Book 2: Binds of Blood

Chapter 5 - The Serpents Coil.

Harry was ready to throttle Professor Lockheart. It had been a week of detentions with the man, and Harry still had over a week left before he was free of the insistent man's inability to talk about anything other than himself. Professor Snape dragged Harry to Lockhart's office for an entire week, forcing him to endure two hours' worth of mind-numbing tasks. Today's extraordinary detention involved Harry reading some of Lockheart's old interviews.

If you call him that, the Professor was prancing around the room dressed in a ridiculous-looking outfit that would give Headmaster Dumbledore a run for his money on silly colours. This unfortunate evening's colour was a faded pink salmon, which was the correct name for the colour, according to the man, but Harry honestly couldn't care less.

"So Harry, now that you are all finished reviewing some of my greatest speeches, can you tell me why I hand out this wonderful privilege to you?"

Lockheart's beaming smile was annoying and was the only thing Harry could think of, but he figured that probably wasn't the answer his professor sought.

"No, sir."

A flash of disappointment appeared across Lockheart's face. Harry had caught a lot of moments like these. Ones where his answers disappointed the Professor, yet Harry couldn't figure out why.

"I am trying my hardest here, Harry, but you're not making this easy for me."

"I am not sure what you mean, sir." Harry was confused. Lockheart was clearly pushing for something, but Harry felt utterly clueless.

Lockhart's smile waved slightly but quickly returned to its full beaming glory. "You're the boy who lived."

Harry felt the usual flash of irritation at that title but ignored it. He had gotten good at that. "I am aware, sir."

"No, you're not. You don't get it. You're a celebrity, the celebrity. You haven't had any coaching, have you?"

"Coaching?" Harry was definitely lost at this point.

"Oh wow." For the first time since Harry had met the man, he was convinced he was seeing the true Lockheart. Gone was the beaming smile, replaced with a slightly awarded grin.

"Well, you probably have found the past few weeks completely pointless." During most of these detentions, the man who had spent the time prancing around the classroom grabbed a chair and pulled it to face Harry before falling into it.

"I am sorry, Harry. I assumed you were aware of everything that came with your fame and had just been given a rubbish publicist, and it would have been rude to come out of nowhere and start teaching you. It would go against every celebrity's social rule."

"Sir?"

"Yes, I know, it's kind of me to try to help without expecting any credit, but alas, I have failed. You are going to need some direct coaching, it seems."

"Sir…"

"It's an overwhelming feeling to know that not only will I teach you Defence Against the Dark Arts, but now I will teach you how to properly manoeuvre in the public eye."

At this point, Harry had utterly lost his patience. His utter confusion and irritation at this bumbling fool spouting about some rubbish Harry couldn't understand was reaching its limit.

"Sir!" He snapped.

Lockheart looked slightly taken aback by Harry's tone of voice. "Sorry. I sometimes forget how to speak to people without putting on a performance."

Harry was stunned; adults rarely apologised to him, and Lockheart wasn't on his list of people he had ever expected to say those words to him.

Awkwardly, Harry spoke. "It's okay, sir. Could you just explain what is going on, please?"

"Yes, of course. You see, Harry. You are a celebrity."

Harry felt a slight heat rush to his face. "I really don't think I am Sir."

Lockheart looked at Harry, his eyes tracing over his face and focusing on the scar always covered by his messy black hair. "There are two types of Celebrities. Ones whose fame, like my own, is a constant battle, with each successful book I write providing me with a moment of respite. If I stop even for a second, I shall be flung from my island of importance into the terrible ocean of irrelevance."

Harry thought over his words. The man had a flair for the dramatic, and with a saying like that, Harry could see how he had become a successful author. Still need to know how this is connected to what Lockheart had been rambling on about earlier.

"Your fame is much more Permanent. They will never stop watching the boy who lived, regardless of how Harry Potter chooses to live his life."

Harry was at a loss for words, but Lockheart continued before he could say anything.

"I am offering you an opportunity. Let me train you. I am not the best defence teacher, I am aware of that, but I think I would be pretty good at helping you learn the ropes of fame. How to avoid questions you don't know the answer to and properly deal with annoying fans. Even how not to look speechless when you are lost for words."

Harry readjusted his position on the seat, uncomfortable with how easily he had been read by Lockheart.

"Think about it, Mister Potter."

Harry sat in silence. Lockheart had stood without a word and made his way behind the desk. Leaving Harry to think over his offer.

