Harry Potter and the Death Eater's Son

1. A Fresh Start?

Harry felt lost. The meaning that his life had gained since starting at Hogwarts had evaporated at the end of last year, all as a result of one impulsive act. The routine, the background to his existence was still in place: he was still at the Dursley's, and he still had Hogwarts to look forward to. But his perspective on things was bleaker than before. This time last year he had had the dream of being able to live with his godfather--once Sirius's name had been cleared--rather than the Dursleys. Last year, he was also blissfully ignorant of the prophecy involving him and Voldemort.

Harry hated Voldemort with a passion, and he wanted to know that Voldemort was going to pay for all that had occurred. But for him to be the one to do this? And to be responsible for murder? Harry had felt capable of it before--when he first thought that Sirius was responsible for deaths of his parents--but now, something inside of him felt weaker; he lacked conviction. And now that Sirius had died, Harry no longer had someone to fight for. But it was probably just as well, he reasoned, as people's lives seemed to be more at risk whenever they had a connection to him. So Harry stopped himself from caring about the future and his connections with other people; he just spent his summer going through the motions, living from one moment to the next and ignoring what fate would eventually expect from him.

Although he was able to keep in touch with his friends this year, Harry still felt isolated and lonely, as it just wasn't the same as being able to talk to them all in person. Most of all, Harry missed his godfather, even though he never really had the chance to get to know the man properly. No matter how hard he tried to believe Professor Dumbledore, or any of his well-meaning friends, he could not stop feeling guilty whenever his thoughts strayed to the end of last year, and they drifted in that direction far too often for Harry's liking. His negligence, his stupidity, and his arrogance--he could never deny that they all contributed to the death of Sirius Black in their own way. How could he convey all he felt just in words on a piece of parchment? It felt so impersonal to hash out his feelings in this way, to have a long-distance conversation with no personal touches; there was no one to look at him whilst he talked, no one to hold him and give him a word of encouragement at the very moment it was needed. So he never mentioned any of it unless he was specifically asked, and then he would only reply in his next letter with 'I'm doing okay'.

At least hearing about Ron and Hermione's summer exploits cheered him up and gave him a distraction from moping, though their letters also reminded him just how disconnected from them he had felt since the incident at the Ministry. At the end of last term, they had avoided discussing Harry's mistake and the loss of his godfather with him. Probably because they didn't want to upset him, Harry thought. He had the feeling that, as time went by, it was less likely the subject would be broached at all.

Harry had also received news that Remus Lupin would be returning once more to Hogwarts as the teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts. After Fudge's grand error last year, by publicly ignoring Dumbledore's assertions that Voldemort had returned, Dumbledore was in a position to insist upon Lupin's reinstatement. The headmaster firmly believed that Lupin would not be in a situation where he could harm the students of the school, and he was certain that having a werewolf openly teaching at Hogwarts could only help to reduce intolerance in these matters. Harry had a lot of respect for Remus Lupin, and he had learned more from him than from any of his predecessors. So the news of Lupin's return pleased Harry, and it meant there wouldn't be any dud teachers applying for the position this year.

All in all, the summer had passed fairly peacefully for Harry--far more peacefully than he had anticipated given what had happened in previous years. There were Death Eaters detained in Azkaban, who had been expected to escape, but as yet, they had failed to do so. Harry had been involved when the Death Eaters concerned had been caught. The downside to their continued imprisonment was the fact that Draco Malfoy would undoubtedly be trying to make Harry's life hell when they returned to Hogwarts: Draco held Harry personally responsible for his father's incarceration. This was confirmed towards the end of the summer holidays when he had met up with Ron and Hermione in Diagon Alley.

The three friends were entering Flourish and Blotts to buy their books when Draco Malfoy passed them on his way out. Harry automatically tensed and made to ignore him, but Malfoy stopped in their path.

