Harry is still distraught over Sirius's death; however, when Remus comes to take him away from the Dursley's, a voice enters his head which sounds exactly like himself. What the hell is going on? Follow Harry on his sixth... and maybe seventh years. NC-17 for later chapters... probably much later chapters. REVIEW!!! (Chapter 4 already posted! :O)
From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/3792/
A/N: My first fic. I don’t mind constructive criticism… so long as it’s constructive. Rated NC-17 for later chapters for... intimacy ;)
Please review!!!!
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, or any associated characters or things that belong to it. They are property of J.K. Rowling.
Be warned, flamers. I have marshmallows and I’m not afraid to use them.
by The Discovery Channel
Chapter One
*****
Harry sat in the car, watching as the only people and places he cared about were whisked away from him by Uncle Vernon’s car. Harry’s uncle Vernon was in an odd mood these days; beneath the calm but fat face he indefinitely wore there seemed to be raging a battle of two of Vernon’s most fundamental instincts which had no intentions of letting down. Harry was quite certain the Order was the only reason Vernon was like this; usually, his uncle would be looking as though Christmas had come early as he sat in his car driving, imagining the relish with which he would lock Harry into Dudley’s second bedroom for the rest of the summer.
Aunt Petunia was torn between anxiety and regret; anxiety for Harry’s usual happy appearance was gone, but then regretting she ever even gave a small thought to the boy. After all, he was still an abnormal child that deserved nothing but punishment. But did he? After all, Harry wasn’t his mother. It wasn’t his fault that Lily had turned out to be a witch and Petunia was jealous of that fact. The conflict of her emotions seemed to go on forever.
Both of them were grateful that Harry didn’t suspect anything; after all, Vernon and Petunia had just left Mad-Eye Moody’s presence five minutes ago, someone who certainly wouldn’t agree with Petunia’s neighbours (except perhaps Mrs. Figg, who was a Squib).
Harry, however, was consumed with guilt. He had been stupid enough to fall for Voldemort’s trap; so, he and his two best friends Ron and Hermione, and involuntarily some members of the DA, had gone to the Department of Mysteries to find Sirius simply to find that, after all, it had been a trap; and so, they escaped, but without Sirius, and Harry felt utterly terrible to say the least, not just about Sirius’s demise, but the fact that Harry was completely certain he was to blame for it.
Then Harry remembered that he was going home to the Dursleys’; however, to his confusion, he noticed the car was already pulled up outside the front door.
“BOY! GET YOUR WORTHLESS HIDE OUT OF MY CAR THIS INSTANT!” His uncle roared from the outside.
Harry groaned as he realised he’d been daydreaming about Sirius’s death, and slowly opened the door and got out of the car. Knowing what wonders his Uncle Vernon might have in store for him due to the Order’s threats, he made no delay in half-running to the boot to haul out Hedwig’s cage and his trunk before his uncle could berate him for something else.
“DID YOU HEAR ME, BOY?! I SAID GET YOUR WORTHLESS HIDE AND YOUR TRUNK OUT OF MY CAR THIS INSTANT!” His uncle roared again, this time sounding as though it came from inside the front door. Harry looked up to see his uncle’s head sticking out of the window facing him.
“That’s what I’m doing, in case you haven’t noticed” Harry replied coolly.
“SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT BY PEOPLE LIKE-LIKE-LIKE YOU!” Vernon spat at him.
Harry groaned inwardly. He could tell that Vernon wasn’t going to give up his tirade until he finally decided not to answer; so he simply gave in early.
“Fine, fine” Harry said impatiently. “Let me take my trunk upstairs, then...”
“OH NO YOU DON’T!” Vernon shouted in an oddly hysterical voice. “YOU AREN’T PRACTISING YOUR ABNORMALITY UP THERE!”
“Well then,” Harry said with a malicious grin on his face, “Perhaps I had better send a letter off with Hedwig.”
Harry stood there and watched his uncle make his decision; it seemed to be taking an awfully long time for him to process what Harry was getting at, or perhaps he simply wasn’t afraid of Mad-Eye Moody and his fellow madmen as Uncle Vernon probably thought of them. His uncle’s face then turned immediately pale and Harry grinned at him, knowing perfectly well what that meant. He didn’t need to be told twice.
“Good.” He said, trying to control the evil taint in his voice as he heaved his now extremely heavy trunk up the stairs; it felt as though the carpet was resisting his pull. Finally, he managed to drag his trunk into the bedroom, and collapsed onto the bed immediately; Sirius’s death had really worn on Harry, and he seemed to become tired twice as quickly these days.
Harry took a quick glance at the clock. Five thirty. Snape had set him a four foot essay; it would probably take the rest of the night so Harry took out some parchment, one of his more luxurious quills, dipped it in his green ink jar and wondered how on earth to start the essay: “Discuss the relative pros and cons of the Swelling Solution, taking to special regard side effects.” Harry sighed heavily, knowing perfectly well that this was an essay only Hermione could extend to be four feet long, and began to write his answer when he heard Dudley wailing from downstairs.
