersonated in the train. He was also one of the students that had fallen to the water, so he was still wet, as were the other two boys at his flanks.
"Or you what?" challenged Harry, remembering that this boy had called him a nutcase in the train. He had probably been right, but it still pissed him off.
"Or we'll make you," said the redhead, crackling his knuckles threateningly.
Really? Another bully? Just how many are there in Hogwarts?
Harry was trying to decide how to handle the situation —he didn't want to kill anyone else, but this might be the only opportunity he would have to get rid of Neville, and if these other boys were bullies he might as well take them out too— when he felt something snap inside his mind. A few seconds later he felt it again, and his heart broke into a gallop when he realized what had just happened.
He had lost his minions.
Harry lifted both hands to his temples and turned his focus inwards, trying not to lose sight of the redhead while he struggled to find the power lines in the overwhelmed tangle that was his mind. Neville had taken advantage of his distraction to scramble away and hide behind the other boys, but he couldn't care about that at the moment. It didn't matter if Neville talked, not if all the other witnesses talked too, and if he had lost connection to his minions... As he searched frantically within himself for some remaining thread of control he could hold on to, Harry tried to think of harmless reasons why the power lines might have snapped, but all he could come up with were really bad possibilities. Either the castle had interfered with his magic, or the minions had somehow broken themselves free, or someone else had cut the cords. In any case, if Harry couldn't get them back under control fast they were going to start talking, and someone might believe them-
"There you are," growled a very annoyed voice breaking his concentration. "I don't want any more trouble, you hear me? All of you, follow me, now. You too, Roberts. And don't even try to run!"
Harry raised an eyebrow at the giant, reminding him with a look that he better not dare trying to grab him again.
"I'm not gonna touch you," grumbled the brute. "But you're coming like it or not."
Harry felt tempted to ask him how did he expect to achieve that without touching him, but he didn't have neither the time nor the energy to engage in pointless taunting. And he feared he might not have another choice but to follow the giant through the passageway, seeing that it was the only way out —he had already noticed that the access to the water tunnel had been closed off by a portcullis, and there were no other visible exits from this underground trap.
So after a brief internal deliberation he resigned himself to follow the other boys as they filed out after the oversized man. He continued trying to reassert his control over the minions while he clambered up the rocky passageway, but re-establishing the connection was more a wish than a hope so he didn't waste too much mental effort on that, instead directing most of his energy to keep the bloody castle out of his mind. He wasn't sure if the thing could read his thoughts, but just in case he tried to block it, not wanting the building to know what he intended to do so it couldn't hinder him lowering portcullis right and left as he went.
He was struggling not to lose the spatial relation with the last direction he had sensed the power lines coming from, wondering whether he should try to reach the minions to shut them up or run in the opposite direction at the first opportunity, when he suddenly found himself walking over smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. He quickly looked around trying to assess his new surroundings, cataloguing possible threats and escape routes even as part of him couldn't help simply staring up in awe at the imposing structure. The rest of the students were clustered together not so far away, he noticed, waiting near what looked like the front of door of the castle proper, which was open. There was someone standing in the doorway, a very tall woman wearing robes and a pointy hat, everything about her so very witchy that Harry felt instantly wary of her. All his instincts screamed at him not to enter the castle, so he lagged behind as he tried to estimate how long it would take him to reach the edge of the forest he could see down the slope. It was pretty far away, and Harry would be weighted down by his heavy rucksack, but he could win himself some time causing some distraction with his magic, maybe setting something —or someone— on fire...
"Don't even think about it," grunted the giant, who apparently had noticed his straggling and had stopped to scowl at him in warning. "No more running."
"I will do whatever I want to do," said Harry haughtily. "And you will let me."
"Oh come on," whined the redhead. "We've already been waiting for hours because of you, we are all hungry, and cold, and-"
"You shut up!" snapped Harry, not in the mood to suffer spoiled brats who couldn't handle a little hunger.
