Key:
"Words."
Thoughts / "emphasis" / Title of Books or spells used
~~Parseltongue~~
¬¬Foreign Language¬¬
"Magical language."
Proper Foundations
17th June 1993 (97 days diluted) – Hogwarts
The time dilution wasn't as impactful as it might have been, as Harry wasn't free to vanish for a full twenty-four-hour period. The Lord of Magic and his Apprentice took care to work out an ideal method of keeping his activities secret, with no moments of vanishing that would cause questions to be asked. They split each day into three blocks, just shy of five hours each. Morning until lunch, after lunch until dinner, and after dinner until midnight. Harry would live each block within the Room of Requirement until they neared the 'real world' limit of the Time-Turner's ability. Harry would use the Room to access one of the Parsel tunnels and spin back those five hours to live that block of time as though he was still the same second year he had been prior to finding his ancestor's portrait. As soon as the time loop closed, Harry would then rush off back to the Room to repeat the process.
Unlike the usual hidden passages, Hogwarts created the Parsel tunnels each time. This kept them from being connected to the school's wards and to keep the Time-Turner's magic from being picked up. He always spent his redo spin living the Hogwarts schedule rather than within the Room. Salazar was determined to make it a habit to use the loop's natural abilities to conceal any alterations to his body or magic from those who could pick up such changes.
Harry had been worried he would slip up in conversations with Hermione and Ron, but the split schedule meant he lived just under three days between spins. A long weekend wasn't enough time for him to make any conversation mistakes, especially with his Sebastian-taught Mind Arts sessions. Each lesson would begin with him remembering and storing the latest memories before they continued from the previous lesson's stopping point. It had been over three months of painful mental therapy that made Harry feel like he was going through a spiritual cleansing. He was near the end of the exercise, but had run into a set of memories he never would have guessed he even possessed. That of his life with his parents. Both Sebastian and Salazar had refused to let him look into those until he came to terms with the night of their murder, something he struggled with far more than even the worst of the Dursley memories.
He was thankful that his mentors had constantly reinforced their joint message of there being no hurry to overcome his memories. The three months inside the Room had been emotionally trying, and there had been countless occasions when Harry's emotions had threatened to overwhelm him. Salazar's similar childhood and Sebastian's unique nature had saved Harry's sanity on more than one occasion as he struggled with his past.
Not that ripping open his emotional wounds was all he had been doing in the Room. Master Sal had sat him down to rewrite every piece of homework he'd had over the past two years. Not so he could learn where he needed to improve, but to improve his quillmanship. The words of his assignments had become meaningless as Harry focused on making sure every letter was perfect - another form of meditation that helped ease his emotions. Then came the lessons in Floo and Portkey travel and the many times he had almost been sick after a crash landing, or being spat out of one of the two fires the Room had created for them.
Salazar had proven his talent as a teacher and the decline of said skill for modern Hogwarts. The Snake Lord remained calm and patient while working his student through mastering smooth travelling. He met every failure with understanding and questioning, as the pair would talk through Harry's attempts and what needed to be changed. For the first time in his life, Harry learnt that failure was its own lesson in how to do better and not something to be ashamed of.
They had decided that the day before the Hogwarts Express took the students back to London for the summer was the ideal time to speak with the Bat of the Dungeons. Harry kept control of his breathing, taking even breaths as he walked out of the Parsel tunnel between Snape's classroom and the Slytherin Common Room. His firm rap of the knuckle against the man's door was met with a barked "Enter."
"What are you doing here, Potter?" was the instant snarl when Snape saw who was disturbing him. Harry closed the door behind him and walked up to the man's desk, holding out a parchment folder for him to take.
"Potter-"
"Altair," he interrupted, instantly freezing Snape. Onyx eyes widened before the Potions Master could stop himself from reacting. "She wanted to name me Altair Aetius Salazar Black. She called you her two boys and swore she would never understand either of you. Take it, Professor."
Severus Snape was a Master Occlumens, and a spy capable enough of tricking one of the worst Dark Lords in history. Yet, the boy's words made him pale like a first-year caught being naughty. How? How does he know? The question was like a Banshee scream in Snape's head, driving out all other thoughts, and bringing a far too familiar pain. The boy with her eyes and his hated face stared defiantly at Severus, still holding out the folder for him to take. Instinct kicked in, and he reached out to read what was going on in the brat's mind, only to come up against an impenetrable wall. Those green eyes narrowed in a familiar way he knew spelt trouble, but Severus didn't care. Potter having Master-level mind shields was impossible.
They were in a silent impasse. Neither spoke nor even moved. Severus told himself it was pure curiosity that had him blink first and reach for the folder. He snatched it out of the brat's hand and found himself shocked for the third time in as many minutes. "I give you a Wizard's Oath that what you're about to read is real and that anything I've blacked out has not changed the context as far as I know."
A Wizard's or Witch's Oaths were not said lightly. While not magically binding like Vows, a person spoke Oaths on their personal honour. Someone could become a social pariah were it revealed they broke or lied in an Oath. They both knew that he would love nothing more than to use the Oath to destroy Potter in the eyes of the Wizarding World. Just what was the brat playing at?
Said brat moved to sit in the nearest seat and continued to watch Severus. He snarled at the impertinent boy and viciously flicked open the folder, only to be shocked a fourth time at the sight of an achingly familiar script. He felt his chest tighten as if cursed and he let out a word that was half sigh, half prayer. "Lily..."
Severus couldn't stop himself from reading. It had clearly been taken from a diary. His perfect recall brought up a book his best friend had carried with her throughout her Hogwarts years. The bloody thing had been so heavily protected that just firing a spell near it could send the caster to the Hospital Wing. Potter Senior had suffered such fates many times when he kept attempting to prank her while she wrote in it.
The boy had chosen the entries for a reason. There were a few of her early years, mostly about their friendship and the toerag Potter, and then a shocking revelation of a secret friendship with Narcissa Black. Severus had to reread that entry three times before he believed it. The redactions her son had warned him about were obvious. Lily had somehow found a mentor either within Hogwarts or whom she could sneak out of the school to meet, but every clue to the man's name and the location of their meetings were hidden.
He flipped from one parchment to the next, delicately turning the pages to keep even a single crease from spoiling her handwriting. The entries of their later years were quick to show up, including that incident, but it was Dumbledore's constant badgering of his best friend to get with Potter that caught his eye. A dark, twisted feeling built in Severus' stomach and his mouth went dry. Surely not, he thought. He prayed. His wishes were for nought. There it was in Lily's own words. Their secret plans to abandon the country had never been a prank at his expense. Instead, they had been undone by a meddling old man with too much power and too little sense. And then it became worse as he read of her dream and the start of her visions.
