✯ ✯ ✯
As luck would have it, the first class on Antares' schedule was a double block of Potions. After conferring with Professor McGonagall, or technically now, Minerva, he had been excused from certain classes on Harry's schedule. Dumbledore had listened to his earlier request and removed him from any History of Magic or Divination classes. He felt his reason for missing the latter of the two subjects was rather obvious. Antares had nothing against Sybil Trelawney personally, but he, and most of the Augurs, felt that she was wasting her time at Hogwarts. Her talent was true, something Antares learned during his fourth year when she gave a prediction to Adrian Pucey.
I fear you'll never see a happy summer again. Beware the swooping talons, my dear.
No one in the class had a clue what she was talking about. It all came crashing down later in the spring when Pucey forgot the birthday of Evelyn Summers, his then-girlfriend. After that, Antares, Cassius Warrington and a handful of Slytherins thought the 'summer' part was self-explanatory. Then later, Pucey returned to the common room with a bright red handprint blazing on his face. A small cut resided below his cheek, presumably where Summers' ring had caught him. It didn't occur to Pucey that Trelawney was right until Cassius pointed out that he looked like he got clawed in the face. It also didn't help that Summers was a Ravenclaw.
Antares chuckled at the thought. It was the last time he questioned one of Sybil's predictions.
Even though he didn't particularly enjoy her class, he did have to thank her. Antares wouldn't have been half as prepared for his ascendancy without Trelawney's bizarre personality and her spontaneous mood changes. Sybil's cryptic teachings taught him the importance of interpreting signs and symbols, of delving into the depths of abstract meaning.
Antares was fourteen when he first started having visions. It couldn't have been more than a month after the "Unhappy Summer" when it happened. If he had to guess, it must have been sometime in mid-March— he couldn't really remember. The whole month was exhaustingly disorienting.
It was a tumultuous period for both him and his mother. At the time, Antares didn't understand what was happening to him. All he did know was that it would happen whenever he least expected it. The first onslaught was powerful enough to land him in the hospital wing for a day. He thought he had inhaled some powder from an Exploding Ginger Eyelash during Herbology. Antares didn't think anything of it. Professor Sprout said that he would experience mild headaches at most. He didn't expect to hallucinate, to be assaulted by flashes of things that weren't there and of people he didn't know. Not knowing what to do, he wrote home.
The next thing he knew, Professor Snape had excused him from a week of classes. When Antares asked why, his Head of House flashed him a letter written and signed by Taoiseach Marissa Ann of Clann Kelly. It wasn't much by way of explanation, and it only confused him further. His mother just used the title of their House to pull rank on his professor. It was a title so ancient and formal that it faded around the same time his great-great grandparents moved to Australia.
It made Antares worried.
During this long week away, Marissa explained everything— the Circle, the Augurs, painting the very picture of their ancestral blood. He discovered that he wasn't alone in his abilities and that the people he grew up around his whole life would be the ones to help him. The hallucinations, or visions, were no longer a burden; it was a purpose, a calling.
Nicholas Caverly, an older seer, was the one to deduce that Antares was able to "see" through touch. Caverly's visions manifested through eye contact, making it difficult for him to maintain normal relationships. Antares also learned that Lucas Eldine, Cole's father, is also a seer and would go into a trance-like state of daydreaming when he had visions. Lucas went on to explain that his gift of foresight was why he had a difficult time raising Cole. And while Antares could sympathize, he didn't mind. He got a brother out of it.
Antares made quick work of assembling a list of supplies he would need. He had all of his old school books, from first to seventh year, neatly stacked on a single-row bookshelf. Later, he would place a shrinking charm on it so it would fit in his luggage.
He should probably tell Harry that he won't be joining him on the train to Hogwarts. As faculty, Antares needed to be there for final preparation before classes started. Not to mention, there was also a staff meeting he was required to attend.
As he thumbed through the rest of his belongings, a knock on the parted bedroom door caught his attention.
"Come in," Antares called, not bothering to greet whomever it was.
Hermione and Ginny entered the room, exchanging glances before addressing Antares. They both looked anxious, Ginny less so, as if they were hesitant to approach him.
"Antares, we need to talk to you," Hermione began, her tone earnest.
Antares straightened his back, setting aside the assortment of quills he was organizing. "About what exactly?"
Ginny stepped forward, her expression slightly exasperated. "It's Harry," she said bluntly. "He's been sulking ever since our Hogwarts letters arrived. It's sad, really."
The older boy quirked an eyebrow. "And what am I supposed to do about it?"
