Unofficial Portkey Archive

(A/N: Here's chapter five; I'm really proud of this chapter. I think it turned out rather well, though its about 14000 words long.

On a side note, for those interested in reading an author's rant, this fanfic got rejected from muggle-net's fan fiction section for (Get this) being too long. They wanted me to separate it into smaller chapters. (Because that apparently makes the overall story shorter) I will probably try to make my chapters under the 10000 mark from now on, though. 14000 words is a bit excessive.

Enjoy Chp. 5.)

When Harry, Hermione and Ron leapt out of their carriages and passed through the massive oak entrance doors, they were greeted by a very unsettled Professor McGonagall. Her eyes darted to the tall figure of Gates behind them, who stood patiently a few steps away. Students passing on either side of him gave him a wide berth, many recognizing his demeanor as cold and giving in to an irrational fear. The few that knew his name spoke in hurried whispers to their companions, and afterwards the small groups of students would quicken their pace and cast terrified glances over their shoulders, committing Gates's face to memory. Harry frowned, thinking that this year was going to be a long one.

"I see you have arrived with your guardian in relative safety, yes?" McGonagall said, her eyes switching from Gates to Harry erratically. She made no effort to hide her disapproval of Sirius's arrangements. "The Headmaster would like to see you, Harry, in his office. Mr. Weasley and Miss. Granger may come if they wish. Follow me please." They left the flow of students swarming into the great hall and walked down a side passageway that Harry knew was the corridor to Dumbledore's office. Portraits eyed them suspiciously, and, when Gates passed them by, they let out a yelps of surprise and disappeared from the painting, undoubtedly to alert the rest of the school's portraits of Gates's presence at Hogwarts. Harry, thinking darkly of how the news would be spread around the school in a matter of hours, followed Professor McGonagall in silence. Hermione and Ron flanked him on both sides.

McGonagall stopped in front of the stone gargoyle that marked the entrance to Dumbledore's office, and muttered the password "Skiving Snackboxes" in a low and distasteful way, as though she was ashamed to have taught the students who created the product.

The door swung open, and the trio (with Gates coming up the rear) strode up the circular stairway and soon arrived at the headmaster's office. Harry noticed that several of the objects he smashed last year now laid in pieces on the shelves: silent reminders to the rage he released on Dumbledore. Harry could not understand why the headmaster would keep the fragments. Feeling guilty about last year's outburst, Harry turned to Professor McGonagall and waited for her to explain where the headmaster was.

"The Headmaster will join you after the sorting. Wait here until then; I must bring the Sorting Hat." She walked up a shelf and unceremoniously snatched the Sorting Hat from its place, and, without further ado, vanished down the stairway and left them in the office.

The portraits of former headmasters feigned sleep but kept their eyes fixed on Harry, as though waiting for him to explode like he did the last time he was in Dumbledore's office. Irritated, Harry stared resolutely back at them, causing the occupants to close their eyes completely and snore to better provide the illusion of sleep.

Hermione, fascinated at the innumerable rare trinkets that lined the shelves, immediately began examining everything in the room, intently studying the unique objects on the desk. Gates was unable to hide his curiosity. He absently wandered around the office, sometimes picking an item off the shelf and scrutinizing it closely. Attracted to a peculiar mirror on Dumbledore's desk, Harry walked directly for it and gazed deeply into it, trying to find something in the swirling clouds and dust that the mirror reflected. Suddenly, Harry saw the pale, long face of Antonin Dolohov break through the mist, grinning madly and eyes wide with malice.

He jumped back, startled by what he saw. Sweating slightly without knowing why, Harry tentatively stepped forward again and peered into the mirror, expecting to see Dolohov's head still framed by the clouds. Instead, the mirror had returned to its normal blank state, devoid of everything but swirls of nothing. Gates, watching his reaction curiously, moved towards him and looked knowingly into the mirror as well.

"What did you see?" Gates asked in a voice barely above a whisper. "Who was in the Nemesis Mirror?"

Harry blinked, not quite comprehending what the Nemesis Mirror was. "Antonin Dolohov was in there." He answered. In his dreams, Harry saw flickering images of Dolohov's face, stretched back into a sneer, and when he awoke, his scar burned apprehensively. He took this as a good sign that he was resisting Voldemort, since the images were never full dreams or visions and his scar never seared uncontrollably afterwards.

"Old Antonin?" Gates said quietly, his voice sounding even more dangerous when lowered, "Me and him are old acquaintances. I wish I found him first before the Aurors. He is a powerful man."

Harry did not respond, still lost in thought about how his dreams might be related to this mirror. "What is the Nemesis Mirror?"

"The Nemesis Mirror," said Gates slowly, his tone icy and flat, "Shows the enemy you should most fear."

"Then why isn't it showing Voldemort?"

Gates hissed through his teeth. "Do not use the Dark Lord's name. Little boys that are ignorant of his power should not dare to use his name." He let the warning sink in and then continued. "The Dark Lord does not plan to kill you himself, then. Antonin will be the one who the Dark Lord sent to kill you. His threat is strong and his threat is imminent; that is why you see his face in the Nemesis Mirror."

"I met him in the Department of Mysteries before..."

"Yes you did," Gates said as though he was speaking to a five year old muggle, "But he could not destroy the prophecy before his master saw it, could he? He needed the prophecy first. In an outright duel, Potter, Antonin would humble you."

Harry turned around to see Ron standing idly by the door and Hermione bending over a small and spindly object. "What do you see in the mirror?"

Gates looked taken aback by the question. Recovering, he snarled, "One who is capable of defeating his challengers does not need to see who they are before they die." Gates whirled around, his diamond necklace flashing from the sudden movement.

When Gates began reading a large dusty tome titled Ancient Curses and Hexes, Harry gazed back into the Nemesis Mirror, searching for Dolohov's cruel expression, hoping to gain an advantage by knowing the face of his enemy. He decided he would wait to tell Hermione and Ron, mostly because there was nothing either of them could do and their reactions would be unbearable. Ron would likely rant about Voldemort and Death Eaters and tell him to let Dolohov kill Gates, while Hermione would begin owling members of the Order and would never allow Harry to leave the house common room.

"I wonder how this one broke?" Hermione asked aloud, examining one of the priceless object Harry shattered last year. He felt heat rise to his face.

She should not stress herself over this, Harry thought. Dolohov was strong, but Harry had Gates protecting him, who, if anything, seemed eager to duel and defeat Antonin himself.

Just then, Dumbledore swept into the room and sat behind his desk, eyeing everyone critically. His eyes twinkled behind his glasses, and Harry swore he saw the headmaster wink at him reassuringly. Although his face was lined with worry, he looked the same as he always did. Somewhere, Harry heard a faint buzzing.

"If you are all through studying my possessions," Dumbledore said gently, smiling, "I ask you all with the exception of Harry to wait outside until I'm through. I need to speak with all four of you individually, so please be patient. That includes you, Alex." He added pointedly, smiling all the same.

Ron and Hermione nodded understandably and left, while Gates stood by the bookshelf, sliding the ancient tome back into its place.

Gates, looking reluctant to obey an order from anyone, said, with a trace of mockery, "If you so desire, Albus," and left.

When the hem of his scarlet robes disappeared around the corner, Dumbledore turned to Harry and locked his eyes on a spot just below his shoulder. Clearly, Dumbledore still felt that it was too dangerous to share eye contact with him. He began.

"Harry, I feel its necessary for you to continue taking your Occlumency lessons," Dumbledore said gently, choosing his words carefully, "They will take place every Thursday at six o'clock."

Harry felt his heart sink. "They'll be with you, right?" Privately, he knew the answer.

Dumbledore closed his eyes, opened them, and said "Professor Snape has agreed to accept you again, after some persuasion on my part. I cannot open your mind in my presence, Harry, you must understand that."

He did not want to understand that. "You remember what he did last time? He threw me out. Physically. All Snape managed to do was let Voldemort inside my mind even more."

"Professor Snape, Harry." Dumbledore said, "And even right now I sense that you are suppressing your emotions. You learned something from Professor Snape, even if you don't know what."

Harry felt his temper rise. "I won't go back," He said resolutely, "First there's Gates, then Rita revives her worthless articles on me, then Malfoy. I don't need Snape to compound it."

To Harry's surprise, Dumbledore's expression did not change. "Sirius's death affected everyone, Harry. Everyone. Even Professor Snape was changed."

"Yeah?" Harry said hotly, the reminder of Sirius's death stirring his anger, "I bet Snape threw himself a little party. My dad's dead. My mom's dead. Now Sirius is dead. How many marauders are left? Just Lupin is alive ,and Snape must be salivating with anticipation…"

"That's enough," Dumbledore said, his voice stern but his expression not unkind, "I realize the mutual enmity runs deep, but Professor Snape has sworn to me that he will be less harsh towards you."

