lomonaaeren

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Part Two

“You, too?”

Theo glanced up, blinking. He’d been rubbing his left arm, sinceå it usually ached after he’d been in Quirrell’s classroom, and hadn’t paid enough attention to his surroundings. That meant Potter had been able to approach him unawares.

Potter, who had a hand over his scar.

Theo narrowed his eyes and decided to take a gamble. He could always pretend that his arm hurt for another reason if Potter thought he was too odd to respond to. “Yes. After every class. Your head hurts?”

Potter nodded and bit his lip. “I thought I was just allergic to garlic. I never used much of it when I—I mean, my aunt never used much of it when she cooked.”

Obvious. But Theo had little interest in making Potter be less obvious, since being able to read him so easily was an advantage. “Now you don’t think so?”

“How could garlic be making your arm ache? I would believe it could give someone a headache because of the concentrations in Quirrell’s classroom, but your arm?”

“The left arm is where the Death Eaters had their Dark Marks!”

Theo sighed. Weasley had emerged from the classroom and ranged himself mulishly at Potter’s right hand. Since the day when they had found out that Potter didn’t know what Death Eaters were, Weasley had been scrambling to catch up and teach Potter history and other subjects he really should know, not seeming to realize that Potter had already seen him being deficient. “Weasley—”

“He doesn’t have a Dark Mark, Ron! He was a baby when Voldemort was rising!”

Theo started so hard that his satchel slid right off his shoulder and onto the floor. “Potter, you don’t want to say the name.”

“Why not?” Theo was the one being glared at this time from fierce green eyes under a mop of black hair so shaggy he was amazed that Potter could see, sometimes. “Hagrid told it to me when I asked, and he said Professor Dumbledore says it!”

“Yes, but you’re not Dumbledore,” Theo felt compelled to point out, stooping to pick up his satchel. “You’ll mostly get people jumping and shrieking when you say it.” He glanced at Weasley, who had indeed shrieked. “Don’t you agree, Weasley?”

The blood traitor stomped his foot a few times, and then said, “Better than calling him the Dark Lord, like you do.”

“I was raised with the name Dark Lord,” Theo mumbled, glancing away as if ashamed. “I would have been punished if I didn’t say it.” He hunched his shoulders and waited for Potter to defend him, which he did reliably.

Sure enough, Potter said, “Leave him alone, Ron. And I’ll—consider thinking about the name. But you don’t know any reason that your arm should ache, Nott?”

Theo hesitated theatrically. He really had to be theatrical around most of the Gryffindors, or they wouldn’t have caught anything. Potter said, “What?”

“There’s a chance,” Theo said slowly, “that the Dark Marks of Death Eaters could impact their children. The Mark is a little-studied and less understood piece of magic. As far as I know, none of the other Death Eaters’ children have ever experienced this, but they might not have talked to me about it. And since I wasn’t Sorted into Slytherin, I’m not as close with them as I might have been.”

Weasley was the one who made the connection, which was the best result Theo could have hoped for. “Wait,” he said, his eyes wide. “Are you saying that maybe the ache in your left arm is connected to the ache in Harry’s scar?”

Potter clapped his hand over the scar.

Theo made a show of nodding. “I don’t know for sure, but that scar is infamously the mark of the Dark Lord’s failed Killing Curse. Maybe something in Quirrell’s classroom is setting it off. He has traveled abroad. He might have brought back Dark artifacts from somewhere he visited.”

“But then it wouldn’t be connected to You-Know-Who!”

Theo sneered a little at Weasley. “Of course it could be. The Dark Lord had followers in many countries, including Russia and Bulgaria. And there are those who would hunt down souvenirs of him, the same way that people probably went to Godric’s Hollow to look for souvenirs at Potter’s house.”

“What’s Godric’s Hollow? And what do you mean souvenirs?”

Theo turned back to Potter and pulled on concern like a mask. “I’m sorry, I thought you knew. Godric’s Hollow is the village where your parents lived when you were attacked by the Dark Lord. He destroyed most of the house, but the Ministry established a memorial on the property, and it’s famously been looted a few times by souvenir hunters.”

