A Valkyrie's Life
Summary: Two days after killing Voldemort, finding his friends weren't really his friends and his headmaster never truly believed in him, Harry Potter committed suicide. At least, that's what Vernon Dursley told the Wizarding World. Harry wakes up a week after his 17th birthday to find he wasn't who he thought he was, in the middle of a forest, haunted by the betrayal of his friends and family. To make matter's worse, his inheritence has decided he needs to find his mate...but everyone thinks he's dead...
Distraction
“Well, it better be… SLYTHERIN!”
Ailè stood up, smirking at the surprised, almost outraged looks of the students in Gryffindor House. I knew he’d already planned out my House life ahead of time. What a joy, he must be so happy he got it wrong. Snickering at his own thoughts, the young Valkyrie glanced over at his new House.
Sweeping his gaze over the crowd of students lazily, he smiled when he saw Ginny sitting rather close to Parkinson. Girls. He almost grinned at this revelation. He should have known. Continuing this inspection, his gaze moved down the table a little more, stopping when an emerald light flashed across his vision.
Mate - it was barely a whisper in his ear. Well technically it was his Valkyrie instincts, but close enough. The boy’s smile widened into something dazzling, making him appear as the image of pure joy personified. His mate was a Slytherin! This made his task so much easier. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to indentify which Slytherin his mate was, without physically touching them. No matter, there’s time.
A Valkyrie newly come into their inheritance has until the time of Yule to find their mate and have said mate accept them……
Ailè was making his way over to Slytherin table, barely restraining himself from singing and keening his joy to the heavens, when the cool voice of the Headmaster stopped him dead in his tracks.
“I’m very sorry, my boy, there seems to have been a mistake.”
The Great Hall, which had begun to accumulate an air of quiet conversation, immediately silenced, looking towards their Headmaster in bewilderment and curiosity. Albus Dumbledore was the very image of a cool temperament. His gaze was steady, having lost the twinkle in his eyes. He stood tall, his stance saying to all present that he was not about to lose the impending argument, if one was to arise.
Oh, how an argument did arise.
Ailes turned slowly, eyes betraying his calm demeanor, showing his caution. “Excuse me, headmaster?”
The old wizard’s eyes were smoldering. With what, Ailè wasn’t sure, though he knew it meant nothing good when it came to him.
“I’m sorry, my boy, but the Sorting Hat must have made a mistake. I’m sure you don’t belong in Slytherin. Please forgive us for - ” A false look of concern took residence upon the old wizard’s face. A face which didn’t fool Ailè for a second. This old fool thinks I’m stupid enough to fall for that? His ignorance will be his downfall. The silence of the school students was almost deafening. Confused, Ailè looked over towards the Slytherin table, where he saw the looks of fury burning in each and every student’s eyes, dwelling just behind their cool masks. This was followed by a sweeping gaze over the rest of the school. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff - as he expected, looked simply confused, albeit curious. Gryffindor, on the other hand, with students of no skill at masking their emotions, was a sea of victorious smiles.
No. He will not take me from my mate. Ailè let loose a low, vicious growl, surprising all within the Hall. To those with a clear sense of self-preservation, this was the first signal to leave the agitated boy alone. Draco, Pansy, and Ginny recognized this at once. Unfortunately, being a manipulative leader for more than half a century caused one to be more than a little ignorant and self-important. If he’d paid any morsel of attention to the boy’s physical appearance, he might have noticed the lengthening canines flashing with each growl, or perhaps the sharpening nails, or even the fact that the young Valkyrie’s hair seemed to be blowing in a non-existent breeze.
But alas, being the ignorant, self-important, manipulative old leader he was, Dumbledore was solely focused on gaining his prize. “Perhaps you could try the Sorting Hat on once more.” The old wizard smiled, almost warmly, distracting most from the spell currently being cast on the Sorting Hat.
“No, sir. I’m quite happy to remain in my current house.” The boy replied, forcing his voice to appear calm. Internally, he was fuming at the gall of the man. He was trying to force him into Gryffindor, obviously so his “new” wonder boy could befriend and twist him towards Dumbledore’s wise leadership. But he wasn’t Harry Potter anymore, and he wasn’t supposed to know anything about the man’s temperament!
