Chapter Text
Harry was starting to think that maybe coming to Hogwarts was a bad idea.
Things had started well enough, he thought. He had made his first friend while on the train. They had talked for hours and he’d had his first (wizard) chocolates. He had been amazed by how beautiful Hogwarts was to look at. He could still remember the awe he felt standing in the Great Hall for the first time, flickering candles overhead, huge tables filled with other kids—other magical kids— and then that feast!
He’d never seen such good food in all his life!
But somewhere between stepping into the room and sitting down to the table, everything had gone wrong.
Because the hat had put him in Slytherin.
Even though he told it not to. Even though he was worried about being pulled away from Ron and into a house full of strangers. Even though he didn’t really think of himself as a sneaky, slimy snake!
But the hat had yelled Slytherin and his tie had changed to match it and Ron had looked at him with betrayal and the room had been so quiet and that’s when Harry knew for sure that something bad had happened.
And it had only gotten worse from there.
Ron wouldn’t talk to him anymore. The other houses looked at him like he was Dudley waiting to chase them down and hit them. The teachers gave him sad, concerned looks, except for Snape, who sneered at him and got after him for every single thing that Harry did. He couldn’t even breathe in Potions class without Snape looming over him and insulting him.
His housemates were little better. The oldest ones mostly ignored him, but the younger ones whispered about him when he tried to study in the common room. The ones in his year were hot and cold, mostly depending on whether or not Draco Malfoy was friendly with him or not that day.
But they didn’t want to study with him after class. They didn’t want to walk with him to classes. They didn’t want to practice casting spells together. They didn’t want to even talk to him.
He was stared at all the time. He was whispered about all the time. His teachers expected things from him, wonderful things, grand things. The other students expected him to be a hero, but he turned out to be a snake and now they didn’t understand who he was.
He couldn’t go anywhere without being noticed. He couldn’t go anywhere without being talked about! He couldn’t go anywhere to read and study because someone always found him, someone always followed him!
What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to deal with this?
He wished he had help.
He wished he had someone who could teach him. Someone who understood. Someone who wouldn’t whisper behind his back. Someone who cared about him, not about the Boy-Who-Lived.
It was these heavy thoughts Harry carried with him as he walked slowly down one random hallway of Hogwarts, unsure exactly where he was but not caring right now. He knew he was far from the floor where the library was but that was it.
A somewhat heavy thunk sound broke Harry from his slow trudge down the wall.
He stopped and turned and saw a door that he hadn’t noticed before. He thought that wall was blank, but maybe he’d seen wrong. The door itself was slightly open, like it had just gone ajar, and he stared at it for a moment. Had he gone past someone on their way into that room? Or maybe someone was about to come out?
He rocked on his heels for a moment, wondering, wavering, then his curiosity got the better of him and he headed over.
He pushed the door open slightly and cautiously stuck his head inside. “Hello?” he called out, “Is someone in here?”
At first glance the room looked very much like his other classrooms with a stone floor and stone walls, but instead of rows of desks there was a single table and instead of windows or anything on the walls there was a large fireplace. A tall, comfortable looking chair of dark green was near the fire and in it sat a man Harry had never seen before. He sat back in the chair, legs crossed at the knee and his elbow resting on the arm. He wore robes of either very dark blue or black with silver trim on the cuffs.
The man looked over as Harry spoke and he snapped his mouth shut on the repeated Hello? he was about to call. The man was handsome. So very, very handsome! He looked like the models Harry had seen on advertisements back at the Dursleys, either on magazine covers at the store or on Petunia’s coffee table—the ones he was never supposed to touch, just to dust and clean around.
He had high cheekbones and perfectly styled dark brown hair with a little curl falling over his forehead. His dark eyes flickered in the dancing firelight and his pink lips quirked up at the corner in the same way his eyebrow did. Really, he looked like he could be a model, which only made Harry wonder why he was here in Hogwarts at all.
“Well hello,” said the man, in a warm, deep voice. “And who might you be?”
Harry hesitated. He saw the man look him over and he could tell that he didn’t recognize him right away. It made Harry hope that the man wouldn’t recognize him at all. “Harry,” he said.
The man lifted one hand to tap his finger against his chin thoughtfully, “And your surname, young man?”
“Potter,” Harry mumbled, looking down at his trainers sticking out from beneath the edge of his robe. “I’m Harry Potter, sir.”
He braced himself for the moment when the man would leap up from his seat, delighted to meet him, eager to shake his hand and talk to him, just like everyone else was.
