Chapter Text
Things were so different it might as well have been a different school, this year.
A very different Harry Potter picked at his dinner at one of the new round tables in the Great Hall, in early sixth year, alone in a crowd, as usual, without Hermione.
Ron was gone, too, but he had poisoned the well of potential friends for Harry very thoroughly. He had five years, while Harry was oblivious, to do it.
Ginny kept looking hopefully his way, but he didn't need a fangirl who looked a lot like his dead Mother.
New schoolwide rule, not more than half the seats at any table, which seated 10 each, could be from the same House.
Harry looked across the Hall at the severely depleted Slytherin table cluster. No Draco, no Pansy, no Greg, no Vinnie, and that was just in their own cohort. The tables where the Green and Silver sat were all half empty, no one was visiting.
Sue Bones, Lisa Turpin, and Hannah Abbot were sharing the table Harry was at, and had conversations going with Neville and Dean.
While Harry had been "otherwise occupied", the ICW Academic Committee had turned up over the summer, and the alleged 'mouse' had all the attitude of a Horntail. A P.O.'ed Horntail.
Dumbledore's arrest for gross fraud, when Grindelwald was found in prison, instead of in a grave, had actually gotten him executed. Snape had survived the ICW's DE purge, but not with a job at Hogwarts.
With the table reconfiguration he usually ended up sitting much nearer the surviving Slytherins, and could observe them better.
She was beautiful. No other word he knew could do her justice, and even that was insufficient. Silky looking pure golden hair, above a face that needed zero help, and sported a milky smooth complexion.
Not a bad figure either, as much as you could tell with school robes. Hers were Acromantula silk, which Draco had never been able to afford, to his embarrassment. Daddy had been busy paying too many bribes.
That hair seemed to beg some worthy boy to run his fingers through it. Not that Harry fancied himself as likely to be found worthy, his 'reconstruction' over the previous summer had failed to transplant a sense of self-worth into soil the Dursley's had poisoned and salted.
Another change, the adults of that family were all guests of Her Majesty, in very unpleasant prisons, which still looked good next to Azkaban.
She looked like she had a spotlight on her at all times, but was ignoring it. A walking, talking (occasionally), breathing work of art.
Only one Polish-British girl, named Wanda, remembered from Harry's days in the muggle school system, could have competed. Harry had heard Wanda was heiress to a Countess title 'in her own right', whatever that meant. Why she was in normal Primary school was anybody's guess.
Nothing Harry had been able to learn about his new interest in his Dark Lady (very little) was in any way derogatory. She had challenged Granger for First in their Cohort, with a mixed record of success, but was never lower than number two, except for number three in Herbology. Her family was solidly "gray" in the Wizengamot, but voted more often with the light families than with the dark faction, on anything important.
Tracey Davis seemed to be her only close friend, as Hermione had been for Harry, and rumor said they shared dorm room, the green-gang having two person rooms, like many muggle colleges. Tracy was a known half-blood, like Harry. A half-blood "bestie", as roommate, spoke volumes in the silence.
Harry was bereft of Hermione's friendship and her occasional guidance on the female viewpoint, more valuable for young men of that age than gold, much less just help with homework.
He was also recovering from what the medics of the Goblins and Unspeakables had unwound from him, all either unquestionably Dumbledore or from his minions, like Molly. Or perhaps Elias Doge, illegal occupant of the Potter seat, who would have potioned him, but for lack of opportunity.
Adding up all the actual bindings, the jinxs, the hexes, the curses, and the potions he was under Harry had been freed of 17 active magical constraints, all highly illegal. That didn't even count the parasitic 'thing' removed from his scar, or the illegal 'vampire' wards set on #4 Privet Drive.
A simple "lumos" had ignited his faithful old Holly wand, and he now carried four, all in different, concealed wand holsters. It's not paranoia if 'they' are really out to get you! Harry considered it 'underkill', and carried a Fairbairn assassination dagger as his non-magical 'holdout'.
The new Potions Prof had paired Harry up with his Dark Lady in that class, so he gradually found himself noticing she was not the cold female pictured by her "Ice Queen" moniker. Just very careful, and rightfully so. This gave Harry cover for asking about her, but the data was sparse.
But the sense of mystery she wrapped herself in, even in Potions, was when he began thinking of her as 'darkness'. Not the darkness of politics, or of attitudes, but the darkness of mystery.
But Harry was sure he could pierce it, given time, which maybe he didn't have.