“I really must insist, dear boy,” Dumbledore pushed on, his voice becoming steelier by the second. “If you would sit and be sorted once more?” It wasn’t a question and they both knew it.
The false sense of security the Headmaster was presenting was beginning to sicken Ailè, and the day’s events with the traitorous Gryffindors only fueled his rage. The sound of the last remaining Weasley at Hogwarts snickering loudly at him didn’t help at all.
Gritting his teeth in disdain, Ailè glared daggers at the ground, hiding the rage he wasn’t supposed to be feeling as a newcomer. After a short moment, he looked up at the waiting Headmaster, whose face still held the grandfatherly appeal, which helped him so dearly.
Ailè figured that letting the Headmaster believe he’d won would be the easiest way out of the offending situation. Anyway, the Hat would just resort him back into Slytherin, right?
“I am sorry, Harry Potter…” came the whispered voice of the Sorting Hat. It sounded sad, almost morose at the situation the young man was in. Unbeknownst to Ailè, and a majority of the school, the Sorting Hat was to misplace him. It tore at the very roots of the Hat’s purpose and caused a deep pain and mourning to consume The Sorting Hat. The hat knew this was the Headmaster’s doing, and he would be sure to inform the Founders as soon as possible for necessary action to be taken place. But still, he knew this would not be able to help the young man being forced to return to a traitorous place.
“What for? The Headmaster is wrong. I will be in Slytherin soon enough.” Ailè whispered in return. These words only caused the pain within the Sorting Hat to multiply. He couldn’t tell the man how wrong he was; the Headmaster had made sure of that.
“I am sorry, Harry Potter…” the Hat repeated, before sealing the fate of the young man. The headmaster, behind his benevolent smile, was grinning madly. He’d won the Valkyrie! No one would ever doubt him again, especially when they knew a Valkyrie was among his ranks!
The Sorting Hat bellowed the only word allowed to him, causing one table to cheer in victory, with whooping led by the one and only Ronald Weasley.
“GRYFFINDOR!”
As if the events of September 1st, prior to the Welcoming Feast, had never happened, Ron Weasley celebrated the win of the Valkyrie to his house. Yes, the creature had first been sorted into Slytherin, but Professor Dumbledore had fixed that. Now he, as unofficial (yet obviously official, so no one got any ideas that maybe they could take over) leader of Gryffindor House, was sure to reel in the Valkyrie as his best mate. In Ron’s mind though, Best Mate was just the nice way of saying Personal Slave That Will Follow Out Of Loyalty. That was the good thing about Harry Potter. Harry was so grateful to have any friends that he was willing to do absolutely anything to keep them.
Over the six-year period of “friendship” between the two boys, Ron had learned a somewhat different lesson on friendship that most other children learned. To him, from his experience with the Boy Who Killed Himself, friends were easily manipulated into doing whatever you wanted of them; therefore his soon-to-be new best mate would be even more beneficial to his plans of becoming rich and powerful off of his association with Potter.
Mate…
Ailè’s mind was racing, pulsating with thoughts of impending separation and pain. Why was he in Gryffindor? The Hat must be wrong! What happened?
Gone…
He wanted him. Needed him. His soul was crying out in despair. Although the separation was only minor, Ailè felt like he’d been ripped away. He was so close! Dumbledore had to go mess it up!
The young Valkyrie was still sitting on the platform with the Sorting Hat, with his head down. Despite the noise of cheer coming from Gryffindor House and the light clapping of the oblivious Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students, Ailè remained silent. He knew he would have to get up and face the truth in a few seconds, but his silent torture was enough to keep him from moving at the moment.
“Mr. Mystère, would you please take a seat with your House?” Albus Dumbledore hedged. The sooner his young prize was seated; the chances of any Slytherin student opposing his judgement would decrease severely.
It was time he moved. Ailè sighed to himself as a crystal-like tear started to make its way down his cheek. By sheer will only, the Valkyrie stopped anyone from seeing it, but it was there. Composing himself, he stole one last glance at the Slytherins that would have been his family of sorts, only to be captured within a pair of silver eyes.