"Sworn? Sworn on what?" Harry scoffed.

"There are certain things, Harry, that no wizard will make an oath lightly on. It is not my place to discuss its nature, but I assure you it is more than satisfactory."

Irresistibly, Harry was reminded of Sirius once saying, "Some things are worth dying for."

Harry was wondering what Snape would swear on when Dumbledore interrupted his thoughts. "Now let's start with your friend Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, wanting to move on with the discussion. "You know the details of his possession?"

"Yes I do," Harry replied, thinking about what the headmaster was getting at.

Dumbledore nodded and continued. "Then you know he can have a fit where he is almost completely possessed by a personality that was etched into his own mind by a brain in the Department of Mysteries…" It was a statement, not a question. "Even though the Unspeakables will not say precisely which dark wizard young Mr. Weasley was possessed by, we do know that the damage was deep. So deep that I would not attempt to use a memory charm to erase the possession in fear of harming his mind irrevocably. You have seen him have one of his fits."

Harry suddenly knew where Dumbledore was heading. "Ron isn't dangerous, professor. He won't attack any of us."

Dumbledore waved him off. "I know, Harry, and that is why I permitted him to come back to Hogwarts. If you and Alex and-" Dumbledore hesitated "-can keep an eye on him, he will be no threat to any of us. But Harry, you must be careful not to allow his emotions to flare uncontrollably. That is when possession takes place…" Dumbledore's eyes flitted to Harry's eyes momentarily and then returned to the spot below his shoulder.

"I think you're asking the wrong person," Harry said, grinning, "As you can see around your office," He gestured to the shattered pieces of metal and glass on one of the shelves, "I am not the best equipped in handling my emotions."

"You have changed over the summer, Harry," Dumbledore said, still smiling and surveying him from behind his spectacles, "You have matured much since last year. I daresay Ron could use your help, as you have experience with that sort of problem."

"I'll try," Harry promised, making ready to leave. Dumbledore motioned him to wait.

"There is something else I would like to discuss with you." Dumbledore said slowly, his voice becoming grave.

Having an idea of what he wanted to discuss, Harry sat down in the chair in front of the headmaster's desk. Several of the portraits, snapping out of their feigned sleep, stared curiously at him.

"The main subject I wish to speak with you about is your position with Alexander Gates."

Many of the paintings began to mutter darkly behind him, but Harry ignored them. "Sirius sent me a letter as well, explaining what Gates had to do."

"Yes, I am aware of that letter." Dumbledore sighed. "Alexander approached me soon after he had received Sirius's request and told me what he needed to do. As soon as you read that letter, the magical bond formed and Gates had therefore bound himself to you. He will be your shadow for the rest of this school year, Harry."

"Why Gates?" Harry asked, desperate for an answer. So many times he had asked that question, and never received a satisfactory reply.

Dumbledore took off his glasses, folded them, and set them on his desk. "Because Alex owed Sirius an old favor from long ago. It is not my place to discuss what Sirius did for Alex, but I assure you that Alex was very pleased with the arrangement. Sirius obviously trusted Alex then, so he called in his favor to have Alex, one of the most powerful wizards in the world, guard you constantly for protection. He did what he felt was best to keep his best friend's only son safe."

"Sirius was wrong," Harry said in a lowered voice, shaking his head, "Gates is evil. Insane. I don't know what he was like back then, but he's not like that now. How can anyone be such a monster?"

Dumbledore frowned, feeling disturbed. "Love made him a monster, Harry. Love can make a man wonderful, or it can make him more terrible than anything on this earth. And he is more dangerous to you than Voldemort right now, I feel."

Harry was shocked. More so from Dumbledore's use of the term 'monster' than his implication that love made him that way. "What?" He asked incredulously.

"I'm sorry, but its true. Love can make men evil in certain...circumstances. Voldemort, needless to say, will find it difficult to penetrate Hogwarts. Alexander Gates is, as muggles say, a loose cannon and will be near you the entire school year."

Harry waited for Dumbledore to elaborate, but when he did not, he asked irritably, "Then why are you letting him guard me?" Don't give me any nonsense about the magical bond, Harry thought.

"Sirius's bond is absolute. Alex has no choice; nor do I. Interfering with a magical bond would be meddling with incredibly ancient magic. That is a dangerous thing to do."

Harry stood up from his chair, feeling old anger and distrust rising into his throat. "He's threatened to kill me more than once. He's insane and he's the last person I want to be within thirty meters of!"

"Harry, if there was a solution to this problem, I would have used it." Dumbledore said sadly, appearing to have expected this response. "Alex will be watched carefully, Harry, by the Order and others. You are in no mortal danger from him."

"You just said he was a monster!" Harry said, almost shouting. Why didn't Dumbledore understand? "Duel him! Throw him away! He's no better than a Death Eater!"

To Harry's surprise, Dumbledore leaned over the desk casually and plucked up a jar of lemon drops from the corner. Popping one into his mouth, he offered one to Harry before continuing.

"I have thought of that Harry," Dumbledore said calmly, "Believe me I have. I also feel Sirius made an error in assigning him to you. Alex's need for revenge and glory has driven him to madness." Dumbledore leaned forward, his eyes staring directly into Harry's. "But, if I should duel Alex, I am not confident that I will be the victorious. If I am gone, Voldemort will move more boldly than ever before. He has certain…items that may help him overcome even me, Harry." Harry surveyed the headmaster, and saw no fear. He was being realistic, not cowardly. "Do not fear him simply because of his intimidation. Though he is strong, he cannot kill you. To kill you would be to kill himself. The bond would never allow it." Dumbledore popped another lemon drop into his mouth when he finished.

Harry's eyes grew wide. Gates rivals Dumbledore? He thought. "If he is so strong, then send Gates after Voldemort. If Voldemort was afraid of you, and you think Gates can defeat you, can't Gates kill Voldemort then?"

Dumbledore frowned at his line of logic. "Alex, Voldemort, and I are governed differently. Our minds are all governed by a different emotion; and this emotion is reflected in our magic. You are governed by love, while Gates is governed by hate. Every emotion will affect your magic prowess to a different degree. Love is the strongest emotion, and therefore the most powerful. That is why you and Voldemort are destined to collide, rather than Alex and Voldemort."

"Voldemort is governed by hate, too." Harry argued.

"No, he is not," Dumbledore replied, his gaze still locked with Harry's eyes, "He is governed by desire, desire for power. Desire is a feeling almost equal to love."

"I don't understand," Harry said finally.

"Think of each governing emotion as a glass; though each emotion is a glass of a different size. It is a wizard's duty to fill the glass with water; that is, power. However, few wizards ever fill their glasses completely. Each emotion can take your powers so far, but no further. Gates is a man who has reached his limit, a full glass. Voldemort also has reached his limit. You, however, have much more power to gain before you are complete. Though your power is limited by your dominating emotion, your power will increase exponentially when you are feeling that particular emotion. I apologize for the weak metaphor, but it is the best comparison available." Dumbledore sat back into his seat, waiting for Harry's reaction. "I understand its not the simplest concept, but it provides an important lesson."

"But wait," Harry said quickly, "Where do these so-called governing emotions come from. Are they something you're born with or-"

Dumbledore shook his head gently. "Governing emotions are formed during the first few years of your life. By age ten, it will be firmly entrenched in your magical abilities. They most often are results of experiences, events, or occurrences from early in life. Sometimes, only one, single event is enough to determine the governing emotion. It varies, Harry, and I am sorry I do not have a clearer response for you."

Harry remained silent for several minutes, meditating on what the headmaster explained to him. Giving up, he decided to relate the entire conversation to Hermione later to see if she could translate it. "So essentially I will have to tolerate Gates for the entire year?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Dumbledore's voice suddenly became serious. "You must be careful around Alex. I know what truly occurred at The Leaky Cauldron, and you must not provoke him. He's a dangerous man. Tread carefully, Harry."

"There are a lot of dangerous people who are after me, professor." Harry said rather bitingly.

"Harry, Alexander is different. You and him are more alike than you could possibly imagine." Dumbledore said, his eyes focused on Harry's. Something in the way he did this made Harry sense the urgency in his voice.

"How so? I'm nothing like him." Harry said quietly, reining in his anger. He was beginning to feel ashamed for his irritation with the headmaster.

"This is a complicated thing to explain. Its more of a paradox." Dumbledore began, "I believe Alexander is an echo of yourself; a cosmic accident. Alexander was intended to be the one who fought and killed Voldemort, I believe, but through some flaw or twist in fate, he did not."

"You're saying Gates has a prophecy too?" Harry asked, not quite believing his ears.

