Hey everyone! Welcome back to another update. I hope you all enjoy it.
Just a reminder, we are getting closer to the first task and the champions are, Ares Flamel, Hardwin Potter, Fleur Delacour, and Viktor Krum.
13K chap for those that like to know
And thank you very much to my Beta, WriteVWrong. Much appreciated especially since you were under the weather :)
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-=REVISED 7/20/2023=-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
I had some time and thought I thought I'd do some simple revisions-mostly grammar stuff, but also including changing the narrative from present tense to simple past tense. Hopefully, it's a better read this way.
Enjoy!
More With Honey
"Settle down my young pupils, settle," Dolores began in her impossibly childish voice. "Well, looking throughout this room, I'm sure we're all going to be just the very best of friends."
At his desk in the middle of the Slytherin side of the room, Harry wanted to throw up already, but he kept control. He needed to, or he couldn't predict how bad the aftermath might be if he lost control of his magic. Sensing her master's distress, Nova softly sang from upon the bird stand between him and Daphne. Only those nearby could hear it, affecting them with a calming serenity as well. Daphne even placed a comforting hand on Harry's forearm, offering him a small smile, further helping Harry calm down as the vile, squat of a square woman continued her nauseating agenda.
"The time has come for proper Ministry-approved guidance in Defense Against the Dark Arts to be reinstated in these hallowed halls. I am Dolores Umbridge, Chief Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, our dearest friend, Cornelius Fudge, and your new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor." She took a moment to gaze daintily around the large rectangular room, through the rows of Gryffindors and Slytherins. Landing on the Gryffindors, she went on to explain, "I can see in your inquisitive eyes, some of you are aware that I am now acting in both capacities. A meaningful distinction to note, as it means a secure and safe learning environment for all of you. No more silly hubbubs while the ministry is here!" she exclaimed with a bubbly posture that induced Harry's gag reflex.
Harry surveyed the den of students and sure enough, no matter how creepy they might think the fluffy pink toad is, the prospect of safety was far too enticing to ignore. Lavender and Parvati were even smiling comfortingly to each other. Harry recalled stopping a dark curse from hitting Lavender during his brawl with Crouch Jr, and so couldn't entirely blame her or the others for wanting to be safe in the 'safest' school in Britain.
Umbridge's eyes squared on Harry's when she pointed out to the class, "It also has the added benefit of extending law into Hogwarts under my fair judgment. Why, in some ways, my word holds more clout than that of our illustrious Headmaster's." She widened her focus to the entirety of the class, continuing, "And rightly so, I should think. Much like a parent is responsible for their child, or a minister is responsible for his constituents, a Headmaster is ultimately responsible for your education, and more importantly, your safety; a task, I must sadly admit, Headmaster Dumbledore has grown far too lax to properly meet."
"Bu- But, none of that was his fault," Harry heard Hardwin announce in Dumbledore's defense. "He couldn't have known any of that would happen."
Baring her gawky eyes on Hardwin, her lips tightened to a line before her childish voice responded, "Our nation's most precious resource attend this school for seven years before it becomes their time to contribute. Until that time, it falls upon the responsible institutions to safeguard your well being as you learn to be productive members of society. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Potter, that a parent should do everything they can to protect their child from all dangers, whether they are aware of them or not?"
Harry's mind immediately conjured images of his long-dead parents, and he could imagine it was the same, or worse, for Hardwin. The Gryffindor Potter lagged for a slight moment longer to reply, and Umbridge tagged on, "It must seem quite unfair to you for me to place any blame on the head of the school, what with how much Headmaster Dumbledore seems to favor Gryffindor, awarding you all with points at the end of every year to ensure you win the House Cup, while he so casually takes them from Slytherin."
Immediately, Harry witnessed fierce house loyalty divide the room.
"He's heralded as one of the strongest wizards of this century," Umbridge continued. "And yet a student- a Slytherin student has had to bare the unwarranted burden of protecting lives that are Headmaster Dumbledore's duty to safeguard. Seems strange, doesn't it?" Many of the students were still glaring openly at each other, recalling how House Slytherin were still in a deficit, regardless of the lives Ares saved, while Gryffindor led the school in points. "Hem, Hem," Umbridge fake coughed, drawing more attention as she repeated, "doesn't that seem strange?"
Some nodded while Pansey called out, "It's unfair to have a Headmaster who shows such blatant favoritism!" Adding to that, Nott stated, "Either Dumbledore's lying about how strong he is, or he just doesn't want to be bothered to save us!"
"That's bullocks and you know it, you slimy snake!" Hardwin yelled toward Nott, and Ron was up on instinct ready to back his best mate when he recalled their feud, abruptly shutting his mouth, retaking his seat with a glancing glare toward Hardwin. With additional irritation, Hardwin added, "Dumbledore's the strongest wizard in this castle, and he'd even save you miserable lot!"
"It's been one cock-up after another though, hasn't it?" Nott spat back
An incredibly insistent, "HEM-HEM," called the ruffled students attention again. "Now now, we're all friends here," Umbridge announced, though Harry could hear how hollow her insincere words were. "While the Headmaster may seem callous in his affection toward the House of the Cunning, I feel it is only fair that I award Slytherin five hundred points for Mr. Flamel's distinguished acts of bravery, gallantry, and overall heroism for saving the lives of many in distress at great risk to his own life."
'She's trying to buy the Slytherins to her side,' Harry easily reasoned, recalling the Inquisitor Squad from his timeline and how they were mostly made up of Slytherin.
Elated with mob-emotion, Nott led the charge in clapping for righteous justice—if not necessarily for Harry—easily gathering applause from the majority of the other Slytherins. Arms crossed, intently glaring at Umbridge, Harry didn't reflect his housemates' spirit or motion. Draco followed Harry's lead, and Tracey seemed to take the hint when Daphne didn't join as well. Watching the small glint of satisfaction in her eye, Harry realized that though he had insulted or ignored her twice that he could remember, he was a Slytherin this time around, and they were her favorite base of natural supporters.
"She doesn't seem so bad," Daphne commented near enough for Harry to hear, to which he responded, "you catch more flies with honey." She nodded in understanding, and oddly enough, without needing to explain more, he could feel she was completely on his side, no matter how reasonable Umbridge was presenting herself.
When Umbridge targeted the Gryffindor hardliners who refused to acknowledge a Slytherin—regardless of deeds of bravery—she innocently asked, "Do you not support a brave wizard who saved lives? Is this how your Headmaster would like his students to behave toward one another?"
Harry could tell some of the Gryffindors—Seamus, Dean, Lavender, and Parvati—were unsure and near close to clapping, while Romilda and Eloise had already succumbed to peer pressure, though they looked slightly ashamed to do so. Hardwin and Ron held firm, but cornered, and rather than let it continue, Harry raised his hand, silencing his side of the room.
"Oh, yes, of course, Mr. Flamel. I invite you to say a few words," the square toad happily beamed.
"Yeah, are you running for Head of Slytherin House, or were you planning on teaching anything anytime soon?" Harry asked with a believable measure of exhaustion, though jarring enough to silence the room. All eyes were either wearily looking at Umbridge or in stunned awe of him. It was an uncommon sight for a student to be so confrontational with a professor. "Cuz I'm a bit knackered and could use a touch of sleep."
"…My, my, young man," she beamed in a forced higher pitch. "How very neglectful of your parents, to be so unaware of the proper etiquette required of your station," Umbridge stated with extra sugar in her already disgusting voice. "It isn't your fault, I should think. As your instructor and a ministry official, let me be absolutely clear in stating that rudeness will not be tolerated. That will be your first and last warning."
'In for a penny...' Harry's mind mused as he returned, "as I've told Headmaster Dumbledore, I don't care for this arbitrary personality-based point system any more than I care for house rivalries. Award or take as many points as you want, professor. I guarantee you it won't matter if anyone in this classroom—in this school—ever wants to properly defend themselves from mad tyrants like Voldemort-" most in the class shuddered, but Harry ignored it as he continued, "or his cronies."
