And the little questions kept piling up. Miss Adams was a great teacher, and well adored by her students, but she was also one of the most eccentric people Malfoy had ever had the burden of knowing. There was currently a large betting pool going around the school about how she had been the one to facilitate Dolores Umbridge's death, and whether she would kill the Dark Lord, or Fudge, or Dumbledore, or all three. Potter also bragged openly about his mass-murderer godfather Sirius Black. He was surrounded by other Dark lunatics, it only made sense for him to be one as well.
For that was Draco's hypothesis. Harry Potter had to be a Dark wizard. He was not taking the negative for an answer. It all added up! He would find solid proof of this, to prove to everyone he was not crazy or in love and he would expose Potter as a fraud.
"Can you shut up and let me focus on my reading!? Why in Merlin's name do you care so much?" Pansy sighed. "You're a Dark wizard. Are you seriously worried about Potter's morals?"
"But he's not a proper Dark wizard! He hangs around with Weasel, the mudblood, and that weird Ravenclaw!"
Pansy frowned and set down her book, staring at him.
"But they're his best friends, if he really is Dark, then they most certainly are too."
Draco shuddered in revulsion at the thought of someone like Granger participating in the type of rituals and magics reserved for only the best of wizards. No, it was unfathomable. Not only would she not be capable of such things, but she would refuse even if she was granted such a prestigious opportunity. Mudbloods and their morals. Yuck.
"No, no. It's not possible. She's not pureblood. She doesn't have the power to accomplish that sort of magic, she's filthy," he insisted.
"Potter isn't pureblood."
"I'm sorry, you accuse me of having a crush! You're the one defending him."
She rolled her eyes and set down her book, giving him her full attention. "What is your goal, Draco? Because it sounds like you're stalking him because you're in love with him. If you exposed him of practicing Dark magic, who would even care besides Dumbledore? No one would believe you, and if they did, your father and other Dark-aligned members of the Ministry would have no choice but to publicly defend Potter's right to practice. Hell, with how famous he is, he might make the Dark Arts more mainstream. Leave him alone, would you? If you're wrong, you'll end up looking a fool, if you're right, you'll end up dead. Leave it, please."
Draco sputtered and his face turned a violent shade of red. "I'm not in love with him!" He stormed off. Pansy sighed and made a note to prepare a speech for Draco's upcoming funeral and/or wedding.
...
Lessons began and everyone was hesitantly excited for their first DADA class. Professor Lupin having been moved to History of Magic was a beloved change that no one would complain about (except in the sense that they now had to pay attention and study), but they also would have liked to have a competent professor in Defense more than one year in a row. Mad-Eye Moody was known to be eccentric at best and a disastrously mentally ill, paranoid war veteran at worst.
Moody turned to the group of students, his eye buzzing around in his socket to gaze at each of them. His face morphed a wide, manic grin and he took a long swig from his flask, shuddering as it went down.
"Unforgivable Curses, who wants to see one!?"
Harry cheered.
While the young necromancer was hardly going to throw a fuss about having illegal curses demonstrated on children, being immune to the Imperius himself, the other, normal children were much less enthused. How was this legal? Hermione grumbled and made a note to complain.
The only solace was that Moody favored Harry immediately, perversely fascinated that he was able to withstand the commands of the Imperius with no issues. This meant that the other children were safe from his unorthodox teaching style. Neville in particular, who did not appreciate the hands-on training, was grateful that Harry took the brunt of the Professor's focus. Still, seeing the two of them engaged in a heated discussion about the pros and cons of casting the Cruciatus Curse made Neville extremely uncomfortable. The strangeness of Moody reminded him of Harry - the weird, dark, foreboding feeling one got in his presence. It rolled off of Moody too, in the strange gleam in his eye and the feral smile as he tortured a spider. Neville made concerned eye contact with Malfoy of all people, as the two boys seemed to be the only ones truly aware of how inappropriate this lesson plan was.
Their international guests arrived on the first of October. Beauxbatons arrived on a flying house pulled by horses and Durmstrang in a teleporting pirate ship. Ron looked about ready to swoon head over heels for Viktor Krum but otherwise, the welcoming ceremony was mostly formalities and adults making small talk. The feast was lively and full of chatter with the new students milling about in small groups amongst all four tables. Hermione found herself surrounded by a group of foreign students as she was one of the few who could speak their languages fluently. The poor girl was clearly overwhelmed with the attention. But, Ron, ever the gentleman, kindly offered the seats next to them and spent an uncomfortable amount of time staring at the pretty French girls. Luna meanwhile, held several students hostage as she asked them questions about the French government being overrun by werewolves.
Harry let the conversation flow around him and settled into people-watching.
Finally, as the dinner dishes were being replaced with piles of desserts, the highlight of the evening began as Dumbledore gathered their attention.
