Fic: From the Ashes (2/?)
Title: From the Ashes
Authors: Nenya Entwhistle + Yih
Pairing: Not sure.
Genre(s): Adventure/General
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4,616 (9,716 overall)
Summary: AU. Prophecies are only possible futures and in this world Voldemort never went to Godric’s Hollow to kill Harry Potter; instead fifteen years later… Harry is in his fourth year and still alive, but unfortunately so is Voldemort.
Disclaimer: Borrowing from JK Rowling, but she owns all.
Note: This chapter features Draco/Harry interaction. I'm not really sure on which slash pairing I'll be doing. It's all up in the air as of now.
FROM THE ASHES
By Nenya Entwhistle + Yih
2. All Knowledge is Worth Having
It was strange, Harry thought, having Hermione walk him to class instead of the other way around, but she had insisted and he hadn’t had the heart to tell her no. Indeed, it was comforting for him to have her there when he wasn’t at all sure why he was taking this particular class. After all, it would only confirm everyone’s worst fears about him.
“I wish I hadn’t chickened out,” Hermione remarked, smiling at him brightly. “I think you’re dead right about this, about wanting to know everything about something before you judge it. That’s the fair way, isn’t it? And I’m sure nothing that the professor teaches you will be anything alarming, I mean, we’re still at school and all. There are restrictions. It’s probably the best way to learn it, when I think about. Don’t you?”
Harry returned her smile. “You’re really worried, aren’t you?”
“Is it that obvious?” she asked, looking a little put out.
“A little,” he said, “but only because I know you so well.”
“I really do wish I could take the class with you,” she said earnestly.
“I’ll be all right,” he responded. “Besides, you’re really good at Arithmancy and it’d be a pity if you gave that up.”
“But I could have taken it at the other timeslot-”
“And it would have conflicted with another one of your classes,” Harry retorted. “I’ll be fine, Hermione, and you don’t have to worry about me.”
“I’m a worrywart,” she said. “I can’t help it.”
“You better go run to your class or you’re going to be late. I had no idea that this class was so far away. I’ve never even been to this part of the castle before.”
“Are you sure?” Hermione asked, looking quickly at the time. “I don’t mind being late this once.”
Harry stopped walking and reached over to grab her by the shoulders, abruptly turning her around. “I’ll be fine,” he said, nudging her forward. “Now go to your class.”
Hermione looked over her shoulder at him, her face a mix of relief and annoyance. “See you at the library after?”
Harry nodded and waved goodbye at her, watching her until she disappeared around one of the many turns they had taken to get here. After she was gone, Harry sighed and continued up the convoluted pathway, sometimes traveling down in the direction of the dungeon and then conversely back up the stairs. It was a rather indirect and frustrating way to get around, even for Hogwarts.
“So what do we have here,” said a voice that Harry was all too familiar with that immediately set him on edge. It wasn’t that the voice wasn’t pleasant to the ears, it was silky, articulate, and a tad sharp. It was also the voice of Draco Malfoy. “Did you get lost, Potter?”
Harry whirled around and he indeed saw what he was expecting, the too blond, too feminine-looking Malfoy. An insult was at the tip of his tongue, but he held back the urge to say it since it wasn’t what he had been taught at home. Lily would have been very irate at him if he started to pick up any of the Marauders’ habits. Harry just stared at Malfoy instead in his typical fashion and Malfoy glared back at him, his face looking pinched and unattractive.
“As tongue-tied as always I see,” Malfoy declared. “Where’s your mudblood shadow?” he inquired, making an obvious show of looking around everywhere. “Aren’t you two glued to the hip?”
Harry was furious that Malfoy had called Hermione a mudblood and he saw red before he grabbed Malfoy by the front of his robes and slammed him against the wall. “Don’t ever and I mean ever call Hermione that.”
Malfoy stared back at him, his gray eyes gleaming. “What will you do? Curse me? I don’t think you would, Golden Boy.”
It was bitterly ironic to Harry that it was the Slytherins, especially Malfoy that still saw him as the Golden Boy of Gryffindor thanks to his habit of sticking with what Lily had always taught him - to be generous, honorable, and true. Everyone else, even the Hufflepuffs took a wide circle around him. Without Hermione and Neville to a degree, he wouldn’t really have any friends.
“Don’t call her that,” Harry said softly.
“Why do you care?” Malfoy retorted.
Harry didn’t know why they even talked to each other. It was all pointless, really. All they did was argue about things neither of them would ever agree upon. Hermione was one of them and then there was Voldemort and Dumbledore and doing good instead of satisfying what you wanted. They were too different to ever be friends.
