Disclaimer - You all know the drill. HP and all related characters belong to the mighty JK bows. Songs, companies and other people etc. belong to whoever they belong to.
Warnings - Swearing
Author Notes - I was rather shocked to open my inbox to find a lot of reviews and a request to send someone the chapter because the link wouldn't work - I don't I've grinned so widely for ages, so thank you to all my lovely, lovely reviewers!
Also, someone said about how Minerva would have surely already known that Harry was in fact Damien…I've got a few points about that.
For one, even in the magical world people can only time-travel for several hours at a time - a much larger time, one would assume, could even more drastically alter time and the future, even by one small glitch. I highly doubt that Minerva McGonagall, an obviously sceptical person about Divination, would believe in any wild theories about it.
Another point would be, basically, you wouldn't expect Harry Potter to be your missing older brother, would you? Even if they look alike, bar the scar. Many people look like non-related (and related) people, many years apart. Close related people, for example James and Harry can look very similar. Distantly related people can also look alike, as my friend proved to me, after finding a picture from many years ago of an old relative, who looked identical to her at the same age…again, this is similar with non-related people.
Although, I believe, that she is very aware of how similar they look - which, I think would, in part, attribute to her obvious protective nature of him.
Also, this shall be based on JK Rowling's HBP, so there shall be spoilers and large parts of the book shall be in here…again, doesn't belong to me, although the sassy plot changes are mine ;-)
However, on to the story.
Damien opened his eyes slowly, the feeling that he was moving overtaking him, even though he was sure he was not in any place where such actions could take place.
Once he forced his eyes to stay open for longer than a few seconds, he froze as he finally took in his surroundings.
He was surrounded by a swirling, golden vortex, spinning around smoothly as he was pulled away from his home.
In the other direction, another boy came towards him, so similar and yet so different, yet the only thing that he could differ their physical appearances, bar the fact that the boy was rather short and scrawny, was an unusual lightning bolt scar on his head.
The two looked at each other, neither wanting to break the uncomfortable silence placed upon them by Fate.
"What the hell is going on?" The boy finally asked, looking at Damien cautiously.
"I don't know…I was surrounded by this golden mist, and I fell unconscious…it was strange, because it was when it hit midnight, going into the last day of July, which I didn't think held any significance…" Damien trailed off, unaware of the significance it did indeed hold.
The other boy sighed.
"And there goes being normal for a year…" He said sarcastically, apparently having not believed it for a second.
Damien looked at him, confused.
"So…what's your name?" Damien asked, shrugging to himself.
The boy looked at him, clearly amused for some reason. He had no idea why.
"Harry…Harry Potter."
"Damien…Damien McGonagall."
The two shook hands as they floated, thankfully not moving anymore.
"Any relation to Minerva McGonagall? Her grandson or something?" Harry asked curiously.
Damien laughed.
"I'm her older brother."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Damien, what is the date?"
"July 31st." Damien said.
Had he not said it clearly before or something?
"And year?" Harry persisted.
Damien raised an eyebrow, but answered.
"1936."
Harry closed his eyes, muttering to himself for a few seconds before opening them again.
"And there adds something else that I've done to my list. Time-travel…great, just bloody great. Well, I did it before, but it was only a few hours, and I controlled it then…" He trailed off.
Damien's jaw dropped.
"T-time travel!"
"I'm from the year 1996, Damien. I was attacked by this Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort, and hit with a spell that pulled me away in some strange golden light…which is what we are both in now."
"I was just sitting in my room, at it came to midnight, making it July 31st, and I vanished in the golden mist…light…vortex." Damien waved his arms around.
Then, suddenly, something clicked…he remembered this for some reason, only from another perspective…from Harry's…he…he was Harry…
"Harry, this is going to sound odd and very blunt, but I am you."
Harry, to his surprise, didn't look too shocked.
"I'm used to stuff like this happening to me…wait, I'm going to be McGonagall's big brother…wh…how…?"
"Voldemort's spell made you a child, and put you on their doorstep. They adopt you and you live with them until you hit sixteen…not the one you celebrate, but the one that comes on July 31st…" Damien trailed off, suddenly more information of their meeting coming back.
It was unusual to remember what he himself was going to do.
