Summary:
Previously. . . We see Draco's POV of the events and Harry and Hermione speaking french to a bunch of girls.
CHAPTER 9:
Winky was an elf clearly opposite to Dobby. She was more inclined to serve her master's while Dobby wanted freedom, or perhaps simple fairness. She hadn't asked permission to hide, running away while looking like a waddling duck. Harry grinned viciously, running through the trees as Ron and Hermione followed him in bewilderment.
"I hear Bagman's voice! Maybe your dad's with him." Harry yelled—a lie at the moment until he actually heard Bagman start cursing like a sailor.
He pushed through bushes, ducked down trees, and sent a string of light towards the direction he wanted to go. He didn't worry much about Hermione and Ron, much more focused on the matter at hand. The spell was a lighting charm, a bit more complex than your everyday Lumos .
His wand was still with him, thus someone else lost their wand. Hermione and Ron still had theirs, so it was none of them. He silently hoped it wasn't Draco— he didn't like the thought of losing the boy so soon. The ferret incident had yet to commence after all! A grin was plastered across his face as he moved hastily. The only thing in his head was seeing an all too familiar face— a face he had seen on the corpse of his friend. Alas, such luck was not his… most of the time.
"Harry, slow down!"
"'Mione's right! Slow down. It's not like we're being chased by a bunch of hippogriffs."
"Honestly Ronald! Where on earth would the hippogriffs even come from?!"
"Will you two shut up! Who knows who can hear us from your screaming."
The two went silent at the anger in Harry's voice, halting just as he did. He glared at them with such annoyance that they flinched away, murmuring apologies as Harry diligently searched the area for any magic signature. He felt a few, faint, but he felt it. He gripped his wand tightly, murmuring a spell under his breath.
" Luminas Invenio ." He whispered as the string of light changed course. Harry followed it without a second thought, trailing his finger on the light as if it were water.
Then footsteps came. The three of them immediately took to defensive stances, readying their wands for a fight. However, what greeted them were a boy and a girl. They had dark brown hair and black eyes, clearly siblings from their similarities.
The girl was furiously stomping on the ground, whilst the boy was trying to calm her down. " Asen, if we do not find father immediately— " the girl yelled, she was younger than them from her short stature and rather soft features.
" We would have found him if not for you losing your temper! "
" I did not lose my temper! Do you have any idea how hard it is to control my magic with all the emotions exploding?! "
Harry blinked in surprise to see the two. They were students of Durmstrang, Harry could vaguely remember. From what the girl had said, the boy was named Asen. Asen Oblansk? I forgot how scrawny he seemed. Harry thought before dragging his friends away.
"Who were they?"
"The Bulgarian Minister's children. Best not get too close to Bisera Oblansk in this situation. Heard she was a pyromaniac affected by her empathy."
Hermione squeaked while Ron gulped. They were well versed with pyromania— thank you Seamus.
Harry took in a sharp breath as they paused again. Ginny and the twins were nowhere to be seen and he was getting concerned. He needed the twins alive and Ginny was a good asset. Gritting his teeth, he gripped his wand tightly. Due to the presence of Hermione and Ron, he couldn't perform complex magic to track the three Weasleys.
Their thoughts cut short as Harry froze. He felt the brisling magic of a rather dark spell, gulping as he automatically brought his eyes to the sky. A smoky green light was shooting up to the clouds, exploding in a viridescent puff—then came the skull and snake. The dark mark.
" Morsmordre !"
Harry's eyes were trained on the dark mark, unable to look away. He had seen it so many times but right now, he found himself reminiscing upon it. The dark mark had been a symbol that brought pain and suffering to him—such suffering he shared with only his closest friends, confidants. Whether he hated the blasted mark or not, it had a significance in his life that he could never describe.
"You-Know-Who's symbol." Ron whimpered as Hermione tightly held his hand.
"Harry—Harry we gotta go. Harry, please! That's the dark mark!" Hermione begged as she and Ron tried to pull him away. But Harry stood still, staring at the explosion of green light that engulfed the sky as a skull formed. The green snake coming out of its mouth stared right at him.
Harry cared not for the fear they felt. His gaze turned towards the one who casted the spell. A silhouette he could remember anywhere. Green eyes met with bluish brown hues, a pair Harry was painfully familiar with. As if daring him to make a move, the hooded man pointed a wand towards him.
All Harry could do was stare. He flicked his wand into the man's direction, "Don't die," was all he whispered before conjuring an explosion of smoke. Surprise was evident in the man's eyes as he fled, glancing back towards Harry who looked rather satisfied.