“She’s my friend,” Harry said simply. “I stand up for all my friends.”
“Is that so?” Malfoy inquired, looking for some reason serious all of a sudden. “For all your avowed loyalty, your friends do not seem to show you the same. You pick your friends poorly, excluding the muggleborn and the dimwit.”
Harry opened his mouth initially to protest before he shut it. What could he say? Malfoy was right. He did pick his friends poorly. It was plainly obvious, especially when they had abandoned him when he had turned out to be a parselmouth. It still eluded him how he was a parselmouth. He was a Potter and there was no hint of any Slytherin descendents in the paternal line. It couldn’t be from his mum; she was a muggleborn like Hermione. How could he have a trait that was known to be from Salazar Slytherin?
Unless, as he had thought several times, a long, long time ago his maternal line had forgotten it had once been magical.
But could magic stay latent for that long? Lily’s family could trace its muggle lineage for centuries. Or was one muggle a squib? Were several of them? Did they hide that they were from wizarding families? Harry shook his head. There were too many possibilities and yet… his mum was an abnormally strong witch for a muggleborn and yet… so was Hermione. They reminded him a lot of each other, although Hermione was a bit more academically inclined, which was saying a lot.
“Potter,” Malfoy said, startling him from his thoughts, “are you going to stand there and daydream all day? Or are you coming to class?”
Harry stared at Malfoy, thrown off by the somewhat friendly gesture. Malfoy was confusing, one second he was insulting his friends and the next he was reminding him to get to class. If Malfoy had just left him there and Harry ended up being late, that would fit the description of Malfoy being an indisputable arse, but when he acted in this inconcrete manner it was hard to form a solid opinion. Malfoy was probably doing this on purpose to throw him off. Why did Malfoy have to pick on him so much?
“Why do you care?” Harry asked curiously.
“I don’t,” Malfoy stated, not even bothering to look back having already begun walking away.
Harry stared at Malfoy, shaking his head, completely perplexed. He stood there for a few moments before he realized that he was going to be late for class if he didn’t hurry along and that was certainly not going to make a favorable impression on the new professor, considering he was likely another Slytherin. For who else would teach this class? Harry didn’t care if the professor was a Slytherin as long as he was fair. He hoped fervently that this professor would not favor Slytherins over all others just because they were from his house like Snape. It would be nice to be liked or hated because of who he was rather than who they thought he might be.
Harry took out his pocket watch and cursed silently when he saw he really was going to be late unless the class was close. He broke out into a dead out run, which was awkward with robes and to his surprisingly luck the class was just around the corner. He stopped abruptly and walked into the classroom as calmly as he could mustered, though he was breathing a little fast from his panicked, excited rush. As he walked into the room, he noticed immediately that he didn’t know all of them by name, but he did recognize that most of the students were Slytherins. There were also a few Ravenclaws, but there were no Hufflepuffs and definitely no Gryffindors.
The bell rang then, loud and clear, signaling the start of class.
“Take your seats,” said a clear, commanding voice, and as Harry whirled around to see who it was, he was surprised to find the face somewhat familiar even though he did not know who the man was. “And that includes you,” the professor said, looking directly at him.
For first time in two years, he was suddenly not infamous. Did this professor really not know who he was? Harry supposed it was possible. It wasn’t like he would be that infamous outside of Hogwarts, at least he hoped not. Besides, this professor was new and teaching a class that had never before been offered. Maybe Harry could start fresh without his past haunting him as it had recently.
He nodded at the professor and hurried to take his seat, groaning a little when he saw that the only available seat was next to Malfoy. He was surprised it was even available, considering that Malfoy always had one of his two goons sitting with him, but neither Goyle or Crabbe were in the class. That was unexpected, after all, they were Slytherins. Harry took his seat and directed his full attention to the front where he was trying to figure out why this professor looked so familiar.
“I am Professor Black,” the professor began. “I will be teaching you the Theory of Dark Arts and perhaps, if I am able to obtain permission from Headmaster Dumbledore and the Hogwarts Committee, we will try some of the safer spells.”
Of course, it clicked after the introduction who the professor resembled. He had the same black hair and gray eyes that Harry’s godfather had. But who was he to Sirius? Harry didn’t know much about his godfather’s family, which made sense when he had been disowned by his parents. Was Professor Black a cousin of some sort? It seemed rather unlikely that they were unrelated, given how the entire Wizarding World was related to each other in some way or another.
