Harry Potter and the Return of the Heirs
By J.C. Vascardi
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Disclaimer: All characters and places featured in this story that relate to Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling, various publishers, and Warner Brothers. No money is being made on this story and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The only things about this story that I own are the storylines, places and characters that are not featured in the books.
Author's Note: This story takes place during Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts. I will be trying to follow the Order of the Phoenix canon as much as possible. I may however deviate from the canon occasionally if the story I am trying to tell would be better served by doing so. Even though this story takes place in Harry's sixth year, it is mostly AU because it was written before the release of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Now, I would also like to say that I'm an American, so while I will try to use some of the British terminology that I'm familiar with to make this story more real, there will likely be instances when the characters may sound a little more American then they would otherwise. For those of you who care about such things, I apologize in advance.
Feedback is very much appreciated. You may contact me by email at JCVascardi@yahoo.com or you can contact me at JCVascardi on Yahoo Messenger and AOL Instant Messenger. For updates on my writing progress, check out my writing journal at: http://www.greatestjournal.com/users/jcvascardi/. Also, feel free to check out my website at http://jcv.5u.com/all/jcstories/.
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Harry woke up the next morning to someone shaking him. He really didn't want to get up, but whoever the person was, they were insistent. Cracking his eyes open and giving them a chance to focus a little, he soon recognized the rather fuzzy image of Hermione, standing over him. When she noticed that Harry was finally waking up, she stopped shaking him and handed him his glasses.
Harry sat up and put them on, looking around sleepily before asking, "Why are you waking me so early?"
"Early? Harry, it's almost eleven o'clock in the morning," Hermione admonished. "Professor McGonagall will be here in about five minutes to help the sixth years with their schedules."
"Okay, I'll just take a shower and I'll come down."
"Honestly, Harry you don't have time," Hermione muttered as she pulled out her wand, pointed it at Harry, and cast a showering charm on him. "Now, get dressed and get down to the common room, right now!"
"Yes, sir, Madam Prefect," Harry said in a playful tone as he saluted his friend, and Hermione rolled her eyes before moving over to the next bed to wake up Ron.
Five minutes later, a rather tired looking Hermione herded the sixth-year boys down the staircase from their dormitory, just as the portrait swung open and Professor McGonagall entered the room, carrying a pile of blank schedules; she walked over and took a seat in an armchair by the fireplace.
"If you're not a sixth-year, please leave," McGonagall said, as she looked around the room. "Seventh-years please stay in the tower; I'll be dealing with your schedules when I finish with the sixth-year students." All of the seventh-year students headed up the stairs to their dormitories, while the students in other years grabbed their belongings, and headed for the portrait, leaving the common room.
"Please have your O.W.L results ready when I call your name," McGonagall said, as she took out her wand, pointed it at the bulletin board, and waved it, causing five pieces of paper to appear there. "Those are the sign-up sheets for the new extra-curricular activities, please sign up for those that you wish to take. I would suggest that everyone who qualifies, take Madame Pomfrey's activity, since I'm sure it will be extremely useful in the years ahead."
"Brown, Lavender," McGonagall called, and Lavender walked over to her and began to work on her schedule. A few minutes later, Lavender was scheduled for Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Fencing and Archery. She was upset about not being able to take Divination anymore, but Harry overhead her whispering to Parvati that she didn't mind as long as she was still in Firenze's class, as well as Professor Lasinius' class, because she found them both to be quite handsome.
"Finnegan, Seamus," McGonagall called, and as Seamus walked over to McGonagall, Lavender added her name to the sheets for Defense Arts, Arts, and Music. Seamus was soon scheduled for Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Archery, and Fencing, before adding his name to the sign-up sheets for Defense Arts and Unarmed Self-Defense.
"Granger, Hermione," McGonagall called, and Hermione was soon scheduled to take Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions, before putting her name down for Defense Arts and Basics of Battlefield Medicine.
"Longbottom, Neville," McGonagall called, and Neville went over to schedule his classes. It took a bit longer to sort out Neville's classes, and since it was only McGonagall and the sixth years in the common room, Harry had no problem overhearing Neville and McGonagall's conversation.
"Herbology, Archery, and Defense Against the Dark Arts is fine, Longbottom, but I can't accept you in my N.E.W.T class. I don't think you'd be able to handle the coursework with an `Acceptable' O.W.L. I've never gotten the impression that you enjoyed my class, so, why did you even want to take it?"
"My grandmother wanted me to," was Neville's muttered response.