"So, you're stupid enough to come back to Hogwarts, Potter. You'd better watch your back this year--nobody puts my father in Azkaban and gets away with it." He glared at Harry, making full use of his gain in height in an attempt to intimidate the Gryffindor.

Harry merely looked back at him with disdain. The image from the end of last year of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle resembling three gigantic slugs came to mind. How could Malfoy think that Harry would find him intimidating? And after all that had happened to Harry, would Malfoy be capable of doing anything that really mattered?

"I didn't make your father become a lap dog for Voldemort," Harry replied, his voice thick with sarcasm. "I thought that was all his own bad judgement."

Malfoy reacted instantly, drawing his wand and scowling. Harry's hand shot to his own wand, tucked inside his jacket. If he wanted to have a duel in public, Harry wasn't afraid; he knew he'd have the upper hand.

"Mind your mouth, Potter," Malfoy spat back at Harry, unwittingly attracting the attention of a man serving behind the counter. The man stared at them indignantly.

"Put your wands down in my shop, right now!" he called out sharply. They both complied, to an extent, by lowering their wands, but they still kept them pointed at each other.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. He seemed to be seriously thinking about casting a hex, anyway, but he sulkily jammed his wand back into the folds of his cloak before storming out.

"I don't think it's a good idea to bait him," Hermione said. "He's going to be difficult enough as it is."

"So you think Harry should just sit back and take it?" Ron asked in disbelief. "It's not our fault his father is a Death Eater."

Hermione frowned at him. "But we don't need to be making things worse. We're not even at school, and he's already come close to hexing Harry in public."

"Look, Hermione, I know you mean well," Harry said, "but Malfoy just doesn't seem that scary anymore. Not after all I've been through."

"It doesn't stop him from doing something that you aren't expecting, something you can't defend yourself against. You know that he never fights fair, and he really seems up for revenge."

When they had finished buying their supplies they talked as they made their way to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Ron's mum had told him he wasn't to spend any money there; he was under strict instructions only to buy school things. But he was still hopeful that Harry might be able to get a couple of freebies, given that Harry was Fred and George's "official sponsor", as Ron had put it.

"Ginny's been made a prefect, too. Mum's ecstatic." Ron pulled a face to show just how sickening he found the whole business, and Harry was very tempted to point out how much Ron had enjoyed the attention last year when he was made prefect.

"We haven't told you about Oliver Wood, have we," Hermione said excitedly.

"Yeah," added Ron. "We only found out this morning."

"So what's happened? Is he still playing for the Puddlemere United reserve team?" Harry asked, eager to find out the gossip.

"No, he's been pulled out," Ron said dramatically. "Had a nasty injury involving a couple of dodgy Bludgers. He was in a bit of a mess when they pulled him off of the pitch. Apparently, there was blood everywhere... So, he's having to take a couple of months off."

"Really? He's going to be okay, though?" Harry was puzzled at the excited expressions on his friends' faces. "Why do you two seem so pleased about it?"

"I suppose it's a bit mean of us," Hermione said. "It's just that Dumbledore has persuaded him to spend his time helping out at Hogwarts. He's going to be an assistant to Madame Hooch and will be organising all the Quidditch matches."

"I bet the Slytherins won't be happy about that," Harry said with a laugh.

***

Harry stayed at The Burrow overnight, and he travelled with them to the station the following morning. Students bustled about, wheeling their luggage towards the train, whilst parents fussed and said their goodbyes. It seemed to Harry that the first years seemed to be shrinking with every passing year. He grimaced as he noticed that a couple of the tiny bodies had recognised him, and they were pointing and whispering to each other in awe. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione soon headed for the prefects' carriage, promising to find Harry later and leaving him to find his own seat.

He bundled his belongings onto the train and found a carriage where Luna, Neville, Seamus, and Dean were already sitting. Luna was, as usual, buried in an upside-down copy of The Quibbler, Neville was lovingly cradling his Mimbulus mimbletonia, which had grown over a foot since Harry had last seen it, and Seamus and Dean were in the midst of an animated discussion.

