September 14, 1996
The first two weeks at Hogwarts had been standard. Everyone had settled into their classes, students were getting excited for the start of Quidditch which would come in October, and there had been rumours of a duelling club. Harry had also settled into his new responsibilities. He would have been lying if he had said that he wasn't nervous about teaching the first years. The theory was simple for him, something he could recite blindfolded. But the idea that he had to get the information to stick in the first-years heads was concerning; at least it was until he started.
Snape had taken attendance before explaining what Harry would be doing; the students had looked surprised but had listened and taken notes. And when two first years had tried to start up their own conversation, he had made Snape proud by snapping at them; Harry spotted Snape trying to cover his amused smirk. After his first class, Harry felt great and enjoyed being the one to dish out the homework for a change. He understood how satisfying it was to listen to the groan from the students.
It had also become apparent to most of the student body that Gilderoy Lockhart was as ridiculous as Harry thought. After he had walked out of Lockhart's class on the first day of classes, he had spoken to Flitwick about dropping the subject. Flitwick had been extremely surprised until Harry had explained his reasoning and hadn't even tried to change Harry's mind. His friends had confirmed that the rest of the class was just as much of a shamble as the first part had been, which continued to be the case. Even the other year's experiences had been just as bad. Harvey had explained to Harry the disaster of their first class with the fool; he had released a cage of Cornish Pixies that had caused complete chaos. They had destroyed the Defence classroom, injured Neville Longbottom, and a few had escaped into the castle. With the help of a few ghosts, Hagrid had been the one to wrangle the level devils.
It was hard for Harry to understand why Albus Dumbledore, the man who was supposed to be some marvel of a wizard, couldn't see the idiot for what he really was. No student would learn anything from a man who was too busy staring at himself in the mirror. Harry truly believed that the only reason the moron had taken the job at Hogwarts was to force every student to buy all of his books.
One thing Harry had realised is that a few people were still buying into Lockhart's crap. Around half of the female students seemed to be fawning over him still, and surprisingly, Hermione seemed to be one of them. Every time Harry had seen her, she had her head stuck in one of his books. He hoped that she would come to realise what a fool he was sooner rather than later; she was too smart to fall for his bullshit.
But besides classes, it seemed that things weren't getting better for Amelia and Carlisle. After their argument before the start of term, the two seemed to work out Amelia's troubles and start to move on; but once again, it seemed that Amelia's doubt had gotten the best of her. Harry had been sitting with Carlisle in the Great Hall, the two of them discussing the start of Quidditch practise and tryouts when Amelia had stormed in. Her cheeks were tear-stained, and she looked furious.
Carlisle stood from the table as she approached and asked, "Amelia, what happened?"
Amelia didn't answer, but her hand did. It connected with Carlisle's cheek, which quickly turned a violent red from the impact.
"What the hell?" asked Carlisle.
"You are a real bastard, Malfoy," Amelia cried.
The Great Hall had fallen almost silent.
"What did I do?" Carlisle was holding his cheek, clearly confused.
"If you don't want to be with me, then just say so. I would rather not waste my time on you if I don't have to."
Harry watched as his friend's face broke at Amelia's words.
"You think being with me is a waste of time?" Carlisle dropped the hand holding his cheek and clenched his hands.
"Yes, I do," she snapped. "The only good thing about you is your bloody name."
Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing; it didn't sound like Amelia at all.
"Fine. If that's how you feel, I won't waste any more of your precious time." Carlisle turned away from her and sat back down. He didn't meet Harry's eye; he just opened his Potions textbook and looked down at it.
Harry kept his eyes on Amelia and watched as fresh tears fell from her cheeks. He knew that every word had been shit; Amelia loved Carlisle; his family name meant nothing. But before Harry had a chance to stop her, Amelia took off. She marched out of the hall, and seconds later, Jenna chased her.
"You know that everything she just said was crap," said Harry.
Carlisle's jaw clenched. "Stay out of it."
Harry wanted to scoff and whack his friend over the head. "Someone got into her head again. That wasn't her. You know that."