Draco was furious. No, he was beyond furious! How dare Dumbledore do that! Everybody knows the Sorting Hat is always right, so what made him think that pulling a stunt like that would work for him?! If it weren’t for the idiots in the other three houses, Ailè would be here where he belongs!
Draco’s internal ranting was interrupted by the pair of emerald-gold eyes looking his way. The gaze of the Valkyrie blew him away. He was entranced by their depth and the look of longing and pain that hid just beyond the surface was enough to make him want to cry out. It wasn’t until the creature of perfection turned away that Draco noticed the crystal-like tear running down his cheek. The Valkyrie was in pain! Why?
He watched as the lithe figure walked, defeat shadowing his gait, closer to Gryffindor Table.
He watched as an infuriating red head jumped up, grabbed the Valkyrie’s arm quite forcefully and dragged him towards Granger and the other Gryffindorks. It was worse to see the Valkyrie let the Weasel do that to him, especially after what had happened this morning on the train.
He watched as the teen sat (with an enticing grace, he noticed) with the crowd, and observed how he looked almost disjointed and distant.
Obviously Ailè wasn’t happy where he was. And from the looks on Pansy and the former Weaselette’s face, neither were they. Good. They felt the same way he did. It was strange acknowledging the Evans girl; especially since she was a former Weasley, but if Pansy wanted her, then he’d have to do everything he could to make the girl feel ‘included’ within the Slytherin Family.
Draco had never had a real crush before. He was gorgeous, rich and charismatic and he knew it. But just because everybody wanted him, it didn’t mean he was willing to give himself to any of them. Hence, his closely guarded secret that he was still in fact, a virgin. Not that he would EVER tell anyone besides Pansy. His parents would KNOW if he ever had sex; they were just too good. He’d never be able to hide it. And like him, they believed having sex with anyone was a common thing for common people. And Draco Malfoy was definitely not common. This is what made his sudden infatuation with Ailè so strange. The feeling was completely foreign, yet not unwelcome, and along with it came a protective streak. That was probably why he seemed to care so much about the Valkyrie, ignoring the fact that he felt he owed the Valkyrie for saving him from the wrath of Weasley earlier in the day.
“Pansy?” Draco said, causing both Pansy and Ginny to look at him… interesting.
“Yes, Draco?” The attentiveness of Ginny Evans was not lost on the dark-haired girl. She would have to do something about that.
Deciding now would be the perfect time for ‘introductions’; Draco stopped his initial train of conversation. “Hello. I’m Draco Malfoy, and this,” he said with a friendly tone to Ginny, gesturing towards Pansy, “is Pansy Parkinson. I don’t believe we’ve ever properly met.” At the end of his little introduction, Draco gave the girl a charming smile, with Pansy quickly following suit, causing Ginny to blush fiercely.
Realising the two Slytherins were waiting for a reply, Ginny quickly spoke. “Ginny. Ginny Evans.” She finished with her own smile, which Draco and Pansy found only too endearing.
“Nice to meet you. Ginny.” Pansy spoke up, followed by a curt nod from the youngest Malfoy. Now introduced and seemingly comfortable with each other (which was surprising to the Malfoy. Ginny was supposed to hate them, wasn’t she?), Draco went back to his initial reason for eliciting the conversation.
“It appears the two of you feel the same way about Ailè Mystère being in Gryffindor as I do. I think, despite his Gryffindor placement, we should befriend him.” Draco spoke with a distracted, though somewhat passionate voice, drawing curious and knowing looks from the two girls.
“I think you’re right, Draco,” Pansy said, “He seems very unhappy around those Gryffindorks. I don’t blame him. He’s a Slytherin, so we should treat him like one.”
“Agreed,” Ginny added, “he seems familiar somehow though. I don’t know what it is, but something makes me feel comfortable around him.”
With that the three Slytherins dug into their dinner, in a civil way of course, occasionally checking in on the Slytherin over at the Gryffindor Table.
Ailè couldn’t eat. Not that he needed to, of course, but that’s beside the point. While in his nature, human food was not necessity; over the past 17 years you could say it had become a habit. His mood was darkening by the second, with every nudge, slap on the back and punch to the arm that was somewhat friendly coming from his ‘new’ Housemates in welcome. And how could he forget about Ron?
