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Chapter 17 : Bloodlines
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A/N Well it looks like I couldn't stay away. I keep saying it, but there really will be more than a week until next update... I think. : D Well, I hope you keep enjoying and do review. i do so enjoy them. lol Take care to all of you. Kyle
That evening, Harry and Marc sat in the Gryffindor common room, both sitting in their regular seats around the fire grate and discussing all that they had seen that day. Marc was doing far better already, almost having forgotten that Harry had lost them in time, and he actually spoke enthusiastically about his lessons. He found that the lessons in the past were a great deal simpler than the ones being taught in their time, and he was doing far better than most of the other students.
After having been told about professor Binns’ status, it took Marc several moments of stunned silence before both boys started laughing at the idea.
‘I wish I could have seen your face. It must have been priceless! I can’t wait for History now,’ Marc said between snorts of laughter, attracting several odd glances from the students around them.
‘I’m afraid the darn lessons are still just as boring. At least when he’s a ghost we can laugh every time he drifts through someone.’ They started to laugh again.
‘What’s so funny over here?’ a familiar voice called from the table under the window.
Harry turned to see Sirius and James walking over toward them, curious looks on their faces. He wasn’t sure what to do. He had already met his father, and as Dumbledore pointed out, it certainly left a lot to be desired. He had managed to avoid him through the whole day now, but it appeared he was running out of escape plans. Marc looked nervous and Harry decided that he would just have to find a way to get rid of them smoothly.
‘Oh nothing really. Just a funny moment in class is all,’ he said to his father and Godfather with a small smile before turning back to Marc.
‘Go on then, what was so funny?’ Sirius asked again, shaking his long hair out of his face and clearly not leaving until they heard something amusing.
‘He was just telling me about how between the both of you, Gryffindor lost fifteen points today,’ Marc said with a smile and mock innocence. ‘Wish I could’ve been there to see it,’ he added with a grin. Harry rolled his eyes with an inward groan.
Sirius scowled at him and James grabbed his robes to pull him back to the table, giving both boys a death glare.
‘Great job Marc,’ Harry said sarcastically, ‘Now we’re definitely on their bad side.’
‘You said you needed a way to avoid them,’ Marc said plainly. ‘Chances are they’ll leave you alone now.’
‘No, I have to share a dormitory with them, so chances are I’ll wake up with boils from head to toe. Thanks a lot.’
Marc grimaced at the thought, trying his best to smile innocently for forgiveness, only to have Harry swat him across the head and start laughing again.
The rest of the evening went by quickly until Harry and Marc found themselves alone in the common room, the fire quickly dissipating in the grate. Harry checked his watch one last time before standing and saying goodnight to his fellow time prisoner.
‘They’ve been up there for nearly an hour,’ he said to Marc, ‘That’s plenty of time to fall asleep. Wish me luck and I’ll see you in the morning...maybe.’
Both boys went up the stairs to their respective dormitories, Marc entering his on the platform below Harry’s and closing the door after a last goodnight. Harry slowly opened the door to his own room and crept in quietly, noticing that all of the lights were off and that his roommates had indeed called it a night. He crept over to the four-poster with his trunk in front of it and pulled down the covers. He quickly changed into his pajamas and started to get into bed.
Harry lay there in the dark for a few minutes, thinking of all that had happened in the last forty eight hours and found that falling asleep was not going to be a possibility. He sat up again and looked around the dormitory at each of the Marauders’ closed hangings, all four harbouring their own sleeping legend.
Finally he got up and walked quietly over to the window ledge to sit down on the cushioned seat and look out onto the grounds. He often did this in the past when he needed to think. As the silver splashed grounds of Hogwarts spread out before him, Harry’s mind turned to the first time he had spent the night in the castle. He had spent much of that night sitting in this very seat and looking out over the grounds, thanking the stars for taking him away from the Dursley’s and hoping with all his heart that he was not dreaming.
Harry decided that tomorrow he would have to apologize to Sirius and James and hope that they accepted his apology. He had always dreamed that he would meet his parents one day, and now that he had, it had taken him less than a day to make his father hate him.
He watched the dark treetops sway, for whatever reasons in the forbidden forest, under the shining rays of the full moon and started to think about all the things he had left behind in his own time. What would Ron do when he found out Harry was missing? He knew for certain that even though Hermione was not talking to him, she would be worried sick as well. Dumbledore would probably assume the worst and think that he had been taken by Death Eaters or something equally terrible, and sooner or later it would be broadcast in the Daily Prophet. Harry could picture the Headlines already and knew that Rita Skeeter would have the time of her life with it: Tragedy Befalls the Boy-Who-Lived.
The sad and worried face of Fleur Delacour was the next one to pop into his mind, and Harry felt a pang of guilt at playing with his Time Turner instead of going to visit her like he had promised. For the first time in his life, things had been going as well as they could and he had gone and messed with it. Without thinking, he angrily slammed a fist down on the window sill making the large panes of glass rattle threateningly and clatter throughout the room He turned around quickly, sure that the loud noise would have woken his roommates but not a single sound or stirring of the hangings could be heard or seen.
Harry waited another several moments before realisation dawned and he crept towards the nearest bed. He now understood why his four roommates had gone to bed so early and why they were keeping so quiet. They were not there. He pulled back the thick red hangings from around Remus’ four-poster and was proven correct at finding the werewolf’s bed perfectly made. His eyes widened again at this thought and he rushed back toward the window to check the moon. It was almost completely full, meaning that Harry knew exactly where the Marauders were and where they would be for the next two nights as well.
Deciding that this at least guaranteed him two more nights of safety from their pranks, Harry lay back down in his bed and tried his best to clear his mind. He knew he would be unable to completely rid it of thought, but perhaps he would get a decent night’s sleep to prepare him for whatever the Marauders had in store for tomorrow.
