In the last chapter: Harry's year starts out busier than ever and he finds himself trying to juggle all of his duties at once. After a horrible prank played on Luna, Harry steps in and lays down the law by warning the other Ravenclaws that there would be consequences to bullying, especially within their own house. Harry meets Buckbeak. Bellatrix is spotted in London. Harry takes up trying to learn the Patronus charm. Harry has his first encounter with a Boggart and things go from bad to worse when Anthony has a rather awful experience then Harry's Boggart turns out to be highly personal and he is temporarily enraged at the whole mess.
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Hallowe'en draped itself over the giddy castle and for all else, was a time of celebration and festivity, all except for Harry Potter. It wasn't necessarily the anniversary of his parent's demise that had gotten to him. No, it was the cold claws of apprehension that dug into his gut at knowing his track record with that date, mixed with the magical and unpredictable school was not so great. The troll his first year, Ginny his second. It spelled trouble for his third.
As loathsome as he was to admit it, Harry was surprisingly superstitious for a Ravenclaw. Be it the years before Hogwarts when his life was filled with dangerous and suspiciously coincidental 'accidents' or his recent dabbling in the necromantic arts, he had plenty of reason for caution. Even though Harry had yet to learn the magic behind necromancy, his frequent contact with Death was in itself a form of necromancy of the purest standard. The forbidden branch of magic was very old—arguably the oldest—and not nearly as limited in its rules and confines as modern magic was, which made it far more unpredictable and a field in which superstition was encouraged—for the safety of the caster if nothing else.
It was for that low current of embarrassing superstition that Harry had decided to opt out of the first Hogsmead trip of the year—much to his friend's disappointment—and instead spend the day with his guardian. Remus had more than welcomed the company, but for different reasons. It didn't need to be specified which, because the somber mood he'd found the man in was all the indicator Harry needed. Remus was thinking about the two close friends he'd lost twelve years ago. Harry didn't blame him, if he had any memories of his parents, he would probably be in the same state.
So, instead of venturing out of the castle with more than half of the student populace on that bitter cold and windy day, the pair stayed holed up in Remus's personal quarters. Harry had given the man a funny look when he quickly changed into worn pajamas, slippers, and a bath robe with a steaming cup of something frothy and faintly spice-scented. Yet, not long after, Harry found himself in a similar state; wearing Remus' warm shrunken plaid pajamas and slippers with his own warm drink as they watched a few muggle films and at one point had an open floo call with Sirius so that the other guardian could be partly included in the laid-back activities.
Harry often found himself smiling unknowingly and thanking the Fates that they had brought together the small, yet no less real family after a decade of separation and loss.
Harry would take it to his grave, but every time Remus wandered out to get something or go to the bathroom, Harry would secretly pull the collar of his borrowed shirt up to his nose and breathe in the familiar scent of his guardian. He never knew how comforting a smell could be until he began finding people important enough to cherish something so small about them as their scent. Forcing the pathways to form in his brain, Harry committed the scent to memory and to never let it fade from his depraved brain. Smell was the strongest and longest lasting sensory stimulus for memory, and Harry never wanted to forget the precious moments he spent with his guardians.
...
A few weeks later was the first quidditch match of the year, and the day before just so happened to be the full moon. With Remus' usual replacement for the full moon sick, they were stuck with the brooding professor Snape as their instructor. Severus Snape had been entirely too obvious when he deliberately skipped entire chapters in the book to focus on werewolves. Those who remembered the connection between the current topic and Harry's guardian looked highly uncomfortable on his behalf, while everyone else looked confused.
Harry's protectiveness flared when he realized what was happening and he'd immediately and defiantly pointed out the illogical lesson plan with a narrowed gaze directed at the professor. Snape had sneered down at him and deducted points for speaking out of turn, causing Michael to scoff from his spot in the back of the class and mutter something undoubtedly nasty about Harry under his breath.
When Snape assigned the ridiculously long essay on how to identify a werewolf, the Hufflepuff students collectively groaned in defeat, as it was their team playing Gryffindor the following day and there would hardly be time to write two feet by the next DADA class.
Again, Harry silently fumed at the thought of Remus coming back from something as horrible and traumatic as the full moon and having to grade essay after essay about how to identify 'his kind.' Harry was thoroughly tempted to either throttle the vindictive professor, or incendio the essays before Remus saw them. Harry knew it was an irrational thought and that Remus could fight his own battles, but that didn't take any of the conviction out of the third year.
Despite his anger, Harry couldn't do anything outright to the professor, so he took his small revenge in the only way he could think of. Employing the help of his perpetually bored companion, Harry discretely watched the professor in benevolent amusement as his friend drifted a little too close to the edge of the veil behind the man and caused him to shudder, frown, and pull his robes a little closer. It didn't look like much, but Harry knew that the older man's pride was the only thing keeping him from shivering and turning pale from the bone-deep cold Death could induce, much like the Dementors, but on a less physical and more psychological level.