"As soon as you cross this point, you will be a baby and your scar will fade, because Voldemort is not, and never has been, alive then…and I will get to be Harry Potter again…both of my lives will meld, basically. In sixteen years, you will be brought back here as Damien, and find another Harry Potter, like you are now, and get his memories etc. This will basically lift the block and help you remember everything, like the one working on me now…"
Harry did look surprised now and had opened his mouth to say something, but Damien cut him off.
"The block will be lifted a few times, but you won't remember what happened. Take care of Minerva, and treasure your parents…make the most of your time with them…"
Harry nodded. He apparently picked up the underlying meaning in this.
"I will…I won't remember this, but I guess on some sub-conscious level I will, so I promise I will…take care of everyone for me…"
Damien himself nodded.
"Well…I guess this is goodbye then." Damien said.
"Yeah…and the last time I'll be able to speak for a few years." Harry added, smiling grimly.
"Good luck."
"You too. And good luck with Voldemort…you'll need it."
"Thanks, Harry…and good luck with Patrick…you'll know what I mean in a few years." He laughed.
Harry smiled and the two shook hands before, together, crossing over onto the other's side of the vortex.
Harry, on one hand, started to grow younger each second, his hair getting shorter and less in volume, his eyes loosing their haunted look of a haunted young man, and they gained, once again, their innocence and purity, joined in this younger apparel by soft, smooth skin, bearing only the blemish of the already fading scar and a healthy shade of colour that a couple of weeks at the Burrow had yet to bring to him.
Damien, on the other, felt as though a hot poker had been pressed into his skull, with his scar returning sharply and painfully, as it had been gained, and he resisted whimpering in pain. His eyes fought to retain their vivid emerald green colour of joy and purity, and just managed to win, although the consolation for loosing was that there were clear signs he had seen too much for his young age in them, as well as a saddening wisdom beyond his years that no teenager, adult nor child should bear.
His 'Damien' body remained, clearly winning that battle, being much more healthy and fit than his 'Harry' one, however, the scars on his body from his adventures, for example, one on his arm from the basilisk fang which pierced him in the Chamber of Secrets, fought their way on.
He felt, then, the sudden rush of memories from his life as Harry in a few brief seconds, and he scrunched up his face in discomfort before, when it faded, relaxing, although his muscles were slightly spasming in pain.
The block had been lifted by this burst, and it was if a piece of him that had been missing was returned to him.
This truly was the case.
And as he started to drift away once again, seeing a baby Harry…Damien…in a Moses basket, looking at him with his bright, innocent eyes before being spun out one end of the vortex, he himself was spun around violently and jerkily, making Floo Powder seem like a pleasant stroll along the beach, and just as he was about to give up the struggle with his stomach, he was thrown out of the void with a sudden thrust.
Voices pushed through his groggy exterior and pummelled his mind, awakening Harry Potter from his calm slumber.
He could not distinct any words, instead deciding to gather information by what he could feel in the air.
Having slight empathic abilities came across very well at this time.
One person was sitting beside him, to his right-hand side. They were clearly upset and concerned, and trying to be strong for the others around them, but was clearly not managing because of grandfather-like love for the young man before them.
Beside them was someone who obviously had placed many barriers around their hearts, and they were slowly crumbling as they surveyed him closely, a protective nature overwhelming them, and a felling of failure, that they failed to protect him. There was one feeling he could further identify, a painful loss at his similarity to another.
Another, to his left, was also upset and near devastated as they overlooked him, and did not try to put up a façade like the first, clearly dissolving into tears as she held tightly to his hand. A sister-like love flooded through him as he probed slightly deeper.
Beside this person was another, looking over him with shock and distress. They held a brotherly love for the him, that much was obvious. A strong façade could not hold back watery eyes whenever they saw Harry twitch painfully, sending shockwaves of pain rippling through his body.
In front of his bed, two people sat watching him as well.
The one to the left watched him wearily, tired, weak, upset and clearly distraught, for many different reasons. A darkness tainted them, desperate to escape and gain vengeance for hurt to their cub, but resolve and a lot of hard-work kept it under control, at least for the moment. They watched the last of their pack lie in pain and couldn't held but think of the fact that they should have protected him better. He was the nephew he never had.