If Harry wanted to look back far enough in the Potter family tree, he could probably find a connection to Malfoy. That thought didn’t particularly please him, but there simply weren’t that many wizards in the world compared to muggles. If it came down to war, Harry was certain the muggles would crush them, magic or no magic. They had technology on their side. It was rather a pity that so many purebloods looked down on muggles. There was a lot of knowledge they could pick up from them.
“Potter,” Malfoy hissed as he jabbed Harry with his wand, “it’s your turn.”
“My turn?” Harry said in confusion and then realized the entire class was looking at him. He flushed and glanced up to see that Professor Black was watching him with steady, unreadable eyes.
“It’s your turn to introduce yourself,” Malfoy said softly, but sharply.
Harry didn’t know if he should stand or not, but he got up from his seat quickly and said, “I’m Harry Potter, uh, 4th year Gryffindor.”
He sat back down immediately and Malfoy rose from his seat, which Harry was glad to see and said, “Draco Malfoy, a 4th year Slytherin.”
And from there, the introductions continued and Harry noticed that there were several 5th years, a couple of 6th years, and even a 7th year. As he had noted at the beginning of class, Slytherins made up the great majority. It should have felt like he was in a snake pit and he should have been felt uncomfortable, but he didn’t. The Gryffindors had made him feel a whole lot worse after… Harry abruptly suppressed the memory.
He had been thinking about that incident far too much lately. It made sense since it had happened at Hogwarts and returning only brought him closer to it. But he was tired of feeling guilty, of being on edge, of having to tread softly. He was not a bad person. He didn’t think anyone who was raised by Lily Potter could be a bad person; she simply wouldn’t allow it.
That didn’t mean he didn’t make mistakes. He wasn’t perfect. He was human.
“Now that we have all introduced ourselves,” Professor Black declared, “I would like to begin by welcoming you to this class. I believe it is important to learn the theory behind the Dark Arts before you pass judgement on it. I will not lecture to you if the Dark Arts is evil or not, nor will I talk about the war that is occuring between the Dark and Light wizards. That is not our concern in this class.
“Our goal in this class is to give you a basic theoretical knowledge of the Dark Arts, what it is and what it does. There are, of course, many spells that are barred from usage, including all spells that are of the Dark Arts. You will learn the theory behind the spells, and you may form your own opinion on if you believe the Ministry of Magic was correct to institute such a ban.
“I believe,” he stated as his eyes swept through the class and settled briefly on Harry before moving along, “we will learn plenty this year from one another and I look forward to it.”
Harry felt tense the second Professor Black had looked at him and he still felt tense after the professor’s gaze had left him. It was strange how the glance had impacted him. It was like being pushed directly at the chest. He was obviously making more out of it than he should, since the professor had clearly looked at everyone around the room, not just him. He wasn’t being singled out.
Professor Black likely had no idea who Harry Potter even was.
At least, that was what Harry hoped.
|-|-|-|-|-|
“How was it?” Hermione whispered fervently, rushing at him and promptly grabbing him by the hand to drag him to their little corner of the library where Madame Pince wouldn’t yell at them from making insufferable noise in what was supposed to be an area of complete silent. “What happened? I’m so curious. I knew I should have taken the class. Who was the professor? I couldn’t find out anything-”
“Slow down,” Harry said, patting her on the shoulder. “One question at a time.”
“Was it interesting?” she inquired.
Harry nodded. “I think I will learn a lot.”
“Who is the professor? Is it someone affiliated to Lord Voldemort?”
Harry shrugged. “I’m not sure. It certainly wasn’t one of the known Death Eaters, but he could very well be one of Lord Voldemort’s followers. His name makes me wonder if…”
“If what?” Hermione asked impatiently, her curiosity not abating at all, instead it was expanding exponentially.
“If he’s related to my godfather.”
“Sirius? Why would you think that?”
“Because,” Harry explained, “his name is Professor Black.”
Hermione’s eyes widened and she got that sparkle of interest in her eyes that she got every time she dragged him to research with her in the stacks far, far back inside the library. They were probably going to research this and he wondered how long it would take. It’s not like he minded. It would be easier looking it up himself and finding the answer without asking Sirius about it. Who knew if it would end up being a sore subject?
“They are probably related,” Hermione declared. “The only way they would not be is if Professor Black was a muggleborn and I somehow doubt that a muggleborn would be teaching Theory of Dark Arts. I might be an intelligent witch, but I have no idea how I would even self-teach myself Dark Arts. At the very least, he has to be a half-blood and more likely than not, he is a pureblood.”
“And if he is…” Harry began and trailed off.