Potter looked sick. Weasley crowded up close to his side and scowled at Theo. “You didn’t have to tell him that!”

“Why not?” Theo asked in interest. “Were you planning on keeping it from him? Fascinating. Lying isn’t a very Gryffindor habit, Weasley.”

“You—you—”

Theo smiled. Weasley was at least entertaining enough to make Theo regret a little less that he’d been put in Gryffindor.

“Just stop,” Potter whispered, and Weasley shut up. Theo found himself doing the same thing, which annoyed him. Potter rubbed his forehead again, but Theo didn’t think that it was really about the scar this time. “I just learned the name of the place where my parents lived, and—I’ve never been to see their house. I’ve never been to see their graves. I didn’t know any of this.” He opened his eyes and looked at Theo. “Do you know if they’re buried in Godric’s Hollow?”

“I would assume they are,” Theo said, startled into honesty. “But I don’t really have any idea. It’s not the kind of thing that my father discusses with me.”

“Maybe Hagrid would know,” Potter said, and then turned and wandered away in a daze. Theo watched him and thought of saying something else about the scar and the ache in his arm, but now didn’t seem like the time.

“Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing,” Weasley snapped, and Theo turned back to focus on him.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re trying to take my place as Harry’s best friend! Accusing me of lying, acting like I just need to shut up instead of helping him—”

Theo laughed at him. “You’re not a very good best friend if you do lie to him,” he said, and watched in delight as Weasley flushed with rage. “But no, I’m not trying to do that. Potter obviously makes his own decisions about who he wants as his friends. If he wants me, then there’s nothing you’ll be able to do about it.”

This time, Weasley’s spluttering was wordless. Theo rolled his eyes and marched away in the direction of the Great Hall, since it was lunchtime. It said a lot about how upset Weasley was that he’d forgotten that.

Idly, Theo did wonder about the ache in his arm, although he remembered that it had sometimes tingled since he came back. The Dark Mark was indeed little understood, and he had no idea how it would interact with the amulet he had created.

But at least he could do some research on his own, and try to see if he could identify whatever artifact Quirrell had brought back from his travels.

*

“Nott?”

Theo blinked and turned around.

Potter was standing behind him in the corridor that led to the Great Hall, looking a little desperate. “Did you hear what Ron said about Hermione in Charms today?”

“No,” Theo said with perfect truth. He sat with Potter in most of their classes, but that particular day, he had had enough of Weasley’s stupidity and sought out a seat near their Ravenclaw classmates. “Was it something stupid?”

Potter grimaced but nodded. “Yeah. He called her a nightmare and said it was no wonder she didn’t have any friends, and Hermione heard him and ran past him crying. Lavender said that she was still in a girls’ bathroom on the first floor. I don’t—I don’t feel right celebrating Halloween without giving her a chance to celebrate it, too.”

Theo wondered what in the world this had to do with him. “Well, all right. Do you want me to tell people you’re not going to be at the feast?”

“No. I want you to come with me and coax her out of the bathroom.”

“Potter…”

“Look,” Potter interrupted, “I call people like Hermione I’m not friends with by their first names. I am your friend. Can I call you Theodore? Unless you really don’t want me to.”

Theo gaped at him. Then he realized what he was doing and pulled himself sharply back under control. He had to stop letting Potter affect him like this.

But he wanted to keep Potter thinking he was sincere and friendly, adapting to being a Gryffindor, the same way he wanted to keep other people thinking that. The more he thought about this plan to go and get Granger, the more it appealed to him. It would accomplish both goals, since Professor McGonagall would think that Theo was being chivalrous or some such.

And it would make him look better to Potter than Weasley, who was the cause of Granger’s being in the bathroom in the first bloody place.

“All right,” Theo said, on a long exhalation. “But please call me Theo. I hate Theodore.” It was what the Dark Lord had called him.

Potter’s eyes widened. “Thanks, Theo! Can you call me Harry?”

Theo nodded. This was a strange kind of alliance, he thought, but at least it was honest. And dealing with honest people was an advantage, as long as he didn’t fall into the trap of imitating them.

“Lead on, Harry.”