To this person's right was yet another, the final person in the room, who watched in tears as the young man they viewed like a little brother lay in pain and hurt. They were also devastated for many reasons, but this newest heard was spreading among them too thick, and there was some sort of block apparent within them, although he couldn't specify what it was before was suddenly jerked from his relaxed state, and his eyes suddenly shut open.
This reaction had been caused by a sharp pain in his scar, and he let out a muffled gasp before instinctively trying to press his hand onto it
However, he found himself too weak, and finally settled to turn to those around him for answers for what was going on.
"What…why am I here?" He asked, reaching for his glasses and savouring the feel of the cool metal on his warm skin, and with great effort sat up and pushed them on, his eyes focusing on the six people around him.
On his right sat Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall, to his left Ron and Hermione, and in from of his Remus Lupin and Tonks, all staring at him as he looked around.
"You are here because you were attacked by Lord Voldemort." Dumbledore said gravely, and Harry turned to him, frowning slightly as he suddenly remembered it in a flash of once-blocked memory.
That was definitely going to bug him.
"Talk about never having a relaxing year." He muttered, offering a sheepish grin before looking around at each of the people gathered, pausing, to everyone's notice, on McGonagall.
"I always thought you'd teach Transfiguration, you know. I'm owed a few galleons on that one…I mean, seriously, someone bet that you'd teach Divination, so it wasn't that hard to get my money's worth."
His eyes flared in amusement whenever her left eye twitched at the mention of the subject. It was an unusual start to try and tell her something important, like that he was her big brother, but he was never really good at things like that, and therefore tried to put it forward another way.
Everyone else was just plain confused, and exchanged looks.
"What do you mean you'd always bet on it?" Hermione asked, her voice weak and choked, obviously from crying. "Professor McGonagall has always been our Transfiguration Professor."
Ron muttered in agreement, eyeing Harry with apparent fear for his sanity.
Harry offered a grin.
"Well, maybe for you two she did, but not always for me."
"Someone's messed with your brains, mate." Ron said after a moments thought.
"Nope, only time." He offered.
He still looked at McGonagall, willing her to remember something, to make some connection.
Bar the sensitivity of the whole issue, he couldn't really come out and say, 'Hi, I'm your long-lost brother'…that would get him carted off for a 48 hours stay at St. Mungos with a morphine drip.
Her eyes suddenly widened.
'Bingo.' He thought.
She was like this for several seconds, before suddenly breaking down into tears and gripping him into a vice-like hug, her strict-appearance dissolved into pure emotion.
Harry was never used to hugging people, thanks to his experiences with the Dursleys, and this emotional discomfort, no matter what had happened to him as Damien, would always stay with him.
His arms hung limply at his sides before, finally, he put them on her back, savouring the feeling of someone caring enough about him to give him a hug…only Mrs Weasley and Hermione had ever given him hugs before…that emotional scarring would also linger.
"It's alright, Min…everything's going to be all right…it's going to be alright."
Over the next few minutes, her cries died down into stifled sobs, and she finally looked up from where her head perched on his shoulder, her red-rimmed eyes not looking right on her face.
He searched through his pockets and pulled out a packet of tissues, and she took one gratefully.
She gave him a weak smile.
"I guess you never expected this." He said jokingly, and she gave a watery smile, but couldn't answer.
There was silence.
"Harry, dare I ask what surprise you have sprung on us this time?" Dumbledore asked calmly, curiosity leaking into his voice.
Harry looked up at him, a crooked grin on his face.
"Come on, Albus, surely it'll click."
Hermione, he saw out of the corner of his eye, looked ready to burst, especially with his now calling the Headmaster by his given name, but he didn't look her away.
However, this had distracted him long enough before he turned back, looking into the man's now watery eyes.
Slightly embarrassed, he looked over the man's shoulder, before the man rose and pulled him into a strong hug, a manly one of course, which he held for several seconds before releasing.
"I always believed that you would come back to haunt me…just never like this." The man said, beaming, his voice steady enough that Harry finally met his eyes again.
Harry laughed.
"What can I say? I was sent to haunt you twice."
He turned to Tonks, Remus, Ron and Hermione, who now sat unmoving and blinking rapidly.
"Ok, I think you need to know what's going on…"
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Twenty minutes later, Harry, Minerva and Albus were looking carefully at the four, who were in various degrees of shock.