Ron! That hypocrite! He was acting as if they were best mates! Though it was always an odd quirk with Ron to conveniently forget everything bad that happens between himself and someone he wishes to ‘befriend’. What an annoying quirk.
And Hermione! What A Bitch. Does she EVER shut up? I mean come on! What with the questions and analysis and questions and lectures and questions and then there were the questions! Up to this point, Ailè hadn’t said a word to any of them, much to the displeasure of the Golden Duo. If they think they can get him to talk by talking louder the way they were, then they were even more idiotic than he initially thought.
Burrowing further into his own thoughts, Ailè went through everything that had happened since the day Voldemort was finally defeated. He’d been exhausted, but that hadn’t stopped anyone from trying to force everything else on him. Hermione can’t go two seconds without mentioning studying! And Ron with his quidditch and chess talk! Couldn’t they understand he just wanted a bit of rest? And to top it all off, finding out they were lying backstabbers didn’t make him any more joyous.
Then there were the Dursleys. They actually sent him back there. And so soon after the battle! Didn’t they care about him at all?! Well, obviously they didn’t, but no one could be that unsympathetic! Telling the Dursleys he’d killed the Dark Lord wasn’t the most intelligent thing either, especially since it had resulted in his ‘death’. Wait, thinking of death, those idiots believed he killed himself! That’s what Fawkes had told him anyway. How could they not even investigate? So much for the Light Side, if they were willing to believe that muggle and not investigate properly, then screw them!
While not literally, Harry Potter did die in the Summer Holidays. The quintessential pieces that made him who he was were still there, but along with the betrayal and his inheritance, any trademark Harry Potter significances were gone. He was no longer the gullible young boy who blindly followed. He was, essentially, Ailè Mystère, Valkyrie. Nothing more and nothing less.
And despite everything of the past and his current situation, he was happy with who he was.
Ailè smiled softly at his revelation, knowing that it was the honest-to-Merlin truth.
“Ailè! Oi! Over Here!” Ron screamed for the third time. That stupid Valkyrie was just sitting there, at the exact spot on the Gryffindor Table as he had been since Ron put him there. Why couldn’t he just listen?! Gah. Must be because he’s not human. He probably has a smaller brain.
Ronald, content with his reasoning of Ailè’s stupidity, walked briskly over to the man, grabbing him roughly and pulling him off the seat, eliciting a pain-filled gasp. Ron waited for the Valkyrie to compose himself before laying into him for keeping him waiting.
“Do you want to stay here all night! I had to wait for you, you know! It’s been twenty minutes and I’m missing the Back To Hogwarts party in the Common Room!”
Ailè just stared blankly at the boy, still caught up in his reverie of self-acceptance to take in what the red head was telling him. He knew he was angry, but why he was angry was still a complete mystery.
“Come On!” Ron grabbed at the teen and pulled him toward Gryffindor Tower. Unfortunately for the red head, the Valkyrie decided being bullied wasn’t on his list of things to be done.
Ripping his arm from the other man’s grasp, Ailè turned to walk away. Merlin, Ron hadn’t changed at all. He was still a hotheaded idiot.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?! Gryffindor Tower is this way!” Ron all but screeched at the retreating Valkyrie.
“I’m not your friend, Ronald Weasley, and I will not be treated like a rag doll. I haven’t forgotten your behaviour this morning, even if you have. Good day, I won’t be going to Gryffindor Tower. I’m going to see my mate.” With that, Ailè began walking towards the dungeons, leaving an infuriated Weasley behind.
Ailè knew how to get to the entrance of the Slytherin common room, thanks to experience from Harry Potter’s second year at Hogwarts, but being allowed in to the Snake Pit was a completely different matter. For one, he’d have to hope a few Slytherins were still in the common room. If not, he’d be stuck in the hallway all night! There was no way he was sleeping in Gryffindor. He may not be Harry Potter anymore, but that didn’t mean he could bare sleep among the traitors.
Reaching the stretch of wall hiding the entrance to the Snake Pit, Ailè reached out and knocked on the stone. He wasn’t sure if that would work, or if anyone would even hear him, but for now it was the best plan he had… unless…
It had been minutes since he’d knocked. Seeing as no one had answered, using his second idea, which had popped into his head just after he’d knocked, seemed to be a pretty good one.