"Welcome, once again to all of our visitors. Welcome!" Dumbledore introduced the adults - some ministry officials, including Minister Fudge, a sickly-looking man named Crouch, and a suspiciously cheerful Ludo Bagman as well as the heads of the other schools, Maxime and Karkoff. A large, ornate cup was revealed with appropriate dramatic flare.
"You will have one week to enter your name. The Champions will be decided by the Goblet, and the first task will take place in late November. I remind you once more that entering your name is not a decision you should make lightly. Should you be chosen, you will be bound to a contract and forced to compete."
Dumbledore then discussed the less deadly events. There would be, in addition to the main tournament, some smaller events held throughout the year that anyone could participate in. Academic and Quidditch competitions would be team events hosted on rotating weekends. The dueling competition had perhaps fewer restrictions and safety precautions than was wise, but that was also what made it exciting. Lastly, the music and art competition was a talent show done at the end of the year where everyone had an opportunity to share their work. Most people were a lot less enthusiastic about that one but the school had the frog-choir and painting clubs, so it made sense to include something for all three categories of students - jock, nerd, and artist.
The announcement of the Yule Ball received very mixed results, largely split by gender. Ron and Harry shared a look of horror. Dancing? Girls? Was there anything more awful? Ron enjoyed ogling at ladies inappropriately, but the thought of anything further made his face burn with embarrassment and horror.
Nevertheless, that there were activities for those not willing to risk life and limb had the students discussing the event long into the evening that night. Dress robes were fawned over and mock duels were had until someone had set an armchair on fire and the prefects finally yelled at everyone to go to bed. Any uncomfortableness about strange professors and terrorist attacks was cast aside as everyone was swept up in the simple joys and stressors of teenage stuff.
Harry himself was happy being a normal child for a change - worrying about Quidditch and girls and homework - until he got a note from Dumbledore the following evening asking him to visit after dinner, reminding him that he was unworthy of simplicity.
"Harry, my boy, how are you doing?" The Headmaster said as Harry entered. He took a moment to survey the office and all the stern-faced portraits surrounding them. Fawkes the phoenix chirped at him from his stool and Harry gave the bird a little wave of greeting.
"Quite well, thank you, Professor. Hello, Fawkes." He sat in a fancy stuffed armchair across from the desk. Dumbledore gave him a polite smile and offered him some candy. "Might I ask why I'm here?"
"Of course, of course. I wanted to check in with you. How are you faring after the attack at the World Cup?"
"Well, I'm doing alright mostly, it's been upsetting to read about it in the papers." He said.
Dumbledore nodded somberly.
"Harry, I don't mean to upset you further, but I wanted to discuss the implications of the attack with you. Lord Voldemort is gaining power quickly. I am worried he may target you."
Harry nodded. "Sirius and mama both said that. But how would Voldemort regain his power? I thought he was dead?" He asked in his most innocent tone.
"Ah, now that is the right question to be asking, very well done, Harry." Harry waited a moment, but for some reason, Dumbledore did not elaborate. There was a clear difference between speaking with the Headmaster versus his parental figures. Why wasn't he communicating clearly? Sure, the man did not trust Harry, that was fair. But this Voldemort business directly involved Harry. Why were they bothering with this farce of a conversation?
"Have you any idea on how we can stop Voldemort from returning?" He tried.
"I have a great many ideas, but very few of them are tangible. That is why I called you here today, my dear boy. I would like to give you some private lessons this year."
"Lessons?" Harry asked, baffled at the thought. "About what?"
"Oh, a bit of this and a bit of that."
Harry considered slamming the man's head against the table until he spoke plainly. What sort of thing could he learn from Dumbledore? How to annoy Voldemort to death?
"About how to defeat Voldemort?" he probed. "Because Sirius had me running dueling drills all summer."
"It is certainly related to Voldemort."
"Well alright then, that could be useful. If I agree, will you answer my questions?" He asked flatly. Going along with whatever it was Dumbledore wanted was likely the only way to figure out what he was on about. That he had been advised to avoid the Headmaster like the plague… well. He was unlikely to kill Harry, they'd already determined that.
"All in good time, my boy!" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled very annoyedly, and Harry strongly considered murdering the man instead. "Now, come, let me show you -" and off into the memory of the Gaunts they went.
Dumbledore had planned a jaunt into the past for dramatic intrigue and to begin a very slow, chronological look into Tom Riddle's past. He'd seen so many young people ruined by war, James, Lily, and all the others they'd lost - Severus and Sirius as well. Darkness ruined and tainted a soul, and he could see so much goodness left in Harry. All Dumbledore could do was hope that by showing the boy the path of Tom Riddle, Harry would be convinced to not follow down that same route.
....
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