1,035This chapter was edited by Gladiusx.
Wednesday, 1st of September 1993
Potter Manor
Harry stepped out of the shower and wiped away the fog on the large mirror in his bathroom. The young wizard stood in front of the mirror, the soft glow of morning light filtering through the window and casting a golden hue over his skin. He ran a hand through his damp hair, slicking it back to nearly his neck, only for it to bounce back into a messy crow's nest. Harry could easily will it to be silky smooth, but he liked it as it was; it reminded him of photos he saw of his father.
He found himself inspecting the figure staring back at him through the silver glass with an intensity that mirrored his training regimen—focused, relentless, and disciplined. The last month had been brutal, and Harry had pushed his body to the limit all over again, just as he did at the start of summer. Gone was the skin and bones figure that woke up from the ritual, and in his place was a body fit for a warrior.
The scar that marked him since he was merely a toddler had all but faded. Under the messy mop of hair hid a pair of bright green eyes that reminded him of Cersei Lannister more than anything, and further down was his clean-shaven face. The first signs of a beard had arrived earlier than Harry expected, but considering that the rituals did age his body, it shouldn't have come as such a surprise. While Jon Snow would certainly approve of a thick beard that would make any Northman proud, it would look incredibly weird on a thirteen-year-old going to school.
Harry did not recall a single student, even those in the upper years, sporting anything more than a lazy stubble that would have McGonagall rebuking them and sending them to the lavatories for a shave. Thankfully, he did not even need to shave, as his shape-shifting powers took care of that slight inconvenience.
The rest of his body was no less impressive; the thin layer of fat just beneath the skin barely left anything to the imagination, and he looked like one of those male underwear models that attracted Aunt Petunia's gaze on the telly, if far younger. A swimmer's build was what Chiara called it, and Harry agreed; unlike his previous plan to build his body like the typical Northman, his powers of metamorphing made it unneeded as he simply needed a strong and healthy base. Then, he could easily shift his bones, muscles, tendons, and other parts to whatever size or mass he needed.
His lean, muscled frame shifted slightly as he rolled his broad shoulders, the motion bringing his physique to life. Ah, what did Cinder shamelessly describe it as?
A juicy torso tapering into a narrow waist, the V-shaped definition of his obliques accentuating the eight-pack on his abdomen that looked like he could grate cheese on. His corded arms rested at his sides, with thick and sinewy forearms that ended in large, calloused hands. He flexed a fist, watching his forearm tighten, veins tracing a path up toward his bulging biceps, while his grip sent a popping sound as his fingers cracked. Ahh, how those powerful hands would feel on my–
"The little minx and her mental narrations." Harry grumbled out loud as he ignored the fae whispering in his ears. At least there was a limit to her telepathy so she would not be able to annoy him while at school.
Still, she did have a point. Ridges of defined muscle traced down his chest and abdomen, each line a testament to hours spent in that damned pool that Chiara installed in one of the basement rooms. He could have sworn his attendant made the green goo even heavier after every session, yet the werewolf merely smiled innocently when he questioned her.
"You look positively delicious," Cinder's purring in his ears was getting old real fast.
Harry was proud of the fruits of his efforts, but the Fae somehow managed to make him feel dirty for it. The Fae's presence finally disappeared from his mind with a cackle.
"What do you think, Ghost?" He looked inwardly to find his dearest companion huffing before laying down lazily in the godswood, as if saying it wasn't a big deal. The direwolf wasn't wrong, and there was always room for improvement.
And Harry wouldn't have it any other way, for he was not done improving and bettering himself, not by a long shot. How could he ever be satisfied after witnessing the sheer display of power that Albus Dumbledore showed him nearly ten days ago? Perhaps there was no true need for him to desire so much power… if it were not for Voldemort's relentless desire to snuff his life. Nevertheless, Jon was positive that even without the shadow of the mad man hanging over his head, he would have relished in the pursuit of power.
He stared at his reflection for another minute; he might have worked diligently in building his body, yet that hardly made him a good wizard. Perfecting his physique was but the start and a means to an end; Ted was right about the three aspects that incorporated a wizard's power. The body was the easiest to develop, as it required naught but discipline and a good diet, yet one must never grow complacent in its maintenance. Even those not blessed with physical talents could compensate through the use of rituals and potions. His powers would help, but Harry was already planning how to continue his training in Hogwarts.
The school would provide him with far more than a simple magical education, yet that was Harry's most important priority: To learn everything that the magical world offered! Exploring the ancient castle, flying over the lake and the forest, challenging himself against the brightest minds Magical Britain had to offer… the mere thought set his blood rushing in excitement!
