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SIYE Time:10:37 on 28th March 2024
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Hail Odysseus
By Brennus

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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: 119973; Chapter Total: 7310
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:

I wasn’t going to post this yet, but I’ve had such a rotten couple of weeks that I wanted something to cheer myself up. Strange how writing this stuff has become so important to me.

Thanks, as always, to Arnel for picking out my numerous errors. I swear, I wasn’t making this many cock-ups when writing ‘Thorny Rose’. If anyone finds my brain, can they return it to me, please?




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Chapter 5 — Uneasy Alliances



“Now, sit up straight, Harry. You know I can’t abide it when you slouch like that,” Bathilda lightly scolded him. Harry immediately straightened his back and sat up in his chair.

“That’s better. Now, Gellert has suggested that we begin your Animagus training and I understand that you’re quite keen to try, too,” she said, smiling warmly at him.

“Yes, please, Aunty Bathy,” he said earnestly. Ever since Gellert had told him that his father had been an Animagus, Harry had been desperate to become one himself.

“Well, learning to become an Animagus is a long and difficult process, and twelve years old really is far too young to begin, in my opinion. Still, you’ve already proved what a talented young wizard you are many times, Harry, and it never hurts to learn the basics early,” she admitted, before pausing to take a sip of her tea.

Harry smiled. When he’d first met Gellert’s Great Aunt Bathilda, he really hadn’t known what to expect. He’d had very little experience with old people, other than an elderly couple who had lived at the end of Privet Drive who had always scowled at him when he walked past, and Mrs Figg, of course.

The revelation that she was a Squib sent to watch over him had been a bitter shock to Harry. If she was supposed to watch over him, why had she done nothing about the constant abuse he had received? Hadn’t she seen his cousin and his gang beat him up constantly, or noticed the ill-fitting clothes he was forced to wear, or that fact he was skin and bones? Gellert had asserted that Mrs Figg’s sole purpose had been to alert Albus Dumbledore of any magical attack against Privet Drive, not to oversee his welfare, and that had sounded believable. Still, he’d been at Mrs Figg’s house quite a few times and the old woman had never been particularly warm to him. He’d had to spend many boring hours looking through her photo albums that contained nothing but pictures of her cats, or occasionally he’d been treated to a piece of cake that tasted like sawdust. Surely she could have treated him a little better in private, couldn’t she?

Aunt Bathy, as Harry now called her, was completely different. The woman had been a scholar all her life, and had written a number of important magical texts, some of which still featured as part of the school curriculum to this day. She was also an immensely kind woman, who had known Harry’s parents and often told him stories about them. Bathilda wasn’t without her own eccentricities, but they only made her more endearing to Harry. For instance, he suspected the only reason that she gave her lessons to him in the kitchen was so she would have a ready supply of tea on hand to fortify her. She was rarely to be seen her without a steaming cup of Twinings finest to hand.

“Now, the Animagus transformation is the most Shamanic of all magic that we use on a regular basis,” Bathilda began, shaking Harry from his thoughts. “A witch or wizard may only take a single animal form, as that form is a representation of their own character and personality. In many ways, this is similar to the selection of a spirit guide, used in Shamanic meditation, and it’s through such meditation that your animal will be revealed to you.”

“You don’t get to choose?” Harry asked in disappointment. “What if you don’t like the animal you end up with?”

“As the animal is a reflection of the sort of person you are, I’m afraid you’re stuck with it,” she chortled. “It’s the same as you being stuck with that wayward hair of yours, my boy.”

Harry attempted to flatten his spikey hair in irritation, which only amused the old woman more. She reached over and ran her fingers through his black mop of hair, making it even messier than usual.

“One day, when you’re older, I suspect you’ll find that a lot of young ladies rather like your hair, Harry, and that it’s a blessing, not a curse,” she told him fondly and chuckling when he pulled a face when she mentioned ‘young ladies’. “But getting back to the point, I think it’s highly unlikely that anyone would be disappointed with the animal they discover. The only exception to that rule would be if the person intensely disliked themselves, and therefore it’s unlikely they would have the mental discipline to maintain a form that they hate, anyway.”

“So, my dad’s personality was like a stag, was it?” he asked in fascination.

“Yes, a stag fitted James to a tee,” she confirmed. “The thing about the transformation is, just like the Shamanic spirit guides, it often represents an element within ourselves that we require to make us grow and develop as a person. Although I never knew him when he was younger, your mother told me that James was quite a childish and arrogant young man in his early years at Hogwarts. Once he had discovered his stag form, however, he began to change. Subconsciously, he probably realised that he had to grow up and become a man, and his stag represented that. He became far more noble and protective than he had been before, for instance. That nobility, in the truest sense of the word, had always been within him, but the transformation unlocked it and enabled him to embrace his adult personality.”

“Wow,” Harry gasped. “So, becoming an Animagus will change me as a person?”

“Oh, indeed,” she smiled. “Invariable it helps a person become what they were truly meant to be. That’s not always a good thing, however. If someone is by their very nature weak or untrustworthy, that will reflect in their form, although remember, no animal is actually evil as we could understand the term. Morgan le Fay is a good example of that; she had a carrion bird as her Animagus form. A creature that survives by feasting on the dead. It doesn’t make the birds evil, they have to eat to survive, after all, but it does show that the woman had some unpleasant personality traits if she took that form.”

