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28 June 1995
(Four days after Little Hangleton)
The Headmaster's Office
Harry paused at a conveniently placed mirror just across from the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's Office. He was already late, but as the boy was a bit cross with Professor Dumbledore at the moment, he put being presentable ahead of being punctual and so took the time to adjust his green and silver necktie and pat down the few hairs that had slipped out of place. Potter men were known for their famously unruly hair, which was one of many reason why he was glad he no longer carried that name. Satisfied with his appearance, Hadrian Remus Black ("Harry" to his friends, his teachers, and pretty much everyone else in the world except for a tiny handful of particularly officious bureaucrats) turned to the gargoyle and gave the password – "Goo-Goo Clusters," some ghastly-sounding American confection the Headmaster had discovered – and then ascended the stairs.
"Come in, Harry," said Dumbledore from inside the office before Harry even had time to knock. The young Slytherin sighed. He'd never be so uncouth as to say anything, but privately, he'd always thought it rude for the Headmaster to always invite people in before they could actually knock, the wily old man's way of asserting dominance over visitors before they even made it inside his office. Also, it had been four days since the disastrous end of the Triwizard Tournament (they kept the original name in all papers for some silly reason despite the added participants), and only now had the Headmaster finally decided it was time to speak with him again.
"A bit lax," Harry thought, "what with a lunatic snake-man back from the dead and running around loose with an army of inbred Pureblood terrorists and all."
Not that he'd had been looking forward to this meeting. Harry had forgiven Dumbledore years before for his indirect role in placing him with the Dursleys, but the Slytherin was still continually annoyed by the Headmaster's efforts to get him back on good terms with the family he'd simultaneously been thrown out of and proudly walked away from. And thus, Harry was not surprised by the tableau before him when he opened the door.
In the center of the room was Dumbledore who for once wasn't twinkling madly at Harry but was instead looking quite somber. Indeed, today, the Headmaster actually seemed to looked his age. For just a second, Harry felt almost concerned, but then he remembered he had reason to be annoyed with the man and suppressed the charitable influence.
"Bad enough the Dark Lord is back! But for him to use Dumbledore's tournament to achieve it? And with the aid of someone the Headmaster had considered a friend who turned out to be a Death Eater operating right under his nose? Ridiculous! That would never have happened if Dumbledore had been a Slytherin!"
Then, annoyed with his own annoyance, Harry took a second to center himself. "Unbridled emotion is the enemy of cunning and the foe of ambition," Slytherin's memoirs had said, and they were words Harry had tried to live by pretty much since the day he first read them. If he did embroidery, the quote would be hanging over his bed in framed needlepoint. In any case, Voldemort's rise made Harry and Dumbledore into allies whatever their past conflicts.
To Dumbledore's right was an empty chair apparently meant for him. Sitting next to it were two figures Harry was pleased to see: Severus Snape and Sirius Black. Snape, of course, was Harry's Head of House. After a rough introduction, Harry and the Potions Master settled into a truce that eventually blossomed into a relatively warm (for Slytherins, anyway) mentor-apprentice relationship. Lord Black, pale and gaunt, still bore the signs of years of false imprisonment in Azkaban, but that hadn't prevented him from adopting Harry as his Heir to the shock and horror of most of Wizarding Britain. Harry thought his role in successfully springing Sirius out of Azkaban and into a Lordship was one of his proudest moments, exceeded only by the monumental task of getting Snape and Black past their adolescent hatred and into an uneasy alliance. It helped that the three of them had mutual enemies.
Speaking of whom, to the left of the Headmaster's desk sat the Potters – James, Lily, and their son, James Jr. (Jim to his friends, the Boy-Who-Lived to his adoring public, the Supreme Git of the Universe according to the T-shirt Harry had sent to him for his 13th birthday). Ostensibly Harry's identical twin, the two could easily be told apart by Jim's atrocious hair, his relentlessly Gryffindorish attitude towards life, and the small jagged scar on his left temple that resembled the letter V. Harry had a scar of his own, of course, but one which was generally attributed to falling masonry, a lightning bolt having no apparent connection to the Dark Lord. Or so most people thought – Harry's Ancient Runes professor knew perfectly well that the lightning bolt scar couldn't have been a better representation of Sowilo, the Norse rune of power and victory, if somebody carved it deliberately, but being as cunning as any Slytherin herself, she had hoarded that information, knowledge being power after all.
As Harry entered, the Potter father and son turned to look at him with angry glares as characteristic as they were predictable."Honestly," he thought. "It's not my fault they both kept trusting the wrong people." Lily Potter didn't glare at her eldest son, but Harry avoided eye contact with her nonetheless. The reasons for the gulf between her and Harry were very different from those separating Harry from his former father and brother, but they were perhaps even more insurmountable.
"You're late," said James coolly.
"Am I?" Harry replied cheerfully as he took the empty seat. "Actually, I don't recall being given a specific time to be here. Just instructions to come as soon as possible. I went to see how Theo was doing and then came straightaway."
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If you want to read ahead by 10 chapters from her you can visit my Patre-on.
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