“Dad, why can’t I get that?” He said angrily, quite audible from upstairs.
According to what Harry had heard earlier, Dudley had now reached almost eighteen stone; and even by his standards that really was saying something. Knowing perfectly well that one bit of ink on the sheets would mean being locked in the cupboard under the stairs, Harry hastily rolled up the start of his essay and closed his jar of ink, as only last year Dudley’s weight and tantrums put together had caused small tremors in Harry’s bedroom.
Harry sighed, and pulled out one of his chocolate frogs from his trunk, before realising that wasn’t worth risking if it escaped and hopped down into the living room and sent the Dursleys into a dimension of madness yet to be seen by Harry, and he’d seen rather a lot of Dursleyish madness.
Suddenly, a barn owl flew in the open window. Harry spotted a letter attached to its leg, and he froze; he could see the seal of Hogwarts on it, so he figured it must be his O.W.L results. The barn owl stopped just in front of Harry, and flew off as he took the letter off its leg and began to read:
Dear Mr. Potter,
Enclosed are your O.W.L results from your fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and we expect you as always to be ready for school on September the first.
M. C. McGonagall
Harry immediately ripped open the second part of the letter, which stated:
Results:
Defense Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding
Potions: Outstanding
Herbology: Exceeds Expectations
Divination: Dreadful
History of Magic: Acceptable
Transfiguration: Outstanding
Charms: Outstanding
Astronomy: Poor
Care of Magical Creatures: Outstanding
These results therefore mean you have gained 12 O.W.Ls. Congratulations!
M. C. McGonagall
Harry’s mind immediately reeled with questions; he wasn’t sure which to ponder first, but then immediately started to wonder whether or not he’d recieved Hermione’s results by mistake: after all, he can’t have got 5 O’s, but what baffled Harry most was that he’d managed to get an Outstanding grade in Potions, of all classes; he was quite certain a third party must have stepped in to stop Snape failing him on purpose.
However, Harry’s thoughts were disturbed by the sound of his uncle pounding upstairs, and Harry knew something certainly wasn’t right about that. He quickly stuffed his letters into the nearest available drawer and his uncle barged into the room, looking utterly livid.
“Well, well, well” Vernon said, in a would-be calm voice. “Who do you think could be at the front door just now?”
“I have no idea” Harry replied, for once being truthful.
“DON’T GIVE ME THAT!” He roared at Harry, who stood his ground.
“I don’t know who’s at the front door until you tell me, so you might as well quit shouting and tell me what’s going on” Harry replied coolly, although he could tell that it wasn’t a good idea to talk so casually in his uncle’s presence.
His uncle was clearly about to berate him for this behaviour, when a familiar hoarse voice came from downstairs. “Harry?” The voice called.
“Professor Lupin?!” Harry called, at a loss to explain why he hadn’t shown up for two weeks.
“Hello, Harry” Professor Lupin’s hoarse voice greeted him.
“Not to be rude, but surely you aren’t here to take me away already?” He asked, confused. “Not that I don’t want to be” He added, grinning.
Remus smiled at him, and said: “Yes, Harry, That’s what I’m here for.” Harry’s smile instantly grew. “Finally” he muttered to himself.
“But,” Remus continued, with a mischievous glint in his eyes usually reserved for the pictures of the young Marauders in Harry’s photo album, “I think our threats have been working nicely.” He finished, grinning maliciously.
Harry laughed aloud. “I’m staying put. I have got to hear this… not that I won’t hear Uncle Vernon anyway.”
Remus disappeared from view into the kitchen, where Vernon and Petunia were sitting down, quite obviously out of fear rather than anything else.
Harry quite distinctly heard his uncle almost leaping (if that was possible with his size) out of his chair at the sight of Remus entering his kitchen. No doubt he thought his ‘unnaturalness’ would end up in another bad situation like the one two years ago when the Weasleys had come over via the Floo network.
“Don’t manhandle me, Mr. Dursley” Remus said in an almost threatening way. “I have more important business to discuss with you.”
“Which is?” Uncle Vernon asked, rapidly reddening as he always did when an ‘unnatural’ person wandered into his house.
“Lord Voldemort is back, and so we need to get Harry out of here,” Remus said, calmly, “As the wards are malfunctioning for some unknown reason.”
“Very well, Remus” Petunia answered quickly. “Go ahead.”
Harry was completely perplexed. Since when had Aunt Petunia and Professor Lupin been on first name terms?
Harry’s thought process was interrupted by the sound of Uncle Vernon pounding across the room.
Harry quickly ran up the stairs as fast as he could and bolted into his bedroom as he heard his uncle coming up the stairs.
“Now what can he blame on me…” Harry thought aloud.
His thoughts were interrupted by the door of his bedroom flying at him; apparently Uncle Vernon had punched it off its hinges.
