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Hail Odysseus | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:Harry/Ginny, Other Genres: Action/Adventure Warnings: Death, Disturbing Imagery, Extreme Language, Intimate Sexual Situations, Spouse/Adult/Child Abuse, Violence/Physical Abuse Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 370 Summary: After believing that Harry Potter died in a house fire at the age of ten, the Wizarding world is shocked when he returns out of the blue, just in time to attend his seventh year at Hogwarts. They're even more shocked when he's Sorted into Slytherin. Hitcount: Story Total: 120148; Chapter Total: 7340 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: There was meant to be some author notes here, but after a day attending a work seminar at our regional head office my brain has turned to mush. Just move directly to the chapter… nothing to see here… Duh… oh yeah… must remember to thank Arnel for beta reading this… oh, I just did. |
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“Who’s there?” a rusty voice called out. “I know someone’s out there. Show yourselves!” Harry padded up to the iron bars. His golden eyes, subtly tinted with green, were able to pierce the darkness easily. Dimly, he could see a wretched, filthy man peering out of the small cell at him. “What the… you’re not a true animal! You’re an Animagus, I can tell!” the man rasped as he stumbled forward to grip the bars of his cell tightly. Calmly, Harry changed back into his human form and stepped forward until he was just inches away from the man. It was all he could do to stop himself gagging from the smell. The prisoner stank of rotting food and his own excrement. “Who… what…” the man mumbled before letting out a miserable sob. “Oh, Merlin! It’s finally happened. I’ve finally gone insane! James, why are you here to torment me?” “I’m not James,” Harry said quietly, “and I can assure you that I’m not a figment of your imagination, either.” “Then who the hell are you?” the man growled. “Why do you look like a young James Potter? Is this some sort of evil joke?” “I can’t help looking like my father,” Harry explained gently. “Harry? But you can’t be! My god, it is you! What are you doing here? How did you even get into this place?” the man demanded. “How I got here is a bit complicated. As for why I’m here, well, I’m here to break you out of this hell-hole,” Harry told him. “Stand back for a second, and I’ll get you out of this cell.” With his eyes wide in amazement, the filthy man shuffled backwards a few feet. Harry reached into his robes, and removed a small box which he opened. Inside the box was a lump of orange, plasticine-like material which Harry pressed against the keyhole of the cell door. He then took a small, match-like object and pressed it into the material. Taking his wand, he cast a Silencing Charm at the door, before removing a lighter from his pocket and using it to light the end of the match-like object. He then scurried back. “Stand as far away from the door as you can, Black,” Harry told him urgently. Harry watched in fascination as the plastic explosive detonated without any apparent sound. It was made even stranger by the fact he could feel the force of the explosion through the floor. He grinned as the lock on the cell door shattered to pieces. Yanking the door open, Harry hurried in and grabbed the stunned prisoner’s arm, dragging him out of the cell. As soon as they were out, Harry turned to the man. “Black, I’m going to need you to transform into your Animagus form. You then need to follow me, as I’ve got a secure route out of here,” he instructed the man. “But even if we get out of the prison, how do we get off the island? It’s a bloody long way to swim, you know,” Black pointed out in a shaky voice. “There’s a Disillusioned boat waiting outside. My guardian is waiting there for us, and he’ll take you to a secure place for you to hide,” Harry explained. For a moment, Black stared at him in disbelief, before he let out a soft chuckle. “It sounds like you’ve got everything planned out,” chortled quietly. “A fine godfather I am, needing to be rescued by my thirteen year-old godson.” “I’ve always been precocious,” Harry admitted with a smile. “Now, quickly, transform into Padfoot, before the Dementors return.” There was a slight blur, and where there had been a man moments before, there now stood a large, black dog. A second later, Harry also transformed and looked over at the dog, who was staring at him expectantly. With a flick of his tail, Harry took off at a furious pace, the dog close on his heels. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP HPHPHP “Mr Potter, can you please remain behind, if you would. I need to talk to you,” McGonagall called out. Harry sighed. He’d been hoping to make a rapid escape, but clearly the stern Scottish witch had other ideas. He sank back into his seat as the other pupils started to file out of the classroom. He couldn’t help but notice the rather smug looks on the faces of most of the Hufflepuffs. The class, as Harry had expected, had been an hour of complete boredom. Although McGonagall was obviously a talented teacher, the subject matter was old hat to him. He’d been performing Conjuration Spells such as they had practiced today since he was twelve and Gellert had chosen a lot more practical items for him to conjure than the pincushions and butterflies that McGonagall favoured. Once the last pupil left, shutting the door behind them, Harry looked expectantly at the witch. “Look, Professor, I really think this is a matter you should be discussing with my Head of House,” he began, but McGonagall waved his objections away. “No, Mr Potter, it’s not about your altercation with your Housemates that I want to talk to you about, although I will be talking with Professor Snape about that, rest assured. No, I wanted to continue the discussion we started in the carriage yesterday,” McGonagall stated. “I have taken the liberty of contacting the Ministry and, as you stated, you are not registered as an Animagus with them. The fact remains, however, that you are indeed one. I smelt it on you yesterday and I can smell it again today. I can definitely smell a canine presence about you, Mr Potter.” Harry smirked. If the old witch was going to keep pressing this matter he might as well have some fun with it. “Really?” he replied vaguely. “Funny, when I get a whiff of you I smell… pussy.” McGonagall glared at him. “That’s right, isn’t it? I can definitely smell pussy. I’d know that smell anywhere,” Harry