Bab 9: Harry Gaunt - Chapter 9
Harry looked back for a fleeting moment as he slowed past the bend... he shook his head. He'd hardly known the witch called Bellatrix Lestrange, why should it come as a surprise that her younger self would be so different. Harry had once hated her, hate that had turned to pity and guilt for what he'd done to her.
Bellatrix Lestrange was just as much a victim of Voldemort as he was, and as Harry continued his walk to the Headmaster's office, he felt resolved to do everything he could to save her.
To save them all.
"Come in come in," encouraged Dumbledore warmly from his chair, seeing as Harry poked his head through the open door. "I see you found me okay. Splendid, please, have a seat."
Dumbledore gestured to the chair across from him
"Thank you," said Harry pleasantly, taking a seat on the comfortable chair. "A Prefect showed me the way," he added.
They hadn't of course, Harry was just making conversation.
Dumbledore nodded, pleased. "I must confess to some surprise at your letter, Lord Gaunt," he said with an excited flutter of his hands, which had plucked the letter from his desk. "You are a wonder. Truly."
Dumbledore waved the letter, tipping his proverbial hat to the young the man, who as far as he could see, had positioned himself perfectly. He had apparently paid off his debts, over a million if Horace is to be believed.
"Well," chuckled Harry. "I wouldn't go that far. I've been lucky is all, I never even knew I was a Gaunt."
Harry adjusted in his seat, taking a moment to think. The debts had been paid, all except one which Harry still hadn't gotten his head around. Apparently, Lord Black wanted to meet him, and would only take payment in person.
It was annoying to say the least.
"And now you're here," spoke Dumbledore with a pleased sound. "You have of course been accepted, and that business with Remus set aside - though," Dumbledore winced a little. "I'd suggest staying clear of James and his friends for a time, they're not the most… forgiving."
Harry nodded understandingly.
"Of course," he said. "I shouldn't have any trouble avoiding them."
Harry wouldn't have any classes with them. They were sixth years, he was seventh.
"Oh and about that. I know from your letter you wished to attend in seventh year, however without OWL's, you cannot," said Dumbledore before quickly adding. "But I think we can work around it, you are no doubt skilled in your own way. We can arrange some supplementary classes for you."
Dumbledore was sure it wouldn't be a problem, given the things he'd already seen from the boy. "I assume you have a wand now?" he asked curiously. "You'll need one."
He then waited as Harry didn't speak, and instead reach into his sleeve to retrieve a pale wand. He held it proudly. "This is my wand," he said, tilting so Dumbledore could see. "You recognise it."
Harry could see the way his eyes widened.
"Yes…" Dumbledore did as he regarded it carefully. "I assume it is an heirloom then?"
Harry nodded, stowing it again.
"It was made by my ancestor - no, not that one," Harry smirked a little at Dumbledore's face. "But I showed it to you to assure that it is safe, nor will it harm any who happen to touch it."
Not that they would. Harry folded his hands in his lap.
"I see. Thank you for telling me," returned Dumbledore with a nod. "Is there anything else you wish to tell me?"
Dumbledore set his gaze upon Harry, finding that like Horace, he was indeed familiar. But the difference now was, that Dumbledore knew why.
"Yes actually," said Harry. "Am I permitted to leave Hogwarts at my leisure?" he asked, thinking still of Voldemort's remaining soul shards. "I have duties elsewhere, you see."
Harry knew Dumbledore didn't like people coming and goes from Hogwarts, on account of he couldn't moderate who exactly came and went.
"That might be tricky," Dumbledore said eventually, contemplating what more Harry could have to do. "If you should need to leave, consult your Head of House who will consult me. We'll make arrangements."
Dumbledore wouldn't be moved on this, Harry could see as he glanced at the Headmaster's eyes. "Very well," agreed Harry, rising from his chair. "Is that all?"
"Not quite," said Dumbledore swiftly. "There is I am afraid, a small matter I'd like to discuss with you. But if you are unwilling then I understand, it is something of a personal nature."