"Mr. Flamel!" Umbridge blared in her sickeningly sweet childish tone. Though focused on her, Harry did notice Hardwin's stunned sights set on him. Friendship with Hardwin was far more possible if he made his distaste for Voldemort public, hopefully bridging the wide gap between the chasm that is Slytherin and Gryffindor. "Sanctions! I cannot allow you to bring unwarranted fear and panic into my classroom or this castle. I will not have it, young man!"
Before Harry could say more, Daphne quickly cut in, "Perhaps you can tell us about these new textbooks, professor?"
The touch of concern Harry saw in her crystal blue eyes ended his next biting retort.
"Yes… Yes, of course, Miss Greengrass," Umbridge agreed, plastering her stretched smile on her face. "To reiterate, we are safe under the Ministry's watchful presence. I'm certain you would all agree a new curriculum certainly requires a new instructional manual. Now, I would like us all to ponder the importance that is Ministry-Approved defense. These ancients skills born within us, unique to the wizarding community, must be passed down the proper members of every generation, lest we lose what distinguishes us forever. If everyone has their natural place, why waste unnecessary time and effort teaching defense to a witch or wizard whom may have no better qualifications than a shopkeeper, or a stay at home spouse?" she asked.
When no answer was forthcoming from the confused students, she continued, "No, no, the noble profession of teaching must be efficient when we consider who is worthy of the treasure trove that is this knowledge. As such, I've prepared this curriculum to best narrow down those among you with the necessary attributes to succeed in Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Isn't that what grading determines for all," Daphne asked, her hand up, though quickly scanning through the book.
"Please wait to be called before speaking, dear," Umbridge staunchly corrected.
After flipping through one useless page after another, Daphne raised her hand once again and waited to be called upon. However, Umbridge only responded with the faintest shake of her flabby head, while crunching her wide nose. She continued, "I know how seductive it can seem to bravely hoist your wand toward evil and fight the good fight, however as we've seen these past few months, children ought not be burdened with such responsibility. You are all safe now and within proper care. As such, a rudimentary level of defense is all that is needed to brave the few unsavory moments one may experience in life. For those that excel in defense, trust that I will acknowledge you."
"This is the opposite of education," Daphne whispered to Harry. "She's purposely dumbing us down." Harry nodded absentmindedly, choosing to think about befriending Hardwin rather than waste any more breath on Umbridge.
Quickly skimming through long-winded explanations on how to point a wand, Daphne could easily tell this education would do nothing to challenge a novice wizard on Defense, let alone a wizard of Ares' caliber. Turning enough of her gaze on a somewhat zoned-out Ares, she couldn't help but remember her assertion to Hermione; what they had agreed on in order to help their friend: Education and antagonists. Looking at the squat figure wrapped in ostentatious fluffy pink, Daphne felt a firm stance was necessary, not only for the boy sitting next to her, but for her future as well. Quelling her rising nerves to fortify a strong mask of calmness, Daphne slowly stood to her feet, her chair scratching the floor and drawing the surrounding students' attention.
"Please take your seat, Miss Greengrass," Umbridge commanded with her childish tone.
"I cannot, professor," she started, securing her composed mask despite the rapid beat of her heart. After facing Acromantula, this should be nothing but, it was a different type of nerves. Daphne didn't gravitate toward the spotlight. Much like her chosen profession, she preferred to work covertly. But if she must, then she must.
Daphne clearly stated, "If this is the updated educational level of fourth-year Defense Against the Dark Arts, I insist on testing out of this course."
"Unacceptable," Umbridge gasped, as the room erupted in mild whispering. "Not by any means will I ever agree to this- this folly, young lady! Now take your seat!"
While a curious Harry watched on, Daphne's cold imposing figure didn't budge as she said, "I will petition my Head of house, the deputy Headmistress, the Headmaster, the Governors, the Minister of Magic if need be, to avoid wasting hours of my valuable education on material first-year students already enter Hogwarts with. This textbook seems to exalt the theory that the only way to learn is secure and risk-free, which is, of course, impossible."
"Miss Greengrass-" Umbridge tried but was interrupted.
"There's a chapter entitled, 'Non-Retaliation and Negotiation,'" Daphne continued. "Another entitled, 'The Case for Non-Offensive Responses to Magical Attack.' This is Defense Against the Dark Arts, professor, and yet it seems as if you'd like to discourage the use of any defense against any dark art."
"Fifty points deducted from Slytherin!" Umbridge called with a credible measure of ire creeping into her sickeningly sweet tone. "For disrupting class with pointless interruptions. If you don't take your seat this instance and refrain from undermining my authority as your professor and ministry official, not only will you serve multiple detentions, but I will be speaking with your head of house for further suitable punishments."
Daphne didn't hesitate, and waited a moment to answer, "No. It may not seem like it professor, but it isn't my wish to interrupt your lesson any more than it's my wish to waste my time on a mediocre course. I simply know with a hundred percent accuracy that I will pass any test that stems from this book. Until you've prepared the final exam for me to take, I'll commit to self-study."
Daphne began to move around a surprised Harry, intent on exiting the classroom when an indignant Umbridge howled, "You will do no such thing! No doubt you feel what lunacy expelled Professor Binns will happen here, but you would be gravely mistaken. You will take your seat this instant, or I can assure you the consequences you'll face will permeate well beyond these walls to your very career. You would do well to recall I am not simply a professor of Dark Arts, subject to the Headmaster's scrutiny. I am also the Undersecretary of the Ministry of Magic, and if you ever wish to be anything more than a groundskeeper, you will do as you are told!"
A tense moment held in near eternity for Daphne and all the other students. Her quick mind easily conceived all the possible repercussions in the aftermath of this course of action, and the heavy toll this could have on her future. Worst still, how this decision might affect her sister. A decent amount of her father's business was with the Ministry, and should he ever vent out his displeasure, she couldn't help but picture a crying Astoria taking the brunt of his ire.
The other students were quite surprised and silent. Regardless of her house, Gryffindors found her just as attractive as any boy from any other house, and now she was standing up to a professor for a better education. More challenging schoolwork would be repulsive to many of the boys if she wasn't so attractive. Many of the girls didn't mind seeing the Ice Queen of Slytherin get burned.
Standing full to height, and getting between professor and student, Harry eagerly talked back, "She only asked to test out, an option I know for certain is available since the Headmaster, the Deputy Headmistress, as well as my Head of House offered me the same thing not long ago. Whether you agree with it or not, it's a sensible request, and if this year's shown us anything, it's that defense against the dark arts is far more important than you or this staff clearly cares to credit it. Since Champions are exempt from finals anyway, I'll just leave in support of my friend."
"Neither of you are going anywhere!" Umbridge yelled, taking an aggressive step forward, extracting her wand in the process. "It's clear to me you both pose a dangerous element to the security of this castle."
Harry's deathly white wand snapped into place with a flick of his wrist. Though Umbridge had hers pointed at them, Harry didn't feel the need to bring his up. Drawing the most attention in the moderately lit room was the bright glow of his killing-curse, green eyes, fierce in their glare. Some stared stunned at the rumored Green Reaper from the Prophet, while others quickly moved toward the walls of the class away from the spell path. "Your only two options are diplomacy or force," Harry told her with a smirk. "And neither one will end well for you... professor." They stared each other down, though, with his magic sight, he could see how her magic hesitated in its patterned motion.
Abruptly, Draco stood, catching a few nervous students off guard, turned to Tracey, who then decided to stand as well, and they both started to leave. The silver-blonde announced, "I'll opt to test out, too. Be outside." Not to be outdone, Zabini—who's magic seemed irate to Harry—trailed after, then Nott did followed by Crabbe and Goyle, and the rest of Slytherin. Harry doubted they truly wanted to test out, reasoning Slytherin's motto to always support the house was the likely cause for their walkout.
'Khan would be proud,' Harry mused.
"This will not go unpunished," Umbridge slowly proclaimed, her cold sadism overshadowing the child-like tone of her voice.
"Looking forward to it," Harry eerily mused. His glowing green eyes left her and only faded once he left the classroom and walked down the Serpentine corridor to the stairs leading off the third floor where a group of mostly worried Slytherins were waiting for him.