insisted. “If you are referring to the fact that my Animagus form is feline, you are indeed correct, although I would ask that you not refer to it in those terms,” McGonagall snapped, her anger barely under control. “Oh, but it’s a much nicer way of describing it,” Harry said in a rather sultry voice. “Pussy… it kind of rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?” “Mr Potter, are you trying to deliberately anger me?” she asked heatedly. “Heavens, no! Why on earth would I want to upset you, Professor? After all, such an experienced witch such as yourself obviously has a lot that she could teach a young man such as myself. I promise to be an attentive pupil, and comply with your every demand. What would you like me to do for you, Professor?” he asked, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. For a second, McGonagall looked completely shocked. Harry was willing to bet that this was the first time in her career that she’d ever had a pupil making suggestive comments to her. Of course, this was all part of his plan to put her on the back foot, and it appeared to be working. The only risk was if she suddenly decided that she did indeed want a handsome, young toy boy, in which case Harry would probably be breaking several speed records in getting out of that classroom. “I– what– I mean–” McGonagall stuttered for a second, before her face resumed her stern expression. “Mr Potter, please stop acting the fool and explain to me why you have not registered yourself with the Ministry? I would be quite within my rights to report you.” “Indeed, you would,” Harry admitted, “although I would hope that you would speak with the Headmaster before doing so. I’m sure he would understand that someone in my position needs every advantage when facing the forces of evil that he can get. Being a secret Animagus has allowed me to escape the clutches of the Death Eaters more than once, and should I be forced to register myself that advantage would be lost.” “Well… I can see how that would be useful,” she admitted. “May I see you transformed, please?” Harry stood and stepped away from the desk. He transformed immediately and regarded the witch calmly as she inspected him. “A most impressive transformation,” McGonagall admitted. “You are clearly extremely skilled at this. Your form is most striking, too, although I’m a little disappointed that you didn’t take after your father in your choice of animal.” Harry changed back into his human form. “You knew my father was an unregistered Animagus?” he asked. “Of course, I did,” McGonagall scoffed. “Who do you think it was that subtly left out a few helpful text books for him to find, occasionally. I presume that you know the reason your father became an Animagus?” “To help Remus Lupin each full moon,” Harry confirmed, being careful not to let his ambivalence for the werewolf show. The man had been quick to condemn Sirius when he’d been accused of the murder of those Muggles, and his betrayal had hurt his godfather deeply. In addition, Lupin had never once made any attempt to find Harry while he’d been living with the Dursleys, even when he’d been named in his parents’ will as a guardian and they had not. “That was an act of great kindness on your father’s part, and of his friends,” McGonagall stated firmly. “There was absolutely no way the Ministry would have agreed to register three teenage boys as Animagi, so, to enable them to provide Remus help and support, I turned a blind eye. My silence was bought on the clear understanding that their abilities weren’t used for immoral or unjust uses. If I am to keep quiet about your abilities, then I will expect the same restraint from you. Do you understand?” “Oh, absolutely,” Harry agreed readily, silently thinking that his definition of an immoral or unjust acts probably differed greatly from the old witch’s. “Good. While I have you here, I would also like to ask why you didn’t appear to be exerting yourself in my class today. You are clearly a talented young wizard, but you certainly didn’t appear to be putting much effort into your studies. I will not accept sub-standard work, Mr Potter and I would like an explanation,” she demanded in a harsh tone. “Was my work substandard?” Harry asked in surprise. “I thought I achieved every task you set me.” “Indeed you did, but nothing beyond that,” she retorted. “Clearly, you were capable of achieving more, but you seemed happy to just put in the minimum effort. I expect my pupils to try their very best and will not accept anyone thinking they can just coast through this class.” “Then perhaps, Professor, you should set me rather more demanding tasks. Not engaging your pupils with challenging work is the fault of the educator, not the student, is it not?” Harry asked mildly. McGonagall’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Exactly why did you come to Hogwarts, Potter?” she asked bluntly. “As I told the Headmaster, to get my N.E.W.T. qualifications,” Harry replied, his tone becoming colder. “You could easily have hired a private tutor and taken the exams independently without ever once setting foot in this school,” McGonagall challenged. “It’s patently obvious that in Transfiguration at least you are above N.E.W.T. level. I don’t believe that taking your exams had any bearing on your presence here.” “Oh?” Harry said, feigning ignorance. “Indeed, I believe that you have unwisely come to Hogwarts to act as a spy for the Ministry,” McGonagall accused him. “Really? Now, why would I do a thing like that? But, just for argument’s sake, why would you think that acting for the Ministry would be an unwise course of action?” he asked calmly. “There are many things you don’t know, Mr Potter, things that could result in you getting seriously hurt or even killed. The Ministry has been painfully slow to react to the return of the Dark Lord, and even now they hide from the general public the true extent of the problem. If you allow yourself to become Scrimgeour’s puppet you are dooming yourself to defeat at Voldemort’s hands. The only person who truly stands a chance of defying the Dark Lord is Albus Dumbledore. You must stop trying to aid the Ministry’s misguided attempts at discrediting Albus and work with him! Only Dumbledore can help you, Harry, you must understand that,” McGonagall implored him. Harry considered her words for a moment. “Would you say you trust the Headmaster, then?” he asked. “Of course I do!” she exclaimed, seemingly shocked to be asked such a question. “Completely? Do you trust him to tell you the full truth?” he pressed. “He– yes, I