Dumbledore looked to Harry for consent, and got it when Harry didn't walk away. Dumbledore rose from his chair, his brightly coloured robes different from his guarded look. "I wonder if you've made any efforts to discover more of your family," he began, showing nothing of his true motive in asking this. "I assume you are an orphan?"
Call it intuition, but Dumbledore had seen Harry's type before. Young, powerful and to all the world, appeared as he was seen, concealing perhaps his true nature.
Dumbledore wouldn't be fooled again.
"No, I have not tried to," explained Harry. "This is all still new to me, and you are right, I am an orphan. So perhaps I am used to being alone."
Harry shrugged, he tried not to think about such things, even if he could see that Dumbledore did.
"I offer my help," afforded Dumbledore with a nod. "Should you wish it. I know many who could assist in your search, and should you come across something, they would be happy to investigate."
Dumbledore smiled at him.
"That's very kind of you," returned Harry on the surface. "But as I said, it is not within my current plans."
Harry shifted away, pausing on the edge of walking away. "Is there anything else, Headmaster?"
Harry appeared pleasant as he waited for the Headmaster's reply, despite how he really felt at the man's nerve. It was obvious what he was getting at, and Harry might agree with his motive on some level.
But it was always the same with Dumbledore, he couldn't help but manipulate.
"Just your letter," said Dumbledore, handing it to Harry from his desk. "I'll see you after the summer."
Harry took the letter, then turned away without a word as he walked through the open door.
Dumbledore slumped in his chair once he was gone. "He reminds me of him," he said quietly, even if Fawkes was nowhere to be seen. "They truly are related - and should they meet, if they haven't already…"
Dumbledore did not want them to meet, fearful that Harry might be taken in by Voldemort's charm and led astray. He would have to keep a close eye on Harry Gaunt.
Break.
Harry meanwhile, who was currently ambling about the corridors of Hogwarts, was wondering where exactly the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy had been moved to.
"Where is it!" he shouted, turning another corner on the seventh floor, feeling sure this was where the Room of Requirement had been. "They moved it."
Harry couldn't believe it, the one marker he'd used in the future to find the room, hadn't been moved there until some indiscernible time in the future!
"Bloody hell."
Harry had to stop for a break by a lonely portrait, no one about as not an echo reached him. It was a good thing he'd decided to return to Hogwarts then, he'd need plenty of time to track the room down again. And then there was the Chamber, which currently had a deranged Basilisk in it.
"I say, get off my frame," said a curt voice from the tall canvas. "Are you listening? Get off!"
Harry took a hurried step back, lifting his hand that had rested on the corner of the frame. He glared at the man inside. "There - happy?" snipped Harry. "Now shut up."
Harry was trying to think.
"You little snot," seethed the portrait. "You're not even a student here, sneak in did we?"
The portrait looked very disapproving with his hands on his hips in his flowery outfit.
"I didn't sneak in," rebutted Harry.
"Oh really," doubted the portrait. "Then what are you doing here?"
"Nothing."
Harry walked away, ignoring the portrait's calls.
"Why is everything so different…" he muttered under his breath as he descended the stairs.
Everything really was different, from the people to the tapestries, Hogwarts just wasn't the same anymore as he held onto the banister.
Even the stairs seemed to behave.
Harry would think on it later, he had a meeting now with Greycup about buying a new home for himself.
Break.
Cissy settled comfortably on the train cushion beside Bellatrix, who was currently giving dirty looks at the rude fourth years already inside. They'd been forced to share a compartment, Bellatrix wasn't pleased.
"Do you think we'll visit London?" asked Cissy over the laughing fourth years. "I wanted to see the shops, Diagon Alley gets boring after a while."
Cissy liked the muggle clothes they made, especially the long and pretty dresses she'd see in the shop windows.
"I don't think so Cissy," said Bellatrix unsurely, knowing that their mother wouldn't let them, too afraid that they'd run away like Andi had. "Maybe we can over the summer. Mother will be out and Father is sure to be busy with something."