"That forest is dangerous, not like the one in Hogsmeade," warned the giant in a spooky voice. "There're all sorts of creatures in there, some that could eat you in one bite. Giant spiders like human flesh the most, and they don't get to taste it every day so they'd jump at you as soon as you stepped into their territory."
"Giant spiders?" exclaimed the redhead in a high-pitched voice. "Here? How big? They don't get into the castle, do they?"
Harry frowned. It sounded like a tale meant to scare children out of the woods, but after having seen a giant octopus juggling multiple students at once he was rather inclined to take such warnings seriously. What was it with giant creatures and people, though? Was it a magical thing? Maybe everything grew up bigger around this castle?
He was feeling more anxious and trapped by the second. Even if the giant stood by and let him run, he wasn't sure he would risk the forest, not if there might be giant, possibly magic-resistant creatures prowling about. And there wasn't anything else that would offer some cover within sight. It was that, or the underground harbour —which was a dead end—, or the castle —which held any number of potential threats and multiple witnesses out of his control. And now the witch lady was approaching, and she looked scary... Harry tried to teleport again, but the damn castle was still blocking him. Maybe he could fly? That would be great, but he had never done it on purpose before, and the only unintentional time he had glided down rather than flown up. Maybe if he climbed somewhere high and jumped?
"What is going on here?" demanded the tall woman, coming to a stop a few feet away and encompassing them all with a long, stern look. Harry's first thought when he saw her face up close was that she would not be someone to cross even if she weren't so obviously a witch. "Why the delay, Hagrid? Even considering the... incident, we expected you long ago. And why are there wet students? I thought the lake was calm tonight?"
"I'm sorry for the delay, Professor McGonagall," said the giant with a sheepish expression that made him look like an overgrown, very hairy child. "A student collapsed back in Hogsmeade, after Grant and the others left. There was a problem with the lights at the station too, and then the boats were acting out, throwing off students and going slow. Weird day."
"Someone collapsed? Who?" inquired the witch with concern, eyeing the wet students critically as if looking for signs of illness. She pulled her wand out and waved it at them as she spoke, drying them instantly without saying any magical words —a demonstration of power Harry took careful note of.
"That one there. Evan Roberts. He's fine, though," said the giant with a nervous glance at him. "Just tired and a bit dizzy from the boats."
And full of bruises, thought Harry resentfully.
"Roberts?" asked the witch with a frown, fixing him with a look so stern that he almost confessed everything on the spot. "So this is the extra student that is not in the list."
"Not in the list?" The giant frowned too and glanced at Harry suspiciously. "I thought my list was just wrong."
"The list is never wrong," said the witch matter-of-factly, still regarding Harry thoughtfully. "Perhaps he's a sibling who didn't want to be left behind? That would explain his dizziness. Can you see the castle, Mr. Roberts?"
Harry stared at her. What sort of question was that?
"Oh he can see it, all right," snorted the giant bitterly. "The kid's a wizard for sure, Professor McGonagall, I can vouch for that. His magic went haywire back in Hogsmeade, that's why he collapsed. Got scared and lashed out like a vengeful storm." The brute glared at him, and Harry could see in his eyes that he suspected it hadn't been an accident at all. "He's Rosier's sprog, maybe that's why he's not in the list. They would have wanted to hide him, I reckon, keep him off the record."
"Rosier? I thought you said Roberts?" asked the witch with a frown.
"Out-of-wedlock," shrugged the giant. "Doesn't get the name, but he's got the blood. Kid's a shapeshifter."
"Rosier?" spat the redhead boy, his previous dislike evolving to pure loathing in response to the name. He surveyed Harry up and down with revulsion, as if he were evil personified. "Like You-Know-Who's follower?"
All right, just how bad had his probable father been? What had the man done to elicit so much automatic hatred? Could he have been some sort of demon in league with Satan? Harry wouldn't be surprized if God and the Devil actually existed, at this point.
Maybe claiming to be Evan Rosier's bastard son wasn't such a good idea after all. The redhead looked almost murderous, Neville was plainly horrified by his identity, another boy was eyeing him with deep mistrust. The tall witch wasn't showing any open hostility, but her grave expression and the way she pursed her lips made clear that she thought Harry was bad news. Harry had spent his entire life being unwanted, both by his family and by his teachers, so he knew that look.