do, I suppose,” she hedged. “There are times, I’m sure, when he is forced to keep certain things secret, but I’m certain that only occurs when he feels he has no choice and that lives are at risk.” “Really? So what if I was to tell you that he has lied outright to you purely to manipulate matters to his own advantage? Would you still have such complete faith in him?” Harry asked intently. “What rubbish is this? How can you, who has been in hiding for years, suddenly pop up and claim that Albus Dumbledore, one of the most respected wizards ever, is a liar? Mr Potter, I would ask that you keep such filthy insinuations to yourself!” she scowled. “I must say, I’m disappointed that you can dismiss what I have to say before you’ve even heard it,” Harry tutted. “You referred to me as Scrimgeour’s puppet, but it seems to me that you’re little more than Dumbledore’s.” For a second, McGonagall looked like she was going to explode. “Very well, Potter, I’ll listen to what you have to say,” she growled. “What terrible secrets has the Headmaster been hiding from me?” “Have you ever questioned the circumstances that led to me being placed with the Dursleys after my parents were killed?” Harry asked. “Didn’t it seem odd to you that Sirius Black never received a trial, or that there was never a public reading of my parent’s will?” “I… I must confess I never really thought about your parents’ will. Was there definitely never a reading?” she challenged. Harry shook his head. “I assume that their executor must have had a good reason, I suppose. As for Black, a trial wasn’t needed: there were multiple witnesses to the murder of the Muggles, everyone knew that he was your parents’ Secret-Keeper and the man virtually admitted his crimes when he was caught. A trial would have been superfluous.” “We’ll come back to the issue of the trial,” Harry noted, “but what if I told you that Dumbledore himself was appointed as my parents’ executor, and that their will remained sealed in Gringotts until I was able to order it read on my seventeenth birthday?” “I assume that Albus had a good reason for that, I suppose,” McGonagall ventured hesitantly. “You assume rightly. Specifically, I would guess that he didn’t want the part of the will where my parents categorically state that I am not to be left in the care of Petunia Dursley to become common knowledge, especially after he went to so much trouble to invoke all that wonderful magical protection on the Dursley’s house. Strangely, he seems to have raised that protective magic long before he knew what my parent’s wishes regarding my care were. In fact, bearing in mind how tricky most blood-based spells are, he seems to have been pretty quick off the mark in getting them in place. It was almost as if he’d already had the spells already prepared as a contingency. Of course, he would have only have done that if he had some reason to believe my parents were in danger of being found by Voldemort,” Harry informed her. “I really don’t know what you’re implying,” McGonagall said hotly. “Perhaps Dumbledore suspected Black would go bad and wanted a back-up in place. There’s no harm in planning ahead.” “Indeed, and the Headmaster seems to have planned ahead so well, too,” Harry agreed. “It doesn’t, however, explain why the will was sealed. If it had received a public reading, I suspect things would have gone very differently. Did you know that all magical wills include references to any appointed Secret-Keepers?” “Yes, I was aware of that,” McGonagall sniffed. “Imagine my surprise, therefore, when, on opening my parents will, I found that Sirius Black was not their Secret-Keeper, at all,” Harry stated. “What? What rubbish is this? Everyone knew that Sirius was James and Lily’s Keeper!” McGonagall shouted in outrage. “Yes, and just think about that for a second. Everyone knew Sirius was their Secret-Keeper? Do you really think it’s good practice to let everyone know who you use as your Keeper? Of course not! But, if you want to keep your true Keeper a secret, it’s a bloody good way of diverting attention away from them,” Harry reasoned. “So who was the real Keeper?” McGonagall demanded. “Peter Pettigrew. They picked a person no one would ever suspect they would use. Poor, weak, little Peter! Unfortunately for my parents, Voldemort had already identified Pettigrew as a weak link and recruited him. Imagine Peter’s glee when he was just handed the information that his Lord so desperately wanted,” Harry said grimly. “But– that doesn’t make any sense!” McGonagall protested. “If that was the case, why did Peter go after Sirius Black? And why did Black kill all those Muggles? No, you’re spinning me a fairy tale, Mr Potter! Black virtually admitted he’d betray James and Lily when he was apprehended, remember.” “You’ve got it all backwards! It was Sirius that went after Pettigrew and his exact words were ‘I’m sorry I let you down, James’ when he was arrested, and he was referring to the fact that he’d been the one to suggest Pettigrew as Secret-Keeper. It was Pettigrew who killed the Muggles as a distraction, allowing him to change into his Animagus form and escape. You do remember what his Animagus form was, don’t you, Professor? He cut his own finger off, too, just so people would think he died in the explosion. Pettigrew might have been a snivelling little rat, but he wasn’t stupid,” Harry snarled. “But if Peter is alive, where is he? Why has no one seen sight nor sound of him for fifteen years?” McGonagall demanded, although she didn’t sound as confident as she did earlier. “I didn’t say he was still alive, did I?” Harry pointed out. “No, he may have escaped from Sirius, but the little bastard is dead now. My only regret is that he died in such a way that his body couldn’t be produced to help clear Sirius’s name.” “You seem to have a very callous view of death, Mr Potter,” McGonagall said disapprovingly. “I must confess, I was shocked to hear your heartless comments about the deaths of your aunt and uncle. I’m sure your mother would have been horrified at the unfeeling way you described the death of her sister.” “Oh, I know for a fact that Mother thought her sister got exactly what she deserved,” Harry growled dangerously. “And how could you possible know that? I know that Lily didn’t become a ghost, so I fail to see how she could have communicated her opinions to you,” McGonagall snapped. “You really would be surprised at what I know,” Harry said, in a low voice. “I probably know a damn sight more than is good for me, I dare say. But please, never, ever, assume that I