-Open-
The instant the word was uttered, the stone wall opened up, rather smoothly to be honest. Keening in silent celebration at the success of his Parseltongue, Ailè entered the home of the Snakes.
Distraction
“Well, it better be… SLYTHERIN!”
Ailè stood up, smirking at the surprised, almost outraged looks of the students in Gryffindor House. I knew he’d already planned out my House life ahead of time. What a joy, he must be so happy he got it wrong. Snickering at his own thoughts, the young Valkyrie glanced over at his new House.
Sweeping his gaze over the crowd of students lazily, he smiled when he saw Ginny sitting rather close to Parkinson. Girls. He almost grinned at this revelation. He should have known. Continuing this inspection, his gaze moved down the table a little more, stopping when an emerald light flashed across his vision.
Mate - it was barely a whisper in his ear. Well technically it was his Valkyrie instincts, but close enough. The boy’s smile widened into something dazzling, making him appear as the image of pure joy personified. His mate was a Slytherin! This made his task so much easier. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to indentify which Slytherin his mate was, without physically touching them. No matter, there’s time.
A Valkyrie newly come into their inheritance has until the time of Yule to find their mate and have said mate accept them……
Ailè was making his way over to Slytherin table, barely restraining himself from singing and keening his joy to the heavens, when the cool voice of the Headmaster stopped him dead in his tracks.
“I’m very sorry, my boy, there seems to have been a mistake.”
The Great Hall, which had begun to accumulate an air of quiet conversation, immediately silenced, looking towards their Headmaster in bewilderment and curiosity. Albus Dumbledore was the very image of a cool temperament. His gaze was steady, having lost the twinkle in his eyes. He stood tall, his stance saying to all present that he was not about to lose the impending argument, if one was to arise.
Oh, how an argument did arise.
Ailes turned slowly, eyes betraying his calm demeanor, showing his caution. “Excuse me, headmaster?”
The old wizard’s eyes were smoldering. With what, Ailè wasn’t sure, though he knew it meant nothing good when it came to him.
“I’m sorry, my boy, but the Sorting Hat must have made a mistake. I’m sure you don’t belong in Slytherin. Please forgive us for - ” A false look of concern took residence upon the old wizard’s face. A face which didn’t fool Ailè for a second. This old fool thinks I’m stupid enough to fall for that? His ignorance will be his downfall. The silence of the school students was almost deafening. Confused, Ailè looked over towards the Slytherin table, where he saw the looks of fury burning in each and every student’s eyes, dwelling just behind their cool masks. This was followed by a sweeping gaze over the rest of the school. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff - as he expected, looked simply confused, albeit curious. Gryffindor, on the other hand, with students of no skill at masking their emotions, was a sea of victorious smiles.
No. He will not take me from my mate. Ailè let loose a low, vicious growl, surprising all within the Hall. To those with a clear sense of self-preservation, this was the first signal to leave the agitated boy alone. Draco, Pansy, and Ginny recognized this at once. Unfortunately, being a manipulative leader for more than half a century caused one to be more than a little ignorant and self-important. If he’d paid any morsel of attention to the boy’s physical appearance, he might have noticed the lengthening canines flashing with each growl, or perhaps the sharpening nails, or even the fact that the young Valkyrie’s hair seemed to be blowing in a non-existent breeze.
But alas, being the ignorant, self-important, manipulative old leader he was, Dumbledore was solely focused on gaining his prize. “Perhaps you could try the Sorting Hat on once more.” The old wizard smiled, almost warmly, distracting most from the spell currently being cast on the Sorting Hat.
“No, sir. I’m quite happy to remain in my current house.” The boy replied, forcing his voice to appear calm. Internally, he was fuming at the gall of the man. He was trying to force him into Gryffindor, obviously so his “new” wonder boy could befriend and twist him towards Dumbledore’s wise leadership. But he wasn’t Harry Potter anymore, and he wasn’t supposed to know anything about the man’s temperament!
“I really must insist, dear boy,” Dumbledore pushed on, his voice becoming steelier by the second. “If you would sit and be sorted once more?” It wasn’t a question and they both knew it.