Harry grabbed his wand from the shelf; there was still one last thing he wanted to accomplish before school, a matter that he had worked on daily along with his magical practice. Focusing on that feeling of excitement and joy about returning to his home away from home, Harry flicked his wand and muttered:
"Expecto Patronum."
The ethereal form of Ghost erupted from the end of his Weirwood wand; his faithful companion bounded around his large bathroom and stopped by the open window, his large red eyes gazing at the morning sun.
"Good to have you along, Ghost."
The Patronus turned to him, and Harry could see the intelligence behind those red eyes. Ghost howled silently before dissipating, wisps of starlight slowly disintegrating in his wake. Harry inspected his wand, glad the charm finally worked; it was the same as always, bone-white from tip to handle, and felt the same even - placid and calm yet hiding a vicious brutality just waiting to be unleashed.
Shaking his head, the young wizard finished drying himself before returning to his room. There, he changed into his clothes, making sure a certain ruby-encrusted bracelet was secured around his wrist, and checked that his new three-compartment trunk was packed before levitating it behind him as he made his way to the dining room.
"Master Harry! Good morning."
"Morning, Dobby." Harry grabbed a seat at the table, and the elf swiftly placed a full English breakfast for him along with a pot of tea. "I take it Chiara has already gone to work?"
"Yes, Master Harry. Ms Kira wishes you the best and asks you not to be such a 'magnet for troublesome birds'." The elf cocked his head as Harry grimaced. "What does that mean, Master Harry?"
"It's nothing," He hurriedly ate his meal, trying not to think about what his girlfriend had done during the party; Chiara could be quite headstrong when she wanted to. "Where's Cinder?"
"Morning~"
Speak of the devil, and it lands on your shoulder… literally. "What's with the new look?"
Cinder was tiny, the size of a fairy. She had a toothy grin that Harry could tell did not reach her eyes. "Oh, just trying something new, that's all."
"Ms Cinder lost a bet to Bell when we finished the first batch of–"
"Dobby!" The fiery Fae grumbled, yet with her tiny size, it sounded far cuter than her usual sensual self. "One more word, and I promise you will not be getting a whiff of my project, let alone a taste."
The house elf instantly went silent before popping away, causing Harry to raise an eyebrow as the tiny fae floated towards a plate of treacle tart pie. He shrugged as he opened the Daily Prophet and scanned the pages for any interesting articles; the only thing that caught his attention was an article by the now familiar Elara Evergreen, who had made a name for herself to rival Rita Skeeter, about the minister discussing Umbridge's employment of dementors, and reminding the public that it was approved by the Mot.
As per the agreement of many prominent families and department heads of the ministry, Hogsmeade shall play host to the dementors of Azkaban as further protection from Sirius Black. Harry frowned as he read it again, and focused between the lines. It appeared Fudge was already playing the deflection game, just in case something happened with the dementors. The Wizengamot might have had final say on the deployment of dementors, yet it was Umbridge that retained full control of them, something that caused no amount of ill-will against her from the DMLE and other people of note.
Apparently, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister still got in trouble for employing Hit Wizards without going through the official channels. The article noted that Umbridge had been banned by the Director of the DMLE from employing any Law Enforcement as her personal bodyguards. Yet Umbridge was still seen shadowed by at least two dementors at all times, as well as some wizards that the article suggested were privately hired enforcers; another matter that was frowned upon as the woman allowed such unscrupulous wizards on ministry grounds.
Harry shook his head at how the toady woman wasted gold and political influence to hire what sounded like Sellwands simply to spite Amelia Bones. Fudge was far more cunning than the woman as he clearly used her as his personal attack dog yet kept her dealings and methods separate from himself just in case things went south. Harry doubted a smarter wizard would believe such shite, considering he still kept her as his Senior Undersecretary. Yet from his experience in the wizarding world, smarts seemed like a luxury.
He folded the paper and placed it away before turning to the fiery Fae.
"So, how goes your wine project?"
"Well enough," Cinder replied between bites, yet her face lit up in excitement. "Weirwood sap is way too useful. A bit dangerous too, even for me, but its benefits far outstrip the drawbacks."
"Oh? Such as?"
"Well, you already know how useful it is as a binding agent in the ritual, but I would not recommend ingesting it raw." The fae's face crunched in distaste before digging back into the pie, her muffled voice continuing. "It really opens your mind to things, if you know what I mean. I was never much of a tree gal, not into nature at all unless it had to do with fire, metals, and earth. But drinking some of that sap made me more… flexible? Open-minded? Anyway, it still caused me to be sick for a week. It's probably poisonous to normal humans."