"Oh, dear lord," McGonagall said. "It's high time your grandmother learned to be proud of the grandson she has, and not the one she thinks she should have – particularly after what happened in the Department of Mysteries. I see you have an `Exceeds Expectations' in Charms, why don't you take that?"
"My grandmother thinks it's a soft option."
"Take Charms," McGonagall said, "and I shall make sure to send an owl to Augusta reminding her that the subject isn't totally useless just because she failed her Charms O.W.L."
Neville walked away from McGonagall with his new schedule in hand and added his name to the Defense Arts, Art, and Unarmed Self-Defense activities. Harry couldn't help but notice the happy look on Neville's face, which he surmised was due to a combination of McGonagall's compliment and the knowledge that he had done better at something then his grandmother.
"Patil, Parvati," McGonagall called and Parvati was soon scheduled for the same classes and activities as her friend Lavender. McGonagall looked slightly disgusted as Parvati walked away and Harry figured it was probably because McGonagall had a feeling that Lavender and Parvati had only signed up for Archery and Fencing so that they could spend time gazing at the teachers, rather than an actual interest in the subjects.
"Potter, Harry," McGonagall called and Harry walked over to McGonagall.
"Let's see here, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Herbology all fine, Potter. I was very happy about your grade in my class, so you're clear to take that as well. Now, I've noticed that you haven't signed up for Potions, despite your `Outstanding.' I thought it was your ambition to be an Auror."
Ever since receiving his O.W.L. results over the summer, Harry had been thinking about whether or not to even take Snape's class, despite his `Outstanding' O.W.L. He eventually decided that while it would be nice to shock Snape by his presence in Potions class that he wouldn't take it. Of course, all of that changed when he found out that Bill would be teaching the class. If he could, Harry would drop Defense Against the Dark Arts just to avoid being in Snape's class, but he figured it wouldn't look good for him to not take the class. It was also one of his best subjects, so he was looking forward to putting Snape in his place by performing very well.
"It is Professor," Harry said, "and I'll take Potions now. The only reason I didn't sign up for it originally is because I didn't really want to be in Snape's class again."
"It's Professor Snape, Potter," McGonagall admonished.
"Sorry, Professor Snape," Harry said. "Of course, since I didn't plan on taking it, I didn't buy the book or supplies for the class."
"I'm sure Professor Weasley will have a book you can borrow and that he'll allow you to use the school ingredients until you can get your own. Now, did you want to take any of the new electives?"
"I'll take the Archery and Fencing classes," Harry answered.
"Okay, then," McGonagall said as she waved her wand over a blank schedule and handed it to Harry. "You're all done, so why don't you go sign up for some extra-curricular activities?"
Harry nodded and went over to the bulletin board to add his name to the lists for Defense Arts and Basics of Battlefield Medicine as McGonagall called out, "Thomas, Dean."
Dean was soon scheduled for Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Fencing. As McGonagall called out, "Weasley, Ronald," Dean added his name to the lists for Defense Arts and Unarmed Self-Defense.
A few moments later, Ron was scheduled to take the same classes and activities as Harry, except that he didn't sign up for Basics of Battlefield Medicine since he didn't have the required `Exceeds Expectations' in Herbology. "All right, sixth years you can go down to lunch now," McGonagall said. "Hermione, Ron, please go to the seventh-year dorms and tell them I'm ready for them, and then you can join your friends at lunch."
As Harry left the common room, he couldn't help chuckling when he heard Ron complaining about prefect duties getting in the way of eating lunch.
* * *
After lunch, Harry slipped away from Ron and Hermione, which was really quite easy since they were to wrapped up in a lip lock to notice what was going on around them, and went back up to his dormitory. The room was, thankfully, empty, so he went over to his trunk and removed his cloak and the Marauder's Map.
"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," Harry mumbled as he tapped his wand against the parchment.
Looking at the Map, Harry soon found what he was looking for: Bill was in his quarters in the staff wing, alone.
`Good,' Harry thought. `I think it's time I pay a little visit to my good friend Bill and see why he didn't bother telling me about his new job.'
Wrapping the cloak around him, Harry left GryffindorTower and made his way to the staff wing, making sure to check the Map at regular intervals to make sure that nobody was coming. Arriving at the door to Bill's quarters, Harry mumbled, `Mischief Managed', and placed the map in his pocket, before knocking on the door. The door opened after a moment to reveal Bill, who of course, didn't see anyone.