The false sense of security the Headmaster was presenting was beginning to sicken Ailè, and the day’s events with the traitorous Gryffindors only fueled his rage. The sound of the last remaining Weasley at Hogwarts snickering loudly at him didn’t help at all.
Gritting his teeth in disdain, Ailè glared daggers at the ground, hiding the rage he wasn’t supposed to be feeling as a newcomer. After a short moment, he looked up at the waiting Headmaster, whose face still held the grandfatherly appeal, which helped him so dearly.
Ailè figured that letting the Headmaster believe he’d won would be the easiest way out of the offending situation. Anyway, the Hat would just resort him back into Slytherin, right?
“I am sorry, Harry Potter…” came the whispered voice of the Sorting Hat. It sounded sad, almost morose at the situation the young man was in. Unbeknownst to Ailè, and a majority of the school, the Sorting Hat was to misplace him. It tore at the very roots of the Hat’s purpose and caused a deep pain and mourning to consume The Sorting Hat. The hat knew this was the Headmaster’s doing, and he would be sure to inform the Founders as soon as possible for necessary action to be taken place. But still, he knew this would not be able to help the young man being forced to return to a traitorous place.
“What for? The Headmaster is wrong. I will be in Slytherin soon enough.” Ailè whispered in return. These words only caused the pain within the Sorting Hat to multiply. He couldn’t tell the man how wrong he was; the Headmaster had made sure of that.
“I am sorry, Harry Potter…” the Hat repeated, before sealing the fate of the young man. The headmaster, behind his benevolent smile, was grinning madly. He’d won the Valkyrie! No one would ever doubt him again, especially when they knew a Valkyrie was among his ranks!
The Sorting Hat bellowed the only word allowed to him, causing one table to cheer in victory, with whooping led by the one and only Ronald Weasley.
“GRYFFINDOR!”
As if the events of September 1st, prior to the Welcoming Feast, had never happened, Ron Weasley celebrated the win of the Valkyrie to his house. Yes, the creature had first been sorted into Slytherin, but Professor Dumbledore had fixed that. Now he, as unofficial (yet obviously official, so no one got any ideas that maybe they could take over) leader of Gryffindor House, was sure to reel in the Valkyrie as his best mate. In Ron’s mind though, Best Mate was just the nice way of saying Personal Slave That Will Follow Out Of Loyalty. That was the good thing about Harry Potter. Harry was so grateful to have any friends that he was willing to do absolutely anything to keep them.
Over the six-year period of “friendship” between the two boys, Ron had learned a somewhat different lesson on friendship that most other children learned. To him, from his experience with the Boy Who Killed Himself, friends were easily manipulated into doing whatever you wanted of them; therefore his soon-to-be new best mate would be even more beneficial to his plans of becoming rich and powerful off of his association with Potter.
Mate…
Ailè’s mind was racing, pulsating with thoughts of impending separation and pain. Why was he in Gryffindor? The Hat must be wrong! What happened?
Gone…
He wanted him. Needed him. His soul was crying out in despair. Although the separation was only minor, Ailè felt like he’d been ripped away. He was so close! Dumbledore had to go mess it up!
The young Valkyrie was still sitting on the platform with the Sorting Hat, with his head down. Despite the noise of cheer coming from Gryffindor House and the light clapping of the oblivious Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students, Ailè remained silent. He knew he would have to get up and face the truth in a few seconds, but his silent torture was enough to keep him from moving at the moment.
“Mr. Mystère, would you please take a seat with your House?” Albus Dumbledore hedged. The sooner his young prize was seated; the chances of any Slytherin student opposing his judgement would decrease severely.
It was time he moved. Ailè sighed to himself as a crystal-like tear started to make its way down his cheek. By sheer will only, the Valkyrie stopped anyone from seeing it, but it was there. Composing himself, he stole one last glance at the Slytherins that would have been his family of sorts, only to be captured within a pair of silver eyes.
Draco was furious. No, he was beyond furious! How dare Dumbledore do that! Everybody knows the Sorting Hat is always right, so what made him think that pulling a stunt like that would work for him?! If it weren’t for the idiots in the other three houses, Ailè would be here where he belongs!