“I hope I don’t become anything like that,” Harry said fervently.

“I very much doubt you will,” she chuckled. “The Animagus form will also have other, more physical, benefits, too. Someone who had a cat as their form could, for instance, become more agile and graceful, while someone who had a dog form might gain an improved sense of smell and hearing, although it does vary from person to person. Likewise, when transformed, the Animagus animal might also bear character traits from that person’s human form. Your animal, for instance, might have green eyes or black markings like your hair.”

“I hope I get an animal with good eyesight,” Harry muttered. “I hate these glasses.”

“We’ll see,” Bathilda said kindly. “Now, the first thing we have to do is enter a meditative state. Close your eyes, and try to relax, Harry.”

Harry tried to do as she instructed, desperately forcing down his excitement at the thought of meeting his animal form…


HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Next morning, Harry made his way up from the Slytherin common room towards the Great Hall in search of breakfast. His trip to the forest the previous night had greatly improved his mood, and he was intent on making the most of the new day.

He’d just reached the Entrance Hall when the sound of raised voices attracted his attention. He looked over to see Ginevra Weasley slouched against the railing of the central staircase, while a tall, red-haired boy shouted at her. Initially, Harry was rather alarmed at the aggression that this angry young man was showing, but Ginevra appeared completely unconcerned. Indeed, she just examined her fingernails with a bored expression on her face. Harry approached them.

“…don’t care, do you?” the boy raged. “Mum’s worried sick about you, but you only care about yourself, don’t you? Typical selfish, bloody Slytherin!”

“Oh, Mum’s so worried about me, is she?” Ginevra spat, looking up suddenly in anger. “Funny, all I thought she cared about was the family’s reputation, not about me. In fact, I seem to remember her yelling something about me being no daughter of hers this summer.”

“You can hardly blame her, can you?” the boy yelled back. “You’ve single-handedly blacked the Weasley name. Why don’t you just run off and join your Death Eater pals and leave us in peace?”

“Funny, I thought it was you that came up to me and started moaning. I was quite happy to ignore you, Ronald Weasley, so why don’t you piss off and join up with your dorky Gryffindor pals and leave me alone?”

“I bloody will,” he growled, his face a bright shade of red. “I don’t know why I bother trying to talk to you! Ever since you became a Slytherin you’ve turned into a total bitch. You’re heading for a sticky end, Ginny, no doubt about it. Come on, Hermione.”

With that, the boy stormed away into the Great Hall. A bushy-haired witch was nearly running by his side to keep up with his long strides. A few other Gryffindors glared at Ginevra before turning and following the angry youth. Harry walked up to Weasley, who looked equally furious.

“That was one of your brothers, I take it,” Harry asked sympathetically.

“Yes, Ronald, to be exact. The stupid, arrogant, pig-headed moron! Gah! If he dislikes me so much, why does he feel the need to constantly seek me out just so he can tell me how disappointed he is in me? Why doesn’t he just leave me alone?” she demanded.

“No idea. Does he think that if he yells enough that silver and green on your uniform will turn into red and gold?” Harry asked with a smirk.

“It could be,” she said, grinning back. “Ron seems to believe that most things in life can be accomplished by yelling. It says a lot about his intelligence levels.”

“Did your mother really say that you were no daughter of hers?” Harry asked, the disgust plain on his face. “That’s awful.”

“Yes, but to be fair it was in the middle of a rather heated argument and I don’t think she knew what she was saying,” Ginevra admitted sadly. “These days, I can’t seem to be in the same room as my mum for more than five minutes before an argument breaks out. It’s been like that ever since I was made a Slytherin. It’s like that one act just changed my family’s opinion of me overnight. It’s stupid really. It’s not like I asked to be put in Slytherin; the Sorting Hat just said it was the best place for me, but everyone seems to think it was some master plan of mine.”

“Yeah, family can be like that, can’t they,” Harry agreed. “Before I lived with my guardian, I lived with my maternal aunt and uncle. They were Muggles who despised magic and grew angry if the word was even mentioned. I can’t tell you how relieved I was to be taken out of that environment.”

“What? How could that be?” Ginevra protested. “You were the Boy Who Lived; you were famous. How could the authorities have stuck you with a pair of idiotic Muggles?”

“Oh, my self-appointed magical guardian at the time took it on himself to stick me there. He thought it would be the safest place for me, away from the attention and distractions of the Magical world. Of course, he never bothered to check with my aunt or uncle if they actually wanted me, or lifted a finger to make sure I was alright once I was there. As a result, I was treated like a house-elf for nine years, and regularly beaten by my whale of a cousin, for good measure,” Harry told her bitterly.

“Who, exactly, was this magical guardian of yours who dumped you there?” Ginevra asked suspiciously.

“Who do you think? Albus Dumbledore, of course. He sealed my parents will and dropped me on my aunt’s doorstep before the authorities had a chance to blink. Naturally, he claimed he was just acting to protect me, but in truth he was just ensuring I would be right where he could lay his hands on me if he needed me again,” Harry growled. “He didn’t reckon that someone would see through his game and rescue me.”