The night air was cool and Harry found himself walking along the grounds of Hogwarts, slowly rounding the lake and watching the calm surface of the water, the moonlight gently reflecting and glowing in the cover’s mist. Everything was quiet and the sky was perfectly clear, the stars shining brilliantly as to outdo the moon. For once in his life, Harry felt at peace as he strolled calmly in what he knew was the safest place on Earth.
Unfortunately the calm was quickly broken by a flashing light in the distance, easily getting Harry’s attention as it shone up into the velvety blue sky. He started to make his way curiously toward the edge of the forest, unsure of what he might find, but not feeling even an inkling of apprehension.
Step by step the glow just beyond the forest’s edge became brighter and brighter, only causing Harry’s curiosity to rise in strength and his pace to quicken. The leaves on the ground stayed right where they were, no wind of any kind to rustle them as he walked. When he finally reached the forest’s outer edge, he quickly parted the thick branches before him and stepped into what he saw as a blinding green light.
Harry shielded his eyes with a hand and when the light subsided he finally pulled it away and his eyes were cast upon a terrifying scene played out in the farthest thing from a forest. On all sides of him he saw walls of gleaming black marble, stretching straight up to the ceiling twenty five feet above. The only sources of light coming from flickering green torches tightly bolted to the walls.
In the center of the magnificent dark room stood a hooded figure and surrounding it were at least eighty other robe clad forms. It took Harry but a moment to recognize the central figure as Tom Riddle, his grey flecked raven hair and stony eyes just as cold as the day he watched him kill his parents.
It was plainly obvious to Harry that he could not be seen as he stepped further into the room, edging closer to Riddle in hopes of hearing what he said. The dark wizard stood in the middle of the room a half smirk on his face, and it was not until Harry grew closer that he found the source of the earlier green glow. On the ground in front of Riddle lay a body, still masked in its slitted hood, and above was Riddle’s wand still pointed at the fallen Death Eater. The others seemed frightened as Harry saw many of their shoulders shaking, but none of them dared to take a step back.
‘Let this be a warning to all those who do not wish to follow orders. If you do not feel I am correct in doing what I do, please, I invite you to step forward,’ his voice called out, low and extremely intimidating. Any of his followers who were not shaking before, now began to tremble under their masters harsh words.
‘You are fortunate that I gave even one warning, for from this day forward there will be no mercy. If anyone fails me, they will feel the full power of Lord Voldemort’s displeasure.’ He said this in a loud shout, all signs of a smirk now gone, to be replaced by a thin lipped jaw and a fiery look in his eyes.
Harry watched as Voldemort dismissed the majority of his followers, much to their relief, but a dozen or so Death Eaters remained in a semicircle around their Lord.
‘I have specific jobs for each of you, and as I have demonstrated, there will be no place for failure. He nodded to the first three robed figures and they stepped forward. ‘You will take care of several thorns in my side, each of them members of this wretched Order. The old man thinks he can match my power, but he is sadly mistaken and I shall be the one to show him. The senior Prewetts are to be disposed of tonight. Do leave something for their children to find,’ he added with a reinstated smirk. The three figures bowed low before disapparating.
The next four stepped forward and waited for their instructions.
‘The Fenwick’s have been more troublesome than is warranted. Do dispose of them all.’ He paused for a moment before speaking again. ‘Actually, do leave the eldest son alive. Cripple him if you feel the need, but ensure that he watches the others die.’
Harry began to shake with rage, just as with his other encounters with the Dark Lord. He knew these people, or at least had seen their photographs. He knew that Benjy Fenwick would be murdered in three years, but he now also knew that he would be forced to watch his entire family be murdered tonight.
The next two groups were given orders until only two figures remained in front of Riddle.
‘Remove your masks,’ he commanded calmly, watching as both hoods were pulled down and two familiar faces looked on to their master’s. The first man pulled back his jet black hair allowing his handsome features that mirrored his younger brother’s to be bathed in flickering torchlight. The other had his long silvery hair pulled back already, allowing his pointed face to look up at his master.
‘Black, you will do something very important for me. You are new, but have already proven to be invaluable. Do not take that as a safe card however. You will be discarded as easily as the next failure if need be.
Harry watched as the man’s light blue eyes contracted and a visible wince splayed across his features for a mere heartbeat. Voldemort noticed this and sneered.
‘You will handle our Miss Meadows. She is in the Department of Mysteries and has been more than slightly aggravating. Do not kill her, as we will need her later on. Do ensure that she is unable to work for some time,’ he said in an oddly amused voice, no signs of amusement conveyed by his features. ‘And Black, do not fail me. I understand that you have just recently married, and I would hate for anything to happen to your wife.’
Harry saw a fiery glare in Regulus’ eyes quickly replace his fear, but he still bowed low before his master and disapparated. Voldemort now turned to his single remaining follower, dark brown eyes meeting steely grey.
‘Now Lucius, I also have a very special task for you. It may take some time, but there are several students at the old fool’s school that I think will prove to be excellent additions to my ranks. Having only graduated what, three years ago, I am sure you would be perfect to convince them of our cause.’
‘Yes my Lord. It should prove little difficulty,’ he said with such confidence that Harry smirked, knowing what would follow.
‘Do not forget your place young Mister Malfoy. There is no place for arrogance in my ranks.’ His wand was quickly over the blond and with a quick shout of ‘Crucio’ Lucius was writhing on the ground in immeasurable pain. Several moments passed before the curse was lifted and Lucius was able to kneel upright, gasping terribly and clutching his chest.