“And if he is,” she repeated, “then he is somehow related to Sirius.”
“I guess that means…”
Hermione already had a wide grin on her face. “Research!”
Harry groaned a little because honestly he didn’t mind that much. It was just that he was used to groaning with Ron when they had used to research together before… Harry shook his head, again refusing to think about it. That was the past and he couldn’t change that. There was no use dredging it up.
“I know just where to start,” Hermione remarked, dragging him to the back of the stacks where some of the oldest books were kept. “I was fascinated by these during first year and I never thought they would actually come in handy, but lo and behold, they have.”
“What are these?” Harry asked, staring dubiously at the ancient Latin that was etched in gold on the leather spines of the books.
“Family trees, of course,” Hermione answered. “Where else do you think we would look? You can pretty much trace back any wizarding family via these books. Remember how I was telling you about how far back your family goes? It’s quite remarkable actually. Your family was one of the oldest pureblood families until your father married your mother. The records are incomplete, though. There is quite a bit of information that was lost, but there is no doubt that your family is very old.
“It amuses me,” she remarked, “how Draco and Ron hate each other, but they are related via the Black family. Don’t you remember me telling you that Mrs. Weasley’s mother was a Black? As is Draco’s? Their common ancester is Phineas Nigellus Black, who was a former Headmaster of Hogwarts.”
“What amuses me,” Harry responded, “is that you seem to read these in your spare time.”
“It’s interesting,” she muttered defensively.
“I’m not saying it’s not,” he responded. “I can’t be amused at your hobby?”
“Seems like you’re making fun of me,” she muttered.
“I’m not,” he said. “When do I ever make fun of you?” That’s what Ron does…, but Harry left that unsaid.
“You never, ever make fun of me,” Hermione uttered in a completely unconvinced voice. “Of course not, you only say you’re amused.” She turned to him briefly and smiled, obviously not too annoyed at his bemusement, before she returned her attention to the long rows of books. “Ah ha!” she exclaimed as she pulled one of those said books from the shelf.
Hermione tipped the book and showed him the cover, which roughly translated to The Purest of Wizards Blood from its original Latin. The book was incredibly thick and looked very old, parts of the spine cracking from age and use. Harry nodded that he had read the title and Hermione set the book against the edge of the shelf to help prop it up before she flipped it open. The pages were an aging yellow and Hermione took care to gently turn the pages until she reached the B section.
“I found it!” she announced, her finger pointing to the Black family name. “Let’s see here…”
Harry peered over to have a look, although it was rather difficult time reading upside down despite the fact he was quite fluent in Latin thanks to Hermione. “What does it say?”
She looked up at him, her eyes positively gleaming. “Did you know that Sirius had a brother?”
Harry’s eyes widened this time and he shook his head.
“There are no other male Blacks alive except for Sirius,” she remarked, pointing to the family tree where Harry could make out his godfather’s name. “He is the last one, but he did have a brother, who might be alive as well. It says he is missing, presumed dead.”
“Do you think Professor Black is Sirius’ brother?” Harry asked.
Hermione shrugged. “Do you think so?”
When he thought about, remembered how much Professor Black resembled Sirius, it was possible - wasn’t it? Harry wondered why Sirius had never mentioned he had a brother, to think about it no one ever said anything, not Remus or James. No one talked about Sirius’ family. Harry supposed it made sense. After all, it was a sore subject and all. Harry sighed. It was possible, but it was also possible that Professor Black had nothing to do with Sirius or his family.
“Too bad there are no photographs,” she remarked. “That would probably help a lot, even if they were really old.”
Harry was about to say something when the bell chimed for lunch and his stomach growled in acknowledgment, much to his embarassment and it made him forget entirely what he intended to say. “I guess I’m hungry,” he muttered when Hermione glanced sideways at him.
“It appears so,” she responded, grinning as she put the book back on its spot on the shelf.
“I’m growing,” he said defensively.
“Then let’s go get you something to eat.”
She grabbed his hand, again dragging him along with her, and Harry smiled as he let her have her way.
|-|-|-|-|-|
His favorite class with his favorite professor, Harry sat at the front of the class with Hermione right next to him. He glanced at her and she smiled at him, sharing his enthusiasm. He had once wondered why Hermione hadn’t ended up in Ravenclaw because on the surface she really did seem like a perfect fit, it was only when he got to know her better and looked deeper that he saw her courageous heart. She was a true Gryffindor, brave and true.
“Welcome to the 4th year of the Art of Practical Defense,” Professor Lupin greeted the class, which was made up of mainly Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. “I am glad to have you all in my class again and I hope we will continue to learn a lot from each other. Would anyone like to demonstrate the spells from the recommended summer coursework?”