Harry snuck quietly past Bill and into the room while Bill walked a few steps out into the hallway to check if someone had knocked and run. Shrugging his shoulders, Bill came back into his room, closed the door and turned to his desk, his back to the bed.
"Hello," Harry said, causing Bill to jump about three feet as he whirled around to see Harry lying on his bed.
"Harry, you shouldn't be here," Bill admonished. "Students aren't allowed in the staff wing, unless invited by a professor."
"Do I really need an invitation?" Harry asked in a low, seductive voice, as he stood from Bill's bed, walked over, and began to caress the older red-head's cheek.
"Harry, stop that!"
"Why?" Harry asked in an innocent tone. "Aren't you enjoying it, Professor?"
"I am, but - what is it you just called me?"
"I called you `Professor'."
"Exactly, Harry. We can't be together like that anymore. It's against school rules for the professors to date the students."
"We don't date though, remember? Dating would imply that we're a couple, which we're not. We're just very good friends."
"Harry, you know what I mean," Bill said in an exasperated tone. "Now, please, stop that before I'm forced to give you detention."
"Detention? Oh, I like the sound of that."
"Okay, poor choice of words," Bill said when he realized that Harry was taking that threat opposite from his intention. "Harry, stop, or I'll be forced to take points."
"You'd actually take points from your own house?"
"If necessary, yes," Bill said. "Now, Harry James Potter, stop that this minute!"
Harry stopped, giving him an odd look before saying, "You're no fun, you know."
"I'm your Potions teacher; I'm not supposed to be fun."
"Why did you take this job, anyway?" Harry asked as he sat down on the edge of Bill's bed. "Better yet, why didn't you tell me that you took it?"
"I took the job because Dumbledore needed a Potions teacher, and I wanted a change of pace. As for why I didn't tell you, Dumbledore asked me not to tell anyone, so I didn't."
"You could have told me," Harry said. "I would have kept your secret."
"Dumbledore told me not to tell a single living soul," Bill clarified. "That, obviously, includes you, Harry."
"Okay, okay, I forgive you. Now, come over here."
"Harry, I meant what I said," Bill said. "We can't be together anymore. Teachers and students aren't allowed to be together like that."
"Okay, we don't have to have sex, but can I at least have a kiss?"
"Just one, Bill, that's all I'm asking for. Think of it as a sort of goodbye kiss, to formally end our sexual relationship and just be friends from now on. At least, outside of the classroom, I promise I'll act like a student in class, and not let on that there was ever anything more then that between us."
Bill looked around the room and then sighed, as he pulled out his wand and he cast locking and silencing charms on his door. Then, he walked over to the bed, sat down next to Harry, placed his hands on the sides of his face, and pulled their lips together in a passionate kiss. Their tongues wrestled each other for several minutes as they put everything they had into this one kiss, since it would be the last they would ever share.
When they finally parted, they both took a few moments to catch their breath, before Bill asked, "Happy now, Harry?"
"I'd be happier if you could fuck me one last time," Harry admitted, "but I'll be okay. Is there really a rule that says students can't date teachers?"
"Yes, there is," said Bill. "There is actually an addendum that says it's okay if the student in question is over seventeen, but you're not, Harry, so we can't be together anymore."
Harry thought for a moment and then a smile crossed his lips. Bill noticed right away and saw the mischievous glint in the younger man's eye. "What are you thinking, Harry?"
"I was just thinking that perhaps you and Nick should get together."
"Yes, Nicolas Delaney, you remember him, right? He's Professor Byrne's grandson, the transfer student from Beauxbatons."
"Harry, I just told you professors couldn't date students."
"Yes, but you also said that it was allowed if the student was seventeen, and Nick's seventeenth birthday is a week from tomorrow."
"Harry, I'm a professor! I can't come onto my students; it wouldn't be right!"
"Oh come on, Bill, I know you like him. I know you have a thing for younger men with black hair, which describes Nick to a`t'. True, he does have those blond streaks, but I don't think that's really a problem. His eyes are a lovely shade of blue, you know. Kind of like sapphires in the sun, and I heard it from his own lips that he's bisexual."
"If you like him so much, why don't you date him?"
"He isn't my type. Anyway, the two of you would be perfect together."
"Oh, Harry, what am I going to do with you?"
"Say you'll at least consider going out with Nick. I mean, obviously, I don't expect you to do anything now, while he's underage, but after the tenth..."