“WHAT HAS YOUR UNNATURALNESS DONE TO MY WIFE?!” His uncle half-roared, half-screamed at Harry, as though he had been planning this all along.
“I don’t exactly know” he said pleasantly to his uncle, “Why don’t you try asking her?”
Apparently, this wasn’t the right answer, as his uncle promptly seized him by the neck and threw him into the wall.
Bastard, thought Harry, now how do I get out of this one…
Suddenly, several thin blue ropes appeared out of thin air and tied Uncle Vernon to the wall, who wasted no time in shouting in rage and fighting against the ropes which to him seemed more like blue snakes, as he didn’t know ropes could act of their own accord in the magical world.
Harry didn’t feel the slightest pity for Uncle Vernon being scared out of his wits; after all, since when had his uncle cared for him? He slowly walked downstairs, where Professor Lupin and Aunt Petunia were talking in low, frosty voices that he was quite sure they didn’t want him to hear them.
“Then, Petunia,” Professor Lupin said, “See you next year.”
“Well,” Harry said, “I’d better go and get my stuff then.”
“Okay, but we need to leave as soon as possible. Voldemort could turn up at any time.”
Harry bolted upstairs, and hastily shoved everything into his trunk, spilling a bottle of ink onto his robes in the process. Cursing, he closed the bottle and closed his trunk.
“You’ve forgotten your Firebolt, Harry.”
Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked around the room, but there was no one there; he placed his Firebolt in his trunk with the rest of his belongings and heaved it down the stairs, ‘accidentally’ letting go of his trunk when it was directly above Dudley.
“Well then, Harry,” Remus said, grinning at Harry who was still in shock over the voice he had just heard, “Before you ask, I can drive a car.”
Remus motioned to the small Ford Escort parked outside, and they walked out to it where it promptly started up without Remus’ encouragement and they entered it, pulling out of the Dursley driveway slowly enough for Dudley to throw an egg at the car, which stuck an arm out of the paintwork, caught the egg, and promptly threw it back at Dudley who screamed and ran into the front door in his haste to get in.
His sides painful with laughter, Harry noticed that the car wasn’t being driven by Professor Lupin, but that failed to surprise him. He was brought back to reality by Remus’s voice.
“By the way, Harry, there’s something important I need to tell you.”
A/N: As I write this it’s been 2 weeks since I posted an author application and I still haven’t got it yet – oh well, I can still write this, so what the hell.
For those of you that are wondering, this story is a crossover with Final fantasy 7, and a few characters from Diablo 2 as well. Mad I am; don’t blame me for it.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any rights whatsoever to any character or setting from Final Fantasy 7. Those rights belong to Squaresoft Inc.
I don’t own Harry Potter or any associated parts of that either. They belong to J.K. Rowling.
I don’t own the characters of Diablo 2. They belong to Blizzard.
But I do own the parts of the plot to the story that you don’t recognise, and any characters you don’t recognise.
Be warned, flamers. This time I have burgers. And I’m not afraid to use them.
MUHAHA! A 30 MINUTE UPDATE! WORLD RECORD BREAKERS BEWARE!
Thx for reviews :)
By The Discovery Channel
Chapter Two: Familiar Voices
“What was it you needed to tell me, Professor?” Harry asked, on tenterhooks about whether or not this was to do with an attack from Voldemort.
Recognising the look on Harry’s face, Professor Lupin said: “No, Harry, this isn’t to do with Voldemort. It’s to do with Sirius’s will.”
Harry’s heart plummeted. That was the last thing he wanted to hear about just now.
However, Remus grinned. “According to Sirius’s will, I’m to be your godfather from now on, Harry.”
Harry suddenly felt a lot better; having Professor Lupin as a godfather might take away the pain of losing Sirius a little bit. But, then again, Professor Lupin’s advice on intimate matters was likely to be highly different…
Too right that is, Harry.
Harry jerked up in surprise at hearing the voice again, partly because it sounded like he was talking silently to himself, and partly because that was the second time he’d heard it in the last twenty minutes. Apparently, Remus had noticed this, as he asked: “What’s wrong, Harry?”
“Nothing,” Harry replied quickly, “I was just wondering how the others are doing…”
Harry berated himself for making such a pathetic excuse. Since when did people jump up in shock wondering what their friends were doing? Honestly…
“Well then, I guess you’ll be able to find that out soon enough.” Lupin said, grinning.
Harry was completely lost in thought. Were his friends all right? He didn’t know, since they hadn’t written to him all summer. And what on Earth was that voice in his head? That, if anything else, was the most disturbing thing he’d encountered in all five years of his experience in the wizarding world, and considering his experiences, that really was saying something.
Suddenly, Harry had an idea.
“Who are you?” Harry simulated asking the question in his head.
What surprised him most was that he got an answer.
“I would tell you that, Harry, but there are many people who, if got wind of the fact I am still alive, would raise the alarm, and the world as we know it would be plunged into chaos.” The voice said calmly.