Antares leaned against the ornate bedframe, folding his arms across his chest. He observed Ginny and Hermione with a sharp expression, waiting for them to continue.
Ginny huffed, exchanging a brief glance with Hermione.
"We thought maybe you could talk to him," Hermione pleaded. "You two have a connection, and he might open up to you."
"A connection," Antares repeated, his voice mocking.
"He's barely talked to anyone around here since the trial," Ginny revealed. "For some daft reason, he trusts you of all people."
Harry barely knew him, and it's not as if they've had riveting conversations either. Antares had never made a conscious effort to befriend Harry. In fact, he had intentionally kept his distance.
"She's not lying," Hermione agreed. "Harry does trust you."
"Says you," Antares scoffed.
"Says Harry," Ginny said adamantly.
"Look, I appreciate your faith in me," Antares exhaled, "but I don't know what you expect me to do. I'm not a therapist."
"I didn't realize being a decent human being required a Ph.D.," Ginny sneered.
"How do you know what a Ph.D. is?" the Slytherin retorted.
"We're not asking you to solve his problems," Hermione interrupted patiently. "We were just hoping that you could get him to talk."
Antares let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. He could see the genuine concern in Hermione's eyes and the frustration in Ginny's. Though, the latter was likely because of him.
"Fine," he relented, his voice laced with resignation, "but I make no promises."
Hermione's eyes lit up, a bright spark of hope that Antares found utterly disgusting.
Ginny uncrossed her arms, still looking skeptical. "Just don't mess it up," she warned, her tone softer than before.
He watched them leave, his shoulders sagging once they cleared the doorway. Bloody Gryffindors, he thought.
Talking to Harry wouldn't be easy, and he had a nagging feeling that it would more than likely be an argument. He once told Harry that if he asked for the truth, then he would get it. Antares could understand, he supposed, the need for balance. But as he stood there, staring at the worn wallpaper of his father's room, he couldn't help but feel uneasy.
Secrets tore his family apart, as they did Harry's, but Harry didn't realize that the truth, accepted or not, had a way of unravelling everything. It already had. The illusion caved in on itself the second he stepped into Grimmauld Place.
✯ ✯ ✯
Antares found Harry in the master bedroom, sitting cross-legged aside Buckbeak as he read a tattered copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. He stepped into the master bedroom, the heavy door creaking softly behind him when he closed it. The room felt still, almost sacred. Antares hadn't dared to enter the room before today, feeling that it was better left unseen.
Buckbeak's head rose from the floor, now aware of the intruder in his nest. Antares stilled, unsure of how Buckbeak would react to his presence. He was a magnificent creature. His piercing gaze looked on cautiously.
Harry looked up from the page he was idling, surprise colouring his face. He was probably expecting Ron or maybe Sirius.
"Antares," he greeted.
Antares took a cautious step forward, keeping a respectful distance from Buckbeak, who squawked indignantly at the movement.
"You have to bow," Harry told him. "Malfoy didn't, and he got clawed."
Antares blinked, caught off guard by Harry's remark. He glanced at Buckbeak, who watched him intently as if awaiting his response. He remembered vaguely learning about Hippogriffs, but Care of Magical Creatures wasn't a subject which held his interest.
"Right," he said, his voice calm.
Placing his palm on his stomach, Antares adjusted himself into a polite bow, keeping his eyes on Buckbeak. It wasn't a deep bow, more like a gesture of recognition, an acknowledgment to the majestic creature before him.
It reminded Harry of something he had seen before. Malfoy had the same posture, if a little more lax. He'd seen it at the Quidditch World Cup. Harry snorted internally. He reckoned that Malfoy would rather die kicking and screaming before he bowed to anyone. He thought Antares would have been the same. It made sense— they were both purebloods and Slytherins at that. However, Harry couldn't deny that Antares was more agreeable than Malfoy.
Buckbeak hissed in displeasure, a warning to back away, but Antares didn't falter. The moment stretched, a silent standoff, and finally, Buckbeak huffed. He crossed his front legs, flashing talons, and lowered his head in acceptance. Nudging Harry, the beast continued watching Antares with a more relaxed posture.
"What are you doing here?" the younger boy asked.
Refraining from his usual mockery, Antares jumped straight to the point. "You need to lighten up," he declared.
"Lighten up?" Harry said defensively. "What makes you say that?"
"Ginevra says you've been moping around the house," Antares shrugged.
Harry's face scrunched at the use of Ginny's full name. "Since when do you talk to Ginny?"