"We walked out on a professor!" Nott remarked in disbelief. "What are we going to do?"
"If we get expelled, I blame you," Parkinson started, pointing at Harry. "The House of Flamel better compensate my house if my education and future suffer because of this!"
"Oh, will you stuff it, Parkinson," Draco threw out, clearly feeling the wounds she inflicted in their previous timeline. " It's not as if you were forced. If you didn't want to leave, you didn't have to. Go ahead and claim house loyalty if you want, but at the end of the day, your decisions are your own."
"No, seriously," Nott asked with more force. "What are we going to do? This isn't like Binns. He didn't much notice or care. This is a ministry official who even gave us back our house points!"
"I'm sure that's gone now," Tracey mused.
"Listen," Daphne called out, gathering their attention. "I take full responsibility, however, I fully intend on testing out of this course, unless they change the curriculum to something that's not a complete waste of time."
"It would've been the easiest Outstanding we've ever gotten!" Nott argued.
"And an easy death when the time came to use that knowledge to protect yourself," Daphne returned, and for the first time, Harry wondered about the merits of this coup. It may not have been worth it if it kept future Death Eaters just dumb enough to kill. If anything, this class was specially made for other students to protect themselves from Slytherin. On the other hand, another logical part of his mind answered, 'Once you've killed Voldemort, there won't be a Death Eater squad for them to join in the first place.'
"In the meantime, I think Ares should teach us defense," Zabini stated near to the point of accusation, as if daring the Slytherin prodigy to decline. Most of the sheep were on board with any direction the mob took while Daphne, Draco, Tracey, Nott, and Parkinson looked between the two boys. "After everything we've seen, who better to supervise this… study group?"
"Yeah!" Nott imposed. "You can show us some of your wicked curses." Many of them seemed to enjoy that idea, smiling and nodding at the suggestion. Even without his magic sight, Harry could at least interpret Zabini's nomination as disingenuous. He clearly had something to prove.
"I don't want to," Harry easily stated, earning a few groans of disapproval from the group. The last thing he wanted to do was teach Slytherins.
"What could you possibly be scared of?" Zabini asked. "It's just a study session until this is resolved. Or could it be you're all snakeskin, but no snake? You wear our colors, you have our pedigree, but deep down, you'd rather be in Ravenclaw or bloody Gryffindor."
With all the different angles of mounting conflict, Harry's mind dealt with—the diary, the goblins, the ministry, the shade in the forest, making certain everyone survived the tournament this time, or Dumbledore's interference—this back alley schoolyard rules didn't even muster an ounce of interest within him; especially in his tired state. His single point of interest—that didn't involve his mission—was how to tell Daphne, and—to his great astonishment—Hermione, that allowing feelings to grow between them would only end up hurting them; a thought that once again led him to Fleur and her searing warm lips…
"Ares?" Harry heard Draco call, bringing him out of his thoughts.
Harry looked at a confused Draco, then to the others watching him, letting on that they were all waiting for his response. Somewhat embarrassed for zoning out, Harry cleared his throat, but before he could address them, the door to the classroom creaked open, and out walked Hardwin Potter, heading down the corridor toward them.
"Isn't daddy Dumbledore going to get mad at his little golden boy for ditching class?" Pansy called out.
Hopping right on her comment and cutting off Hardwin, Harry responded with enough force to draw all their attention. "Gryffindors don't have a monopoly on courage and bravery, nor does Slytherin have ownership over cunning and ambition, Ravenclaw on intelligence and wit, or Hufflepuff on hard work and loyalty. Those are attributes absolutely anyone can have. You think acromantula give two shits what house you're from? Fuck no, they'll eat you all the same. If I were you, I'd be more worried about why this faculty keeps approving these subpar courses of education, rather than how a color offends your delicate allegiances. I mean, is there actually a criterion for hiring these professors, or are they completely fine keeping you stupid?"
"All the more reason to teach us," Zabini called.
"Would you be willing to be friends with Potter?" Harry asked, nodding toward Hardwin, still registering a trickle of weirdness when using his last name but not identifying with it.
"Are you having a laugh?" Zabini leveled, followed quickly by Nott stating, "That's bloody mental!"
"Get stuffed!" Hardwin harshly told them, despite being surrounded by 'enemies.' "I'd rather cuddle with a Blast-Ended Skrewt!"
"Then there you have it," Harry told the group loudly enough to stop the insults. "You can't even consider the possibility of friendship with your own school's Champion. Why would I want to teach you anything as a wizard when you're unwilling to be a decent bloke to begin with."
"That's rich coming from a murderer?" an irate Nott threw out, looking menacingly at Harry.
"You referring to your uncle, Nott?" Harry leveled with dead apathy. "The one in Death Eater garb tormenting and torturing the Beauxbatons' Champion, Fleur Delacour, and her sister? Him?" Nott didn't say anything, and Harry quickly added, "If you want to hurt people, that's fine. Just don't be surprised if the abuse you're so happy to dish out to others is stopped with extreme prejudice. If you care to express any further outrage about your uncle, I'm always happy to settle them."
Every single student standing there had either seen firsthand or were told how deadly serious Harry could be when it came to defense, and more importantly, that it was always in defense. Further known within Slytherin, the general consensus was he wasn't cruel or eager for combat, despite how much stronger he clearly was. So it was unsurprising when Harry eyed Nott heavily, as if perfectly fine to leave it as is, or fight if need be.
"He wasn't a favorite in the family to begin with," Nott conceded, stepping back. Harry couldn't imagine Nott was fine with his uncle's death but imagined Nott was smart enough to leave well enough alone until 'Ares' dropped his guard and he could strike. Harry expected it, someday.
"Did I just hear what I think I did?" Zabini asked, interrupting them. "You won't help your own house, but you're all about the Boy-Who-Lived? You're willing to be friends with Dumbledore's Golden Butt-Boy but can't be bothered to teach us a thing or two?"
"Sod off you manky ankle biter!" Hadwin cursed back.
"It doesn't have to be Potter," Harry shouted over Hardwin to the Slytherins. "Make friends with any Gryffindor and I'll consider a brief study session on defense."
"You must be out of your bloody-" Zabini started to say when Harry cut him off.
"Fine you ninny, I'll start," Harry stated to all before turning to his confused looking brother. "Nova needs to stretch her wings. Interested?" The Slytherin watching blanch at the sight, Nott gasped, but everyone held their tongue.
"What does a phoenix flying need me for?" Hardwin sarcastically asked.
"I can let you borrow my Firebolt and you can try to catch her if you want," Harry answered nonchalantly. "Though, I oughta warn you, it's impossible. She's way faster than you." Unsure if it was the chance to ride a firebolt, the chance to see a phoenix fly up close, or the blatant dare that he couldn't catch said Phoenix, but Hardwin gave the barest of nods before rushing down the stairs toward the castle entrance.
"Blood traitor," Pansy pointedly accuses him, followed by Nott's, "You are a snakeskin!"
"Oddly enough, I can live with that," Harry quickly asserted without care. "If any of you want to learn anything from me, you know what to do."
Harry was followed by Draco, Tracey, and Daphne until they were close to the entrance of the castle. It was then when Daphne informed Harry, "I'll leave you here." He turned to her, confused, to which she held up Umbridge's book, relaying, "I need to read this stock of kindle to be certain I can actually test out. Plus, I can't imagine Professor Snape is going to be happy about this."
"Just leave Snape, McGonagall, and Headm-"
"No," Daphne interrupted Harry with the slightest smirk. "I really meant it when I said I'll take responsibility. You just leave this to me, and I'll take care of it."
"Uh, are you sure?" Harry tentatively asked. "I don't mind."
Daphne gifted him with her most confident smile, a beautiful event that made him spontaneously wonder if her lips were as soft as Fleur's. Fortunately, she left before his blushing cheeks gave away his unwelcome thoughts. Shaking his dome a bit, Harry turned to ask Draco with a questioning look.
Draco only responded, "I don't want to be around a Potter, so I'm leaving."
"I'll join you," Tracey honestly said.
"Damn right you will," Draco wolfishly repeated. Pink-cheeked and hiding her smile, Tracey followed him into the school.