‘You will have me my new followers by the years end, or you will suffer far worse than that. Knott and Crabbe will come easily, but it is young Misters Snape and Pettigrew who should prove a challenge. Do not fail me Lucius,’ he said again, before the blond man nodded and disapparated, leaving Harry standing alone in front of the monster that would soon mark him as his equal.
Voldemort turned to leave and started toward a door at the far end of the large black chamber. Harry watched him leave and felt such anger boil up in him as he had never felt before. He knew he could not be seen or felt, but wished with all his hatred that he could cast the Avada Kedavra on the creature in front of him. He knew nothing would happen so instead, he screamed.
Harry Potter let out one of the most throat tearing shouts of pain he had ever let out before, everything around him paling next to the feeling of all his anger leaving him in one long release of breath. The scar on his forehead burned more fiercely than he had ever felt it before, feeling as though someone was running a sharp dagger back and forth across it.
He opened his eyes in time to find that Voldemort had now stopped dead in his tracks and was reaching up to his head with his hands. Not a moment passed after Harry’s shout ended, and Riddle’s began. A torrential yell of hatred emerged from the strong jawed man as he fell to his knees in what looked like pain and confusion. The last thing Harry saw was Tom Riddle fall to the ground limp, before his eyes were blocked by something red and he too fell over.
Harry opened his eyes the next morning to blinding white walls and the sterile smell of potions and bandages. He reached over to his bedside for his glasses and quickly placed them on his face, instantly clearing his vision and allowing him to look around the hospital wing.
Madam Pomfrey was bustling around in the corner of the wing, pouring a potion down some unfortunate student’s throat, while he simply sat their and allowed it. Harry chuckled at this, and recalled how quickly he had given up on fighting the insistent healer whenever she forced a method of treatment on him. He closed his eyes and turned onto his side with hopes of getting a little more sleep before going to class, but when he opened his eyes again, he was shocked to see three people slung over chairs at his bedside.
Sirius Black, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew were all seated uncomfortably in chairs next to him, Sirius fast asleep with his feet up on the next bed. James snored softly while the shortest of the three twitched slightly as he rested.
Harry narrowed his eyes and he glared at Wormtail, wishing he could wring the filthy traitor’s neck without anyone noticing. That’s when he remembered his nightmare and how Riddle had said that Pettigrew was not yet a Death Eater. Neither was Snape. He continued to glare at the rat animagus until James started to stir and his eyes flitted open.
He saw that Harry was awake and nudged his friends awake as well.
‘How you feeling mate?’ he asked in what sounded like genuine concern, confusing Harry after the way he had been glaring at him for the past two days.
‘I’m alright, I guess. Why wouldn’t I be? And how did I get to the hospital wing,’ he asked in a hoarse voice, just realizing that he had not come here on his own.
‘Well, first of all, we found you on the dormitory floor this morning with your face all caked in blood. We tried to wake you, but you just wouldn’t have it,’ Sirius answered, a tone of worry in his voice too.
‘How’s your head doing?’ Peter ventured to ask in a high voice, winning a brief glare from Harry before he hid it and tried to smile.
‘I’ve got a bit of a headache, but other than that I should be fine,’ Harry said lifting a hand to his head and pulling it back quickly as he felt the large bandage on his forehead.
‘You had a pretty nasty cut on you forehead mate,’ James said with a slight wince. ‘At first there was too much blood for us to tell where it was coming from, but once Pomfrey got it all cleaned up there was the strangest scar underneath. We’re still not sure where the blood came from though,’ he said with a confused look on his face.
‘What happened to you last night?’ Sirius asked earnestly. ‘What did you land on to give you such a wonky mark on your forehead? I mean it looks like a lightning bolt.’ The other two nodded in agreement.
Harry searched his brain for an excuse for his roommates and found that nothing plausible was coming to mind. Luckily he was saved by a familiar and calm voice from the other end of the room.
‘I believe I asked that Mister Portus not be badgered with questions, gentlemen.’ The three visitors narrowed their eyes as the Headmaster made his way over to Harry’s bedside and conjured a comfortable chair to sit in. ‘I am sure that Mister Portus is grateful for your prompt actions this morning, but I must ask that you all get back to your common room so that I may have a word with him. I promise that you may question him all you like when he gets back,’ he added with a small smile and a wink at Harry.
The Marauders did not look pleased by this, but all knew that there was little point in arguing with Dumbledore. They stood to leave and Harry watched as they collected Remus from the farthest bed in the corner. Apparently he had been the one to receive potion from Madam Pomfrey. Harry assumed that it was a Pepper Up Potion to help him gain some liveliness after last night’s transformation.
Harry turned his eyes back to meet the Headmaster’s and groaned quietly when he realized he would have to offer some sort of explanation for his presence in the hospital wing. Dumbledore chuckled slightly at this, before fixing his gaze back on his student and starting to speak.
‘I’m afraid I would like some sort of explanation Mister Potter, even if it is vague and partly fabricated.’ His eyes twinkled brightly in amusement as he said this. Harry smiled oddly and narrowed his eyes at the Headmaster slightly.
‘Have I said something amusing Mister Potter?’ Dumbledore enquired, the smile never leaving his face.
‘No professor,’ Harry started and laughed quietly. ‘Actually yes, you have. You keep calling me Mister Potter, and I’m simply not used to it is all,’ he explained with a smile.
‘Have I come up with some ingenious nickname for you then, or have you inherited the title of Marauder as well?’ the old man suggested with the tiniest of smirks playing on his face.
‘Actually no, you simply call me Harry.’
Dumbledore’s face sobered and he stared at the boy in front of him with great interest. ‘I figured I must have kept close tabs on you, being your father’s son, mind you not close enough if I allowed you to escape me with a Time Turner. But it is quite seldom that I am on a first name basis with my students. That is until they have graduated of course,’ he added thoughtfully.