“Bloody hell, and I thought I had problems at home,” Ginevra snorted. “Who was it that rescued you?”

“I can’t tell. I’ve taken an Unbreakable Vow not to reveal his name, for obvious reasons,” Harry explained. “But let me tell you, the day he took me away was the single greatest day of my life. From that point onwards, I was actually treated decently. I had a proper bed and was actually fed, which never happened before. I received my own clothes, not worn hand-me-downs that were five times too large for me, and I wasn’t treated like a slave. More importantly, I started to receive a proper magical education. My new guardian was immensely talented, and he had relative that helped me a great deal, too. Between them, I expect I received the most comprehensive training in magic that any teenage boy has ever had. Now I intend to use that training to obtain vengeance on those that killed my parents and made me a slave.”

“Do you hate Muggles, then?” she asked curiously.

“Nah, not all of them, anyway, just the ones named ‘Dursley’. Actually, I don’t even hate them, anymore. They died in a house fire not long after I left their care, and I just don’t have it in me to hate them anymore. They were bigoted, cruel and stupid, but they’re gone now, so why worry?” Harry shrugged. “As for the other Muggles, I don’t think you can just lump them all in one pot and label them. Just like us, some of them are good and some of them are bad. The fact remains, however, that by law we have to hide our existence from them, and I have no problem with that.”

“So, live and let live, eh? That’s your attitude to them?” Ginevra pressed.

“Yeah, I think that sums it up,” Harry agreed. “I’m never going to turn into another Muggle-hating Dark Lord, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Perhaps a little,” she agreed. “That sort of experience can change people, and stop them thinking rationally. I would hate to think that you’re some sort of deranged psychopath, intent on destroying anyone that gets in your way.”

“That never works,” Harry said automatically. “Violence begets violence, and irrational, racist violence always blows back on the people who practice it. As I said yesterday, I would rather work from the shadows, and try to be a bit more subtle. Of course, that only works up to a point. I don’t doubt that all the Death Eaters will have to be killed or imprisoned for life, as it’s simply impossible to re-educate them. That kind of fanaticism can never be erased totally.”

“I think you’re right,” she sighed. “Ever since I got to this bloody school, I’ve had to fight. I’d have been mincemeat if my oldest brother Bill hadn’t taken pity on me after my first year and shown me some cool curses to use. Of course, lately he doesn’t have the time of day for me, but that’s only because some part-Veela he met at work has started shagging him and he’s besotted. The French bitch hates me, so she’s been turning him against me. Do you know any good anti-Veela curses, Potter?”

“Ha! Most of the ones I know are meant to attract Veelas, not destroy them. Still, I imagine that an Entrail-Expelling Curse will work just as well on them as it would a normal human,” Harry replied with a grin. “So, your brother taught you to fight, did he? What is he, an Auror or something?”

“Curse-breaker for Gringotts,” she clarified. “You can imagine all the interesting and imaginative spells he knows.”

“I can,” Harry agreed, impressed. “Your first year here was rough, then? Before you learnt how to properly defend yourself?”

“It was horrendous,” Ginevra snarled. “Malfoy and his gang were already established, and you can just imagine the warm welcome they gave me, especially as Ron and Draco hate each other’s guts. I had three other brothers here at the time apart from Ron, and they all disowned me as soon as I was Sorted into Slytherin. Then, if things couldn’t get any worse, some bastard slips me an enchanted diary which tries to take possession of me! Bloody marvellous!”

“An enchanted diary?” Harry exclaimed. “That sounds a bit weird. What did this diary look like?”

“Oh, it was weird, believe me. The pages were completely blank, but when you wrote in it, the damn thing replied. It said it had been the property of some boy called Tom Riddle, who had left his memories in it, a bit like a magical portrait painting, I guess. It was a shame really, I thought Tom was a really nice bloke. At least I did until they told me that the pissing diary had taken control of me for a while. Apparently, I killed a load of Hagrid’s chickens under its influence, so he hates me now, too,” Ginny growled.

“What happened to this diary?” Harry asked carefully.

“Snape saw me writing in it one day and confiscated it immediately. He then gave me a long lecture on what an idiot I was to trust a strange magical object and how I should try using my brain. Bastard,” Ginny replied.

“Do you know what Snape did with the diary?” Harry pressed urgently.

“I’ve no idea,” Ginevra said with a frown. “Do you know something about this, Potter, because no one could ever figure out how the damn thing ended up in my possession, anyway?”

“Well, I have heard of something similar,” he admitted. “The diary I heard about was last seen in the possession of Lucius Malfoy, though, and I severally doubt he would try and plant it on an eleven-year-old girl. It was quite valuable, you see.”

“Malfoy? Bloody hell, it could have been him, you know! He got into a scrap with my dad in Diagon Alley just before I started school. We’d been in the book shop and he’d been taking the piss out of us because I had second-hand books we’d been buying. He could have slipped it to me then! As for a motive, I suspect that was due to my dad, too. He works for the Ministry and was trying to introduce a new Muggle Protection Act at the time. Lucius desperately wanted that bill to be defeated, and turning me into some evil, possessed killer would have been the perfect way of discrediting dad. That bastard! I’m going to chop Draco into little pieces in revenge!” she snarled.