Surprisingly, it was Ron who snapped out of it first.
"Well mate, you were never really normal, were you?" Ron shrugged, causing Harry to grin. "I guess this just adds to it…and if the Professor is your sister…well, it's a bit weird, but I'm happy for you…and I know I speak for this lot as well."
Harry felt a small burst of relief sprout within him as the young man put a supportive hand on his shoulder and sat on the bed.
He had definitely grown-up since last year, that was for sure.
Hermione followed this up quickly.
"I agree with Ron for once." She began, gesturing at a surprised Ron. "It doesn't change the fact that you're our best friend…we would never abandon you, Harry."
She also joined him, sitting on the bed.
The support of his best friends meant more to him than he could say.
Remus and Tonks followed this example, and also sat on the bed.
As he surveyed the group of six who sat on his bed, all smiling at him, he knew he'd found a true family…as dysfunctional as it may have been, these people were his family, the people he cared most for, and he would not have had it any differently.
He didn't stop smiling until he fell asleep several hours later, from utter exhaustion.
After staying for around a week in the Hospital Wing, the days spent catching up with his sister, his best friends, his mentor, his honorary uncle and bizarrely related cousin of some type (all the Pureblood families were related in some wacky way, so he happily accepted Tonks as a brilliant cousin replacement for Dudley).
Of course, the time spent not talking was spent reading, playing chess (he was actually good at chess as Damien, and only lack of energy from his injuries (which had at first included slight internal bleeding, a punctured lung from his broken ribs and a broken knee cap (he didn't even ask about that one)) had stopped him from getting up and cheering like a mad man after he had beaten Ron in a tight game.
Ron, to Harry's amusement, had looked like a fish out of water, but had taken it surprisingly well.
"Well, it seems like me beating you for five years has finally enacted some hidden chess gene in you." He laughed, before beginning on the large pile of chocolate frogs, found beside Harry's bed, courtesy of Fred and George Weasley, as a 'Get Well Soon' present.
This present had also included a large crate of their products (some of which they had been instructed by the Order to not sell to the general public after Remus had had a look through the crate), which they had told him quietly to use or sell, and this was stowed carefully away under his bed, from Molly Weasley's hawk-eyed view, whenever she also came to visit.
He had also, to his amusement, spent many days talking to Ginny.
She was a good source of humour to the bed-ridden young man, and her vivid descriptions of 'Phlegm vs. the Weasley Matriarch' had been so funny that he was sure he had punctured his lung again from laughing so hard.
Thanks to a mixture of all this, Harry had survived the week under Poppy Pomphrey's strict hospital regime, and he was finally allowed out, spending the rest of his summer with the Weasleys, with regular trips to Hogwarts to both train with Albus (added to thrown in lessons with Filius Flitwick, who Harry could have sworn he had sent into cardiac arrest, and Alastor Moody, who had muttered something before giving him a smile, which looked more like a grimace and smiled back).
Also, thanks to some heavy bribery and persuasion, Ron and Hermione were allowed to begin training up with Flitwick, who had the most spare time on his hands. They would eventually move on to Moody, and then Albus, but until then, they understood the lack of time the other two men had, and happily began training with Flitwick, and also Minerva, who despite still depending on a walking stick (which reminded Harry he had some bones to pick), who was able to teach them advanced Transfigurations.
The only unfortunate thing about his training (he also attended Ron and Hermione's, to help out) was that he missed the trip to Diagon Alley.
However, after Ron and Hermione told him about the fight with Malfoy and his mother in Madam Malkin's, and the strange package, he wished he could have gone.
Something was definitely going on, especially, he thought, after Ron commented on Malfoy refusing to let his left arm be shown, and he added it on his list of things to do.
Of course, Hermione had scoffed, until he had talked to her about it one afternoon.
She was a lot more supportive of his gut instinct after that, although it did help that he brought the Prophecy up to both her and Ron then (Ron had been rather stubborn about the Malfoy thing as well, to his surprise, and had been dragged into the conversation). Being slightly dazed and unable to argue was definitely an advantage when trying to debate something with an obstinate Hermione Granger.
He only wished he's have something else up his sleeve like that for the next time he would try and argue with her.