He thought over the past few detentions he had endured, from helping Lockheart reply to fan mail to rereading old press statements that the man had made. Honestly, it all clicked into place for Harry. Letting out a small chuckle at the strange but, in his own way, a charming gesture the lacklustre defence teacher had done for Harry.

Moving on from the man to his offer, Harry hated to admit he had a valid point. Since entering the magical world, Harry had honestly tried his hardest to ignore the stares. His fame followed over him like a strange shadow. One that Harry never really knew how to interact with. He wasn't used to being important. Years with the Dursleys had broken any part of him that felt special. Discovering magic had been so unexpected, and it came alongside the revelation that Harry Potter was a name everyone knew was not something he could wrap his head around.

'Your fame is much more Permanent. They will never stop watching the boy who lived, regardless of how Harry Potter chooses to live his life.'

That line from Lockheart was playing over in Harry's head. It was true. They wouldn't stop watching him, no matter how hard he tried to keep to himself.

"Sir… I think I would like to take you up on that offer."

LINE BREAK

Tracy loved it when her mother's owl landed in front of her, especially when it had been a while since she had sent off her last letter. Hurriedly untying the envelope from the bird's letter, she tore it open and began to read.

Dear Tracy,

You can't believe my disappointment to hear that the famed Lockheart is just another good-looking man with a completely empty head. I mean, it is not surprising, but I guess I still held out hope of him sweeping me off my feet. I smile while writing that because I can imagine your disgusted face upon reading about your mother's fantasies.

Tracy's disgusted face quickly turned into a warm smile. Her mother knew her far too well.

I apologise for how long this letter has taken to arrive. I have been battling my own empty-headed man. However, unlike yours, mine isn't as pleasing to look at. Peter Johnson is a dick, like a 100% dick. You would think he would tire of being such a prat, yet every time I have the misfortune of having to work with the man, he surprises me with just how much of a dick he is. Honestly, you would have loved my rant when I got home from work yesterday. It was almost magical.

Tracy groaned at this. This man had become the bane of her and her mother's life since he had gotten that job in the DMCP. With her mother being a leading figure within the DMLE, specialling in cases involving children, she often worked closely with the DMCP, and since Peter Johnson was a high-ranking official within the DMCP, the two often butted heads on how to handle certain cases. Especially those involving muggle-borns or muggle-raised children.

Apart from dealing with that idiot, my life has been pretty alright, although I have some weird news. I received an invitation from Lord Black. He wanted to have a meeting with me about something. Unsurprisingly, he was reluctant to explain just what the meeting would be about over the letter. I am not an idiot, though, so I refused quickly, yet he is pretty persistent with the matter, so I am curious as to what such a reclusive man could want with a little old me.

Now, this was something Tracy didn't like reading; whatever Lord Black wanted, she was sure it wouldn't be good for her mother. Glancing quickly at Daphne, she mulled over asking her friend for help, but decided against it. The last thing Tracy wanted was for her and her mum to get caught in a power struggle between House Black and House Greengrass.

Anyway, enough about my work, how's Hogwarts? Any new updates since we last spoke? How's Daphne doing? How's Harry recovering?

Tell me everything with as many details as you can fit into a letter. You know how much I live for school drama.

Love you, and I miss you so much. xx

From your delightful mother.

Tracy smiled as she finished the letter. Merlin, she missed her Mum.

LINE BREAK

Ron Weasley shivered as he made his way onto the empty Quidditch pitch. The cold winter air had blanketed the fresh grass in white frost.

He was dressed in the hand-me-down practice Quidditch uniform that his brother Charlie had given him when he graduated. With Daphne's assistance, the uniform colours had been changed from the gold and red of Gryffindor to the silver and green of Slytherin.

It had been a slightly emotional moment for Ron to see the deep red turn emerald green, yet Tracy's other present, mocking commentary of life quickly dispersed any lingering melancholy. Hanging out with the two girls had honestly been a lot of fun. He had missed the seamless back and forth the two had. It reminded him of how Charlie and Bill used to act before they moved out.

The uniform was definitely old; it did nothing to help protect him against the winter chill, and he felt a little ridiculous in it, especially since he wasn't technically on the quidditch team but had no idea what else he could wear. Adrian hadn't exactly been clear on what Ron should expect from today.

He found the older boy, dressed in the same outfit he had been on trail day, holding two brooms. One was clearly his own, the Comet 260, the best comet you could get. The other was a Cleansweep, but Ron couldn't tell which model.

"Hey Ron, is Harry joining us?" Miles was far too awake for this time in the morning. The keeper's energy took Ron off guard.

