A Past Reclaimed by nuw255
Chapter Notes: What did Harry inherit that he doesn’t know about?
It didn’t take Harry long to realize that he wouldn’t be able to scrape by in his classes the way he had done at St. Brutus’s. At Hogwarts, the teachers simply did not accept substandard work, and after Professor McGonagall forced him to rewrite a particularly abysmal essay three times, he had no choice but to resign himself to the fact that this would be a year full of hard work.
As he sat in the common room one evening in the second week of term, his latest Herbology essay was suddenly interrupted when Hermione slid into the seat next to him.
“Harry?” she said tentatively. Harry looked up from his essay, and she leaned in closer to him. “What happened with Malfoy on the train?”
Harry cringed inwardly. He had lost count of the number of times Hermione had asked him about the wandless Shield Charm he had cast on the Hogwarts Express. “I’d have thought you would’ve forgotten about that by now,” he muttered.
“Well, I do have several classes with Malfoy, and it’s hard to forget about what happened when his hair is still so short that it sticks up like fuzz all over his head.” Hermione paused to suppress an involuntary giggle at the thought. “So, are you going to tell me what happened?”
“Sure,” said Harry. “I’ve told you about a hundred times already, though. Malfoy’s wand backfired and he ended up losing his hair. I know he blames me, but why do you keep acting like I had something to do with it?”
“Because I know you, Harry, and I can tell you’re hiding something. You know you can trust Ron and me; why not tell us?”
Harry shook his head wearily. This argument was getting very old.
“Hermione, will you please just drop it?” Ginny asked in an exasperated voice as she walked over to join them.
Hermione gave her a curious look. “You don’t even know what we were talking about.”
Ginny rolled her eyes as she sat down across from Harry. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? You’re asking Harry about Malfoy losing his hair on the train, and he’s saying he doesn’t know what happened. Am I right?”
“Right in one,” Harry confirmed. “I don’t want to be rude or anything, but I really do need to finish this essay, Hermione, so....”
“Say no more,” she said, getting to her feet. “But I still think you ought to tell us what you know, Harry.”
“If I think of anything, I’ll come straight to you and Ron,” he replied with a straight face.
As soon as Hermione was out of earshot, Ginny leaned across the table and whispered, “You’re getting to be quite the accomplished liar, you know that?”
Harry shook his head as he picked up his quill and prepared to continue his essay. “I can hold back information when I need to, but I’m still no good at telling bold-faced lies. To tell the truth, I’m not sure I’d want to be.”
“You’ll leave that to me, will you?” she asked in an amused voice as she took out her own essay.
Harry laughed quietly. “Something like that,” he answered. They worked in silence for the next two hours, until Ron meandered over to their table and asked Harry if he was in the mood for a game of chess. More than ready to take a break, Harry readily agreed, and moved to an armchair near the fire, where Ron had the chessboard waiting.
“So, how’s sixth year going?” Ron asked after making his first move.
“Okay, I guess. A lot of work, obviously, but I suppose that’s pretty normal around here.” Harry moved his pawn forward a space.
“Yeah, it is. I’d never have made it to seventh year without Hermione constantly making me study and do my homework,” Ron laughed as he studied the chessboard. “Hey, did you know Hermione has Potions right after you?”
Harry nodded. “She mentioned it last week.”
Ron moved his knight and then said, “She told me Snape’s been in an even fouler mood than usual this term. I thought it might have something to do with you, but you haven’t been in detention yet, so I wasn’t sure.”
Harry laughed out loud at the thought of the murderous expression that crossed Snape’s face at the end of every lesson, when his and Ginny’s concoction was obviously the best in the class. “I haven’t told you my new philosophy for dealing with Snape, have I?” he asked.
Ron shook his head. “You going to move?”
“Oh, right.” Harry moved another pawn after barely glancing at the board. There was no point trying to win; Ron would trounce him regardless. “Anyway, I decided to be the perfect student in Snape’s class so he wouldn’t have any excuse to punish me.”