But the moment never came.
“Do you intend to linger at the threshold for our entire conversation, Mr. Potter?”
Harry jolted a little and looked up at the man, so surprised his mouth dropped open. He couldn’t help but blurt, “You don’t recognize me?”
The man tilted his head to one side and said, “Besides the fact that you have the Potter silhouette, I cannot say that I am familiar with your face. Why don’t you come in and enlighten me?” He gestured in front of himself and suddenly there was a second chair there, smaller than his own and a lighter shade of green.
Harry stepped in and let the heavy door swing shut behind himself. The man smiled as he approached and Harry smiled back.
Sitting down in the new chair, Harry tucked his hands under his legs to keep from fidgeting with them, remembering all the times he was told to sit still and be quiet in Primary school whenever they had a speaker come talk to them. He didn’t know this man but he had never seen him sitting at the professors’ table so he figured he had to be a guest of some sort. Maybe he was a guest speaker for one of the older year's classes? He looked like he was very knowledgeable.
The man shifted a little, switching his legs so the left was on top instead of the right. He kept one elbow resting on the arm of the chair and that hand curled under his chin. This close, Harry could see that his dark eyes were blue, just like his robe.
“You seemed to expect me to recognize you,” the man said with that same not-quite-a-smile on his lips, “Is it because you recognize me from somewhere?”
Harry shook his head. He stared down at his knees and said quietly, “No. I’ve never seen you before, sir.”
“Please look at me when you’re speaking, Mr. Potter.” His tone was even, steady, but firm in the way that reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall so he immediately lifted his eyes up to the man’s face. “That’s better.”
“Do you really not know who I am?” Harry blurted out, leaning forward.
“Unfortunately, I haven’t had much…engagement with the world outside of Hogwarts for some time,” the man explained, “Why don’t you enlighten me?”
Harry bit his bottom lip. “I’d really rather not,” he mumbled, “You’re the first person to treat me normal since I found out.”
Well, except for the Dursleys. They had treated him just like they always did, but he figured they either didn’t really know or they simply didn’t care.
“How about I promise not to treat you any differently than I would any other student at Hogwarts no matter what you tell me?” The man gave that slight not-smile again. His eyes didn’t sparkle like Dumbledore’s did, but they glinted all the same, as if he had said something funny.
Putting off the inevitable for a while longer, Harry asked, “Are you a professor here, sir?”
“Not currently,” the man said.
“Then why are you here?”
“That is quite the mystery, isn’t it? Perhaps I will tell you after you tell me who you are?”
Harry bit his bottom lip again. That sounded an awful lot like a deal, which he’d discovered was something Slytherins did a lot. They never seemed able to just say or do things for other people without getting something back in exchange. Harry had never done so, but he’d never had anything he could exchange anyway. He wasn’t the best in class. He had no one who was friendly with him. He supposed he had his Potter inheritance, but he wasn’t allowed to take much money out so that wasn’t helpful really. And everyone else already knew his whole story, so it’s not like he could tell them anything different.
At least, they knew about what he’d done as a baby—there were books about it, though he hadn’t read any yet.
The only thing people didn’t seem to know about was the Dursleys and Harry was happy to keep it that way.
“Okay,” Harry said with a sigh. He knew that the professor or former professor or whoever he was wouldn’t really be able to keep his promise but he wasn’t going to get upset about it if he didn’t. No one really kept their promises to him, especially adults.
“Well. I’m Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. When I was a baby, Voldemort came and attacked my parents and me. He killed them, but when he tried to kill me it didn’t work. The spell bounced off or something and killed him instead and the war ended. I’m basically the Savior of the Wizarding World.”
Across from him, the man sat very, very still. For some reason it reminded Harry of the way a snake might freeze up right before striking. Then his eyelids fluttered a little and he took a deep breath. If he sighed it out, Harry couldn’t tell because he was utterly silent. After a long minute, he said, “I see.”
He didn’t immediately jump up and try to shake Harry’s hand, which was a huge relief, so Harry relaxed a little into the chair he sat on. He absentmindedly swung his legs back and forth. “So, why are you here in Hogwarts?”
After a while, the man spoke, “I came to apply for the position as professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. The headmaster at the time summarily refused me the position, and indeed had already filled it just prior to taking my interview. After I left I found myself…bound to this place. In this.” He lifted one hand and tapped something on his head.