"Do I?" Carlisle's head snapped up. His eyes had welled with tears.
"Yes, you do. Amelia loves you."
"It seemed that she loved my name." Carlisle pushed himself up. He grabbed his books, shoved them into his bag and stormed out of the hall.
Harry didn't know if he should be annoyed at his friend for his stupidity or pity him. Either way, he knew that someone had messed with Amelia, and he was betting on Draco. The younger Malfoy had been acting more smug than normal, and it was time that he had that smirk knocked off his face. But first Harry had to find him.
It wasn't till the Saturday that Harry had the chance to find the youngest Malfoy. Harry was actually heading to the Quidditch pitch to find Harvey when he came across the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch teams standing off, seemingly arguing over the pitch. Harry spotted Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor team glaring at Marcus Flint.
"I booked the pitch for Gryffindor," said Wood.
Flint smirked. "And I have a specially signed note from Professor Snape." He held out the letter. "I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch pitch, owing to the need to train their new Seeker."
Wood rolled his eyes. "Whose this new Seeker?"
Harry spotted the familiar slicked back hair of Draco. His conversation with Harvey could wait; he needed to speak to Draco. He closed the gap and, for the first time, noticed the lack of Carlisle's presence. He should have been at practice with the rest of the team.
"Draco?" Harvey had stepped up between the Weasley twins looking surprised.
Draco smirked a very Lucius smirk and nodded. "Yes, me."
"Lucius Malfoy also made a generous donation to our team," said Flint. He shifted the broom in his hands. A new shining 'Nimbus Two Thousand and One'. "The latest model. Came out last month."
Harry wanted to tell Flint to shut up. A good broom gave anyone an advantage, but speed wasn't everything.
"Harry, what are you doing here?" asked Harvey.
Flint smirk faded to a sneer. "This is a private practice, Black."
Harry returned the look. "I'm not here to watch, Flint. I need to borrow your Seeker."
Draco seemed surprised. "Why?"
Harry grasped his shoulder. "Need a word."
"We need to practice, Black!" called Flint.
Pausing, he looked over his shoulder and said, "With those shiny brooms, you shouldn't need to practice."
Harry led Draco off the pitch and into a changing room. He used a small amount of force to push the younger Malfoy forward, causing him to stumble slightly. Draco glared over his shoulder at him and adjusted his Quidditch uniform.
"What do you want?" asked Draco.
Harry crossed his arms and said, "Have you been telling Amelia things about your brother?"
Draco smirked. "Why? Something wrong in paradise?"
The tone of Draco's voice confirmed everything Harry needed. The brat had been the cause.
Harry said, "You do realise that if Carlisle finds out you are the reason his relationship with Amelia is ruined, he will kill you."
"He wouldn't have the balls. Carlisle is a Mudblood loving loser."
His jaw clenched, as did his fists. Harry glared at the younger Malfoy. "Don't ever use that term again."
"Or what?"
Harry stepped forward and grasped Draco by the front of his shirt. Pulling his wand from his pocket, he pointed it at Draco's throat. "I will make you regret it. Now…Amelia."
"What about her?"
"What did you tell her?"
"I didn't tell her anything. It was her sister."
"What did you say to Pansy?"
"She was bragging about her sister; I decided they needed to be taken down a peg."
"She was proud of her sister, so you thought that ruining your brother's relationship would make you feel better?"
"That was just a bonus."
Harry shoved Draco back. "What did you say exactly?"
"That Carlisle was complaining that he was bored with Amelia, that she wasn't good enough, that he could do better. All of which is utter shit; Carlisle is a waste of anyone's time."
"You must really hate your brother?"
"He doesn't deserve to be the Malfoy heir."
"And you do?"
"Yes. I hope that one day my father will open his eyes and make me his heir."
Harry shook his head. Carlisle was going to kill Draco; if he could get him to believe it first. He also needed to talk to Amelia, help her see some sense too.