Weirwood sap being poisonous was common knowledge to Jon. "I didn't know fae could get sick?"
"Exactly!" Cinder crawled out of the pie with her mouth full of tart, yet eyes full of tears. "I never got sick before, and I thought I was dying!"
Harry snorted before returning to his meal, shovelling as many fried eggs and sausages into his mouth as fast as politeness dictates, though with only Cinder for company, he did not really care about it; glancing at the fae, she was like a rat digging into the pie's crust while endlessly eating it. He felt a shiver as he realised if he didn't finish soon, there would be no treacle tart until dinner!
"H-Hey, I was not finished yet!" The fae squeaked as Harry finished the last bit of beans on toast before grabbing the pie and started eating with the fae still inside, hurriedly crawling away until she jumped in the air. Her little body was ablaze as she wiped away any remaining crust. "Such a glutton!"
Harry swallowed the last of the pie before giving a satisfied burp, "Like you're one to talk. I would think with your size, your appetite would shrink."
"How dare you insinuate a lady is a glutton?!"
"Lady? Where? Ah, there she is. How're you doing, Bell?"
The little fairy that had sneaked into his pocket so long ago floated from the window with a yawn before beaming as she heard his greeting. "Nice!"
She still seemed to only speak in short sentences or single words, but that was still impressive, considering fairies normally did not speak at all.
"Alright then," Harry stood from his seat, grabbed the cup of steaming hot tea and gulped it all in one go before turning to his three pixies, Dobby having popped back in to clean up. "I will leave the manor in your hands. I do not want to get a letter from Chiara about you making trouble for her."
"Aye, aye, sir!" Cinder mock saluted as she floated to a fruit bowl and grabbed a grape as large as her head. "Not like we ever made any trouble by ourselves, you know. Why, even ask your headmaster; I was the epitome of politeness with him."
Harry grimaced as, while that was true, Dumbledore still left his manor with his hair and beard a curious shade of orange. Nevertheless, if the powerful old warlock did not mention it, then surely he found it a good jest. Walking to the open window and whistling for Hedwig, his owl streaked by before flying north; she hated being stuck on the Express.
Giving one final nod at his three minions, Harry pointed his wand at his trunk and had it follow him to the fireplace.
"Be safe now, lad. Back in my day, we did not have a fancy train to take us to school." Henry nodded to him sagely from his portrait, "A good old carriage dragged by a couple of thestrals that flew us to school. Ah, the fun we had in those few hours, especially if you had a couple of birds for the ride."
Harry snickered at his ancestor's wiggling eyebrows before throwing a pinch of powder into the fire, turning it green. He cleared his throat as this next bit needed for him to be extra clear, "King's Cross Station." The floo chimed once. "Platform nine and three quarters."
Another chime, this one having a finality to it, and Harry nodded to Henry one last time before dragging his trunk with him into the flames. The ministry had only just connected the floo network to the platform after many complaints from magical families. Harry might have had something to do with it when he offhandedly mentioned to Evergreen how safer and convenient it would be for the option to be available. Astoria and Daphne had requested an interview on behalf of their cousin when he was with them in the Alley last week, and Harry obliged.
With her tall stature, dark hair and green eyes, Elara looked like an older Daphne, complete with that knowing grin the Greengrass girl always sported like she was privy to a joke none knew. Nevertheless, the next day's Daily Prophet had him on the front page stating the need for a floo connection to the train station. Four days later, and the ministry announced its installation.
A few seconds later, Harry found himself stepping out into the crowded platform; a glance at the clock showed he still had forty-five minutes until departure. Harry could have sworn the train was much longer than usual. He curiously watched several wizards levitating crates and other cargo into the last compartment.
"Harry, over here, mate!"
He turned at the sound to find Dean Thomas waving at him with an older woman beside him.
"Good morning, Dean." Harry walked over to greet them, shaking his fellow Gryffindor's hand and noticing that the Westham fan had grown quite a few inches, nearly the same height as him. "How're things?"
"Good, good. This is my mother, Brigitte Thomas."
"How do you do, Mr Potter? I believe you are a friend of my son."
Harry nodded and inspected the woman, who did not particularly look like her son. With her caramel-coloured hair, pale skin, and honey-brown eyes, she contrasted with Dean's dark complexion, yet he could see the similarities in the cheekbones, the nose, the shape of the ears, and even their smiles looked similar; almost cocky, almost a smirk, but good-natured nevertheless.