"So, how's it going with Ron?" Seamus asked Dean as Harry put his case out of the way and sat down. "He hasn't given you any lectures on dating his sister yet?"

"No, I haven't seen him. I hope he won't be awkward about it. Has he said anything to you, Harry?"

"Well, er, he was a little... surprised when he found out, but I guess he's had all summer to get used to the idea." Harry had a feeling that things had the potential to get a little awkward in their dormitory this year, and he had avoided thinking about it so far. Hopefully, Ron would leave Dean and Ginny be, and things wouldn't get too messy if they were to break up. Not having a sister, Harry couldn't quite understand the depth of Ron's protectiveness, and it was clear that Ginny didn't appreciate it.

"You'll have to be on your best behaviour, Dean," Seamus smirked. "One foot out of line, and he'll have your head on the block--or another part of your anatomy."

Harry watched and laughed as Seamus continued to wind Dean up, causing him to worry excessively about Ron. Before long, they heard Malfoy's penetrating voice from down the corridor.

"Sounds like the prefects are doing the rounds already. I wonder where Ginny is," Dean mused, looking a little excited at the prospect of seeing her.

"She'll be along soon, with Hermione and Ron..." Harry trailed off as he noticed Dean pale slightly. He was tempted to join in with Seamus and tease Dean a little, but the thought rapidly disappeared when an unwelcome guest arrived.

The door to their carriage was suddenly jerked open, and Malfoy stood outside, flanked, as usual, by Crabbe and Goyle. The Slytherin then waltzed in, with Crabbe and Goyle squeezing in behind.

"Just doing my duty as a prefect, Potter. Got to be sure you haven't got anything in here that you shouldn't."

Harry eyed Malfoy carefully as he took a good look at everything in the carriage as if hoping something illegal would jump out at them that they could report.

"You won't find anything, so you might as well clear off, Malfoy. Unless you're looking for trouble."

"Don't worry, Potter. I'm not about to start anything. Not at the moment," Malfoy leered and then turned to leave. As he passed through the doors, he looked at Harry. "Just thought I'd come and wish you luck. I think you're going to need it."

"Do you know what he's got planned for you, Harry?" Luna asked, looking up from her paper.

"I'm more than able to give as good as I get," Harry said and then he remembered what Hermione had said about Malfoy never playing fair. "But I'll be keeping my eyes open: I don't fancy having any surprises."

For the first time since entering the carriage, Harry registered that Luna was, once again, sitting with Gryffindors instead of her own house. Curious, he asked, "Are you still having trouble with the other Ravenclaws?"

She nodded as Ron, Hermione, and Ginny turned up, Ginny giving Dean a shy smile and Ron staring at Dean with suspicion. Dean didn't know where to look, so he just shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, glancing between the pair of them.

"They continue to avoid me because they think I'm weird, if that's what you mean," Luna replied, completely ignoring the unspoken politics occurring in the carriage. "But I don't mind being 'weird,' as they call it, because it just means that I think differently. And Daddy says that thinking differently is a good thing. He says it means you sometimes get to notice extra things that other people miss."

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"Like the fact that Goyle slipped something into your bag when they were in here."

Everyone's attention was now on the bag in question, and Harry immediately made a grab for it, rummaging through to find whatever Malfoy had decided to plant on him. Probably something I'm not supposed to have that I'm going to get searched for at Hogwarts, Harry thought to himself.

"Harry, no!" Hermione yelled, grabbing his shoulder. "You don't know what--"

But her gesture was too late.

"Ouch!" Harry withdrew his hand from the bag. "Something's bit me." He held his hand up for them all to see. A half-moon of bloody pin-pricks had begun to well up across his palm.

Hermione stood up and drew her wand. "Empty your bag on the floor, Harry. Wait! I think we should all stand on the seats--just to be on the safe side."

The eight of them balanced precariously in the small standing space, holding onto the luggage rack for support, and as Harry held the bag at arm's length and shook it, they saw what looked like a lobster land and begin to scuttle away. Only this one was grey with deep-green spots.

