Facing the School
Monday morning.
Yay.
Because that meant Herbology with the Puffs, followed by Care with the Slytherins. The two houses that were bound to hate Harry the most. And in Divination afterwards he would have to endure Ron’s presence. And Hermione wasn’t even in the class with him.
Hermione.
Oh.
Harry opened his eyes and recalled the conversation which took place the evening prior. He really asked her out to the ball. Bloody Gryffindor courage on occasion.
And then the other memories of the prior day surfaced again. What the hell was going on with his day, no, rather with his whole freaking life?
He got up and grabbed a fresh set of robes from his trunk before heading to the bathroom. Best not to waste time thinking about everything, that would probably keep him sane…for the time being.
A brief shower later, Harry emerged from the bathroom and headed back towards his trunk. He wanted to grab a few little things he picked up at Gringotts, simply to start working on his publicity. They didn’t want to advertise his change of status too much (not knowing whether or not Dumbledore would try and intervene), but dropping little hints for the attentive students with political knowledge would be okay. It wouldn’t take long for an older pureblooded student (like a seventh year Slytherin of a Noble House) to spot the leather wand holster or Grandpa Fleamont’s golden pocket watch, both with the Potter Coat of Arms on it, or maybe his newer robes in higher quality (Henry’s things he’d wear when he didn’t have to run around in his school robes). And then, once that happened, the scions of Noble Houses would talk about it. They’d notice his subtle hints, they’d understand that House Potter was back. And they would stay discrete, not wanting to offend a future Lord (well, he already had the title but they didn’t know that), and they would subtly make the negative rumours die down. Simply to be on Harry’s good side in the long run. That wouldn’t work with everyone of course, but it was a start.
Harry sighed.
When had his life become so confusing and filled with plotting and scheming?
Now, let’s hope neither the Puffs nor the Snakes were out for his blood today. Oh and hopefully Hermione didn’t regret anything and wouldn’t talk to him anymore. And damn, what if Sirius didn’t understand the letter?
Lucky for Harry, that was not the case though. The night prior, Sirius only needed to read once across the letter to understand most of what Harry was saying. Slowly the aftereffects of the dementors were fading and his sharp mind came back.
He immediately noticed the Fleamont Coat of Arms - which confused him. Harry hadn’t claimed any of his titles. That much he figured from what Remus told him about the school year. Not that Remus, as a halfblood from a normal wizarding family, would know much about all of this family stuff (stupid educational system…), but Sirius asked a few oddly specific questions and made a few educated guesses. No family rings, shabby clothing (purely non-magical too), not a single family item like a watch or holster, none of Henry’s tomes, nothing of James’ notes or any other inherited book, Harry didn’t even take Runes Class or was good at Potions. But nonetheless, Remus saw Harry’s natural talents in DADA, so Emrys’ gift was there. That much Sirius figured from what he heard (and saw). Gods, even the Power of Pendragon seemed to shine through in the Shrieking Shack. What a feeling that was, just like Grandfather Arcturus at family meetings.
Basically, Harry showed the innate gifts but hadn’t claimed anything. He seemed to lack access, and even knowledge of everything his family left behind, and it looked as if he was purely muggle-raised. No clue about anything then.
But now that was different. There was a Marquis de Fleamont. And it could only be Harry, because everyone else was dead. But Harry, he couldn’t be the Marquis, he was too young. So Sirius immediately checked the signature of the letter and that phrasing was one of Henry Potter’s old tricks, for example when importing something from abroad and wanting to stay secret. Lord and Heir? If it was Harry, then this would mean Lord Potter and Heir Black, with the Marquis title on top of that? So…early emancipation.
Once he spotted the words “Triwizard Tournament” he understood. Damn it.
Now he read the letter properly. So Harry was stuck in this bloody tournament. And wait, why was Sirius the Lord Apparent and Harry already the Heir? He had the blood relation, but so would the Malfoy kid. Sure, Sirius named him his heir, but back then he wasn’t Lord. Inheritance law was confusing, but Sirius was quite sure that with his ascension to Lord Apparent (however that happened, though clearly dear old mum didn’t have the power to do it) the Heir title would by default fall onto his oldest child. Harry was first in line for the title as long as Sirius had no children, but this would only make him the Heir Presumptive, not the Heir Apparent. And the Heir Presumptive couldn’t just claim the ring without his Lord’s assent.