"Okay, okay, I'll consider it," Bill said finally, if only to shut Harry up. He knew that Harry meant well, and that he only wanted him to find happiness, which he appreciated. He also wasn't about to admit it aloud, but he would be lying if he said that he didn't find Nick Delaney attractive, because he did. He had been thinking about him ever since the first time he saw Nick in Diagon Alley a few days ago.
"Okay, Bill, you can't come onto your students, I understand that. What if Nick came onto you though; after his birthday that is? He already knows that you're gay."
"He what? How does he know that I'm gay?"
"Oh, well, um, I sort of told Ron, Hermione, Ryan, and Nick about us on the train."
"Its okay, Bill, really. They aren't going to tell anyone, I swear, and before you ask, they were all okay with it. It was actually kind of funny though. They all thought I should be dead by now for having slept with Fleur's supposed mate. Why haven't you made it clear to your family yet that you aren't her mate?"
"You know how much I hate talking about Fleur, Harry. You know what she did to me. It's not a subject I really want to discuss with my family."
"Well, you don't have to worry about Fleur. Obviously, she's left you pretty much alone since the tests said you weren't her mate, but she's found him now, so you don't have to worry anymore."
"How do you know that she's found her mate?"
"Nick told us, actually. He's a friend of her little sister, Gabrielle. Gabrielle told Nick in a letter, that Fleur was engaged to her mate now."
"Well, that is a relief at least; that is one wedding I wouldn't go to for all the galleons in Gringott's. If I never see Fleur Delacour again, it will be too soon."
"I hope you won't let the fact that Nick is friends with Gabrielle Delacour stop you from dating him, Bill. I really do think you'd be perfect together."
"A fact which you've made abundantly clear, Harry, and if you say that one more time, I'll be forced to deduct points from Gryffindor for annoying a teacher."
"Don't get as bad as Snape, Bill."
"Professor Snape, Harry, its Professor Snape."
"Whatever," Harry said as he stood to leave. "I'd better get going, before I'm missed. I'll see you in class tomorrow, Professor Weasley. Oh, by the way, I wasn't originally planning on taking Potions this year, so can I borrow a copy of Advanced Potion Making and use the school ingredients? At least until I can order some from Diagon Alley?"
"Of course, Harry. Now, as you said, you should get going before you're missed. I have to go to the library to check on something anyway, so you can sneak out ahead of me."
Harry smiled at Bill as he removed the charms from his door. Harry wrapped the cloak around him, and then snuck out of the room ahead of Bill.
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Draco's Journal – September 2, 1996
I'm glad to be back at Hogwarts, but at the same time, I'm not. As usual, as soon as we had some modicum of privacy, Pansy once again tried to seduce her way into my pants. I really don't understand how she can be so dense, because I've told her on more then one occasion that I'm not interested, but she just doesn't take a hint.
To be perfectly honest, I am a bit afraid because as things stand now, Blaise is my only true ally among my fellow sixth-year boys. I know for a fact that Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott have every intention of following in their fathers' footsteps and becoming Death Eaters, so I do worry about having to share a dorm room with them. I don't really know the transfer student, Delaney, well enough yet to determine where his loyalties lie. He seems nice though, and my cousin Ryan has made friends with him, so maybe he's okay.
I have made a new ally among the sixth-year girls at least, in the form of Tracey Davis. She's always been a good friend of Daphne's, and she assures me that I can trust Tracey. Daphne has also assured me that I can trust Adrian Pucey, the Head Boy this year; she has learned a lot about him because they have been dating now since the beginning of summer. I haven't really had the chance to talk to him and see for myself yet, but it's definitely something I'll do. I'm a Slytherin after all, so I understand the importance of having powerful and influential friends, and as Head Boy, Pucey does fit the bill.
Blaise and I have decided to officially end our relationship as lovers. Of course, we don't really have much choice, because it would be a bit hard to continue having sex now that we're back at school. True, it is possible to put a silencing charm on one's bed curtains and to make them imperturbable, but after talking about it, Blaise and I both agree that it's time our liaisons end. We both want to find love, after all.
As for how I'm coping with my mother's death, it's been very hard. I don't want my fellow Slytherins to see me cry, and I've been doing that a lot lately. I really do wish that there was some magical way to bring my mother back, but one of the first things that young witches and wizards are taught growing up: magic can do many things, but resurrecting the dead is not one of them. It is, of course, possible to raise the dead as mindless servants known as Inferi, but I obviously do not intend to do that to my mother.
Well, someone is coming, so I should stop writing now. The last thing I want is for anyone to be reading all of my personal thoughts.
