Death's Gift - Chapter Eight
A Deal with the Enemy
"Who's she?" Blaise asked once Harry had sat down.
"My friend Hermione."
"The one Weasel called a muggle?" Draco asked, somewhat disgusted.
"Yeah."
"So she's a mudblood." The blond drawled.
"Don't call her that." Harry shot at him.
"Why? I'm just saying what she is. No need to get so defensive."
"My mother was a muggle born." Harry reminded him.
Draco paled, "Oh- I forgot."
"Mhm." Harry pulled out a book.
"Do you even know why we call them that?" Blaise asked.
Harry thought back to the books he'd read from the black library, "Yes, and I understand calling someone a blood traitor as well. The term mudblood though is just very harsh and rude. Name calling is unnecessary and makes you come off as childish and immature."
"Says the guy who used cooties as an excuse not to hang out with people until he was ten."
Harry looked up from his book to see Theo taking a seat in front of him. He smirked.
"I like to think of it as prolonging youths fantasies actually."
Blaise chuckled and shook his head, "Of course you do."
"Mr. Zabini."
Everyone turned to see Snape with a stack of papers in his hand.
"Your time table."
Blaise took it from him, "Thanks Professor."
"Mr. Potter-Black, yours."
Harry grabbed his own from Snape, "Thank you Professor."
Snape's eyes lingered on Harry for a moment longer before moving on to Draco. Harry shrugged it off and went back to his book, only to be drawn from it by Draco telling him that the food had appeared. They ate in relative silence until the chorus of flapping wings and boots came. Hedwig dropped a letter off in front of Harry before nudging his hand and helping herself to some of his food. Amused, Harry picked up the letter.
Harry,
You're a Slytherin?! Not that there's anything wrong with that, there isn't, it's just that we were almost positive you were going to be a Ravenclaw! Guess we'll have to make your curtains green instead of blue. Watch out for Snivillus (Snape). He hated all of our guts during school and will probably hate you too because of it, he's not one to let go of grudges. Hope you make some new friends, it's already weird without you here. Keep us updated on all of your to be pranks with the twins.
Sirius and Remus
P.S. Remus is still very on edge about the bet you two made, you'll make a great seeker -Sirius
I'm not on edge - Remus
Harry smiled at his adoptive parents. Setting the letter down he picked up his copy of the daily prophet. Sure enough, him being sorted into Slytherin was on the front page.
He groaned, "Blaise, please don't tell me you're some kind of seer too."
The boy in question unfrocked his own newspaper, smiling a bit, "None of the sort, just smart."
Harry rolled his eyes and started reading, expecting the worse. Although, nothing that bad came, sure there was the stuff about him possibly hanging out with Death Eaters, or how he might get up trouble in the school, or how he might be just like a pure-blood with the same prejudices, but Harry was just glad that no one was comparing him to Voldemort. Harry paused, in this life the only thing Harry had in common with Voldemort was being sorted into Slytherin. He smirked on the inside, that wouldn't be a problem this time around, well, unless it got out that he was a parselmouth again, which he wasn't planing to let happen.
. . . . . . .
Harry made his way through the halls to his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He'd just come from double potions with the Gryffindor's. Snape hadn't said anything at his name this time but continued right along with the list. Harry had sat with Neville, seeing as he hadn't really talked to his Godbrother yet, much to the classes confusion. Gryffindors and Slytherins had a a huge feud so they were all surprised to see two laughing with each other. They'd been the first to finish, their potion being perfect, Harry even managing to explain everything to Neville in a way that made sense to the boy. Harry entered the classroom and took a seat with Blaise and Draco. He still didn't know what to do about Quirllmort (as he liked to call them) and he really didn't want anything to do with them. Though, Harry had forgotten how absolutely unbearable and incredibly annoying Quirll's fake stutter was, he felt bad for everyone who had no clue what he was teaching, those who didn't already know the whole course.
