Nefarious Black

Dawn had finally come. Harry jumped every second step on his way down to the informal dining room. His grandfather stood at the bottom of the staircase, chuckling at Harry's obvious eagerness.

'You know, Harry, your family would be very much set at ease if you allowed yourself to be seen like this by anyone but me. They keep telling me how they fear your obsession with books and studies may turn you into a studious house-elf. If only they knew of your feisty beginnings…'

Harry returned a smile but looked slightly sheepish nevertheless.

'Aw, come on, Grandfather. Don't mock me on this fine day. Especially since it was you who talked me into this.' Arcturus returned the smile and led his grandson to breakfast. Cranky seemed to have done his utmost to impress him upon his departure, in alarmingly unexpected ways.

'Is ... is that Fugu, Cranky?' Harry eventually managed to stutter. Arcturus, meanwhile, seeing Harry's expression, was having trouble suppressing a laugh.

'It is indeed, Master Harry,' replied the smug elf with a note of self-satisfaction. Upon seeing Harry's apparent lack of comprehension, he explained a bit more. 'Cranky had Kreacher and Minny supply him with a specimen of adequate quality, which took them long enough. Cranky personally then prepared the meal for Master Harry's culinary pleasure, and because it seemed like a challenge, Cranky abstained from doing it the simple way and did not use one bit of magic.'

Harry was slightly wary, as he had heard that pufferfish was highly toxic, but he did not want to affront Cranky. Arcturus was even more hesitant, but both eventually braved the dish, finding its unusual taste and the slightest tingling sensation a welcome if strange experience.

'Harry, before I forget it: In contrast to our previous arrangements, we may not be able to celebrate winter solstice as privately as we are both accustomed to. Due to some circumstances, it will be unavoidable to hold a formal ball this year, and yes,' he added, seeing the look of annoyance on Harry's face, 'you have to attend as well, I fear. You may, of course, invite any new acquaintances you make at Hogwarts this term, and I know Cranky will be all too happy to accommodate them.'

The elf shone with alacrity and added with an evil grin, 'Cranky will be most pleased! Cranky may even enlarge Master Harry's bed if his new friends prove to be the female sort.'

Harry tried to ignore the jibe but failed to keep the embarrassment from his face.

'No worries, Harry. If you fail to bewitch any young ladies this year, I am all too sure your cousin will gladly take their place,' Arcturus added smartly.

'Oh, please! Will the two of you shut up! Why must you torture me so?'

~BLHD~

King's Cross was simply incredible. Harry only wished he could somehow improve it further by removing all the people – or gagging them all at the very least. People nearly jumped out of his way in an effort to distance themselves, and then there was the buzzing of only slightly veiled insults. He was used to the muttering of course, but it did not help his temper that parents kept pointing at him, obviously warning their offspring to stay away from the Blacks. Others threw occasional glances of envy towards him, though he highly suspected they, in fact, merely applied to his wardrobe. He had dressed in his favourite black and green robes and additionally wore a light velvet shawl. Truthfully, he had not paid any particular attention to his clothing today, but by the looks he received, he was sure other people thought him a braggart of some sort.

'Do not let it bother you, Harry. I am sure there will be people who are amendable in their way of thinking. If you have any problems whatsoever, do send me an owl, or simply call Cranky. He does not wish me to tell you this, but he was most worried. I do think you would please him very much should you decide to summon him once or twice in the castle. You would put my mind to rest as well, as I know the little tot will do his best to keep your problems at arm's length, or even the length of your new cutlass, possibly.'

Harry could not help but smile, trying his best to reassure his grandfather. 'Please do not worry, Grandfather! I promise I will make you proud.'

Arcturus took a long moment gazing into his eyes, and Harry realised that this man, for all his outward calm, would probably blast away half the castle if he thought him in trouble. His grandfather grabbed his shoulder and revealed a minuscule but honest smile.

'You always do, son.'

Harry had trouble mastering his emotions and was still visibly bleary-eyed when he finally settled for a compartment far in the back of the train. He instantly buried himself in one of his books and tried to persuade himself that there was nothing wrong with a fourteen-year-old showing some slightly embarrassing puffy eyes. Not too long after the train had started rolling, the door swung open and a girl with curly brown hair entered.