"No he does not; his fate was somehow misaligned. Perhaps the evil within him overrode his mind and prevented him from defeating Voldemort, therefore contradicting and eliminating any potential prophecy. This is magic at one of its deepest levels, Harry." Dumbledore continued, "Don't you see the similarities? Both of you lost your parents at a young age to dark wizards. Both of you fight vehemently against the Dark Arts. Both of you have extraordinary powers. But the strongest connection, the connection that makes me feel you two are inextricably entwined, is the fact that you both have been created by love. With Alex, love turned him evil, which is undeniably the reason his fate with Voldemort was removed. Your mother's love both saved and created you, despite her death. However, you have overcome your loss with your ability to love intact, if not greater than before."

"So you are saying that I have become stronger than Gates?" Harry asked incredulously.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Do not think of it as a matter of being strong or being weak. Gates has simply taken another path. You both reside on opposite ends of the spectrum. You are equals, and that is why Alex is very dangerous to you. He is your shadow, your echo, your other half. My own theory is that, because fate needed to place so much good into a single person, you, the hate and evil needed to be moved elsewhere. It ended up, I'm afraid, in Alexander Gates."

Harry paused, mulling over what Dumbledore told him. Once again deciding to let Hermione translate the information, Harry asked in a low voice, "Then its like we're almost brothers?"

"As close as two can be without being related by blood."

Suddenly, he had the strange urge to leave the room. Dumbledore, folding his hands over his lap, watched Harry silently, understanding and pitying the revelations that must be playing out through his head.

Harry was moving towards the exit when a thought struck him. Releasing the door handle from his grip, he said "Professor, what emotion are you governed by?"

Dumbledore's tone was light. "Passion, Harry. Passion."

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The next morning, Harry woke up to hear the soft snores of Neville and Dean nearby. Quietly stepping out of bed, he threw on his school robes and tiredly walked down the stair. He entered the common room and falling into a squishy chair. Last night's fire smoldered restlessly. Gates stood obliquely in the far corner of the room, watching Harry with a piercing gaze. He had stayed in the common room the entire night, and Harry wondered vaguely if Gates slept at all. Faintly, Harry saw the diamond necklace gleaming from the first rays of the early morning sunlight.

Becoming entranced by the dying embers in the fire, Harry did not notice Ron and Hermione join him a few minutes later.

"Hey mate, what are you doing up so early?" Ron said as he sat down on the sofa, stretching his arms weakly and yawning. Harry was startled out of his reverie.

"Hello Harry, Ron," Hermione said, taking a seat across from Harry. Her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep and her air was more bushy than normal.

"I could ask you the same question," Harry replied, turning his attention to his two friends. All three of them knew why none of them could sleep. For a moment, all that could be heard was the faint crackling of the fire and the distant snores of students sleeping in the dormitory.

Hermione was the first to break the silence. "Still thinking about what Dumbledore said?"

Harry and Ron nodded, neither of them wanting to elaborate what exactly Dumbledore had said. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed perfectly happy, even eager, to relate the exchange she had with the headmaster.

"Well, I asked him, and he agreed," she said gleefully, the last traces of sleep vanishing from her eyes. Her face became alight with enthusiasm, waiting for either of them to ask what Dumbledore had agreed to.

"What did he agree to?" Harry asked, a feeling of curiosity poking its way into his head.

Hermione beamed. "I told him about my idea for S.P.E.W. and he liked it. He said that he will make it an official club now that I have sponsorship from Professor McGonagall."

Ron groaned exasperatedly. "You haven't given that up yet?"

"Why would I?" Hermione demanded, her eyes narrowing. When Ron did not answer, she turned to Harry and her expression softened. "So anyway, the clubs don't start for a couple more weeks, so I am going to take this time to get ready with schedules and ideas and such. Don't worry, I will tell you both when sign ups start." She added, not seeing the lack of interest written on their faces.

"What did he talk to you about Harry?" Ron asked, wanting to get off the dangerous subject of S.P.E.W.

Harry hesitated, deciding that prudence dictated that he omit the part where Dumbledore discussed Ron. Opting to talk about Occlumency first, Harry began, "For one, Snape will be back teaching me Occlumency…"

Hermione was on her feet, looking shocked. "He didn't!"

"He did," Harry said grimly, "He reckoned Sirius's death changed him somehow. Like he's a better man. He also mentioned that Snape swore to be nicer this year, but for some reason I don't find that comforting." Harry added sarcastically.

"Nicer?" Ron said mockingly, "I would hope so. He can't get much worse, mind you."

"Even after throwing you out of his office?" Hermione continued aghast, "Even after letting Voldemort break into your mind?"

"Yeah, he's pretty adamant against opening up my mind in his presence." Harry sighed. "So that leaves Snape."

A look of disgust crossed Ron's face. "That git always finds a way to make our lives hell. I swear, if he starts something this year I am going to owl Fred and George and see if they will send me-"

"You don't even have Professor Snape this year Ron." interrupted Hermione, crossing her legs as she spoke.

Ron blinked. "Oh…right."

"But that's not even the part that I'm concerned about. Listen to this…" Harry lowered his voice and leaned forward, relating everything Dumbledore said about Gates, governing emotions, and Harry's relationship with Gates. When he finished, Hermione stared at him with wide eyes, stunned.

"If that's all true, Harry, then," she cast a furtive glance at the tall, lurking figure in the dark corner of the common room, "-then Gates can kill you Harry! Not now, but after the bond is done!" She looked positively horrified.

Harry was taken aback. "Is that what it meant? I didn't understand a word."

"Neither did I," agreed Ron, looking lost and confused.

Hermione sighed, converting her brain to its intellectual side and, after gathering up her scattered emotions, spoke with a distinctly brisk manner. "With magic, all the spells we cast are different, right? Well what Dumbledore said was that every one of us is governed by a certain emotion, and that this emotion reflects itself in our magic. Therefore, a wizard that is governed by bravery, could summon a stronger stunning spell than a wizard with the same amount of power who is governed by cowardice. What's more is that the more we feel the governing emotion in ourselves, the more of an affect it has in our magic."

"But Dumbledore mentioned that wizards can only become as powerful as the governing emotion…"

She took a deep breath and continued. "Yes there is a limit, but power and emotion are two different things. Oh this is going to get complicated. Take bravery; we will use Dumbledore's example and say bravery is a glass than can hold a liter of water, that is, power. Now, say this wizard who has a full glass is feeling absolutely no emotion. His magical power will be exactly equal to the amount of water in the glass. Now take another wizard, who, like the other wizard, has a full glass of power and has the governing emotion of bravery. Unlike the other wizard, he is feeling incredibly brave at the time. His magical powers will increase exponentially; determined only by the strength of the governing emotion he is feeling. The same wizard with the governing emotion of bravery, on the other hand, will not have a boost to his power if he is feeling rage. Does that make sense?" She added.

Harry looked at her in awe. "More than it did when Dumbledore said it."

Hermione blushed. "Well I have read something about that before, and its rather fascinating material. Don't you think?"

"So what's all this about Harry and Gates being related?" Ron interrupted rather too loudly. Alexander tilted his head curiously in their direction.

"Shh!" hissed Hermione, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward even further, "I don't know what Dumbledore meant, Harry. Are you sure you didn't forget something? I mean, the relationship doesn't make any sense, honestly."

Ron was positively stunned. "What? Hermione doesn't know something?"

Harry, though, was considerably less shocked, as he completely understood Hermione's bafflement.

He mentally raged at himself. You idiot! Of course she doesn't understand because she doesn't know about the prophecy. That's the key to the whole thing!

"Errr," Harry said uncertainly, "I guess Dumbledore can't be right about everything, can he?" He finished lamely, feeling the need to say something.

Hermione surveyed him skeptically. "Uh-huh."

Pretending not to have heard her, he turned to Ron. "So any thoughts on who the new Quidditch captain is?"

"Oh sure," Ron said brightly, all traces of sleepiness leaving him, "Alicia Spinnet by seniority, right? But we still need new beaters and chasers and a see-" He stopped abruptly, as if realizing what he was about to say might be found offensive.

"And a seeker," Harry said, trying to sound casual but his voice betraying the deep regret that he felt, "I wouldn't worry, though. I mean, Ginny is a great seeker isn't she?"

Hermione, allowing herself to be diverted from her original line of questioning, said, "Dumbledore wouldn't keep Umbridge's decrees in effect. I'm sure he said something about it in the sorting speech, but we simply missed it."

Harry's heart swelled with hope. "Yeah, that's a possibility…"

A few minutes passed as they stared blankly at the fire, each engaged in their own private thoughts. Something about the low flickering flames calmed Harry, and the wild dancing of the shadows and light on the walls was nothing short of incredible; when one stopped to admire it. From the corner of his eyes, Harry could see Gates's necklace flashing dimly from the distant orange flames.

"So what did Dumbledore speak with you about Ron?" Hermione asked curiously. Harry suddenly broke out of his trance-like state and listened; he had forgotten about Ron's discussion.

"Well, um," stuttered Ron, shifting uneasily in his seat, "Nothing much. Just that usual; stay out of trouble, follow prefect duties, et cetra." He attempted to smile, but it came out to be more like a grimace.