"Stupefy," Hermione yelled, and the creature stilled.

"What on earth is that?" Ron asked as he jumped down and peered at the stupefied invertebrate, poking it tentatively with his shoe.

"Do you ever pay attention in class?" Hermione asked haughtily. "Harry, you know, don't you?" She turned to Harry expectantly, but he merely shook his head blankly.

"It's a Mackled Malaclaw," she answered for him, waiting for recognition to light in their eyes. Only Luna seemed to acknowledge the name, and she turned to study Harry with interest.

"Is it poisonous? Am I going to break out in seeping warts, or something?" Harry asked nervously.

"No, but it will make you unlucky for a few days."

"Unlucky! What do you mean?" As he stepped down from the seat, Harry's ankle gave way, and he fell to the floor, crushing his glasses in the process. Seamus unsuccessfully tried to stifle a laugh at this, snorting in the process.

"I think you should go straight to Madame Pomfrey when we get to Hogwarts," Hermione insisted. "She might be able to give you an antidote."

When the train arrived in Hogsmeade, they gave the stupefied Malaclaw to Hagrid before going up to the castle. Hermione made a point of escorting Harry to the hospital wing, just to make sure he got there in one piece. So far, he had managed to tear a huge rip in his robes, have a couple of hundred pages come loose from his potions text, walk into two doors, and break his glasses on no fewer than three more occasions, and when the others had started playing Exploding Snap on the train he had absolutely refused to join in. After hearing what had bitten Harry, Madam Pomfrey had responded with a hearty, "you're in luck!" and Harry winced at her choice of words. She then bustled off to an adjoining room and returned holding a small blue vial.

"I've only got one bottle left," she explained. "It takes two weeks to prepare, so people usually just have to live with the bad luck."

She removed the stopper and handed the vial to Harry. He took it and moved to drink the liquid, but the vial slipped through his fingers, smashing onto the floor.

"Oh, dear. Looks like you'll need to be careful for the next few days," she sympathised. "Not to worry, though--it'll have worn off by the weekend."

"This isn't fair," Harry sulked.

***

If nothing else, the first week back at Hogwarts was a memorable one for Harry. Much to his annoyance, he had become a frequent visitor to the hospital wing, thanks to his increased clumsiness. He had also become quite adept at a selection of repair charms and cleaning charms--he needed the latter as he seemed to have problems getting food into his mouth and not down his front. All week he kept reminding himself of his first week back last year: detentions from Umbridge, not knowing where Hagrid was, everyone assuming he was a loony, and missing the Quidditch try-outs. At least things weren't that bad. But to his dismay, he succeeded in causing a disruption in every class--the worst experience being Potions. Nobody wanted to be paired with him in any of the classes. Everyone had heard about the Malaclaw, and even Ron and Hermione had taken to working together, without him. Luckily for everyone--other than Harry--practical work in Potions at N.E.W.T. level was no longer carried out in pairs.

Snape had begun the lesson with a lecture on how he expected only the best from his N.E.W.T. students, and anyone treating the lessons with the same apathy that they approached their O.W.L.s with would be out on their ears in an instant. Harry silently fumed as the Professor made a point of staring at him during this little speech. Professor Snape then proceeded to spend most of the lesson picking on Harry, obviously knowing about the Malaclaw bite. Hermione couldn't stop herself from sticking up for him.

"But Harry's been bitten by a Mackled Malaclaw, sir. You can't expect him to--"

"So, he finally has a genuine excuse for being so incompetent. It still doesn't change the fact that he is incompetent. Five points from Gryffindor, for speaking out of turn, Miss Granger."

During that lesson, Harry, for his sins, couldn't help biting back, and he ended up on the receiving end of a detention and thirty lost house points. Although twenty of those were taken after he had finally decided to keep his head down and keep quiet...