don’t know the wishes of my parents. My mother had come to loath her sister and truly despised that fat piece of shit that she married. If she’d been alive to see first-hand how the Dursleys treated me for the nine years I was under their roof, she’d have killed them both on the spot, assuming my father didn’t do it first. Lily Potter was a kind, compassionate woman, but if you hurt someone she loved, she would turn into a vengeful demon, believe me. The war hardened both my parents, and they weren’t afraid to curse those that they believed deserved justice.” “There’s a significant difference between fighting and killing Death Eaters, and hexing your own kith and kin! Lily would never have attacked one of her own family, no matter what the justification,” McGonagall protested. “Probably not, but I doubt she would have stopped my father from doing it,” Harry shrugged. “But this is all beside the point. My parents tried to ensure that I would never be placed with the Dursleys, and their wishes were ignored and, indeed, suppressed. Sirius Black was innocent of the charges made against him, but was still imprisoned in Azkaban without a trial. In both cases, the esteemed Albus Dumbledore either wilfully conspired in, or pointedly ignored, those acts of injustice.” “So this is why you’re here? To spy for the Ministry and get your supposed revenge on the Headmaster?” McGonagall accused him angrily. “I’ve told you repeatedly why I’m here,” Harry counted, “to get my N.E.W.T. qualifications. On that note, I should point out that our little talk has made me late for my next class. I very much doubt if I’m going to pass Herbology if I never attend classes.” “What? Oh, I didn’t realise how long we’d been talking. Here, I’ll give you a note to give to Professor Sprout explaining why you’re late,” McGonagall promised, hurrying back to her desk to find something to write on. She returned a moment later clutching the promised note. “Here, Mr Potter, this explains why you were delayed. Don’t think that this is the end of our discussions, though. Your presence at Hogwarts troubles me greatly, and there’s far too much about your recent history that you haven’t explained. We will talk again,” she informed him sternly. “I look forward to it,” Harry said and turned to leave. As he reached the doorway, he paused and looked back. “Yes, Mr Potter, was there something else you wanted?” McGonagall asked. “Oh, no,” Harry said smiling. “I was just taking one last sniff. I do so love the smell of pussy.” Fortunately, Harry was out the door before McGonagall was able to draw her wand on him. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP Harry hurriedly made his way to the school greenhouses where his next lesson had begun a good ten minutes before. Sure enough, as he entered greenhouse three, he found the class was well underway. The squat little Herbology teacher, Professor Sprout, scowled at him as he joined the group. “Ah, decided to join us at last have you, Mr Potter?” she glared. “Ten points from Slytherin for your tardiness!” The rest of the class, which Harry noted consisted predominantly of Hufflepuffs, openly sniggered at him, some of them looking distinctly pleased at his reprimand. Without comment, he stepped forward and handed Sprout his note from McGonagall. “What’s this?” Sprout snapped, taking the parchment in her grubby fingers. “A note from Professor McGonagall explaining why I’m late,” he explained in a neutral voice. “She needed to discuss some matters with me and I’m afraid the time got away from us.” Sprout viciously unfolded the parchment and scowled at it. She then thrust it into a pocket in her robes before resuming the lesson. Harry interrupted her before she could get too far. “Excuse me, Professor, but I think that you forgot to rescind the points deduction from my House,” he pointed out mildly. Sprout glowered at him. “I should keep that deduction in place,” she spat. “In future, if you want to discuss matters with Professor McGonagall you should do it in your own time and not disrupt everyone else.” “It wasn’t me that wanted to start the discussion,” Harry replied, a hint of coldness entering his voice. “If you have a problem, I suggest you take it up with the Deputy Headmistress.” The assembled Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors all glared at him with barely concealed contempt in their eyes. Clearly, Professor Sprout was a popular teacher and any pupil daring to cross her was held in disdain. “Very well, the points deduction is cancelled,” Sprout snapped angrily. “Now, if you have no objections, perhaps we can carry on the lesson, or do you have some other matter you wish to bring up that is more important than your fellow pupils’ education?” “Not at all. Please, do continue,” Harry replied graciously, although he couldn’t resist grinning rather smugly at the teacher. She huffed at him and continued with the class. The next hour passed quite quickly for Harry. On one hand, he actually found the class genuinely interesting. The subject matter had been an assortment of particularly deadly plants, all of which were highly poisonous. Neither Gellert nor Aunt Bathy had been particularly skilled in Herbology, and most of Harry’s education in the subject up to this point had been book-based. It made a nice change to learn in a more hands-on manner from an obviously skilled and knowledgeable teacher. On the other hand, his fellow students appeared to have all taken a strong dislike to him. The Hufflepuffs, who made up three-quarters of the class, had all apparently decided to take offence at him on behalf of their Head of House. The two Gryffindors present also seemed to be offended by his presence, and scowled at him whenever they had the chance. The remaining two pupils were both Ravenclaws and seemed happy enough to ignore him. As chances had it, when they were instructed to pair-up to complete practice work there was an odd number present, so Harry worked by himself which suited him just fine. It didn’t stop a couple of Hufflepuff boys from trying to sabotage his work when they thought he wasn’t looking, however. He decided he would deal with them at a later date. When the bell sounded signifying the end of the lesson, Harry hurriedly handed the tray containing his dissected plants to Professor Sprout, and made his way out of the greenhouse. His fellow classmates stared at him in an unfriendly manner as he left, and he could hear the whispered accusations and insults directed at him as he walked out the door. He had the feeling that no-one cared if he