"You too?" Hermione replied, a hint of irritation in her voice. Clearly, she felt that her two best friends were keeping something from her.

Ron's ears turned red. "Do you reckon they serve breakfast this early?" he asked gracelessly, "I'm starved." Mechanically standing up from his chair, he strode hastily to the portrait hole and vanished, muttering something about checking on the kitchens.

Hermione bit her lower lip and asked softly, "What do you think is wrong with him?"

"Dunno," Harry said, staring at the ground. He was sure, though, that they both knew exactly what was wrong with him.

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A half hour later Ron had still not returned, and several other Gryffindors had already come down into the common room to plop down on one of the many sofas to stare idly into the fire while waiting for their friends. When the first pair of Gryffindors began filtering out of the common room to eat breakfast, Harry caught Hermione's eye and nodded towards the portrait hole. She, who had apparently been thinking along the same lines, shrugged and joined him to the great hall. Out of the shadows, Gates saw them leave and followed silently behind.

The few students they met along the way seemed to veer off into branching corridors as they approached; their eyes automatically flitting to the looming figure several paces behind them and then growing wide. Even the muggleborns, who normally knew little about the wizarding world and its history, were aware of Gates's notoriety. Harry had no doubt that some of the students from old wizard families had extended the news to their less-informed peers. The portraits that lined the hallways whispered excitedly as they passed; appearing both eager and apprehensive to see the man whose name had spread like wildfire around Hogwarts.

Glancing over his shoulder, Harry saw Gates with a satisfied smirk on his face approaching him still closer; attempting to make even more students steer away from Harry and Hermione.

They're going to start associating him with me, Harry thought grimly.

Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder, giving Harry goosebumps. "They'll get used to it," she said reassuringly.

The great hall itself was tranquil and quiet in the relatively early morning; there was the dull murmur of students who had sleepless nights from the first-day-of-school-again jitters, and few people were actually eating. Looking up at the enchanted ceiling, Harry saw it was a dim, gray morning with few clouds in the sky; reflecting flawlessly the placidity within the great hall. The sun, raised fully above the horizon, lazily threw a few rays across the clouds to add a tinge of color to the mostly plain sky. Seeing Ron sitting alone at the Gryffindor table, Harry moved to sit next to him while Hermione sat on the opposite side. Gates casually leaned against the stone side wall of the great hall and watched the trio intently, his eyes fixed on Ron.

Ron looked up at them with a forced expression of happiness and then mindlessly piled food onto his plate; some of which, Harry knew, Ron did not even like. "So," Ron said conversationally, "Great morning!"

"Errr," Harry glanced up at the ugly sky, "Sure is." More people began trickling into the great hall; many of which were probably lured in by the smell of freshly cooked eggs and bacon.

Ron impaled a sausage link with his fork and crammed it entirely into his mouth, making no effort to abide by common manners and chew with a closed mouth. Hermione wrinkled her nose. "So," Ron began, "What do you reckon about today's schedules?"

"Potions and Defense against the Dark Arts…" Harry said, "I guess I'll see you in the Dark Arts class, anyway, Ron."

Ron laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah but you're stuck with Snape. Can't envy you there, mate. I still dunno why you took it."

"Need it for Auror," Harry mumbled, finding himself regretting his choice of classes. "But Hermione will be there, so it won't be all that bad."

"I think we are going to be the only Gryffindors there, Harry," said Hermione, "No one I talked to last night made it to N.E.W.T. level Potions."

"Can't imagine why," Ron said sarcastically.

Just then, Harry was tapped on the shoulder and he spun around. "Oh, hi Alicia."

"Hello Harry, Ron," she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, "I've been made Quidditch captain for Gryffindor, seniority and all."

"Congratulations," Harry said smiling, "So what will be your first official act as Quidditch captain?" he added. Subtly, Harry sensed Alicia was not all that eager to have been made captain.

"I just wanted to tell you and Ron that practice starts next week. I reserved the field for Wednesday at six o'clock so be there. I've got to go tell the others." She turned to walk away.

"Wait," Harry said, hesitating, "I'm banned from ever playing Quidditch again."

"Oh, never mind that. Dumbledore told us he repealed all of Umbridge's edicts at the sorting ceremony, didn't you hear?"

Harry grinned broadly. "Good, then I'll be there."

As Alicia left, Harry turned back to Hermione and said, "So you were right. I'm not banned." He felt almost gleeful. Quidditch again! The week cannot pass fast enough! I wonder if I can suggest any plays from The Unofficial Strategy Guide of Europe's Top Quidditch Teams that I received from Hermione…

She smiled shyly from under her frizzled hair. "I didn't need to be Professor Trelawney to guess that one."

Ron gave an authentic laugh and relief swept through Harry. For a moment, he feared that bringing up Dumbledore's conversation with him in the common room might have been more damaging than he previously thought.

Harry glanced down the table, and was startled to see Ginny and Dean sitting together and chatting amiably. Knowing Ron's disapproval of their relationship, Harry caught Hermione's eye and looked meaningfully at Ginny. She nodded discretely and mouthed the words, "Distract him". There was no need, however, as Ron began talking again.

"Any plans yet for Dumbledore's Army?" whispered Ron, though there had been no need to keep his voice low. Homework groups and other nonofficial clubs could meet freely since Educational Decree 24 had been repealed.

"Err-" Harry had not really thought about it since the train ride to Hogwarts. "The week after next, I suppose. We need to give people time to get back in shape, since no one got to practice over the summer."

Hermione looked impressed. "That's very insightful."

"Thanks," Harry said, blushing.

"Why don't you make the D.A. official?"

"Well, its always been sort of private, hasn't it?" Harry said, "I mean, we should only take people we know and trust, since we are teaching some fairly powerful spells," He paused. "What do you guys think about learning some ways to combat dark magical creatures?"

"That's not a bad idea, mate!" said Ron enthusiastically, "I mean, You-Know-Who is going to be using dark creatures against the ministry when he finally decides to start total war. He did last time."

"But how will we practice them?" asked Hermione, her brow furrowed, "We certainly can't bring live creatures into the Room of Requirement."

"We can study the theory of it for a few weeks, anyway," Harry said slowly, now aware of the rather large flaw in his idea, "Who knows; maybe the room itself can help us out."

Suddenly, a small flurry of owls descended onto the tables in the great hall and dropped packages, letters, and scrolls from home. Normally the packages contained quills and books that students had forgotten at home. (Neville was one such case) One large, gray owl landed heavily onto the table and dropped a copy of The Daily Prophet roughly in front of Hermione, knocking over a plate of biscuits in the process. Hermione placed a single knut into a pouch on the owl's leg, and it hooted dutifully and flew off.

"What does it say?" said Ron and Harry at once, both leaning over the table to read the headline.

"Well," Hermione said slowly, "They're putting a lot of pressure on Fudge, which isn't really anything new. They've been doing it all summer…" She flipped the page and continued, "Some articles about pranksters moving up to changing traffic signals to different colors…"

"Huh?" said Ron, confused.

"Oh my," Hermione murmured, frowning, "It seems Rita found about Gates, Harry," She handed him the paper. "Or Gates told her himself to make you look bad." she added grimly.

Boy-Who-Lived Hires Dubious Bodyguard

Rita Skeeter

Harry Potter, known mainly for surviving You-Know-Who's killing curse while only a baby-

"Yeah, and beating You-Know-Who in your first, second, fourth, and fifth year." muttered Ron.

-has apparently decided to hire a professional Hit Wizard to defend him from You-Know-Who's vengeance. We all agree that last year's debacle at the ministry was clear evidence of You-Know-Who's return, and Harry's involvement was taken as a sign of strength coming from the young teenager. However, his choice of a guardian leads us to think of what illness is plaguing Harry Potter's mind to create a string of abnormal behavior. (Such as belief in being possessed by You-Know-Who, infiltrations into the Department of Mysteries, as well as other strange events that are telltales signs of a damaged mind)

Harry Potter magically bound Ex-Auror Alexander Gates to a one year contract which guarantees Harry's complete security during his sixth year at Hogwarts. Many remember Gates as the famed Professional Hit Wizard who has slain countless dark wizards throughout his questionable career. The slayings, say several respectable sources, were often unnecessary and prevented the Ministry of Magic from conducting a proper investigation. Described as a 'vigilante' and nicknamed 'The Debauched Savior', Gates is now considered to be reckless and unstable. For a time, Gates was exiled from the isle of Britain all together because of threats regarding several Aurors and ministry officials. More recently, Gates has been pardoned and permitted to perform his work to guard Harry Potter.

Narcissa Malfoy, matriarch of the Malfoy family, had this to say about Alexander Gates: "Alexander Gates was exiled from Britain because of his murder of several Malfoy family members. The man is insane, and I have yet to receive any apology, written or otherwise, from the ministry or the madman they formerly employed."