Ron thought back to his conversation the other night. Harry had come back from his detention and explained the slightly confusing conversation he had with Lockheart. Ron hadn't known what to make of it, but Daphne had been intrigued by the offer and glad Harry had taken it. It was painfully obvious how uncomfortable Harry was with his fame. Ron had then asked if he was still up for the training Miles had offered, which Harry had completely forgotten about, to which the boy had said he wouldn't be able to come. The detention at night meant he needed to catch up on some of his work.

"No, sorry, Miles. I hope you're still up for just training me." Ron asked, slightly jokingly but with a twinge of worry that the Keeper had only agreed to train Ron if Harry came along.

"Not a problem. Probably for the best, to be honest, I don't have much experience teaching people how to be good seekers. The only real advice I could give would be to stay out of my way." He laughed at this as if it was some joke that Ron really didn't get.

Feeling slightly relieved to hear this, Ron let out a small sigh. "So, what exactly are you planning on teaching me?" He asked, hoping it was rude.

"Well, everything, to be honest. As I said on tryout day. You have potential and some decent skill, but you are far too in your head to show that. So the aim of these little get-togethers is to refine the skill, bring out the potential and get you out of your head." Miles finished as if this was the easiest thing in the world.

"Umm… are you sure you want to waste so much time on me?" Ron asked because clearly teaching him was going to take ages to do. He didn't want to waste the older boy's time since he was sure he was busy.

"Well, for starters, it probably won't be a waste of time since you aren't going to fail, and honestly, I have the time." The confidence in the older boy's tone was slightly intimidating. He said everything as if it was a fact rather than a hope, relying on Ron.

"Anyway, enough chit-chat. Let's get to business. What do you know about the workout scheme of a Keeper?"

Ron's mind went blank. He hadn't expected to answer questions.

Miles answered his question without leaving Ron to bathe in the silence. "Well, unlike a Chaser who needs to be able to run the distance or a seeker who needs to be able to store his energy for quick dashes and recover quickly. A Keeper needs to be able to do both. Keep themselves going for however long is needed but keeping enough energy stored for those tense moments when the only thing between the opponent and them scoring a point is you and your broom."

Ron nodded, his excitement beating out any remaining worries.

"So today, we start building up your stamina. I do this five times weekly, but you won't need to."

"Why not?"

"I want to go pro, so I try to maintain an almost professional workout routine. But you're just starting out, so I don't expect you to do nearly anything close to that."

Ron nodded. He had heard all about the dedication it took to become a professional from Charlie when that had still been his dream before Charlie had discovered his love of Dragons. Then, nothing else had mattered.

"So what do we do?"

"Laps of the pitch. five today."

"What!" Ron's eyes widened. That was a lot of running.

"Yup. After that, we can do some basic keeper drills and then a stretch down and head back in."

"You just expect me to do that? I don't.."

Miles cut Ron off. "Nope, no excuses. Don't try to beat me, don't try to outrun me. Do five laps, then get a broom. That's all. Now go."

The older boy then just took off, running at a steady pace. Ron was shocked with how slowly he was running, to be honest. Ron took a good deep breath and followed. He tried to catch up and keep pace with Miles, but Ron was quickly left behind after half the first lap.

Ron felt his legs burning, and his lungs were tight. Miles slowed down till he was at peace with Ron. "Struggling already?"

Ron only managed to nod, not trusting he could catch his breath again if he spoke.

"It's normal. I recommend thinking about something not related to running. Maybe it is an issue you have been dealing with. Who knows, you might even figure it out."

The older boy then increased his pace, running slightly ahead of Ron. Thinking of what he had said wrong, ran his mind back over the minor issues that had bugged him. He decided his relationship with his mum and dad was one he would not fix while running in the Quidditch pitch.

One did spring to mine, though. It was about. How little time Ron, Harry and Hermione had spent together since returning to Hogwarts and Harry's recovery from the medical wing. It felt like they only really saw each other when they were getting ready for bed. Which was fine, but they were his best friends, people he'd known The longest at Hogwarts. It wasn't like he didn't enjoy spending most of his time with Daphne and Tracey, but he missed how close the gang had been before Ron had brought the other two into it, and Daphne, wild being pretty great, never really seemed to jail well with Hermione. Initially, Ron had been worried it was about Hermione's blood status, and it had caused slight friction between them until Tracy pulled Ron aside. It explained that Daphne didn't like Hermione because she found the girl to be a bit of a know-it-all and had nothing to do with her being a muggle-born. This had caused Ron to feel slightly embarrassed, but it still didn't sit right with him that two of his friends didn't get along.

