A Second Chance, A New Start
AN:
Oni: Well, as you can see, another chapter is up!
Eridan: Your revviewws may havve had somethin to do wwith that.
Oni: Yes they did! Also, please don't be upset of this thing doesn't update as frequently as it does right now, I'm taking lines out of the original book now but once it really starts deviating from the original plot then it will take more time to write.
Eridan: Oni does not owwn Harry Potter or Homestuck. This idea, howwevver, is hers.
Oni: And ONWARDS!
The door into the Great Hall stood open at the right. Eridan followed the crowd toward it, but had barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling, which was black and cloudy tonight, when a voice called out.
"Potter! Granger! I want to see you both!"
Eridan searched his memory, and realized that it had to belong to Minerva McGonagall, Head of the Gryffindor House, Deputy Headmistress, and Transfiguration Professor. She was one of the few people that Harry would trust, and Eridan still had a grudging respect for the woman. Professor McGonagall reminded him vaguely of an older version of Maryam in a way, at least with her stern personality. He wondered what she wanted with him, surely he wasn't behaving that strangely… He and Hermione pushed through the crowd to get to her with nervous dispositions.
"There's no need to look so worried — I just want a word in my office," she told them, "Move along there, Weasley."
Ron stared as Professor McGonagall ushered Eridan and Hermione away from the chattering crowd. They accompanied her across the entrance hall, up the marble staircase, and along a corridor. Once they were in her office, a small room with a large, welcoming fire, Professor McGonagall motioned Eridan and Hermione to sit down. She settled herself behind her desk before speaking abruptly.
"Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Potter."
Before Eridan could reply, there was a soft knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, came bustling in. He internally rolled his eyes. By the Empress, he had only fainted; it wasn't as if he died.
…Okay, technically he did, but not as Harry Potter. Besides, who knew how long it had been since he had been sliced in half? Six sweeps? Ten? Or perhaps Paradox Space struck again and he wound up in some other time?
Eridan wasn't an idiot, he knew where he was. This was Earth, the planet he and his friends poured their hearts into making during the game, the centerpiece of Bilious Slick. He knew that the humans he conversed with had just had their own Armageddon, and had more advanced technology than the muggle world Harry Potter lived in. So that meant that he had been placed in a time before that, on Earth before the 'Sburb' humans were probably even born. What a curious thought.
He wondered what these humans would have done if they ever found out what he had given them.
"I'm alright." he said, trying to avoid any words that would show his accent, "I don't need-"
"Oh, it's you, is it?" interrupted Madam Pomfrey, ignoring his words and bending down to stare closely at him, "I suppose you've been doing something dangerous again?"
"It was a Dementor, Poppy," answered Professor McGonagall.
They exchanged a dark look, and Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly.
"Setting Dementors around a school," she muttered, pushing back Eridan's hair (messy and completely black with no violet highlight in sight) and feeling his forehead, "He won't be the last one who collapses. Yes, he's all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate —"
"I am not delicate!" Eridan squawked indignantly.
"Of course you're not." soothed Madam Pomfrey absentmindedly, now taking his pulse.
"What does he need?" asked Professor McGonagall crisply, "Bed rest? Should he perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?"
Eridan forgot how…weak humans were. On Alternia you just pulled yourself up and continued beating the shit out of your enemies. On Earth young humans were coddled every time they fell. At Hogwarts, the coddling was lessened to some degree, as you could actually get seriously injured in this castle (see: Stairs, Fluffy, Dragons, Professor Voldesnore, House Elves, Professor Imbecil Lockhart, Cursed Diaries, Basilisks, and the entire game of Quiddich).
"I'm fine, Professor." Eridan said groaning.
"Well, he should have some chocolate, at the very least," said Madam Pomfrey, who was now trying to peer into Eridan's eyes (they were still green when he checked his reflection in the coach window).
"I'vve already had some," Eridan muttered with narrowed eyes, "Professor Lupin gavve me some. He gavve it to all of us."
"Did he, now?" said Madam Pomfrey approvingly, "So we've finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?"
At the same time as the Mediwitch had said this, McGonagall asked Eridan sharply, narrowing her eyes.
"Are you sure you feel all right, Potter?"
"Yes." he replied testily.
"You were stuttering before, when you were talking about Professor Lupin."
Drat. Why did his accent have to make people think he was unwell?
"I'm fine, Professor." Eridan answered, and gave her a convincing, bright smile.
"Very well." Professor McGonagall said with a sigh, "Kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her course schedule, then we can go down to the feast together."