He absently snorted at her manipulation of Potter in conceiving her son and the small entry that revealed she constantly hit him with a sexual fantasy spell of her own making to keep him believing they often laid with each other. His stunned mind barely reacted to the entry detailing her disgust at having to make Pettigrew their Secret Keeper rather than Black. It was only when his tears landed on the parchment did he realise he was crying.
"I doubt it matters, but James never knew any of it," her son said, voice soft with an achingly familiar tone of understanding that Severus did not want to hear. "He honestly thought she had changed her mind."
"It doesn't."
"They're your copies, Sir," Harry said, quickly moving on to give the man a chance at recovering. His inexperienced eye saw the telltale signs of the internal Occlumency shunting Snape's emotions away until the man was alone. "Only someone you freely hand them to will know what's written. It's a powerful Parsel charm, so there's no chance the Headmaster would know how to break it."
Dark eyes like the void stared at Harry, taking in things that most people wouldn't even notice, let alone consider being important. "You're not the same idiot Gryffindor."
"Can you blame me?" He snorted back, legs crossing in a similar pose to when Salazar was deep in discussion. "Mum charmed her diary to return to her mentor after that night. I found him a few weeks ago, and he gave me it to read. I'm sure you can imagine how much it opened my eyes."
"Indeed," Snape drawled, continuing to stare. At some point, the man had wandlessly cleaned his face of tears, and he was back to being the intimidating Head of Slytherin House rather than a man whose world order had been shattered by a few sheets of parchment. "And what do you plan to do now?"
"Train," Harry replied, lazily shrugging one shoulder as he laid the other arm across the back of the chair beside him. "I have a Dark Lord that wants me dead and a twisted old man looking to control my life. I'll kill the first, and I want to at least politically destroy the second. Watching him suffer as his vaulted reputation burns to ash will be a joy."
"And you think you can do either of those things?"
"Eventually."
"Your ego needs to be burnt to ash, Pot...Aetius," Snape sneered, disgust lacing every syllable. Harry took it as a win that the man hadn't called him Potter. Using what would have been one of his middle names made sense. It wasn't as personal as using Harry or Altair would be. It also meant any act of dunderheadedness was his own, and not treated as being the son of James.
"I've been taken on as the Apprentice of a Lord of Magic."
Silence.
Harry would never forget the look of shock on Severus Snape's face, especially how the man's jaw fell. The Professor was quick to pull himself together but the momentary breakage of his control would never stop making him grin whenever he remembered it.
"There hasn't been a Lord of Magic in centuries..." Snape's words drifted off, his intelligence working quickly to put the pieces together. Harry and Sal had debated on how much to tell Lily's best friend and had a small bet on how much he would work out on his own. Harry was mentally sighing. It seemed he had lost out to his Master, especially when Snape snorted with amusement. "You really are Slytherin's heir. Ha."
"I'd love to know how you worked that out."
"Please, you practically told me yourself," Snape didn't roll his eyes, but it was a close thing as his knuckles tapped the parchment. "Lily had a mentor who no one ever saw nor seemed capable of physically aiding her. These tell me Narcissa knew Lily's bloodline was both shocking and dangerous to know. You speak Parseltongue, you put Parsel protections on these sheets that you claim even Dumbledore couldn't break, you found Lily's dairy only after the attacks stopped, and oh, she wanted to name you Altair Aetius Salazar Black."
"When you put it like that..." Harry grumbled, wincing at how obvious the entire thing was when fully explained. This time Snape actually did roll his eyes.
"Lord of Magic and Founder, he may have been, but I doubt the man still lives. A portrait, even one of Salazar Slytherin, can only teach so much. Unless you've been experimenting in Necromancy instead of doing homework?"
"No Necromancy," Harry promised. Not yet, he mentally added, having accepted that it would be a branch of magic he would need to study if only to honour his Peverell roots. "But there is a place in Hogwarts that allows Master Sal to have a physical body. I'm not allowed to show anyone it. Not yet."
"You're being very free with information," Snape pointed out, suddenly far more suspicious than he had been. Especially when the boy's lips twitched at their corner.
"Those Parsel security charms don't just protect mum's words, they protect me for as long as this conversation lasts."
A small lie and one Harry was fine with telling. The protections wouldn't force loyalty from Snape, but they would react should he attempt being disloyal to the one who gave the parchment sheets to him. Salazar had promised that Snape couldn't even pretend to be on Harry's side. Any attempt to betray Harry would cause the parchments to burst into flames and the information removed from Snape's mind. It only worked with whatever was spoken until either of them left the proximity of the parchment, hence why he wasn't afraid to lay everything on the table.
"Adequate," Snape nodded, filing away the 'conversation lasts' caveat.
"I plan on getting in touch with Lady Malfoy after my thirteenth birthday," Harry nonchalantly said. "And next year, I'll try to get to know the Slytherins who could have been my House mates."
"Excuse me?"
"You didn't know?" Harry asked, deliberately focusing on the second part rather than what he knew had shocked Snape. "The Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin like wanted to do with mum. It is our heritage, after all."
"We'll come back to that later," came the snarled response. "What kind of dunderhead are you in wanting to contact Narcissa Malfoy?"
"The type who is trying to get to know his godmother," Harry snapped back, the curling of his lips matching Snape's sneer almost perfectly. "Especially as she can teach me things of the modern era that Master Sal wouldn't know."
Severus sighed heavily through his nose, pinching the bridge to hopefully ward off the headache he knew would come from dealing with the boy. "I suppose you can get away with it as she's Black's cousin."
"About that," Harry's eyes began to glow with fury, causing Severus to flashback to the very few times he ever saw his best friend completely lose her temper. "Who do I have to kill to avenge Sirius?"
Severus blinked and then blinked again. The boy was serious – and he immediately used his Occlumency to shut up a suspiciously familiar voice in his head trying to make a name pun. Snape carefully enunciated every word he spoke. "Sirius Black is in Azkaban for betraying Lily and Potter. And killing Pettigrew."
The glow of the boy's eyes grew bright enough that Severus felt he was facing two Killing Curses, and her son's words held the promise of immense pain for those who had angered him. "I'll need to sort that out as soon as possible."
As though a missing piece had fallen into place, Severus now saw the complete picture. He understood why the boy was so free with his words, even with the Parsel protections. It was a test. If Lily's son truly had a place where he was getting trained by a manifestation of Salazar Slytherin's portrait, then it was probably only accessible to a Parselmouth. Most likely the fabled Chamber of Secrets. Should Severus betray the boy, he could easily vanish and only reappear once he had finished his training. A child fated to have the power to 'vanquish' the Dark Lord trained by the original Slytherin would cleave through their world in the same way the Dark Lord or Grindelwald had before their defeats. Severus knew Lily's temper. He had no doubts his death would be legendary should he turn on her son.