This leads us back to the main question: Why would Harry Potter hire Alexander Gates; a criminal whose mind is deranged?

Numerous theories have been developed; distinctly one that claims that this is another attempt by Harry Potter to increase his fame and to leech out attention from the news. Widely believed to be unstable himself, another theory suggests Mr. Potter believes he is intermittently possessed by You-Know-Who, and hired a guardian to ensure he does not lose control. This disturbed behavior would explain his lack of judgment. This theory is reinforced by Occlumency lessons allegedly taken by Harry Potter in his fifth year.

Whatever the cause, this journalist hopes that this disturbed young man recovers from his many ailments and finds peace wherever he can.

"Oh, Merlin," Harry exclaimed, throwing down the paper in disgust, "And I thought she was gone after last month." Harry looked around, and saw everyone who did not already know of Gates's history gape at him in shock.

"Harry," Hermione asked timidly, "How did she know all that? About the contract I mean."

Her words hit Harry like a mallet. He suddenly remembered the faint buzzing that took place in the Headmaster's office yesterday. "She was there, in Dumbledore's office. I didn't even think of that."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I thought she would be up to her old tricks. Unlike last time, though, she is now perfectly legal."

"You're sure having a run of bad luck," Ron muttered.

Almost on cue, Dumbledore stood up from his position at the staff table and gazed around him, wordlessly calling everyone to silence. Once the conversation died down, he cleared his throat and began, "I beg you all to allow me to make a short speech before classes begin. During last night's sorting, I forgot to mention a new rule in addition to the expansion of illegal products to include everything coming from Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes," His eyes twinkled in Harry's direction, "For those who have learned to become an animagus, legally or illegally, taking your animal form on school grounds is prohibited. This includes everyone with the exception of Hogwarts staff and faculty. Breaking of this rule will result in suspension and a report to the ministry."

"While I have your attention, I will remind you that signups for the two new inter-house clubs, The Dueling Club and The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, will begin next week. Prefects will be responsible for attaching notices on the bulletin boards located in the great hall and each of the houses' common rooms. Further inquiries into either club can be made through Mr. Malfoy or Miss. Granger, respectively."

When he finished, Dumbledore sat back down and the usual babble of talk broke out across the great hall. Harry noticed Professor McGonagall leaning towards the headmaster's ear and whispering something quickly into it. Dumbledore nodded and she left.

"Then we can do something after all!" Hermione said excitedly. Her eyes were bright and she was grinning. "All we have to do is catch her in the act and she can be reported to the ministry. She'll probably even lose her license."

Harry sighed. "How are we going to catch a beetle? Besides, its no big deal. Let her write her stories; its nothing that I'm not used to and this isn't even her best work." He said with a sly smile.

"I suppose," Hermione said, falling back into her seat and falling into a reverie, "But she has lots of time to get nasty." She added.

There are a lot of things Rita can be nasty about if she finds out. Ron's condition, in particular.

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Harry was still suspended in deep thought when he entered his Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom with the rest of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. Finding desks in the back, Harry sat down with Ron and Hermione on either side of him; both heads forward and anxiously awaiting the arrival of the new professor. Gates, entering the classroom seconds after Harry, stood ominously in the front corner of the room, watching over the class from his aloof position.

After several minutes, the silence was broken by the murmurs of their classmates: all of them were asking each other the same question: Who is the new professor and is he going to bother showing up for class?

"So where is he?" whispered Ron.

Harry shrugged. "He probably got lost on the way. He isn't exactly the most competent of people I've met. It's not his fault, though, since your brain can never really recovered from a memory removal charm."

Ron sniggered, but Hermione frowned. "Its not funny. I would like to see what you would do if your memory was erased and you spent twenty years in St. Mungo's to recover. Still, I think you should brace for the worst, Ron. Percy will probably be with him."

At this Ron's ear turned a vague shade of red and he nodded determinedly. His last encounter with his older brother was still fresh in his mind despite it taking place a month ago. Hoping Ron would be in better control of his emotions and therefore his fits, Harry turned back to the front of class just as Professor Whams entered the doorway followed by a very haggard Percy.

"Hello, young wizards! I apologize for my tardiness. I'm afraid I have a rather poor memory!" He said cheerfully, a confused look plastered on his face as his eyes darted wildly around the room from behind a pair of thick spectacles. Harry noticed that they were a different pair than the ones he wore in Diagon Alley. His hair was badly disheveled and his dark purple silk robe was loosely tied with a sash of the same color. "I am Professor Henry Whams, and I will be teaching, err…" He looked to Percy for a cue; after which Percy quickly whispered something in his ear. "Defense Against the Dark Arts. The young man next to me-" He patted Percy jovially on the shoulder, "-is my assistant Perseus Wesley."

Percy blushed a deep shade of red, and the students who remembered him from their first years at Hogwarts chuckled silently. "Hello," he managed. Harry stole a glance at Ron to see that he was not at all amused by the situation.

"And you are?" Professor Whams said, turning to Gates; who still stood wordlessly in the corner.

"Alexander Gates. I'm sure you're aware of the arrangement," He answered imperiously.

"I am?" Whams began, surprise written on his face. Percy leaned towards Professor Whams and whispered into his ear. The professor paled slightly before returning his attention to the class, no longer interested in the looming figure in the corner.

"So," Professor Whams continued, taking his glasses off and setting them on a table; then clasping his hands together. "This is the N.E.W.T level course, and from what I've heard you lot have had quite a few colorful professors. Unfortunately, it seems they have all met quite, err, unique fates."

Professor Whams picked up a slip of parchment off of a table and, realizing he could not see, fumbled for his spectacles. Percy, seeing Whams's plight, handed a spare pair to him and he took them gratefully. Placing them carefully on the bridge of his nose, Professor Whams examined the paper closely before continuing, "Yes, it seems that you have covered several N.E.W.T. level curses already by one Alastor Moody. In your fifth year, however," his nose visibly wrinkled, "You accomplished precisely nothing."

"As a class you are dreadfully far behind in your studies of dark magical creatures. Since your N.E.W.T.'s have an entire section devoted to fighting dark magical creatures, this will be as good of a place to start as any. Accio book!" he shouted; aware only at the last minute that he did not have a wand in his hand. He searched the pockets of his robe briefly before Percy dutifully offered his own. Whams tried the incantation again. This time, a large, battered tome flew out from a old bookcase in the corner of the room, leaving behind a trail of dust as it went. Professor Whams caught it with his free hand.

"Can anyone tell me about Grendels?" Professor Whams asked, his magnified eyes blinking rapidly behind their lenses.

Hermione's hand immediately shot up. Harry, remembering that he read about Grendels from the Defense Against Dark Magical Creatures book that Hermione bought him, raised his hand as well.

Looking disappointed that he had received such a small response, Professor Whams pointed to Harry and said, "Your name, please? I apologize, I am rather slow with remembering names ,and I fear I know none of you yet." Hermione, slowly lowered her hand and turned to Harry curiously.

"Err-" Harry was slightly taken aback by the question; not too many people needed to ask his name. "Harry Potter, sir."

"Salutations, Mr. Potter," His eyes showed no signs of the sudden recognition that Harry had expected. It felt somewhat refreshing. "What do you know about Grendels?" His owl-like eyes glinted brightly

"Well, they are really rare; no more than one has ever been seen on a single continent. Because of this we don't know much about them. They're also supposed to have impregnable hides and can deflect most spells easily, and are absolutely massive. They're bigger than most giants." Harry replied, feeling nervous about participating in class. That job was usually reserved to Hermione. "Their bloodlust is insatiable, and when roused they can devour small armies. Mostly, though, they stay underground and sleep off their meals. Grendels are almost never seen unless they are awoken or hungry. There has only been one reported slaying of a Grendel, and that has never been confirmed and is now entwined with muggle legend and myth."

Hermione beamed at him and smiled widely, blush tingeing her cheeks. Ron looked stunned and gripped his chest in a comical imitation of a heart attack. Professor Whams, appearing impressed, said, "Exactly, Mr. Potter. Fifteen points to Gryffindor."

Hermione said a low voice, "I see you've been reading." For some reason, this made Harry feel giddy.

"Yeah, I've read the entire thing. It's a great book. It's one of the few non-Quidditch related books I've ever read out of interest." Harry grinned and Hermione blushed even more.

Flicking his wand, Professor Whams copied Harry's exact words onto the blackboard behind him in a clear sign that they should all begin taking notes. "Now allow me to show you precisely what a Grendel physically looks like," He made a wand motion like a figure eight and muttered, "Imago!"

To the class's surprise, a large, human-sized transparent replica of a Grendel materialized in front of them. Trying to get a better view, Harry stood up and studied the illusion carefully, taking in its form and hints of brutal strength. Gates stirred restlessly from the dim corner, his diamond necklace glittering as his eyes locked onto the figure.