"Yes, Mrs Thomas. I've known Dean since we started school. So, what are you doing out here near the fireplaces?"
"We're waiting on someone," Dean mentioned awkwardly, and Harry noticed that his mother's smile seemed stiff. "He mentioned he had someone to introduce us to. Oh, speak of the devil, there he is."
The fireplace behind them erupted in green flames, and out came Tariq Shafiq, followed by the familiar form of the tall, dark-skinned Auror who visited his manor earlier - only he was dressed in casual robes and had a golden hoop on his left ear. A gasp of surprise came from Mrs Thomas as she stared in shock at the Auror, and Harry found himself comparing Dean's features with Kingsley Shacklebolt and found them similar. Too similar.
"Harry Potter. A pleasure to meet you again."
"Auror Shacklebolt, the pleasure is all mine." Harry shook the man's hand and then nodded at his other acquaintance. "Good to meet you again, Rick."
"Bradley?" Mrs Thomas blurted out as she raised her hands to her mouth before shaking her head sadly. "No, you're not him, aren't you?"
"I'm afraid not, Mrs Thomas. Bradley was my older brother, and I see now that young Tariq was not pulling the wool over my eyes." The tall Auror stood before Dean, a wistful smile on his face. "It's good to see that his blood still lives on."
Harry shifted awkwardly at the sudden emotional scene; Dean and his mother looked incredibly happy, yet their joy quickly wilted when they learned Bradley Shacklebolt perished in the war. Kingsley had just finished Hogwarts when he found himself the last of his family and did not at all know about his brother's secret family.
"So, this is what you meant when you mentioned investing in Dean?" Harry asked Tariq as they left the mother and son with their long-lost relative and stood a short distance away on the platform - Harry was waiting for the rest of his friends, while Rick was expected to help with security as a prefect. He couldn't help but feel happy for his schoolmate and idly wondered if Hermione would one day discover her magical family the same way.
"Indeed, with this, I have a powerful figure in the DMLE as a friend, as well as a strong connection in Hogwarts once I graduate. While Kingsley has a daughter that will enrol next year, his wife died from the dragon pox, and he seems unwilling to remarry. Now, he has another option to revive his nearly dead house; they are similar to my own house in that they moved here at the same time from abroad, yet they were not nearly as fortunate as us. It's up to them how they do it, but I am certain I will benefit regardless."
The Egyptian did not sound as enthused as his words would suggest, and Harry grinned as he realised why.
"You don't really care about any of that shite, do you?" The older boy looked at him askance, only to sigh.
"Perhaps at the start, I convinced myself that taking precious time to look after a snot-nosed lion and ingratiate myself to an important figure in the DMLE was worth it all… but no, I think I'm just happy I reunited a family long thought lost together again."
"Good deed of the day?"
"More like of the year."
They chuckled along before their discussion shifted to their respective summers, Rick having heard from his cousin about Harry and the gang, as he called them, becoming regulars in her little coffee shop. Some ribbing about them being all girls was mentioned which Harry retaliated with questions regarding Tariq's marriage prospects. The Egyptian instantly clammed up as he awkwardly changed the subject to quidditch.
Soon, boarding call was announced, and everyone started loading, but before Harry could find a compartment, they were interrupted by a familiar yet not-at-all-welcoming voice.
"Mr Potter. Mr Shafiq."
He turned to see the looming figure of Severus Snape standing nearby, his dark eyes inspecting the crowd as they quickly got on the train. The man looked… different. Still in his dark robes, yet his normally sallow and scowling face looked more… at ease? It certainly seemed healthier, as if the old bat had been forced to stay in the sun for longer than two minutes a day. And he no longer seemed as if someone had kicked his cat yesterday.
"Professor Snape," Rick, ever the charming socialite, greeted the Potions Master politely. "I was told that a teacher would escort the students for this particular voyage. I was under the impression that the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher would be our chaperone?"
Snape's eyes narrowed imperceptibly; Harry would have missed it if he had not been watching the ornery man intently. "I volunteered to be the escort instead of a man with no experience dealing with students."
Harry nearly snorted, as if Severus Snape knew the first thing about dealing with children. Nevertheless, he maintained a polite silence as the Ravenclaw prefect conversed with the potions master about matters of patrols and whatnot. Almost as if they truly expected Sirius Black to spring up on the train. Soon, Rick excused himself as he had to meet with the rest of the prefects and Head Boy and Girl before the train departed, leaving him alone with Snape.
