Chapter Two of 'A Path of Stones and Thorns'- Shadowy Corridors

[lomonaaeren]

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Chapter Two—Shadowy Corridors

“And there’s no sign that he recognized you? At all?”

“No.”

James reached out helplessly, and Lily stumbled into his embrace. She didn’t cry. They had shed so many tears for Harry, and none of them had helped.

They had thought they were doing the right thing.

James had only intended to change Harry’s face shape and his hair, the things that might have revealed him as a Potter to any hunting Death Eaters. And Lily had cast an enchantment that would hide the color of her eyes. Nothing more than that, not really. They had intended for him to live in the Muggle world until it was safe to come home.

Who knew that the combination of spells would really make Harry a different person, the Harry Grayson they had pretended he was?

Lily leaned on his shoulder and shook until she was ready to stand upright again. James watched her press her lips into an unconvincing smile. “Maybe I can get him to talk to me about other things.”

“What other things?” James didn’t mean to destroy any plans she came up with; he just felt so helpless. “He can’t take your class for years, and he’s in Slytherin.” Harry’s House more than anything else spoke to the damage Petunia must have done to him.

Lily swallowed. “I know. But we have an interest in Potions in common. Horace can’t stop bragging about him at meals. I could offer to tutor him. I think he’d like that. Poor boy, he must be desperate for connections.”

James sighed and leaned back against the wall of their little cottage in Godric’s Hollow. Lily had come through the Floo. Technically, she wasn’t allowed to do that during the school term, but Albus would look the other way, given that he knew what had happened to Harry. “All right. If you think that would work.”

“Something’s got to, James.”

James just nodded. He knew what Lily meant. In a few years, their daughter Arianna would be starting at Hogwarts, and it would be terrible if Harry couldn’t get to know his own sister.

Maybe she would be able to talk to Harry. Not tell him who he really was, since the same magic that held their tongues still would prevent her from telling Harry, but be his friend. It was a better plan than the one Lily had come up with, for James’s Galleon.

But James wasn’t going to discourage Lily from pursuing that path, anyway. Maybe she would be able to find her way back to Harry in some way none of them could predict. Maybe she would become Harry’s mentor, and they could maintain a close connection to their son while they continued to research a way past this magic and make him their son again in truth.

There had to be a way. James refused to believe they had lost their son forever because of a stupid mistake like this.

“Well.” Lily stood straight and pasted a smile on her face that made James reach for her. She leaned up and kissed him without changing the smile. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” James whispered, and watched his wife vanish through the Floo.

“Daddy! Patrick took my book and he won’t give it back!”

James blinked away tears and turned towards the door that led to the stairs. He wanted his older son back, but for now, he had other children who needed him.

*

“What do you think about Weasley?”

Harry blinked at Malfoy over the top of the tome on defensive spells he was reading. It listed most of the magic as too complicated to be cast by first-years, but Harry would try some of it anyway. “Not a lot. Why, do you want me to do something to him?”

Malfoy gave him a long, slow look. Harry just waited. He had learned within a few days that trying to guess what purebloods meant only resulted in laughter and mockery. He didn’t want to risk that when his position with Malfoy was still precarious.

For that matter, his position with Nott was precarious, too. Harry didn’t doubt for a second that Nott would have walked away from him if they didn’t have the secret of McLaggen’s humiliation binding them.

“I only wondered if you felt some sympathy for him.”

“Why would I?”

“Both of you grew up poor.”

Harry stiffened, and then noted the way that Malfoy’s eyes were fastened on him, cataloging his reaction. Of course Harry, as a fellow Slytherin and a Mudblood, was of more interest to Malfoy than Weasley, even if there was some sort of feud between the Malfoy and Weasley families. He shook his head. “He’s loud.”

“So is Flint.”

Harry half-snorted. Marcus Flint, Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, was both a pureblood and someone who had a habit of leading his team to victory. “He can afford to be.”

“And Weasley?”

“Can only afford to be because of his blood and because he’s in a House that tolerates that sort of thing.”

“Somehow, I wonder if we’re talking about exactly the same kind of loudness.”

“Probably not.”

Malfoy continued watching Harry. Harry watched him back. Then Malfoy abruptly turned away and walked over to another corner of the common room, loudly criticizing Goyle’s attempt to play chess.