"I didn't agree to this because I wanted to watch your Phoenix or ride a Firebolt," Hardwin started from behind him. As they walked out into the field, the publicly known Potter continued. "Uncle Sirius promised to get me one as soon as my Nimbus 2001 breaks."
"So why'd you agree?" Harry asked, as Nova took off into the muggy grey skies. Content to walk forward so neither one was looking directly at each other, Harry tacked on, "It'd have to be something big for you to agree to talk to a Slytherin."
"...I don't get you," Hardwin threw out. "It's so obvious you don't care about blood superiority or picking on the weak. That Ravenclaw girl you sit with, Granger, is muggle-born, the very status your entire house despises, yet you sit with her. Slytherin is the last place you should be in."
"Or maybe it's the best place," Harry casually returned.
To his surprise, Hedwig descended from the skies, silent as a feather, and landed on his outstretched forearm; her claws didn't numb the pain of her grip but he didn't mind. For her, he'd take it. She hooted at him, and Harry had the strong inclination that she was sorry for delivering the Howlers.
He petted her affectionately, telling her, "It's okay. I know you didn't intend to." She stayed with him as they walked the grounds. "If you really believe blood superiority is hogwash, don't you think you'll have the greatest success in promoting your message in the place where it doesn't exist? I mean, how would Slytherins really believe the message spoken from outside their camp?"
"Is that what you're doing, then? Trying to make them see how wrong they are from within?"
"Fuck no," Harry spat, sensing a building feeling he couldn't describe slowly creep into the heart of his mind and chest. "I'm not here to change anyone's mind on anything. I'm just not the type to roll over when they're the ones in the wrong." Harry took deep, slow breaths, thoughts of his avian companion recalled his past, constricting his chest slightly. Curious about Hardwin's motive, Harry asked, "Are you going to show this conversation to Dumbledore? I imagine he's the one who urged you to be friends with me. He's wanted that since he first heard my name."
"No, he hasn't," Hardwin asserted with no conviction. "…Well, yeah, I guess. Though, I have no idea why! I mean, you're a Slytherin!"
"Bloody hell. It's like a broken record. Are every single one of you enchanted or something?" Harry asked with exhausted disbelief. "If I leave Slytherin and join any other house, would you suddenly change your opinion of me?"
"Yes! They're all snakes," Hardwin asserted, and Harry would've agreed if not for Daphne and sweet little Astoria. "Most of them are Death Eaters in training. Their master is responsible for my father's murder! And you expect me to hold hands and sing songs with those wankers!"
"I wouldn't quite say hold hands and sing songs," Harry returned. "But none of those children killed …your dad." Cognizant of his near mistake, Harry takes a quick breath. "Voldemort killed him."
"And they supported him," Hardwin maintained. "They may as well have!"
"And yet, I, a Slytherin, am going to kill him," Harry asserted, training murderous eyes on Hardwin. "What's your point?"
It was enough to surprise Hardwin, to pull him up short. "You... I really don't... What do you mean you're going to kill him? His supporters? Is it true you actually killed those Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup?"
"Are you going to show this memory to Dumbledore?" Harry repeated, continuing their aimless trek through the cold field.
"Worried about going to Azkaban?" Hardwin posed curiously. "Most everyone I talk to are in open debate. You ask me, I feel all murderers should go to Azkaban, but if you actually want to stop Voldemort's supporters without going away for it, Dumbledore is the only way to do that. Since I'm close with him, it would be better for you to answer my questions."
"I don't want to stop Voldemort's supporters," Harry corrected. "I want to kill Voldemort, and that's exactly what I mean. I'm asking if you're going to show him the memory because it seems like he's withheld information from you that you may, or may not want to confront him about."
"What information?" Hardwin asked. "And what do you mean you're going to kill Voldemort? He's already dead. The only thing about him that's alive are his supporters, who are still trying to kill me."
"Tom Riddle," Harry stated, feeling a little better at the thought of blowing up the pedestal Hardwin had placed Dumbledore on. He continued, "I said Tom Riddle in a room of people who should definitely know that name, especially the Potters." Hardwin looked at him extremely confused, a million questions right on the tip of his tongue, yet silent. Flicking his wand in his grasp, Harry continued after Hardwin's lack of response, "There's an anagram that'll help." If Hardwin had entered the Chamber of Secrets their second year, he certainly would've learned the name Tom Marvolo Riddle. Thus, conjuring swirling smoke that turned into fiery letters, he rearranges the letters as he remembered, and quite unexpectedly, it triggered a rash of memories to torment his mind.
Being in the Chamber, Ginny on the ground—nearly dead—as he fought a gigantic basilisk, and recalling the piercing agony of its sharp fang stabbing through his arm. The memories didn't lack in any detail. The thickly red blood that flowed from his arm easily reminded him of Ron's bloody death. Bellatrix took special care of the entire Weasley family, and she loved her knives nearly as much as psychological trauma, forcing a Weasley member to do unspeakable cruelties to another member until they went insane and were ultimately murdered. Harry couldn't breathe as the memories overran his mind's eye.
He felt motion akin to falling, unsubstantial leg pain, a foggy concept of his arm extending, sweat, shaking, and shortness of breath, all the while faintly hearing himself praying, "Stay away. Stay away."
Try as he might, it felt like an eternity before Harry's promise to keep them all safe this time cleared the tormenting fog of memories. Repeating his mantra until he believed that everyone would be all right as long as he killed Voldemort, he eventually regained control of his sanity and breathing. With the flood of relief, he came to realize he was inertly heavy on his knees, sitting on his heels with Nova on his shoulder, singing her calming enchanted song. Hedwig was on the ground, nipping affectionately at his right hand bracing himself up.
Feeling the moist cold on his face, Harry knew tears had poured forth unabashed. He then noticed Hardwin's concerned expression and overall posture. The hazel-eyed Potter seemed to be on the brink of running but couldn't quite make it more than a few steps. Harry got up before he was ready to, but held his wobbly balance well enough, all the while Nova and Hedwig continued to be comforting. It was awkward between the brothers. The silence stretched, giving Harry more time to gather his bearings as he rubbed his arm in the exact place Slytherin's basilisk sunk its large fang in.
"Does that happen often?" Hardwin carefully asked.
"…More than I'd like," Harry eventually answered.
"Mum reckons you've probably had a rough go of it," Hardwin slowly divulged. "Probably harder than my own, or at least different than me. Truth be told, she's the one who reckons I should give you a chance. She reckons you're different. Plus, she loves your parents. So, if you must know, I agreed to this because of her. I hadn't actually talked to Headmaster Dumbledore since the Goblet."
Harry wondered what Lily might've said about Hardwin, as well as what conversations she's had with the Flamels. Secretly, he wondered if she'd thought about her other son she abandoned. He wondered why, if things were different now… the tight feeling in his chest began to reemerge, so rather than continue his train of thought, he abruptly asked, "Did you read it?"
"Yeah. It said Tom Marvolo Riddle before it exploded into a ball of fire," Hardwin answered, pointing at a bit of his singed hair. "What about it?"
"Sorry about that. Here's the rest," Harry told him with mild embarrassment. Exercising more control, he actually completed the anagram, to Hardwin's great shock.
"Is that true!? That can't be true! That can't- You better not-" Red-faced and shaking, Hardwin turned away from Harry, who could tell he was wiping away tears.
"I'm not playing you. Tom Riddle is Voldemort," Harry slowly mentioned. "Judging by the way your mum reacted when I mentioned it during lunch, unless she's a brilliant actor, I don't reckon she knows. But Dumbledore definitely knows. He's been asking us."
"That… monster killed… my da-" Hardwin's throat clucked shut before he started walking away.
Never factoring in for grief-stricken agony, Harry abruptly felt terrible for simply dropping the information on Hardwin like that. Harry himself didn't recall much more than anger and the typical sadness he always felt at the thought of his deceased parents. He yelled after him, "I'll be around if you want to talk."
Alone now, his emotional break made Harry feel far more exhausted than he had felt in a long time. The thought of a nap before his next class was tempting, but he instead decided to further examine Nova's magical manacle.