They had been concocting a potion involving Carras root, a magical plant that was a key ingredient in warming tonics used in the hospital wing. But you had to be careful not to set it alight, or even get a spark close to it, and Snape made a point of glaring at Harry as he informed the class of this. Harry did not fail to lower himself to his teacher's expectations by accidentally brushing the ends through the cauldron fire, and he was surprised when the ends were only glowing rather than reacting with a bang as he thought they would. Snape bore down on him when the rancid smell of singed Carras root drifted through the classroom. At first, he assumed Snape was just overreacting for the excuse to pick on him when the professor magically sealed the glowing Carras. Snape then proceeded to lecture on the fuse-like behaviour of the root, burning slowly until finally detonating. As the Professor spoke, the root exploded violently inside the magically sealed bubble, illustrating his point precisely and causing Harry to wince at his own clumsiness.

By the time Friday evening arrived, Harry believed that his spate of bad luck had finally run out just in time for the Gryffindor Quidditch try-outs. Their three Chasers had left at the end of last year, and with Ginny taking one of the places, they needed replacements for the other two. Harry grabbed his broom and jogged off down the corridors, looking forward to being able to fly again. But as he reached the bottom of the staircase that led to the entrance hall, he managed to trip up over an abandoned book. He tipped forward, his broom catching on a flagstone and propelling him into a somersault. He landed heavily, both feeling and hearing the broom give way with a loud, 'CRACK!'

His Firebolt. The broom his godfather has given him was broken. He had assumed the Malaclaw bite had worn off, and he hadn't bothered to take as much care with his broom as he should have. If only he hadn't acted so hastily, then it wouldn't have happened--just like last year; if he hadn't acted so hastily--so rashly--back then... He could feel his eyes beginning to burn in fury.

"Harry?" Oliver Wood's voice snapped him out of his lamentation for a moment, and he tentatively raised himself to a sitting position, feeling his back twinge where bruises would undoubtedly appear later. His former team mate was coming towards him, wincing on every other step, which Harry assumed was due to the Quidditch injury.

It had been almost two years since Harry had last seen him. Oliver had filled out slightly since then, but he still appeared to have baby soft skin. His face was now more chiselled, and muscles resulting from his Quidditch training were evident. At the sight of Oliver, Harry felt his breath suddenly hitch, his heart begin to pound, and his palms become clammy; he swallowed in horror as he acknowledged that he found himself attracted to the man before him. It just had to be the Malaclaw bite, he told himself. He'd never felt this way before, except towards Cho when he first realised that he liked her. But why would bad luck affect him so profoundly? He couldn't understand it, but it had to be; he couldn't think of any other explanation. He didn't want to think of any other explanation.

Oliver held out a strong hand in order to help Harry up, and Harry couldn't help noticing how pliant and warm Oliver's skin felt, and the firmness of Oliver's grip.

"Are you okay, Harry?"

"No. I've broken my broom," Harry spat out angrily, and Oliver instinctively took a step backwards. Realising that he was taking it out on Oliver, who didn't deserve the outburst, Harry took a deep breath and carried on in a more restrained tone. "If you're going down to the Quidditch pitch tell them I won't be coming today. With my bad luck it won't be safe, and I'm certainly not in any mood for Quidditch now."

"Okay, but I can't guarantee the others won't skin you alive at breakfast tomorrow."

"I really don't care at the moment."

Harry returned to the common room, carrying the broom that was now in two pieces and looking ready to kill the first person he encountered. Hermione looked up in surprise as he entered. He merely showed her the broom, announced, "I'm going to bed," and then continued up to the dormitory, throwing himself down on his bed in frustration.

He had no idea how long he lay there, going over events in his mind that weren't going to bring back his broom, or his godfather. At some point he drifted off to sleep, and he awoke the next morning still in the previous day's robes. His mood hadn't improved, as he had had a rather disturbing dream involving Oliver Wood. Harry only hoped that his first week back wasn't an indication of how things would be progressing for the rest of the year.

***