~BLHD~

Hermione Granger had been incredibly excited for over a year now. Since she had gotten her letter last year, she had dragged her parents all over Diagon Alley at least three dozen times. She had marvelled at the strangeness of the magical world and was extremely grateful to be able to prepare for school all year long. Her parents had been slightly disinclined towards this whole magic business, but in the end, Hermione's youthful enthusiasm had won them over.

Though she was indeed quite eager to learn as much as she could, she could not help but feel like she was leaving something behind once the train started running. She breathed deeply a few times and made her way along the compartments. She had heard the chatter of course; some kind of incredibly dangerous family called Black had placed their youngest scion on the train. It was said that an entire generation of their main family (whatever that was) had been sentenced to Azkaban, all of them for murder. She had also heard how one of them had died in a fight, trying to kill the Aurors that were sent to apprehend him, so she could not be entirely sure what to believe. It did sound pretty bad, anyway. How could they let someone like that loose on the train? If she was honest with herself, all the murmur had left her feeling quite unsafe and wary.

As she had no way of knowing whom to avoid, she glanced nervously into the compartments she passed but found most of them full of boisterous laughter, talk, or students much older than her. Finally, she found one that was completely empty except for a rather frail-looking boy in elegant robes of black and green who sat by the window and was deeply immersed in his reading.

'Hello, my name is Hermione. May I sit here?' she asked politely.

To her great surprise, the boy nearly jumped as she spoke, and – now that she had a better look – seemed rather red-eyed.

'Sure...'

That seemed to be everything he was willing to say, so she sat down at his side. Soon, she realised that he seemed keen on retreating even further into the depths of his seat with what she speculated to be embarrassment. She tried to ease the mood.

'What's that you're reading?' she asked with pronounced cheerfulness.

'Malagoch's s-second theorem on the permanency of charms in hazardous environments,' he eventually divulged, sounding highly reluctant. Apparently, this boy was rather shy. He was barely able to hold a coherent conversation with a girl, by the looks of it. She suppressed a giggle and a pang of guilt both, as curiosity easily won over any other emotions.

'I've never heard of that one before... It is not part of the first year curriculum, is it? I've read those, of course.'

Her voice had betrayed only sincere interest and perhaps a slight worry that she did not know of Malagoch. Maybe this caused the boy to look her in the eye for the first time, if only for the briefest of moments.

'It ... is not p-part of the Hogwarts course of instruction. I think the basics will be covered in fourth or fifth year Charms, though.'

Panic reared its ugly head, sniffing the air. Had Hermione failed already?!

'Is...Is it expected of us to read that far ahead? I had initially thought I'd done an acceptable job preparing. But in hindsight, my efforts were pretty feeble, after all. Oh no. OH NO! What have I done, loitering away, watering the plants!' She had a hard time calming herself, aware how she flailed her hands around hysterically. Hermione knew she must look like a neurotic, but her entire stomach seemed to disintegrate with unwelcome feelings of insecurity.

The boy observed her silently – as if to decide whether or not she was taking the mickey. After a moment, he offered a tiny smile and muttered softly, 'I doubt that very much. A good deal of people do not even bother opening the books that are set for the term, never mind actually reading ahead.'

He did not say anything more, but she managed to calm herself after several more moments anyway. 'Oh! Uh, thanks! I guess I'm really nervous about this whole thing. I mean, I tried to prepare myself, of course, but there is so much I don't know.'

'You are Muggle-born, then?' She might not have heard him speak at all if she had not become somewhat used to his gentle and hushed voice by now. At least he seemed to have calmed down enough to stop stuttering. She really felt for the boy. He might have an even harder time than her once they were at Hogwarts and the hustle and bustle began.

'Yes, I have had a few opportunities to pose questions to Professor McGonagall, obviously, but this is only my second real conversation with someone from the magical world.' She smiled brightly and tried to ignore that the gesture seemed to put him further on guard. 'Do you think I will be at a great disadvantage? The professor seemed keen to assuage my worries. I would appreciate another opinion – if you don't mind?'

The boy seemed bashful at being asked so many questions, and she kind of had to resist the urge to press for more information. It was quite pitiful to see him squirm, but for now, she needed answers, and he seemed to know a lot (or, at least, reasonably more than she herself did) about the magical world.