Harry beamed and bounced down the corridor like a Crup puppy. Theo took a moment to make sure that his face didn’t show all his amusement, which might be obvious enough for even Harry to pick up on, and then followed him.

*

“Hermione? It’s all right, you can come out.”

Theo rolled his eyes at the least effective opening line in any negotiation ever, and stared over Harry’s head at the ceiling of the girls’ bathroom. If they’d caught Granger with her knickers down, he did not want to know about it.

“Go away!”

“I’m sorry for what Ron said. But I don’t think it’s fair that you should have to miss the Halloween feast because of him. Come on out?”

“Go away!”

This sequence repeated a few more times, while Theo impatiently checked the time with a charm. Harry cleared his throat finally and asked, “Do you really just want to stay in there? I promise, Ron didn’t come with me. Theo is here instead.”

“Theo?”

“Theo Nott.”

Granger peered out of the stall she was hiding in, fully dressed, to Theo’s relief. “I’ve heard about him!” she said, voice quivering a bit. “Ron said that he makes fun of Muggleborns and comes from a family that hates people like me!”

“The same Ron told you this who also insulted you and made you go cry in the bathroom for hours?” Theo asked.

Granger hesitated.

“Ron’s a prat sometimes,” said Harry hastily. “I promise, Hermione, he was wrong. I want to be your friend! And Theo’s really nice, he would want to be your friend too!” he added blithely, ignoring the way that Theo stared at him.

No one in the history of the world has ever described me as really nice.

While Theo was considering that maybe this was what he got for creating a new history, Granger gave a watery smile and stepped out of the stall. “All right,” she said. “Maybe Ron was a prat, and—”

Theo ignored the rest of her words as a sudden smell like rotting meat mixed with burning leaves came to him down the corridor. He spun around and stared in disbelief. Abruptly, rumors he had heard in his first first year and paid little attention to seemed incredibly important.

“What’s that?” Granger complained, holding her hand in front of her nose.

“I don’t know,” Harry said, eyes wide. “Maybe someone cast a curse on this corridor?”

“It’s a troll,” Theo said, drawing his wand.

“A what?” Granger squeaked.

“How did one get in here?” Harry demanded.

Theo had his suspicions, but he wasn’t about to share them with a pair of children. “We need to get out of here,” he hissed, and looked from side to side. However, there wasn’t any other exit from the bathroom, and trolls had a keen enough sense of smell that hiding in the loo wouldn’t do any good. Unless—

He aimed his wand at the faucets and spat the Blasting Curse. Multiple streams of water arched into the air and covered the floor and the walls and Granger and Harry with a drenching rain. Theo hastily raised an Umbrella Charm.

“What was that spell?” Granger asked, eyes bright.

“There’s a troll, Granger!” Theo almost yelled in her face. “Worry about it later!”

“Are you going to try and blind the troll with water?”

“No, P—Harry, I’m hiding our scent!” Theo latched onto Harry’s arm and dragged him towards one of the cubicles, slamming the door behind them and leaving Granger to fend for herself. Harry was his ladder to power. It wouldn’t look good if Granger died, but she had been hiding up here all afternoon. She could hide a little more.

From the sound of a slamming door, Granger had at least found shelter. Theo crouched down and struggled to keep Harry quiet, hissing under his breath until Harry got the point and shut up. Then Theo was listening himself, and trying not to smell.

The troll came into the bathroom. There was the sound of what must be a dragging club, and Theo put his eye to the crack in the cubicle door to see the troll staring at itself in the mirrors. Then it raised its club and slammed it into the glass, making shards fly everywhere the way Theo had made water fly.

Granger screamed.

Theo shut his eyes and wished savagely that leaving her to die was an option, then flung open the door and hurled himself into the battle.

The troll was still turning around, staring back and forth and sniffing as it tried to make its nose work in the sheer watery chaos. Theo had a few moments before it orientated on him as a threat, and he used them. He flung his wand in the direction of its ankles and hissed the Slicing Charm that they’d learned a week before to cut parchment.