'Let the bastard think that a pack of Dementors are nipping at his heels! Serves him right.' Harry thought bitterly as he felt his friend return, absently noting the shiver that ran through a Ravenclaw sitting a few seats down—they were the closest person to Harry at the Great Hall table, since it was early and none of Harry's friends had arrived just yet.
'My, I do hope more foolish humans plan on stepping on your toes, I could use the entertainment.' Death sighed with great misfortune and Harry restrained from rolling his eyes.
'Perhaps if you were more forthcoming with the locations of the Horcruxes, things would be a bit more interesting.' Harry deadpanned, feeling the familiar itch under his skin to act and continue hunting down the pieces of Voldemort's soul. Death didn't reply for a contemplative moment.
'Point taken. Find a time to get off school grounds and I'll tell you where to go.' Death's tone was as casual and uncaring as usual when giving up important information.
'The next chance I have to get away is the next Hogsmead visit, which is a week before winter break. I can work with that.' Harry began to sift through the details of how he would slip away from the crowd during the visit, so his friend didn't bother speaking again and just silently slipped away to continue his current pastime of watching over the pathetic form the once great Dark Lord had taken as of late.
...
As the fall term dragged on into colder, more monotone months, Harry forced his mind to focus on his studies and practicing to bide his time until the next Hogsmead trip. His routine was only broken a few weeks before break when he was on his way to lunch and was snatched from the hall to be dragged gently into an empty classroom. Harry was on the verge of cursing head from shoulders when he saw who had plucked him from his path. Harry adopted a bemused expression that the grinning Weasley twins paid no mind to.
"And what wicked scheme have I been forced into now?" The raven-haired boy drawled sarcastically, pulling expressions of synchronized mock-offense from the twins.
"We do not appreciate that tone young man!" The one on the left scolded.
"Yeah! And after we went through all this trouble to try to give you a Christmas gift!" The twin on the right jumped in and they nodded once at the same time as if to agree with each other.
Harry quirked a brow and studied the pair skeptically. Although they often plopped down with his group to catch up, share gossip, or peddle their pranks, Harry couldn't say that he was particularly close with either of them. He was closer friends with Ginny, and that relationship was still only teetering on the edge between acquaintanceship and friendship. Heeding their infamy and not lowering his guard, Harry conceded.
"What gift?" the question was met with matching feral grins and Harry already began to curse his curiosity. Before he could take it back and duck out of the classroom, the twin on the left shoved a folded piece of parchment wrapped in an uneven bow under Harry's nose. Frowning, Harry slowly took the parchment and pulled off the silky red ribbon and unfolded it. When he verified that it was, indeed blank, Harry looked back up at the twins expectantly.
With a mischievous smirk, the one on the right pressed the tip of his wand to the center of the parchment and spoke clearly.
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
Harry's brows rose in tandem as ink appeared on the parchment—reminding him of the diary back at Grimmauld Place an awful lot. Fascinated, Harry watched as the parchment turned into a living map of the school formed by various runes and written spells marking outlines and structures. George and Fred taught Harry how to use the map and everything they knew about it. Harry had to admit he was very impressed, the map was incredibly valuable, no doubt. However, Harry's suspicion didn't abate.
"Why are you giving this to me?" He inquired hesitantly. The twins glanced at each other before turning back to Harry and shrugging in their answer.
"You saved our dorky little sister. We don't want to think about what would have happened if you hadn't found her, but even then, you didn't just save her life and move on, you pulled her into your little group and made her feel welcome. This is sort of our way of saying 'thank you.'" Harry was shocked by the sudden sincerity in the redhead's tone.
"Yeah, and besides, after we heard about Sirius Black's trial we realized that it didn't really belong to us." The other twin shrugged again.
"How do you mean?"
In place of answering, the twin who'd spoken last reached forward and began folding the map in Harry's hands. When he was done, Harry stared wide-eyed down at the large 'Marauders' title inked over the parchment flaps, along with all of the nicknames of the members. They had created something like this?!
Harry starred at the name for a long moment before looking back up at the twins and giving them an appreciative smile. Harry tapped the map with his own wand and cleared the writing with the incantation.
"We would have given it to you sooner, but we had a few last pranks that required it and couldn't pass up the opportunity." The twins looked a little sheepish, but Harry just waved it off.
A spontaneous idea popping into his head, Harry quickly dug in his bag and pulled out a scrap of parchment and refilling-quill. Quickly scribbling something down, Harry handed the scrap over to the twins and smirked at their confused expressions.