Draco’s internal ranting was interrupted by the pair of emerald-gold eyes looking his way. The gaze of the Valkyrie blew him away. He was entranced by their depth and the look of longing and pain that hid just beyond the surface was enough to make him want to cry out. It wasn’t until the creature of perfection turned away that Draco noticed the crystal-like tear running down his cheek. The Valkyrie was in pain! Why?
He watched as the lithe figure walked, defeat shadowing his gait, closer to Gryffindor Table.
He watched as an infuriating red head jumped up, grabbed the Valkyrie’s arm quite forcefully and dragged him towards Granger and the other Gryffindorks. It was worse to see the Valkyrie let the Weasel do that to him, especially after what had happened this morning on the train.
He watched as the teen sat (with an enticing grace, he noticed) with the crowd, and observed how he looked almost disjointed and distant.
Obviously Ailè wasn’t happy where he was. And from the looks on Pansy and the former Weaselette’s face, neither were they. Good. They felt the same way he did. It was strange acknowledging the Evans girl; especially since she was a former Weasley, but if Pansy wanted her, then he’d have to do everything he could to make the girl feel ‘included’ within the Slytherin Family.
Draco had never had a real crush before. He was gorgeous, rich and charismatic and he knew it. But just because everybody wanted him, it didn’t mean he was willing to give himself to any of them. Hence, his closely guarded secret that he was still in fact, a virgin. Not that he would EVER tell anyone besides Pansy. His parents would KNOW if he ever had sex; they were just too good. He’d never be able to hide it. And like him, they believed having sex with anyone was a common thing for common people. And Draco Malfoy was definitely not common. This is what made his sudden infatuation with Ailè so strange. The feeling was completely foreign, yet not unwelcome, and along with it came a protective streak. That was probably why he seemed to care so much about the Valkyrie, ignoring the fact that he felt he owed the Valkyrie for saving him from the wrath of Weasley earlier in the day.
“Pansy?” Draco said, causing both Pansy and Ginny to look at him… interesting.
“Yes, Draco?” The attentiveness of Ginny Evans was not lost on the dark-haired girl. She would have to do something about that.
Deciding now would be the perfect time for ‘introductions’; Draco stopped his initial train of conversation. “Hello. I’m Draco Malfoy, and this,” he said with a friendly tone to Ginny, gesturing towards Pansy, “is Pansy Parkinson. I don’t believe we’ve ever properly met.” At the end of his little introduction, Draco gave the girl a charming smile, with Pansy quickly following suit, causing Ginny to blush fiercely.
Realising the two Slytherins were waiting for a reply, Ginny quickly spoke. “Ginny. Ginny Evans.” She finished with her own smile, which Draco and Pansy found only too endearing.
“Nice to meet you. Ginny.” Pansy spoke up, followed by a curt nod from the youngest Malfoy. Now introduced and seemingly comfortable with each other (which was surprising to the Malfoy. Ginny was supposed to hate them, wasn’t she?), Draco went back to his initial reason for eliciting the conversation.
“It appears the two of you feel the same way about Ailè Mystère being in Gryffindor as I do. I think, despite his Gryffindor placement, we should befriend him.” Draco spoke with a distracted, though somewhat passionate voice, drawing curious and knowing looks from the two girls.
“I think you’re right, Draco,” Pansy said, “He seems very unhappy around those Gryffindorks. I don’t blame him. He’s a Slytherin, so we should treat him like one.”
“Agreed,” Ginny added, “he seems familiar somehow though. I don’t know what it is, but something makes me feel comfortable around him.”
With that the three Slytherins dug into their dinner, in a civil way of course, occasionally checking in on the Slytherin over at the Gryffindor Table.
Ailè couldn’t eat. Not that he needed to, of course, but that’s beside the point. While in his nature, human food was not necessity; over the past 17 years you could say it had become a habit. His mood was darkening by the second, with every nudge, slap on the back and punch to the arm that was somewhat friendly coming from his ‘new’ Housemates in welcome. And how could he forget about Ron?
Ron! That hypocrite! He was acting as if they were best mates! Though it was always an odd quirk with Ron to conveniently forget everything bad that happens between himself and someone he wishes to ‘befriend’. What an annoying quirk.