"Mr Potter," the man remained as still a statue as his eyes seemed to gaze around the platform yet did not leave him out of his vision. Harry noticed he was nearly as tall as the Potions Master now. "I see you have done well for yourself this summer. Coming of Age ritual? I did not think you had access to such magicks."
"Something like that. It's supposed to be the most common ritual for young witches and wizards. I'm surprised the Hogwarts curriculum never mentioned it nor any rituals for that matter."
"It has been deemed unnecessary and unsafe by certain people in power, and thus, access to knowledge of rituals and similar magic has been confined to those taking Advanced Arithmancy, Astronomy, and the restricted section of the library. It was the best compromise Dumbledore could achieve at the overwhelming pressure following the war." Harry raised an eyebrow, Snape was far too helpful compared to normal. Still, he noted that no magical raised witch or wizard would need such knowledge from Hogwarts; their families should know all about them. "Although, I get the feeling you have indulged in rituals a bit more than most. No one would grow nearly a foot over two or three months without the help of certain magicks - especially as it was not just your body that grew."
It did not surprise Harry that the man who coveted the Defence Against the Dark Arts position the most would be knowledgeable about rituals, yet Harry had no wish to enlighten the man any more than politeness dictated. He simply hummed noncommittally, and the Potions Master let the matter go. Harry's gaze fell over the platform in search of his friends; he saw Hermione arriving with Mafalda, yet it was frowned upon that older students stuck around younger students during the train ride to school.
The Hogwarts Express's purpose was not just to transport students to school but also to give them a chance to meet and befriend students their age. It was why Harry had refrained from hurrying to his cute little cousins when they arrived and pinching their cheeks like the adorable dolls that they were; at least Mafalda seemed to have found friends already as he saw her approach them hesitantly. Now, if Edward Bones arrived with the rest of his family, they will have their own clique for the ride.
"Ah, Severus. You are here."
Another familiar voice, this one far more welcoming than the previous one, sounded behind him, and Harry turned to find the beautiful visage of Narcissa Malfoy approaching with a stiff-looking Draco. Harry raised an eyebrow at the blonde boy; something was different about him. He seemed leaner, and there was a slight gauntness to his face that no longer carried its perpetual sneer but instead seemed as unreadable as it was solemn. His back was straight, and his head held high, staring straight ahead.
The way he carried himself spoke of someone who had gone through a gruelling summer, and considering how low House Malfoy had fallen in recent times, Harry wagered that the resourceful Narcissa had seen to it that her son thrived through such adversity. Both mother and son were dressed in mourning black, yet judging by the looks some of the people on the platform threw them, scarcely any people would sympathise with their plight - including him, for the mere thought of Lucius Malfoy's demise brought nothing but joy to his heart. If anyone was deserving to burn in the gluttonous pit that was Cinder's stomach, it would be Lucius Malfoy.
That did not mean he did not feel pity for their situation, and Harry would never forget the kindness and support the Malfoy Matriarch had shown him. It was clear that Draco had changed; the old bravado had faded, leaving someone who understood the weight of his actions. Harry was willing to give the boy a chance; the sins of the father should never be passed down to the son, after all.
"Narcissa," Snape greeted the woman as warmly as the dungeon bat could muster, which was still incredibly jarring for Harry. "Indeed, I am here to watch over the students."
Narcissa Malfoy smiled as she greeted the Potions Master with kindness and warmth that Harry did not expect from the usually cold and reserved woman. Harry wondered if there was a hidden meaning behind Snape's sudden decision to chaperone over a thousand students to school. It had been ten minutes since loading was announced, yet the crowd had barely thinned and Harry remembered that this year would have the most amount of first years in more than a decade.
"It's wonderful to meet you again, Harry. You've grown considerably since we last met." Narcissa finally turned to him, and Harry smiled as he kissed the woman's offered hand, hiding a smirk as Draco shifted uncomfortably.
"The pleasure is all mine, Narcissa." A quick intake of breath from behind him told him that Snape did not approve, but Harry hardly cared about the man - he might seem to have mellowed out slightly for some reason, but that did not at all mean that he would change his attitude. "I wished you would have attended the gathering I planned a few days ago. I was saddened when Hedwig returned with a rejection."
"Sadly, I did not feel it was a good idea for us to make a public appearance yet." Narcissa's smile seemed rather forced as she retracted her hand. She turned to her son then, "Draco, how about you join Harry on the train ride?"
Draco looked like he wanted nothing more than to stay clear away from him, yet he gave a stiff nod before dragging his trunk towards the train. Before Harry could follow him, the blonde woman's hand rested on his shoulder, and he turned to look at her; they were of similar height, though Narcissa still had a couple of inches on him due to the high heels she wore, yet Harry could see the hesitance that quickly morphed into resolve in her eyes.
