His name was Shade Umbrus Dumbledore.
Harry Potter knew that a lot of good things were owed to him. It wasn't like he felt jealous that someone was so strong and powerful; it made sense that someone whom Dumbledore taught would be that great. What annoyed him was how even he could see the bloody unfairness of treatment in the way he acted. Professor Lupin had nearly died beneath the Malfoy Manor. He had been found, and rescued, but had Dumbledore Junior thought about the professor? No, of course he hadn't.
Sure, the twenty-three of December was a full moon, so perhaps freeing the professor would have been a poor tactical choice, as he had said as an excuse, but Harry couldn't help but think he was pulling his answers out of his ass.
He knew he shouldn't feel that way. He knew it, and yet he couldn't help but wonder if Dumbledore would still defend him if he ever woke up one day and decided to go kill some Slytherins for being gits.
Probably not. He'd be lucky if he didn't get sentenced to Azkaban for more than his remaining life.
"Well, at least he's on our side," Ron said, looking strangely happy. "For once we've got the Quaffle in our Chasers' hands."
"I don't think what he did is a good thing," Hermione said, for once sounding genuinely conflicted about the boy-wonder. "He's killed so many people in cold blood-"
"Death Eaters, Hermione. Death Eaters aren't people-they're criminals," Ron said.
"But he let Malfoy off the hook? Just like that?" Hermione pressed on. "He spouts he'll never forgive criminals if they cross him, and then he forgives Malfoy. Isn't that hypocrisy?"
"Draco repented, didn't he? He came looking for help, and at Hogwarts, if you ask for help, Shade will provide it." Harry answered, he couldn't help but spit that out as if it was a venomous thing. Even though there was no reason for it.
"That too!" Hermione huffed. "In Hogwarts a History, it's clearly stated how the castle doesn't follow someone's will just like that! Our Prefect rounds are normal-his end up finding all of the crying and bullied children because the 'castle showed him the way'," she rolled her eyes. "And when it comes to secret passages? They need passwords, you can't just speak to a statue and charm her to open up. It doesn't work that way. Unless you're one of the Founders, I guess, the castle doesn't just let any student do that."
"He was an orphan wasn't he? Might have been a long lost line, sole descendant or something like that," Ron remarked.
"That's impossible. Either you know what to say, or you're the one that built it," Hermione exhaled. "What annoys me the most is that he'll just be sitting at the Ravenclaw table, charming and smiling and utterly looking as fresh as a rose and people won't even bother with thinking about how they could be next, and the Wizengamot won't even protect them. They gave him a killing license, don't they realize that?"
Ron glanced at Harry, and Harry glanced back at Ron. "Hermione," Ron began, "If you fancy the bloody bad boy just ask him out?"
Hermione stared at Ron, and then at Harry. Harry quite happily decided to look out of the window, and stare at the sky.
"I do not fancy him!" Hermione hissed back, "I've never fancied him, and never will!"
"Yeah, sure," Ron said with a nod. "What is he doing today? Can I go visit him? Will he let me take another book out? Just ask him out and get shot down like everyone else that's tried."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You seem so sure he'd shoot me down, uh."
Ron shrugged. Harry kept looking at the very interesting clouds and their incredibly wonderful shapes. "Well, duh. He shot down everyone that sent him a Valentine last year, and the year before that. Want to send him one this year, see how he answers you?"
"I think I will," Hermione said, coolly. "Just to prove you're wrong, not because I'm interested."
"You do that," Ron kept smiling. "Meanwhile, Harry, listen." Harry turned to look at Ron, the clouds no longer as interesting as they had been but a second before. "You know how it's totally cool that you're seeing my sister," Ron began, and suddenly Harry wanted to throw himself out of the window and fly. That would be an incredibly interesting thing to do, yes, incredible and wonderful thing to do. "But you got to be careful when Valentine comes."
Harry furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"
"Well, you remember what happened with Romilda, right? Try not to make it a repeat performance," Ron continued.
"Romilda was a fool," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Using a love potion, and getting found out by Shade of all people-"
Harry blinked, and turned thoughtful. "He wasn't that angry about it. Got the Marauders' map off me and then..." he quieted down. "Wasn't he incredibly against Love Potions?"
"Well, duh, but that doesn't mean he'd kill someone over them," Ron rolled his eyes. "Sheesh, seriously. If that was the case then my parents would never have met."