‘Yes, well it really is one sided professor. I can’t say that I’ve ever called you Albus, and it will be quite the frosty day in the Dark Lord’s home before I do,’ Harry said, getting a hearty laugh from the Headmaster.
‘As fun as this catching up has been, I must ask that you give me some sort of explanation, without giving away details of the future, Harry.’ Harry let out a deep sigh before deciding what to say.
‘I’m afraid that it is near impossible to leave the future out of my explanation, although I will leave out any monumental details.’ Dumbledore nodded. ‘Well, as I’m certain you’ve gathered, Voldemort is indeed still around in eighteen years time.’ Harry watched the Headmaster’s features darken before continuing. ‘I shan’t give you anything vital, but suffice it to say that the cause of the Order of the Phoenix is far from lost. Do not give up hope.’
Upon hearing the name of his Order, Dumbledore’s eyes widened in slight surprise, something Harry had never succeeded in seeing.
‘I can’t tell you when or how, but I can tell you that Voldemort’s reign of terror will not span the next eighteen years. The light is successful in his downfall and there is quite a long period of peace before he rises again.’ Dumbledore seemed much more at ease with this news and smiled slightly as Harry continued.
‘As I’m certain you know, the wizarding world is counting on you to bring his downfall, but unfortunately it is not you, but I who manages that.’ The second time surprise found its way onto the old man’s face came in the form of an arched eyebrow. ‘The result of our battle left me with this,’ Harry said, reaching up and pulling off his bandage to expose his scar. ‘It is you who taught me about my connection to the Dark Lord through this scar, and now I fear I’ve done something terrible. In my time I dream of what he does, and can feel his emotions. In this time, he has not yet scarred me, but I dreamed of him last night and I saw what he planned before I passed out.’
Dumbledore gave him a grave look and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
‘I know it’s early but if you send an owl to the Minister to dispatch Aurors, I’m certain you will find that the senior Prewett’s, and all the Fenwick’s, save for Benjy, are dead.’ He could feel warm tears falling down his cheeks as he spoke, and as he watched the Headmaster’s face, he noticed something in his eyes that he very rarely saw there. Anger. ‘You’ll want to tell Fudge to find Dorcas Meadows quickly as well, although she’s not dead, she will need medical assistance.’
Harry closed his eyes tightly and tried to stop his tears so that he could go on, and Dumbledore’s grip tightened slightly in reassurance.
‘I’m afraid there are other details sir, much more grave, but far too pivotal for me to tell,’ he finished with a glance down at the ground.
‘Well Harry, it would appear as though you have every right to be upset,’ Dumbledore said calmly, although Harry knew he must have been aching in pain for his colleagues. ‘I for one would not want to share my dreams with Tom, nor do I feel that I would be strong enough to endure it as long as you have. I will send an owl to Millicent as soon as we are done talking Harry.’
Harry gave him a strange look, and received a small smile in return.
‘The Minister for Magic, Harry, is presently Millicent Bagnold, and I am delighted yet unsurprised, to hear that Undersecretary Fudge will one day take her place. Good man, Cornelius.’ Harry tried to suppress a groan at the thought of Fudge being a good Minister for Magic, and just barely succeeded.
‘Do try to rest Harry, and Madam Pomfrey should have you back in your lessons after lunch,’ Dumbledore told him before standing to leave.
‘Wait professor. I know this may be slightly troublesome, but I have to ask you anyway. And believe me when I say it hurts me more than anyone, but will hurt more if I don’t ask. I need to study Occlumency.’ Dumbledore’s head tilted to one side in thought.
‘Very well, I can teach you, but only on Tuesday nights I’m afraid.’ Harry laughed when he realised that Dumbledore’s schedule did not change over the next eighteen years.
‘Actually professor, is there anyone else who could teach me?’ Harry asked and looked horrified by the look of mock offense on Dumbledore’s face.
‘Let me assure you Harry, that I am a fairly gifted Occlumens,’ he said, his voice soaked with amusement.
‘I know you are professor,’ Harry told him apologetically, ‘but when Voldemort takes over my mind, the last thing I want is for you to be in it.’ Dumbledore’s amusement vanished and a look of understanding took its place.
‘I see. I will find you a suitable professor by Tuesday night, and until then Harry, feel better and practice clearing your mind.’
The next days went by smoothly, Harry and Marc continuing to attend their classes and making friends with many of the other students. Most of the houses were quite interested in meeting the new students, however, Harry found that the house rivalries were just as strong in this time as in their own. None was worse of course, than Gryffindor and Slytherin.
This was promptly made clear to him by his father and the other Marauders as they chose to play their legendary pranks on selected members of the loathed serpent house. Harry decided that the Marauders could certainly have given the Weasley twins a run for their money. That is until they opened their joke shop. Even James and Sirius would have trouble competing with Skiving Snackboxes and Portable Swamps.
Since the night he had returned from the hospital wing, Harry’s sixth year roommates had taken a keen interest in him and had seemingly forgotten why they had disliked him. Harry was certain not to ask why, and decided to join the close-knit group of friends, and even got Marc to join them lurking through the castle when he could.
Tonight the six Gryffindors were sneaking down the third floor corridor, all in the open as James had yet to reveal his invisibility cloak to the newcomers. Harry decided to say nothing and that when his father trusted him enough to do so, he would show that he had one too. Marc liked this tactic, and grinned from ear to ear at the thought of their faces when they found out.
They had just passed McGonagall’s office when they slowed to decide where they should go next. Sirius suggested that they go to the kitchens and that he had learned an amazing new charm to cover the Slytherins in pink itching boils, if they could just get a hold of their morning breakfast. James immediately agreed with the idea, and Harry was surprised when Marc suggested that they place the charm on the Slytherin juice containers, that way they could be certain to only affect them. He was nearly knocked over as James and Sirius both threw their arms over his shoulder conspiratorially to discuss it further.