Huh.
Strange.
Or actually…not so much.
“What is it, Sirius? Where did you get that letter?”
Sirius turned around.
“Apparently Dementors made me infertile. Oh and Harry is stuck in the Triwizard Tournament and emancipated.”
“Wha…huh?”
The sheer confusion on Remus' face was hilarious. And now Harry’s prank.
“And because the contents of this letter are classified as house secrets between the Houses of Black and…probably Fleamont, I can only share it with you if you accept my offer and become the steward of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.”
“Sure whatever, now give me that letter, you old mutt.”
Grinning, Sirius handed over the piece of parchment while a white flash of light signified the acceptance of the position. Stewards were practically family and because of that this wasn’t merely a job with a normal contract, but family magic had to accept them. Ancient magics, don’t question it.
“What was that? I got the feeling you just did something, Sirius Black! And why is that Harry’s handwriting? Strange name to sign that letter with… bloody Tournament. Who are those people and what the freaking hell… and what is that about Crouch and your bank manager? Sirius! Explanation. NOW!”
Sirius nodded and asked Remus to sit down.
“That’s probably going to be a long story. Kreacher!”
With a pop the elf appeared.
“Blood traitor calls Kreacher.”
“Merlin be damned, elf. I am the Lord Apparent of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and you better treat me like it. My steward and I have important business to conduct, together with the Marquis of Fleamont and the Lord Potter. Get us some whiskey. Some of Father’s expensive ones. Consider all your previous orders annulled, you serve me as the Lord of Black, Ring on my hand already or not. You serve me and only me. Not Narcissa, not Bella, not that bloody painting of my mother, me. You may accept orders by my steward and by the Heir Black, if they don’t go against my orders and wishes. Once we have our beverage, you go clean this place, this is an embarrassment to the House of Black. Put the painting of mother in… her old sitting room and get one of Arcturus down there. Everything will be clean and proper, worthy of the House of Black. And you cook three proper meals every day for me and my guests. If necessary, you may check for other Black elves on the other properties and access the funds to follow my orders. You know the rules.”
Both Remus and Kreacher felt energy radiating from Sirius, magical power. The Power of Pendragon was in Sirius’ blood too. He was a leader, strong and charismatic, powerful. And his elf would obey him.
“Yes, Master. I gladly obey. For the House of Black.”
With a satisfied expression on his face the elf vanished. Apparently that was proof enough of Sirius’ strength.
“What. The. Hell?”
Sirius just grinned, waited until a dusty decanter with whiskey and two glasses appeared on the table (which were promptly cleaned by the elf), poured both of them a drink. He told Remus about the Tournament, Harry’s worries, his supporters (I mean that one was Flitwick and the other Babbling was obvious. Third might just be Irma Pince, not many staff members who were no professors), what news they had from Gringotts, Harry’s plan with Crouch and the apparent line of succession of the House of Black.
“Oh and we pranked you.”
Remus, still utterly confused by everything, took a second to figure that one out.
“Wait…James once told me about a steward’s job. I’ve been invited into the House of Black to assist the Lord, so that you can share House secrets with me. And you gave me a job where you decide how much I earn…and I can’t quit when I want to be in Harry's life right now. Damn you.”
“Hey, that was the boy’s idea. And it’s bloody brilliant. First, I can pay you as much as I want, second, you have to wear proper clothing and stuff, and lastly, no one can discriminate against you now. A steward is to be treated as a Member of the House. Brilliant. Lucius Malfoy now has to treat a halfblood werewolf like a pureblood member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black or face retribution. We’re not only pranking you into having money and a stable job, but we’re also pranking the bigoted purebloods. Respect that, Remy, that’s a quality prank.”
And so Harry’s fears were unfounded, Sirius had received and understood the letter completely. Not that Harry knew that yet, he’d have to wait until getting back a letter at breakfast. But before heading down into the Great Hall, the boy sat in the Common Room and waited for Hermione.
It didn’t take long for the bushy-haired girl to appear, as usual getting up early, but not as early as Harry. She immediately looked at him, blushing lightly but not turning away. Oh no, she was actually smiling brightly - and heading straight for him
While getting wrapped up in a tight hug Harry managed to whisper a “we okay?” The response was quick, Hermione looked at him with her chocolate brown eyes and, without hesitation, whispered back “yes.”