Ron gaped openly at him. “So why’s that put him in a foul mood?”
“Come on, Ron; you know even better than I do how much Snape hates me. He wants me to mess up so he can punish me, and it drives him mad to see me being a model student.”
Ron grinned. “So you’re getting good marks, staying out of detention, and making Snape miserable? Why didn’t we think of this years ago?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say good marks,” Harry corrected. “This is Snape, after all. Still, when Ginny and I obviously do better than everybody else in the class, he can’t very well mark us too terribly low, can he? Did you know he’s got a pretty big vein on the left side of his forehead?”
“No,” Ron answered, looking strangely at his friend. “Why would I notice something like that?”
“No reason, I guess. But when he’s angry, it sort of swells up just like the vein on my Uncle Vernon’s temple. On Monday, I swear it I saw it pulsating.”
Ron laughed gleefully. “Are you trying to make Snape pop a blood vessel in his head, Harry?” he asked with mock-severity.
“That was Ginny’s idea,” Harry admitted, breaking into a grin. “Rather brilliant, wouldn’t you say?”
“Well, she is a Weasley,” Ron responded. “Are you even paying attention to the game anymore, Harry?”
Harry shook his head sheepishly. He had barely even looked at the chessboard for several moves now.
“I didn’t think so,” said Ron. “You know, you might actually get better if you paid attention every once in a while. Tyler got loads better at chess over the summer just by watching.”
“Tyler!” Harry suddenly exclaimed. “I can’t believe I forgot; we’ve been here well over a week, and I haven’t even written to him yet.”
Ron moved his bishop and grinned triumphantly. “Checkmate,” he said. “Now go write your letter before you forget again.”
Shaking his head in amazement at Ron’s ability to play chess and carry on a conversation at the same time, Harry returned to the table where he had been working. Pulling out a spare piece of parchment, he began to write.
Dear Tyler,
Sorry I didn’t write sooner. Things have been so busy that I completely forgot. Sorry about that. Anyway, life at Hogwarts is good. The classes are a lot more work than at St. Brutus’s, but they’re a lot more fun, too. How are your classes with Mrs. Weasley going? What sorts of things are you learning about?
Harry paused, sucking on the end on his quill as he tried to decide what else to write.
Your guess about Snape turned out to be right. I’ve been treating him like Davies, and it’s kept me out of detention so far. He hates me way more than Davies ever did, though, which means he gets even angrier when he can’t find anything to punish me for. Ginny and I are partners in his class, and we have a goal of making him pop a blood vessel in his head before the end of the year. I think we might actually be able to do it.
Oh, I wanted to tell you about the weirdest thing out of all the weird things I’ve seen here. It’s the Sorting, where they assign the first-years to their houses. Want to know who makes that decision? It’s not the Headmaster or any of the teachers. It’s a really old hat. The Sorting Hat sings a song about the four Hogwarts houses, and then yells out which house each new student belongs in. Doesn’t that seem a little strange, even for wizards? Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s cool, but... a hat?
Anyway, I’d better get back to my homework. Let me know how things are at the Burrow.
Harry
After signing his name, Harry folded up the letter and started putting it in his bag when he was stopped by Ron’s voice.
“Aren’t you going to send it?” he asked.
Harry turned around to face his friend. “Yeah,” he replied, “but I’ll have to wait until tomorrow; it’s after curfew.”
“Since when has that ever stopped you?” Ron asked, giving him a strange look. Apparently, Harry’s habit of sneaking out after hours was not something he picked up at St. Brutus’s.
Harry shrugged. “I used to sneak out late at night all the time at St. Brutus’s, but that was after the guards quit patrolling. I thought Filch and the teachers patrolled the corridors pretty much all night here.”
“So?” said Ron. “Just use your cloak.”
Harry looked at him like he had just sprouted another head. “Er, Ron... I’m not trying to stay warm; I’m trying not to be seen.”