Eridan was about to leave the room before he stopped. Schedules… Oh right, third years could take elective courses. What did Harry pick now? Something to do with Ron and easy courses…
Divination? Eridan understood prophecy, so any type of foresight was welcome. Care of Magical Creatures? Hm…perhaps I would be rather useful to learn about the magical wildlife. Plus Hagrid's gift to him during the holidays suggested they might be dangerous, and Eridan was not going to miss out on an opportunity to learn how to tame them. He'd never be as good as Nitram with animals, but he might be sufficient enough to use them eventually into battle. There were other electives that were offered, but Harry and Ron wanted to do the minimum amount of work required.
Obviously, Eridan was different. Arithmancy caught his attention when he flipped through the memory of the electives list, and so did Ancient Runes. Muggles studies seemed rather redundant for someone who lived in the muggle world during his summers, but the others held merit.
Perhaps he should talk to the Professor about adding subjects…
"Actually Professor," he started, causing McGonagall to raise an eyebrow at him, "Could I talk to you about my schedule? I w-anted to add tw-o more electiv-es."
There, and he even made sure not to double his Ws. Fortunately, his Head of House did not comment on his strange speech, but instead nodded slowly.
"Alright Mister Potter, what is it that you wanted to add?"
"Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."
Professor McGonagall blinked a couple of times.
"And here I thought you and Mister Weasley were going to put in minimum effort. Very well, Mister Potter, I will add those two courses, but please see me after Miss Granger and I have finished talking. We will have to rework your schedule."
Eridan nodded brightly, and went back into the corridor with Madam Pomfrey, who left for the hospital wing, muttering to herself. He had to wait only a few minutes before Hermione emerged looking very happy about something. The Gryffindor was then beckoned back in, and saw that McGonagall had his schedule out.
"Now, I am going to give you the same talk I had given Miss Granger. With the added two classes, you will have class overlap. Miss Granger, bless her heart, has decided to tackle all the electives offered. While you are Muggle studies, the extra two classes will overlap your first two. Because of this, the school has these in special order."
She held up what looked to be a small hourglass suspended in golden rings, hung on a golden chain. The sand inside the glass was of the purest white, finer than any granule Eridan had ever seen.
"We usually hold these for exceptionally studious Ravenclaws, but it seems both you and Miss Granger will be using these. This is a Time Turner. You hang the chain around your neck and spin this little hourglass to go back in time. One hour per spin, and this particular time turner only allows for you to go back twelve hours in a true twenty four hour period. Remember not to run into yourself whilst reliving the past to get to your other classes, terrible things happen to those who mess with time, Mister Potter. I trust that you will study harder than you have for the past two years and that you don't take advantage of this device. I call easily take it away if I see you abusing it."
Eridan looked at it with wide eyes. A palm sized time machine? How incredibly useful, as long as he didn't use it for nefarious deeds like she warned him against. Perhaps he could get some extra study done with this, perhaps hide in the Chamber of Secrets? He would have to clear out the giant Basilisk corpse, but a quiet reading place would be rather nice…
He carefully took the Time Turner from her hands and nodded to her solemnly.
"I w-on't, Professor, you can trust me."
She gave him a tight smile, a hint of pride flickering across her features. Then Eridan turned around and walked out of the room to where Hermione was waiting patiently, followed by Professor McGonagall, and the three of them made their way back down the marble staircase to the Great Hall. It was a sea of pointed black hats. Each of the long House tables was lined with students, their faces glimmering by the light of thousands of candles, which were floating over the tables in midair. Professor Flitwick, who was a tiny little wizard with a shock of white hair (Eridan wondered in passing if the man was entirely human), was carrying an ancient hat and a three-legged stool out of the hall.
"Oh," said Hermione softly, "we've missed the Sorting!"
Professor McGonagall strode off toward her empty seat at the staff table, and Eridan and Hermione set off in the other direction, as quietly as possible, toward the Gryffindor table. People looked around at them as they passed along the back of the hall, and a few of them pointed at Eridan. Had the story of his collapsing in front of the Dementor traveled that fast? Were their minds so obsessed with the business of others that they couldn't mind their own business?
That was one thing Eridan missed about Alternia, everyone minded their own damn business. This was why most trolls got away with not being culled for simple things, and the reason why nobody caught on of Vantas's true blood color. Everyone was too busy trying to survive the harsh habitat they lived in that paying attention to another's troll's business was considered incredibly rude.
He and Hermione sat down on either side of Ron, who had saved them seats.
"What was all that about?" he muttered to Eridan.