"Stupefy!"
Hermione screamed as they all ducked down. On instinct, Harry casted the Protego charm and shielded them from the stunners. Some red lights bounced right of his shield, as Ron tried to protect both Harry and Hermione.
"Stop! Stop! That's my— that's my son!" Harry heard Mr. Weasley yells amongst the crowds. He ran towards the three with a concerned expression as he checked for any injuries. All he could find was some cuts and scrapes from running around the forest for quite a time. However, the relief on the man's face could not be seen.
"Out of the way Arthur!"
Harry grit his teeth at the curt voice. He snapped his gaze towards an all too familiar man, Bartemius Crouch Sr. He never liked Crouch Sr. The only thing Harry could think of when looking at the man was wanting him to rot in Azkaban instead of his poor wife who died in the miserable prison. All he wanted to do was curse the man, the cruciatus would have sufficed, but he kept silent, staring at him.
Crouch Sr. flinched away from the vile glare. He narrowed his eyes at Harry—the boy unwavering and unfazed as he stared right back.
I might just kill you myself.
When Harry and the rest of the Weasleys arrived at the burrow, he had darted to Ron's room. No one stopped him, thinking that he was troubled by the followers of his parents murderer. They couldn't be more wrong.
The moment Ron had fallen asleep that night, Harry sat up on his bed and stared at his friend's sleeping form. He took out his yew wand and conjured an illusion of his sleeping self. Neither Ron nor the rest would notice he was gone. He opened his trunk, summoning his invisibility cloak and quickly ran down the stairs. He made sure to be quiet, moving quickly as he exited the burrow.
He paused just slightly over the hill. He could see the odd looking house from afar, frowning to himself. The urge to simply run up to the house and knock was there, but he shook his head and apparate away. His feet gently landed in a familiar study. Charlus' study — his study. A sigh left his lips as he observed the neat and perfectly clean room. The bookshelf was as organized as ever as the curtains on the window were pulled close.
Exiting the room, he felt the eerie silence of the Manor. No one had lived here for almost thirteen years, not after his parents had fled from the safety of it to their little cottage in Godric's hollow.
Harry could remember the days of his second life when James and Malcolm would run around the please like headless chickens. Charlus and Fleamont would be laughing along with them while Dorea and Euphemia berated them. Charlus had been lord Potter, but made James the heir.
Dorea couldn't conceive a child, neither did she want to. Charlus was an amazing husband, respecting her wishes to be childless and trained both Malcolm and James as the heirs to their family the same way his father trained him and Fleamont.
His footsteps were quiet as he walked through the halls. The soft sound of humming coming from one of the rooms. He pushed a door open, greatest but the warm light of a lamp and Gellert standing before a tapestry of names. The Potter family tree. His white blonde hair was relaxed from its gel, nursing a glass of whiskey as he hummed a German lullaby he often sang to put his son to sleep.
"Arcturus Black was a vicious man. He respected my decisions, but he was never my follower. From what I can remember, his younger sister was born around the same time as you." Gellert hummed.
"Two years younger than Damian." If Gellert had an issue with Harry's manner of speaking, he didn't comment on it. It was a habit of his—to speak of his other lives as if they were completely different people. In a way, there were, but at the same time he was the same as his past lives.
"Hm… if you had attended Hogwarts, you'd have been their senior by a year, yes?" Gellert gestured towards the dates of birth and Death plastered across the wall. Fleamont and Euphemia had died of Dragon pox a year before Harry was born, while Dorea died of an ancient blood malediction that appeared every few generations of the Blacks. Charlus followed her a year after she died—the cause of his death was unknown but some had speculated him poisoning himself.
Perhaps I should have thrown away all the poisons when I saw the signs… maybe he could have taken care of me. Harry thought with a frown.
"Were you hurt?" Gellert asked, placing the whiskey on the table and giving Harry a meaningful look. Harry pursed his lips, shaking his head.
"Perfectly fine. Just saw an old friend from one of my past lives."
Gellert merely hummed, "By any chance did you encounter your sister?"
Harry froze once more that night. His brows furrowed as he grit his teeth, turning to Gellert with a look of pure and utter confusion. His sister— Damian's sister was a topic he preferred to not touch.
"Sister?"
"Don't play coy with me. Regardless of who you are now, you once had a sister who would have died for you and you would have done the same for her." Gellert chastised with a warning look. His daughter's death had affected just as much as his son's death. Both of them were killed right in front of him after all. "No matter what happens, Damian, do not forget your sister's existence. It is disrespectful to who you once were."