Harry went back to his book, knowing there was more than one pair of eyes on him.

It doesn’t matter. I’m going to survive. They can make sure that I’m not as prominent or as loud as other people, but I’m not going to let them kill me.

*

“Mr. Grayson. I’d like to speak to you, please.”

Harry turned around and nodded, keeping his best blank, polite expression on his face. Headmaster Dumbledore could make Harry speak to him, but he couldn’t break him. “Of course, sir.”

The Headmaster turned and walked away from the line of Slytherin first-years trailing to Potions. Nott and Malfoy both stared at him. Harry walked away from them without speaking. They might share certain secrets, a certain sense of vengeance, but he didn’t owe them an explanation.

The Headmaster walked up a few staircases in silence with Harry. Harry wondered why. Had he managed to break some unwritten rule in such a way that the Headmaster didn’t even know how to approach it with him?

But no, Harry was sure that wasn’t it, or the other Slytherins would have taunted him about it.

Finally, they came to an ugly gargoyle. The Headmaster spoke a soft word to it, soft enough that Harry couldn’t hear, and it sprang aside to reveal a hole in the wall filled with—a moving staircase.

Harry blinked as they stepped onto it. He would have thought a thing like this would be too Muggle for Hogwarts. Then again, they did ride a repurposed Muggle train to school.

When they got into the Headmaster’s office, it was too overwhelming for Harry to focus on one thing for long. He got a glimpse of the twinkling, spinning silver instruments, the phoenix on its perch, the bookshelves and the amount of portraits on the walls, and he promptly ducked his head and took the chair when the Headmaster asked him to.

“Ah—how are you settling in, my boy?”

Maybe this is an interview that they give all the Muggleborns? Harry hadn’t heard about it, but then, for all he knew, he was the only Muggleborn in Slytherin, and he didn’t have friends in other Houses.

“All right, sir.”

“And the Slytherins? They have been welcoming to you?”

Maybe this made sense after all. The older Slytherins were always talking about how the Headmaster favored Gryffindor and hated Slytherin, so maybe he was trying to get Harry to spill details he could use against people whose families he hated?

It made more sense than him just happening to invite Harry for a chat, anyway.

“They’ve been fine, sir.”

“I find that hard to believe, my dear boy.”

Then why ask me? Harry assembled a calm expression on his face and looked up. “There’s some tensions, sir. But I’m not sure what you want me to say. I’m not one of the students you favor.”

The Headmaster startled, and his eyes widened. For a second, he seemed about to choke. “What?”

“I’m not a Gryffindor, or someone whose family has a history of fighting for your side of the war.” Harry wondered for a second why the Headmaster looked like he was about to have a stroke, but put it out of his mind. He had to survive the moment in front of him. “So are you asking me to betray my Housemates? Or lie to you? And then what will happen to me? Everyone saw you pull me away from my yearmates, after all.”

“Harry—there is—something you should know.”

Harry watched the Headmaster narrowly. He was struggling as though someone had put a heavy lead weight on his tongue. But that still wasn’t Harry’s problem, and although he sat and waited and kept the polite smile on his face, the Headmaster never did say anything more.

“You may go,” the man said at last, head bowed, as though Harry had defeated him. That didn’t make any sense. Even the Slytherins who hated him said that Dumbledore was a powerful wizard, and Harry was a first-year with only wandless magic and a talent for Potions going for him. “But please feel free to come speak to me if—if you any questions at all.”

“Of course, sir,” Harry said, with the fakest polite smile he had ever managed, and stood and left.

When he got down the moving staircase, he closed his eyes and shook his head. Then he set out towards the Potions classroom at a brisk pace, because he was damned if he was going to lose House points because of this.

Why are so many of the professors here so strange? They call Professor Slughorn greedy because he wants to make connections, but he’s a marvel of clarity compared to these people.

*

Albus bowed his head and folded his hands over his face. They shook, and for once, he felt every year of his age.

Defeated.

He had been so sure that he could get past the compulsion that wouldn’t let Lily speak the truth to Harry. After all, he hadn’t directly been part of the disownment spells, and he didn’t have a blood relation to the boy. There should be no reason that the magic would deny him.