The one thing Harry didn't understand was when the relationship between the brother's had changed. For a long time, Draco seemed fond of his older brother; they hung out as all siblings did. There had been times that Harry had watched the two of them and wished that his relationship with Harvey could have been the same. But at some point, Draco had turned; he looked down on his brother, thought less of him. More so now that they were both at Hogwarts, but Harry had wondered if perhaps someone was whispering in his ear.
"Can I go now?" asked Draco. "Or would you like to assault me some more?"
Harry frowned. "You can go, but you will find your brother and tell him the truth. If not, the next time I see him, I will tell him my version, and I am certain that no teacher or parent will stop him from making you regret every word that came from your mouth."
Draco swallowed before nodding and leaving without another word.
Harry knew that Carlisle probably wouldn't do anything other than yell at Draco, but the kid deserved to feel the weight of fear. Neither Amelia nor Carlisle had deserved anything he had caused.
The first quidditch practice of the year had been tense. Harvey hadn't been sure what would happen when the Slytherin Team had shown up. He hadn't admitted it out loud, but seeing all of the Slytherin's flash brand new nimbus 2001 sent dread through him. Harvey knew that his nimbus 2000 gave him a small advantage when it came to speed, but Harry proved that skill was more important even with his older broom. That didn't stop him from being worried. And that wasn't the only thing; Harvey had watched as Harry had dragged Draco off, but now Draco Malfoy was a seeker too. He had never seen the blonde-haired Slytherin play, but Hermione had commented that Draco's father probably brided the team with the brooms for him to be selected.
Practice was cut short, when the Slytherin team refused to leave, with Wood announcing he would speak to Professor McGonagall and get back to us. Harvey took the early freedom to meet up with Hermione and Ron before heading down to Hagrid's. Their half-giant friend had been busy, and they hadn't had a chance to see him much.
They wandered down to Hagrid's hut; Harvey couldn't help but stop to look over at the Whomping Willow. On the first day of classes, Harvey had seen Professor Sprout walking back to the greenhouses after attending to the tree; it had been covered in bandages for days. He hadn't realised how much damage Arthur Weasley's car had actually caused when they had run into the tree. Even though the tree had lashed out at them, almost killing them, Harvey felt bad for it.
As they grew closer to Hagrid's hut, Hermione stopped abruptly and frowned.
"What is it?" asked Ron.
Hermione nodded towards another student. A mousy brown-haired boy that Harvey had seen more than once since the term had started was half hiding behind a tree. In his hands was a camera.
Harvey sighed. "Not again."
"Who is he?" asked Ron.
Harvey was surprised Ron hadn't noticed the boy before. On the first day back, Harvey had the awkward meeting of running straight into the first year who had introduced himself as Colin Creevey. The boy had practically squealed in excitement, taken many photos with his camera, before babbling about get a photograph signed by Harvey once he had it developed. Harvey had been so shocked by the boy that he didn't have time to refuse before he bounced off. It also seemed that Draco Malfoy had perfect timing that day because he had watched the whole interaction, which led to his constant mockery for the rest of the week.
It had seemed that for the past few days, Colin had been occupied and wasn't constantly appearing to taken more photos of Harvey. But it seemed that he now had the time.
"Colin!" yelled Harvey.
The boy tried to hide, but it was too late.
"I know you're there."
Colin stepped out from the tree, holding up his camera, with a sheepish smile on his face. "Hi, Harvey."
"What are you doing?" asked Ron.
"Taking Harvey's picture," said Colin, his tone telling them that it was the only obvious answer.
"Why?" Ron still seemed puzzled.
"Because he's famous." Colin lifted his camera to snap another picture, but Hermione stepped forward and pushed it down.
She said, "Colin, you need to stop this."
Harvey sighed with relief as Hermione spoke.
"Why?" asked Colin. "Professor Lockhart told me that people like him and Harvey love having their picture taken. It's what celebrities do."
Harvey shook his head. "I'm not a celebrity, and I don't want my picture taken."
Colin frowned.
"You are a celebrity, though," said Ron. "You stopped You Know Who when you were barely three months old."
Harvey sighed. "Ron, we don't actually know what happened; no one does. Many things could have happened that night, and don't forget Harry was there too."