"Since about twenty minutes ago," the older boy said, "when she and Granger demanded that I talk to you."
Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "They asked you to talk to me?"
Antares nodded, clicking his teeth. "Apparently, they think I have some magical power to make you spill your darkest secrets."
"They think highly of me, don't they?" Harry replied, a touch of sarcasm in his tone.
"I could always imperio you into talking," Antares offered, "but I'd prefer to stay out of Azkaban."
Harry's eyes widened. "Would you actually?" he asked curiously.
Antares rolled his eyes. Of course, that's what Golden Boy would get stuck on. "Just tell me what's on your mind."
Harry hesitated, wrestling with his thoughts. He closed the book in his lap, fidgeting with the frayed edges of its spine. As Harry did so, Antares placed himself on the stool from the nearby vanity.
"They don't trust me," Harry breathed.
Antares hummed to himself. He had an inkling that this was what had Harry in a mood.
"It's like they think I can't handle the truth or that I'll just mess things up," the Gryffindor continued.
"It's the Order's job to protect you," Antares reminded. "Dumbledore is doing what he thinks is best."
"How would I know?" Harry fumed. "Dumbledore doesn't even acknowledge that I'm here. He was there at the trial and didn't speak a single word to me!"
Harry shot up from his position on the floor, anger present in his steps. "He comes here for Order meetings, which I never get to attend, even though it's me you're all talking about. Then, Dumbledore decides to make Ron prefect instead of me," he threw his arms up, still clutching the book in one hand. "He studies less than I do!"
Antares watched Harry's outburst with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. The frustration in Harry's voice was undeniable, something Antares had recognized in himself more than a few times.
"I can't tell you why Dumbledore is..." Antares paused, "ignoring you because, frankly, I don't know. What I do know is that they— we, are trying to keep you from going out and trying to fight Voldemort on your own."
"Why would I do that?" Harry said, puzzled.
"Let's see," Antares said, crossing his arms. "You tried to stop Quirrell from taking the sorcerer's stone. You dove headfirst into the Chamber of Secrets and almost died trying to fight a basilisk. You were caught out past curfew on your own despite the fact a mass murderer was on the loose—"
"But Sirius wasn't trying to kill me," Harry interrupted.
"I wasn't talking about Sirius," Antares snapped. "Pettigrew could have killed you just as easily."
Harry's anger seemed to deflate, replaced by a weariness that spoke volumes. He sank onto the dusty bed, carelessly tossing the book to the side.
"I'm just tired of being treated like a liability, Antares," Harry admitted. "They act like I'm a child, and I hate it."
"You're what? Fourteen? Fifteen? You are, by definition, a child," Antares mused.
Harry let out a small huff of annoyance. "That's not what I mean," he clarified. "I've faced Voldemort more times than anyone in the Order has, and I've survived."
"Yes, we get it. You're a walking miracle," droned Antares. "That doesn't mean you're invincible."
His remark came out sharper than intended, but Harry didn't mind. The boy just sighed, running a hand through his messy hair.
"If you want them to stop treating you like a child, show them you can handle situations with a level head," Antares advised. "Prove them wrong."
Buckbeak chirped as if he was agreeing with what Antares said. Harry reached down, burying his hand into the soft feathers, mulling over the words. He seemed to take them to heart, which Antares was relieved to see. He was about to excuse himself from the room when Harry piped up again.
"What happened?" he asked. "Between you and Sirius, I mean."
"Nothing," Antares denied. "Why do you ask?"
"You said you would tell me the truth," Harry pressed.
The older boy bit his lip. Damn him. He knew he had promised to be honest, but that didn't mean he was eager to share the details of his argument with Sirius.
"We had a disagreement of sorts," he revealed.
Harry snorted. "I got that."
Antares sighed. "Sirius is afraid of losing you. I didn't realize how much until I asked him about it, which started the argument."
Harry stared at him like a lightbulb just flicked on. "Hermione said that Sirius acts like he thinks that I'm my father and not me."
"As I said, he's afraid," Antares murmured tiredly. "You're all he has left."
✯ ✯ ✯
More about Ares' upbringing! Also, I'm not Irish in any way, so please correct me if there is something inaccurate.
Also, the term Taoiseach in modern times is the addressing of the Irish Prime Minister, but in historical context it simply means chieftain or leader!
And Ares can solve everyone's problems but his own. JUST LIKE YOU! But hey, at least he and Harry are able to have decent conversations now.
Be sure to VOTE and COMMENT to show your support. FEEDBACK is always appreciated and feel free to ask any questions you may have!
~Hircines