Not five minutes later, the six boys were creeping down to the end of the hall to where Harry figured they would take the secret passage across from the Charms classroom. Unfortunately, the Marauders all stopped and watched him with interest as he pulled out his wand and tapped the third brick up form the floor, and four over from the doorway to allow the passage to open. Harry turned to face them with a small smile.
‘Are we going to the kitchens or not?’ James and Sirius exchanged bemused looks, while Remus studied him carefully.
‘How do you know about this passage?’ Sirius asked him suspiciously as he stepped in behind Harry.
Harry mentally kicked himself. He was supposed to be feigning idiocy as far as his knowledge of the castle went, and now he’d gone and used one of the more discreet passages in the whole school.
‘Oh this?’ Harry stalled for a moment. ‘It was nothing. Fabian showed me yesterday. Said it was the quickest way to get to the kitchens if I was hungry.’
‘Really? I didn’t know Prewett knew about any of the passages,’ Sirius said with interest but then kept on his way as the others followed them. ‘Mind you, those Prewetts do a lot that surprise us, so who am I to say anything.’ James laughed and continued on his way as well.
It didn’t take them long at all before the pear in the picture of fruit guarding the kitchens was tickled, and the boys had entered quietly to manage their mischief. Marc’s idea was quite bright and soon all of the Slytherin juice apparel was lined by the invisible charm. They left quickly once they had finished, for fear of being seen by a house elf. Not that they would ever tell a professor, but there was the chance that they might become suspicious and try to clean all of the dishes once more.
Harry didn’t climb back into his bed again until after two o’clock in the morning. Along with Marc and the Marauders, he had managed to set up a record amount of pranks around the silent castle, to catch the first unfortunate student or professor who stumbled upon them. Most of the nastier hexes were conveniently placed in the dungeons however, and then of course outside professor Sharpbane’s office door.
Harry had felt nervous about the latter, but figured she deserved it, and he did really want to see her come into the Great Hall for breakfast with her ears painted scarlet and gold. Harry finally drifted off to sleep with thoughts of boil covered Slytherins and a furious Potions Mistress, thoughts of his future life and friends long forgotten for the time being.
The next morning turned out to be slightly different than he had expected, although the humour was certainly still there. Not twenty minutes into breakfast, professor Sharpbane had walked in to sit at the head table with an extremely smug and satisfied look on her face. She sent a brief smirk in the Marauders’ direction before looking back to her breakfast.
None of the boys were certain as to what had happened to not make the hex work and started to discuss it quietly at their places. Unfortunately, their conversation was interrupted when professor McGonagall stormed through the doors and straight to the Gryffindor table, her ears glowing a bright gold and crimson. Harry was not sure whether to laugh or cry, but fought to keep silent as he realised the rest of the hall was doing the same.
‘This is absolutely inexcusable!’ she shouted at the group of boys, her face pale with fury. ‘Potter and Black, detention for a week.’
‘But professor!’ James started to protest, giving her an earnest look and trying to look honest.
‘Save it Potter. Feel lucky that it is only a week. If this does not wear off in the next hour, I guarantee the detentions will increase!’
With that said she stormed up to the head table and started to eat her breakfast angrily, trying to ignore the soft chuckles coming from the Headmaster sitting next to her. Lucky for Dumbledore, his soft laughter was smothered by an uproar of filthy language filling the Hall from the Slytherin table. It appeared that each of the students had mysteriously been covered in itching pink boils from head to toe, and were now scratching at them furiously while trying to figure out what had happened.
Harry could not help it, and burst out laughing. Much to his relief, the rest of the student body had done the same, making his voice one of many that now filled the enormous hall. Professor Sharpbane looked furious as she got to her feet and rushed to the aid of her students, most of them ignoring her as they continued to scratch incessantly. Dumbledore now smiled broadly and winked at the Gryffindor table, and though she tried to hide it with a napkin, Harry could tell that even McGonagall was smirking as well.
That morning’s classes had been both educational and amusing, as both Potions and Charms were interrupted repeatedly by Slytherin students trickling in from the Hospital wing. Most of them looked furious, but a good portion of them could do nothing about it due to the calming draft given to them by Madam Pomfrey while she reversed the hex.
The six boys responsible for the disruptions laughed all throughout lunch while they watched the Slytherins pointedly avoid the food and drink in front of them. They looked extremely hungry, but far too wary to risk being covered in boils again. Snape in particular, stood out from the others as he glared at James and Sirius from where he sat at the end of the table, faint pink marks still visible on his sallow skin. Harry laughed at seeing the boy so angry, but at the same time felt slightly guilty for causing him so much pain when he knew that he would turn out to be one of the members of the Order. He settled for just walking to Defense class with the Marauders, and not saying anything about the Slytherins at all.
This would be his second Defense class since he had arrived in this time, and both he and Marc had decided that the professor was one of the best they had had. Harry knew he did not hold a candle to Lupin, but he figured that no one ever would. Professor Prynell looked very much like the werewolf’s older version, sandy blond hair flecked with grey and warm honey eyes. He did not look near as tired as Remus did, but he gave off the same calm and relaxed sense and always offered interesting topics of study in his class. The students all seemed to love it and rarely complained at all. It was all of the Marauders’ favorite class, and Harry had always preferred this course above all others.
Today they entered the room to find the professor sitting behind his desk with several texts open as he perused them calmly, waiting for his class to arrive. He sat behind his desk with his chin resting on his hand, continuing to read until the last student entered and took her seat. Then he stood and cleared his throat before starting.
‘Very well, today we will be discussing two separate concepts. As usual one will be theory and the other practical. We will of course begin with theory and I hope you all take note, as this is sure to be on your N.E.W.T’s next year.’ There was a collective groan and the professor smiled at them all.