"Do you remember, Harry, what we last discussed regarding my son?"
A few heartbeats later he nodded, "It will depend on him, Narcissa."
"All I ask is to give him a chance. Draco's friends have shown themselves false, and being alone in Slytherin is a terrible fate for anyone."
"He will not be alone, Narcissa." Snape chose that moment to interject, "I will watch over him as I have always done."
Harry raised an eyebrow, "So it was true that you always played favourites with your students? Why the extra care for Draco? Are you related, perhaps?"
"I am his–" Snape looked like he wanted to say more, but a warning look from Narcissa silenced him. "Regardless, I know better than to inflame any school rivalry. You have already befriended several of my house students, so why not go the extra step?"
The world must be ending if Severus Snape, of all people, was giving him an olive branch; Harry had no idea how to even react to that but settled for a contemplative nod before excusing himself - he barely caught them discussing something about some girl named Merula before Harry entered the train.
.
.
.
"I'm pretty sure Snape is Draco's godfather."
Tracey's conclusion… made sense. A few hours had passed since the train departed, and Harry had made his way to the lounge early on and reserved the same room they got on the trip back a few months ago. He found himself the only one there as the train departed, yet he knew that his friends were mingling with their schoolmates and Harry had told them to join him when they deemed fit.
Soon, they trickled in one by one to spend the second half of the ride with him; Hermione and Mafalda were the first, followed by his cousins, who instantly grabbed the seats beside him. Ginny and her twin brothers came next, though they did not linger for long before moving to the common room for the games but left their sister with them. Luna and Astoria followed soon and quickly struck up a conversation with Ginny, but it was an hour later that Daphne and Tracey entered, both girls looking miffed about something with Daphne holding her cat like a stress ball.
Sooty had jumped from her arms to land on the table and joined Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, in playing with a ball of yarn.
Harry, however, was waiting for his girlfriend, though he suspected Susan wanted some space from him after that little show at the party.
Just remembering it irked him.
A*L*S*M
A few days ago, during the party.
Harry had just finished speaking to Killian Prewett regarding his financial affairs and the possibility of entering his employ, when he returned to the manor for more refreshments, only to hear raised voices in the kitchens. Everyone else was outside as they had set the tables in the gardens. Dobby was busy at the grill as he made a show for his guests.
"…How you got into Harry's good graces. I'm not blind, you know." Susan's usually calm voice sounded uncharacteristically catty, making him pause.
To his surprise, she was speaking with Chiara, of all people.
"Oh? And how do you think that happened, little girl?"
This was the first time he had heard his attendant be so confrontational. They were in the hallway, Susan holding a crate of butterbeer and facing off against the werewolf who held a towel and a tray of fire whiskey for the adult guests.
"Call me what you wish, but it does not deny what you are, werewolf."
"It's hardly a secret, girl. Harry practically told everyone in attendance, even your parents."
"And they are too polite to say what's truly in their mind. How did a werewolf come to be Harry Potter's most trusted attendant? Have you no shame seducing a boy seven years your junior?"
Chiara froze and slowly turned at the red-haired witch with a face full of disbelief, before bursting out in ludicrous laughter. "Are you joking?! You have known Harry Potter long enough to know that he would not allow anyone to control him in any way, and you think that I, the outcast of society, can do what a dozen other witches far more pretty than I am, failed to achieve?"
Susan went silent and awkwardly placed the crate of butterbeer on a table, "Well, when you put it that way… Still, the way Harry trusts you is not normal."
"Let's just say that Mr Potter has an affinity with wolves. Now, Little Girl," Susan scowled at Chiara's condescending tone, "I believe I am owed an apology. What you have accused me of can easily see me thrown in Azkaban, if not outright executed."
The two witches glared at each other, and despite Susan being six years younger, she was just as tall as Chiara. Harry coughed then and announced his presence.
"Harry!" Susan looked at him in worry, "How long have you been there?"
"This is my house, Suzie. I am aware of anything that happens in it." Harry tried to add some levity to his tone as he approached his girlfriend and patted her shoulder. "Now, I really do not wish to appear that I am taking sides, but I do believe Chiara is right; You stepped out of line, and she is owed an apology."
Susan certainly looked like she did not at all agree, yet she still nodded and apologised to his attendant. But her words lacked sincerity.