Bellatrix daren't think about what that would be exactly, but as Cissy's spirits raised, she didn't care.
"I hope so Bella," said Cissy longingly, before glancing at her sister as the train began to pull away. Cissy wanted to talk.
"What?" said Bellatrix, having retrieved a book on Charms from her back. She felt Cissy poke her. "Oh stop it Cissy."
Bellatrix was unimpressed when she glimpsed Cissy's secretive smile. "You read too many of those Romance novels," added Bellatrix as she tried to read.
"You know you like them too," returned Cissy, pulling one of her own from her bag. "And for good reason, anything's better than…" Cissy deflated a little. "It's just nice to dream a little, what's the harm in that?"
Cissy clutched at the cover of her book.
"There's nothing wrong with it Cissy," said Bellatrix kindly. "But you mustn't run from reality either, otherwise."
Bellatrix took a peek at Cissy's face. "It'll be okay Cissy," she assured, holding Cissy's hand. "You'll see."
Cissy nodded, letting go with a final squeeze. "Of course it will," she returned then in a teasing tone. "When you and Lord Gaunt marry, we'll both-"
Bellatrix covered Cissy's mouth, scandalised as Cissy giggled uncontrollably. "Cissy," seethed Bellatrix with a giggle of her own. "Don't say that."
Cissy managed to wriggle away, about to say more when another voice rung between them.
"Lord Gaunt?" asked a pretty girl with blonde hair. "You know him?"
She looked at them both with interest, piqued when she'd heard the name but thankfully, not what came before. "What's he like?" she asked.
Bellatrix felt herself hesitate.
"He's very handsome," said Cissy to a kindred spirit of gossip and romance.
"Is he though?" returned the pretty girl with scepticism. "But he's a Gaunt, weren't they… really ugly?"
Her friends snickered, the pretty girl joining as they muttered about Pureblood nonsense.
"The Gaunts are a noble house," stated Bellatrix in defence, despite her prior agreement on the point. "It doesn't matter if they're ugly. They're one of the most powerful families in Britain."
Bellatrix wouldn't allow anyone to besmirch the Pureblood way, which to this day remained a firm part of her family, whom she dearly loved.
"Maybe to you it would seem that way," said the pretty girl with a touch a venom. "But for the rest of us, it's all there is to it. Who'd want to marry such an ugly man?"
She posed it to her friends, who in-turn denied it one by one.
The pretty girl looked triumphantly at Bellatrix.
"I need some air."
Bellatrix got up from her seat, telling Cissy to stay and that she'd only be a moment before the door closed behind her with a click.
How could it be, as she began walking to the nearest loo along the narrow aisle, that people who were once considered dirt, were now openly insulting such an esteemed family as the Gaunts?
She huffed.
It didn't matter how right that girl was, or how Bellatrix agreed on the need not to be inbred - but it was the principal of the matter, it encroached on everything she'd been taught since birth.
Pureblood's ran the world. Not them.
It wasn't right.
"Occupied."
Bellatrix sighed as the handle wouldn't give, these toilets too few and far between as she decided to wait, the girl inside wouldn't be that long.
And as well, it showed precisely what the pretty girl and people like her thought of Bellatrix's own family, the Blacks, who for the last 15 centuries had held the respect of the Wizarding World.
Was that to be lost because of her sister? Her father?
Bellatrix didn't know, and it scared her.
"Sorry," said the girl as she slipped out the door. "You might want to give it a minute."
She hurried past, chuckling as Bellatrix scowled after her. She was a big girl, surely not a Pureblood as Bellatrix glanced inside the cubicle, not daring to breathe.
Bellatrix shut the door, cursing every Mudblood and Half-blood in her head as she stormed away, intent on finding the next unfettered toilet.
"If only things were different," she said quietly.
Maybe then she'd be happy. Maybe then the world would be right again.
That was a bit of fun at the end there.
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