Stepping out of Transfiguration, Harry was simply happy McGonagall had yet to be informed of the Slytherin educational revolt on Umbridge's class when he found Nicolas waiting for him.
"Hey Nic, what's up?" Harry casually greeted after Daphne and Tracey respectfully greeted the legendary Alchemist.
"Just wanted to let you know, dinner at ours tonight," Nicolas answered.
"Okay," Harry easily agreed before asking, "any special reason?"
"Not to my knowledge," the elder returned. "Just dinner with the Potters," he added, and Harry straightened up a bit. Nicolas eyed Harry before the elder legend made to leave when Harry stopped him.
"Can you look into mirror potions?" Harry asked, mentally sidestepping what dinner with Lily and Hardwin could mean for his plans, and his emotional state which he would admit had been spotty at best.
"Mirror potions?" Nicolas asked in confusion, raising a brow.
They all paid attention as he explained, "I need to be able to see the runes on Nova's leg, so if I can submerge the cloth in a potion that can mirror-"
"Everything it wets, possibly seeing what's inside," Nicolas easily finished. "I can think of something, though it won't be perfect right away. It'll need to be tweaked."
"I can do the research if you want to get me started," Harry explained. "I know you're busy with Flitwick."
"Nonsense, my boy," Nicolas swatted away any suggestion of relief. "We're in this together, aren't we?" he asked with a smile, that affected Harry more than it should. Harry quelled the swell of affection and simply answered with a nod and a small smile of his own. Taking a breath to center himself again, they headed to lunch, discussing with Daphne the possible solutions once he got to see the scheme array Dumbledore used.
"The thing freaking me out the most is how it manages to repair itself," Harry explained. "Basilisk venom should've done the trick."
Hermione met them at the entrance of the Great Hall. She greeted them before hoisting up the large books in her arms for Daphne, declaring, "I got them."
"Got what?" Harry asked as he tilted his head to read the spines.
"Hogwarts Faculty Disciplinary Guidelines as well as the Ministry's former Department of Education, Innovations in Education," Hermione answered.
Confused, he turned to Daphne, as he was under the impression she wanted to handle it alone. "If you need help-"
"I had always intended on including Hermione," Daphne assured him.
"Just leave this to us," Hermione told him with her warm smile. "Daphne left Professor Umbridge's textbook with me, and I couldn't believe how incredibly benign it was with respect to defense, as if the idea of using defense magic is an abhorrent concept that's never necessary for the preservation of life. What upsets me the most is, had my eyes not been opened a few months ago, I would've believed this farce. This class is wrong, and I can't support it."
"See," Daphne exulted with a smirk.
"You'll probably have to talk with Flitwick, Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore," Harry told them. "Are you sure you wouldn't want me to talk to them in your place? I already challenge authority," he explained. "It's sorta expected for me to cause a ruckus."
"Well, not anymore. I won't attend that class if I can learn more on my own... with you- us- all of us," Hermione quickly cut herself off. Despite turning a bit from his piercing green eyes, she couldn't hide the rose tinge the tan of her cheeks. For a moment, the only thought that existed in his head was how adorable his fluffy-haired friend looked. So much so, it took longer before the red flags waved him from that hormonal train of thought.
"If you're sure," Harry stated. "Just ask if you need anything—from me, Nic or Nelle. I'll burn this place to the ground if you want me to- I'm kidding, Hermione," he jested, presenting open palms to her stern look. "Just a joke," he added with a knowing smirk.
"It's not funny," she mildly huffed, though not without a small smile gracing her pink lips.
Not surprisingly, none of the Slytherins sat with them at the Ravenclaw table, much less with the Gryffindors or even Hufflepuffs.
'Fine by me,' Harry thought.
After the day's classes, Daphne, Draco, and Tracey followed Harry to the seventh floor for their afternoon training session inside the Room of Requirement. Meeting Hermione there, he was pleasantly surprised to see and welcome Luna to their training.
"Well, your mental shields are definitely stronger," Harry estimated, removing his palm from Hermione's warm forehead. She beamed at him, affectionately pressuring him to quickly address Luna. "I'm surprised you know occlumancy, Luna."
"Father accurately deduced Blibbering Humdingers can be repelled by occlumancy," Luna staunchly informed him. "It's the only way I can make them stop laughing at my Butterbeer Cork necklace and my Dirigible Plum earrings," she whimsically added, though Harry couldn't help curse these creatures for laughing at his friend.
"Well, I like your style," Harry reassured her. "But I have to ask if you want to know this information. It can be dangerous and I'd still protect you even if you don't know."
"I know, and I'm certain," Luna easily expressed.
Since she was sure, they all huddled together. Standing under such expecting attention was a little nerve-wracking for Harry. The unnerving feeling didn't linger, as Draco abruptly broke the tension by asking, "Did you break the news to Hardwin? Is that why the Potters want to have dinner with your family later?"
The girls were obviously confused, but Harry nodded, answering, "Yeah. The-"
"Did he cry?" Draco interjected with a vindictive smile.
"Stuff it," Harry effortlessly responded, as if it was the most natural reply in the world, before addressing the girls. He had ungenerously extended their eager anticipation, taking a moment to consider this conversation. Harry hadn't planned on it, but there was always a possibility, and within that realm, he surmised many variations of explaining to them the details without revealing how much it had consumed him. If they were dumb, this wouldn't even be an issue, but these girls had intelligence in abundance, and he hadn't exactly done the best job of hiding his vulnerabilities. Harry cleared his throat.
"I think it goes without saying I want you all to be safe," he said. "After the acromantula attack, I've had to admit to myself that I can't guarantee I'll always be there to protect you, and in those moments, you'll have to rely on your best decision to keep the worst from happening. Whether I like it or not, to keep you safe, you need to know what's ahead; what being around me means you'll all now be facing. I didn't make this decision lightly, but if the world ever decides to target you, I want you to be well and accurately informed. You've all proven yourselves, and I trust you." Feeling how tense it had become, Harry listlessly mentioned, "Though I had to take some points from you, Tracey, because I just don't get what you see in Draco."
"I'd be worried if you did, you prat," Draco casually shot back without feeling insulted. Tracey was too surprised he even mentioned her to take offense, though she giggled at Draco's reply. Somehow, the boys were beyond offense when it came to these quick little jabs, as if they had grown callous in their hatred of one another.
"For the life of me, I don't see how you two are friends," Hermione mentioned. "You bicker all the time."
"Boys," Daphne apathetically answered, as if no more need be said.
"I've spoken with Moaning Myrtle," Luna began telling the girls. "And she orates this absolutely delicious fantasy between them I can't wholly ignore." The pairing of Harry and Draco drew wide-eyed attention from Tracey and Daphne, while Hermione rolled her eyes, as if she had heard this before.
Draco dry heaved, and Harry coughed loudly, "Okay! Another thing I need to explain... is my responsibility. In a lot of ways, this is my purpose. What I am about to share is very much the center of my world, and until I complete this mission, nothing and no one can change that. Sad as I find it, I've accepted it for myself and for the world. You need to accept that as well."
Tentatively, Daphne asked, "What is this mission?"
Satisfying his paranoia, Harry erected his strongest privacy wards around them before feeling safe enough to continue. "Everyone here knows who Lord Voldemort is, commonly known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who. He was terrible before becoming infamous the night he disappeared. Yes, disappeared, not died. Before he was the Dark Lord, he was formerly a Slytherin wizard by the name Tom Marvolo Riddle."
To illustrate his point, he harped on the fire words that seemed to be enough proof for everyone. None of them could mask how surprising this news already was, and he hadn't even brought up the horribly good stuff.
"Not a lot of people know much about him, which didn't make a lot of sense to Nicolas, Perenelle, and myself," Harry continued. "So we took it upon ourselves to do independent investigating and discovered a number of disturbing revelations. The worst of which is he cannot die, at least not completely."
Harry put his hand up because both Daphne and Hermione became impassioned with questions that needed answers. He read the fear in their eyes, the doubt, and the curiosity. It felt like he had removed them from their safe place, and now they needed to make sense of it to be safe again.