Harry blinked, surprised. Had the man always been wearing a silver tiara? He hadn’t noticed it at all before. He opened his mouth and said the first thing that came to mind, “They say the Defense position is cursed, do you think that has something to do with why you’re trapped in that tiara?”
The man lowered his hand and gave an elegant looking shrug. It reminded Harry a little bit of Malfoy. “Perhaps. All I know for sure is that I am cursed to stay attached to this diadem and in this room.”
Harry looked around at the very empty room and shuddered a little. Sure, it wasn’t as small as his cupboard, but there was nothing in it. It reminded him more of the second bedroom for Dudley’s toys, but at least that had a window. “That must be terrible,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry.”
The man gave another little shrug and waved his hand as if dismissing it. “It is what it is, Mr. Potter. I might not have chosen it, but Hogwarts has always been like home to me so I imagine it could be much worse.”
“Is there any way to break the curse and to get you free?” Harry asked.
The man tilted his head a little to one side and peered at Harry consideringly. “You would offer your assistance, Mr. Potter?”
Harry’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. “I know I’m just a first year and I don’t know a lot but maybe I could bring you books to read that might help or I can tell one of the other professors or maybe even Headmaster Dumbledore. I’m sure one of them would be able to do something to help you!”
The man gave Harry an odd smile, his dark eyes glinting again. “Mr. Potter, when I came to ask for the position of professor, Dumbledore was headmaster at the time. Who do you suppose put that curse on me and left me in this room?”
Harry froze, eyes widening. He couldn’t imagine that the Headmaster would ever do something like that.
Except he didn’t really know the Headmaster, did he? He’d seen the man around and at meals. He heard his odd welcome speech and the warning about the third floor. He saw the way he looked sadly at Harry sometimes, as if he’d expected better things from him and Harry was disappointing him somehow. And he sometimes saw the cold way that the Headmaster looked at the other Slytherins. He didn’t seem to like them very much.
“Did you go to Hogwarts before? Were you in Slytherin?” Harry asked, both curious and working on his theory for why the Headmaster might’ve done something so terrible to someone.
The man blinked once and then nodded. “I did and I was. I was a prefect in my fifth and sixth years and Head Boy in my seventh, in fact.” He gave a little smile, “I was top of all my classes, as well. I had the highest scores Hogwarts has ever seen.”
Harry nodded back. The man was someone Vernon would have said “had it all and didn’t have to work for it” if he was that smart and that handsome. He could imagine other people being jealous of him, even someone as powerful and important as Dumbledore. If there was anything Harry had learned from watching Petunia gossip about her neighbors all his life it was that everyone had a mean side and their own secrets to keep.
Besides, if anyone was powerful enough to curse someone to be stuck in a crown it would have to be someone like Dumbledore.
“I don’t think that he likes that I’m a Slytherin,” Harry admitted after a while. He looked down at his knees as he spoke, “My parents were in Gryffindor and everyone expected I would be too.” He hunched his shoulders, remembering the silence that had reigned just after he’d been sorted. He hadn’t realized then how big a deal that was.
“Did you want to be in Slytherin?”
Harry peered up at the man and bit his bottom lip again. He hesitated long enough that he was certain the man would question him, but instead he was silent and watchful, waiting for Harry.
Slowly, Harry admitted, “I just— I didn’t really care where I went, as long as I didn’t get sent back to my Aunt’s house.” Quickly, he continued, not wanting to linger too long on why. Adults always wanted to know why he didn’t want to go back to his Aunt’s house when he mentioned it. “I had just found out about magic a little before classes started and I didn’t know what I was doing or that Houses mattered that much. I knew my parents were Gryffindors so I would have been fine there and I had a friend that I met who was going to be a Gryffindor but I— I wanted more than anything not to go back and to find a way to stay and—I mean the Hat told me I could be great in either House but I’d find the power to stay free if I was a Slytherin and I—that’s all I really wanted.”
Embarrassed for saying so much, for being so honest with someone he barely even knew, Harry hunched his shoulders and covered his mouth with his hands. How could he admit all that? He knew all the other Slytherins were there because they were sneaky and cunning and ambitious and Harry wasn’t any of those things. He just wanted to be free of the Dursleys. That’s all he cared about.
“I understand your sentiments,” the man said quietly. Harry’s head jerked up and he met the man’s gaze. His blue eyes were so intense, so strangely bright in the firelight. They had a crimson cast from the flames. “When I was your age and magic was new to me, all I wished was never to return to the muggles I grew up around. I did everything I could to keep myself here at Hogwarts,” his lips twisted in something that was more a grimace than a smile, “And now I suppose I got what I desired, bound as I am to this place.”