‘Now, we will start by discussing the history of sorcery and the differences in the magics used by sorcerers and wizards. Then we can discuss the founders of our good school.’ Harry could hear the scribbling of quills already as he simply wrote down the word sorcery on his parchment.
‘Yes Lankaster?’ the professor replied to a large Hufflepuff boy at the back of the room.
‘I was just curious professor. Do sorcery and wizardry not both use wand magic?’
‘Yes they do, although sorcerers are not limited by the wand. Depending on the level of power attained by a given sorcerer or sorceress, they may not need a source of magical essence to channel their powers. Some have managed to do it on their own, using simply their own magic from within and casting wandless spells.’ He looked around the room again before continuing.
‘Now, we all know that every witch and wizard has a certain magic potential within them, separating us from the Muggle, and that it is quite uncommon for them to perform even the slightest of spells without a wand. This magic is proven by anyone who has ever caused something to happen by accident. This occurs when a witch or wizard’s emotions are uncontrolled and certain mishaps can occur. The Ministry has developed a department for this very reason. The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad was developed to quickly locate anyone who has had an episode and to nullify the results, whether by repairing objects or simply altering Muggles’ memories.’
‘Does this happen to grown wizards professor?’ a Hufflepuff girl asked from beside Harry.
‘Not often, but it is possible. Most adults have learned to control their emotions to a certain degree, but it had been known to happen from time to time. The most common cases are found within Muggleborns before they learn they’re magical. Not knowing that they have the potential to do magic, severely limits their control over it, often resulting in accidents.’
Harry groaned at the thought of blowing his aunt up, even after finding out he was a wizard. Why did he have such little control over his emotions?
‘Now, while those who master sorcery are far and few between, it was not always this way. Wizardry and sorcery were two options in the world at one time, both equally respectable and everyone seemed to either accept one or the other. As time went on, sorcery was used in Muggle battles, causing the belief that it was in fact a form of Dark Arts. It was soon shunned from our world and those who practiced it did so in secret, slowly developing their powers at their own pace, some becoming far more powerful then simple wizards. For nearly two hundred years, sorcerers were thought to have died off, until a very famous man revealed himself and his abilities, not only to our world but to the Muggles as well. Not only did he perform sorcery, but also had mastered his wizarding techniques to almost a flawless art. His influence on history has been great and he will forever be remembered as one of the greatest wizards of his time. Can anyone tell me who this was?
A handful of students raised their arms and Gwendolyn was called upon.
‘That would be Merlin sir,’ she said with a smile and waited for the professor to confirm it.
‘Five points to Gryffindor Miss Chastings. It was Merlin, and he has continued to influence history even nearly nine centuries after his death. His death date is not even completely ascertained, but we must go with the assumption that a sighting does not always mean anything.’
‘How is it that Hogwarts founders can be associated with sorcery if they’re from just before Merlin’s time? You said that there were no sorcerers before Merlin for quite some time,’ a girl asked from behind Harry, and he turned to see Lily looking up at the professor expectantly.
‘Very observant Miss Evans, however not observant enough,’ he told her with a cocked eyebrow. ‘I said that sorcery was believed to be extinguished, but that was not the case as Merlin proves. Sorcery, unlike wizardry, has been found to be hereditary, leaving the obvious conclusion that there have always been sorcerers and that they were hidden.
‘And you’re saying that the founders were sorcerers?’ Lily inquired with genuine interest, and most students looked awed by the idea.
‘It’s actually not known for certain, although many believe it to be the case. Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin have always been known to be the most powerful of the four, and yet it is both Godric and Helga Hufflepuff who are remembered for their interesting show of wandless magic. Nothing spectacular, but impressive nonetheless.’
Harry made sure to write all of this down, as he was sure that Hermione would want to read it as soon as he got back. He figured that professor Black would not have taught them this.
‘Now, with what we know about sorcery, it only makes sense that as families either grew or ended down the line, so would that sort of magic. Over the years, as I just informed you, all but one Sorcerer was killed, leaving Merlin to be the last of his kind. This of course means that the only sorcerers to ever come after him would be his blood relatives. As it was, Merlin did not like the idea of sorcerers being thought of as evil, and therefore placed a curse on his bloodline.’ Gasps filled the classroom as students stared disbelievingly at their professor.
‘He did not want for traitors to the dark side to tarnish the reputation that he had worked so hard to cleanse, and therefore created the Sorcerer’s curse. No one is certain of what this curse was, making it completely irreversible, and chances are that only a sorcerer could reverse it. Once cast, the curse prevented the magic to pass on to anyone until the present sorcerer left the world of the living.’
‘Do you mean that Merlin actually prevented his son from being magical?’ Lily asked incredulous.
‘No, not quite. He simply prevented his being a sorcerer. His son was in fact a very talented wizard, but he did die before his father, never getting the gift he had hoped for. Luckily, he had two sons to hopefully grow up to take their grandfather’s curse when he died. This is exactly what happened, and Merlin’s basic abilities were transferred to his youngest living heir. Unfortunately a problem arose as his grandsons were twins, causing them both to become sorcerers and effectively doubling their numbers. Merlin had not taken this into account and his curse went on after he died, but unfortunately their was no longer only one sorcerer to prevent the darkness from taking over.’
‘One of these brothers is the only current one alive. Can anyone tell me who this is?’
‘Nicholas Flamel of course,’ James said like it was common knowledge, and Harry shuddered at the thought of the Philosopher’s stone.