"Who's Harry?" asked Colin.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Harvey's older, half brother."
"You have a brother?"
Harvey nodded. "Yeah."
"So you saved him from He Who Must Not Be Named too? Wow! You are amazing!" Colin lifted his camera and snapped another picture.
Harvey frowned and groaned. "Colin, enough." He turned and started heading to Hagrid's again.
"What's the matter, Potter? Your personal paparazzi not getting your good side?" Draco Malfoy stood a few feet away, having just come down the path the trio of friends had come down. He stood there smug, his arms crossed, flanked by Tweedledee and Tweedledum.
"Shut up, Malfoy," said Hermione.
"No one was talking to you, you filthy little mudblood!"
"How dare you!" Ron had charged forward, intending to grab Draco.
"What is going on here?" Hagrid had stepped out of the forest and was walking towards them.
Draco sneered at the half-giant. "None of your business."
"Don't speak to him like that," snapped Hermione.
"Or what?" Draco hissed.
Harvey stepped forward and shoved Draco. "Leave her alone."
"Aww, you've got yourself a girlfriend."
"Enough!" yelled Hagrid. "Mr Malfoy, I think you should return to the castle."
"You can't tell me what to do," said Draco.
"No, but I don't think Professor McGonagall would look to kindly on how you have been talking to Miss Granger."
"Is that a threat?"
Harvey wanted to punch the git. "Just go away, Malfoy."
Draco sneered but turned to leave. "You will all regret this," he called over his shoulder.
"He says that every time but nothing ever happens," said Ron.
"Are you all okay?" asked Hagrid.
Harvey glanced to Hermione, who looked shaken. He reached out to touch her shoulder. "Hermione?"
She nodded and forced a smile, but her eyes showed her hurt.
"He should never have used that word," said Ron.
"What did he say?" asked Hagrid.
Colin, who the friends had forgotten about, piped up and said, "He called her a Mudblood. What's a Mudblood?"
Hagrid's face turned red. "He did not!"
"I don't know what it means," said Hermione, "but I could tell that it was mean."
"It's probably the most insulting thing he could think of," said Ron.
"Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who was Muggle-born," added Harry.
"Some wizard families—like the Malfoy's—think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood," said Ron.
"Is there a difference between Muggle-born and pure-bloods?" asked Colin.
Hagrid shook his head. "No. A families blood means nothing."
"The rest of us know better," said Ron. "Neville Longbottom's a great example—he's a pure-blood and can hardly make a cauldron stand right way up."
Hermione nudged Ron's shoulder. "Don't be mean."
"I was just saying," mumbled Ron.
"And besides," said Hagrid, "I don't think they have invented a spell that our Hermione can't do."
Hermione blushed brightly. "Thanks, Hagrid."
"You're welcome. Want to see what I've been growing?" he asked, changing the subject.
The trio followed Hagrid the rest of his way to Hut. To one side was a large patch of huge pumpkins. The friends were all impressed.
Hermione smirked and asked, "Engorgement charm?"
Hagrid partially blushed. "I was just giving them a helping hand."
Harvey chuckled.
"Your little sister said the same thing," said Hagrid as he turned to Ron. "Met her out here yesterday. Apparently, she was exploring the grounds, but I think she might have been looking to bump into someone." Hagrid winked at Harvey.
Harvey groaned. "Shut up."
Ginny was nice; Harvey liked her. But as Ron's little sister, nothing else.
"Or maybe she'd like a photograph of her own?" Colin appeared again. The boy was still hovering with his camera.
"No," snapped Harvey.
"Oh, don't be too harsh on the boy."
Hagrid, Ron and Harvey all cringed at the sound of Lockhart's voice.
"Professor Lockhart, what are you doing down here?" asked Hagrid.
Lockhart flashed his charming smile. "I thought you might be needing some expertise on your pumpkin growing. I heard that you had grown some for the Halloween feast."
Hagrid cringed. "I think I've got it well in hand."
"Oh," said Lockhart. "If you're certain."
Harvey wanted to try and slip away, possibly into Hagrid's hut, but the blonde-haired Professor grabbed him.