Harry didn’t have to glance backwards to know that none of the Gryffindors would raise their hand voluntarily and of course, Hermione’s arm shot up quickly. He didn’t raise his own simply because he didn’t need to show off and further alienate himself from the rest of his house. Hermione doing so, considering that she was a fastidious bookworm, was expected. As much as Harry would like to demonstrate his skill and knowledge to Professor Lupin, he would have to abstain.
“Granger,” Professor Lupin said, gesturing for her to rise, “what will you demonstrate?”
Hermione stood up from her seat. “I will try the shield spell,” she declared before pointing her wand in the space in front of her and saying, “Protego!”
Harry watched the shield erupt from her wand and form a mostly transparent barrier that would protect her from many types of spells that could be cast at her. It was a powerful defensive spell, capable of deflecting any spell except an Unforgivable, as long as the spellcaster had enough strength to hold the spell. Hermione had not been able to cast this spell before summer, so she had indeed been doing the recommended coursework.
Professor Lupin nodded his approval and pointed his wand at her. “Stupefy!” he exclaimed and the spell collided with Hermione’s and it looked for a moment that it would breakthrough, but then it bounced back. “Finite incantatem!” he shouted immediately before the stupefy spell could affect him.
“Very well done,” Professor Lupin commended. “Would anyone else like to demonstrate?
When no one else raised their hand, Hermione jabbed him sharply in the side. Harry glanced furiously at her and shook his head. He didn’t want to demonstrate any of the spells he knew even if he did know several advanced level defense spells. He didn’t need to come off as a show off, not even in defense, not when everyone was thinking he was going to turn into the next Lord Voldemort or Grindelwald.
“No one else?” Professor Lupin stated, looking directly at him.
Harry swallowed his reservations and reluctantly raised his hand. How could he say no to him, not when Professor Lupin was clearly asking Harry to do this? If only they were in a mixed class with Ravenclaws, even Slytherins, then there would be someone else that would have volunteered and Harry wouldn’t have to.
“Potter,” Professor Lupin said, also motioning him to stand, “what spell will you perform?”
Harry rose from his seat and gripped his wand tightly in his hand. “The patronus charm,” he responded, choosing this spell specificially because Professor Lupin had taught it to him privately during third year even though it was an advanced spell.
He had successfully conjured wisps of gray smoke with Professor Lupin’s guidance last year and once during the summer he had finally conjured his patronus fully. He had been slightly surprised when it had taken the shape of a stag, James’ animagus form. Then again, all patronuses were some type of animal and Lily was not an animagus. It made sense when Harry had thought about it that his patronus would be a stag.
Harry closed his eyes briefly to bring up the memory, his happiest memory, when his family was together with his godfather and Professor Lupin - all of them laughing and smiling at Christmas Eve. He opened his eyes abruptly, pointed his wand, and whispered, “Expecto Patronum!”
A strong burst of silver shot from his wand and quickly swirled, gradually slowing until it settled on the form of a stag. Harry stared at his patronus, proud he had been able to conjure it in front of others for the first time and slightly scared that it would… The patronus began to fade and Harry forced his negative feelings aside and held onto the Christmas memory that was so bright and cheerful that it made him smile.
“Good work, Potter,” Professor Lupin said. “A corporeal patronus is quite a feat.”
Harry’s cheek burned from the compliment and he could hear the restlessness behind him. Hermione patted his arm in support, but it wasn’t enough to dissipate the anxiety within him and his patronus quickly faded into nothing. Harry swiftly sat down and looked straight ahead, trying not to hear the words that were undoubtedly being said about him - how he was so powerful and how the professors favored him and what not.
“Incidentally, our first lesson will be the patronus charm,” Professor Lupin declared, effectively drawing the attention of the class back to him. “I am sure that you all are aware that the spell is particularly useful against Dementors. Would anyone like to tell me why?”
Hermione, of course, was the first one to raise her hand, while Harry slouched his shoulders forward to make himself as small and as insignificant as possible. He hated being judged for everything that he did or that happened to him. Was it so wrong for him to take a Dark Arts class? All he wanted was to learn. Was it so wrong for him to demonstrate his skill at magic? It wasn’t like he did it purposefully to show off. He didn’t want any attention; he didn’t want to be special in any way; he just wanted to be happy and to live a good life.
Was that too much to ask for?
More soon... (so pretty please review!)
A/N: The next chapter is pretty much done, so review and I'll post it up soon! Thanks for reading!