‘One of history’s largest dilemmas occurred when sorcerer Flamel procured the philosopher’s stone, thus granting both he and his brother with eternal life. To the wizarding world, this meant that they would never see a new sorcerer again as neither of them would be able to pass on their gift, being immortal. Tragedy hit our world when Nicholas’ twin turned to the Dark Arts and decided to express his hatred for impure bloodlines. He dropped his name and created one that he hoped would embody fear. Can anyone tell me who this was?’
‘Grindelwal, sir.’ This time it was Harry who answered, recalling the name of the evil Sorcerer who had been defeated by none other than Dumbledore.
‘Yes, Mister Portus, Grindelwal. Now, to the wizarding world it seemed obvious that with his new affinity for the Dark Arts, Grindelwal would no longer be in contact with his brother and thus be cut off from the philosopher’s stone and his immortality. Unfortunately, what no one knew was that the dark Sorcerer was extremely charming and that his brother did have a soft spot for his twin. Flamel foolishly gave his brother more than enough elixir of life to last him another century. When he was finally defeated by our own Headmaster, some thirty years ago, he had been the only one in his line, not having produced an heir because he knew he would live forever. Ultimately, his arrogance left our world once more with but one Sorcerer. And it appears that Nicholas will not be dying anytime soon, but that if one day he does, he has nearly three centuries worth of heirs to ensure the curse continues.’
Having finished the brief history on Sorcerers, professor Prynell allowed his students several moments to finish their notes and ask any questions before moving on.
‘Now we will discuss something more relevant to our everyday lives. As we as wizards and witches must in fact channel our magic through wands, it is very important that we know which ones suit us and which ones do not. It is widely known that the essence from one magical creature may produce phenomenal results from one person, and ridiculous ones from another. I myself use a wand cored with a Centaur’s tail hair. However, I cannot even cast lumos with a wand powered by Unicorn’s tail hair. While the two are seemingly similar, they create very different results. It is quite common that a person is able to use a family member’s wand, the closer the relation the more effective it will be.’
The professor proceeded to have the class stand in a wide circle around the room and then had them each hand their wand to the person to their left. They were to cast a simple spell and then pass it to the left once more, effectively allowing everyone to see what cores worked well for them. The different cores were labeled on the blackboard, and Harry was pleased to see that he had the only wand made with a Phoenix feather. Among the others were found one Centaur tail hair, several Unicorn tail hair, three Dragon heartstring, four Nymph eyelashes, one Veela hair, and the strangest of all, a wand containing the blood of a Vampire.
Harry felt uncomfortable allowing the entire class to use his wand, but decided that Marc had probably been right in his theory of undetection and passed it to Sirius, while his was passed to Lily, whose went to Remus. Peter got Remus’ and Harry felt sick at the thought of Wormtail using his wand. Then he noticed that James had Wormtail’s and felt even more disgusted.
Harry waited for his turn and then lifted a Hufflepuff’s wand to cast the Fluvius charm. Nothing happened and Harry knew that Veela hair was not a good choice for him. The same thing went for the Centaur tail hair, Nymph eyelashes and unsurprisingly the Vampire blood. Only two other students were able to cast a half decent lumos and alohamora, owing to their aunt and cousin having the same core in their wands.
Something spectacular occurred when Harry was passed a dark mahogany wand and waited his turn. He decided to attempt the Avis charm he had seen Ollivander perform, but when he shouted ‘Avis’, instead of four or five sparrows shooting from the end, an entire flock of eagles burst out and circled the room. The entire class watched in surprise as the professor got rid of them and turned on Harry.
‘I’m assuming a parent has a wand of the same core?’ he asked.
‘I’m not sure sir,’ Harry said foolishly, never having been told what his parents’ wands were made of.
‘What do you mean? Surely they’ve told you,’ professor Prynell pushed. Harry looked around the room in embarrassment before answering as quietly as he could.
‘Actually, I’m afraid I never knew my parents. They were killed before I was a year old,’ he said and looked down to the floor in frustration.
Professor Prynell looked horrified by this revelation and then regret formed as he looked at Harry.
‘Sorry about that Portus, but at least we can find out now.’ He lifted the wand and asked whose it was.
‘Oh that’s mine professor,’ James called from five spots over and smiled at Harry consolingly, just having inadvertently heard about his own death.
‘Well then Mr. Portus, from a spell that powerful, we definitely know that one of your parents’ wands was made from dragon heartstring and was also made of mahogany. For you to have such control with this wand, it indicates that both the core and wand substance are the same.’
Harry nodded and forced a smile onto his face before they continued. He knew what would happen when he got his mother’s wand in three more turns and tried to think of a simple spell that would not attract too much attention. The next three turns went quickly and soon Harry was holding the familiar white wand he had held in one of his nightmares. He waited his turn and then slowly lifted it and pointed it at his father with a grin on his face. If he had to bring attention to himself, he had might as well have fun too.
‘Tarantallegra!’ he shouted and watched as James’ eyes went wide and his legs started dancing wildly. The whole room started laughing and the professor walked over to them with a grin. Harry ended the spell and handed the wand back over to Lily with a smile. ‘I’m assuming that this would be my other parent’s wand material,’ he said with a raised eyebrow at the professor, and received a small nod from the sandy-haired man as he curiously surveyed him and dismissed the class
News of the Defense class had spread through the castle by dinner time, and Harry found himself frustrated by all the pitying looks he got from the students. The one great thing about this time had been that he was not famous. Now he was receiving the same attention and wanted to hide.
He was bothered most when he looked up from his plate to find the Headmaster watching him somberly, obviously having heard the details of the lesson. Harry suddenly realised what he had done. Now Dumbledore knew that James and Lily would die when he was barely a year old, and the wise old man would most likely assume how they died. This was not good. He decided he would talk with him about it during their meeting in two days regarding Occlumency.