Harry, never seeing a Grendel before and not having a clear idea of their shape, squinted at the figure. Its hide was dark blue, almost black, and it had a relatively small chest and stomach with long, protruding arms and legs that ended with razor sharp claws. The fingers were long and webbed, and Harry knew from the book that Grendels tended to throttle their larger prey before slashing them apart into bloody ribbons. The head is what made it truly unique however. The lower jaw jutted out sharply from its face, which was strong enough to crush and splinter any creatures' bones into dust. Set deeply into the skull were a set of yellow, leering eyes which peered out from shadowed sockets. There was no trace of hair on its body, and Harry thought it was the ugliest creature imaginable. Fleetingly, he had a vision of a Grendel bolting a man to the floor, snapping out his life. Then, in a slow, dramatic arc, the man would be lifted up and torn in two, and, after disposing of one half, the Grendel would lift up the upper torso and drink the freely-flowing blood from the man's severed veins. Innards were hanging carelessly out from the body, and the man, somehow alive, shrieked and screamed as his blood was drained out of him. Tossing the pale and empty carcass into a heaping pile, the Grendel turned towards Harry and its face contorted into something resembling a grin, blood dribbling down its jaw. The scene was gory and terrible, a harsh reminder of the monsters that existed in this world.

"Perseus," Professor Whams said, "Could you hold the model for me?" He handed the wand over and Percy pointed it directly at the shimmering shape of a Grendel, his face furrowed in concentration.

"Wow," Ron said loudly, his eyes wide, "Its vicious."

"Yes it is," said Professor Whams serenely, gazing at the Grendel. "But I ask you not to speak out of turn, Mr. Weasley. One point from Gryffindor."

After a moment of silent fascination with the glowing illusion before him, Professor Whams continued with the lesson. "They are destructive creatures; more dangerous than dragons. Mercifully, they spend most of their immortality in deep slumber far within the earth. Few wizards have ever attempted to study such creatures, and those that do discover precious little about them. They are exotic and incredible; but then, so are most things from a new angle. There are only a handful of Grendels existing in the world; they can not breed, but are immortal. Certain religions take them as Gods, and sometimes I wonder if there is some wisdom in that."

"Thank you, Perseus," Whams said quietly and Percy released the connection of the wand with the glimmering image. The Grendel flickered for a moment, then vanished.

"I wonder when Hagrid will be showing us one in Care of Magical Creatures?" Ron asked, chuckling.

"Please take out you N.E.W.T. level Defense Against the Dark Arts books and turn to page two hundred and three; chapter titled: 'The Grendel Awakened'."

They spent the rest of the class copying down various notes and random bits of information on Grendels; including their habitats, recorded sightings, and magical prowess. Apparently, Grendels themselves could perform no magic though they are completely immune to most spells. To Harry's dismay, there was no information on what spells would be effective when encountering a Grendel and how a team of wizards could fight one off. He did not expect to meet a Grendel in his lifetime, but he thought it would make an interesting subject in the D.A. meeting.

When the bell rang, Harry gathered his books and, after saying "Goodbye" to Ron, left to Potions class with Hermione; Gates not far behind. Harry saw Ron practically sprinting down the corridor while Percy tried to catch him for a brief word.

"I think Professor Whams can be a really great teacher. He knows what he's talking about." Hermione said eagerly.

Harry agreed. "Yeah, I thought he would be a bit bumbling from the way the class started, but once he started talking about Grendels he gathered his scattered marbles and became competent."

"I think Ron is taking Percy's presence rather hard," she said, biting her lower lip. "Did you see how he looked at him?"

"I caught a glance," Harry said, becoming worried. He did not want Ron to brood on it again and lose control when someone mentions Percy's name. "But what I saw was pretty bad. I got over Percy, so I don't see why Ron is being so resistant."

"I just wish he would let go! He can be so stubborn sometimes!"

"That's Ron," Harry mumbled, "But he's a great guy anyway. Mind you, I wasn't much better last year." Then he added, "It might not be all his fault."

Hermione frowned. "I'm sure his imprint has something to do with it, no doubt. But we have to work something out."

They descended down the spiral staircase that lead into the lower dungeons. Feeling clammy and cold, Harry wrapped his robe tightly around him as he walked. One would have never guessed that outside it was a warm and sunny summer day. His feet echoed throughout the stone passageways, and somewhere, lurking behind them in the dark, Harry heard Gates's heavy footfalls.

As they entered Snape's classroom, Hermione whispered, "Maybe Professor Snape has changed since Sirius died. You know, he could've gotten better."

A gust of wind swirled around Harry and Hermione as the thick metal door slammed behind them. Snape regarded them coldly from his position against the wall, and his lip curled ever so slightly. Harry could not understand how he had not seen him. After locking the dungeon door, Snape turned his attention back to them.

"Or he could be right next to you. I do hope you are not so clumsy with some of the other secrets that you keep in your heads; you both are big enough liabilities as it is."

The late bell range and the two of them took their seats next to each other around their respective cauldrons. Gazing around at the grimy stone walls around him, Harry decided that nothing had changed and that the state of the classroom perfectly reflected Snape's disposition. It was perpetually cold, dimly lit, and forbidding.

Gazing around him, Harry saw that half the class was composed of Slytherian, while he and Hermione were the only Gryffindors. A single Hufflepuff and three Ravenclaws sat towards the back, clearly apprehensive of the coming class. Draco Malfoy sneered at him from an adjoining table.

Snape moved behind his desk and appraised the class with black, calculating eyes. Disgusted with what he saw, he drew his wand and set it carefully on its stand on the stone table. His mouth stretched back into an expression of scornful disdain, and he was preparing himself to deliver a lengthy speech when a strong, defiant knock on the dungeon door.

A flash of anger crossed his face as Snape strode across the floor and pulled out the key to unlock the door to the classroom. "What fool of a student has managed to be late and interrupt my class. Whoever you are, I swear that your house will be losing thirty points."

He swung open the door and stepped back, mouth slightly open, as Gates swept into the room and took up his position in a shadowed, dank corner. Composing his face into an arrogant sneer, Snape spat, "And what are you doing here?"

"Don't you read the Daily Prophet, Severus?" said Gates coolly. "And I do hope that my, erm, house won't be losing thirty points."

Snape flushed. "I'm afraid I am more concerned with my work," he gestured vaguely to the set of brewing chemicals and solutions he was creating with his personal equipment, "Than catching up on gossip."

Gates expressed a look of feigned surprise. "So Albus has not seen fit to inform you, Severus, as he did with the other professors? Ah, well, I suppose not everyone can be in the know."

"Careful, Alex."

"Severus, I have never known you to be so serious," Gates drawled, stepping neatly around Snape, "But, I suppose, that is what results when one is damned to the eternal shadow of the dungeons. Sentimental reasons, no doubt. When one spends most of their childhood in such places, strange connections tend to develop."

Snape glowered. "I see you and Potter are kindred spirits. Both of you are arrogant beyond belief, deluded by fame, be it celebrity or notoriety, and narcissistic."

"Which Potter are referring to?" Gates asked with feigned interest, "The one who humiliated you in your younger years, or the one you feel intimidated by in your, erm, later years? I know you too well."

"Tell me your business here Alex," Snape demanded, his eyes glittering dangerously.

"I am the Potter boy's escort. Protection."

"Oh, so Potter can't take care of himself now?" Snape said with an air of cold superiority, "I suppose he never could. He always found ways to make abysmally stupid decisions that result in the harm of others."

Harry had trouble believing what was happening in front of him. He expected Gates and Snape to be strong friends, with their hatred of 'Potter' as a common attribute. On the contrary, both men seemed to have deep-running enmity towards each other. Like so many other things, their relationship was more complicated than Harry previously thought.

"He did not request it," Gates replied, absently stroking the diamonds on his necklace, "The one who died in the veil called in a few…favors." He pulled off his long overcoat with a single, quick movement and set it over a nearby table that was covered with books. Without another word, Gates retreated to a corner of the room and stared unblinkingly at Snape.

Snape, appearing immensely curious of what exactly those favors were but denying it all the same, snorted and returned to his position behind his desk. Not bothering to cover his barely suppressed rage, Snape said with a voice seething with impatience and fury, "The few of you that have managed to scrape an 'Outstanding' on your O.W.L.'s, through skill or third parties,-" He glared pointedly at Harry, "-will find this class exceptionally challenging. We will no longer be dealing with weaker potions that I expect an ape could brew, but intricate solutions that has fumes that will kill you in seconds. Because of this, I cannot possibly hope to go through the school year without seeing at least one injury from some incompetent fool who allowed his potion to cool too rapidly or some other equally moronic thing. Follow my instructions to the letter, and you will all pass through this course without injury or death. Ignore my warnings, and, well, I won't be responsible for the various reactions that may occur when liquid meets human flesh."