“And since when was I a bad secret keeper?” Harry asked, slightly irritated that the voice didn’t trust him.
“And since when was information given out voluntarily, Harry? Ah, but surely you haven’t learned from Snivellus’s classes.”
“How do you know about those classes?”
“Because I’ve been watching you for the last five years, Harry. It’s just that I’ve only been able to communicate with you for a few days.”
“But who are you?!”
“You’ll find out in about six weeks when I make my return. Until then, Harry… don’t discuss the matter further, I’m sure you’ve got more important things to think about.”
Harry decided against his pride that the voice was right, and conveniently enough, Lupin had just arrived outside the Burrow, which drove his thoughts about the mysterious stranger in his head away.
As Harry was climbing out of the car, the front door of the Weasley home suddenly burst open, and a pretty girl with chocolate brown eyes and bushy brown hair came bursting into the yard.
“HARRY!” She screeched, running right at him and knocking him right over as she pulled him into a hug.
“Hello, Hermione,” Harry gasped, his breath pushed out by Hermione’s forceful hug, “You could make Mrs Weasley proud with a hug like that; one little bit harder and you might just suffocate me.”
Hermione laughed, and stood up. Harry followed, only to find that the door mat had been enchanted by the twins to suddenly disappear when someone tried to step on it and reappear above their heads in an attempt to trip them up.
“I keep telling those two to get rid of the enchantment on that doormat, but they never do it,” Mrs Weasley said, in a way of greeting to Harry.
Harry laughed. What chance was there of the twins to get rid of a jinx on the doormat? Fat chance, he thought to himself.
“Hey, Harry!” Ron’s voice called from the top of the stairs.
“Ron!” Harry exclaimed, and grinned instantly as he noticed Ron had got a new broomstick.
“Fred and George bought me this for my birthday,” He beamed, handing the Firebolt over to Harry to examine.
“Nice,” Harry replied, grinning widely at the thought of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, “And I’ll take this as a sign they’re doing well?”
“Yep,” Ron said, “Zonko’s is losing money now!”
“Whoa,” Harry said, genuinely surprised at this news, “Does your mum still say their jokes aren’t productive?” He asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Ron laughed madly. “Yep.”
“You’re joking!” Harry exclaimed. “…Does your mum know who gave them the money?” He added in an undertone.
“No, Harry, I left that pleasure for you,” Ron said, relishing every word of his last sentence.
“I’ll return the favour one day” Harry replied, grinning, causing Ron’s smirk to quickly disappear.
“I hope Mrs. Weasley doesn’t bring that up at dinner tonight” Harry muttered under his breath.
“You’d better hope for that if you don’t want to be on the receiving end of Mrs Weasley’s ENCHANTED rages!”
“Mrs Weasley has enchanted rages?!”
“Yeah, I was on the receiving end of them rather a lot.”
“Aha, clues, clues…”
“For hell’s sake, Harry, can’t you wait six weeks? I assure you it’ll be worth the wait, and anyway, only three people recognise my name, of which two are dead, and the other is me.”
“So who the hell could ‘raise the alarm’?”
“There are more worlds than the one you live in, you know. In the world I live in, I’m rather an influential figure.”
“I’m just wondering what your mum will say when I tell her I gave them the money to start up that shop of theirs” Harry said, laughing in between the words to cover up the awkward moment.
Ron grinned maliciously, seemingly satisfied. “I’m looking forward to that.”
Hermione giggled from behind them.
“Good luck trying that… I wouldn’t fancy being in your position at the moment, Harry.”
Harry glared at her for a moment before laughing with her and Ron, and making his way downstairs for dinner.
He was greeted by the twins, who were seemingly testing out a new prank tonight, as the cake was glowing ever so slightly purple; it was only visible if you were specifically looking for it. He knew it was there; the twins were grinning mischievously in that direction.
Mrs Weasley seemingly spotted this too, since she muttered an incantation that made the purple glow fade away.
“Nice try, you two,” She said through gritted teeth, “But even I’m not that stupid…”
“At least, that’s what she thinks” Fred muttered to Harry, grinning.
Everyone sat down at the table, including Mad-Eye, who suspiciously eyed the cake, and for good reason.
Lupin took a slice out of the cake; it immediately transfigured itself into a Monster Book of Monsters and proceeded to try and bite his fingers off.
Remus laughed madly. “Why am I not surprised…” He said, congratulating the twins on making such a stealthy prank, and earning a death glare from Mrs. Weasley in the process.
“I don’t think that’s an appropriate comment, Remus” she said, glaring at him.
“I don’t think that’s an appropriate comment either, Molly,” he said thoughtfully. “After all, that shop is doing very well, isn’t it?”
“I still don’t think it’s an appropriate career for my children-“
“Since earning money isn’t an appropriate career for your children,” Remus snorted, “What IS an appropriate career for them?”