The boy was thankfully unaware of his horrifying thoughts, and Snape did the only sensible thing he could. He opened his mouth and gave a Wizard's Oath to not betray the boy and to aid him in defeating Severus' two masters.
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OoOoO
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It took another hour and many sighs of exasperation from Snape before their meeting ended. Snape had been quietly amused at how easily Harry allowed the knowledge of being taught by Salazar Slytherin to be known and yet refused to even speak of anything the legend was teaching him. The Professor's had gained his own Mastery under a master that took paranoia to the extreme, and yet, even then, Snape could discuss the basics of what he was learning with those who asked. The only thing Lily's boy shared was which Hogwarts subjects he was taking and how Salazar expected him to break every record going!
Harry left his new ally to the inevitable breakdown and accompanying alcoholic drink. He had another stop to make before he returned to the Common Room and his last night as a second year. He reached the kitchens in no time and tickled the pear that would open the portrait's wall to reveal a bustling group of house-elves. The little beings turned as one to look at him, eyes widening when they recognised him. Master Sal had told him that the school and her various parts would slowly follow him rather than Dumbledore as he grew into his inheritance, and the heavy silence of the elves hinted it had already begun.
"Master Harry Potter has come!" The hyperactive bundle of insanity that was Dobby shouted from somewhere deeper in the kitchens. Harry never had a chance to look for the elf as Dobby immediately appeared in front of him, a quivering ball of excitement. "Dobby is ready, Master Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is ready!"
"Well," he drawled with amusement. "I don't think I need to ask what your decision is."
It had been Sebastian who had given Harry the history and truth of house-elves. Dobby's actions earlier in the year had confused Harry, and the Hat had explained both the symbiotic nature of the race and their ability to work around orders. The first thing Harry had done was call the former Malfoy elf to offer to take him as his own and then told Dobby to think it over.
"No, sir, Master Harry Potter, Sir," Dobby declared, his ears flapping about as he furiously shook his head.
"Then let's begin," Harry placed his palm on the elf's head and there was a wave of gasps as the other elves listened in. "I take you as a member of my household. To be my worker and aide, to share my secrets and guard them as your own. As you are my aid, I am your shield. As you are my servant, I am your loyal master."
"Young Master uses the Oath of old," came the revered commentary. The Ancient Romans had forcefully cross-bred two magical races to create the race that would be their magical servants. The Romans had a strange way of seeing things. Although the new race needed to rely upon the magic of their new masters, the magicals still allowed an opening for the servants to gain freedom should they prove themselves worthy of it. Of course, the only way for that to happen was to have such undying loyalty to their master's family that the house-elf wouldn't want to walk away, even if given the chance.
The important thing for the house-elves was that the original Oath created a bond of family between wizard and elf. Sure, people could be people and still mistreat them, but most magicals didn't. They understood the worth of having loyal manservants and ladies-in-waiting, and the race's state had only deteriorated with the loss of the original Oath.
Dobby glowed as the bond between the two solidified, filling him out and up, until he stood half a head taller than the other elves, and slightly more muscular. Another inch or so was added when a pair of strapped sandals – Roman soleae – formed on the elf's feet. The pillowcase that was a symbol of a corrupted bond became a clean chiton the colour of Harry's eyes, with its edges having snakes and Thestrals embroidery, and the belt was a deep burgundy red. The only part that remained of the original Dobby was that he was also wearing one of Harry's socks over one ear.
"Excellent," Harry nodded once the bond had settled in his mind as a constant whisper of Dobby's health, location, and activity. He ignored the excitement building around them, pulling out a bundle of letters from a robe pocket. "Despite how much Hedwig is going to pout, I need you to deliver these. The ones on top are to different goblins at Gringotts, and you are to inform them that only by calling you are they to send me any messages. I've put it in the letters, but it's best to make sure the buggers can't pretend they didn't know if something from them suddenly finds its way into Dumbledore's hands."
Neither Harry nor Salazar believed the Headmaster had turned the goblins against him, but they were Slytherins in enemy territory. Far better to be too cautious than not cautious enough.
"After that, I want you to do a full clothes shopping for me," he grimaced at the thought of having to keep wearing Dudley's cast-offs again. "I'm not sure if you're able to do non-magical clothing-"
"I can, Master," Dobby promised, sounding more like an upper-class butler than the broken-English-speaking slave he had moments before. The newly formed bond was working on Dobby to make sure he acted and spoke exactly as Harry subconsciously wished a manservant to do. And that included grammar and vocabulary. "There are shopping areas that keep up with Vernaculi fashions."
"Good. I really don't fancy having to shop for as much as I'm going to need, seeing as that's everything from the ground up. Casual, formal, workwear, underwear, and anything else I've forgotten. The same with magical clothing. I'll need stuff that'll show my social status and stuff that'll let me walk down the street without screaming out my finances. Better get me all the accessories and care products too. Magic knows I need to work out what to do with this bird's nest of mine.
"Put it all in my room inside the Room of Requirement. You know where I mean?" Dobby nodded firmly while remaining quiet as a dutiful servant did. "Good. Stick it all there and copy a handful of everything. I'll be staying at the Leaky Cauldron this summer. Book a room for me under the name Aetius and leave the copies there."
He and Snape had agreed that the man's use of one of his would-have-been names was a good way of hiding his identity.
"Is the Good Master not going back to that disgusting family?" The tone of the question made it crystal clear what Dobby thought of the Dursleys.
"He isn't. I'll get Vernon to sign my Hogsmeade permission slip and then drop me off at Charing Cross."
Dobby nodded again, hiding his thoughts behind a calm exterior. It wouldn't hurt the Good Master if his duties caused him to swing by Privet Drive to give the obese man a nudge into accepting the offer. Keeping such things to himself, the rejuvenated house-elf took a firm grip on his Master's letters and popped away.
Harry went to smile at the other elves, only to freeze at the awe each wore. He made a tactical retreat rather than lingering to find out if those admiring looks would progress into worship. He mentally swore at Salazar, knowing his ancestor would hear of this from the castle, and be laughing at his predicament.
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OoOoO
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18th June 1993
The Weasley herd, sans Percy, surrounded Harry and Hermione as they entered the Express. There was the usual chaos of everyone trying to get their luggage situation, while Harry lazily sat beside the window to keep out of everyone's way.
"I really should have thought of that," Hermione grumbled, not for the first time.
Harry's case was shrunk and in his pocket while Hedwig was let free to fly down to London, leaving the eye-rolling Gryffindor to have nothing to lug around. Harry couldn't understand her frustration. The twins were fourth-years. If they didn't know how to shrink something, he'd eat Sebastian. The girl was simply being obstinate in not asking them. Then again, there had to be a reason the brothers hadn't shrunk their own trunks, so perhaps Molly Weasley had laid down a rule? It wasn't like the family didn't constantly confuse Harry.