"A nifty little spell I came across in my . . . extracurricular studies. It allows the caster to plant images in the mind of their victim, like a random thought popping up." Harry met the deviously gleaming eyes of the twins and reflected their grins. "I figure a certain favorite black-robed professor of ours could use some . . . unsettling images about his coworkers or even himself to keep his life interesting." The implications of Harry's words were like sweet nectar to the two pranksters. He had no doubts that whatever they concocted for dear professor Snape would be both horrifying and amazing at the same time.
"Much obliged!" They exclaimed in unison before turning back to the parchment they held between them like they were holding something invaluable.
Harry left them to it and smiled all the way to the great hall. The spell wasn't exactly light—nor was it strictly legal—but Harry knew how clever the twins could be and was confident that they could come to the same conclusions on their own and keep the spell to themselves.
Harry's mind lingered on the map in his bag all through the day and had spent hours that night, watching in fascination as the names drifted and floated through the halls and dorm rooms until every last name had settled into a spot on the map and stilled. Oh, this will be very valuable indeed!
By the third night of watching the map, Harry made a rather impulsive decision after watching most of the castle settle into bed. Map in hand and invisibility cloak donned, Harry spelled himself quiet and crept from the dark and silent dorms. With the help of the map, Harry was able to easily make it up to the Astronomy tower without running into any patrolling prefects or staff members.
As soon as Harry entered the frost-laced classroom, He warded the door behind him and charmed his thin pajamas to radiate warmth and chase away the Scottish winter chill. Properly protected against the weather, Harry shrugged off the cloak and stepped out onto the huge balcony made to accommodate the nighttime stargazer the best that it could. Allowing his eyes to drink in every pale and flickering speck in the inky midnight blue sky was both overwhelming and disorienting in the best of ways. A little thrill ran up Harry's spine as he swayed a little too close to the cold metal railing dividing him from open air.
Harry didn't have to wait long for the reason for his late-night visit to appear. A different kind of cold seeped through his warming charms like ink on wet parchment and Harry settled into the familiar sensation as he spotted a few shadows pulling away from the dark sky to descend on his tower. This time, closer to half a dozen dementors approached curiously, but most of them kept their distance while one was bold enough to drift right up to Harry.
{You are the strange Death child} The creature stated bluntly and Harry just nodded in return, causing a few of the others to lean in a little more eagerly at witnessing the young boy understand one of their own. {Young necromancer, where have you learned our language?}
{Death has brought me into this world with a task to complete. He has lent me his magic in order to do just that, but before I can learn to use this magic, I must be able to invoke it and speak the language.} Harry answered honestly, watching the other interestedly as it absorbed his words.
{This task, what does it entail?}
Harry smiled, knowing that he technically could tell them without worry of them ever being able to pass the information on to anyone else, but that didn't make it a wise decision. They could still intervene themselves or try to hinder Harry in some way—not that Harry really thought that they would—but the risk wasn't worth satiating the dementors curiosity.
{Unfortunately, that is something that I cannot share. The nature of my objective is rather . . . sensitive, and has yet to be fulfilled. However, there is something I would like to ask you.} Harry prompted and the dementor's deformed head shifted slightly in a gesture that was almost human-like.
{Yes?}
{The witch you are hunting, have you seen her anywhere near here yet?} Harry couldn't help but inquiring, thoughts of his guardian's estranged cousin always in the back of his mind. Despite the threat she obviously posed to Harry, he wasn't fully sure what to think about the woman. According to everything he'd heard from both the media and Sirius, the witch was clearly not mentally sound to begin with, and such a long stay in Azkaban certainly wouldn't have helped that.
Though, Harry was curious to see how much she resembled the other members of her family—from the poise and proper Narcissa, to the light witch known as a blood-traitor and muggle-married-Andromeda, to the kindly but fiercely protective Sirius. Admittedly, Harry knew rather little about the three Black sisters, but there was one thing that seemed to be shared amongst them all: they were all incredibly strong willed.
What Harry did know about Bellatrix was her unconditional loyalty to her late master. With Voldemort's return, she would either become a great ally or terrible nuisance. Harry was unsure how the witch would react to Voldemort becoming more stable and possibly less violent, but one thing was for sure, Harry couldn't make odds or ends of anything until he met her. Fortunately, if everyone's paranoia was to be trusted, she would be coming to Harry sometime soon. He would just have to wait until then, be prepared, and if it turned out that she was too unstable or couldn't accept what Harry would do to her recently-discovered-alive master . . . well, then Harry would just have to deal with that when the time came.
{Ah, curious about our little escapee, are you? Yes, that one is quite . . . motivated. The ones tracking her are getting closer to this school, it won't be long until she arrives.} The dementor stated with certainty that dissolved any half-formed hope that she might be dealt with before reaching Hogwarts. He understood, though. She's far too careful to be caught while on the run, they'd have to wait until she reached her destination and risked herself by going after Harry. The dementor continued talking when Harry didn't immediately jump in.