“Steady, Ginevra, this is all just speculation, at present. We have no proof it was him,” Harry said, but privately he thought differently. As soon as Ginevra had mentioned Tom Riddle, he had known who had been involved. It was best that the Weasley girl didn’t know that for certain, however.

“It must have been him, it all fits!” she protested.

“Probably, but there’s no saying Draco knew about it, is there? Besides, Lucius is currently keeping the Dementors company at Azkaban, and that’s a pretty fitting punishment, don’t you think?” he reasoned.

“Possibly, but gutting his only son would be icing on the cake,” she muttered.

“I like how you think,” Harry told her with a grin. “Look, we’d better get to breakfast or we won’t get to eat before the first class.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Look, no offence or anything, but I’m going to sit with Tracy. I’m still thinking about what you said yesterday, but I need a bit more time. Besides, it probably doesn’t pay to be seen with you too much, anyway,” she noted.

“True, although we have been standing out here for ten minutes chatting in plain sight, so that probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do,” Harry pointed out. “Still, you can always say I was trying to chat you up and you were just laughing at me.”

“Not that far from the truth, then,” she smirked. “I’ll talk to you later, Potter.”

Harry stood and watched her enter the Great Hall, allowing himself the indulgence of admiring her shapely backside wiggle slightly as she walked. One thing was for sure, even if she decided not to help him, there had been a definite thawing of their relationship. Nothing like comparing how shite your respective families were to help you bond, he mused.

With a small smile, he entered the hall in search of food. He might have had to sit alone again, but he did so with a lighter heart this morning.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The next few days proved extremely frustrating for Harry. Although it wasn’t his primary reason for being at Hogwarts, he’d hoped to be able to gather allies while he was here, but that was proving next to impossible. Apart from Weasley and Davis, virtually everyone in Slytherin House was openly hostile to him. While no one had yet had the courage to openly confront him, Harry suspected that Draco Malfoy had the whole House tightly under his control. That was something he probably couldn’t change in the short term, not without escalating matters to a level he deemed unadvisable at present.

The Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs were nearly as bad. The Gryffindors had seemed to have taken the fact that he wasn’t Sorted into their House as a personal insult, and had unanimously decided that he must be a Dark wizard. The Hufflepuffs had latched onto this idea, too, and appeared to loath him, although what he had done to offend them so much, Harry couldn’t recall. Only the Ravenclaws appeared indifferent to him. Sadly, they seemed to take this indifference seriously and had pointedly ignored him when he’d tried to initiate a conversation with a group of them in the library the day before.

So much for that approach.

Harry was also intrigued by the conversation he’d had with Ginevra, following her altercation with her brother. The diary she described sounded exactly like Tom Riddle’s, and the fact that there could be two Horcruxes at Hogwarts rather than just the one he had suspected, excited him. Unfortunately, he had no idea how he could find out what had befallen the diary. It was just one more thing that he’d have to work on while he was here.

He was just walking along a third floor corridor, pondering his next move, when the sound of raised voices caught his attention. Intrigued, he followed the voices which led him down a side corridor away from the main passageway.

As he turned the corner, he was shocked to see the four Hufflepuff girls he had befriended on the Hogwarts Express being confronted by a group of fifth and sixth year Slytherin boys. The boys had their backs to him and had failed to notice his approach.

Looking over the Slytherin boys’ shoulders, Harry saw little Hannah on her knees, crying, while Imogen attempted to comfort her. Both Cerys and Michelle had their wands drawn and were defiantly pointing them at the sniggering Slytherins. Harry could smell the girls’ fear from where he was standing.

“Why don’t you all just piss off and leave us alone!” Michelle was yelling. “I’ll tell Professor Sprout about this, I will.”

“Yeah, and I’ll tell Professor Snape, and he’ll believe us ‘cos were pure-bloods, while you lot are a bunch of Mudblood skanks,” a boy Harry thought was called Harper snarled.

“Anyway, you’re assuming we’ll leave you in any condition to talk to anyone,” another boy sneered. “We don’t like squealers at Hogwarts, and we’re going to show you what happens to those that do go running to teacher.”

Having heard enough, Harry pulled out his wand and silently cast Incarcerous Charms on the three boys standing at the back of the group. They all tumbled to the ground, bound and gagged. Unfortunately, their movement caught the eye of one of the other boys, who spun around with his wand in his hand. He paled noticeably when he saw who was standing there.

“Hello, lads,” Harry announced cheerfully. “What are you all up to?”

The remaining two boys also turned around rapidly and grimaced at the sight of him.

“This is nothing to do with you, Potter,” Harper declared nervously.

“Oh, but it is. Don’t you remember what I said back in the common room on the first day of term? You know, just after I kicked in the heads of Malfoy and his gang? No? Let me remind you; I told you that I had zero tolerance for blood purists and Muggle haters. Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough for you. I should have mentioned that includes those that are abusive to Muggle-borns and half-bloods, too, because you lot are obviously too stupid to have taken the hint,” Harry snapped.

“You can’t touch us!” one boy yelled desperately. “Snape will have your guts for garters.”