"I know you have questions, and the more I say, the more you'll have, but try to let me finish first." Hermione put her hand down, and they both nodded. "He's not alive in the same way you and I are, but alive enough that he can attain his power once again." Turning to Daphne, he answered her question. "My mission, my purpose, is to do everything in my power to kill that monster... for good."
"How is he alive?" Hermione asked.
"Very dark magic," Harry answered."He created objects that house his soul, so that even if his body dies, he can exist enough to eventually return."
"That ghoul!" Hermione abruptly called, pointing a finger. "The one you're both hunting for in the Dark Forest!" Hermione's curly hair whipped from side to side looking from Harry to Draco and back. Harry simply nodded to her unasked question. "I think I'm going to be sick," Hermione admits, her wide eyes and frown matching the sentiment.
Tracey turned to Draco and anxiously asked him, "You're hunting… the Dark Lord?" It was incredibly impactful for Draco as he recognized that the worry on Tracey's face was very much for his safety. He wanted to comfort her, and tell her that everything would be okay—or anything else she might believe—but his promise to his son would only allow him to sadly nod. He offered no words of assurance and she quickly became pensive.
"Tracey, I'm trusting you the most," Harry honestly told her, drawing everyone's attention to him again. "I know Sirius Black is an Auror, and it's his job to know these things, but I'm asking you to say nothing until my parents have spoken with him first. They'll have more answers for his questions anyway. As you may have guessed, I'm not fighting this alone. Nicolas, Perenelle, and Draco-" Nova trilled and nipped at his head, making him smile despite how anxious he felt, adding, "And especially Nova, are all fighting this evil together. We've discussed and acknowledged Sirius Black and Amelia Bones ought to know as well, along with the Potters, since it affects them."
"That's why they want to have dinner with you tonight?" Daphne asked Harry, who nodded.
"This information is dangerous because it makes you a target," Draco told Tracey with a level of concern nearing that of when he was reminiscent of his son. "You can't talk about this to anyone outside this room. Don't send letters, don't assume you're alone because you don't see anyone around, and if possible, don't think about it in case of legilimency. Because if Death Eaters ever find out, they will take you… and eventually kill you."
"And if Dumbledore finds out you know, he'd likely wipe your mind or force some other way to keep you silent," Harry piggybacked on Draco's warning.
"So the Headmaster knows," Hermione asked, allowing her curiosity to outweigh her fear.
"Yes," Harry answered. "And truthfully, I made you learn occlumancy primarily because of him. He tried to enter my mind once, I wouldn't put it past him not to try with others." Using a tempus spell to learn the time, Harry judged it a good place to suspend this deliberation. "Take the night to think about it… behind your best occlumancy shields, please. I need to meet Nic and Nelle for dinner."
They were all deep in thought as they left the Room of Requirement. Though Harry wondered what questions tomorrow would bring, he was quite proud of himself for compartmentalizing—keeping his, as of late, turbulent emotions in check—as he explained the basics of one of the worst evils this world had ever known. Harry hoped to remain as detached during dinner with the Potters. The Flamels had all agreed to give the famous pair nearly identical information he had given his group, though none of it would be voiced by him.
As with all things Lily-related, Perenelle took the lead; a role she easily took to as the very first words she spoke to the Potters when they entered their living quarters. "I know you have questions and I, or we, rather, will answer them to the best of our knowledge. However, before we completely ignore the meal, I strongly recommend we try to dine first."
"Can't you just tell us about Tom Riddle?!" Hardwin demanded, only to be strongly reprimanded by Lily.
"Hardwin, not tonight, you hear me," she warned before taking a calming breath. Lily turned her son toward her and looked him directly in his aching eyes. "I know what you're feeling, and you have every right to feel it, but you can't lash out. That's not why we're here."
Hardwin took a deep breath and nodded while Nicolas lightened the mood, apologizing for the messy state of their home that was, in reality, immaculate. The small living quarters had been expanded for the evening to include more depth. They needed a desk far enough from the dining table for Harry to experiment on mixtures to create a draught that could help Nova. The other purpose of equal importance was that it helped keep him away from Lily's sight.
The concern brought up by the possibility she might see James' likeness in Harry's face at any moment was an uncertainty that inflated his anxiety every time they met. They couldn't even be sure why she hadn't recognized him as it was; he had always been noticed as his father's son. Their working theory was that the mind sees what it sees. While Harry did look a lot like James, Ares' magical prowess, scars, Phoenix, and last name all helped to generate a camouflage that, in this case, was effective.
At the moment, Lily and Hardwin stayed close together, her hand comforting on his shoulder, as they were taken to the already set table. Nicolas sat at the head, with Lily and Perenelle facing each other on their respective sides of the table. Hardwin sat beside his mother, and Harry stayed at the end of the room working on the potion as they ate.
"What's he doing?" Hardwin aggressively asked either Nicolas or Perenelle.
Tightening her grip on his shoulder, Lily corrected him. "What he means to ask is if Ares will be joining us."
"He's currently working on a rather innovative potion, and it's a critical step in the brewing process," Nicolas explained with his genial smile. "He'll join us momentarily."
After several minutes of silence, neither camp thinking of anything more than the big topic as of yet to be discussed. At a poor stab of conversation, Nicolas asked Hardwin if he was nervous about the first task in two weeks, inadvertently adding more tension to the room. Perenelle made certain to mention they would help in any way possible, rules be damned.
"Won't I lose my magic if you help me?" Hardwin asked with wide concerned eyes between a mouth full of his meal.
"To my recollection," Nicolas began, scratching his chin. "That magical mandate woven into the goblet was for the purpose of punishing cowards who didn't uphold their oath to participate. So, as long as you show up, you're fine."
Hardwin then asked to be excused to see what Ares was working on.
Lily looked at Perenelle, who answered, "I suppose it's just silly to wait any longer. I only wanted to be certain we ate. It's never good to go about hard topics on an empty stomach."
"Of course," Lily said with a tight smile, and graciously added, "it was delicious."
"I first want to begin by saying how sorry we are for having to be the bearers of such awful news," Perenelle explained as they all headed to the comfortable couch in front of the fireplace. Harry's workspace was behind the couch, making certain the only way Lily or Hardwin could see him was if they turned around.
"Please, will you tell us what you know?" Lily asked, sitting on the edge of the comfortable couch, Hardwin right next to her.
"Of course," Perenelle said, standing before them. And like Harry, when he had explained similar information earlier, Perenelle repeated Voldemort's true identity and the fact that he was still alive. "We figured the attempt to attain our philosopher's stone was made by a professor possessed by Tom Riddle's spirit."
"That was at the end of Hardwin's first year," a deathlike Lily spoke, aghast. "Albus had explained that it was the Dark Lord's spirit and once Professor Quirrell passed, it would be incredibly difficult to possess another. The theory being he can't possess anyone, or at the point of his body failing, he would've possessed the nearest person."
"The thing Albus failed to mention was that he was more than a spirit," Perenelle continued. "He was a shade of soul, and the only way that's possible is if he had an anchor tethering him to the realm of the living."
"An anchor? How is that possible?" Lily quickly asked.
"Are you okay to continue?" Perenelle asked the Potter matriarch. "You've heard a distressing amount of disturbing news already. A spot of time to absorb it all would do you well."
"I mean no disrespect, Perenelle," Lily started with more fire than any of them were expecting. "But a large part of my life is a spiral of doubt, loss, and tragedy. There isn't a day that goes by I don't suffer the failure of trying to make sense of that time. I need to know like I've lost a lung and I'm trying to take a deep breath again. Please."
"And your son?" Perenelle asked the red-haired mother, ignoring the urge to look at Harry and instead focus on Hardwin. "This is very distressing and he is young-"
"But it's alright for Flam- for Ares to know, but not me?" Hardwin anxiously called out.
It was obvious to Harry that Hardwin was trying to keep it together, but he had been told he had his father's eyes since he was young. His father was a man Hardwin never got to know because he was murdered by a man he had come to learn studied at Hogwarts by the name of Tom Riddle. Lord Voldemort was a name that always made him seem larger than life, extra magical, but to learn his father was murdered by a dark wizard born with a normal name, ignited his anger, and his self-contempt for aggrandizing a simple, yet deranged murderer.