Eridan started to explain in a whisper, but at that moment the headmaster stood up to speak, and he broke off, giving the wizened old man his full attention. Professor Dumbledore, though very old, always gave an impression of great energy. From the amount of times he's been sent to Dumbledore's office, Eridan wondered if it had to do with the amount of sugar he ingested.
Trolls he knew had a high tolerance for sugar, as most of their native fruits were incredibly sweet. As an insect based race, sugar was a large part of their diet, and rarely were there any effects if ingested at a high rate. But humans were different, humans were mammal based. While their diet contains sugar, too much sugar could lead to an excessive energy high before they crashed when that energy ran out.
"Welcome!" chortled Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard, "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…"
The headmaster cleared his throat, and suddenly his expression turned serious.
"As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."
The Ministry was behind this? Eridan looked back at Harry's memories at his most recent stay at Diagon Alley, and picked out the one with Fudge in it. Now that he remembered, the man seemed a little off. Staring at Dumbledore's face, it was evident the man was not happy with this arrangement. Perhaps the Ministry was slowly trying to take control of the school? That was never good.
"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises — or even Invisibility Cloaks," Dumbledore added blandly, and Eridan and Ron glanced at each other, "It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses."
Yep, that definitely sounded like the wrathful angels back on LOWAA, those dirty, rotten…
"I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors,"
Percy, who was sitting a few seats down from Eridan, puffed out his chest again and stared around impressively. Dumbledore paused again in his speech. He looked very seriously around the hall. Nobody moved or made a sound.
"On a happier note," he continued, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clapped hard, Eridan among them. Professor Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes. Perhaps he couldn't afford any? It added to Eridan's theory that the man might have a serious or terminal illness.
"Look at Snape!" Ron hissed in Eridan's ear.
Professor Snape was staring at the new teacher the way Eridan used to stare at Sollux. That was never a good sign for anything. While he understood jealousy, what was between the sallow Potions Master and Professor Lupin must run deeper than that. Because what Snape was giving Lupin was the glare of uncomprehendable loathing. The parallels between the two seemed to disgust the part of him that still hated Snape, while the rest of him couldn't bring himself to care about the man's hatred toward himself anymore. He had been through much worse in his younger life, survived the end of the world, and even fucking died, a man who was strict in a volatile subject and a loathing for a single student was nothing compared to Jack Noir. The only thing Eridan wanted to do was hope that Lupin survived the year without being poisoned by Professor Snape, he seemed to be a competent enough teacher from what he could see from the train.
"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away, "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."
Oh my. Eridan, Ron, and Hermione stared at one another, stunned. Then they joined in with the applause, which was tumultuous at the Gryffindor table in particular, considering the giant of a man used to be one of their own before he was expelled. Eridan leaned forward to see Hagrid, who was as flushed as Karkat in the middle of a touching scene in one of his rom-coms and staring down at his enormous hands, his wide grin hidden in the tangle of his black beard.
"We should've known!" Ron roared, pounding the table, "Who else would have assigned us a biting book?"
The red-haired boy had a point. Only Hagrid would have thought up of something like that. The three of them were the last to stop clapping, happy for their friend, and as Professor Dumbledore started speaking again, they saw that Hagrid was wiping his eyes on the tablecloth.
"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore, "Let the feast begin!"
The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink. It was a delicious feast, as usual. The hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks. Eridan got to experience the strange tastes of human food for the first time since regaining his memories, and was still impressed and amazed by how colorful all the dishes were. Everyone seemed to be taking their time to enjoy their warm meals in light of the coldness that they all felt during the Dementor attack. Eridan, Ron, and Hermione, however, were eager for it to finish so that they could talk to Hagrid. They knew how much being made a teacher would have meant to him. Hagrid wasn't a fully qualified wizard, so it would have taken quite a bit of string pulling to get him that position.
At long last, when the last morsels of pumpkin tart had melted from the golden platters, Dumbledore gave the word that it was time for them all to go to bed, and they got their chance.
"Congratulations, Hagrid!" Hermione squealed as they reached the High Table.
"All down ter you three," said Hagrid, wiping his shining face on his napkin as he looked up at them, "Can' believe it… great man, Dumbledore… came straight down to me hut after Professor Kettleburn said he'd had enough… It's what I always wanted…" Overcome with emotion, he buried his face in his napkin, and Professor McGonagall shooed them away.
Eridan joined the Gryffindors streaming up the marble staircase to the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower, where a large portrait of the Fat Lady asked them in a sleepy tone.
"Password?"
"Coming through, coming through!" Percy called from behind the crowd, "The new password's Fortuna Major!"