It took a while. Finally, he answered, speaking as if every word had been chosen with great care. 'I doubt that. Hogwarts has gone to great lengths to ensure Muggle-borns are not placed in an uncomfortable position in recent years. Receiving the book list and letter of acceptance more than a year in advance, for example, is such a measure. You also seem quite keen to learn, so I would not worry overmuch. You may want to know, however, that there may be those who will hold your upbringing against you.'

Feeling worried and relieved at once, she hurriedly tried to keep the chat alive. 'You mean that I'm Muggle-born? I've heard about that, but is it really so bad?'

At her question, he looked somewhat conflicted. In the end, he closed his book and seemed to force himself to answer nonetheless.

'Once, magical Britain was more or less divided into about seventy families who ruled supreme.' Hermione looked startled at the small boy, who now sounded as if he was citing an essay from the top of his head. 'Family in those times was as much a clan as it was a political affiliation. There were Muggle-borns too, of course, but they were of little consequence to the existing governmental structures. In time, the influence of those families waned, however, and today only a few of them still hold any real semblance of power, while many are gone entirely. Thus, some of them frown upon what they consider a "dilution of magical blood", meaning bonds between old families and newer ones, Muggles or Muggle-borns; they fear for the continued existence of their bloodlines. While said old families regard themselves as keepers of time-honoured traditions, many others see them as frumpy conservatives who hate to let go of their influence. Grindelwald's campaign brought the old families nearly to their knees, as they were blamed for the rise of the most dangerous Dark Lord in a thousand years. So, in summary: you should be fine.' As an afterthought, he added glumly, 'In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you were better off than others.'

Hermione had followed the small voice with rapt attention. His formal and educated way of speaking was unexpected, but she found it quite endearing. She had read about some of what he had said, of course, especially about Grindelwald. But somehow the whole story was never presented in the manner in which this coy boy had described it, even though he had been brief. He did not seem excessively partial to her either. She decided to put his story on the back of her mind. She had other questions, and she somehow doubted that this soft-spoken lad would have the spunk to refuse her.

'Is the Black family one of those old families you mentioned?' she asked excitedly.

'Yes.' That was all again. He seemed oddly reluctant, but she just needed to know all about it.

'I have heard some terrible rumours, you know? How a young scion of the Black family was on this very train, and how we should all keep away from him? He has supposedly learned evil magic starting from a young age. Apparently, the Blacks are all really horrible people. There are several of them in prison for murder and...'

Before she could continue, however, the compartment door was yanked open, and she was alarmed to realise how fast the frail boy had his wand in his hand. Or maybe he had had it in his sleeve all the time?

In the frame of the door stood a tall and elegantly dressed blond boy, behind him two mountains of fat and muscle. Their faces seemed friendly enough, though.

'Merlin, Harry! I've looked for you all over the place. Was it really necessary to hide in the very back of the train?'

The skinny boy, Harry she supposed, relaxed visibly and sunk back into his seat. To her amazement, his attitude seemed completely casual all of a sudden. Was he just terribly bad with girls?

'Hello, Draco. Yeah…I'm not exactly in the mood right now. How about we catch up in the hall?'

The other boy laughed loudly. That one certainly didn't seem to lack confidence. 'Yeah, sure, mate. Who is this, by the way? I don't think I know her.'

Her bashful companion looked slightly troubled but proceeded with introductions nevertheless. He seemed oddly familiar with those and managed without stuttering. 'Draco, this is Hermione...' He cleared his throat to pass the awkward moment. 'Well, Hermione, that would be Draco Malfoy.'

'Granger!' she added suddenly, blushing slightly at the realisation that she had not even told him her full name. As he had not even seen fit to introduce himself, she quickly dropped the guilt. She was surprised that neither boy made any attempt to introduce the gorillas, nor – for that matter – did those two look offended. The other boy seemed deep in thought, and his eyebrows shot upwards.

'But she's a...'

'Be nice, Draco.'

She could not follow their exchange, but the soft words the frail one had uttered managed to sway the other boy quite easily. Strange, given their characters. But then, he seemed quite different as long as she was not involved.