His expression smoothed out and he added more pleasantly, “But at least the company is better now.”
Harry blinked a few times before he realized that the man was talking about him. His face went warm again and Harry fiddled with the cuff of his robe in his lap.
“It’s terrible being stuck in one room all the time,” Harry said quietly, “Even if you like Hogwarts a lot, you must miss being outside. I wish you could go outside.”
“Perhaps I will again someday,” the man said, “As long as I am here and alive, there is always a chance I will regain my freedom again.”
Leaning forward, Harry clenched his hands tightly in his lap. “If I can help you, I will, sir. You shouldn’t be stuck here, you should be able to go outside. I—I know I’m not as smart as some of the other kids and I’m only just learning about magic, but there’s got to be a way to help you. Maybe I can learn how to break the curse or something. The library here is full of so many books, I’m sure one of them must have something!”
“It is admirable for you to try, Mr. Potter—”
“It isn’t right that you were cursed and you’re stuck here! I know I’m young but I can help, please.”
The man pressed one slender finger against his own lips and looked at Harry for a long time, silent and still. Harry resisted the urge to fidget. He resisted the urge to keep asking to help. He simply stared back at the man, holding his gaze the whole time.
While he stared, flashes of memories dragged themselves up from the bottom of his mind: the darkness of the cupboard and the sensation of the spiders crawling over his skin, the mind-numbing boredom and stomach-aching hunger that came from hours of isolation, the burn of the sun on his skin from hours of gardening and how that was still better than being cold and locked up, Petunia’s screaming at him, Vernon’s heavy hand in ‘reminding him of his place’, Dudley and his friends chasing him until he was breathless and trembling, the dull and dingy second bedroom with the rickety bed and peeling wallpaper. These horrible things circled in his mind as he thought of how awful it would be to be trapped inside a tiara in a room. Even as wonderful as Hogwarts was, it would be a miserable, boring existence.
And Hogwarts was wonderful. He found himself thinking of the first time he saw it, how beautiful it was. He thought of his first trip to Diagon Alley, how wonderful the wizarding world was and then how startled he was to be recognized, how overwhelmed he was at everyone knowing his name. How they approached and wanted to talk to him, to touch him, to stare at him. It was suffocating and terrible and he was filled with guilt because he hadn’t done anything!
How could a baby defeat someone as powerful and fearsome as everyone said Voldemort was? People were so scared of him that they couldn’t even say his name!
“How indeed,” the man breathed out the words so softly Harry almost didn’t hear them.
He swallowed thickly, feeling his head ache slightly as he rubbed his forehead.
“I think you might be able to help me after all, Mr. Potter,” the man said, “But I must admit that I am wary of you informing any of the professors of my existence. You see, I’m not entirely sure that Dumbledore is aware of my continued presence here and he might decide that I’m too dangerous to leave about even as powerless as I currently am.”
“He’d kill you?” Harry gasped.
“People go to great lengths for power,” the man said.
“But it’s bad to kill people,” Harry said.
The man tilted his head to the side and said, “Did you not kill Lord Voldemort?”
Harry’s breath caught, because no one else said Voldemort’s name but him, and also because, well. It was true, wasn’t it?
“If I did then it was an accident,” he said quietly, “I don’t even remember what happened. Maybe my mum did something? At least, that’s what I think, because what can a baby do against someone like Voldemort?”
“It is a curious situation,” the man said, “If you were to meet Lord Voldemort now, what would you do?”
Harry fidgeted. “Meet him? Like…as a ghost or something?”
“Not as a ghost,” the man said.
“Would he— Would he be trying to kill me?” Harry asked.
“Do you think that he would?”
“Malfoy says he would,” Harry said, “And the other older Slytherins. They say that when he comes back, he’ll—” He broke off the sentence there, hunching his shoulders. There were lots of threats that they used and all of them made Harry shiver in horror, though he did his best not to react when they said them.
“He’ll what?” the man pressed, his tone insistent. Harry had to reply.
“He’ll skin me. Or he’ll turn me inside out. Or he’ll crucio me until I’m broken like—like the Longbottoms, whoever they are. Or he’ll let me live but cut off my arms and legs. Or he’ll sacrifice me for my magic. Or he’ll cut out my tongue and scoop out my eyes. Or steal all my blood for a ritual—”
“Enough, Mr. Potter.”
