Harry Potter and the House of Ravenclaw

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Chapter One - Long Hard Summers

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The summer had been long and hard; the hardest Albus Dumbledore had encountered in many years. The return of Voldemort had not been itself unexpected but the timing had been. If he was truly honest Albus would have expected Voldemort’s return to be at least a couple of years away, but there was no use dwelling on events he could not change.

Albus had entertained many theories about how Voldemort - or Tom Riddle as Albus preferred to think of him - could return from his ‘death’, but each one he came up with sounded more ridiculous than the previous one. The rebirth of the Dark Lord had been in Albus’ mind, ever since Peter Pettigrew’s betrayal of James and Lily Potter had been revealed to him almost two years ago. Albus had not seriously believed, however, that Pettigrew was brave enough to find his former master or be of any use if he did. This had been a major miscalculation on Albus’ part.

Had he known how desperate Riddle was becoming, he would have acted sooner. Riddle was no longer aiming for his former self. Any mortal body would do to allow him to carry out his actions. Immortality could wait. Now it was a reality for those willing to see the truth.

Sitting in his office, Albus frowned at the inaction of the Ministry of Magic. Riddle had been back for nearly two months and still Cornelius Fudge refused to do anything. Instead, the Minister of Magic had chosen to label both Albus and Harry Potter liars. Fudge had even gone so far as to pass an education decree: if the Headmaster could not find a suitable instructor for a vacant teaching position at Hogwarts, then the position would be filled by a Ministry appointee. Albus could see this decree for what it really was: an attempt by the Ministry to keep an eye on him via a post at Hogwarts. Fudge was convinced Albus was trying to oust him from his position as Minister of Magic. Albus shook his head at what a paranoid, small-minded fool the Minister was. How could he put the value of his position over the well-being of the people he was meant to be serving?

The answer was simple: power. Power was everything to some. Tom Riddle valued it. Why not someone as weak as Fudge? The power he received from the title of Minister was enviable to some, but was of little interest to Albus Dumbledore.

The decree had prompted the headmaster to make some drastic changes in his staff. The position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was once again open, but so were the teaching posts of Muggle Studies and History of Magic. This presented something of a problem. It was likely that he could fill two of the three openings but with a rumour of a curse on the third the prospect of a Ministry official looked more and more likely.

Not surprisingly, there were only two people who applied for the job of DADA professor. Of those two, Albus would never present the job to one, despite the fact they applied year after year. The other applicant, however, had been the subject of letters from many parents for the better part of a year now. At first, the letters had been less than pleasant concerning the nature of the teacher’s personal situation. However, slowly but surely, the nature of the letters had changed. Their tone became more complimentary, and in the end the majority requested the reappointment of the individual in question. Albus was been relieved to comply.

This left Albus with the task of filling the remaining two teaching positions before the fifteenth of August; the deadline the Ministry had so kindly set.