The twins were pulling out a pack of Exploding Snap cards when Harry caught sight of a posse of Hufflepuffs walking past their compartment. He immediately stood with an "excuse me," and a louder version of the two words had the Badgers turning as Harry stepped through the compartment door.
"Mister Finch-Fletchley, I want to thank you publicly for what you did," Harry declared, causing the Puffs to gain looks of confusion. He pretended not to notice how compartment doors were not-so-subtly being opened, or even the heads peaking out to outright watch the scene. Harry turned to the only other Hufflepuff that had his respect. "Miss Bones, I heard you defending me when the school decided I was the one attacking people. Thank you for that. What you might have missed was that Mister Finch-Fletchley here came to me the moment Madame Pomfrey released him from the Hospital Wing and apologised for believing the rumours. That this was in the Great Hall only shows the real character of your Housemate and the lack of character of the other students. You as well, Mister Macmillan. You apologised as soon as Hermione was attacked."
A sliding of the eyes made it obvious that Harry was counting the other Hufflepuffs among those who lacked character.
"You're...welcome..." the dark-auburn-haired girl stammered, blushing furiously at being called out for her words.
"Yes, you're welcome, Potter," Finch-Fletchley added, his voice far firmer than his Housemate's. "I really am sorry for thinking you were the heir."
"Me too," Ernie nodded alongside his friend.
"That part's understandable. I am a Parselmouth, after all," Harry waved the comment away, secretly amused at the group's shock at his blasé attitude towards the notorious magical gift. "It's a logical jump for that. What isn't logical is thinking I'd attack first-generation mages given my mother was one of the greatest who ever lived."
"First-generation?" Hannah Abbot asked, looking bemused at his term.
"Muggle means you're calling someone an ugly fool," he explained with a shrug.
"Wait," Ernie said, "You're saying your mum did something that night?"
"I'm saying she did everything that night. I was a baby. She was the brilliant witch who set up a ritual that saved my life at the cost of her own. I would have been spitting on her sacrifice to attack first-generation mages simply because of their birth."
While Susan was notoriously shy outside of her circle of friends, curiosity was a powerful motivator. "Okay, Potter, what was the monster, anyway?"
Harry made a show of pulling up his right sleeve to reveal the bite scar, smirking as their eyes widened. "A basilisk."
"You should be dead..." Hannah Abbot gasped. Harry couldn't resist his parting comment.
"Yes, that's why everyone has stuck me with the 'Boy Who Lived' label. Enjoy the rest of the journey."
Harry re-entered the compartment, smoothly closing the door behind him, and mentally rolled his eyes at the shocked looks he was getting. He almost got to his seat before the first comment was made.
"That's why I'm the Boy Who Lived," Ron grumbled, the tips of his ears reddening.
"Would you have preferred Ginny's name spread all over the school?" He snapped back, piercing the boy with a hard glare that was mirrored by the other Weasleys. "It was either I say something like that or have them start asking too many questions. The whole damn school thought I was evil because I can talk to snakes. Do you really think they'd care that she wasn't doing it of her own choice?"
"Thank you, Harry," Ginny said, never taking her eyes off her brother, who shuffled in his seat at the sight of her fingers toying with her wand.
"Yes, Harrikins, thank you," Fred solemnly agreed, George nodding beside him. Harry waved a hand at the deck that the twin was still holding.
"Just deal, you joker, and get ready to lose."
The twins grinned at the challenge, only to be beaten to the punch when Ginny snorted. "You wish, Potter!"
"Harry," Hermione said, grudgingly taking the cards dealt her way. "Is what you said about Muggle true?"
"It is. Obviously, not everyone who uses it means it like that," he said, indicating the Weasleys with a tilt of the head. "First-generation feels more inclusive, anyway."
He could tell she was thinking of all the times people had called her parents Muggle. Probably including herself. Harry left her to it and focused on the card game.
He had been honest with the Hufflepuffs. Justin Finch-Fletchley's had raced up to him and pumped his hand like a politician looking for a favour during that dinner, but it got missed by the dual celebration of Hagrid's release and the end of the threat. That type of apology needed to be recognised. It didn't help that it also highlighted Harry's lack of worry over being a Parselmouth, and got it out there that the beast was a basilisk. He wasn't prepared to shout from the Astronomy Tower that he'd killed one, but answering a question when they were travelling back to London and out of Dumbledore's ability to do crowd control was perfectly fine as far as he was concerned. Especially as the bite scar would prove something large and deadly had bitten him.
The train ride began stilted as students constantly interrupted the group's Snap games to apologise to Harry for believing he was behind the attacks. He made sure they all knew he wouldn't accept a repeat performance. Ron was conflicted, seemingly frustrated at Harry getting the attention, yet happy that Harry didn't answer questions that might indicate Ginny's forced involvement. The twins perked up when Ron remembered how desperate Ginny had been to tell them something and then gave their devil-grins when she revealed she had come across Percy kissing the Ravenclaw Penelope Clearwater. They had something new to tease their older brother over.
Harry forcefully ignored the memory of Ron declaring her information was something more important and the reason Ginny had been taken to the Chamber. The Express ride back to London wasn't the time or place to deal with his friend's secret bigotry.
The surprise of the journey came after he had said goodbye to the Weasleys, and he and Hermione were moving towards the portal to the non-magical side of King's Cross. His first human female friend asked if the Dursleys would be proud of Harry's actions that year. He couldn't stop himself from laughing at the thought. "Proud? All those times I could have died and didn't manage it? Hermione, they'd be furious if they knew."
He didn't give her a chance to reply, waving hello to the Grangers before slipping into the crowd. He easily found Vernon, the fat bastard giving off an air of someone others needed to avoid. Not because he a dangerous animal, but an overly aggressive and combative one. Petunia stood next to her husband, her nose so far in the air it was a surprise a pigeon hadn't flown up a nostril by accident.
"Where's your stuff, boy?" Puggy eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"How would you like to not see me again this summer?"
It was disturbing how much Vernon's moustache twitched and wriggled over his mouth as the man tried working out what Harry's angle was. His uncle was caught between snarling over his question, being ignored and wanting nothing to do with him and his 'freakishness.' The desire to have nothing to do with Harry won over his constant urge to belittle and abuse the pre-teen. "What do you mean?"
"Sign something, drop me at Charing Cross, and you'll not see me again until next year," Harry casually shrugged as though it was no skin off his nose which way Vernon went. And it wasn't. Not when he had the Portkey to Hogwarts and Dobby. If not for needing his Hogsmeade permission slip signed, Harry would have left Vernon waiting for him and taken the tube, but he refused to go without the visits to the nearby village that the rest of his year would enjoy.
Well...if not for using a false permission slip, so he had Vernon's signature to fake it for when the real one arrived with his third-year book list. But that was just a pesky detail neither Vernon nor the Hogwarts staff needed to know.