The troll howled as Theo severed its hamstrings—in this, its anatomy wasn’t that different from a human’s—and tried to take a step anyway. It promptly fell over. Theo ran into the cubicles, hoping that its head was going to miss the door of the stall where Harry was hiding. And probably the one where Granger was hiding.

It did, barely, although it smashed open the door of another stall. The thing was still conscious, bellowing and trying to swing its club, until Theo Banished a stone from the wall at its head that nearly cracked its skull open. Then it was unconscious.

And Theo was panting, trembling, standing in the middle of the bathroom and staring at a troll that could have killed him. He could have died long before he’d had to face a comparable level of violence in his first life.

“Theo, are you okay?”

Harry’s arm was around his shoulders. Why? Theo wouldn’t have touched someone in his state. But he supposed Gryffindors did, so he made himself stand still and say, “Yes.”

“You don’t look okay.”

Why did you ask the question?

Theo just shook his head slowly and said, “I’ve never—hit anything with the spells I just used. Most of the time, my father would just have me practice on targets or something.” He blinked and did his best to sound shocked at his own violence instead of shocked by the fact that he’d had to fight for his life. “I—it was unexpected.”

“I understand.” Harry squeezed Theo’s shoulders and then clapped him on the back as he stepped away. He looked impressed. “You did great! Hermione, come look at what Theo did to the troll!”

Theo rolled his eyes, because Harry might want to be Granger’s friend, but he didn’t understand her at all. And indeed, Granger peeked out from behind the door she was hiding behind, squeaked again, and promptly slammed it shut.

Theo jerked his head up at the sound of running footsteps, and snorted a little when the professors piled into the bathroom. Why hadn’t they stopped the troll before this?

Well, of course, they hadn’t in Theo’s original timeline, either, but circumstances had played out differently this time. He’d think the difference would have been enough to make them catch the troll, but apparently not.

“Who did this?” Professor McGonagall asked, her pointy hat askew on her head. She turned and stared at the downed troll. “Mr. Potter? Ms. Granger? Mr. Nott?”

“I did, Professor,” Theo said. “I sliced its ankles with a Slicing Charm and then Banished a stone into its head. I was—I was acting on adrenaline.” And he let himself shake, so that his story would look more believable.

“Of course you did! But—”

“What were you doing here in the first place, Mr. Nott?” Snape cut in. His eyes darted to Harry and hardened. Harry swallowed a little, but lifted his chin, standing stubbornly at Theo’s side. Theo thought he could see how Harry had formed true, loyal friendships with Weasley and Granger. He was stubborn enough to make them devoted to him.

I will not be devoted. He’s an ally, not a friend. I need to remember that. I’ve already been dragged into one insane adventure.

“Harry said that Granger was crying in the bathroom because of something Weasley said to her,” Theo said, throwing Weasley off the speeding broom without a qualm. Maybe he would learn some manners from this. “We thought it would be a shame for her to miss the Halloween feast, so we came to get her. But then we smelled the troll, and we tried to hide, but I had to use magic against it.”

“This kind of magic?”

Theo’s left arm began to burn. He noted distantly that Professor Quirrell had walked into the room, and hid his grimace. That rather slit the throat of the theory that the cause of the burning was some Dark artifact in the Defense classroom.

“Yes, this kind of magic,” Theo said, and glared at Snape without meeting his eyes. He knew the man was a Legilimens, and Theo’s Occlumency was centered on hiding the fact of the amulet and his time travel, so he wasn’t sure the shields would hold up to a swift probe from a master. “Since no one else was here to help us.”

Snape started to say something else, but McGonagall interrupted him. “None of you are hurt.”

“I think Hermione has a little cut on her head, Professor,” Harry said.

McGonagall turned to fuss over Granger. Theo rolled his eyes as subtly as he could. Of course it was Granger who attracted the attention and care, not the one who had actually cast the spells that had saved their lives.

But then again, he didn’t want that much more attention. He just wanted to get out of here and lie down and tremble.

It seemed it wasn’t to be, because someone else halted in the corridor outside and spoke, and Snape turned and listened. Then he turned back with an unpleasant smile. “Mr. Nott, Mr. Potter, the Headmaster would like to speak with you.”

Well, fuck.