The interviews had been disappointing. Albus found it difficult to believe there were so many people who had teaching qualifications but little to no experience with children. The headmaster was on the brink of surrender and had started to prepare himself for two Ministry ‘teachers’ when he received an owl.

~~~~~

Albus rose from his desk and made his way through the maze of corridors that was Hogwarts.

Preparations still had to be made before the school would be ready for the students to return. Final checks here and there, little details that made the school run like clockwork.

As the headmaster rounded a corner, Argus Filch came into view, standing in the doorway of a disused classroom.

“Good morning, Argus,” Albus called cheerfully. “I take it from your note you have found a room which can be made available.”

Filch nodded slowly. “It was short notice, Headmaster, but I think this room will do just fine.”

Filch motioned to the room and Dumbledore stepped forward in order to inspect Filch’s choice.

The room was cramped and ill lit. There was only space in the grate for a small fire, which meant that the room would be cold all year round. Candles burnt dimly in the seven candlesticks scattered around the stripped room, and there were only three tiny windows. The blackboard looked grey from ancient chalk residue and the whole room smelt of dust. More candles would be needed along with a modest chandelier if this room were ever to be of use. There were only eleven chairs and thirteen and a half desks; more would be needed if this were to be the new Muggle Studies classroom.

“No doubt she will complain, but eventually she will get used to it and decorate it as she likes,” Albus said. The headmaster smiled at the man who stood to the left of him.

Filch sighed. “How long do you reckon she’ll moan for?”

“Oh, I’d say a good month at least.” The old man’s smile grew as he spoke. “But she will be happy deep down.”

“I’ll make sure it’s cleaner for when she arrives and I’ll find some better desks and chairs.” Filch nodded to Albus and set off towards his office, the headmaster watching him all the way down the corridor.

Albus walked slowly up the stairs and made his way back to his own study. There was only a week left until term started, signalling yet another eventful year, especially in the light of Voldemort’s rebirth. After the events of the Triwizard Tournament, the headmaster had been looking forward to a quieter year at the school. However, it was rarely quiet at Hogwarts and things looked set to take a more lively turn.

Yes, things were sure to change.

**********

Professor Severus Snape sat in his office preparing his lesson plans for the upcoming term.

He’d completed the first four years with ease, but had decided to take his time when it came to preparing the fifth years’ lesson plans. After all it was their O.W.L. year, and it was Potter’s year.

He’d just settled on whether or not to test poisons on Longbottom when there was a knock on the door.

“Enter.”

Filch popped his head round the door nervously and gave a weak smile.

“What do you want?” Severus snapped at him without looking up from his lesson plan. “I’m really quite busy.”

“Have you heard about the new teachers coming this year?” Filch asked anxiously.

“What? No, I haven’t. Why? Have I been overlooked as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher again?”

Filch considered this question for a while before answering. “Lupin is coming back to teach it.”

“What!” Severus’ head shot up from his work.

“He’s coming to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts again. But that’s not all.”

Severus couldn’t believe that Dumbledore had asked the werewolf back, after the mockery that had been made of him last time. The Potions Master shook his head in disbelief, thinking back to when Lupin had allowed Neville Longbottom to turn a Boggart into him, wearing a dress! It had taken him months to live that down and now Lupin was coming back.

Filch seemed to be growing uncomfortable in the silence that was growing between him and Severus. In a probable attempt to make conversation, he continued to relay the rest of his information as quickly as possible.

“We are also getting a new History of Magic teacher and a new Muggle Studies teacher. Two former students, but I couldn’t find out their names.”

Severus wasn’t listening anymore. He continued to sit behind his desk, a look of pure loathing etched on his face.

“Just thought you’d want to know.” Filch shrugged.

Severus snapped back to reality. “Oh… yes. Thank you.”

Filch looked taken aback, had he never before heard Severus say ‘thank you’ to anyone other than Dumbledore? “Err… you’re welcome.”

Filch left Severus alone, the Potions Master lost in thought. Who could the two new teachers be? They were former students, but from when?

And Lupin. Lupin would be back in all his noble Gryffindor glory. Lupin had been given the job that was rightfully his. Severus could feel his anger growing inside him. Without thinking he swept everything off his desk in a fit of rage.

He looked down at the pieces of broken bottle and scattered paper. He felt like he could cry. He knew he’d done some terrible things in his time, but hadn’t he worked hard? He had put everything at risk by becoming a spy.

Almost all his family had abandoned him when they had discovered he had been in league with Voldemort. He had been forced to face everything alone. He had resigned himself to the fact that he was never likely to marry or have children because of this. He had tried to impress Dumbledore at every turn. But no matter what he did he was overlooked. He deserved that job. But despite his qualifications, he could still hear Dumbledore’s voice in his head:

“I know you could do it, Severus, but many people would be wary of a former Death Eater who teaches Defence Against the Dark Arts. Besides, you have a natural gift for potions.”

He knew, deep down, that Dumbledore was right as usual. He knew he was good at his job; he was the best Potions Master the school had ever seen. But still he was drawn to that job. Or was it, that he was still drawn to the Dark Arts and that’s why Dumbledore would never give him that post?

He sighed as he got down on his knees and started to pick up his notes from the mess he’d made. He always seemed to be cleaning up after himself, whether it was a spilt potion or spilt blood. He was forever mending and cleaning.

“Leave that for the house elves, Severus.” As Dumbledore’s voice came from behind him, the crouching teacher spun around, almost losing balance. “It’s time we had a talk about the new teachers.”

“I already know Lupin is coming.” Severus scowled.

“Yes, I thought you might have heard.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled.

“Indeed. So who are the other two?” Severus asked as he clambered to his feet. “Who did you find to teach History of Magic and Muggle Studies?”

“They are former students. I believe you know them. From two years above your year, if my memory serves correctly.” Dumbledore said, smiling kindly at him.

“Who?” Severus cocked his head. He desperately searched his brain for who Dumbledore could have hired. “Don’t tell me. Please not…”