Finally, it seemed, the damned Prophecy had come in useful for something good.
Finally, after an enjoyable two months break from the gruelling life of school, the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry returned in their flocks to King's Cross Station, and onto the hidden Platform 9 and ¾.
However, surprisingly early for once, the Trio and Ginny climbed aboard, to Mrs Weasley's goodbyes.
Ron and Hermione had quickly left for their Prefect meeting, while Ginny went off to meet Dean, leaving Harry all alone, and surrounded by mesmerized girls before, thankfully, Neville found him.
"Hi, Harry!"
"Neville!" said Harry in relief, turning to see the round-faced boy struggling toward him.
"Hello, Harry," said a girl with long hair and large misty eyes, who was just behind Neville.
"Luna, hi, how are you?"
"Very well, thank you," said Luna. She was clutching a magazine to her chest; large letters on the front announced that there was a pair of free Spectrespecs inside.
"Quibbler still going strong, then?" asked Harry, who felt a certain fondness for the magazine, having given it an exclusive interview the previous year.
"Oh yes, circulation's well up," said Luna happily.
"Let's find seat," said Harry, and the three of them set off along the train through hordes of silently staring students.
At last they found an empty compartment, and Harry hurried inside gratefully.
"They're even staring at us!" said Neville, indicating to himself and Luna. "Because we're with you!"
"They're starting at you because you were at the Ministry too," said Harry, as he hoisted his trunk into the luggage rack. "Our little adventure there was all over the Daily Prophet, you must've seen it."
"Yes, I thought Gran would be angry about all the publicity," said Neville, "but she was really pleased. Says I'm starting to live up to my dad at long last. She bought me a new wand, look!"
He pulled it out and showed it Harry.
"Cherry and unicorn hair," he said proudly. "We think it was the last Ollivander ever sold, he vanished next day - oi, come back here, Trevor!"
And he dived under the seat to retrieve his toad as it made one of its frequent bids for freedom.
"Are we still doing D.A. meetings this year, Harry?" asked Luna, who was detaching a pair of psychedelic spectacles from the middle of the Quibbler."
"I don't know, I'm still thinking on it…" said Harry honestly, sitting down.
Neville bumped his head and emerged from under it.
"I hope you decide to do it. I liked the D.A.! I learned loads with you!"
"I enjoyed the meetings too," said Luna serenely. "It was like having friends."
This was one of those uncomfortable things Luna often said and which made Harry feel a squirming mixture of pity and embarrassment. Before he could respond, however, there was a disturbance outside their compartment door; a group of fourth-year girls were whispering and giggling together on the other side of the glass.
"You ask him!"
"No, you!"
"I'll do it!"
And one of them, a bold-looking girl with large dark eyes, a prominent chin, and long black hair pushed her way through the door.
"Hi, Harry, I'm Romilda, Romilda Vane," she said loudly and confidently.
"Why don't you join us in our compartment? You don't have to sit with them," she added in a stage whisper, indicating Neville's bottom, which was sticking out from under the seat again as he groped around for Trevor, and Luna, who was now wearing her free Spectrespecs, which gave her the look of a demented, multicoloured owl.
"They're friends of mine," said Harry coldly.
"Oh," said the girl, looking very surprised. "Oh. Okay."
And she withdrew, sliding the door closed behind her.
"People expect you to have cooler friends than us," said Luna, once again displaying her knack for embarrassing honesty.
"You are cool," said Harry shortly. "None of them was at the Ministry. They didn't fight with me."
"That's a very nice thing to say," beamed Luna. Then she pushed her Spectrespecs farther up her nose and settled down to read the Quibbler.
"We didn't face him though," said Neville, emerging from under the seat with fluff and dust in his hair and a resigned-looking Trevor in his hand. "You did. You should hear my gran talk about you. 'That Harry Potter's got more backbone than the whole Ministry of Magic put together!' She'd give anything to have you as a grandson…"
Harry laughed uncomfortably and changed the subject.
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After a very…interesting…lunch with Professor Slughorn, the new Professor whom he had helped Professor Dumbledore persuade to come back and teach the coming year, Harry left quickly, just beating Blaise Zabini out of the door as the Slytherin was about to push past, still shooting him a filthy look that Harry returned in interest, and managed to stop himself from following the young man to his compartment in his Invisibility Cloak out of impulsive curiosity about Malfoy.