"Well..." she said rigidly after a moment. "I'm sure we can arrange for a spot for you, Mr.- Mr. Roberts. You will have to discuss your situation with the Headmaster before you can be admitted, but-"
"What? No! He should be kicked out!" exclaimed the redhead boy in outrage. "You can't let that-"
"Mr. Weasley!" scolded the witch. "Admission decisions are made by the Headmaster of the school, not by students."
"But-"
"Don't trouble yourself, ma'am," interrupted Harry, levelling the redhead with an icy glare that hopefully would keep him shivering for weeks. "I'm not interested in being admitted. I don't want to come to this school. I tried to tell that to the stupid oaf, but he refused to listen and dragged me here against my will."
It stung a little to be so strongly rejected by everyone around him, but Harry was used to that, and in this case he could use that. It seemed like the McGonagall witch —who was the Deputy Headmistress, if he recalled his Hogwarts letter correctly— didn't know anything bad about him yet, or at least nothing worse than his possible blood connection with a generally despised man. If the blond bully or his minions had accused him, she hadn't been informed about it yet, so as far as she knew there was no reason why he should be locked up. It was also obvious that she would rather kick him out of her school, and since Harry wasn't in the list nor wanted to be admitted she might very well take the chance to get rid of him before anyone else could voice an opinion.
For now, she was just staring at him blankly, as were everyone else present. Even those who openly loathed him seemed more perplexed than glad to hear that he didn't intend to stay.
"You don't... you don't wish to attend this school?" asked the witch finally, frowning at him as if suspecting some trick. "Why are you here, then, wearing Hogwarts robes?"
"Because I was going to come, but I changed my mind on the train. Now, if you could just tell the castle to let me out, I will be on my way."
"Tell... the castle?" repeated the witch in confusion, then shook her head as if to clear it. "Mr. Roberts, we cannot allow a child leave the grounds without authorization from his guardians. And you cannot make by yourself the decision of which school to attend. If you were sent here, clearly your guardians wish you to attend Hogwarts. We can contact them for you and suggest them take your wishes into account, but-"
"I don't have guardians," sneered Harry contemptuously. "There is no one to contact. I make my own decisions, and I've decided I don't want to come to this bloody school. Now please let me out."
Let me out, you witless pile of rubble, or I'll tear you down stone by stone.
Harry reached for the invisible wall again, and found in frustration that it was still firmly there, locking him in. He considered attacking it with his angry magic again, but now that he had felt the full strength of the castle he knew he couldn't win that fight. Maybe under different circumstances he would stand a chance, but not in his current state, so tired and lightheaded, distracted by pain and discomfort and surrounded by enemies that might take advantage of his vulnerability.
What else could he do, though? The witch lady wasn't going to let him go, he could see that in her eyes. She was yet another adult who didn't want him, and wouldn't help him, but was all too happy to get in his way. Normally Harry would either walk around her or step over her inert body, but after having seen her do magic he feared she might be able to stop him or fight him off if he tried to run or attack her. Even if he could take her wand from her, there was a risk, since for all he knew all proper wizards and witches could do magic without props. It might be that they just preferred to use wands, or that they drew magic from the sticks so they didn't have to drain themselves using their own.
He couldn't stay here, though, not when inside the castle someone might be aware of everything he had done. He had to go, now-
"Is everything in order, Professor McGonagall?" asked a grave voice coming from the direction of the castle. "The children are starting to fall asleep on their tables, perhaps we could get on with the Sorting Ceremony?"
"Dumbledore," breathed the witch in relief. "I was about to send for you. We have a situation here. This is Mr. Roberts, the student I told you about. He's not in the list."
"Ah, yes, our mystery student," said the newcomer, looking at Harry with an amused expression on his old face. His eyes seemed to twinkle in the darkness. "He's not in the list, you say? And yet he's here."
"He doesn't want to be here," said the witch, "that's half the problem."