"Until next year, no matter what?"
"No matter what," Harry promised. Salazar had given him a second ring that would cover him in a powerful glamour for his time at the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon, to conceal his lack of being at Privet Drive.
"Deal," Vernon growled, leaning in close enough that Harry could almost smell the man's last meal. "And you'd better not show up until then, boy. Or else."
Harry withdrew his fake permission slip from his pocket rather than roll his eyes at the threat like he wanted. The man was an idiot for acting like it was his idea that Harry wouldn't be around. Fat fingers snatched the parchment out of his hand and Vernon slammed it on the car's hood as he pulled out the gold-plated Parker pen he always kept handy. A pen stolen from one of Vernon's bosses when the man had announced he was moving factories. Petunia and Dudley had hung on every word as Vernon described slipping into the man's office and taking the object he had always desired when the other man was busy saying his goodbyes.
Harry pulled his thoughts away from the random memory when Vernon threw the parchment at him. His Seeker reflexes were the only reason it didn't flutter to the ground. The trio got into the car, Vernon with a twisted smirk of triumph while Harry wore a neutral expression. Given the late evening time meant the trip between stations should only take around ten minutes, but it didn't surprise Harry when Vernon made it in less than five. The car door barely shut before the tires squealed and the car sped away.
Harry leisurely made his way from the station to the Leaky Cauldron. He was free of his relatives and their restrictions on his time. It was a heady thing that had him feeling better than he ever had. A quick duck in and out of a dark alleyway saw a different boy heading towards the now visible pub. The glamour was that of someone slightly taller than Harry's real height, with shoulder-length brown hair, blue eyes, and somewhat Mediterranean features and skin tone, and dressed in perfectly pressed trousers, mirror-polished shoes, and a smart blood-red shirt beneath a classy jacket. The ideal appearance of an upper-class 'Muggle-born' whose parents had been called away on a summer-long business trip.
The Leaky teamed with customers. Harry wondered if the people realised they were declaring to everyone else that they either didn't have any children at Hogwarts or didn't care enough about the children to be at home when they arrived back from school. He knew Salazar would be disgusted if it turned out they were regulars stuck in routines.
"Excuse me, sir," Harry spoke loudly to Tom, the barman, and owner of the pub, to be heard over the din.
"Just Tom lad. What can I do for ya?"
"I've got a room booked under Aetius..."
"Aye, a strangely dressed squib booked it," Tom nodded, eyes narrowing at Harry's age. Harry made a note to thank Dobby for concealing himself. He didn't even consider how his cover identity wouldn't have the most unique house-elf in the world working for him, and he knew Salazar would rip into him for the oversight. "I gotta ask, lad, whatcha doing here with the Express just arrivin'?"
"My parents got called away for a business emergency," he smoothly answered, giving a small wince to add to the tale. Harry was well aware they were being listened to by those closest. "Last time that happened, we were out of the country for six months, and I doubt I'd be able to skip time at Hogwarts if that happened again."
"Not if you're Muggle-born," Tom grumbled, almost too low for Harry to catch.
"The squib's someone who works with my parents. He promised to keep an eye on me, but he can't take me in for the summer."
Tom continued to eye Harry, only for the suspicion to clear from the man's eyes, and he then turned to get the room key. Harry realised he could feel Dobby close by and that his friend must have used his magic to nudge the barman into accepting his story. A mental thank you got a soft pulse back that gave Harry an impression of an eye roll.
"Here yer go, lad," Tom's words pulled Harry out of his own head, and he took the offered key with a thanks. He would get a good night's sleep and the next day would begin the first day of the rest of his life.
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OoOoO
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19th June 1993 – Room of Requirement
"I have decided that we will continue the broken days," Salazar informed Harry. The pair were sitting in the copied study that had become the place where they did most of their talking. Although the Room gave them anything they needed for Harry's lessons, they used the mock-up of the Chamber's hidden room as the place where they could be more than just a Master and Apprentice. "You have the freedom to explore the Alleys with no ties to your identity. It is a chance to connect and understand the people of this time that Harry Potter would not have. Do not waste it by making me the only one in your life."
Harry wanted to deny the words, but couldn't. The key part of Sebastian's lessons had been understanding and accepting his nature, for all the good and bad it contained. He knew he had a habit of latching on to individuals at the expense of branching out. He was like a mythological dragon hoarding what it had, so focused on not giving up its treasures that it didn't consider gaining more. After all, wasn't that what he did with his friends? He had clung onto both Hermione and Ron with a viscousness, while also using them as a shield to keep from reaching out to others. He was also close with the Quidditch team, but that had begun through necessity rather than desire. It was one reason he had agreed to reach out to the other Houses when the new September rolled around, and he had told Snape to force him to follow through with the plan.
As much as Harry wanted to retreat and avoid the outside world, he knew he couldn't. That he shouldn't. The boy nodded, his heavy sigh betraying his thoughts at the act.
"It is not the end of the world, Apprentice," Sal chuckled, picking up his ever-present cup of tea. Harry might be a proud Brit, but he'd known no one to drink their country's iconic beverage as much as Salazar did. Given that the drink had been brought to England less than half a century before forming of the Statute of Secrecy, and over six hundred years after the Founder's death, Harry found the man's obsession with it hilarious.
"Would you like to learn how little time you spend in classes while in Hogwarts?" the Lord of Magic rhetorically asked, switching to Latin and then repeating the question to continue Harry's language lesson. That the Founder used the words 'how little time' made Harry wonder if he was about to hear another rant about the – accurate - failing of the man's beloved school. "Less than fifty days over seven years per core subject."
"But that's.." Harry trailed off, getting a nod of understanding in return. "Really?"
"If you have the right teacher with the properly motivated student, you can, in a year's turn, take a neophyte into at the bare minimum someone who destroys their OWL in the subject. If not get them ready for their NEWTs."
Harry paused, thinking over what he had heard. One of Salazar and Sebastian's very first lessons had been to never believe what he was told was the absolute truth. Not without pre-existing proof. "What about homework?"
"To be used as proof to the teachers that their students understand the subjects taught and can adequately convey this understanding to others through the written word. The more students an educator has underneath them, the more they must rely on homework rather than on their ability to pass on their knowledge. Godric would be disgusted by McGonagall's laughable claim to be an educator. Her claim to be an educator is laughable as she is to Transfiguration what Snape is to Potions; a talented individual who should never teach outside of a select group of apprentices.
The comparison between the two professors shocked Harry, but even a cursory consideration proved it to be a correct one. How many times had McGonagall shown off a spell and then spent the rest of the lesson waiting for the students to get it? She did at least speak of the theory of Transfiguration and answer some questions, unlike Snape's preferred method of forcing them to research everything themselves and then sink or swim with the brewing process, but Harry had never heard McGonagall aiding a student having trouble. At least Professor Flitwick attempted to point out any errors he might catch in the usual chaos that were his Charms lessons. The Gryffindor Head of House only acted disappointed, telling them to keep working on it outside of class.