"Why does he know more about all this than we do?" Hardwin persisted. "None of this happened to him! It's not fair! It's not right, and I need to know just as much!"
"I understand you're feeling frustrated, and I want you to know it's okay to feel such strong emotions," Perenelle soothingly began to guide Hardwin like she would any and all of her patients. Harry couldn't even imagine how many times a healer of Perenelle's caliber had to inform a good person of horrible news. "We want you both to have the answers and closure you need. It's why our little Trouble Star over there said what he said, as well as why he mentioned Tom Riddle during our lunch in the village."
Lily and Hardwin looked at each other in recollection. Before they could ask anything, Perenelle continued. "To answer your question, we know simply because of detailed research as well as being well-versed in magical history and genealogy. We may prefer to be on the outskirts of society, but we often travel on many quests of knowledge. It's how we stay relatively current."
"How specifically is it that he's able to remain relatively alive, and what are you doing to stop this?" Lily asked.
This was where Perenelle, Nicolas, and Harry had discussed drawing the line. They had no real issues informing the Potters of what they needed to know about the danger ahead; Tom Riddle being alive, anchored to the land of the living by employing the darkest of magic, his seeking a body, and that was it. If Lily or Hardwin decided to tell Dumbledore, it was only confirmation that the Flamels know more than they had said. Nicolas took the lead in explaining why they couldn't share more than what they'd already had.
"This brings us to the point we must make clear before we continue," Nicolas began. "We've told you of the man who murdered James Potter as well as the dangers that continue to exist because of Tom Riddle. However, as things are, we cannot tell you what more we know," he clearly asserted, and the Potters were immediately on the defensive.
"What does that mean? 'As things are?'" Lily pointed out, placing her hand on Hardwin before he could protest.
"We are more than concerned about whom you will tell," Nicolas answered. "More specifically how much you will tell Albus, if you decide to confide in him at all. Though, I'd be fine if he chokes on his beard of secrets," Nicolas added bitterly to Hardwin's shock.
"You see, we are aware that Dumbledore has placed himself in harm's way for you, and with good reason," Perenelle said, retaining the peace. "He has a brilliant mind, gifted magically with unmatched strength, and a whole-hearted supporter of all that is good and just in our society. However, as of late, he has proven himself to be more than what is generally known about him."
"Like Icarus who flew too close to the sun," Nicolas directed. "We too felt his burn and nearly plummeted to our deaths!"
"Nicolas can be a touch melodramatic; however, he's not wrong," Perenelle mused with all seriousness. "In my observance, Dumbledore's actions have deeper implications of a self-styled superiority. He feels that if you have power, you are tasked with responsibilities others cannot understand—and may never understand—thus, superseding the opinions or rights of said others."
"It was my responsibility to protect my family," Nicolas passionately explains, his voice thick with unresolved anguish. "And he took that away when he kept me from helping Ares bring back my wife."
"I would've stopped you," Harry told him, surprising the room as he avoided involving himself too much in the discussion. "But that's only because Nelle would've killed me if I let anything happen to you."
Perenelle smirked at Ares, before turning a serious countenance toward Nicolas and nodding in agreement.
"The jurisdiction of individual rights and decisions of the whole aren't exactly easy dominions to navigate," Lily voiced before turning to Harry; scaring him into looking inside the cauldron even though he had no need to. "You have a strength to do what others cannot, and took it upon yourself to do what the Headmaster could not know you capable of; that any of us could expect you capable of." Returning her attention to Perenelle, she continued to offer a different point of view. "We rely on the strong because many of us are not; whether it be defensive ability, diplomacy, intellect, goods and services, etc. As a society, necessity dictates tasks and those best suited for them should, for the whole, perform them to the best of their already exceptional ability."
Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that viewpoint. Too many cracks for mistakes to fall through.
"I won't deny the merits of a valid point of view," Perenelle told her. "For a society, it's necessary for everyone to pitch in and do what they're best at for the welfare of the whole. I'd ask: how can we navigate the subtle difference between, 'everyone should do what they're best at so we all benefit,' and, 'I will do this for you, for your own good?'" Perenelle asked. "I tend to focus on what it is we are trading. If I give you the right to protect me because I acknowledge you can do it better than I'm able, am I also giving you the belief that you can govern me in the name of protection? Have I just enabled this person to feel they are better than me, and thus of a mind to make decisions for me?"
"I feel everyone has the right to protect their home and family," Nicolas stated. "It's a personal right I certainly never surrendered to Albus, yet he felt he knew better and denied me my right."
"Why are you saying that?" Hardwin abruptly cut in, staring aghast between Nicolas and Perenelle. "He's your friend—he said so himself—and you're making it sound like he wronged you because he kept you from jumping into a horde of acromantula! What was he suppose to do? Let you die?"
"I can't say I was in the best mindset, young man, I'll admit it," Nicolas affirmed. "It was certainly an emotional decision, but that's a part of humanity. I would move heaven and earth for the people I love; willingly give my life for theirs. Albus may have kept me alive, but it was at the high expense of my wife's very life—who's my everything—and that's a price I would never pay. It's what we do for our loved ones, you understand?"
Hardwin didn't answer, but Nicolas had roused fond memories in all the Potters in the room—Harry himself willing away the tortuous memories of his dearest friends. With a sniff, Lily added for Hardwin's benefit, "It's why your father did what he did… bravely, for his family." Hardwin nodded once, and took his seat, his mother taking both his hands within hers. Turning to the senior Flamel, she asked, "Please continue. I haven't fully understood your grievance as it relates to us."
"Dumbledore is not evil," Perenelle began. "He thinks he knows what's best, and whether we agree or not is of little concern to him. It's like that old saying, 'If you could but with a flick of your wrist.' We handed one man three key positions in our society; Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Headmaster of our children. Riddle isn't the only one who believes he has the permission power prompts."
"As of this moment," Nicolas took over. "It is our contention the old boy feels entitled to govern over us, and quite frankly, we disagree. This is why we can't share any additional details with you. We felt you deserved to know the truth about the past, and who's responsible, but any more than that, we simply cannot risk he learn."
"Why!?" Hardwin couldn't help but demand. "No, mum! I've had enough of this! He's the strongest wizard in the world! If he says he can do something, just get out the way and let him!"
"Hardwin," Perenelle clinically called. "I'd like to explain something, if I may?" Though unsure what the Flamel matriarch wanted to say, Hardwin nodded and she proceeded to ask, "Why do you think the Headmaster didn't tell you who murdered your father?"
"I don't know. But I reckon he had a good reason," Hardwin affirmed. "He always has good reasons for doing a thing."
"He may have had a fair argument if he kept the truth from you, a minor," Perenelle pointed out. "But to keep it from your mother? She had every right to know. Here's another query, why do you suppose he didn't explain the truth about the danger you continue to face to this day? It's a difficult topic and one that requires delicacy when explaining to the young, but I wouldn't say it's impossible."
Hardwin attested, "Don't think that just because he doesn't tell me things, that it proves your point!"
"Do you even want to know?" Perenelle continued.
"Of course I do!" Hardwin declared.
"Because this affects you, correct?" Perenelle asked. When Hardwin nodded, she asked, "So why didn't he, at the very least, inform your mother?"
"… I… I don't know," Hardwin answered honestly.
"That's fine," Perenelle reassured him. "It's okay if you don't. We don't know either. And because Albus is not forthcoming, we are forced to guess his motives. I don't mean to make him out to be a bad person—truly, I don't. However, I cannot fully trust someone who hordes secrets and knowledge that are not his to keep."
"But you're doing the same thing," Hardwin called. "Instead of telling us what you're doing about Volde- about Riddle, you're keeping it to yourselves."