And so the duo made their way down into the Great Hall. Not many students were around yet, but among the few present were some of noble families. Exactly what Harry wanted. For the beginning he started with wearing a holster and the pocket watch. On top of that he changed the ward setting of his family rings. Most of those generally had an invisibility setting and a Notice-Me setting, obviously with the intention to either go unnoticed or literally brag with them. Henry had adapted the Potter/Fleamont rings a bit further, by including an obscuration setting. People would realise that there were rings, but would be unable to pinpoint which or how many. It created some sort of a localised confusion field - which extended to the Black ring as long as it was worn between the other two. Henry speculated that the fields were overextending a bit and then interacting with each other causing a… Harry honestly had no idea what, there were way too many technical terms involved. Fact was, all three rings were currently obscured. Which would probably garner ever more attention. And it did. Hermione noticed at least three students (two Slytherins and a Ravenclaw) who raised an eyebrow and gave Harry a calculating look. Those would certainly write a letter home.
A while after Neville and the Quidditch Team girls had joined them (Angelina and Alicia giving Harry and Hermione inquisitive looks which led to a very telling blush on the duo’s faces), an owl arrived for Harry. At first he was reluctant to just open it, because reading a letter from a wanted fugitive in the middle of the Great Hall wasn’t so smart, but in the end Harry figured that Sirius would resort to coded messages as well.
Hey pup,
I hope you’re doing fine. Thought I’d check in with you, now that your school year has begun again. I really wish I could have stayed your professor and tell you a few more stories about your parents, but hey, can’t change the past. Don’t worry about me though, I’m staying with a close friend in London, with good old Pads. Even got me a job (you two are very sneaky, young man. Nice prank though) that pays well.
So, I’ve heard about your current troubles, quite the mess you got yourself into. Whenever you need something from us, just write and we’ll try our best to help. Hopefully the whole situation resolves though - including the lacking support. That worries us a lot, but we’re glad that you have at least found some reliable people. Hopefully none of them turns out to be some sort of a puppet master as well. Look out for yourself.
And regarding the other thing you mentioned: if you really achieve something there, we’d be grateful. Rest assured, we’ll assist you the best we can from here and will make a trip to the Goblins one of these days.
Be careful, Harry, and know that we support you every step of the way. Hopefully we’ll see you soon, maybe you could even drop by our place in the near future. We’d love that.
Love,
Remus and Pads
Harry smiled while putting the letter into his back.
“Good news, Harry?”
“Yes, it’s from Remus - I mean Professor Lupin. Wrote him yesterday and he must have immediately replied. Nothing special, just voicing his support. Anyway - we should head to the greenhouses, shouldn't we, Neville?”
The boy nodded and grabbed his bag. Better to not come late to Professor Sprout’s class - and hope for the best.
In Herbology class you usually worked in groups of four - Harry, Hermione, Ron and usually either Neville or one of the Hufflepuff boys that didn’t get into another group. This time around that definitely wouldn’t happen - and where was Ronald by the way? Probably slept in, lazy idiot. Anyway, Harry, Hermione and Neville sat down at a table, all silently praying for a good fourth member of their group. Sprout was eying them with interest, and most of the Puffs seemed pretty torn. Hating or not hating, that was the question.
“Mr Potter.”
“Yes, Professor?”
“We are about to start class in a minute, do you know where Mr Weasley is?”
Harry shook his head. Honestly, he had no idea. But why was Sprout asking him, there were at least three others not present yet either.
“”I’m sorry, no clue. He’s been…pretty vocal regarding his opinions on the Tournament. I would say we are not on speaking terms, but maybe Seamus or Dean can answer this question. I was the first to get up.”
The Professor nodded and smiled at him.
“Thank you, Mr Potter. And let me assure you, if Irma - Madam Pince, says you couldn’t have entered then I believe that. I’m not happy about it, but I assume that you aren’t either. You have had your fair share of adventure and thrills the past years already, no need to repeat that.”
Oh.
That’s why she asked about Ron. Just looking for a chance to apologise.
“Don’t worry about it, Professor.”
“I am sorry nonetheless. And I was wrong in my behaviour. Other than certain staff members I’m willing to admit that.”