After half an hour of listening to Quirll ramble on Harry dragged his hands down his face, if only he could make some sort of deal with Voldemort just so that he'd loose the stutter. Harry straightened up, that was it! He could make some sort of deal with Voldemort and get him to leave him alone until he graduated! In that time he could collect all of the Horcruxes and kill Voldemort as soon as he was away from Hogwarts. Then the school wouldn't be in rubbles and he'd be able to have a regular school experience without fearing for his life every year. Though Harry would need something to give in return, there's no way Voldemort would leave him alone if he just asked nicely. The stone! That was what Voldemort was at the school for in the first place! Besides, it wouldn't matter if he came back now or in fourth year through the ritual that he'd done. Harry was so exited he almost didn't notice his stuttered name being called to answer a question.
By the time class was over Harry had a plan thought out, it helped that he didn't have to pay any attention since he already knew everything. He stuck around and waited for everyone to leave, telling Blaise, Draco, and Theo that he'd meet them in Charms, their next class.
"Professor? Do you have a minute? I'd like to speak with you."
"O-Of course, M-Mr. P-P-Potter-Black."
Harry flicked his wrist, the door locked and and he cast a mufflentio charm around them.
"Both of you." He clarified.
Quirll's eyes widened and a low chuckle came from beneath the turban.
"Let me see him." A hoarse voice came.
Quirll hesitated but he unraveled his turban, turning around to reveal Voldemort's deformed face on the back of his head. Crimson eyes looked Harry up and down, eventually meeting his own. Harry raised an eyebrow.
"I can't believe I thought this was creepy last time. This, is just sad. Also, I know I should probably say something along the lines of 'how are you in the back of my professors head' or something like that but I gotta ask, how do you sleep? Like, does Quirll ever just roll over and squish your face into the pillows?"
Voldemort glared at him, "Do you see what you've reduced me too?"
"That doesn't answer my sleeping question-"
"How do you know about me?" Voldemort said, changing the subject.
Harry smiled, "Some would say I'm a seer."
"But you do not?"
Harry paused to think, "Maybe a little bit? But I can tell you that I'm someone who doesn't want to get killed a virgin again."
This time Voldemort raised an eyebrow, well, if he had one that is.
"Long story, the fact of the matter is that I want to make a deal with you."
"What kind of deal?" Voldemort asked, intrigued.
"You promise not to make any attempt on my life while I'm in school and in return, I'll give you the stone."
Voldemort's eyes widened, "And how would a mere child such as yourself manage to get the stone?"
Harry faked a look of flattery, "Oh wow, do I really look young enough to be called a child? I'm flattered."
Voldemort glared at him again.
"You're the one here doubting my abilities when as of the last time I checked, I got rid of you as a baby."
The glare intensified.
"I won't be able to retro the stone until after Christmas, I have to wait for Dumbledore to move it."
"And how can I believe that you mean what you say?" Voldemort asked.
Harry smirked, "That's the fun part. If I don't get the stone in time and give it to you, I'll let you kill me." Harry knew he would just ask death to bring him back to the moment he died and pop back up good as new, "I mean, with how you are now, you could use a win."
"I do not need your pity." Voldemort hissed.
"Sure, sure, whatever you have to tell yourself. Now, do we have a deal?"
Voldemort was silent for a moment, "Only if you tell me how you acquired all of your knowledge of me and my plans."
"The Quirll has to stop the fake stutter, honestly, it's beyond annoying."
"We have a deal."
The air around them snapped and Harry smirked. This action took Voldemort by surprise. The man narrowed his eyes at Harry.
"You magically bounded our deal?"
"Yup. You don't have the best track record of keeping your word, besides, this way neither of us can even imply anything about this little deal."
"Speak."