A*L*S*M
Envy was an ugly thing. Harry found himself looking at Susan critically–yes, she was beautiful, smart, and powerful for her age, but he hadn't seen a trace of that aggressiveness before. What does he truly know about his girlfriend? Truth be told, Harry had no idea what exactly the dynamic between girlfriend and boyfriend ought to be, but insulting his staff was definitely not part of it.
It also stank of insecurity. He had expected such a stunt from Tracey or even Hermione, yet they, along with Daphne and Astoria, got along admirably with Chiara - at least, he heard no complaints nor did he see any trouble between them. Harry did not expect his girlfriend to be so bold as to raise the matter with Chiara instead of… speaking to him.
Worse was when they learned she was a werewolf. Many of his older guests maintained a polite demeanour, especially with Dumbledore personally vouching for Chiara; yet Harry could tell they were wary at best or disgusted at worst. There were good reasons why werewolves were treated as lepers at best and savage monsters at worst, but to see the distrust in person was jarring.
It did not stop him from being friendly and respectful to his guests, however; Chiara had warned him of the reactions and told him that the best way to overcome such barriers was by showing them that she was no different from them, or even better at times. Who was he to feel outraged on behalf of someone who desires no such pity?
Regardless, Chiara had been utterly unamused at the idea of her seducing him, which Harry found ridiculous considering how little the woman reacted to him, regardless of what form he took - he was starting to think she was a witch's witch or something.
Women… Harry would never claim to have understood them, and most likely, he never would.
In the end, Susan never showed up, and they were already an hour away from Hogwarts. A part of Harry wasn't even sure if they were boyfriend and girlfriend anymore. Even if they were, was it worth it? If Susan did this now, what manner of trouble would she find out of thin air next?
Still, it felt wrong to end things without speaking to Susan again. But it was hard to speak to a person who was actively avoiding him.
Soon, the idle talk around their table evolved to wondering what Snape was doing on the train, and Harry recalled his earlier meeting with him.
Which brought them to Tracey's statement, "How can you be so sure?"
"What other reason would a teacher care so much for an above-average student?" The blonde girl idly tossed a line of yarn at the table for the two cats to catch before dragging it back to her and tossing it again. "Even if it had to do with sucking up to Malfoy senior, with him dead, Snape has no reason to stick to Draco any longer than necessary."
"I don't know, Trace." Daphne chimed in before wiggling her eyebrows, "Have you seen him kissing up to Narcissa Malfoy? That woman can turn heads, if you know what I mean. She must have him dancing on the palm of her hands or something."
"No, I don't think so." Harry quickly interjected, surprising the girls. "I know Mrs Malfoy well, and she is too prideful to stoop to that level. I think you are right, Tracey. Snape did hint at something like that, and it does make sense why he would be here today and why Narcissa was glad to find him."
"But wouldn't that be a conflict of interest?" Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione, "having your godfather be in such a position of power… Do you think that's why Snape is such a…"
Tracey and Daphne chortled in unison, "That he is such an unfair bastard to you all? Naw, I'm pretty sure he just hates kids."
"And yet he works in a school?!" Maddie looked affronted, causing them to shrug. "Is this normal?"
"He is still one of the finest Potion Masters in Britain." Surprisingly, it was Hestia who said that in her impassive tone. "Daddy mentioned he had tried to hire him for that project of yours, Harry. Snape ended up refusing, though I don't know why."
"I see," That would have been inconvenient to have his least favourite teacher so involved in his business ventures. Reginald had told him he had secured the talents of one of Britain's finest potion masters for the job. Some old bloke called Loras or Maurice Bugthorn or something who needed some spending money. "Regardless, there is no denying Snape's magical prowess. If there is any trouble on board, I doubt any other wizard would do a better job keeping the students safe. Especially if Draco really is his godson."
The girls nodded along, and Harry wondered if the bond between godfather and godson was indeed so strong. Jon likened it to that of a foster parent and their wards, and considering how Robert's Rebellion started, he could sort of understand the power of such a bond.
And yet, Sirius Black was his godfather, and while Harry had not forgotten Henry's words, the escaped convict never approached him, despite Henry's confidence that he would; Potter Manor was where his godfather lived in the later years of his school life. Harry shook his head inwardly; it did not matter now. Even if Sirius Black decided to visit while he was in school, he would never make it past the castle's protections.
"So, Tracey," The blonde girl hummed as she threw away the yarn in boredom allowing the cats to play with it, and grabbed a copy of the Daily Prophet, her sister reading over her shoulder. "I feel like something had upset you and Daphne when you came in. Is anyone bothering you, girls? I wouldn't mind having a talk with them."