heard what they were saying or not. That was something he was going to have to stamp down on, and soon. He wasn’t going to stand for disrespect from a bunch of Hufflepuffs. His black mood from this morning only deepened as he strode towards the Great Hall for lunch. People seemed to be lining up to insult him at the moment, and he had a feeling that things would get worse before they got better. Even most of the teachers here at Hogwarts seemed deeply distrustful of him, and he suspected they were all under orders from Dumbledore to watch him closely. Morons. “Hey, Potter, wait-up a second!” called a voice. Harry turned to see Tracy Davis running towards him. With a barely-suppress scowl, he turned and kept walking in the direction he’d been going. “Potter, please, just wait a second,” she begged as she caught up to him. “Just hear what I have to say, please.” Harry stopped and regarded her coolly. “Okay, I’ll listen, but make it fast: I’m hungry. No doubt the friendly and welcoming atmosphere here at Hogwarts is increasing my appetite.” “What did you expect?” she snorted. “You’re a blood-traitor who’s been Sorted into Slytherin. Everybody hates you, probably for wildly conflicting reasons.” “Thank you for that thoughtful analysis, Miss Davis. Have you got anything else to add before I start hurting people?” he snarled. “Hey, I’m on your side,” she said hurriedly throwing up her hands defensively. “I only came to apologise to you about what happened this morning. Believe me, it wasn’t Weasley’s intention to offend you, or mine either, come to that.” “It’s not you that has to apologise,” Harry replied coldly. “Well, I’m not so sure. Ginevra and I do have a bit of a partnership-thing going when it comes to winding people up. I gave her the opening for those comments, really, so I should share the blame,” Davis admitted. “But you do have to understand, her cynicism isn’t without justification. She’s used to boys around here viewing witches as sex objects, just placed here for their pleasure. Over the years, Weasley’s had dozens of offers from various Slytherin boys offering their ‘protection’ and ‘influence’ if she’d accommodate them, if you get my meaning.” “So most of the blokes in Slytherin are pure-blood idiots who think they have an automatic right to have a mistress,” Harry shrugged. “It doesn’t mean that I should get judged by those standards.” “Why not?” Davis challenged. “You’ve flirted with both Ginevra and me, and clearly you know how the Head of a Noble House should act, so why shouldn’t we assume that you’d behave in the same manner as all those other inbred cretins? Trust isn’t easily given in this House, Potter. Just last year, Weasley had one boy spend a good three months buttering her up, saying all the right things and assuring her that he was different, only for him to get frustrated and try and force her into shagging him. Tell me, if you’ve had that happen to you, wouldn’t you assume that anyone acting half-decent to you was ultimately just after the same thing?” Harry paused. He hadn’t really thought about what it would be like for a girl from a light-sided family to be placed into Slytherin. He’d been here only a couple of days and was already getting a feel for how bad things were. “What about you?” he asked carefully. “Weasley’s a beautiful young witch and I can see boys resorting to anything to try and bed her, but you’re enough to make a corpse get a stiffy. Do you have similar problems?” “Why, thank you, I’ll take that as a compliment,” she laughed, “but you forget: I’m a half-blood. Most of the boys want a dirty, willing slut to fulfil their every perverted fantasy, but they don’t want their shrivelled little todgers infected by any witch who isn’t one hundred per cent pure-blood. Oh, that’s not to say that I wouldn’t end up raped and dumped somewhere if I wasn’t careful, but I’m not about to receive any of those gracious offers to permanently whore myself to some rich wizard that Ginevra gets.” “So this is why your role as the go-to witch for information is so important?” Harry pondered. “Without it you’d just become a target.” “I still am a target, every day of my life,” Davis replied bitterly. “I walk a tightrope constantly while I’m here at Hogwarts. Yes, I’m useful to the pure-bloods, up to a point, but no one is going to get too upset if something bad happens to me. That’s why I’m always so careful. I make sure that I always stay in public places whenever possible, and that I’m always in the company of other witches when I can. I keep my head down and don’t antagonise the pure-bloods, and I try and be a good little Slytherin so I at least get some protection from Professor Snape. If that all fails, I make damn sure I’ve got my wand handy at all times.” A thought occurred to Harry. “What happened to the low-life that tried to rape Weasley, then?” he asked. “I mean, do these scum just get away with doing these things?” “Normally that scum, as you correctly describe them, are careful enough not to leave witnesses that are capable or willing to kick up a fuss, and even if they do, they always back each other up and provide alibies. You’d be amazed how reluctant the D.M.L.E. is to insist that minors who belong to Noble or rich Families are subjected to Truth Potions or have them submit memories of incidents,” Davis said bitterly. “Malfoy and his cronies would have to rape a girl in the middle of the Great Hall during dinner for anyone to take the matter seriously. But they don’t always get away scot free. The one that attacked Ginevra, for instance, has a lovely curse scar for his troubles.” “Ah, the dark-skinned friend of Malfoy’s, was it? Zambini, was that his name?” Harry said, remembering the boy who had joined in the attack on him the previous day. “Zabini,” Davis corrected. “Have you never heard of his mother? She’s quite famous, you know.” “Can’t say that I have,” Harry admitted. “Oh, yes, she’s known as the Black Widow in certain circles. She’s been married seven times, and all seven of her husbands have died in mysterious circumstances, most leaving her a pot of gold in their wills. She’s either a complete jinx, or the cleverest criminal in Britain. I’m sure you can guess which one I tend to believe. Blaise is every inch his mother’s son. He’s a sneaky, manipulate, back-stabbing bastard who I wouldn’t trust to tell me the time. Ginevra did the world a service by cursing him, believe me,” Davis informed him. “Did she get in trouble for leaving him permanently disfigured?” Harry asked. “Nah, he wouldn’t even admit it was her that did it. It