“Yes, just like he did after I hospitalised Malfoy. Oh, wait! No, he didn’t, did he? Maybe you stupid little shits aren’t as safe as you think you are,” Harry told them with an evil grin forming on his face. “Besides, we don’t like squealers here at Hogwarts, remember?”

The three boys all shared worried glances. Harry decided he needed to put his point across in a more convincing way. He took a couple of steps forward, and kicked one of the bound boys hard in the stomach. The gag around his mouth muffled his cry of pain, and the ropes wrapped tightly around him inhibited his movement, but the boy managed to curl into a ball and lay there whimpering.

“Leave him alone!” Harper shouted in horror.

“Are you going to make me?” Harry challenged and, before any of the boys could react, soundlessly cast three Disarming Spells at them. Their wands were ripped from their grasps, and Harry effortlessly caught them.

“Give those back!” Harper screamed and took a step forward, but halted immediately when Harry pointed his wand at him.

“Pure-blood, half-blood or Muggle-born, everyone’s the same without a wand, eh?” he pointed out. “So tell me, without your little pieces of wood, what makes you so superior to us mere half-bloods?”

“Of course we’re superior,” one of the boys yelled angrily. “We pure-bloods are better in every way! Were magically stronger, more intelligent and of better breeding!”

“Magically stronger? That’s funny, because I’ve yet to meet a pure-blood that is stronger than me,” Harry pointed out in a deceptively calm voice. “More intelligent? Again, I’ve yet to see anyone get higher marks in class than me, not to mention that most of the Ravenclaws all seem more intelligent than you lot, and not all of them are pure-bloods, by any means. Hell, that annoying Muggle-born in Gryffindor makes you all look like idiots, so that theory is a load of crap. Better breeding? Oh, that’s a laugh! You think that inter-breeding with family members makes you better? That, my friend, is an evolutionary dead-end. Just because your father shagged his cousin, or maybe his sister, to give birth to you, does not make you better in any way, shape or form.”

“You bastard!” the boy yelled and sprang forward with his fists clenched.

Harry almost laughed, it was so easy. He took a small side step and used the boy’s momentum to smash him against the wall. He screamed, and fell to the floor with blood pouring from his nose. The boy scrambled back towards the dubious safety of his friends.

“You really are a bunch of stupid little shits, aren’t you?” Harry spat. “Now, I’m going to tell you once and once only. If I catch any of you causing any trouble to anyone in this school again, I’m going to shove your meat and two veg into a meat grinder. Got it?”

“Yeah, we’ve got it,” Harper spat. “Now, give us back our wands!”

“Sure,” Harry said, and snapped the boy’s wand in two before throwing it at him.

“You bastard!” Harper raged, staring at the broken pieces of his wand now lying on the floor.

“Oh, boo-hoo,” Harry snorted. “Maybe this will teach you to behave yourself. Remember, next time it might be your neck I snap.”

He then took the wand of the boy who had tried to lecture him on the superiority of pure-bloods and looked at it meaningfully.

“No, don’t!” the boy shouted in alarm. “That wand has been in my family for generations! My father will kill me if anything happens to it.”

“Oh, your story has touched my heart,” Harry said pleasantly, before snapped the wand into four pieces. “Out with the old, in with the new,” he grinned.

The boy fell to his knees, staring at the shattered wand with tears in his eyes.

Harry then threw the one unbroken wand at the remaining boy, who had stayed silent throughout the exchange. He caught it in surprise. The boy was even more surprised when a second later he was hit by an Incarcerous Charm, and he tumbled to the floor. Harper and his prideful friend followed seconds later.

“Are you girls alright?” Harry asked, finally having the chance to address Michelle and her friends.

“Oh, yes, Harry,” Michelle cried and, to his surprise, she leapt forward and wrapped her arms around him. The other three girls tittered at her behaviour.

“Well, let me know if any of these fools give you any trouble in future, okay?” he said, hugging the upset girl gently and smiling knowingly at her friends.

“We will, Harry,” Cerys agreed. “Normally, we wouldn’t get caught like this, but these gits grabbed us as we were walking along the corridor and dragged us here.”

“If they try anything like that again, they won’t have any fingers left to grab anything,” Harry said in a loud voice, knowing that the bound boys could hear him perfectly. “Come on, we’ll leave this bunch here. I’m sure someone will find them eventually.”

The three girls hurried past the incapacitated Slytherins, although Hannah did stop to blow a raspberry at Harper, and back towards the main corridor. Harry gently began to lead Michelle after them, but she tugged him back and looked up at him with a serious expression.

“Harry, I have to talk to you in private,” she hissed. “It’s really important!”

“Okay,” Harry agreed warily. “Meet me at the Sundial Garden at six tonight. Is that alright for you?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” she whispered, before letting Harry go and hurrying after her friends.

Harry watched her leave, wondering what was so important that the young girl had to speak to him in private about.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP HP

After lunch, Harry decided to grab the bull by the horns and seek out his Head of House before be received the inevitable summons. He made his way to Snape’s office and knocked firmly once.

“Enter,” he heard Snape’s voice drawl.

Without hesitation, Harry opened the door and marched in, stopping a few feet in front of Snape’s desk. The man looked up at him with thinly-disguised contempt.