Mrs. Weasley blushed, and decided to simply continue on as usual, which, considering her usual arguing capabilities, was quite something.
“Harry, did anyone slip some muggle LSD into my drink this morning? I believe I just saw Mrs. Weasley give up on something, and I’m absolutely perplexed.”
“Yeah, you did,” Harry thought, “And I can’t say I would expect that either.”
“Definitely not,” The voice replied, “Oh, and one other thing, Harry; if I were you, I wouldn’t touch the slice of pizza on the tray to your right at the top right hand side.”
“Aha” Harry replied, grinning maliciously. “Fred,” He said innocently, indicating to the suspicious pizza, “Have you tried this pizza? It’s excellent.”
“No, Harry, I hate that type,” Fred said, paling instantly, “Anyway, I’m sure you want it.”
“No, you try it, this one’s different” Harry said triumphantly, thrusting the slice onto Fred’s plate, who sighed heavily and took a small bite, instantly transforming into a house-elf. Harry roared with laughter, along with the rest of the table.
“Fred, go and get me a Skiving Snackbox” Harry commanded, enjoying every moment.
Fred the house-elf reluctantly got up, and walked upstairs, seemingly taking as much time as possible to come back down. When he finally reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the room, Harry grinned conspiratorially.
“Hand me that Skiving Snackbox.” Harry commanded again.
Fred the house-elf handed him the Skiving Snackbox, and Harry removed the purple end. He handed the house-elf the orange end.
“Swallow it.” He said sternly.
Immediately, before it could even get down his throat, Fred the house-elf turned back into Fred, and began having an abnormally large nosebleed. Harry grinned.
“Nosebleed nougat,” He laughed, “And maybe that’ll teach you.”
The room was ringing with laughter and giggles; no one except Mrs Weasley seemed to care about Fred’s nosebleed, and she immediately glared at them all before carrying him delicately upstairs. The voice in Harry’s head laughed.
“Nice going, Harry” The voice remarked. Harry grinned.
As the laughter died down, Harry noticed that someone was impatiently pounding on the front door.
A/N: Sorry I haven’t updated recently, too much other stuff to be getting on with… anyway, guys, can you PLEASE just take half a minute of your time to review this? For the last two chapters, I’ve had 861 hits, and only 8 reviews. Grrrrr.
But hey, you didn’t come here to read my moaning, did you? On with the third chapter, I say! :D
Be warned, flamers. I have your HP books and I’m not afraid to use them :-P MWAHAH!!!!
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, or quite clearly I wouldn’t be writing this.
Rather a lot goes on in this chapter… you may think I’m rushing, but I’m not. Plenty more story to come. :)
Chapter Three
Harry rushed to the door, but suddenly he found himself on the floor as Moody had put an arm in his way and he’d run right into it. He rubbed his neck and groaned.
“Vigilance, Harry, what if Malfoy and his men are outside that door? Are you just going to open it and make it easier for them?”
“Do Malfoy and his men knock on people’s doors, Professor?” Harry asked, on the verge of breaking into hysterical laughter.
Moody snorted. “Stop calling me Professor,” He replied irritably, “It’s Moody, Alastor or Mad-Eye.”
“Okay, okay” Harry said, and he walked up to the door. “Who is it?”
“Me,” came a girl’s voice that Harry recognized instantly, “So let me in, I’ve been standing out here for at least five minutes.”
Harry turned the knob and opened the door, to see Hermione standing before him.
“Harry!” She squealed, running right into him and giving him a hug that Mrs. Weasley would envy.
Harry coughed. “Are you trying to strangle me, Hermione?” He asked, laughing.
“She could be,” Ron’s voice said as he trudged slowly down the stairs, who promptly froze at the sight of Hermione getting up off of a messed up Harry. Ron seemed to think incoherently for a moment before recollecting his composure and saying “How was your holiday in France, Hermione?”
“Good,” Hermione replied, grinning, “Probably because my parents didn’t force me to go skiing this time.”
Harry laughed. “What did you do there, then?”
“Sightseeing, mostly,” Hermione sighed, “Which was the boring bit, of course, except maybe going up to the top of Eiffel Tower; it was terrifying to look over the edge of it.”
“It could be worse,” Harry said, sniggering madly, “Imagine having to walk up the stairs…”
Hermione grimaced. “Now that doesn’t sound good.”
“Well, if that doesn’t appeal to you,” Harry said, with a wide grin at the look on Ron’s face, “How about those people who did a marathon up the stairs of the Empire State Building?”
Ron sniggered. “Did you read that out of that muggle Record book?”
“The Guinness Book of World Records” Hermione corrected him.
“Typical Hermione” Ron muttered under his breath so that only Harry heard him.
“Well, if you happen to pick it up again, Hermione,” Harry said innocently, “Do you mind checking if Dudley’s in there?”
Both Ron and Hermione broke out laughing. The voice in Harry’s head sniggered.
“Now you’ve got one damn good point there” The voice said in between laughs.