Harry stood silent and outwardly calm while the Deputy Headmistress explained the situation to the Headmaster, but inside he was squirming in panic. If he had been wary before, now he was in high alert, because he could tell that this wizard was powerful. Everything about him, from his imposing figure, to his relaxed posture, to the reverent way people looked at him, screamed power. Harry could almost see the magic radiating from his eyes, and he could definitely sense the danger, the threat posed by his very presence.
Even if he had been unable to perceive all that on an instinctual level, if he hadn't seen past the merry twinkling and noticed the sharpness of the man's gaze, Harry would have known to be wary the moment he learned that this ancient wizard was the great Albus Dumbledore Hermione had prattled about. Dumbledore, Grand Sorcerer of the Order of Merlin, Supreme Mugwump (whatever that might mean), defeater of dark wizards, and, as Headmaster of Hogwarts, the most likely person to be in command of this magical castle. He would also be the first person to be informed of anything that happened inside his school, so he must already know everything about the blond boy's near death, and he might know too whatever the minions might have said upon breaking free of the mind control.
What really put Harry on edge, though, was the wizard's friendly attitude. Because it couldn't be real. It couldn't be genuine. Even if he didn't yet know about Harry's involvement in a murder attempt, he was being told that Harry was the illegitimate son of an apparently terrible man, but unlike the other people around he seemed more amused than appalled by that revelation. He didn't know Harry, and he had no reason to like him —on the contrary—, and yet he was still smiling fondly at him, almost warmly. It was nerve-wracking.
"Well, Mr. Roberts," said the Headmaster when his Deputy had finished explaining the situation, "I am curious to know what made you change your mind. It's usually the other way around: once people see the castle, any doubts they might have had about coming to Hogwarts dissolve. It's a magical place, after all, all things magical feel at home here."
"So what? Should I want to stay just because it's magical?" asked Harry. His tone was more belligerent than it was probably wise, but he couldn't help it. Everything about this twinkling wizard made him want to lash out. "It's not the only magical place in the world. I know there are other magical schools, at the very least. Maybe I want to go to a different one. A better one."
His words were met with exclamations of shock or outrage all around.
"There's no better one," growled the giant indignantly. "Hogwarts is the best school of witchcraft there is, you would be lucky to-"
"Thank you, Hagrid," cut him off the Headmaster firmly. "What's wrong with Hogwarts, Harry? You came all this way, the doors are wide open for you, why don't you want to stay?"
"I just don't like it, is that a crime?" spat Harry angrily. "I don't like the people, nor the castle, and... and everything is so damn big here!"
The old wizard chuckled. Harry fought an urge to kick him in the shin. This was not a laughing matter! His freedom was at stake, his life, and the infuriating man kept chuckling as if he were enjoying the best joke he had heard in a long while.
"It takes some getting used to, I admit," said the white-bearded man, sobering up a little. "But I'm sure you could grow to like it, Harry. The people too, once you got to know them. Most importantly, though, this is the safest place for you to learn magic."
"Safe?" scoffed Harry. "This school is a deadly trap. There are monstrous creatures all around. Bullies everywhere I look. And I can tell already that everyone will try to beat me down because of who I am."
He waved an angry hand at the redhead, who was the closest candidate to bully, but he lost his train of thought when he noticed that the boy was staring at him with mouth agape instead of glaring at him. And he wasn't the only one. The giant also seemed to have forgotten his resentment and was staring at him with mouth open, an expression of absolute horror on his face. Neville seemed shocked too, his eyes wide as plates, and the Deputy Headmistress had covered her mouth with one hand and was clutching her chest as if she were having a heart attack.
Not understanding the general reaction, but feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end in response, Harry looked over his shoulder expecting to see a giant spider or some horror of the sort. There was nothing behind him, though, and they were all staring at him-
And then he realized. Harry looked back at the old wizard, who was chuckling again, his eyes twinkling madly behind his half-moon spectacles.
"Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Potter," said the Headmaster with amused solemnity. "Perhaps we can continue this discussion after the feast? I believe the food is getting cold."