The interesting thing about Salazar was he never called the professors by their titles, nor did he consider them masters in their fields. For the Founder, a master could only be one if they personally elevated someone to Mastery-level knowledge. While Professor Flitwick had taken Lily under his short wing, and it was well known that Minerva McGonagall had worked under Dumbledore throughout her education, neither women nor any other student had gained their qualifications from the teachers. Salazar saw the distinction as being vital. It would be Salazar who would announce when he felt Harry was ready to graduate from Hogwarts, when he was at Master-levels skill and knowledge – sans having his own student - and when/if he became a Lord of Magic. The Ministry's Wizarding Examination Authority (WEA) might test him to make things legal, but it would be Salazar who declared his skill level.
"Your lessons with Sebastian will continue," his master informed him. "The first block of time will focus on your physical condition. You are on your way to a healthy mind, and now you must have a healthy body. For only then can you have completely healthy magic. Running, climbing, swimming, dancing, fencing, and unarmed combat. If it can be done without magic, you will do it. It is during this period that we shall do our history lessons and where you shall continue to learn of your place in society. You cannot allow physical exhaustion to distract your mind. And at some point, we will explore any talent you have in the arts."
While Harry wanted to shudder at the image he was being painted, three things kept him from rebelling over the crazy-sounding schedule; He knew Salazar wouldn't push him more than he could take; Salazar himself had gone through similar training, albeit without the time travel aspect; and that the Time-Turner usage would be his way of de-stressing.
"We will cover Arithmancy and Runes in your second and third blocks. These are the fundamentals of understanding and using magic. Spell-crafting, permanent enchanting, wards, and rituals are all things that require understanding in both subjects. These subjects are the foundation of becoming a Lord of Magic, as well as being your foundation to learn internal Blood Magic."
Harry's head tilted to the side. He remembered Sebastian's description of the two types of Occlumency shielding being like internal/external Blood Magic, and it seemed he was now going to find out what the Sorting Hat had been referring to.
"Rituals are an amazing thing, Apprentice," Salazar proclaimed, putting his empty cup down. The routine had become familiar to Harry, who mirrored his master in leaning forward, elbows on knees. He knew this was Salazar's tell for when something would cause his worldview to fundamentally shift. "You can use them to heal almost any wounds, fix problems with the mind, or take yourself to heights never before seen. But they require payment and cost. In Alchemy, we call this the Law of Equivalent Exchange. You only get out what you put in."
"They're considered Evil now," Harry pointed out, using the term in replacement for the way the Ministry and others threw the term 'Dark' around. Salazar gave a solemn nodded.
"They can be. Would you like the strength of a werewolf? Perhaps the speed of a vampire? The resistance to magic of a giant? All this is possible, but pushing rituals to such levels comes with not just the cost of the lives of others, but a cost to yourself. Doing such rituals will mutate you, taking you away from being human and into becoming the monster that lives within. It is said that Tom Riddle's appearance slowly become disfigured over the years, and such things are the cost of these types of rituals.
"There is only so far one can take such rituals before the personal cost twists who you are. This is because of the inevitable result of undergoing rituals that artificially take you beyond your limits," Salazar paused, waiting for Harry's sign that he understood. The boy realised it was akin to the Mind Arts in that true mastery only came from understanding and accepting himself, whereas those who didn't, ended up having things go wrong later on. Harry didn't expect the Founder's serious look to morph into a devilish grin. "But here is the question. What if you could increase your natural limits first? What if matching a vampire's speed and a werewolf's strength is something your body could naturally do when at its peak?"
"Inner Blood Magic?" Harry guessed, seeing the tangent turning back on itself to where his mentor had seemingly derailed the talk.
Salazar's tops became see-through, showing off a scar-covered fighter's physique, and runes appeared on every inch of the visible skin, lightly glowing the same colour as their eyes, the colour of Slytherin Family Magic. Each rune flowed into its neighbour, causing the lines to overlap and blend, eventually becoming indistinguishable in the glow. Harry's eyes went wide at the sight as he struggled to imagine how long it had taken the man to put them on his own body, and he could see where some runes vanishes beneath the man's pants. The glowing symbols faded away in the same controlled manner they appeared, with his clothing becoming opaque once more.
"Not everyone can gain Mastery in inner Blood Magic," the Founder explained. His voice was soft but clear. A serious teacher making sure his student listened. "But even those who cannot listen to their magic enough to move past the basic stages can learn what I will teach you. This will be exhausting and it will hurt. Consider it the difference between permanently enchanting yourself and using transfiguration to change what you are on a fundamental level. But it will be worth it. And while those sensitive to magic can pick out when a person has performed several rituals, only another inner Blood Mage can pick one of us out."
"What's the cost?"
Salazar gave a firm nod at the question. It was one of the key parts of magic that Harry was learning. Everything had a cost. The man shifted back in his chair, but Harry stayed forward, never taking his eyes off his ancestor.
"While the foundation of this magic is similar for all, the runic arrays are personal to everyone. You must carve them into your body while channelling your magic through the wounds. This not only forms a connection between your magic, blood, and the runes themselves, but it makes sure your body considers each inscription a separate piece. If done properly, you could have a multitude of arrays overlapping and active simultaneously, yet never have to fear they will clash. The cost is simple. While the rituals that push you past your natural limits can have negative effects if done wrong, very few will actively kill the one doing them. You might wish for death, but ninety times out of a hundred, you'll still be alive. Screw any of this up and you die. This magic is slow, meticulous, and requires the practitioner to understand their limits and weaknesses in ways people like Riddle, or even Dumbledore, never could." [1]
"Dumbledore?" Harry blinked, confused by the mention of the Headmaster.
"I do not doubt that the man has done many rituals to boost himself, even if he has avoided the Evil ones."
That made sense to Harry. He knew from his first year that the Headmaster had apprenticed under Nicolas Flamel, a man old enough to have been alive when the laws on what magic could be taught were far different from modern times. "Why?"
Harry didn't have to elaborate, and he was thankful his ancestor didn't pretend to misunderstand the question.
"You could take a series of potions, undergo age-old healing rituals, and come out of it healed of all the trauma of your life. Or you could take control and rebuild yourself to what you should have been, and then spit in the eye of those who made you suffer by becoming greater. You have suffered, Harry. Have been made to suffer a body that was deliberately made weaker and smaller. Take it from someone who knows the feeling of looking in the mirror and knowing he rebuilt himself through his own hard work. There is nothing like it. By doing it this way, you are doing it all yourself."