"Oh no," mumbled Neville Longbottom sadly.
He always had trouble remembering the passwords. Eridan felt a little sorry for him, so he sidled up to where the shy Gryffindor was standing dejectedly.
"Hey Nev-ille," he whispered and the boy looked up at the mention of his name, "Fortuna Major means 'Greater Fortune' in Latin, like most of our passwords. Think about it this w-ay, w-e all w-ant a greater fortune at the start of the year. Do you think you can remember it that w-ay?"
"Yeah..." Neville replied with a small smile, before looking at Eridan worriedly, "Are you alright though, Harry? You're talking weird. The Dementor must have done a number on you."
Apparently fixing his double letter accent wasn't enough, he'll practice his speech problem in the morning.
"Yeah, I'm fine." he replied with a smile of his own.
Through the portrait hole and across the common room, the girls and boys divided toward their separate staircases. Dean, Seamus, Ron and Neville all changed into their night clothes mechanically before collapsing into their beds and shutting their curtains. Eridan followed suit as he changed into his pajamas, but realized when he laid in his bunk with the curtains drawn tight that he was wide awake.
Thoughts were zooming in his mind, as usual, and Eridan cursed the fact that his insomnia had carried over. This most certainly would not do in a study-heavy environment like Hogwarts, so he ended up laying on his back, staring at the roof of his bunk, breathing in slow, measured paces. He cleared his mind, and entered the familiar room decorated in violet. Walking over to the bookcases, he sorted the books on the new information he had gathered, one book for Dementors, one for Professor Lupin, and one for Time Turners. Then he took the first book dictating Harry's life and settled down in one of his mind-chairs to read.
Three hours into the night and he had skimmed the entire bookshelf's worth, and breathed a sigh of relief. At least now he was up to date with everything once more, and didn't have to frantically search the shelf just to find simple answers that he as clueless Harry Potter could easily recall. His mind began to wander to other things, like what had happened to the others. How much time had passed? Was it even possible? Did he even want to attempt it? Kanaya had made it pretty clear that he was about as welcome as Jack Noir on the meteor.
Speaking of his killer, he wondered what she was doing now. Last time he had seen her, she had smashed Serket in the face, kicked Makara in the bonebulge, snapped his science stick (what was that thing, really?) and cut him in half with her chainsaw. Granted, all three of them had sins to answer for. Serket had killed Nitram, Makara had murdered both Zahhak and Leijon, and he had blinded Captor (stupid pissblood wanted a fight and he lost, what was the deal in that?), shot Peixes through the sternum (she was trying to run him through with her trident, that was self-defense), destroyed the Matriorb and shot Maryam through the stomach (okay, he would admit, that was uncalled for). But Eridan was a little miffed at the fact that his punishment did not fit the crime in light of his other sinner friends.
All Vriska got was a punch to the face and she murdered a paraplegic pacifist in cold blood. Knowing Equius, he wouldn't have put up a fight and Nepeta was not as strong as the purple blooded maniac. What did Gamzee get? A kick to the groin. He accepts a duel from Sollux and wins (he was only blinded too, and Terezi managed just fine) and suddenly he's had to act quickly and defend himself from his ex-moirail. Then he saw Kanaya reach for her lipstick and he decided to make her pay for even thinking about trying to fight him, but unfortunately that just riled her up even more.
He made sure she knew that going against him was a terrible idea by beaming her through the stomach.
When he came across Vriska, he was ready to kill her for all the wrongs she had committed against him and everyone else, and she had come to him for the reverse reason. Then Gamzee tried to throw a monkey wrench into the duel by arriving, and then they all got their shit kicked out by a newly resurrected Rainbow Drinker who was literally and figuratively out for blood.
Thinking about his past life as a troll started to make his brain hurt, and Eridan started to wonder if reminiscing about the past was doing anything good at all. As far as he knew, he had died on a sour note with each of his friends, deceased or alive. Were any of the others here? He doubted it. So in essence Eridan had been given second chance, a fresh start.
Albeit a fresh start as Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Crazy Lucked Wizard, but a start nonetheless.
That had to count for something, Eridan thought as his eyelids finally fluttered closed in slumber.
AN:
Oni: And that's all for now folks! Thanks to all who have followed, favorited, and reviewed this story!
Eridan: And here is some questions for you, wwill anyone catch onto Harry/My strange behavvior? If so, wwho first? Wwhat are the other trolls doing? Wwhat should happen in the future?
Oni: Tell us in the reviews!
Eridan: And wwe shall see you next time...
Oni: My Pretties!