Instead, he waited for Neville, and together they went back to their compartment, taking it in turns with Hermione and Luna to get changed with Ron.
Eventually, the yearly train journey was over, and the five pushed through the crowds, the Trio waving to Hagrid on the way past as he greeted the first-years, the gesture of which was returned enthusiastically by the giant man, before they moved on to the carriages awaiting the student's arrivals.
Pausing only for a second, to gently pat the Thestral that would guide their carriage, Harry climbed on last and shut the door, causing it to move forward, first in the herd, towards the magnificent castle.
The trip was conducted in silence, all the students in deep thought as the memories of the previous year, some good, many bad, rushed back to them. Harry in particular was temporarily taken - it was different seeing the Castle from the outside, and on the first day of term - it brought back a lot of painful memories for him.
All things get worse before they got better, he just hoped the worst was over last year.
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The last crumbs of dessert, however few, vanished as Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet.
The talk and laughter echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly.
"The very best of evenings to you!" he said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room.
"What happened to his hand!" Hermione gasped.
Apparently, she had just noticed the man's injury.
She was not the only one. Dumbledore's right hand was as blackened and dead-looking as it had been on the night he had come to fetch Harry from the Dursleys. Whispers swept the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury.
"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. "Now…to our new students, welcome, to our old students welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you…"
His speech continued for a minute until, as per usual, he reached the staff appointments of the year.
"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. "Professor Slughorn" - Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big waist coated belly casting the table below in shadow- "is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."
"Potions?"
"Potions?"
The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether they had heard right.
"Potions?" said Ron and Hermione together, turning to stare at Harry. "But you said-"
"Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising his voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"No!" said Harry, so loudly that many heads turned in his direction. He didn't care; he was staring up at the staff table, incensed.
How could Snape be given the Defence Against the Dark Arts job after all this time? Hadn't it been widely known for years that Dumbledore didn't trust him to do it?
"But Harry, you said that Slughorn was going to be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts!" said Hermione.
"I thought he was!" said Harry.
Snape, who was sitting on Dumbledore's right, did not stand up at the mention of his name; he merely raised a hand in lazy acknowledgement of the applause from the Slytherin table, yet Harry was sure he could detect a look of triumph on the features he loathed so much.
"Well, there's one good thing," he said savagely. "Snape'll be gone by the end of the year."
"What do you mean?" asked Ron.
"That job's jinxed. No one's lasted more than a year…Quirrell actually died doing it….Personally, I'm going to keep my fingers crossed for another death…"
"Harry!" said Hermione, shocked and reproachful.
"He might just go back to teaching Potions at the end of the year," said Ron reasonably. "That Slughorn bloke might not want to stay long-term. Moody didn't."
Dumbledore cleared his throat. Harry, Ron and Hermione were not the only ones talking; the whole Hall had erupted in a buzz of conversation at the news that Snape had finally achieved his heart's desire. Seemingly oblivious to the sensational nature of the news he had just imparted, Dumbledore said nothing more about staff appointments, but waited a few seconds to ensure that silence was absolute before continuing.
Harry, however, paid scarce attention.
All he could focus on was Snape, the man he hated, quite possibly even more than Voldemort himself, and vowed to himself that this year, the man would not be able to get the upper-hand on him, or get away with mocking his parents one more time…or there would be hell to pay.
After receiving their new schedules, Ron and Harry headed up to the Common Room for their first free period of the year, hanging around for an hour by the fireplace before going to their second period, Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Harry would have called it a disastrous first lesson, bar the fact that he was already highly advanced at non-verbal spells.
That was the only good thing he could think of.
"Pathetic, Weasley," said Snape, after a while of watching Ron, near purple in the face, his lips tightly compressed to save himself from the temptation of muttering the incantation.
"Here - let me show you -"
He turned his wand on Harry quickly and shot off a sickly yellow spell.
Harry, who watched as it came towards him almost in slow motion, felt his eyes come alight with angry flickers of fire, and threw up a 'Protego' out of instinct. Of course, he knew more advanced ones, but it was not good to give the enemy an advantage, after all…and he wouldn't trust Snape as far as he could throw him.