'Haha! Sorry, Harry. We'll see each other later, then. Oh! And have you heard all those rumours about the nefarious Black scion? Please don't butcher any students and bathe in their blood while I'm in a different compartment, promise?' He winked disgustingly at the skinny boy in her company and closed the door.

For a few moments, there was silence and silence only.

Then, the boy got up and, to Hermione's great discomfort, closed the shutters. Afterwards, he tapped the door with his wand. When she heard the door bolted shut, she was starting to panic again. He made his way towards her, and she raised her arms instinctively…

When she opened her eyes ten seconds later, she saw that he had just sat down again, maybe even more shrunken into the back of his seat than ever before.

'I…just wanted to avoid any further visits. Draco can, er, be a bit annoying, but he is comparably harmless.' He picked up his book and began to read again.

Hermione was dumbfounded, but eventually, she found her voice again. 'What? You're that incredibly dangerous lunatic they all go on about?' She could not keep the incredulity from her voice.

He, however, was completely deadpan. Much more so than before, actually, to her slight concern. 'Yes. Sorry to disappoint your fancy imagination.'

She gawked at him for nearly half a minute before she came to her senses, remembering what she had said before they had been interrupted. She cringed, her ears burning with shame. Remembering her own dilemma back then, she immediately pounced to apologise. 'Sorry. That was really immature of me. I can't believe those idiots start this kind of ridiculous rumour. And, of course, I'm actually daft enough to put my foot in...'

His eyes flickered towards her briefly before returning to his book. He let out a breath she assumed he must have been holding for quite some time. 'Doesn't matter. I am used to that phenomenon.'

Hermione felt awful about this whole affair and tried to push her selfish thoughts away. He did seem pretty interested in charms, and that at least was something she could relate to. 'Was that a charm you used on the door? I didn't recognise the movement of your wand from the spell books...'

Her voice trailed away very slowly. She had the distinct impression that he was deciding whether to answer or not. Not wanting to let it end like this, she crept a bit closer to him, and – to her amusement – he clammed up again.

'Co... Colloportus is a bit unsafe, as the, ehh, counter-charm is also found in the Standard Book of Spells Grade I. Therefore, I used something a bit more difficult to undo...'

He looked distinctly uncomfortable. Quite amused, she wanted to see how far she could push him. She leant even closer in. 'You-can-find-it-in-the-sixth-grade-book-please-back-off-a-little! Merlin-I-am-no-good-with-this.'

She backed off and could not rein in her laughter. The alleged malicious master of Dark Arts, however, was busy looking away, a rather grumpy frown on his face.

'Sorry, Harry. But that's incredible! How come you're so far ahead...?'

Once she strayed from matters of his family, kept her distance and focused the topics of their talks on charms or magic in general, she found him thawing a bit. He was certainly knowledgeable in some areas. She had read further ahead than him in Potions and Astronomy; both subjects did not really seem to overly excite him. But she was quite surprised when he finally told her that, while his grandfather had taught him some magic, he had actually pushed himself this far ahead in charms, especially in its theory.

Their talks soon strayed from strictly lesson-related subjects, and while he still seemed very guarded to Hermione, Harry did at least seem more willing to participate in their chat. Soon she had told him much of her childhood, and he listened with obvious interest about her take of growing up in the Muggle-world. Several times, people tried to open the door, and twice, Hermione could very clearly hear someone trying the Alohomora charm before swearing loudly. One time, some person hammered on the door for at least three minutes. During this incident, Harry kept shooting the door worried glances, as if afraid of what might lurk beyond. Hermione too made no attempt to answer the knocks. She was sure any interruption in their innocent banter would disrupt their tender connection completely.

Not long before dusk, the topic of houses came up.

'I have read all about them, naturally,' Hermione opened the topic. 'I think Ravenclaw seems by far the best, though I would not mind Gryffindor, I guess. Slytherin seems to have a nasty reputation.'

Harry volunteered a minuscule smile and shook his head. Hermione immediately pounced on even this most demure sign of disagreement.

'You don't agree, Harry? Which house would you pick if you could?'

'Apologies, Hermione, I've had this discussion before. I think we shall have to disagree on this point, as I personally feel Ravenclaw would be the worst fit, for me at least.'