"Now," Snape plucked his wand off the stand and flicked it towards the blackboard. Instructions instantly appeared on it. "Today you will be brewing The Awakening Scent. Which one of you dunderheads can tell me what The Awakening Scent does?"

Hermione's hand shot up along with two Ravenclaws. Rolling his eyes, Snape stretched out his hand and allowed it to wander around the room, obviously trying to decide which student would be incorrect so he would have an excuse to deduct points. Grinning, his hand pointed to Harry, who did not even have his hand raised.

"Well Potter? What is it?"

Harry gulped. He had not read his potions book since he picked it up at Diagon Alley last month. Desperately, he tried to squeeze his way out of it. "Well, err, it awakens the, err, subject."

Malfoy laughed and Snape's grin broadened. "Five points from Gryffindor for your ignorance, Potter."

He pointed to Hermione and said, "Granger, what is it?"

"The Awakening Scent, also know as The Draught of Awakening, is a potion that gives off fumes that can be used to wake people from coma and other non-magical maladies."

"Correct," Snape said, his voice absent of any possible praise. "For those moronic enough to foul up this laughably simple potion, I tell you now that, if created improperly, the potion's fumes can derange the mind." His eyes lingered on Harry for a moment as if to say 'Yes, Potter, even your pathetic mind can be further damaged'.

In fact, Harry was sure that Snape put that thought into his head through Occlumency; as he turned away with a smirk playing on his face. "If done correctly," He added, "The vapor will have no affect upon your brain."

"Without further ado," Snape continued, "Procede to ignite your cauldrons and follow the instructions. You may start. Now."

Casually, Malfoy leaned back in his seat and said loudly, "Hey Potter, what's the point of having a mudblood girlfriend if you can't skive answers off of her? Seems pointless to me…"

Harry whipped out his wand and was about to hex Malfoy into oblivion when Snape beat him to it.

"Draco," Snape said in a deathly soft whisper, "Ten points from Slytherian for the use of filthy terms-" The entire class sucked in their breath. They had never before seen Snape punish a student from Slytherian, even for the most heinous of rule-breaking. "-and a two foot essay on why the term 'mudblood' is not to be used by anyone, especially someone from my house. To be handed in tomorrow."

Malfoy blinked, then returned to his work, stunned beyond words. Harry withdrew his wand as thoughts swirled through his head. Don't say 'mudblood'? Hell, I heard Snape use it himself on my mom…Hypocrite…

Those who recovered first from the shock began to add Thestral hide flakes into the brew, carefully stirring them over low heat. Taking the cue, Harry measured out the required amount with a dry measuring flask and gingerly poured it into the bubbling cauldron. Under the pretense of cleaning off the side of his cauldron, Harry lowered his head and whispered, "I think Snape likes you."

Hermione giggled as she stirred the stew around in her cauldron, causing Snape's head to jerk around to see what could possibly be amusing in his classroom. Seeming to believe he misheard, Snape returned to criticizing the state of the Hufflepuff's Thestral flakes.

"Idiot boy. These should be grated into flakes, not chopped into chunks. Be thankful I caught your stupidity before you spoiled your potion." Snape continued to berate the student even after he had grated his larger pieces into a very fine powder.

Harry tried desperately tried to concentrate on his potion, but his brain continually wandered off. Despite Snape's assurances that the vapor was completely harmless, the gas steaming out of the cauldrons made him dizzy and nauseous; and he distinctly thought that the fumes were affecting his sensory awareness. The smoky classroom felt freezing one moment then sweltering hot the next.

Peering through the haze, he saw that the potion required to be simmered above low flames for ten minutes before adding four werewolf hairs. Absently stirring his potion, he continued reading the rest of the written instructions. Snape could not have chosen a more difficult potion for the first day of class. There were so many steps in it to make a mistake on, and the mind-numbing vapor wafting from the potion did not help matters much. He noticed that Snape had underlined sections where, if done improperly, your potion could turn into acid or give off toxic fumes.

"Potter," a voice said mockingly over his shoulder. Harry felt his hair stand up as he realized that it belonged to Gates. "You are supposed to stir counterclockwise. I understand that this class is insufferably boring but if you are not careful you will develop a headache so severe you will lie in the hospital wing for several days afterwards. As hopelessly stupid as you have proved yourself to be, I would still expect you to master the more basic potions that you are learning here."

Harry's heart sank as he heard a second voice speak. "You are Potter's tutor now Alex?" Snape asked evenly, his teeth gritting together. He was clearly insulted. "I am quite capable of managing my own class so, if you would be so kind, retreat back into your corner."

Gates smirked and walked away, leaving Harry to Snape's wrath. What the hell was Gates thinking? Challenging Snape on his own territory! Mental!

Harry started stirring his potion in the counterclockwise direction, and, mercifully, his potion deepened into inky black; which was the color it was supposed to be. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione's concerned expression and arched an eyebrow.

"Later," she hissed, turning back to her cauldron.

Shrugging, Harry plucked four werewolf hairs (The same he received from Lupin for his birthday gift) out of a leather pouch and dropped them into the stew, which began to rapidly coagulate and lighten when they were added. Now stirring in a clockwise direction, Harry sat back and gazed around the room. It would take the rest of class for the potion to reach the necessary thickness; the more intricate parts of the potion would not take place until the next Potions class, as the stew needed to cool before more ingredients could be mixed in.

His eyes soon fell onto Gates's shadowed form. He standing stiffly in the corner and peering intently into his cupped hands. Trying to get a better view, Harry shifted his chair sideways and discretely leaned back. Gates's face was utterly resigned; his normally sharp features were softened and the corners of his mouth tugged into a frown. His gleaming necklace was, for once, not bright; and Harry thought it had little to do with the near absence of light in Snape's classroom.

Gates's eyes flickered towards Harry and he quickly withdrew his hands into his scarlet overcoat; something glittered and then was gone. He glared at Harry, warning him to return to his work. Reluctantly, he complied.

"Potter I'm impressed," Snape said, his hooked nose bending of Harry's cauldron. His eyes were wide with what appeared to be feigned amazement. "You have created a potion I have never seen before. Do tell me how you made this."

Harry stared down into his cauldron; horrified to find that he had stopped stirring his potion sometime in the past few minutes. The werewolf hairs were bloated and green when they were supposed to be dissolved at this point. Trying to rectify the situation, Harry began stirring again but found only that the bottom of his cauldron was covered with muck.

"You have your reasons for straying from the instructions on the board, I'm sure," Snape continued, his voice laced with sarcasm, "So you brewed this…solution…instead. Tell me what it is."

Harry choked. "It's The Awakening Scent."

"No, no, it does not look like it," Snape said scathingly. He sniffed the silver vapor from the air over his potion. "The fumes are not dangerous; like they should be when you blundered The Awakening Scent. I'm am completely baffled as to what you've done here, Potter. The fumes do not harm your brain or mental capacity, but they don't do anything else either. That makes this concoction worthless."

Snape dipped a wooden rod into the stew and, when he pulled it out, it was covered with a gritty slime. "I have some suspicions, however. How did you stir the werewolf hairs into the solution?" Malfoy turned his head to smirk at Harry from behind Snape.

"I, well, threw them in," Harry muttered, furious with himself. He forgot to delicately place them into the cauldron one at a time. Another zero, he thought, Great way to start the year.

Snape smiled maliciously. "Perhaps you unwittingly saved yourself Potter. When you ceased your stirring of the potion, you halted the process and prevented certain gas bubbles from surfacing and coming into the air. Dumb luck, for you. But then again you are rather good with luck." He grinned at the contradiction and waited for Harry's response.

"I will just save it for tomorrow and maybe-"

"No, Potter. I will save us both time and give you your zero now." He raised his wand over Harry's cauldron.

"No!" Hermione said quickly, turning away from her potion as several menacing gurgles erupted from it, "He can fix it! All he has to do is-"

"Silence!" Snape spat, "If I wanted Potter to receive help from a know-it-all Gryffindor, I would allow him to pair up with you; now mind your own work. Five points from Gryffindor."

Hermione blanched and returned to stirring her potion. Snape muttered "Evanesco" and, with a satisfied smirk, strode away, leaving Harry abandoned next to his depleted cauldron.

Bad memories of last year's potions classes spun through his head, and Harry fought back the urge to whirl around and tell Snape off.

"Guess he doesn't like me after all," Hermione whispered. Harry grinned.

Before he got the chance to respond, a terrified scream followed by an angry roar erupted from somewhere in the back of the classroom.

"Stupid girl! Do the instructions not say that four werewolf hairs will suffice? Why, I ask, why did you increase the number to six?"