But it seemed that Lily and James had accidentally set up a disownment so strong that it literally wouldn’t let anyone speak about Harry Grayson being Harry Potter. The person the boy had been before his adoption in the Muggle world had ceased to exist.

Albus closed his eyes and hoped the boy would make it through Slytherin, because they would be able to offer so much less help than he’d thought they would be able to.

*

“What did the Headmaster want?”

“For me to betray you.”

Nott stopped walking. Harry kept walking, and turned around with an expression that he made sure to render faintly impatient.

“What?” Nott whispered.

“Did you or did you not hear me?”

Nott narrowed his eyes. They were alone in a corridor that led to one of the lesser-used staircases, at the moment, and so was a less popular route to the library. But Nott still laid his hand on his wand. “Don’t test me, Grayson.”

“I told you what he wanted. He said a few cryptic things, and acted like there was something he wanted to say and couldn’t.” Harry had already begun to envision the air around Nott’s head getting warmer, in case he needed fire. He kept his voice clipped and soft. “He claimed that he wanted to make sure I was doing all right in Slytherin, and didn’t believe me when I said I was fine. So then I asked him why he cared so much when I wasn’t a Gryffindor or someone whose family had fought for his side, and he said there was something I should know. But he didn’t say what. He just said I could leave.”

Nott continued to stare at him. Harry fed a little more magic into the air around the other boy’s head, and waited.

“That’s—strange,” Nott said at last.

“It is.” Harry shrugged and leaned back against the nearest wall. “I suppose he probably approached me because I’m the only Muggleborn Sorted into Slytherin for a long time. Maybe he thought he could turn me into a spy.”

“And because you saw through his ploy, he decided that he wouldn’t try to continue manipulating you? Maybe. Although I think he’s smarter than to be outmaneuvered by an eleven-year-old boy.”

“Maybe. I wouldn’t know. New to this world, remember?”

“Fewer people are going to realize that as the years go by. You’re doing better and better at navigating it.”

Harry tilted his head to the side and studied Nott intently for a second. He appeared to mean it. Harry nodded and let the heat in the air around Nott’s head go. “Fair enough. Did you bring those ingredients I requested?”

Nott smirked and dipped his hand into his robe pocket. “Acromantula silk and cobwebs. Now are we going to our tutoring session?”

Harry carefully accepted the vials, watching Nott’s hands instead of them. He was sure that he could manage to Levitate them if Nott tried to drop them. “Yes. Although I don’t know why you can’t grasp the essential non-reactivity of amethyst dust.” Nott had tried to play a prank on a Gryffindor in Potions the other day that hadn’t worked because he’d mistaken amethyst dust for something that would actually explode.

Nott scowled. “I suppose I have a problem in general with non-reactive objects.”

He was staring at Harry as if expecting him to be insulted by being called an object. Harry wanted to snort. He had been called far worse than that at Privet Drive on a daily basis.

“Come on,” he said instead. “We’ll have plenty of time for me to explain it to you between now and dinner.”

Nott paused as Harry turned away and started walking to the library. Harry called invisible moisture to him this time. Maybe Nott had wanted to come up here, into a mostly private corridor, not just to make the ingredient trade but to set up an ambush.

But Nott shook his head, let out a quiet laugh, and followed Harry. When Harry looked over his shoulder, he was smiling.

Harry turned forwards again with a small shrug. Whatever made purebloods happy and got them to stop bothering him was fine.

*

“Hello, Mr. Grayson. Could I speak to you?”

Theo turned around and leaned against the wall outside the Charms classroom. The Muggle Studies Professor was once again approaching Grayson. Theo was interested to see how he handled her, especially after the “talk” with Headmaster Dumbledore the other day.

Theo didn’t subscribe to the insane theories of some of his Housemates that Professor Potter, or Dumbledore, or the remnants of the Order of the Phoenix, or someone else, had persuaded the Hat to put Grayson into Slytherin so he could spy on them. But it was interesting that all of these adults with no apparent connection to the random Muggleborn kid wanted to talk to him.

Grayson glanced up. His eyes were an unremarkable color between blue and hazel, and they were guarded. His eyes were the thing that made Theo peg him as a Slytherin, no matter what anyone else said. “Yes, Professor? What can I do for you?”