Hermione, completely surprised, immediately shot back, 'Seriously, Harry? You can't try to tell me that you're uninterested in learning or knowledge; even I have picked up on that in only a few hours. And please don't insult my intelligence by trying to deny your own.'

'It's not that!' He waved a hand dismissively. 'But the motivation behind it does not agree with me. I enjoy working on my charms because I do have some uses for them in mind. The concept of hoarding spell lore just for its own sake holds no real lure for me. Advancing the knowledge of wizardkind in general has never been and never will be my goal. And the same goes for you, I think.'

Hermione had not expected to turn on her, but the boy continued as if he did not need her permission to do so.

'You say you have picked up a few things about me, so let me return the favour. I think you are a, er, very bright young witch.' To her amusement, his cheeks coloured subtly, though he did not stop at merely complimenting her.

'But whenever you spoke of your upbringing, you had a definite hardness in your voice, even though you seem to be on good terms with your parents. So my guess would be that you had some problems in school. It isn't particularly difficult to imagine why. People often feel threatened by others they feel inferior to, and children can be brutally honest in their disdain. I do not wish to delve too deeply, but I think it entirely possible that a stand-off or passive isolation might have only further cemented your place outside of your peers, forcing you to devote yourself further to books and studies.'

He paused slightly and added in a softer tone, 'Not that I consider this a bad thing, mind you. I have more or less been living in the library for years. But now you venture into a previously unknown world and find yourself – again – committed to your studies. Would you not, therefore, have to agree with me that you have, at least in part, always put so much fervour into your studies because you wished to prove yourself right? To get a place for yourself that you feel like you deserved? Is this not ambition and resourcefulness? And – please don't slap me – would it be a stretch to say that self-interest or maybe rather self-preservation, the intent to protect yourself from others, was at least part of your upbringing? Those are predominant traits of House Slytherin, as you surely realise.'

Whatever she might have expected, this was not it. She felt angry with and betrayed by this flimsy boy in his expensive robes for exposing her like this. A furtive glance towards the door reassured her, however, that at least no one else had heard this. How had he been able to read her so easily anyway? Were all boys brought up by wizarding parents so scary?! There is no way someone should have been able to get such an accurate impression from only a few minutes of friendly chatter about one's childhood, right? And it actually seemed that he was holding back. Did he not state how he did not want to dig deeper? This is ridiculous.

To her utter astonishment, he grimaced sheepishly. 'It seems I need to apologise, Hermione. I seem to have taken on some bad habits of my grandfather's. He is much worse than me, but I remember clearly how uncomfortable that experience can be.'

'I'm in no hurry to make his acquaintance if that truly is the case, Harry.'

For the first time in hours, Harry gave an honest smile, even if it was small and short-lived. This little discovery calmed her down relatively quickly. She could not really be angry with him anyway, considering her initial ghastly behaviour.

'You may have a point, Harry,' she conceded grudgingly, 'but I really do like studying for what it is, not only for the proving myself aspect. I'd really rather not join Slytherin.'

Harry did not seem to pay her his full attention, however, but before she could become truly cross with him, an unfamiliar look of gleeful trickery that took her aback emerged on his face.

'Say, Hermione. You've asked me a dozen times this past hour what you could do to make me forgive you. How about this: If I get sorted into Slytherin, you will at least honestly consider the option and deeply reflect upon it for, let's say, fifteen minutes, how does that sound? If you make a sincere effort, we'll call it quits. Promise!'

She looked at him, full of doubt. This seemed a bit too easy for the awful things she had said. It was not like she even had to do anything, merely consider an option in case something happened.

'Harry, I don't even know how we are sorted, though you obviously know something. Is this really all right?'

His strangely roguish expression caused her a slight amount of anxiety, but he was just trying to bury the hatchet, right? There was no way this rather demure little boy, who had apparently buried himself in books for years, could belong anywhere but Ravenclaw, right?

'Yeah, it'll be fine, Hermione. If you stay true to our promise, so will I.'

He offered his hand, and – after a brief hesitation – she put that ridiculous notion of some greater plot out of her mind and accepted the handshake.

In hindsight, she should have paid attention to the fact that, for all his prior shyness and aversion to physical contact with her, Harry had been oddly composed and confident at that precise moment.