Harry’s mouth snapped shut.
“Do you think he will try to kill you again?”
Silently, Harry nodded.
“Why?”
“He’s probably very mad at me,” Harry admitted in a whisper, staring down at his fingers. He picked at his cuticles as he spoke, making little spots of blood well up. “I can only imagine someone as powerful as he was would be so mad to be stopped by a baby. People might question him and if he’s a Lord then he can’t have that. He probably hates me and wants me dead.”
“And if you were to meet him and he spoke to you first? Instead of trying to kill you right away? What would you say to him?”
Harry shrugged.
“You have no idea?”
Harry bit his lip. He shrugged again.
“Is there something you would like to say to him? You can say it to me, Mr. Potter. I promise I will never speak a word of it to anyone else. I will not judge you for your words.”
Harry looked up. The man looked so sincere, so honest. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes intent as always.
Somehow, when he stared at Harry, it was different than when others did it. Harry swallowed a little and said quietly, “I guess I’d say I’m sorry. If I knew what I did to kill him I don’t think I would have done it again because I— I had to grow up without my mum and dad and I think I would’ve done anything rather than have to do that.” He stared down at his fingernails and mumbled, “I wish I died with them.”
“Do you truly?”
Harry nodded without looking up.
“Would you rather take death now than to live on?” The man’s voice had an odd quality to it so Harry looked up and saw his blue eyes were wide and he gripped the arms of the chair tightly with both hands.
Harry shrugged. “What have I got to live for?”
“You have your fame,” the man said, “You have your magic. You are but a child. There is so much out there for you to learn and experience. You would sacrifice all of that for what, an afterlife with your parents? That might not even exist?”
“At least they love me for being Harry,” Harry said with a frown, “Not for being the Boy-Who-Lived. And they’re the only ones who would. No one else likes me or even knows me. I—I thought Hogwarts would be better than being with the Dursleys, but it isn’t. Not really. Some things are better, but all the parts with people are just as awful.”
The man stared at him for a while longer as if surprised Harry would ever say such a thing. Embarrassed, Harry turned his head away. Still, he felt compelled to explain, “They stare at me and whisper about me. They all either love me or hate me and think they know everything about me. There are books about me and I know none of them can be true because it’s not like anyone’s asked me anything to put in a book in the first place. It’s all lies and everyone believes it anyway, just like at the Dursleys.”
“You could change that,” the man murmured, almost to himself. When Harry looked at him, he had leaned back again and his expression wasn’t surprised anymore. It was something else, something thoughtful and strange, with a half-smile on his lips and his fingers tapping his chin again. “You could, you know. If you had some direction, some guidance, you could change how they see you or speak about you. You could learn powerful magic to make them pay attention to what you have chosen to do, not what you did as an infant.
“You could even change Lord Voldemort’s mind about you, if you were cunning enough, powerful enough, curious enough.” The man’s smile grew, “Wouldn’t that appeal to you? To meet such a figure as Lord Voldemort on even ground and have him acknowledge you?”
“...Could he bring my parents back?” Harry asked, “Is he powerful enough for that?”
“Perhaps,” the man murmured, “It is a magic that is unknown to him, but he could endeavor to learn it. He is a man who holds a great fascination for magic and a hunger for knowledge that would have put him in Ravenclaw, if not for his great ambition. If you were powerful in your own right, you could work with him to bring your parents back.”
“How could I do that?” Harry asked, scooting to the edge of his chair. “I’m not very good in my classes and I—I don’t know how to change people’s minds about me.”
“I can help you,” the man said with a slow, broad smile. “As you’ll help me regain my body, I can help you develop yours. I am, or rather I was going to be, a professor after all.”
“Would you really?”
“It’s a fair exchange, don’t you think?” the man asked, “Do you have any objections?”
Harry shook his head and then stopped abruptly, “Actually, only one.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know your name,” Harry said, “What am I supposed to call you?”
The man smiled again and said, “You may call me Professor Gaunt.”
Harry smiled back. He hopped up from his seat and walked over to the man. He held out his hand and said, “You help me and I’ll help you, Professor.”
Professor Gaunt clasped his hand firmly. His skin was cool and dry to the touch, but Harry wasn’t bothered by that as he shook his hand. “Agreed, Mr. Potter.”
Harry felt a blossom of hope in his chest.
Maybe being at Hogwarts wouldn’t be so bad after all.