would be too much of a blow to his pride to admit a mere witch bested him. He just goes around boasting that he got the scar in a duel without mentioning any of the details. Slimly parasite,” she spat. By now they had reached the entrance to the Great Hall. Before Harry could enter, Davis grabbed his arm. “Look, Harry, please don’t be too hard on Weasley. She’s had a difficult time here at Hogwarts and she’s been a good friend to me. More than once I’ve been saved from something extremely unpleasant by a few of her curses. If she apologises, please accept it,” Davis begged. Harry thought about it for a second. In truth, he was appalled at what the two girls had suffered at this school, and was more than disposed to accept an apology, assuming one came his way. “Okay, Davis,” he agreed. “Assuming Weasley gives me a half-decent apology, I’ll accept it. But both of you are going to have to learn not to judge me by the standards of the filth that pass for pupils here.” “Thanks,” Davis said, looking relived. They continued into the hall, and Davis guided them to the end of the Slytherin table. Unsurprisingly, Ginevra Weasley was already seated there. Harry sat down opposite the red-haired girl and began to fill his plate with food. He pretended not to see Davis give the girl a subtle nod. “Potter?” Weasley began. “I wish to give you my unreserved apologies for the inappropriate comment I made this morning. It was not my intention to cause you distress, or insult the Ancient House of Potter.” Harry looked up at her in surprise. He had not expected the formal wording of the apology, but quickly realised that a pure-blood such as her would know how to address a Head of an Ancient House. He nodded once. “Weasley, I accept your apology and trust that I will not see a repetition of your rash words again in the future,” he replied in a measured voice. “Thank you, I will choose my words with more care, I promise,” Weasley agreed, before returning her attention to her plate. “So, how long did it take for Davis to convince you to apologise?” Harry asked with a smirk. “Most of the morning,” Weasley admitted, not looking at him. “I wasn’t convinced it was worth my effort, but Tracy seems to think that you’re actually a half-decent bloke, for some reason.” “Wow, your kind words are nearly overwhelming me,” Harry noted sarcastically, “although from what I’ve seen in the short time I’ve been here, I can understand you not thinking highly of any male Slytherin.” “Oh, trust me, most of the females are just as bad, too,” Weasley replied, this time looking at him directly with blazing brown eyes. “Most girls here are either whores or psychopaths, or a pleasant combination of the two. If you try and walk your own path, like me and Tracy here, then you’re certain to be hated and singled out for abuse.” Harry chewed his food thoughtfully. “You seem to have done a pretty good job looking after yourself, though,” he pointed out. “That scar-faced friend of Malfoy’s is a good example of that.” Ginevra snorted. “Zabini is an idiot. He thought he could just pay me a few compliments and flutter his eyelashes at me and I’d be begging him to screw me. I mean, did he really think I’d trust him with the reputation he and his murdering bitch of a mother have? I knew what he was up to immediately.” “Which was?” Harry asked with genuine interest. “He’s practicing for his future career,” Ginevra shrugged. “His mother has made a packet by finding wealthy, single wizards and marrying them. I’ve never met her, but I gather most men instantly cream their undies as the mere sight of her, and she uses that to lure wealthy men to her. I gather Blaise is preparing to carry on the family business. He’s planning on using his pretty-boy looks to seduce any wealthy widow or heiress that takes his fancy, and then rob them blind. I shouldn’t wonder if most of the poor bitches don’t end up unexplainably dead, too.” “Of course, this means that Zabini has to hone his seduction skills,” Davis continued. “He might be bloody gorgeous, but he’s still a teenage boy and, just like anything, he needs to practice charming witches. Ginevra here, apart from being stunningly attractive, has a reputation of being unapproachable. Our boy figured that if he could get in her knickers, he could pull anyone. Oh, and you’d better watch out, Potter, I hear he’s not too bothered if it’s a witch or a wizard he seduces, just as long as they’re rich.” “I think after the kicking I gave him, he won’t want anything to do with me,” Harry smirked. “I take it he doesn’t handle rejection well, then?” Weasley shrugged. “I guess not. I mean, I was actually thinking of giving him one, after all, he’s a good-looking boy, but he got impatient. Besides, I knew he was just intending to use me for practice, and I didn’t want him deciding that he would continue that by trying to bump me off, too.” “How does his mother do it?” Harry asked. “I mean, the Aurors must be wise to her by now. She can’t just go around poisoning or cursing wizards as she pleases, can she? That would be the first thing they checked for.” “No one knows,” Weasley admitted, “and, frankly, if the Zabinis are that good at killing people without getting caught, then I don’t want to make myself a target.” “Bit late for that, isn’t it?” Harry pointed out. “If I wanted I could have done a lot worse to Blaise then just give him that scar,” Weasley responded fiercely. “At the time, he was on his knees and I had his wand in my hand, with no witnesses around. Unfortunately, if I had finished him off I would have been murder suspect number one, the way he’d been following me around for weeks beforehand. Unfortunately, my family is poor as dirt and wouldn’t have been able to pay the bribes required to ensure that I didn’t end up with a mouthful of Veritaserum, not that those bastards would spend a Knut to save me, anyway.” “You can’t pick your family,” Harry agreed sympathetically. “That’s the bloody truth, and I’ve had the added joy of having most of my assorted brothers attending Hogwarts at the same time as me. Still, at least next year I’ll be free of them. Ronald is the last Weasley to uphold the honour of the family by being a Gryffindor, and he graduates at the end of the year. I might actually be able to go five minutes without being constantly reminded what a disgrace I am to the family, and what an evil, little bitch I am,” Ginevra spat angrily. “Oh, but you are an evil, little bitch, darling,” Tracy teased. “I know, but I don’t have to be reminded all the time, do I?” Weasley responded with a half-grin. “Did