“What do you want, Potter?” Snape snapped at him.

“I assumed you would want to talk to me about that little altercation I had with six of my fellow Slytherins this morning,” Harry said blandly. “I thought I’d save you the trouble of summoning me.”

“No one has mentioned any altercation to me,” Snape sneered.

“But you know about it anyway, don’t you?” Harry countered.

“Indeed, and I seem to remember you promising not to attack any of your fellow pupils in this very office just a week ago,” Snape pointed out coldly.

“The boys in question had managed to corner four second-year Hufflepuff girls and were tormenting them,” Harry explained calmly. “If there is one thing I truly hate, it’s a bully.”

“Really? That surprising, bearing in mind your own father was one,” Snape growled.

“I understand my father wasn’t the most pleasant of people when he was younger, but he grew out of it,” Harry said. “Besides, his bullying was quite selective, wasn’t it? As I understand it, he tended to target those that supported pure-blood supremacy, or had a liking for the Dark Arts. I’ve never heard of him going after a bunch of defenceless female Hufflepuffs, for instance.”

“James Potter was an arrogant, childish, pig-headed idiot who should have been expelled from Hogwarts a dozen times!” Snape raged. “You accused me of bigotry, but Gryffindor’s golden boy received far more preferential treatment than I have ever given out to one of my Slytherins. Apparently, being a Quidditch star is sufficient for all your sins to be forgiven.”

“Really? I rather understood that James Potter and Sirius Black held the record for the number of detentions they served, not to mention House Points lost. Of course, they were both talented students who won as many points as they lost, but I’m sure that’s immaterial to you, isn’t it?” Harry pointed out. “Besides, do you really think my mother would have married him if he was as bad as you make out?”

Snape glared at him with undisguised hatred, but said nothing.

“People do change as they get older, you know,” Harry continued. “James Potter became a kinder, more compassionate man as he grew, which is why Lily Evans fell in love with him. You, on the other hand, became an angry, bitter individual as the years passed, interested in Dark Arts and eventually taking the Dark Mark. Do you really ever believe that my mother would have ignored those things and ended up with you? Honestly?”

For a second, Harry thought he had pushed the man too far, as his pale face turned a spectacular shade of red and he started to fumble in his robes, presumably for his wand.

“Life isn’t fair, sir,” Harry said in a placating tone. After all, Snape had information he needed, and that changed the rules of the game. “I can’t blame you for loving my mother, either. From what I know of her, she was a remarkable woman.”

Snape paused and stared at Harry in disbelief. He seemed to be struggling to find the words to speak. After a long pause, he seemed to calm down enough to articulate himself.

“You’re not what I was expecting, Potter, not by a long chalk. How do you seem to know so much about everything?” the greasy-haired man demand.

“I have many sources of information,” Harry replied evasively.

“McGonagall says that you deny being a spy for the Ministry,” Snape pressed. “Personally, I don’t see how you could have remained hidden for so long without their help, or be privy to so much classified information. Is that it, Potter? Are you Scrimgeour’s little pet?”

“That’s rich, coming from someone who’s been on the end of Dumbledore’s leash for years,” Harry retorted. “Is it worth it? I mean, you’re playing the most dangerous game in the world, acting as a spy in Voldemort’s inner court. Are you really convinced that Dumbledore will really do anything useful with the information you collect at such person risk?”

“What choice do I have? The Dark Lord has to be stopped and the Ministry are incapable of opposing him. Our only chance is to back Albus Dumbledore. He’s defeated one Dark Lord, remember, and he still might defeat a second,” Snape snapped.

“Except he can’t, can he? That idiotic bloody prophecy that you so neatly dropped into Voldemort’s hands clearly states that he won’t be the one to stop the Dark Lord. This stupid bloody scar on my forehead says that’s my job,” Harry replied, anger creeping into his voice.

“How can you possibly know these things?” Snape gasped.

“Oh, I know a great deal, but there is more that I still need to learn. What I would like to propose is a trade of information, including things I’m certain Dumbledore would never have dreamed of telling you. In turn, you have to answer my questions. How does that sound?” Harry asked intensely.

“Oh, no, Potter! I’m not betraying Dumbledore’s confidence in me without good reason. More to the point, I want some assurance that what you’ll tell me is truthful, and without knowing how you’ve come by your knowledge, I don’t see how you can confirm anything,” Snape replied in a low growl.

Harry pondered the matter for a moment, debating how much to tell him. In the end, he knew he’d have to give away more than he’d intended. He had to know what had become of the diary Ginevra Weasley had briefly possessed, and Snape was the only man who could tell him.

“Alright, I won’t disclose all my sources, but I will tell you one,” Harry said. “Peter Pettigrew.”

“Pettigrew?” Snape gasped. “Is he still alive?”

“No,” Harry confirmed flatly.

“Did you kill him, then?” Snape sneered. “The Dark Lord had most of his Inner Circle out looking for him for months. Most of us assumed his nerve had gone, and he’d fled overseas.”

“It wasn’t me that killed him, it was my guardian,” Harry corrected. “Before he passed on, however, Peter told us many interesting things. Pettigrew probably knew a lot more about Voldemort than the Dark Lord ever intended him to. Being a rat and lurking in dark places just seemed to come as second nature to that man.”