“Thank you. And believe me, if I had a chance I’d pick cheering for Cedric all year over that mess every time.”
He held out his hand, which Professor Sprout gladly shook. One teacher less to worry about.
Sprout then turned around and walked up to the table of Seamus and Dean (who sat together with Justin and Anthony). Harry didn’t make out what she said, but it was probably about Ronald.
Then, out of nowhere, someone slumped down into the fourth chair. A redhead seemingly appearing out of nowhere.
Oh no, not Ron. He still wasn’t here.
Susan Bones.
“Hope you don’t mind? You’re still missing one and I have a few questions for Potter. The first one being: is it Mr Potter? Or Heir Potter? Or something else?”
The usually silent and observant girl stared at Harry with her ice blue eyes.
“You know what my aunt’s job is?”
“Head of the DMLE. Magical law enforcement.”
“Oh yes, and since she raised me you can bet that I’ve learned a lot from her. Especially how to notice all sorts of mind magic. Much more dangerous than battle magic if you ask me. Obliviations, compulsions, legilimency and so on. Everything that is supposed to trick the human mind. So when I see something that deflects my sight and obscures my perception, I notice it. I’m not blind, Potter.”
“What is she talking about, Harry?”
While Hermione set up a barrier of privacy wards, Susan stared at Neville with a very confused look on her face. This was followed by disbelief and then a very pointed look at Harry’s hand. Moments later Neville caught on and stared at Harry’s hand as well. For about five seconds his facial expression turned all foggy and confused until a look of surprise and understanding overtook his face.
“Merlin, I’m blind. How?”
Harry just smiled.
“Long story, and one that can still wait for a while. Don’t know the agenda of all the players yet. So you can call me Harry.”
“Then I am Susan, for all of you. And I hope that one day I get the whole story behind all of that. But yes, being careful when someone is out for your blood is the wisest choice. Just one question.”
Harry knew what she was going to say, it was clear to him. His great grandfather had told him about the most important alliances of House Potter and well…Longbottom and Bones were both among those.
“Yes. House Potter still wishes to side with both House Bones and House Longbottom. I might only have learned all of that recently, but I’m not abandoning my family’s legacy.”
And with that they ended their conversation, the privacy wards were lowered and they were ready to learn all about bouncing bulbs - yes, as fascinating as it sounds.
About fifteen minutes after class began, Ronald stumbled into the Greenhouse.
“MR WEASLEY! What do you have to say to your defence?”
“Hey, I’m sorry, no one woke me up. Only the bloody house elf doing our laundry shooed me out of bed. Didn’t even have breakfast yet.”
“That’s twenty from Gryffindor for being late and five more plus an evening of detention for how you speak to a Professor, Mr Weasley. Now SIT.”
And so Ron slumped down into the next best empty chair (a table with Lavender, Parvati and Zacharias Smith, those that hadn’t found a group) and grumbled about no one waking him or his lack of breakfast. Anyway, it was a very entertaining sight.
Working on Bouncing Bulbs wasn’t too complicated as long as you had a firm grip and some idea of the topic. Thankfully, they managed all just fine - except that one time Susan caught a Bulb just moments before it hit Harry. Beyond that it was a pretty nice lesson, they had some good smalltalk with Susan and Neville and judging by the looks of the people around them it seemed as if at least those Hufflepuffs didn’t completely hate him. It rather appeared to be a bit of frustration paired with pity. Apparently someone had begun telling tales of past Tournaments and suddenly many were happy about not being a part in it.
Once the lesson was over and they were packing their stuff, Susan asked Harry what they had next. Well, once she heard that it was Care with Slytherin, she expressed her sympathy. That wouldn’t be fun on so many levels.
“But don’t give them a reason to attack, Harry. You need the students’ support, otherwise your days won’t be much fun. If they do something though, House Bones has your back.”
Harry smiled. It was good to know that he and Hermione weren’t completely alone among the students.
Their ways parted when Susan and the other Puffs (Hannah and Anthony Goldstein had joined their conversation for a few minutes) went towards the Charms classroom and the Gryffindors headed out to Hagrid’s hut. Harry even got a few “good luck” wishes, it really seemed as if Madam Pince’s statements convinced most Hufflepuffs. Well, and the stories about the death toll probably too. It seemed Hufflepuff’s unbreakable loyalty wasn’t merely with Cedric, but with Hogwarts in this bloody tournament.