{Tread carefully, young one. I do not know much of you, but if you are truly the one she is after, then your life is certainly at risk. Though, I supposed that my worries may be for not, since a human so young being so versed with the eternal one will have favor on his side in all matters of Death.} Amusement was not something easily conveyed in the language of the dead, and certainly not with non-human vocal cords, but somehow that's exactly what Harry heard in the end of those words.
Huffing and smiling crookedly, Harry replied with, {Thanks for the warning, but you're right, I don't have many worries in that department. . . You know, everyone thinks that dementors are just mindless dark creatures to be handled only when there's a raised wand between you. I have to ask, why do you allow it? I mean, I know that the language barrier is quite the obstacle, but there still must be another way to convey that you are intelligent beings.} Harry had been wondering since he first made contact on the train.
Harry caught a few dark shadows shifting behind the one in front of him, but he kept his focus on the one he was speaking with.
{Simple, it's just self-preservation. Nothing scares humans more than something just as smart, or smarter than them, that they can't control. It's why they slaughter each other any chance they get. It's why they set hierarchies amongst their own species and foster discrimination to keep those systems in place. Humans want to be at the very top and prefer their battles to be fought within their species, if they were to discover a dark creature that is intelligent and unable to be destroyed, it would create havoc. Discrimination far worse than any werewolf or vampire or giant. Working for the Ministry, we exist peacefully right under their noses, and if we need something done that they won't approve of, they just blame it on our nature and miniscule comprehension. We remain fed and they remain ignorant of our symbiotic relationship.}
Harry couldn't help but have the utmost respect for their decision then. It also posed a whole new avenue of opportunity for the future. The dementor's ability to move around under the Ministries' nose without worry of scrutiny could be very useful. Before the moment dragged on too long, Harry made a split-second decision and spoke up.
{In the spirit of mutually-beneficial relationships, would it be too forward of me to request that we establish something of the sort? Nothing so involved as your deal with the Ministry, but more of a 'favor-system.' In that if I ever need a favor, you might be inclined to help in exchanged for something of equal value, and vice-versa.} That certainly peaked the creature's curiosity.
{Tell me, why might a child have need of a favor from a dementor?} Harry relaxed at the fact that it didn't seem immediately opposed to the idea.
{My . . . task, is very complicated and dangerous. I am not exactly swimming in reliable allies at the moment, so it would be nice to know that I might have a bit of outside help, should I need it.} Harry watched carefully as the being seemed to deliberate, but it ended too soon for the creature to have truly been undecided at that point.
{I will agree to this deal. You will have your favors . . . within reason, of course.}
{Of course. Then, if we've come to an agreement, I'll need to know your name so that I might identify you.}
{Unlike you humans, I was not born, I am technically not even alive. My existence is less as an individual and more as a separated part of a whole—it is why humans tend to think that we dementors are more animalistic, we act more as one, like a pack might and suggests we use instinct rather than intelligence. Therefore, I have no use for a name and you will not need me specifically for your favor. This offer is on behalf of us all, speak to one of us and we all speak back through. That is why dementors don't divide and take sides, it's why we don't fight each other or have a hierarchy. So, young Harry, do not worry about names.} That was quite interesting news to Harry!
He hadn't known the dementors were closer to a 'hive-mind' rather than separate, but it did explain how they kept in touch with the ones tracking Bellatrix without any fast or obvious way of communicating. It would also make things a lot easier for Harry if he didn't have to worry about exactly which dementor he came across.
It was pure luck that the short conversation had just about drawn to a close when Harry was alerted by his wards that someone was climbing the stairs of the Astronomy tower, probably a teacher checking one last time to make sure no midnight-lovers had snuck up to the secluded spot for some privacy. Harry slipped on his invisibility cloak right after a final farewell to the dementors and dismantled his wards while he waited for whoever it was to reach the class room so he might slip past them and down the stairs.
He wasn't surprised when Snape stormed in, looking rather angry and ready to savagely strip away copious amounts of points from whatever rule-breaking students he could find. Harry was rather smug just knowing that some of the man's irritated mood came from two opportunistic red-heads that wasted no time at all experimenting with the spell Harry gave them and attacking the cruel professor with Merlin-knows-what daydreams that had the man on-edge, stiff-backed, and with a hint of 'cringe' in his usual sneer.
Harry slipped away without a sound and spent the rest of his long walk back to his dorm room thinking about the upcoming Hogsmead trip—which just happened to be the perfect opportunity to go out and get the next horcrux. In just a matter of days, he would have his hands on another piece of Voldemort's soul. If asked, Harry would lie and say that his excitement was purely objective and had nothing to do with the peace-of-mind and warm sensations he got every time he came in contact with a horcrux. He would lie even to himself and say that the . . . pleasure they elicited was not at all tempting, that his eagerness was due to his objective progressing and not the soothing effects of having such cursed objects in his proximity.
If there was one thing that Harry was very good at, it was lies.