“Just how would you know that?” Harry asked it irritably.
“Because I can see everything you see, and more, including how you feel about… certain people.”
“Anything wrong, Harry?” Ron asked, to Harry’s extreme irritation. Unknown to Ron he was already holding one conversation.
“No, I’m just thinking about what Snivellus might be like next year when he realizes I’m in his potions class next year.”
Ron failed to stifle a snigger. “You got an ‘O’ in potions, Harry?”
“Yeah”
“You’re in for it, mate,” Ron said, clutching his stomach, “He’ll do you in for forcing your presence onto him for the next two years.”
Noticing that Ron and Hermione had started talking amongst themselves, Harry resumed his conversation with the unknown voice in his head.
“Aha…”
“I know perfectly well I haven’t let anything slip, so don’t give me that”
“Oh yes you have, you don’t know who Dudley is”
“What did I just tell you, Harry?”
“That you can see everything I… ah, you win” The voice laughed.
“I always win. You’d do well to remember that.”
“So Harry, how do you intend on staying alive in Snape’s classes?” Ron asked.
“I’ll have to find out, won’t I?” Harry replied. Ron grinned evilly.
“Indeed you will” He replied in the most cocky tone he could muster.
“So,” Harry said, deciding to change the subject, how many OWLs did you get, Ron?”
“Nine,” He said happily, “And Malfoy got seven.” Harry laughed.
”He won’t be happy to learn that he’s been beaten by the Weasel” Harry emphasized the last word. Ron glared at him and grinned.
“Ask Ron if he knows what Crabbe and Goyle got; expect two or less.”
Harry sniggered. “Ron, do you know how many Crabbe and Goyle got?”
“No,” Ron said eagerly, “How many?”
Harry looked slightly crestfallen. “I don’t know, I thought you might know since your dad works in the Ministry and all.”
“You expect the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office to know people’s OWL results?” Hermione asked.
“No,” Harry replied. “It was just a thought.”
“Harry, did Hermione just say PEOPLE?! She calls Crabbe and Goyle PEOPLE?!”
Harry laughed and clutched his sides to stop himself from falling over.
“What’s so funny?” Hermione asked, confused.
“Nothing,” Harry said between fits of laughter, “Just calling Crabbe and Goyle people strikes me as odd…” Ron sniggered.
“Point taken, mate.” He said, grinning widely. The three were unexpectly interrupted by Harry’s godfather walking into the hallway.
“Molly’s called you three in for dinner already,” Remus said, looking somewhat irritated, “And I think she’s deafened me in the process.” Ron and Hermione laughed, and slowly trudged into the kitchen, unaware of the thin white line that lay in front of their knees. Harry didn’t miss it, so he lagged behind Ron and Hermione, and roared with laughter when they tripped over it and Fred and George banished buckets of mud into their way as they did.
“Ah, that was priceless,” Harry said, “The looks on your faces…”
“Shut up, Harry!” Hermione shrieked, covered in mud, but her giggling gave her away.
Hermione cleaned herself up with a simple flick of her wand and a mutter; Ron didn’t have that kind of prowess and Hermione got him to beg on his knees before she cleaned the mud off him with a flick of her wand. She giggled uncontrollably.
“You know how funny it is when you beg?” She asked.
Ron glared at her, and Harry laughed as the three joined the table for dinner.
“Harry, I think it’s time that I reveal myself”
Harry was genuinely surprised to hear this. “But didn’t you say that it would raise the alarm if anyone knew you were still alive?”
“I forgot something,” The voice said, “If a few mortals know who I am, legilimency will only reveal my presence if I’m being specifically looked for. And also, almost no demons walk on the mortal world nowadays; they think it’s dishonourable.”
“So who are you?” Harry asked,
“My name is Ant, and I’m your brother, Harry”
“WHAT?!”
“You heard me.”
“But the photos of me don’t show you.”
“That’s because whilst I lived in the mortal world I was in hiding. Mum and Dad thought the prophecy might have been centered around me, and they were determined to allow me as much time as possible to gain power. Once Tom and his men came to the house, I realized it was not centered around me.”
“How?”
“I’ll explain that later, if you can’t figure it out”
Harry was completely confused. Did he have a brother? Or should he really be believing what was just a voice in his head?
“I heard that”
Harry sighed heavily. He couldn’t exactly escape a voice in his head. However, his thoughts immediately jumped to the conversation being held at the table, of which the others were completely oblivious to Harry’s look of utter confusion.
“What do you think Albus will do about it, Molly?” Remus asked.
“I don’t know, Remus,” Mrs. Weasley replied, “But still, I wish he would just listen to me on this. Harry isn’t necessarily safe from You-Know-Who at Hogwarts.”
“First of all, Molly, it’s Voldemort, not You-Know-Who” Remus said irritably, “And secondly, in case you’ve forgotten, I’m his godfather.”
“And in case any of you have forgotten, I’m sitting right here!” Harry shouted angrily, although no one seemed to hear him.