It was so strong that Snape was knocked off-balance and hit a desk.
The whole class had looked around and now watched as Snape righted himself, scowling, but unable to find anything wrong, simply walked on.
"Ron, mate, just relax, and just say it in your mind…it's like saying it aloud, you know…if you can hear it loudly in your head, it'll have to effect of being spoken." Harry told a puce Ron after Snape left.
Ron, taking this advice, was very pleased whenever a stunner came out, and Harry deflected it easily.
"Whenever you put it like that, mate, it makes it sound almost easy." Ron grinned, obviously very pleased with himself.
Harry had grinned and had quietly slipped him a sugar quill for a reward, which was accepted gladly.
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After lunch, it was time for their Potions lesson of the year.
Harry, thankfully, had known to get his Potions ingredients already, however Ron, slightly embarrassed had had to ask for them, as well as a copy of Advanced Potion-Making.
He was about to change it because of the writing all over it whenever Harry caught sight of the book, curious.
"Ron, let me have a look at that for a second, would you…? You can use mine, if you like."
Ron shrugged and took Harry's book before going to collect the ingredients the rest of the class had already rushed to get…Felix Felicis for a price was apparently very effective at getting a class to work.
Harry frowned slightly as he read the instructions…he was a very good Potions-maker as Damien, something he had found out from Moony (which he had decided to call the man) had come from his mum, and he knew about these changes for better effect…but it was still rather strange, and he had quietly copied the book before taking the real one, stuffing it into his bag, and leaving the freshly copied one on Ron's desk.
He thought there was something odd about the book - his gut told him so, and he trusted it…he decided he'd take it to Minerva after class before rushing to work.
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With a small bottle of Felix Felicis tucked neatly in his pocket, his price from the day's successful potion, Harry had quickly left his friends and soon found himself outside the Transfiguration classroom.
He knocked on the door and waited.
"Enter."
The noise in the room died down as he pushed open the door, and he looked around to see a room full of wide-eyed first-years, Gryffindors he knew, staring at him.
Slightly nervous, he entered, shutting the door behind him out of habit, and walked up to the front to where Minerva sat, looking at him with well-hidden curiosity.
"What is it, Potter?" She asked calmly before turning back to her class and looking at them.
They hurriedly began talking again, and working on transforming their matchsticks in to needles.
He set his bag on the floor and pulled out the book he had copied, turning it over, to where something small was written on the back cover.
'This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince'.
She studied it, flicking through the pages.
"Wherever did you find this?" She asked quietly, still looking through it.
"It's Ron's…he had to borrow a copy of Advanced Potion-Making from Professor Slughorn, and I copied it, giving him the copied one back. I knew there was something strange about it, and saw this whenever I took a look over it before the end of class."
She studied it closer, analysing it.
"It says this book is fifty years old…but that is very unusual…"
"Why?" asked Harry, leaning forward slightly.
"Because I recognise this hand-writing very well…this handwriting belongs to Professor Snape."
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"It belongs to Professor Snape!" said Hermione incredulously, turning the book over in her hands.
"That's what Min said," replied Harry, " and she receive messages from him a lot, about staff meetings and the likes."
"But it says the person is…"
"A Half-Blood…and apparently, his mother's surname was Prince…his father was a Muggle…just like Riddle." He added bitterly.
"But…but how could he be a Death Eater? It's known that Voldemort doesn't accept Half-Bloods or Muggleborns, well, apart from very rare circumstances…"
"He would have had to play up his Pureblood side, wouldn't he?" Ron cut in, taking out his own copy of the book. "That's the only way…although he might have been wanted because of his abilities in Potions…I mean, look at these adjustments…and Harry knows that they work, don't you?"
Harry nodded wordlessly.
"So really, Half-Blood Prince is working of his blood and his name…it's not a real title or anything…" Ron concluded.
Hermione snatched the book back and looked through it.
"All we need to figure out about him now is how he'll finish the year - alive or dead." Harry said wryly.
Finite! Wow, that was definately the hardest chapter to write so far.
I know that was all a bit sudden, but as I said, there's a lot of changes to the book.
I'm not very good at fluffy reunions etc., so hopefully you'll forgive me for that…again, the following chapters will contain HBP spoilers…just a warning.
Let me know what you think.