A sigh left Harry's lips. Convincing Gellert he was unaffected by the past would be difficult. Regardless of how much time had passed since he was Damian, the fact he was Gellert Grindelwald's son was there. It was something that couldn't be changed, something Harry didn't want to change. He liked being Gellert's son.
"I didn't know she would reincarnate." Harry admitted. He didn't lie. He knew of others who reincarnated but they would need Life and Death's favor, as well as Fate's cruel interest. Harry was the unfortunate soul to have caught the interest of all three. If anything, the knowledge of Damian's sister reincarnating was a concerning fact.
Gellert merely hummed, "Seems so. She looks similar to who you once were. Blonde, silverish eyes—although they are more blue." The nostalgia in his eyes clouded his gaze as he turned away from the tapestry to Harry. The gentle gaze looked odd on the former dark lord, but Harry had been subjected to such a gaze before. "And you look like her. Dark hair, vivid eyes… although hers were blue, just like…"
"Let's not reminisce on how similar her eyes are to that man." He grit out, glaring at Gellert.
"Yes… that would also be disrespectful. Regardless, that child has returned to the land of the living… Whether it is a curse or a blessing, she has received Fate's favor." The disdain in Gellert's tone was painfully obvious. Fate was a natural enemy for them. "Her future is obscure to me."
Gellert took out a wand from his pocket, staring at it with sorrow. His wand was made by Gregorovitch— the very man he stole the elder wand from. He was simply thankful that his son kept the wand all to himself and placed it in his vault after he received his own.
"You will meet her soon. A familiar face, an ally from the past. Her fate is not as blurry to me. I can see bits of it, unlike major events of your future that I am unable to glimpse." Gellert placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, squeezing it for a moment before smiling at the boy. No matter how different he looked, no matter the blood running through his veins, this was his son. "Take care of your sister and bring her home."
Harry's throat went dry as he stared at Gellert. The expectations burdening him, at the same time it motivated him. His sister, his beloved sister, was back in this world as a fellow reincarnator. Whoever she was now, she would still be his sister and Gellert's daughter. Harry gulped, nodding in acknowledgment.
"I'll find Ariadne… I promise to bring her home…" Harry trailed off, before carefully adding, " father. "
Gellert stilled, releasing a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Harry could see the way his eyes soften, filled with an indescribable love he never thought Gellert would be able to feel. His assumptions would have been justified if all he heard of the man before being his son was that he was insane—Albus Dumbledore's lover. But he was Harry's father in another life, a father he felt grateful to have.
The man laughed softly, tracing a bright blue line of magic into the air. Gellert hummed softly as he wrote his children's names; Damian and Ariadne. Both their names were greatly tied to Greek mythology along with Greek meanings. Regardless, there were deep meanings to their names that Gellert had meticulously chosen.
Regardless, whatever name his children used, they were still his children. His daughter's could have been the most common name he's heard and he'd still accept her. Harry's name sounded similar to Damian; Hadrian. He wondered if his daughter would have a similar sounding name.
"I'll bring her home and we can finally get that well deserved vacation. My villa back in Greece hasn't been touched since my death."
"Really? I had expected for the ICW to seize all our belongings."
Harry smirked, "You know my relation to the goblins. The ICW never found most of my properties and couldn't even touch our vaults. The Grindelwald vaults back in Germany are also untouched." He boasted. One of his many accomplishments was befriending goblins, something Gellert was eternally proud of him for. "Besides, if they were seized I would have stolen them back. Also, I may or may not have placed a curse and ward around my properties. Anyone who wasn't a goblin inspecting the place would have been cursed. . . Rather unpleasantly if I may."
"Of course. My son is brilliant." The tone Gellert used seemed sarcastic, but Harry felt pride in it. It made him smile, chuckling as he spun on his heel and walked towards the door.
"I'll bring her home. As you've said, she is my sister, regardless of who she is today."
A fleeting smile graced Gellert's lips as he watched Harry walk away. He was proud to be his father—even if he was no longer Damian in blood and name. His soul was still the same, this Harry was Damian, and Damian was Harry. He was Gellert's son no matter what the universe would tell him.
"I don't doubt it."
Harry quietly slipped back into the burrow without anyone noticing. Rushing up the stairs, he expected to find Ron still sleeping on his bed while his illusion was still present. But to his misfortune, he found himself bumping into Hermione.
"H-Harry?" She whispered, startled to see him awake.
"'Mione, why are you awake?" He asked, quietly opening the door to Ron's room. Hermione followed him without another word and sat on the bed.