“And you’ve been his godfather for exactly how long, Remus?” Molly retorted coldly.
“Long enough,” He replied angrily. “Molly, his name isn’t Harry Weasley, for Merlin’s sake!”
“It might as well be!”
“Oh, would it now?” Remus asked coldly. “I seem to believe that you aren’t his mother, Molly. I remember you having the same argument with Sirius on that.”
“AND YOU KNOW HIM WELL AFTER BEING HIS GODFATHER FOR FIVE HOURS, DO YOU?” Mrs. Weasley shouted at him. Remus narrowed his eyes; he was rapidly losing his patience.
“No, but do you know him from, what, one summer spent here, and one at Grimmauld place?”
“SHUT THE HELL UP!” Roared a voice that Harry instantly recognized, although it appeared to have come from the ceiling.
Every adult in the room immediately froze in fear.
After a long silence, Remus spoke. “Aren’t the demons extinct?” He said, failing to keep his calm composure in check.
“Do I sound dead to you, Remus?” The voice asked coldly. Hermione gasped as she realized who this might be. “I don’t seem to think so. Maybe you do, though.”
“N-No” Remus stuttered, clearly petrified of incurring the voice’s wrath.
The voice calmed down considerably.
“There are still millions of us, Remus,” The voice said patiently, “We never became extinct in the first place; one of the Lord Archangels tried to keep the demonic realm concealed from mortals.”
“Ah,” Remus replied.
“Ah indeed,” The voice replied. “And you don’t know who I am, do you?”
“No, who are you?” Hermione asked, finally gathering up the courage to reply to the demon.
“I am Lord Archangel Nailclaw, or to you, my name is Ant; I’m Harry’s brother.”
Everyone in the room gasped in shock.
“But James only had one son,” Remus stated, his voice cracking, “Didn’t he?”
“Remember a certain Kevin Pillbeam, Remus?” Ant asked coolly.
“You don’t mean…”
”Oh yes I do. That was me, in hiding; Mum and Dad thought I was what the prophecy was based upon so they put me into hiding in Hogwarts.”
Remus didn’t move. Apparently he was too confused to say anything.
“But I need you to ensure that my presence doesn’t get out to anyone else,” Ant’s voice said, “Because if even one wrong person finds out… well, it won’t be pretty.”
“Okay, Ant, but answer me one question,” Harry said coolly, “When are you going to be back?”
“As I said, give it five or six weeks. My former fiancé is waiting for me at Hogwarts when I return, luckily for me.”
“Former fiancé?” Harry asked, confused.
“I died one hour before the wedding,” Ant’s voice replied, sighing irritably, “Oh well. Six weeks of waiting and that won’t matter.”
“Who is she, anyway?” Harry asked.
“Tifa Lockheart; she’s one of the two arcane arts teachers that came to teach this year.”
Remus’s eyes grew wide.
A/N: Hello again people! Just for you people that don’t know, Tifa is a character from Final Fantasy 7, and obviously that game and its associated paraphernalia are the property of Squaresoft Inc.
Still… please PLEASE review this!! I thrive on your reviews and I’m not getting any!!!
Note: As much as this might not be relevant, if you haven’t read Amynoelle and Heaven’s massive story yet, go and check out Dirty Dancing and read on from there once you’ve finished reading this. I’ve got to hand it to them for writing the best (and probably longest) fanfiction I’ve ever read.
Lots of humiliation for the Weasley twins here indirectly from Ant. :)
Anyway, on with chapter four :D
Chapter Four
The following morning, Harry woke up after a dreamless sleep. He was highly grateful that his sleeping patterns had done that for him over the last few days; before he’d been driven to the burrow by his godfather he’d been constantly having nightmares over the loss of Sirius. Harry was highly grateful that they hadn’t continued.
He was also highly grateful that he’d managed to get a good sleep, as he glanced at the calendar and noticed it was his birthday. Although the last five years had yielded much better birthdays than before, he still didn’t see his birthday as excitedly as most people his age; he still liked them, though, given the rather eccentric presents he’d received for his birthdays.
“Oi Harry, wake up!” Ron shouted from the other side of the door, pounding it with his fist happily. Harry groaned in pain as the noise Ron was making was agonizing to his ears which had only just woken up.
“Okay, okay,” Harry shouted back through the door irritably, “I think there might be some people in Australia who didn’t hear you, Ron”
Harry heard Hermione laugh from behind the door. “Good point,” She said, “Be grateful that you aren’t standing where I am, Harry”
“I assure you I am” He replied, grinning. Ron pushed the door open.
“You realize we’ve been waiting for you to wake up for THREE hours now?” He asked irritably.
“I’ll wonder what you’re irritated about,” Harry said innocently, “Maybe what’s on the table?” Hermione laughed.