Tracey blushed prettily while Daphne giggled at his grin and flexing of his muscled arm, but the blonde girl coughed lightly. "It's nothing like that, just… We were sitting with the rest of our housemates in one of the compartments, and we just couldn't stand the show."
"What show?" Hermione tilted her head.
"The 'Nott Draco's friend anymore' show." Daphne spat venomously. "That bastard Theodore had practically subverted Malfoy's so-called friends. Don't get me wrong, Draco was always a berk, but at least he was smart enough not to annoy us with his games and had some class behind his berkiness. Now that House Malfoy's name has fallen to the dirt, all his friends abandoned him and threw their lot behind Nott, who decided to take that chance to humiliate Draco as much as possible. Even bloody Pansy was laughing with Nott and sat close to him; you saw how much she stuck to Draco like a leech, yet to so easily abandon him?"
"Ah, I did invite Draco here, but he refused." Harry shook his head sadly; he tried, at least for Narcissa's sake. Yet his former rival had too much pride to accept what he probably deemed as a pittance secured by his mother. Clearly, Draco had grown out of his previous childish self, as he displayed genuine politeness even towards Hermione when they stumbled onto each other in the train's corridors.
But it did not change the fact that Malfoy refused Harry's offered hand. A part of him found it ironic, considering he had refused to shake Draco's hand–which had heralded the start of their rivalry on that first train ride.
"We had already excused ourselves when every other sentence included a barb thrown at Draco." Tracey shrugged, "Honestly, I don't particularly care about Malfoy, but I still think it's in bad taste to beat the bloke when he is down and when nearly all your housemates join in on the diatribe…"
Tracey shook her head and shrugged again, allowing Daphne to continue.
"He is also too prideful to leave the compartment or show any weakness, and the insults were all backhanded and subtle, as none really wanted to risk a duel with Draco - I heard he got training over the summer as well."
"That's just cruel!" Astoria growled, "And Snape let that be?"
"Oh, sweetie, imagine if your mother came to school just so she can fight your fights," Harry smirked at the dark-haired hellion, who blanched. "Thought so."
"Is it normal for those in Slytherin to bully others like that?" Mafalda asked in a quiet voice.
"Not particularly, keep in mind that Draco himself was quite the bully," Harry replied, and Hermione nodded stiffly. "Some may say he is getting his comeuppance, but I think the worst thing about this matter is that it's his friends who betrayed him so easily when they're all no better."
"And we have our fair share of bullies in Ravenclaw, so it's not something unique to Slytherin," Astoria concluded sagely, glancing at Luna, who lowered her head slightly; Ginny noticed, and her eyes went wide.
"What are you talking about?"
"Well…" As Astoria, Ginny, and Luna went into their own conversation, Harry turned to the window, noticing that the sun was steadily setting. The train was on a bridge over a rocky canyon that he knew was close to Hogsmeade.
"We should change to our uniforms. I wager we have less than half an hour before we arrive."
Harry swiftly excused himself to allow them privacy. Once he exited the lounge, however, the train lurched to a stop; it was clearly unintended as the jarring sound of steel clamping on steel screeched loudly while the entire train shook. Some students poked their heads out of the lounges, while many shouts of worry came from the common room. The door to their lounge banged open, and a worried Daphne almost leapt out of it.
"What's happening?"
Harry, however, had his eyes glued inside their lounge, specifically at the window. He pushed past the girl and stared as frost seemed to form on the glass - frost… on the first day of September! The setting sun seemed to have been snuffed out as darkness covered the world, and he could barely see the canyon under the train as a sudden familiar chill descended upon them.
"I-It's t-them a-a-again!" Harry turned to Maddie, grabbing her head, and he instantly understood; Dementors.
He didn't hesitate. Whipping out his wand, Harry focused as hard as he could on the feelings of happiness he experienced this morning, the expectation of going back to Hogwarts to be with his friends and loved ones through thick and thin. Ghost stirred in his mind as Harry muttered the magical words.
"Expecto Patronum!"
I had hoped to write a lot more, but health issues prevented that.
My plan was to include a party POV last chapter to expand more on that little scene that Susan made but my health interrupted that.
Frankly, I could have written two or three more chapters about that drama, but I know many of you are dying to get back to Hogwarts. Suffice it to say, relationships aren't a simple thing and rarely would they last forever; especially between children.
Not saying that Harry and Susan are over or anything, rather, they are having a typical lover's spat.
If you would like to support me, or read five chapters ahead (total of twenty across all of my stories), join me on my Patr(eo)n under the same penname.