And Hermione! What A Bitch. Does she EVER shut up? I mean come on! What with the questions and analysis and questions and lectures and questions and then there were the questions! Up to this point, Ailè hadn’t said a word to any of them, much to the displeasure of the Golden Duo. If they think they can get him to talk by talking louder the way they were, then they were even more idiotic than he initially thought.
Burrowing further into his own thoughts, Ailè went through everything that had happened since the day Voldemort was finally defeated. He’d been exhausted, but that hadn’t stopped anyone from trying to force everything else on him. Hermione can’t go two seconds without mentioning studying! And Ron with his quidditch and chess talk! Couldn’t they understand he just wanted a bit of rest? And to top it all off, finding out they were lying backstabbers didn’t make him any more joyous.
Then there were the Dursleys. They actually sent him back there. And so soon after the battle! Didn’t they care about him at all?! Well, obviously they didn’t, but no one could be that unsympathetic! Telling the Dursleys he’d killed the Dark Lord wasn’t the most intelligent thing either, especially since it had resulted in his ‘death’. Wait, thinking of death, those idiots believed he killed himself! That’s what Fawkes had told him anyway. How could they not even investigate? So much for the Light Side, if they were willing to believe that muggle and not investigate properly, then screw them!
While not literally, Harry Potter did die in the Summer Holidays. The quintessential pieces that made him who he was were still there, but along with the betrayal and his inheritance, any trademark Harry Potter significances were gone. He was no longer the gullible young boy who blindly followed. He was, essentially, Ailè Mystère, Valkyrie. Nothing more and nothing less.
And despite everything of the past and his current situation, he was happy with who he was.
Ailè smiled softly at his revelation, knowing that it was the honest-to-Merlin truth.
“Ailè! Oi! Over Here!” Ron screamed for the third time. That stupid Valkyrie was just sitting there, at the exact spot on the Gryffindor Table as he had been since Ron put him there. Why couldn’t he just listen?! Gah. Must be because he’s not human. He probably has a smaller brain.
Ronald, content with his reasoning of Ailè’s stupidity, walked briskly over to the man, grabbing him roughly and pulling him off the seat, eliciting a pain-filled gasp. Ron waited for the Valkyrie to compose himself before laying into him for keeping him waiting.
“Do you want to stay here all night! I had to wait for you, you know! It’s been twenty minutes and I’m missing the Back To Hogwarts party in the Common Room!”
Ailè just stared blankly at the boy, still caught up in his reverie of self-acceptance to take in what the red head was telling him. He knew he was angry, but why he was angry was still a complete mystery.
“Come On!” Ron grabbed at the teen and pulled him toward Gryffindor Tower. Unfortunately for the red head, the Valkyrie decided being bullied wasn’t on his list of things to be done.
Ripping his arm from the other man’s grasp, Ailè turned to walk away. Merlin, Ron hadn’t changed at all. He was still a hotheaded idiot.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?! Gryffindor Tower is this way!” Ron all but screeched at the retreating Valkyrie.
“I’m not your friend, Ronald Weasley, and I will not be treated like a rag doll. I haven’t forgotten your behaviour this morning, even if you have. Good day, I won’t be going to Gryffindor Tower. I’m going to see my mate.” With that, Ailè began walking towards the dungeons, leaving an infuriated Weasley behind.
Ailè knew how to get to the entrance of the Slytherin common room, thanks to experience from Harry Potter’s second year at Hogwarts, but being allowed in to the Snake Pit was a completely different matter. For one, he’d have to hope a few Slytherins were still in the common room. If not, he’d be stuck in the hallway all night! There was no way he was sleeping in Gryffindor. He may not be Harry Potter anymore, but that didn’t mean he could bare sleep among the traitors.
Reaching the stretch of wall hiding the entrance to the Snake Pit, Ailè reached out and knocked on the stone. He wasn’t sure if that would work, or if anyone would even hear him, but for now it was the best plan he had… unless…
It had been minutes since he’d knocked. Seeing as no one had answered, using his second idea, which had popped into his head just after he’d knocked, seemed to be a pretty good one.
-Open-
The instant the word was uttered, the stone wall opened up, rather smoothly to be honest. Keening in silent celebration at the success of his Parseltongue, Ailè entered the home of the Snakes.