"Now, Harvey. I know I have mentioned it to you before, but remember, the person behind the camera is just as important as the camera itself. You want to make sure that whoever is capturing your picture wants to get your good side." Lockhart flashed a look at Colin, who, in turn, snapped another photo.
"I don't want my photo taken," said Harvey.
"Nonsense."
From their very first meeting in Diagon Alley, Harvey had hated this man. He disliked him even more as a teacher. And he couldn't seem to escape him.
"Harvey, I'm hungry," Ron said, "let's head back to the Great Hall."
Harvey nodded. Anything to get away from Lockhart.
The blonde-haired teacher waved them off but stayed to speak to Hagrid. Harvey felt sorry for their friend but relieved they could get away from him; Colin also stayed behind, seeming to want to listen to Lockhart prattle on.
As they walked back up to the castle, Ron said, "I know I said I'm hungry, and I can always eat, but I just said that to get away from Lockhart."
Harvey smiled. Sometimes Ron could be an idiot, but sometimes he was great. "Thank you."
"I don't know why you both are so against him," said Hermione.
The boys frowned at her.
"What? He was offering advice. That is something a teacher should do," she said.
"He let pixies out and then left everyone else to clean them up," said Ron.
"He was giving us real experience."
"No, he just couldn't handle them," said Harvey.
Hermione huffed.
As they stepped into the Entrance Hall, Professor McGonagall appeared and walked towards them. She said, "Potter, Weasley, you both will do your detentions this evening."
Ron cringed. "What are we doing, Professor?"
"You will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr Filch," she said, "and no magic, Weasley—elbow grease."
Ron gulped.
"And you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail," said McGonagall.
"Oh no—can't I go and do the trophy room, too?" asked Harvey. He would do anything but sit in a room alone with Lockhart.
"Certainly not," said McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. "Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o'clock sharp, both of you."
The rest of Saturday disappeared too quickly. Harvey spent most of his dag dreading the upcoming night of detention and gritted his teeth as he arrived at Lockhart's office door. He knocked and jumped slightly.
The door flew open, and Lockhart beamed down at him. "Ah, here's the scallywag!" he said. "Come in, Harvey, come in."
Harvey had considered what the self-absorbed man's office might look like, and it was even worse than his imagination. There were more photos and paintings of himself in his office than what was in the defence classroom. On a desk, illuminated by candles, was piles of countless framed photographs of Lockhart. A few of them were signed.
Lockhart patted Harvey's shoulder. "You can address the envelopes." He pushed him towards the table. "This first one's to Gladys Gudgeon, bless her—huge fan of mine."
The minutes went by way too slowly. Harvey tried to block out the constant spew of words the came out of Lockhart, only occasionally nodding and saying 'Mmm' and 'Right. Once again, Lockhart went on about fame and what Harvey needed to do better at.
The candles burned lower and lower, and Harvey's hand began to ache all over. It seemed like he had been stuck there forever. He dropped his quill to stretch his fingers when he heard something. A voice. A voice that was ice cold and terrifying.
"Come…come to me…let me rip you…let me tear you…let me kill you…"
Harry jumped, knocking over his pot of ink.
"What?" he cried.
"I know!" said Lockhart. "Six solid months at the top of the bestseller list. Broke all records!"
Harvey frowned. "No, that voice!" he said frantically.
"Sorry?" asked Lockhart, his face puzzled. "What voice?"
"You—you didn't hear it?"
Lockhart looked at Harvey with uncertainty. "What are you talking about, Harvey? Perhaps you're getting a little drowsy? Great Scott—look at the time! We've been here nearly four hours! I'd never have believed it—the time's flown, hasn't it?"
Harvey would have disagreed if he wasn't straining his ears to hear the voice again, but there was nothing other than Lockhart's prattle.
He left the man's office and made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. It was possible that he was just tired, but that voice seemed to echo in his mind. But he knew that hearing voices was strange. As he reached the common room and found Ron exhaustedly draped over the couch, he decided to try and forget about it.