Harry tried his best to ignore the pitying glances and curious glares from the students for most of the evening, but found that by eight o’clock in the common room, he could not stand it any longer. If one more person came over to ask how he was doing, he would throw a fit. Instead of snapping at someone like he knew he would be tempted to, Harry collected his things and headed up to his dormitory to collect his invisibility cloak. He thought about asking Marc to come with him, but found that he was busy playing exploding snaps with Sirius and decided to let him have fun while he could.
Harry was soon making his way down the corridors of Hogwarts on the sixth floor and found himself wishing for his Marauders map. He did not know the teachers routines in this time, and did not fancy running into professor Sharpbane unprepared, or really even prepared for that matter. After wandering through many of the passageways he had memorized from previous years, Harry ended up outside the room used to guard the philosopher’s stone.
This region of the castle was not forbidden in this time, yet Harry found that it was extremely dark and that cobwebs and thick layers of dust lined the walls and ceiling as though it had been long abandoned. He started to make his way back out of the wing, when something in the farthest corner caught his eye. A large ornate archway shimmered briefly in a light that Harry could not find. Why the bronze decor had shimmered, he could not tell, but as he grew closer to it, Harry could see all of the house animals emblazoned around the dark door. The thick brown door had been neatly carved and blended well with the wall it was set in, making it nearly invisible to passers by.
Harry figured it would be locked and abandoned but figured that a simple alohamora could not hurt. He quickly muttered the spell and was surprised to hear a soft click as the door was unlocked. He looked around to ensure that he was alone before reaching out and pushing the heavy door open with his shoulder. What he found on the other side was remarkable.
Harry closed the door behind him and turned back around to face the musty room before him. Rows and rows of dusty volumes lined shelves down the edges and outer walls of the enormous room, and Harry decided that it must have once served as the castle’s library. There were even more texts in this room than the actual library, something that Madam Pince would probably be quite offended by.
Harry stepped further into the room, glancing around the shelves and looking at the four fair sized tables, each to a quarter of the library. Four long windows lined the farthest wall, but were lined with years of dust and grime, only permitting slivers of light to enter the dark area. Four large fire grates occupied each corner of the room, one behind each table and Harry walked closer to each of them to realise that they all had a house animal on them.
The most spectacular thing of all, was the presence of four life-size portraits hanging on the walls behind each desk, each depicting one of the schools Founders. Harry stared in amazement at the forms of Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff. He could not be certain but he truly thought he had found what must have once been the study area of the founders. The place where they came to grade assignments and possibly relax among each others company.
Harry walked around the room slowly, taking in as much of the details as he could, in case he was never able to find the room again. He read the titles on the spines of several books along the shelves, and came to understand that each section had been the private stores of the founders. Rowena’s books focused on Arithmancy and Transfiguration, while Godric’s leaned more towards the Defense and Charms topics. Salazar's had a wide variety of both Defense and the Dark Arts and Harry found that many of the books present would not even be found in Madam Pince’s restriction section. Oddly enough, Helga’s titles concentrated on Potions and Divination, leading Harry to believe that she may have possessed the sight.
After having heard the sorting song this year, Harry was unsurprised to find that Godric and Salazar’s desks were located next to one another, as were Helga and Rowena’s. As he stepped closer to examine the portrait of his house’s founder, Harry’s heart almost stopped when he realised what was etched on the wall between Godric’s and Salazar’s portraits. Hundred’s of names were clumped on the wall, all connected by lines of different lengths and widths. He was staring at Gryffindor’s family tree.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to think for a moment. Did he want to know? Would it really matter if he saw who Godric’s heir was? Chances were that it would not be him. There were hundreds of students at Hogwarts, and it could just as likely be any one of them. He sighed and gave a small laugh. Of course it would be him. How could he think otherwise? He opened his eyes and looked up at the top, to the bold crimson lettering labeled Godric Gryffindor. All of the other names below the founder were in black, save for one he could see at the far left bottom in the corner of his eye. He assumed that that would be the present heir. Underneath Godric’s name it indicated he had only two children; one son and one daughter. His son had two daughters and effectively ended the Gryffindor name after only two generations.
He was saddened to see that one of the lines ended abruptly near the bottom at the name Charles McKinnon. He knew that that family had been cleared from existence several weeks ago and tried not to think of it as he looked to the far left of the chart for Gryffindor’s daughter. Emmeline Gryffindor had instantly married a pureblood wizard and that family name traveled the longest, for ten generations down to the current heir. Harry blinked a few times in disbelief at the crimson name in front of him. Frank Longbottom. That meant that in his time, Neville would surely be the new heir.
What? How could that be? Harry sighed in relief that it was not him, but also felt bothered that it was Neville. The boy who could barely cast a spell, and who nobody understood why he was placed in Gryffindor house. Well now Harry had the answer.
Trying to clear his mind of this huge development, Harry moved on to Slytherin’s family tree and found that he too, had only one son and one daughter. Unlike Godric, Salazar’s son was fortunate enough to have a son followed by eight more generations of males to carry on his name.
Unfortunately it ended there with a daughter who married a Muggle by the name of Riddle. Harry glared at the name connected to this couple. Tom Riddle. Even looking at Voldemort’s name made him want to scream and he felt that he would have blasted the name off the wall, the way Sirius’ mother had done to Sirius’ name on their family tree, but he calmed slightly at noticing Riddle’s name was in black.
Confused, he quickly went up to Salazar’s other child, and found with shock that the daughter had also instantly married a pure blood wizard. Harry tried to blink a few times and ensure that he was seeing things correctly. Apparently this couple had had a son named Jonathon whose name was connected by a purple line to the other single granddaughter of Godric Gryffindor.
If this was not surprise enough, Harry’s jaw dropped when he followed this line down six more generations to the name written in emerald green, and Slytherin’s present heir. James Potter.
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