And now it was time to face the Snakes.
Yaaaay.
No, honestly, Harry didn’t worry too much. Much less than about Hufflepuff. He valued their opinion and wanted their support. Most of Gryffindor would support him regardless of what they believed, Ravenclaw had expressed their support, and now the Puffs seemed supportive too. Slytherin wouldn’t support him either way, important was that no other House would join them.
Honestly, Care wasn’t all too bad, mostly because Hagrid sent them to work in groups (and luckily did Harry the favour and didn’t pair him with Ron). Malfoy kept laughing behind his back, but there was no confrontation. Thank Merlin for that.
They knew that the confrontation was going to happen one of these days, and eventually it did. After an unspectacular afternoon filled with Care and way too much Divination, Harry and Hermione went to study in the library, specifically in “their” reading room. After that they prepared Potions class for the next day with Neville in the common room. So basically a plainly unspectacular day.
The next morning - Ron overslept again - they had History, and Hermione intended to keep her promise to Professor Binns. Before he could begin droning on about some goblin rebellion, she walked up to him and asked if he had anything new about the Tournament, something to help them prepare. It took him a few moments, but then Binns was completely lucid again. But, nothing new just now.
What followed was probably the most interesting History of Magic class they ever had. Binns took attendance, woke sleeping students, took and handed out points, scolded Ronald for being late and told them a fascinating story about the history of the Tournament and the Goblet of Fire. It was brilliant, and caused a lot of confusion among the students. And Hermione, she just smiled.
But then, then it was time for Harry’s biggest nightmare this week.
Potions.
The glares were annoying. So damn annoying.
No honestly, it seemed as if there wasn’t a single Slytherin student from that year who didn’t glare at Harry. And Snape - he didn’t seem too friendly either. Not that this was much of a difference though.
“And Potter, suddenly scared of the Tournament? Shouldn’t have cheated them.”
Malfoy and his goons snickered, but Harry wasn’t in the mood of arguing now - especially because Snape would definitely join in and punish Harry eventually. So he just sat down.
“Afraid of answering a question, Potter? Better don’t develop that attitude in class now.”
“I didn’t have the intention, Sir. I simply thought that he didn’t mean that as a serious question. It wouldn’t do House Malfoy any good if its Heir were to publicly discredit a well-renowned scholar. So I can’t take any statements where he accuses me of cheating my way into the Tournament seriously since that would have repercussions.”
Hermione grinned. Neville snickered. Draco blanched. And Snape… he seemed to suppress a chuckle.
“Two points for your cheek, Potter. And keep answering my questions.”
“Always, Sir.”
The remainder of Potions class was rather boring. Harry was rather prepared, so he and Hermione didn’t mess up the potion. Neville worked together with Fay Dunbar, and nothing exploded. Sure, one or two times someone tried throwing some ingredients in Harry’s cauldron, but he always managed to catch them.
Just as Harry caught two fire seeds which Goyle had levitated over his cauldron, he walked over to Nott and Zabini.
“Nott, you lost your fire seeds by chance? Those were flying around over there at our work station.”
He gently placed them in front of the two boys, while being watched by Snape. Both Slytherins looked down onto the table, then to their own ingredients.
“No, not ours. Look, they’re there. Thank you though.”
“No worries, I was just wondering, because without those two the potion would probably turn all dark brown and smelly. Kinda like that one over there.”
He pointed at Goyle’s cauldron, but then shrugged, left the seeds on their table and went back. Everyone was expecting accusations towards Goyle now, but they were none. Harry had just proved that he could solve problems without confrontation and that he actually understood something about potions.
Ronald, in the background, neary began accusing Goyle for sabotage, no matter if it was Harry. That shouldn’t be left unpunished, but Snape’s glare shut him up before he could ever begin.
At the end of class, Snape asked Malfoy to stay behind, which caused snickers among both Gryffindors and Slytherins. Apparently Harry had made an impression - especially on Nott and Zabini, who were whispering. Harry noticed, and deep down he hoped that at least one of them had noticed the obscuration field around his hand. That - and his friendly behaviour - would cause a bit of confusion.
Oh, that was going to be fun.