Snapes eyes narrowed. “This guardian of yours,” he began, “he wouldn’t have anything to do with that old man Lord Voldemort encountered in Godric’s Hallow a few months ago, would it?”

Harry remaining steadfastly tight-lipped, but Snape seemed to take his silence as confirmation.

“That man greatly troubled the Dark Lord. In all his years, he has only every encounter one man who was a match for him with a wand: Albus Dumbledore. To find there was another person that rivalled that capability whom he knew nothing about was something of a shock,” Snape mussed.

“Has Voldemort recovered from his injuries, then?” Harry asked mildly.

“Yes, although it was touch and go for a while. He barely got out of that building before it exploded,” Snape confirmed. “The eight Death Eaters he had with him weren’t so lucky.”

A faint smile came to Harry’s lips. Dear old Gellert would have been happy to know he’d taken so many of Voldemort’s followers out with him, and even more pleased to know he’d hurt the Dark Lord so badly, too.

“That man was your guardian, I presume,” Snape asked intently.

“He was, but please don’t ask me for his name, because I won’t give it. You can obviously see he was immensely talented, however, and I assure you he was an excellent teacher,” Harry noted.

“Indeed, and now I find myself… intrigued as to who he possibly could have been. Only an incredibly powerful wizard would last more than five seconds against Voldemort, and this man nearly beat him,” Snape pondered, his beady, dark eyes never leaving Harry’s face.

“Beat him, possibly, but we both know that my guardian couldn’t have killed him, right?” Harry challenged. “The best he could have hoped for was to have destroyed his current body.”

Snape stared at Harry in amazement.

“You do know about Voldemort’s Horcruxes, I assume?” Harry asked.

“I had suspicions that… wait! You said Horcruxes, as in plural?” Snape bellowed, nearly leaping out of his chair.

“Correct, plural,” Harry confirmed. “He intended to make six Horcruxes in total which, along with the piece of his soul he retained in his body, would make the magically significant number seven, which appears to be the maximum number you can create without your soul degrading rapidly.”

“Not even Herpo the Foul would have done such a thing! There was no way Pettigrew would have known this information,” Snape challenged. “How did you discover this?”

“Ever heard of a man called Horace Slughorn?” Harry asked.

“Of course, he was my Potions teacher here at Hogwarts. In fact, Dumbledore tried to track him down last year in an effort to convince him to take over my present teaching post so I could move on to Defence Against the Dark Arts. He was never able to find him, though,” Snape explained.

“Well, you won’t be able to track him down now; he’s dead,” Harry said bluntly. “I wouldn’t feel too sorry for him, though. It appears dear old Horace was the one who gave the young Tom Riddle a lot of the information he needed to create his first Horcrux, which he did right here at Hogwarts when he was just sixteen. Slughorn refused to tell anyone exactly what he’d taught Riddle, at least until we found him, that is.”

“Another dead body in your wake, Potter? You seem to be well on the path to becoming a Dark Lord yourself,” Snape said angrily.

“Slughorn couldn’t be allowed to live after we’d extracted a confession out of him. Voldemort was already hunting for him and if it had been discovered exactly what the man had told us, the Dark Lord would have tripled the protection around his Horcruxes. Besides, Slughorn discovered that blurting out details of the Darkest of magics comes at a price,” Harry retorted.

“I see your logic,” Snape agreed reluctantly.

“Anyway, my guardian and I have made a start on the destruction of these items and three have already been accounted for. I believe one, maybe two, other Horcruxes are right here at Hogwarts. I’m sure it doesn’t take a genius to work out why I’ve come to this place now, does it?” Harry smirked.

“No, indeed,” Snape pondered before looking at Harry intently. “Why are you telling me all this, Potter? Aren’t you concerned that I’ll just tell Dumbledore all this information, which, if I’m not mistaken, you would not wish to see happen? You seem very keen to keep him out of the hunt for these items, for some reason.”

“You’re correct, I don’t want him involved, at all,” Harry confirmed. “But to answer your question, no, I’m not concerned that you’ll go to Dumbledore. In fact, before I leave this office, I’ll have expected you to give me a Magical Oath not to disclose this information to anyone.”

“And why would I do something like that?” Snape sneered.

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to send Voldemort incontrovertible evidence that you’ve been acting as a spy for Dumbledore all these years. I’m sure you appreciate that if he learnt of your duplicity, your life span could be measured in minutes,” Harry told the man bluntly.

Snape looked at Harry without malice. “You’re most certainly not your father’s son, are you?” he said, sounding almost impressed. “Alright, I’ll give you your vow, but my question remains: why are you telling me all of this?”

“Very simply, you have information that I need to help track down the Horcruxes in this castle,” Harry told him.

“Information? About the Horcruxes? Potter, until you confirmed it just a few minutes ago, I only suspected that such things could even exist. I didn’t truly believe that even the Dark Lord, in all his madness, would go as far as to vandalise his own soul. I’m not sure I can help you,” Severus said earnestly.

“Ah, I think you can,” Harry smiled. “Back in her first year, you confiscated a magical diary from Ginevra Weasley. What happened to that diary?”

“Why would you… sweet Merlin! You believe the diary is a Horcrux?” Snape gasped.