you notice that most of Malfoy’s gang are out of the hospital wing?” Tracy said, changing the subject. “Yes, I could feel them sending Killing Curses at me with their eyes,” Harry confirmed. “I note the blond bum-boy himself is missing, though.” “Blond bum-boy? I must remember that one,” Tracy sniggered. “No, darling Draco will play-up his injuries for all they’re worth. He once had to spend a week in bed after getting a parchment-cut.” “Yeah, he’s a fine example of pure-blood masculinity,” Weasley smirked. “Quite why any witch would look twice at him, I don’t know. Mind you, I always said Parkinson was a bit soft in the head.” “Oh, I know exactly what Parkinson sees in him,” Tracy disagreed. “It’s all that lovely gold he has clogging up his vault at Gringotts. She’s been after a marriage contract from day one. I really must get around to telling her that she’s too late, one day.” “Really? What poor cow has to marry that git?” Ginevra asked in surprise. “Astoria Greengrass,” Tracy supplied. “It was going to be Daphne, but she rather cleverly faked a medical examination so it suggested she wasn’t very fertile, so her poor younger sister coped it, instead. Still, Astoria’s such a stuck-up idiot that I hear she’s actually quite pleased about the whole thing. No doubt that will change when she actually gets to spend some time around Draco. Stupid cow.” “Yeah, she’s brain-dead, that one. She’ll probably quite happy to pump out a few brats to continue the Malfoy name while swaggering around in that poncey manor of theirs. Honestly, did you see those pictures of the place published in ‘Witch Weekly’ a few years back? It looked like an explosion in a gold paint factory! Ick! Still, all that ostentatiousness and tackiness probably suit them to a tee,” Ginevra smirked. “Yeah, but still, the Malfoys are a rich and powerful family, even with Lucius Malfoy locked away,” Tracy noted. “You need to be careful, Harry. They underestimated you the first time, they won’t do that again. “The next attack will come from an unexpected direction,” Ginevra said sagely. “I doubt they’ll openly fight you again, so they’ll probably try and curse you in the back, or something. Just do me a favour and don’t stand too close to me at any time, alright?” “There will come a time soon when you two ladies will have to pick a side, you know,” Harry told them seriously. “You may think that you can just keep your noses clean and stay out of trouble, but that won’t work for much longer. There’s a war coming and neutrality isn’t an option.” “Why not?” Tracy challenged, sounding a little alarmed. “It’s worked fine up to this point. Why should I be forced to pick a side suddenly? I don’t give a shit about all this blood purity crap, so I’m certainly not going to fight about it, for either side.” “I’ll tell you why,” Harry responded intensely. “Because the Dark Lord considers anyone not actively for him to be against him, that’s why. I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your notice that Voldemort has been more active in recent months. I can tell you that he’s gathered a lot of support and he’s nearly strong enough to start an outright war against the Ministry and Dumbledore. You may think you can sit on the side-lines and watch the two sides slug it out, but the Dark Lord remembers those that defied him far more than he remembers those that helped him, and his definition of defiance includes anyone who didn’t actively fight alongside him.” The two girls shared an apprehensive look. “Besides, imagine if Voldemort does win, think what it would mean for you two. A half-blood who attempted to remain neutral and a witch from a light-sided family who refused to let herself be bound to one of the Dark Lord’s supporters? Do you really think he’d turn the other cheek and let you two be?” Harry asked pointedly. “What’s the other option?” Ginevra asked defiantly. “Hope the Ministry will save us? Fat chance! My brother Percy joined that mob and I’ve seen just how incompetent they are. Support Dumbledore, perhaps? Trust me, I know first-hand that he hasn’t got the balls to fight a war against the Dark Lord. If those are our only options, then keeping my head down and legging it overseas if the Ministry falls seems a much more attractive idea.” “You could try escaping overseas, assuming that any country will take you in and that you can leave in the first place,” Harry agreed, “but most other countries are in a similar state to us. There’s lots of trouble in Poland and Russia, for instance, and blood purity is becoming a big issue over there. America’s virtually closed its borders to immigrants because of all the problems in Europe, you don’t stand a chance of getting in there. Not unless you have a contact in the country already, of course.” “So, what’s the answer? Support the Ministry, like you’ve done?” Tracy scoffed. “Scrimgeour will last five minutes once the Dark Lord starts openly declaring himself.” “I agree, but don’t believe everything you read in the papers, Davis,” Harry responded. “Scrimgeour and I might have come to an accommodation, but I certainly don’t support the man or his corrupt government. As for Dumbledore, I wouldn’t trust that old bastard as far as I could throw him. An undisputed victory for him would nearly be as bad as Voldemort winning.” “Okay, so I’ll ask again: what’s the answer?” Tracy demanded. “There’s a third option. Both the dark and light factions are too extreme in their own ways, and too rigid in their beliefs. We need a new path to follow, one that ignores all this blood purity bullshit and does what’s best for the Magical Community. One that treads a path smack in-between the two extremes, and recognises practicality and common sense, not century-old traditions and ludicrous racism as its cornerstones,” he explained passionately. “Oh, and who is leading this third option, then? You?” Weasley asked sarcastically. “Got it in one,” Harry declared seriously. Weasley began to snort with laughter, but stopped almost immediately. Harry could almost see the wheels turning within her head. “Not to be rude or anything,” Tracy began, “but are you serious? I mean, you’re just one bloke with no support. How are you going to start a revolution by yourself?” “I won’t be by myself,” Harry countered. “I do have a support system in place, but I just haven’t really begun recruiting yet.” “So, we have the honour of being your first recruits, do we? Come off it, Potter, you don’t stand a chance! The Dark Lord has an entire army behind him, and the Ministry aren’t exactly going to stand aside