Tears prickled the corners of his eyes, and a lump seemed to grow in his throat. Harry recognised the offer from one abuse victim to another. A chance to remake and fix everything the Dursleys had done to him, not by waving a wand, but through blood, sweat, tears, and hard work.
"The second reason is that it would enable you to claim the anomalies you are saddled with," Salazar continued, pulling Harry through his thoughts before they could spiral. The Room's magic had allowed Salazar to do an in-depth analysis of Harry's body and magic. "You have a handful of bindings restricting your magic. My guess would be they are childhood bindings to restrict any accidental magic, nothing more. They don't affect your wanded spells, but they do impact how you interact with your magic. Then you have an improperly cast connection to a blood ward that the idiot tied into Lily's work. Again, it is affecting your connection to your magic. And finally, you can do something special with that venom and tears flowing through your blood."
Harry didn't need his mentor to continue. The first two reasons were enough for him, and he suspected Salazar could read the decision in his eyes.
"Third, the basics of inner Blood Magic allow you to access your Animagus forms far easier than any of the modern methods. In fact, it was the outlawing of this magic that led to the creation of the modern methods."
"Wait, forms?"
"What do you think you know of Animagi?"
"Nothing much," Harry admitted, not blinking at the turn of phrase Salazar had used. "Mum was pretty light on details, and the only thing I could find in the library was the repeated mention of people only having one, and that it's believed you can't turn into a magical animal."
"The Animagus form represents the inner self," Salazar's smirk immediately warned Harry that he was way off. "Apprentice, do you truly believe that a single animal can represent the entirety of a human soul?
That single question blew the information to pieces, especially as Salazar pushed on. "Just like with wandlore, we are not so simply defined. Excitable or studious, martial or a healer, fun-loving or serious. We can be all these things, and even all of them at once. And yet, even in my time, it was mistakenly believed there was only one animal of our soul."
"How did you discover the truth?"
"I was not the first person to be born a Parselmouth in these lands, and it was common knowledge that all Parselmouths have two Animagus forms. Not can have, do have. What was considered our 'proper' form, and the one connected to our Parsel Magic."
"If Parsel Magic gave someone two forms, then are the forms truly the soul in animal form?" Harry asked with a frown, wondering at the logic of magicals.
"That was Godric's question. And in my travels to see my father, I came across a fascinating fact. Some Parselmouths had basilisks as their snake forms."
"Well, that answers that question," Harry snorted, getting a chuckle from the Founder. He leant back in his chair to stare up at the ceiling, speaking his thoughts aloud. "If we can have multiple forms, and even magical forms, why isn't this known?"
"Because of the problem of becoming an Animagus using any other method than what Godric and I created through Blood Magic. Every other process takes the parts your animal form is based on, and then makes those characteristics the person's dominant traits. Becoming an Animagus doesn't just reveal the animal within. It forces the magical to never not be the animal."
"Professor McGonagall, the Marauders, mum...?"
"Whatever parts of their soul their animals represented became the most dominant part of their nature, yes," Salazar confirmed. "Godric and I had to find a runic system that would allow the bringing out of a person's animal without it overriding their personality. Such a thing is only possible through the mastery of self that you have been going through with Sebastian, and an elaborate array focused on Mind Magics.
"But that is not the most worrying aspect of the Animagus magic," the Founder warned. Harry's gaze snapped down to stare at the man. "We found that having a magical Animagus form enhances the personality influence to dangerous degrees," the Founder warned. Harry's gaze snapped down to stare at the man. "Now, our magic never lets something naturally be a danger to ourselves. Talents are not dangerous to those who have them. It was Helga who realised what this meant when she noticed the obvious pattern of basilisk Parselmouths. Someone with a magical Animagus must have a second magical animal to balance the first out. If they have three, then they must have a fourth, and so on. If the animal someone can become has even a spark of magic about it, they will always have a mirror animal equally magical to keep the first's influence from getting too strong. And that made our invention of the array even more important."
"This isn't the method you shared with mum though," Harry doubted Lily would have kept all of this out of her journal.
"It isn't. She decided she would not get into Blood Magic. The method I gave her was the one that existed when I was alive, a far easier way than what is commonly used today. And therein lies the last reason why I have decided you will learn inner Blood Magic as quickly as possible."
Harry felt the shoe ready to drop, especially as Salazar took a lengthy pause to build the suspense. A narrowing of eyes got his ancestor to smirk, breaking the tension.
"Despite not using any form of time manipulation, Lily mastered enough Blood Magic to create the ritual that saved your life. A majority of it involved drawing runes on both of you so that her magic would aid in awakening yours, giving you the strength to survive Riddle's attack. I know every rune she used, Apprentice, and that is not one of them." Salazar forcefully pointed at the famous scar. "Which makes me think it is a sign of exactly what Lily's ritual awoke in you. Your non-Parsel, magical Animagus form." [2]
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OoOoO
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Hogwarts – Teacher's lounge
Severus did his best not to sigh. The brats were all at home while the chief brat and bane of his existence had become a ghost in the wind, with Severus being the only one aware of that fact. And he only knew of Lily's child's plan in case an emergency came up, and it was found that the Saviour was missing. He had potions to brew and correspondences to write, yet he was stuck in Dumbledore's end-of-year-pow-wow. Although the staff had a similar meeting near the end of the summer when they were preparing for the new school year, this version always had a 'special' topic.
"And now on to our future third years," Dumbledore declared, far too cheerfully for Severus' tastes. He was only keeping himself from cursing the man through extensive Occlumency use and was not looking forward to the consequences once he got out of the manipulative old coot's sight. How he hadn't already cursed the man who forced Lily to wed Potter, Severus didn't know. "Do our Heads have anyone attempting all the classes?"
To a teacher, including the suspiciously swaying, sherry-scented Trelawney, they all turned to look at McGonagall.
Rather than hire teaching assistants to help with extra classes, take the time and effect to create a timetable that didn't have key subjects overlap, or an equally sensible option of not allowing students to take every subject available, Albus Dumbledore had declared the halfwits they were forced to teach should be allowed to use Time-Turners for educational purposes. Because it made perfect sense to give brats going through puberty extra time to suffer those hormonally chaotic years, thereby passing on that extra suffering to their already tormented professors.
Thankfully, three out of the four Heads actually had the brain cells to rub together to spark up the thought that just perhaps it wasn't a good idea to grant immature children with too much social awareness, too little political savvy, and less self-control than a rampaging Erumpent during mating season the ability to manipulate the fundamental fabric of time!
Severus merely questioned his snakes' cunning at taking classes they didn't need and then lambasted any fool who thought being thirteen meant they were wiser than him until they gave up the moronic idea. He knew that Filius only had to raise one of his impressively bushy eyebrows, give a statistical quote on the rapid decline of grades for anyone opting for such stupidity, and all the man's little ravens buried themselves in their books to soothe any damaged egos. Severus had a bet with Pomona that their half-goblin colleague made up the stats on the spot and was four years into trying to get the tricky little bastard to admit it without asking him outright.