"I should be asking you that."
"Ron's snoring woke me up."
"Is that so?" Her eyes trailed towards Ron, who was letting out soft snores that grew louder from time to time. She giggled quietly, while Harry sat beside her.
"Since I've answered, why're you awake?"
Harry frowned as Hermione looked away from him. She avoided his eyes, hands trembling as they rested on her lap. It made him frustrated, sighing as he mindlessly patted her head. She flinched for a moment, something Harry despised deeply.
"Nightmares." She whispered, leaning against him.
"Nightmares." Harry repeated, "What were they about?"
He rubbed her shoulder gently, then allowed his fingers to run through her hair as if combing it. Hermione's bushy hair was almost as bad as the mess that was his own, but she was beautiful. She was his friend and most likely one of the main reasons why he survived in his first life.
Hermione let out a gentle sigh, "What happens to me as a muggleborn…" she whispered, "I dreamt of how pureblood elitists will shun me, capture me, and throw me back to the muggle world… I… I dreamt of my parents."
Harry went stiff as he heard the mention of his parents. Hermione rarely spoke of them, only saying they were dentists. She barely mentioned her parents, even in his first life. One of the things that concerned him greatly was when her parents didn't come to her wedding. Harry had been the one to walk her down the aisle, jokingly threatening Ron when he gave her away.
As Orpheus, he had easily taken in Hermione as his own. That was the only time he realized what was happening between her and her parents.
"I. . . Harry, they won't want me back if the purebloods force me to leave." She whispered, her voice cracking. "They won't. . . I'm only allowed to live under their roof and eat what is served. I'm grateful but. . ."
"I won't let anything happen to you." He hugged her tightly, kissing the crown of her head. She was similar to him, but she was never harmed. She was never made into a slave, but she was left alone. Isolated, burdened by the scrutiny of her parents' gazes that had expected her to follow their path in the medical field.
But Hermione was a witch. She could have been a healer, continuing on her parents expectations, but she wasn't suited for the role. Hermione was best suited as a teacher, a politician—Minister of Magic.
"I don't want to go back. . . They ignore me and act as if I don't exist unless I achieve their expectations. . . This is all my fault, if I hadn't lost control of my magic when I was a kid—"
Harry hummed in response, "Neither do I. We're better off here, in the magical world. If they want us gone, then we'll leave the country. I have enough money for both of us." He cut her off, "And don't blame yourself. You're still a kid."
Hermione giggled at the suggestion, not knowing that Harry was serious. If purebloods drove them away, if Harry couldn't fight back, they would run. He would have her enrolled in Beauxbatons, or maybe Ilvermorny. Harry would attend Durmstrang if he could. They wouldn't stay in Britain, they would run to a place where their blood statuses weren't an issue.
In a way, Hermione was also his sister. She wasn't like Ariadne, but she was his sister.
"Where would we go?" She asked, pulling away from him as she tilted her head. "France seems nice."
"I heard that the Netherlands and Greece don't care about blood status."
"Really? Greece sounds rather interesting. According to mythology, there is a goddess of Magic."
"Hecate. Greece has many legends and stories focused on magic. Which also includes the story of the nymph, Circe."
Hermione smiled, "I'll have to buy a mythology book regarding Greek myths then."
"Hm… if we do end up running away, let's pretend to be siblings." Harry suggested, making Hermione laugh. "Let's grab Ron and say he's our adopted brother. But, I guess he could pull off as my brother too since my mother had red hair."
Hermione giggled again, "That's silly."
"It is not."
"It is!"
Harry smiled at her. He missed these moments. Where he and Hermione would just talk nonsense, Ron would either be sleeping, or eating as he listened. This was their dynamic. They were Harry's siblings, but he shared a kinship that with Hermione he could never explain. To think it was experiences with muggles that caused such kinship.
"We would use my money, then we'd look for jobs to keep ourselves afloat."
"What about school?"
"We'd attend the Greek academy of magic; Hecataea Academy. It's not as well known as Hogwarts due to the small population, but it's said to be a superb school. Although you are required to learn Greek and most likely latin."
Hermione hummed, falling to bed as Harry carded his fingers through her hair. She laid her head on his lap, wrapped with his blanket. "Tell me more… You're so mean for not telling me all this."
Harry chuckled as he heard her yawn, "Okay. I've read books when I was in Diagon Alley, so don't expect me to be completely accurate." He lied—he had done his research on the magical schools all over Europe, plus Ilvermorny. Considering he had attended around five different schools across his thirteen lives, he had gained a fascination for the magic institutions.