and let you gain power, either. That’s ignoring Dumbledore, too. I get the impression he’s not exactly thrilled with you ending up as a Slytherin. He won’t sit about and let you gain influence without being sure you can be trusted, and judging by the way you handled Malfoy, I doubt he would approve of your methods,” Tracy pointed out. “You’re assuming that I’m going to tackle this head-on like some Gryffindor would,” Harry countered. “That’s not the way I work. Yes, the Dark Lord has an army and I don’t; that’s why I have no intention of fighting him fairly. I intend to eliminate his support slowly and methodically, before dealing with him when he’s alone. If that requires me to be an assassin, then so be it. The Ministry is the same. I intend to infiltrate it slowly, gathering support quietly and operating from the shadows. Dumbledore, for all his power and influence, is a rather simple fellow. He thinks about primary causes and motivations, and seldom considers that people may have ulterior reasons for their actions. It was why Voldemort was able to beat him so easily in the first war.” Harry ignored the fact that both girls had cringed when he used the name Voldemort, and looked at them challengingly. “What would you want us to do?” Weasley asked quietly. “At the moment, very little,” Harry confirmed. “As I stated, I intend to work from the shadows and I would expect my allies to do the same. Tracy, you would need to remain visibly neutral if you are going to continue to pick up information, otherwise no one would trust you again. I would, however, want you to be selective in what information you give to the other side while being open and honest with me. Ginevra, you can’t afford to be seen openly as my friend, but I do need your wand on my side. I have various objectives that I need to accomplish while here at Hogwarts, and you’d be invaluable help.” “Why us?” Weasley asked suddenly. “Why have you asked us two to help you?” “Isn’t it obvious?” Harry asked earnestly. “We’re the same, us three. Tracy, you’re a half-blood like me, trying to make your way in a world ruled by pure-bloods who look down on us and think we’re inferior. Ginevra, you’re from a light-sided family but was Sorted into Slytherin, as a result no one trusts you anymore. You’ve been slandered and abused for what you’re perceived to be, rather than what you actually are. We, ladies, are all in the same shitty situation and, I suspect, we all want that to change.” Silence fell as the two girls considered his offer. Then, abruptly, Weasley stood and grabbed her bag. “I’ll think about it,” she announced quietly, before walking off briskly without as much as a backward glance. Harry almost smiled at her actions, which seemed rather typical of the girl. “Sorry, Potter, I’m not convinced,” Tracy said, shaking her head. “I’ve fought a hard struggle to get where I am, and if there’s the slightest hint that I’ve been helping you, my life won’t be worth jack-shit. I promise I won’t mention this conversation to anyone, and I’ll give you an Unbreakable Vow on that if you want, but please don’t expect me to become your supporter, because it won’t happen.” “Fair enough,” Harry said, hiding his disappointment. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what will happen if you do talk to anyone about this.” “Yeah, I was there when you demolished Draco and his friends, remember? Look, I really like you, Harry, and I think your goals are just, but I just can’t believe that you have the power to change anything. I know that you defeated You-Know-Who when you were a toddler, but I’m sure he’s not going to make the same mistake, whatever that was, again. As much as I hate to say it, I think you’re doomed,” she said sadly, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “I’m sorry.” Then she stood and was gone in the blink of an eye. Harry sighed. He suspected that he’d made his move to recruit the girls far too soon, and blown his chance. Davis, in particular, had seemed sympathetic to his cause and would have proved to have been an incredibly useful ally here in the castle. Weasley was more of an unknown factor, and he was intrigued that she hadn’t actually turned him down yet, although she would be more of an asset for the future when he had to take the fight to the Death Eaters. Still, what was done was done, and he was new to this power struggle. He would just have to learn from this failure and try to move on. As he picked up his fork and began to pick at his food, he speculated that there had been another reason why he’d approached the two girls so soon after meeting them. Loneliness had been eating at him for months now, and he’d been too desperate for some friendly company. Here, sitting at the now empty end of the Slytherin table, that loneliness suddenly felt more intense than ever. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP The rest of the day dragged for Harry. In the afternoon, he’d taken lessons in Ancient Runes and Charms, both of which had been enjoyable, even if he did really learn nothing new. Tracy had been in both classes, but had religiously kept her distance from him, preferring to partner the blond Greengrass girl. Although he’d known the Davis girl for little over a day, he felt her rejection keenly. Neither she nor Weasley were at dinner, and Harry sat by himself while he ate. To add to his dismal mood, Malfoy made an appearance at the dinner table, and Harry could hear his offensive remarks about him from where he was sitting. Eventually, his appetite diminished, he stood and left the Great Hall. He walked out of the school and headed towards the Forbidden Forrest, barely aware that he was doing so. It was a fairly warm September evening, and to Harry’s keen ears and eyes the forest appeared bustling with life. A smile crept onto his lips and he entered the shade of the trees and took a deep breath. A dozen different scents filled his nostrils as he savoured the wildness of the woods, with a primitive yearning building inside him. Succumbing to his unconscious desires, Harry blurred and, a second later, in the spot where he had been standing there was a magnificent wolf, it’s grey fur streaked with black and it’s golden eyes, lightly tinted with green, were looking around watchfully. Then, in a flash, he sprinted from the spot he’d been standing and plunged deeper into the forest, intent on following the scent of his intended prey. The wolf never noticed a pair of brown eyes watching him silently from some distance away. |
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