His thoughts continued onto Hermionie, the pain from the running fading into the background as he continued to think. Hermione hadn't really been herself lately. The usually hard-working and slightly full-on girl had been much more subdued. A clear example had been when Harry tells them all about Lockhearts offer. Usually, the girl couldn't wait to comment, especially regarding Lockheart, but instead, she nodded before returning to her books.

Ron was now nearing the end of his first lap, and just as Miles had said, the answer to his recent problem was coming into focus. He was going to get Hermionie and Harry alone and get some answers from the girl about what was up with her while also spending quality time with his best mates. He came to a stop as he reached Miles. The older boy was standing and smiling at Ron.

"Well done, not bad for your first attempt." Ron was slightly annoyed at how much energy the Keeper had.

"Yeah, but still got four more to do so…"

"Nah, not today. One was what I wanted you to do."

Ron's eyes narrowed at Miles. "Then why tell me four?"

"You can figure it out."

Ron's mind poured over the words Miles had used at the start of this. He had wanted to challenge Ron's doubts. "You set me a challenge you knew I couldn't do."

"Correct, and you set your mind to it and completed some of it. By the end of the year, I expect you to do five full laps, but one is great for your first attempt. Honestly, I expected you to stop at the halfway point, but you kept going."

Ron just looked at the boy with disbelief, "Fine, what's next?"

The smile across Miles's lips was slightly unsettling, "Now we take to the sky. Pick up the broom."

Ron did as he was told; this hadn't been what he had expected.

LINE BREAK

The burned remains of the letter were the only warmth in the cold, abandoned classroom that Cassiopeia sat in. It was the same one she had come to often during her first two years at Hogwarts, the same one she had the conversation with Harry Potter in.

The embers died, and with them, so did the heat. It had been a while since a letter from her father required her to burn it, but this was one such letter. The words still swirled around in her mind as she sat in silence.

'My plans have moved to the point where I require your assistance once more.'

The small amount of pride she felt at these words still warmed her heart. It wasn't often her father required her help with anything, but to be needed for what seemed like a political move would cause her to hold herself high for a while. Her father was a complicated man. She knew this, and yet Cassiopeia loved him regardless. Her childhood was filled with warm memories of the man, but since last year, she had seen him come back to the world in a way she thought impossible. Aunt Narssica often told her that her father had become cold and distant since the end of the war, and while her Aunt would never acknowledge it, Cassiopeia knew it was due to the death of his brother. While she never knew her uncle, his death happened when she was two, and the brothers hadn't been on speaking terms for a while. Cassiopeia knew that his death had broken something within her father.

This new energy her father seemed to possess was one she loved to see in the man. It reminded her of why the House Black had such a fearsome reputation.

'Find Harry Potter and offer him a chance to free himself from the Muggles. Tell him that our house offers him sanctuary. If he accepts, then our plans will move forward.'

Unsure as to why her father wanted to claim guardianship over the most significant symbol for the world's light and progressives, she and her father were very much apart from those groups. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what her father was planning. He seemed to enjoy the game, even if it was clear she was a pawn in this plan.

Turning her attention to the mission was crucial for now. When would she get Harry alone to talk to him about this? The boy had been hard enough to pin down once. Her mind began to spin ideas of how she could convince him to talk, never mind accepting the offer.

Then the door slammed open, and Cassiopeia whipped around, her wand drawn and pointed towards the door.

There was Harry Potter in dishevelled robes, his black hair messy as if he had been running. However, Cassiopeia was fixated on the boy's green eyes. They shone with unbridled rage.

"I need your help."

LINE BREAK

Tom Riddle opened Ginny Weasley's eyes. It was perhaps one of the strangest feelings the spirit had ever experienced, the knowledge that the eyelids he was opening were not his own. Yet this did not cause the young Dark Lord to falter.

Taking control of the girl had taken a little too long for Tom's liking, but it had been a necessary wait. The girl might be young, but her sense of self was extreme, to the point where Tom feared that if he had attempted to overtake her too early, his control would have been fought. This would have slowed his plan far too much.

But this all mattered little, for now, he was in control and soon Hogwarts would remember what the heir of Slytherin could do.

Dear Readers,

To start with I would like to offer my sincerest apologies for the rather long and unexpected break I took from writing and updating this story, I would love to provide you with a long list of reasons but I have none to give other than the fact that my life got busy and I hit a bit of a wall in terms of motivation for writing this story.

I plan on returning to the update schedule of before, one chapters every two weeks. I hope you are all excited by my return.

As always, please comment if you enjoyed, comment why if you didn't and follow if you want to get the chapters as soon as they go live.

Sincerely,

Paddington123