"Hecataea Academy is named after the pillars of Hecate, the Greek goddess of Magic. It is said that the school was founded by Hecate herself, although the legends are often told with Circe founding it instead. Hecate is most logical as the academy was founded to be a shelter for the witches and wizards of Greece." Harry chuckled fondly, "The school has similar core subjects to ours, except with the addition of the Dark arts and Greek mythology. Students learn about ancient runes and rituals, perform such things upon the holidays they were to honor."
He quietly caressed Hermione's hair, glancing towards her drowsy expression. "There are groups of students, similar to Hogwarts houses but more religious, in a sense. There's not really an official name for the groups, sometimes it's referred to as 'House' like Hogwarts, but they're not for competitive reasons."
Harry quietly reminisced upon what was called the faithful students of Hecataea Academy. The groups were typically students who worshiped a certain god, often referred to as The House of. . . whatever god they worshiped. The students honoring the gods— it wasn't something that was absolutely necessary, as some were said to be non-believers and were not ostracized by the majority.
The school was small compared to Hogwarts but it was nearly better in terms of curriculum.
But Harry's mind drifted from the Greek academy to the prospect of running away. It was an option Harry liked to have. Being the savior wasn't something Harry wanted, he wanted to be free from the burden placed upon him when he was a baby. He wanted to be able to run, to never look back and live his life happily.
Hermione wanted something similar, but he doubted that she would run away from a challenge. It was what made her a perfect mix of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor— her desire to be challenged and logical thinking. She could be cruel, unfeeling, and uncaring of others emotions at the prospect of facts and logic alone. He understood her better than Ron because of this.
"That's… hm… odd but also brilliant. What god would you honor… if you attended?" Hermione yawned between words. She looked up to Harry with sleepy eyes, rubbing them gently as she waited for Harry to answer.
"Hades, maybe… Maybe Ares and Athena. I don't really know…" he admitted—knowing full well he'd have gone to honor Hades due to the god's connection to Thanatos. "Go to sleep now. We'll discuss this tomorrow."
Hermione hummed, but slowly drifted off to sleep.
Harry continued to caress her hair, making sure she wouldn't notice him performing subtle mind magics. Removing nightmares wasn't too hard for him. He had done it for himself, it wouldn't be too hard for him to remove the nightmares of others.
He saw flashes of a man and a woman with grim expressions, scowling down at him. Such looks were accompanied by sniffles and soft sobs— Hermione's sobs .
A sigh left his lips as his gaze was fixed on the peacefully sleeping Hermione. Nightmares had plagued the three of them after the war. Harry experienced it most but he was used to it. He'd console Ron and Hermione, comfort them, teach them how to cope with the night terrors. He was accustomed to nightmares, visions even as he focused on the very soul shard stuck to his head.
If I were back in Hecataea, I'd have easily managed these dreams. He thought as he took off his glasses and adjusted himself, so as to not push Hermione off the bed. The chamber of Morpheus would have done good for us… maybe those of the house of Hypnos and Morpheus could have helped too.
He sighed again before wrapping his arms around Hermione who instantly snuggled into him. He drifted off to sleep, doing his best to prevent the girl from having nightmares the rest of the night.
An hour later Ron would wake up and see his friends snuggled together, before sleepily sandwiching Hermione between him and Harry. Charlie would open the door after he was ordered by his mother to see the trio squished into the small bed, laughing before summoning a camera to show the three of what he saw.
"Charlie burn that!"
"My children wouldn't dare waste their fire on such a cute photo!"
Notes:
School hates me. Hahahahahaha.
So anyways, a few more things were introduced into this chapter!
For one, Hecataea Academy is my own creation. It's name after Hecate's pillars. Since JK Rowling did not have the time to create a school for Greece (GREECE people! The place where there were myths of the greatest sorceresses known to man, Medea and Circe, and the goddess of magic herself, Hecate!)
It's not as big as Hogwarts since the magic population in Greece are actually very capable of home schooling their children. Lmao.
Then there's the new information on Damian! Another Greek mythology reference, his sister Ariadne. She'll be mentioned more in the future after this.
Also, Hermione's backstory might be more different compared to the original. She's neglected but not abused. Hermione is the type of girl who want academic approval and sometimes, I kinda just think of how she must be pressured by her parents and was socially awkward because she didn't know how to properly socialize due to that neglect.
I don't know if this is a good change or not. If it's not, I'll adjust it.
Sorry for taking so long. School, again, hates me.