“You mean we never told you about that?” Ron gasped in disbelief. “I can’t believe we missed that when we were telling you about all the trouble we’ve gotten into together.”
“Ron, what’re you talking about?” Harry asked impatiently.
Ron nodded toward the stairs to the boys’ dormitories. “Come on and I’ll show you. Bring your letter.” The two friends hurried up the stairs and into their empty dormitory, where Ron threw open the lid to Harry’s trunk. Upon seeing the jumbled pile of books, robes, and other miscellaneous items, he observed, “You still haven’t bothered to go through all your stuff, have you?”
Harry shook his head. “Hermione had me using all the books over the summer, and Ginny showed me the photo album, but other than that I’ve just pulled stuff out as I needed it.”
“Well, my friend, today is your lucky day,” Ron replied as he pulled a shimmering silvery cloak out of Harry’s trunk. “Put this on,” he instructed with a smirk.
Harry did as he was told, wrapping the cloak around himself.
“How’s it feel?” Ron asked.
Harry shrugged. “It feels fine.”
“Take a look in the mirror,” Ron suggested. His voice was casual - so casual in fact, that it made Harry slightly nervous as he turned around to face the mirror. However, even with that unintentional warning, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw: his disembodied head was floating in midair.
Harry screamed and jumped backward. Looking down at where his body ought to be, he saw that this was not a trick of the mirror; his body was gone. Only it couldn’t be gone, because he was still able to move around.
“What’s going on?” he asked warily.
“It’s an Invisibility Cloak, Harry,” Ron laughed. “You should’ve seen your face when you first looked in the mirror.”
“I did see my face,” Harry muttered, shaking his head as he took off the cloak. “Isn’t that what you usually see when you look in the mirror?”
“Oh. Right,” said Ron. “Anyway, that cloak used to belong to your dad. Dumbledore gave it to you back in first year.”
Harry looked more closely at the silvery cloak in his hands. “This was my dad’s?” he whispered, more to himself than to Ron.
“Yeah,” Ron replied. “And the Marauder’s Map is in here too. Remember me telling you about that?”
“Yeah,” Harry said enthusiastically. “That’s the map that shows where everyone is in the castle, right? I’d forgotten all about it.”
“Well, here it is,” Ron announced, pulling a very old and worn-looking piece of parchment out of Harry’s trunk. He touched his wand to it and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” Moments later a map of Hogwarts, complete with labeled dots representing all the people in the castle and on the grounds, appeared on the parchment.
“It looks like your way to the owlery’s all clear,” Ron said after checking the map. “Take this with you just in case, though. And stay under your cloak. I’ll go open the portrait hole for you.”
“All right,” said Harry as he took the Map and pulled the Invisibility Cloak over his head. “After you, Mr. Head Boy.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “Just follow me, and don’t bump into anybody,” he instructed as he led Harry back down to the common room. Thankfully, there weren’t very many people milling about, so reaching the portrait hole without attracting attention was an easy task for Harry. Ron casually pushed it open and peered out into the darkened corridor as if he was expecting to find someone lurking in the shadows.
As Harry slipped past him, he whispered, “Thanks, Ron.”
“No problem,” Ron muttered as he closed the portrait hole.
Completely hidden from view, Harry strolled through the corridors toward the owlery. When he arrived several minutes later and pulled off his Invisibility Cloak, Hedwig greeted him with a hoot.
“Hey there, girl,” he called softly. “This is just like old times, isn’t it? Me sneaking out after curfew to talk to you and send off a letter?”
Hedwig hooted and fluttered down from the rafters to a perch that put her level with Harry’s eyes. Harry hurriedly tied his letter to her leg and stroked her feathers affectionately for a moment.
“Thanks for always being there for me, Hedwig,” he said after a moment. “I never would’ve made it back here without you. Take care of yourself, okay?”
She nipped his fingers affectionately before giving one final hoot and soaring out the window.