“It certainly sounds like it could be one, a very dangerous one, at that. I believe the diary was planted on Weasley by Lucius Malfoy in an effort to discredit Ginevra’s father. Lucius, fool that he is, didn’t realise exactly what he had been given to look after, and thought it was just a Dark magic item he could use to his benefit. Weasley was bloody lucky you took it off her, otherwise she would probably have been possessed and killed, and Voldemort would have been back a few years earlier. What happened to the diary?” Harry asked urgently.

“It’s in Dumbledore’s office,” Snape confirmed. “After I took the diary from Weasley, I showed it to the Headmaster who was fascinated by it. I left it in his care so he could research it further.”

“Hmm, that’s pretty much what I expected. Do you know why the old man hasn’t tried to destroy the diary at all?” Harry asked thoughtfully.

“To be honest, once I handed the damn thing over to Dumbledore, I never gave it another moment’s thought,” Snape admitted. “I only happened to notice once when I was in his office. He has it locked away in a display case, no doubt heavily protected.”

“I’ll have to figure out a way to get it at some point. I suspect Dumbledore has some other items of mine, too, but it remains to be seen if he’ll admit to it. I wonder if he intends to use the diary in some way?” Harry pondered.

“What do you mean? What possible use could he have for such an evil object?” Snape demanded.

“I don’t know, but there must be a reason he’s kept it intact. I wouldn’t be surprised if he uses it in some attempt to test me, or to draw me into his sphere of influence. Of course, that would mean planting it on someone, just like Lucius did, but I wouldn’t put it passed the cunning old bastard,” Harry growled.

“I find it hard to believe that the Headmaster would stoop to such levels,” Snape objected.

“Really? I believe he has a history of manipulating and using people. I’ll have to head that off, if I can,” Harry decided. “One other question, do you know of any secret room or space that could be used to hide an object anywhere within Hogwarts?”

“There are many secret rooms and passageways within the castle,” Snape confirmed. “In fact, there are probably dozens that even the Headmaster is unaware of.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. I’ll have to try questioning the resident ghosts, or perhaps the elves, to see what they know,” Harry sighed, before glancing at his watch. “It will soon be time for my next class. I’d like you to give that Magical Oath now, please.”

Snape pulled out his wand and gave the oath. While not as binding as an Unbreakable Vow, it didn’t require a third person to act as a binder. Besides, Harry still held the sword of Damocles over his head, so a simple oath would suffice.

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said as he stood to leave. “You know what we’re up against now, so if you can think of anything that will be useful…”

“I’ll let you know,” Snape confirmed. “Don’t be late for your next lesson. I’ve already had Professor Sprout complaining to me about your timekeeping.

With a simple nod, Harry left the room. He was fairly certain that he’d just collected his first ally, admittedly an unwilling one. Feeling happier, he hurried to get to his next class on time.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPH P

Severus Snape continued to stare at the door long after it had closed.

As he had stated, Potter was nothing like he had been expecting. He’d fully expected to hate the boy before he’d even met him, and he was pleased to say that he’d been correct in that assumption, even if his hate was for rather unexpected reasons.

The boy’s comments about Lily Evans had cut him to the quick, even if he had to reluctantly admit they were probably true. He’d long harboured the hope that Lily would see that idiot of a husband in his true light and leave him. When Harry had been born, that hope had dwindled into nothing. Lily was not the sort of person to abandon a son, or ever deprive a child of a proper family. Even if she had come to hate James Potter, she would have remained with him out of a sense of obligation to her son. Of course, that was ignoring the fact that Lily and James appeared to have been perfectly happy together, damn them.

Now, Harry Potter had appeared from nowhere, and within the space of a single week had managed to turn Severus’s world upside-down. Minerva had already confided that some of the things the boy had said sat very uneasily with her, and had led her to question her relationship with Albus Dumbledore. Following the short conversation he’d just had, Severus found himself in a similar position.

Why had Dumbledore kept him, his most important spy, in the dark about the Horcruxes? If he’d known about them, he could have tried to gather information on them. It caused Severus to start replaying many previous conversations he’d had with the Headmaster in his mind. There were many times when Albus had asked him strange, seemingly random, questions about events and people. Was the old man trying to interrogate him, without him even knowing? Suddenly, the world seemed a much more confusing place than it had been just a few hours before.

Severus knew he would also have to decide what he was going to do about Potter. Oh, he hated the boy without question. He hated his handsome looks, so reminiscent of his father. He hated the fact that whenever he looked at him he saw Lily’s beautiful green eyes staring back at him. He hated him for the skill and knowledge he possessed, and his damn cocksure attitude.

But despite all that, Severus would not make the mistake of underestimating the boy. Potter clearly knew how the game should be played and, from what Severus could tell, was a powerful wizard. He was beginning to suspect that if anyone was going to take the Dark Lord down, it was more likely that it would be Potter rather than Dumbledore who succeeded.

As disgusted as he was by the idea, it appeared that he would have no choice other than to work with the boy. After all, it wasn’t the first time that he’d been forced into an uneasy alliance, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Sighing bitterly, Severus stood and made his way out of the office. He had a lesson scheduled, and he needed time to think.












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