“There’s no need to get into that now.” Dumbledore continued to smile, which only served to reinforce Severus’ suspicions. “There will be plenty of time for reunions next week.”

“I wish you had talked to me before you hired her.” Severus frowned. “It could make for some surprises in front of the students.”

“Well, sometimes it is good for all of us to be surprised. I remember how surprised I was to hear young Mr. Potter had defeated Voldemort when he was only a year old.” Dumbledore watched as Severus winced at the name of his former master. “Yes, sometimes a surprise can be good for you. That is, if you are correct in your guess,” Dumbledore added with a small smile.

“I hope I’m not. I’d rather not resurrect this particular topic in front of the students.” Severus sighed heavily. “Especially specific students who have an unpleasant habit of uncovering secrets.”

“I see.” Dumbledore nodded. “Well, perhaps it will do you some good. It will keep you on your toes, Severus.” Dumbledore paused, taking in Severus’ mildly amused expression. “Come. Let us retire to the staff room. I’m in need of a cup of tea.”

**********

Harry Potter sat in his room and stared out of the window. Every summer seemed to drag on for years rather than the two months it truly was. Most schoolboys longed for the summer; Harry loathed it. It was nothing but an annoying interruption to his school year, during which he was in his real home, with his real friends, at Hogwarts.

There was only a week to go until he would be on the Hogwarts Express with Ron and Hermione, but it seemed like an eternity to Harry.

Hedwig sat sleeping in her cage in the corner of his room. As usual he had not been allowed to let her out as much as she was used to at school. She was allowed out after dark only on weekdays. Sadly she seemed used to it now, something that Harry found quite unnerving. Owls should want to fly around and be free, however when Hedwig had been let out for Harry to clean her cage she had sat on his table next to the open window. Once he had finished she stepped gracefully back inside with no fuss. It wasn’t normal.

Harry hadn’t been able to see any of his friends this summer. Ron was on holiday with his family: Mrs Weasley had won a competition in Witch Weekly for a family trip to Paris. Ron had promised to send him a postcard and bring back presents. His postcard had arrived, complete with Ron’s hurried handwriting about how great Paris was.

Harry turned to the notice board next to his bed, Ron’s postcard hung next to his postcard from Hermione. She was with her parents in Scotland for the last two weeks, leaving Harry to the mercy of the Dursleys. It had been a summer to remember all his life for being so unbelievably horrid.

Dudley had gotten chicken pox from one of his school friends; Harry had had them when he was nine. When Harry had them he had been quarantined in his cupboard for two weeks. Dudley, however, had had the satellite television and the big TV from downstairs, plus all of his meals served in bed; his special diet forgotten.

“Needs more food.” Uncle Vernon would say. “Starving him on that bloody stupid diet, that’s what’s done this. His body is weakened, his immune system has gone to shot.”

Dudley had been allowed his favourite meals and snacks again and to make him feel even better Aunt Petunia had insisted on keeping Harry on Dudley’s diet.

Little did she know that again, the same as the year before, Harry had been sent food parcels from his friends. He had fruit, buns, chocolate and all manner of things that Mrs Weasley had sent him. He also had his birthday cakes left; well, two and a half of the four he’d been sent: one from Hermione, one from Hagrid, one from Ron and a chocolate muffin his godfather Sirius had sent him.

Harry was thankful that Dudley was bed bound and knew nothing of the treats Harry had hidden in his bedroom.

Chicken pox, even when severe, lasts for about two weeks. Dudley had managed to stretch his for coming up on four weeks. Harry thought he was trying to get out of going to school next Monday and he thought that Uncle Vernon had cottoned on to that fact as well.

Harry stood up and walked over to his wardrobe. Opening it he pulled out his box of wizard books, newspapers and magazines. These were his emergency supply. Just in case things got really bad he could read these and remember that he was a wizard and one day things would be better.

They had been a welcome distraction for Harry from the crushing anxiety he felt whenever he thought about what was to come.

With the return of Voldemort only weeks before Harry had not been sleeping well. Every time he closed his eyes he relived the whole thing, from his and Cedric’s arrival in the cemetery to his final escape with Cedric’s body. Each time Harry would wake up pouring with sweat, his heart pounding.

The only thing that gave him any comfort were the regular letters from his godfather Sirius. Owing to the fact that owl post was most likely being watched by both the Ministry of Magic and Voldemort’s Death Eaters, Sirius had taken to sending him letters by Muggle post. Luckily for Harry Sirius knew enough about Muggle post to know to only put one stamp on unlike Mrs Weasley who had nearly covered the entire envelope in stamps the year before. Of course Uncle Vernon had demanded to know who was writing to Harry, but Harry had coolly answered truthfully that it was his godfather and that had settled that matter.

Sirius sent him information about what was happening in the wizarding world, reminding him to keep his head down but his eyes open. Taking Sirius’s lead Mrs Weasley, probably with help from either Sirius or Hermione, had sent him a package filled with the wizarding magazines and of course food.

Inside his ’emergency’ box were three books on Quidditch, one on wand care and another book about magic owls that he gotten from Hermione for his birthday this year. He had four copies of the Daily Prophet, which he read over and over, and another four copies of Witch Weekly . Mrs Weasley had sent them to him saying:

“There’s some good things in here. Very interesting magazine.”

Witch Weekly was actually a magazine for housewife witches but Harry had found some interesting things in it. There were articles about how to tell if your broom was angry, what to do if you got lost in Muggle cities, and about famous wizarding families and individuals.

He had found a rather interesting piece about the four houses of Hogwarts. The article was part three of a four-part series, but Harry had only this one part. It focused on the Ravenclaw family and how it had overcome adversity to become one of the most influential families in the wizarding world. The family had helped to found Hogwarts, but after Rowena Ravenclaw had died her family had lost a lot of its money and become nearly bankrupt. The article went on about the most recent heir, Bevan Ravenclaw, who had fought along with his father to regain the family’s honour and wealth.

What Harry had found the most interesting, though, was that both the Weasley and the Malfoy families were mentioned in the article. However, it only said that “the Ravenclaw, Malfoy, and Weasley families enjoyed success and happiness to this day“.

Harry couldn’t wait to talk to Ron once he got on the Hogwarts Express.