He was pretty sure the cheeky bugger knew this and was stringing them along.
Severus didn't know what horrific communal hugging and sharing of problems program was used to keep the Hufflepuffs from taking such a step, nor did he ever want to, but the pack-orientated vicious little monsters hadn't had a single student attempt the insane plan since Severus had become Head of Slytherin House. Something Pomona was rightly proud of it.
And that left the suicidal lemmings who had an obsession with the colour red. As much as Severus respected Minerva as a person, as well as her talent in Transfiguration, he was well aware of her terrible shortcomings as Head of Gryffindor. And this was before Lily's brat had revealed moronic activity even he hadn't thought she was capable of.
"I have two students this year, Albus," the woman in question stiffly answered, ignoring the looks from the other three Heads as she always did. "Hermione Granger discovered that Percy Weasley gained 12 OWLs. She now wishes to experience everything Hogwarts has to offer."
"Of course she does," Severus groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose at the thought of the frustrating girl burning herself out, and the agony that would spread to those in the vicinity. Granger constantly overdid her work to the point of failing the assignment, and he didn't doubt she'd do it for all her electives as well. "Did you perhaps explain to her that the Pompous Weasley hadn't done twelve subjects?"
Pre-OWL students were unaware that, with enough skill, they could earn up to three OWLs from a single subject. One for OWL-level knowledge, one for NEWT-level, and one for Mastery-level. A student could feasibly earn 21 OWLS from Hogwarts' core subjects alone, meaning Percy Weasley's twelve from ten subjects was not extraordinary. Something to be proud of, yes, but not anything they hadn't seen before. The boy hadn't even been the first Weasley son to do it as William Wesley had done the same, before choosing to chase Gringotts paid eventual horrific death in an ancient tomb of some lost and forgotten self-important nitwit with delusions of mediocrity over being in the same country as his mother.
Although no one had ever done so, Severus had a sinking feeling that the King of Brats was going to make his life hell by getting as close as anyone could to a perfect OWL record given that the boy was now being taught by Salazar Slytherin himself. The only thing that was palatable about such a concept was how obvious the boy was with wanting to honour Lily and not Potter. It would be in her name that he did such an achievement.
Minerva ignored his barb as he knew she would, and he ignored the old man's 'Severus' rebuke, as everyone knew he would. Dumbledore had already marked the know-it-all down as getting one of the infernal devices. Merlin only knew how the old fool kept getting possession of the bloody things, as the Department of Mysteries preferred to keep them in their own greedy hands.
"To my surprise, Mister Potter requested to change his electives," the head lion continued, catching everyone's attention. "I was disappointed in him choosing Divination and Muggle Studies alongside Care of Magical Creatures. Really, what would James and Lily have said about that choice? But he came to me this past week to drop Muggle Studies and add on Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."
Severus barely contained his snarl at her use of the boy's parents to put the brat down. He knew he was a bitter and hypocritical man, but what was Minerva's excuse? He caught a twist of Filius' lips that told him their colleague had equally infuriated the other man.
"Curious indeed," Dumbledore mused, eyes twinkling as he brushed a hand through that damnable beard. Severus randomly wondered what unique and horrifying potions could be made from it should he ever give in to the urge to cut the bloody thing off. "Did he say why?"
"Aside from a lengthy rant about how he was Muggle-raised and was better off receiving a Wizarding Studies education instead, no."
"Perhaps," Severus drawled, his words filled with enough venom to catch everyone's attention. Trelawney had spun around at the sound with such force he was sure she'd have fallen out of the chair if her elbow hadn't smashed into the desk. They all ignored her whimpers of pain. "Someone took pity on the boy and gave him an introduction to the classes, rather than throwing a list of subjects his way and telling him to pick something."
"Excuse me?" Minerva hissed, looking like she wanted to claw his eyes out for the jab. The other two Heads gaped at the insinuation.
"Come now, Minerva, you know things are rarely kept secret at Hogwarts. I overheard some of my snakes crowing at the thought of a year's worth of Gryffindors forced to make decisions that influence their entire lives with no faculty aid. Why, they even heard a rumour that your lions were closing their eyes and jabbing their wands at the list as a method of choice."
And hadn't that infuriated Severus when Lily's boy had informed him of the insanity inside the Gryffindor Common Room that Easter. It had been the Thomas boy who did the wand trick, while the terror of cauldrons that was Neville Longbottom had apparently almost been in tears from the overload of 'suggestions' coming from his domineering grandmother and surviving family members. He knew for certain that Minerva had given Lily careers advice during their second year, so he had to wonder what had changed with the woman.
"Now, now, Severus," Dumbledore spoke out before the old tabby could. "You said it yourself, merely rumours."
"And my lions have all the information they need. Thank you very much."
Minerva deliberately looked only at Dumbledore, ending the conversation. Severus shared glances with the others as no one missed she hadn't claimed to have helped her charges.
"That they do," Dumbledore agreed in a tone that had Severus mentally debating adding an incurable laxative into the Headmaster's food the day before he vanished for the next ICW meeting. "Young Harry will have to contend with Divination and Care. He may pick another, but he hasn't shown enough focus in his schoolwork for me to be comfortable with him doing the full load. Alas, for all his wonderful actions, he has academically kept pace with young Ronald more than Miss Granger."
Severus stared at the man who had kept him out of Azkaban and couldn't work out if he was criminally insane, highly manipulative, or completely barmy. While it was true that the boy's grades were nothing special, everyone secretly treated the first two years of Hogwarts as more for getting the students settled into an educational environment and laying the foundation for future learning. Many students had been in the bottom half of their classes, only to crush everyone around them once the electives came into play.
He decided it didn't matter what was going on in the lemon-flavoured brain of Albus Dumbledore. Severus Snape was going to sit back and enjoy the chaos as Lily's son shattered every conceived notion the world had of him.
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OoOoO
SN:
[1] – Inner Blood Magic is based on Bloodmagic from Miranda Flairgold's "A Second Chance at Life" and its two sequels here on (the third book is sadly unfinished). Strangely enough, for all the series' world-building, there's not really much true detail when it comes to this magical system beyond the carving process and how it affects Harry immediately as he finishes each ritual. My aim with borrowing this is to explore the concept in my own way.
[2] A merging of the Animagus issues HP struggles within the same series mentioned in 1 (A Second Chance at Life) and the highly enjoyable "Harry Potter and the Lightning Scar" (by questionablequotation) which has his form being how Harry survived Halloween.
Anyone who has/will read those stories knows what form Harry has. Harry himself doesn't.
Last Edited - 20th June 2023
Word Count – 11.567
Previous Word Count – 11,655