Professor Potter gave him a strained smile. Theo watched closely. Yes, it seemed that she was uncomfortable with Grayson. Almost—desperate? Theo didn’t know why she would be, but it was interesting.

And another curse in the theory that they were talking with him as a spy. Why approach Grayson in public if that was the case?

“I couldn’t help overhearing from Professor Slughorn that you’re extremely skilled in Potions,” Professor Potter said. She twisted her fingers together. Theo watched, but he couldn’t tell if there was some message buried in the gesture. Probably not. “I was fairly skilled myself, when I was in school. I wondered if you might like some tutoring? To make sure that your talent is nurtured? I know Professor Slughorn would do it himself, but he has so many students to handle…”

Grayson gave her his big eyes and wide smile. Theo had wondered where he’d learned those expressions, but he had to accept that he’d probably never know. It was hard to imagine Grayson becoming close enough to share. “Oh, thanks, professor, but no.”

Professor Potter paused, her face shocked. She probably hadn’t thought she’d be refused. “What?”

“I appreciate the offer, but it wouldn’t be fair.” Grayson could radiate concern when he wanted to, his head lifted and his eyes still as wide, his smile fading away. “To get tutoring when other students probably want that but couldn’t get it because, like you said, Professor Slughorn is too busy?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but that’s just not fair.”

Theo smothered his laughter in his sleeve. Of course talking about fairness was the perfect way to manipulate this particular professor, who had been a Gryffindor and talked about it more than anyone else except Sprout, according to the older Slytherins.

But he hadn’t thought Grayson would know that.

“Oh,” Professor Potter whispered. Her face was a little blank as she stared at Grayson. Then she visibly shook off the shock and smiled. “Well, of course, you would be welcome to bring any friends you liked along with you.”

“Haven’t you heard, Professor? I’m a Muggleborn in Slytherin. I don’t have any friends.”

Theo narrowed his eyes. That seemed a careless declaration to him, because it might make Professor Potter think badly of the House, and convince their paranoid Housemates that Grayson had betrayed them—

But, on the other hand, those same people would probably be more offended if Grayson had claimed friendship with them.

Theo half-smiled. There might not be any good solution for Grayson in some situations, but he had to admire the Muggleborn’s balancing act.

“None?”

“Not right now, Professor. Maybe later, if I can prove myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to prove yourself!” Professor Potter’s eyes flashed, and her hair seemed to flutter in a rising wind. “Blood purity is nothing but nonsense! I insist that you accept my tutoring, Mr. Grayson!”

She either didn’t notice or didn’t care that almost every Slytherin in the corridor was staring openly at them now. She leaned forwards and looked as if she were about to lay her hand on Grayson’s shoulder, but he flinched violently, and she paused. She looked around then, and drew back.

“I—see,” she said. “They’ve already infected you with their blood purity?”

“I think it’s more that it’s strange you’re offering me this tutoring, and you’ve apparently taught here for years, and never offered it to anyone before,” Grayson said. His voice was a low hiss. “So I have to wonder why I’m being singled out. Because you think I’m weak and not good at Potions, no matter what Professor Slughorn says? Or you think that you can manipulate me?”

Theo blinked. He had wondered if Grayson’s story about being direct with Dumbledore was just a story, but—obviously not.

And like the Headmaster, Professor Potter didn’t seem to know what to make of Grayson’s words. Her face froze in a strained smile. “What?”

“No, thank you, Professor,” Grayson, and turned his back, and marched into Charms.

Theo chuckled silently as he followed. He sat down next to Grayson, who gave him a long, wary look, as if he assumed this was some kind of ambush. Then he did the same thing to Draco when Draco sat on his other side.

Theo met Draco’s eyes over Grayson’s head. He didn’t know exactly why Draco had decided Grayson was useful—it wasn’t like he needed the Potions tutoring—but he was sure that Grayson hadn’t betrayed what he’d done to McLaggen. Otherwise, Draco would have worked in at least one sly comment about it when he had his next conversation with Theo.

Instead, all was well.

Draco simply inclined his head, his eyes glittering, and faced the front. After a moment, as Professor Flitwick began to speak, Theo did the same thing.

He was thinking.

He had approached Grayson in the first place because of his Potions skill and wandless magic, but someone with his strength of will? They were also worth approaching for that.

If only to make sure it will not be used against me.