“Sod off” Ron snorted, as the three walked downstairs. Once they reached the foot of the staircase, Harry was amazed to see that the table had been practically prepared for a feast, with an emerald coloured banner above it that read: ”Happy Birthday Harry”. He suddenly understood why Ron had been so impatient as he noticed the table was laid down with Mrs Weasley’s cooking.
“Finally!” Ron said in relief, beaming at the thought of Harry’s cake. Everyone in the room except Ron rolled their eyes knowingly, and sat down at the table. Mrs Weasley beckoned Harry to blow out the candles.
“Unless you want your lungs to seize up, Harry, I don’t suggest you try to blow out those candles.”
“Why not?”
“Think twins. Blow to the right of the candles and see what happens.”
Harry blew out the candles, albeit he missed; his blow of air went to the right slightly, and yet the candles were still diminished. Suddenly, a small orange glow engulfed the wick of each candle in turn, and a massive spray of paint went towards Fred, who had been trying to escape his seat beforehand with little success. The room burst into laughter, as did Ant’s voice.
“Try again, Fred,” Harry said, grinning widely, “You aren’t going to get those jokes on me.” Fred didn’t reply, as he was completely covered in multicoloured flashing paint.
“How did you know we jinxed those candles, Harry?” George asked, a mixture of awe and confusion written on his face.
“I’m good at finding your pranks,” Harry replied, “I’ve seen half of them in the shop, anyway.” George seemed to find this answer satisfactory, and went back to trying to vanish the paint off of Fred’s jumper. Harry began to cut a large slice out of his cake when he noticed George looking at him in a very suspicious way.
“I wonder what that look might mean, Harry. What do you think?”
“That the cake is cursed or something?”
“That’s the one. You know that instrument in your left pocket?”
“Hold on a minute, all my pockets are empty”
“Not if I say so. Take that instrument out of your left pocket, point it at the cake and say ‘quontus’”
Harry felt around in his left trouser pocket, and he nearly jumped when he felt a metal object there. It was as cold as ice.
“And make sure no one sees you.” Harry slowly pulled the instrument out of his pocket. Somehow, the moment it came out of his pocket, he knew exactly how it worked; he pointed the thin end at the cake and muttered ‘quontus’ under his breath. The knife that had been laid next to the cake jumped up and sliced a fairly sized wedge of the cake out, which seemingly levitated itself onto his plate. Harry smiled maliciously at the Weasley twins who were looking at him in confusion.
“As I said, you aren’t going to get me with one of your pranks,” Harry said slowly, relishing every word, “So stop trying.”
“Or rather,” Remus interrupted, laughing, “You aren’t going to get Ant with one of those pranks. Quontus is a demonic spell, isn’t it, Albus?”
“I’m not certain, Remus, I haven’t read up on them in decades” Came Albus’s response from the other end of the table.
“It is,” Ant’s voice replied conveniently from the ceiling, “And it seems to have done quite well.”
“You can’t possibly give Harry a device like that!” Remus exclaimed.
“It isn’t your choice what I give Harry, Remus,” Ant’s voice said irritably. “And anyway, I didn’t give it to him permanently. If you haven’t already noticed it isn’t there any more.”
“It’s still highly dangerous, Anthony,” Professor Dumbledore stated. “I don’t think-“
“I don’t think what you have to tell me is of any value, Professor,” Ant’s voice spat back at him, “I think you should consider yourself lucky that I haven’t killed you already for what you’ve done.”
“What are you implying, Anthony? I haven’t-“
“You’ve got some bloody nerve to say that, Professor,” Ant’s voice interrupted. “Thanks to you, at least ten of Harry’s friends have been put in a fatal situation, Harry himself has been on the verge of death several times, and we’ve lost our godfather. And now, you sit here, trying to tell me that you haven’t DONE anything?!”
“Perhaps I have made my mistakes, but they weren’t exactly your commands, were they?” Professor Dumbledore replied in a shaky voice, having already lost his cool demeanor. This unnerved the rest of the table; they hadn’t ever seen Dumbledore lose his calm front before.
“Do you remember what my will stated, Professor?” Ant’s voice asked. “The will of Kevin Pillbeam, I mean?”
“N-Yes,” Albus stated, changing his decision mid-word.
“EXACTLY!” Ant’s voice roared, and every person sat at the table recoiled in fear. “AND YET STILL YOU MAKE THE SAME STUPID MISTAKES! HOW MANY MORE PEOPLE MUST DIE BEFORE THE MESSAGE DRILLS ITSELF INTO YOUR HEAD?” Dumbledore sat with an expression of the utmost fear and guilt, and was completely lost for words. “Just be glad I’m not coming back into Hogwarts for another three weeks. I’ll return when I’ve calmed down a little… but when I do return, ensure that Professor Dumbledore’s voice doesn’t reach my ears. It might not be good for his health.” Professor Dumbledore sighed heavily.
A single tear slowly fell down Remus’s cheek. He wore an expression which was a mixture of anger and sorrow, and he was looking in Albus’s direction.