"We don't deny it," Nicolas stated. "And we don't like it, but we can't be sure Dumbledore will share what he knows. He's already proven himself to be untrustworthy. He's known about Tom Riddle for a lot longer than he lets on. He's known about the dark magic that keeps Riddle tethered to our realm. He lied to us about the use of our Philosopher's Stone, leading to its destruction. He knows what attacked children in your second year; turning them into stone. He hired a Death Eater who was disguised as his personal friend—a mistake that nearly killed children—and yet, not one word of an apology. He shackled Nova—a phoenix for Merlin's beard! And this may be selfish of me, but he nearly allowed my wife to die, and that, I will never forgive him for. So, I do apologize if this is difficult to hear, young man. I simply cannot be involved with that man until I recognize and approve of what he stands for."
"Of course you're welcome to tell him all you've heard here," Perenelle told Lily. "But it is our hope you minimize our involvement."
Hardwin stood up, fists tight, then whipped around to Harry, pointing as he exclaimed, "He said he was going to kill him! You reject the strongest wizard in the world for a fourteen-year-old who barely handled one death eater?!"
"And saved your life while doing it," Harry definitively pointed out, all the while trying hard to quell his swelling emotions.
The boys stared hard at one another until Lily stood. A hand on each shoulder, she forced Hardwin to turn and look at her. "Hardwin E. Potter, until I, as the head of our house and your mother, say otherwise, you are forbidden from speaking to Dumbledore, alone or otherwise, unless I or Sirius are present. Do I make myself clear?" His eyes were still hard with anger and she took her hand off his shoulder to stand at her full height, asking again, "Do I make myself clear?" Hardwin deflated and nodded. Lily turned to Perenelle, stating, "For now, we'll keep this within the family, however, I very much count Sirius and Remus as family. You should know I have no intention of keeping this from them."
"They were school friends, were they not?" Nicolas asked. "I recall Lord Black saying as much. Albus is my only point of contention. As for everyone else, whomever you deem fit to know is none of our concern."
"What about him?" Hardwin asked, his hard hazel eyes—his father's eyes—once again landing on Harry. "You can't just let him do whatever he wants because he's a little better at magic."
"A little?" Harry asked, snorting with knowing eyes, fully expecting it to egg Hardwin on.
"Whatever," Hardwin spat back. "We both know you have issues. We all know. Mum says you have trauma-"
"Harwin!" Lily called, her hand gripping his shoulder.
He shrugs his mother's hand away and yelled, "No, mum! You said he's got scars in his mind, and earlier today, he had another freakout! What sense does it make to let someone who's clearly sick in the head do whatever he likes? He's talking about killing like it's normal! How does that not worry anyone here?! He needs help and should be in St. Mungo's, not Hogwarts!"
Both Nicolas and Perenelle held their tongues, recognizing the silence that followed for what it was; a child venting his frustrations. The only sound was Hardwin's labored breath, as if satisfied and comforted by finally speaking his mind, or in this case, yelling it. Harry felt angry enough to attack him—muggle style—like in the lessons of his training manual, the Year of the Dragon.
Instead, with obvious ire in his voice, Harry crossly retorted, "The Boy Who Lived… your life looks like a fucking vacation in my eyes-"
"Ares," he heard Perenelle call, settling him just enough to calmly say, "if I had my way, the only thing I'd be killing are my Quidditch tryouts. You ought to just count your blessings you haven't seen what I've seen, or done what I've done. And don't forget, if I were in St. Mungo's for my trauma, you'd be dead."
Embarrassed, Lily pointed a strong finger at his seat, growling through clenched teeth, "park it!" She turned to Perenelle, Nicolas, and Harry, after Hardwin complied, "I am so terribly sorry for his outburst. Nicolas, Perenelle, I won't make excuses for him, and you have my solemn vow that he will be punished accordingly. Ares, expect a formal apology from him."
There was a knock on the door, and with a hand up, Harry quickly moved to get it, eager to give his emotions a bit of a reprieve before he hit his brother. As he walked, he heard Perenelle confess to Hardwin, "If I had my way, Ares would be fat and lazy, and content to lead a boring life."
In jest, Nicolas informed Lily, "No one tells you how exhausting raising a prodigy can be. You don't know how many times I wished for a droopy-eyed little mouth breather, where the only challenge we'd face is making sure he showers once a day and brushes his teeth."
Harry rolled his eyes at how devoted they were to this domestic facade, until he opened the door and his eyes hardened, glowing immediately with surging physical and magical irritation.
"Good evening," Dumbledore greeted, not bothered by Ares' ire. Harry looked behind the headmaster as the elder asked, "May we come in?"
"No," Harry said and slammed the door in his face.
"I can't believe you just did that!" Hardwin called indignantly, and Harry gave him an evilly satisfied grin. Perenelle, the last Flamel who could meet with Dumbledore and retain some civility, walked around to the front door as Harry moved to cover the work he and Nicolas were working on.
She opened the door and was further surprised by the pair. "Good evening Albus... ah, Professor Umbridge. What can I do for you both?"
"Good evening," Dumbledore graciously acknowledged. "May we come in?" Perenelle stepped to the side to wordlessly allow him and the squat woman in pink entrance. "Ah, I'd heard the Potters were here," he jests, and Harry knew full well the headmaster knew exactly where they were. "Evening, I trust dinner was excellent. I myself have always been fond of Perenelle's culinary prowess."
"Oh, how I so enjoy pleasantries," Umbridge glumly began, grating on Harry's patience with the power of her voice alone. "However, we are here on an official capacity," she told the group before turning a smug eye on Harry.
"Dolores," Dumbledore said for her to concede the lead.
"To what do we owe this unannounced visit, young man?" a snarky-toned Nicolas asked, easily making sure Dumbledore knew who in the room was the real elder.
"Albus," Lily called, standing just ahead of Hardwin. "What can I help you with?"
"Nothing of inconvenience, I assure you," Dumbledore began. "I simply wanted to inform both Hogwarts' Champions of the Weighing of the Wands this Saturday," he said, looking at Harry and Hardwin. "The weekend before the First Task. The panel of judges had scheduled it for earlier in the month, however, after recent events... well, what matters is this Saturday, we meet at noon."
"Yes, now," Umbridge squeaked, taking the lead. The sudden move of Umbridge extending a parcel with the official Ministry Seal toward Harry nearly had him flick his wrist for his wand. "This is your Ministry Notice of Summons," Umbridge practically threatened in her sickeningly sweet tongue.
Harry didn't take it, and crossed his arms, staring irately at her. Instead, Nicolas took the summons, informing Umbridge, "I am the head of this house and anything of official capacity that concerns my heir will be brought to me first and foremost, Madam Undersecretary. Make a mistake like that again and I will file a complaint."
Umbridge's square chest widened comically from the air she inhaled, letting out a gust afterward and calming down enough to hollowly return, "My apologies, Lord Flamel. Please note the meeting is to hear your heir's version of the event, as such your attendance is mandatory. If you fail to appear, the court will view your culpability as conclusive, and issue a bench warrant for your arrest where you will be held in Azkaban until an alternative court date can be decided. As that falls under my purview, I cannot give you a specific time as to when that might be. It could very well take quite some time."
"That will not happen," Perenelle stated as Nicolas read over the summons. "We'll make certain to be there."
"For the benefit of everyone involved, as the Undersecretary, all requests to alter the date and or time of the court appearance will not be accepted," she said with a sinister grin. "We're all quite busy as well."
"As we've already stated-" Perenelle began before Nicolas stopped her with a concerned hand on her forearm. She turned to him, absorbing his concern, bringing out her own anxious curiosity. Nicolas apprehensively told her, "The time and date of the hearing... is scheduled at the same time Ares is to perform the first task..."
The implications quickly became quite clear to all present. Miss the task to go to court, and through the Goblet's celestial power, lose his magic. Miss court in favor of the task, and face arrest followed by a return to Azkaban, for an uncertain amount of time.
Umbridge smiled at him, absolutely delighted.
Thank you all for reading and supporting and commenting. I truly appreciate it. The Task will be the next chap. Speaking of which, I feel like I can manage one more update before the holiday rush fills up my schedule. So forewarning, December and half of January is a rush period for us. I'll try to write but no promises :(
Thanks again and please let me know your thoughts or hopes.
Have a great one,
-Grae