A sixth year Ravenclaw cried and moaned in the rear of the room, with Snape looming over her and simultaneously helping her to her feet while scolding her mercilessly. At first, Harry thought she was on fire, but when he saw her feet, he noticed the thick plumes of smoke and steam curling off of her shoes. The smell of burning rubber and the putrid stench of the spilled potion filled the room, causing Harry to gag. From what he gathered, the girl's cauldron had melted into a twisted form of iron and steel; spilling the contents onto the stone floor and the girl's shoe.

"I'm sorry," the girl moaned, "Three of the hairs were small so I thought I needed to increase-"

"Oh, shut up," spat Snape, "To think I could possible go through this year without injuries in my class. Too much to hope for when your N.E.W.T. level students can't even read."

Snape strode to the door, practically dragging the girl along with him, before turning back to the class. "I will be taking Miss Rotsby to the hospital wing. All of you; place a sample of your potion into a flask and set it on my desk. Potter, since you have no sample to give you shall clean up the mess your incompetent classmate managed to spill on my floor. Class dismissed." He swept out of the doorway, pulling Miss Rotsby. Slowly, her loud sobs disappeared down the dungeon corridors.

Suddenly, Harry sniffed the air and found that the classroom positively reeked of something like a cross between rotten eggs and a decaying animal carcass. Wrinkling his nose, Harry surveyed the spill that he was forced to clean up. The dark purple goo was smoking as it burned away the centuries of grime and filth that covered the dungeon floors.

"It seems you have your work cut out for you, Potter," Gates said, his eyes brimming with amusement, "I will wait outside while you fix this…accident." He walked casually out of the room, a grin playing across his lips.

"Don't worry I'll help you Harry," Hermione said as she placed her flash on Snape's desk, "We just have to be careful about using magic around the cauldron; the enchantments could react badly to cleaning spells."

Drawing their wands, they both cleansed the floor of the potion using a combination of "Evanesco" and "Scourgify". The melted cauldron, on the other hand, was rather tricky. Because of the extensive damage, the magical enchantments on it were going haywire, and neither Harry not Hermione dared to try even a simple "Scourgify" on it for fear of it backfiring. Instead, they heavily diluted the potion with water, and, using some old rags they found behind a desk, hand wiped the mess from the cauldron. The desk, slumping drunkenly to the right, was damaged beyond repair from the acid burning away at its side and was disposed of with the cauldron in the rear of the classroom.

Before making to leave, Harry spied Gates's overcoat on a table by Snape's desk. He must have forgotten to take it when he left. This could be a rare chance, possibly his only chance, to empty Gates's pockets and find out what object fascinated Gates so greatly. Motioning Hermione to stay where she was, he crept towards the table, watching the classroom door attentively for intruders.

Hermione, however, realized what he was doing. "No! He'll kill you if he sees you!" she said, keeping her voice low all the same.

Harry shook his head and continued, half crouched, towards the crimson overcoat. When he reached it, he stole a glance at the door and noticed Hermione approaching him. Evidently, she could not contain her curiosity either.

After sifting through the cloak's numerous (Though mostly empty) pockets, Harry found two items that sparked his interest. He found a tattered old scroll with a broken seal and a small, silver braclet. Harry knew at once that the bracelet was the object Gates had gazed longingly at for all this time.

Feeling Hermione's stare from over his shoulder, he sidestepped slightly so she could get a better view. Together, they studied the bracelet. The bracelet was very small, obviously crafted for a person with a slender wrist. There were long, weaving strands of silver that twirled around each other in the circle, before meeting at the top where several tiny jewels were set; just enough to sparkle enchantingly at the beholder. The jewels, Harry believed them to be diamonds, were smaller than tears and were surrounded with an intricate web of delicate, fragile strands of silver and gold; like a snowflake. Though Harry knew little about jewelry, he knew enough to understand that this bracelet was not designed for a cold-blooded dark wizard hunter. Turning it over, Harry gasped aloud as he saw that the Black family crest was carved into the silver along the inside of the bracelet. That meant that they were holding one of the few remaining Black family treasures. He remembered Sirius telling him that all of the Black ornaments were lost through his extended family, making the handful that remained priceless. Fearing that he would shatter it somehow, Harry carefully set it down on the soft red velvet liner of the cloak.

"Where did he get that?" asked Hermione softly.

"Sirius told me that Alexander came from an obscure branch of the Black family," Harry breathed, "His family must have kept it when they split and took the name 'Gates'."

"Its beautiful, the most lovely thing I ever saw."

"Yes it is." Harry agreed, slipping the bracelet back into Gates's pocket. He could not help but think that this revelation still did not explain the way Gates stared at it.

"That bracelet must be the only remnants of family he has," Hermione said, "It's so sad."

Not quite believing Hermione's comment, Harry unraveled the scroll and scanned it quickly. He recognized instantly Sirius's solid, strong handwriting and read closer. It was Sirius's letter to Gates. He heard movement outside the door, and Hermione tugged at his robe impatiently to go.

"Harry," She hissed, "He's coming. We've got to go!"

"Hold on," he said, knowing she was right and that he would regret it later. But he must know what Sirius said. He skipped down the page, finally finding the passage he wanted.

Alexander, there is one last favor I must ask. The third to match mine. Humiliate Severus Snape.

Harry nearly dropped the page. Hastily rolling the scroll back up, he shoved it back into a pocket with the bracelet and spun around, preparing to dash away. What he encountered, however, was a very furious Gates towering over and in front of a nervous Hermione. Her hands were clasped over her mouth and her eyes betrayed the panic and fear that she felt.

"Potter," Gates said in a silky voice. Harry stiffened at once. Gates's voice unmistakably contained an underlying menace that he had never heard in such quantities in one word before. "Is there a reason you are going through my pockets like a common thief?" His eyes fell onto the pocket which was bulging from the bracelet and understood at once. "Girl, get out." He said flatly. Hermione quietly left, her eyes locked onto Harry the entire time.

Gates took two massive strides forward and placed both of his hands on each of Harry's shoulders. He lowered his face so that it was inches away from Harry's and his necklace, encrusted with hundreds of tiny diamonds, dangled tauntingly in front of Harry. Gates's face, though, was not what concerned him. The glittering diamond necklace, hanging very still in front of Harry's eyes, drew his attention. Harry swore that he heard soft, distant voices coming from the necklace.

"Physical punishment does not faze you, it seems," Gates said quietly, his breath hot and rapid, "Perhaps I should try more creative means." Flames flickered deeply in his eyes.

Harry heard none of Gates's words. Every fiber of his mind was concentrated on the necklace in front of him; listening to the voices (Or were they screams?) coming from the diamonds. Hermione is right, he thought, That necklace has something to it. Something sinister. More voices called out to him, and he leaned imperceptibly closer to the diamond necklace; it reeked of dark magic. Every ounce of sense in his mind screamed "FLEE", but he found himself strangely attracted to the gleaming diamonds; moving even closer to the necklace, his body overriding his mind. He felt his brain begin to ache; first dully, then a stronger, more powerful pain. A moment passed, and it developed into slow torment.

"Potter!" Gates bellowed, jerking Harry violently out of his reverie, "Your punishment will not come now, nor tomorrow, nor the day after. But soon, when I find the chance, I will ruin something of yours. Something dear. I know what you saw, and it has been defiled by your impure touch and gaze. Get out of my sight." He picked Harry up and threw him hard towards the door; his cheek slamming painfully against the stone floor. It was an irresistibly Snape-like action.

Harry scrambled to his feet, pointedly dusting himself off in front of Gates, and dashed through the door. As he passed through it, he was ambushed by two long arms and overwhelmed by the color brown; eyes, hair, everything.

"What did he do Harry?" Hermione cried, seeing his bruised cheek as she pulled him into a tight embrace, "What did that monster do? I saw what he was doing in potions today. He was insulting you and provoking Professor Snape at the same time. He's drawing you both in!"

Harry laid a hand on his forehead and let the effects of the diamond necklace wear away, and then pulled her aside.

"That necklace," Harry began, his chest heaving, "I think it used to belong to Voldemort."

(A/N: I hope you all liked it. The first few chapters were pretty much just building stuff up, now I'm actually executing the first stages of storyline, so its going to really pick up now. I think you can expect most chapters to be similar to this one. (In terms of entertainment and content. I know a lot of people didn't like 3-4, and frankly, neither did I)

I explained the governing emotions in two different ways so that people would be able to grasp it, but if you didn't, don't worry too much about it. Its part of the storyline, but that's later.

Hope no one was disappointed with the Snape vs. Gates scene (There will be a lot of those), Whams's class, and D.D.'s conversation with Harry. Most of that stuff won't be coming back until later.

Next chapter: Takes place approximately one week later. Club Spew gets on its feet, Hagrid has an interesting creature for C.o.M.C., Harry had several run-ins with Draco, Dueling Club signups take place, and Harry and Hermione have a little 'field trip' which, as you can imagine, is complicated by Gates. A lot of people will probably hate me by the end, but I won't care ;). Oh, and we find a little bit more about that curious necklace of his, too. )