"He also was against Divination," Hermione added. "Funny thing is, he runs away whenever he sees that hack of a professor down the corridor. Afraid she'd make a prediction on him, I bet-"
"Well, she got my prophecy right," Harry answered. "Or at least..." his voice turned bitter, "Made one that got my parents killed-"
"You think Shade knew she was a real seer back in third year? That the reason he was so vehemently against Divination?" Ron mulled the thought over.
"Don't think Dumbledore would have told him. He didn't tell Harry until recently-why would he even tell an orphan half-blood with no relation?" Hermione answered, only to suddenly stare at her own hands. "Oh."
She grew quiet.
"Oh?" Harry and Ron both looked at her.
"Oh, I've been so silly," Hermione mumbled. "It was in front of us all along."
"What? That he's a Dark Lord using his incredibly mind powers to rule over the professors and the world?" Ron asked, only to be shushed by Hermione's glare.
"No! Harry, Ron, don't you get it? He's got a prophecy involving him too!" Hermione snapped her fingers, as if that made all the sense in the world. "That's why he doesn't want to meet a seer, for fear they'd make another! That's why he doesn't like them-he's already under one!"
"Seriously?" Ron mouthed, "Uh, guess that makes sense."
"Next thing you know, he's got to fight an even Darker Lord," Harry remarked. "Or maybe my prophecy wasn't about me all along, and Voldemort got the wrong people..." that thought made him angry, if briefly.
"I know from a reputable source that he was born in March, Harry," Hermione acquiesced. "That's why-" she stared ahead, as if having suddenly realized something incredibly shocking.
"Hermione, you still there? Are you actually lost in your fantasies of Shade or something?" Ron asked, waving a hand in front of the girl.
"He knows things he's not supposed to know, and he's in a school he's not supposed to be in," Hermione said.
"Uh?"
"He knows French and is Italian," Hermione said, her ears slowly starting to turn red. "How does an Italian child end up in a British muggleborn orphanage? For what it matters, if he's grown his entire life there, how does he know Italian and French? Who taught him that? Who brought him to Italy, or France?"
"That's...you know, maybe an Italian wizard or witch and his lovely half went on vacation and toured Britain while V-Voldemort," Ron made an effort to speak the name, "Was hanging around, and he killed them both-"
"Then, how does he know he's Italian?" Hermione said, looking mighty triumphant. "If he's been dropped at a random orphanage by Obliviators that knew no better, he shouldn't know that. And if he wasn't, then why wasn't he left at an Italian Muggleborn orphanage? And if he's Italian, why isn't he attending Beauxbatons? Why Hogwarts?"
"There's something off about him, that's what you're saying," Ron said. "Look, Hermione-you do remember how we got soundly told off for attempting to as much as suggest he was bad? And that was in second year. Think about what would happen if we did that now-"
"I'm not suggesting he's bad!" Hermione huffed, "I'm suggesting...that there's something off."
"And whom should we ask about it?" Harry replied.
"Not whom, but what," Hermione said. "We need to find the paper trail. An Italian tourist got killed during Voldemort time. There's got to be a trace, or a Daily Prophet article."
"And if there is?" Harry stressed.
"Then maybe he's got a family left somewhere in Italy, no?" Hermione replied. "And if he doesn't-then he can at least know his parents' names! And..." she stammered, "And if instead we find nothing..."
"Then there's something off and he's such a great Dark Lord that can convince even the Wizengamot to let him walk away from mass murder," Ron said, sounding incredulous. "You know what, Hermione? All right! I'm in! Let's get humiliated once more while you attempt to catch his attention!"
"Ron!" Hermione huffed, but Harry simply turned thoughtful, and then nodded too.
"I think that doesn't sound like a bad idea," Harry said. "Where should we start from?"
"Well, I can send an Owl to the Daily Prophet for their old prints," Hermione said. "But while we're at it, someone will have to ask him."
"I'll do it," Ron said. "I'm reasonably sure he won't hex my ears off or kill me for asking."
"Try not to make him too suspicious, Ron," Hermione mused. "But then again, perhaps you should try that."
"Because if he gets suspicious, and does something, then it means he is indeed hiding something," Harry finished her thought, "But I don't think we'll find anything interesting."
He was wrong, of course.
He was Harry James Potter, incredibly foolish Gryffindor...
...and he had no idea just how wrong he would be in speaking those words.