"Geeze, ok. It's pretty simple really. This is my second life. I'm actually thirty-six, not eleven. In my first go around I was placed under multiple compulsions and blocks by Dumbledore. I was sorted into Gryffindor and later manipulated into coming after you. Found out about the stone, thought Snape was trying to steal it, found out it was Quirll instead who had you residing in the back of his head. We faced off, I defeated you again by touching Quirll's face and him crumbling to ash, which by the way is really unnerving and I don't understand why no one even mentioned that. Anyway I grew up to be twenty-six before I get killed by Ron, who was my best friend before, after I killed him."
Voldemort didn't respond.
"Now that that's all settled, I need a note to give to Flitwick."
Quirll wrote up a quick note and handed it to Harry. Right before the teen was about to open the door Voldemort spoke.
"You have no idea how much joy it will bring me to see you die in my hands when you do not deliver the stone Harrison Potter-Black."
"Be sure to make it extra painful, I'd like to go out with a bang." Harry said cheerfully before walking out towards charms.
. . . . . . .
Even though first years weren't allowed to have their own brooms Harry and Draco still constantly challenged each other in races, issuing the school brooms instead. Harry never lost, completely surprising everyone with how good his was. It had become a topic he and Draco talk about a lot, flying and quidditch.
"Are you trying out for quidditch this year Harry? Draco asked him at dinner.
"Yeah."
"Why? First years never get chosen to be on a team." Blaise stated as if it was obvious.
"You've seen him fly." Draco pointed out.
"Finally admitting that I'm better than you, huh Draco?" Harry teased.
Draco scoffed, crossing his arms and putting his nose in the air, "You wish, just wait and see. Next year I'll be beating you out for the seeker position."
"I look forward to it. I'll have a good laugh watching you fail."
Draco was going to reply when Dumbledore stood up to announce that Quidditch tryouts would be taking place over the next week before food appeared.
The next day Harry stood out on the feild, a Clean Sweep in his right hand. He took a deep breath of the afternoon air.
"And what's a little firsty like you doing out here." A boy Harry recognized as Flint sneered.
"Looking for land elves to map their territory." Harry said sarcastically.
Flint raised an eyebrow.
"Trying out for the quidditch team, should be fairly obvious." He drawled.
Flint scoffed, "Whatever, this'll be a good laugh. What position?"
"Seeker."
Flint smirked, "Good luck, we've already got the best seeker there is."
"I'm sure."
Flint narrowed his eyes, "Go get in line!"
A few minutes later tryouts began and Harry was soon facing off with Christian Mingles, a seventh year as well as the current seeker. Seeing as Harry was the only one trying out for seeker, they were having a one on one, whoever could catch the snitch first. They both flew up to the seeker's starting point, Christian riding a Nimbus 2000 and Harry knew he wouldn't be able to beat him in a race. Just seconds later the snitch was released, they both waited until the quaffle was "released", as they'd have to in a game, before taking off. Harry circled the pitch, out of the corner of his eye spotting a gold flash down near the ground. He immediately took off, up into the sky, a second later he reached out as if reaching for the snitch. Just as he'd planned Christian zoomed passed him and Harry quickly dived to where the snitch really was, Christian not noticing until it was too late and he was going way too fast with his advanced speed to immediately change direction completely, as Harry had, without flying off his broom. Harry willed his broom to go faster as he shot towards the ground, reaching out for the real snitch. His fingers rapping around it, he jerked his broom upwards, making it stop just a foot above the ground, pulling off a perfect reverse Wronski Feint. Harry slid off of his broom, holding out the small winged ball he'd caught.
Christian landed his broom next to him, "That was a clever play." He admitted.
Harry smiled.
"You've got skills Potter." Flint said as if the mere thought made him want to puke, "But there's no way we'll win with you in a faulty Clean Sweep."
"No problem, I made a deal with my father that if I made the team he'd have to buy me a Nimbus 2000."
Christian raised an eyebrow at Harry's use of the word "father", "First years aren't allowed to have brooms."
"I've got some non-first year friends that'll let me "borrow" it for games."
Flint and Christian exchanged a look.
"Welcome to the team Harrison." Flint said reluctantly.