* * *
After dinner, about an hour before curfew, Harry was aimlessly wandering the castle beneath his Invisibility Cloak, and avoiding the occupied areas with the use of the Marauder's Map. As he approached the bell tower, he discovered that he had failed to pay attention to what he was doing, because he heard the sounds of someone crying. Checking the Map, Harry's eyes almost bulged out of the sockets when he saw that the only person anywhere near, was the absolute, last person he'd ever thought he'd find crying - Draco Malfoy.
Of course, Harry could understand why he would be crying, but it was still a shock to actually hear it. If Harry weren't a Gryffindor, he'd probably have just walked away. As it was, he felt the need to try to comfort him. Granted, it was Malfoy and any offered help would likely be spurned. Tapping his wand against the Map, Harry mumbled, "Mischief Managed," and then tucked it into his pocket.
Removing his cloak, Harry draped it over his arm and quietly entered the tower. Looking around, he saw Malfoy curled up in a ball in a dark corner of the room, shaking and sobbing. Malfoy looked so pathetic at that moment, that even after all the years that he'd spent tormenting him and his friends, Harry didn't feel the slightest twinge of dislike for him.
Draco's head jerked up as Harry moved closer. His eyes narrowed a bit and he asked scathingly, "Potter? What are you doing here?"
"I was taking a walk, and I heard you crying."
"I was not crying!" Draco exclaimed.
"Oh really, you weren't? Then, why are your robes all wet?"
"Okay, fine, I was crying. I swear, Potter, if you tell anyone, I'll..."
"You'll what, Malfoy?" Harry asked when Draco trailed off. "Hex me into next week? You're welcome to try."
When Draco didn't say anything, Harry took a few steps closer, knelt beside him, and said gently, "I'm sorry about your mum."
"I don't want your bleeding sympathy!" Draco exclaimed, not used to anyone other than his mom, Blaise and Daphne being nice to him.
Harry didn't say anything. Instead, he merely stood up, and turned to leave. `I tried to be nice to him, but it's obvious he doesn't want my help, so what's the point trying any further?'
Harry was almost out the door when he heard Draco call after him quietly, "Harry, wait."
It was said so quietly that Harry wasn't even sure if he had heard it properly. He turned to face Draco and asked, "What did you say?"
"I said wait."
"Other then that," Harry murmured. "You called me Harry."
"No, I didn't," said Draco, a slightly hesitant voice, obviously trying to cover up the fact that he actually had said Harry instead of Potter.
"Yes, you did. I heard you."
"Well, so what if I did?" Draco drawled. "It is your name, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," answered Harry, and took a few steps closer and sat down on the floor across from Draco. "You've just never called me Harry before, so you caught me off guard."
Harry stared at Malfoy in total shock.
"What?" Draco asked angrily, Harry's expression unnerving him.
"Who are you, and what have you done with Malfoy?"
"I don't know what you're talking about Potter," Draco drawled.
"First you call me by my first name," Harry replied. "Then, you apologize to me. Forgive me, but I never thought I'd live to see either of those things happening."
"Well, what can I say?" Draco asked as he placed his arms on his bent knees and rested his chin on them. "Seeing my mother die has had quite an effect on me."
"For what it's worth," Harry said gently. "I really am sorry about your mum. I know how painful it is to see your mum murdered, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."
"How can you possibly remember seeing your mum die? You were only a year old, a baby in your crib for Merlin's sake."
"Yeah, that's true," confirmed Harry. "For a long time, I didn't remember. I vaguely remembered a flash of green light. I was never sure what it was. It wasn't until third year that I actually remembered it all."
"What do you mean?" Draco asked, and Harry could honestly say he'd never heard Draco use that tone of voice when talking to him before. There wasn't the slightest hint of venom, only curiosity.
"Remember how I always fainted whenever a Dementor came close to me?"
"Well, the reason was because I was reliving that night when I was one. I could see my mum standing in front of my crib, blocking Voldemort from getting a clear shot at me. She was pleading with him not to kill me, he just told her to move out of the way, and he'd let her live. She obviously didn't move, so Voldemort killed her. I'm sure you know the rest."
Draco was silent for a moment before he looked at Harry, his face stricken. "I'm so sorry, Harry, about making fun of you for fainting, and for dressing up as a Dementor to scare you. If I had known, I never would have done that."
"Its okay, Draco," Harry said, deciding that if Draco was going to use his first name, he might as well use his. "You had no way of knowing. At any rate, I do understand how you feel. Well, not entirely, since it was Voldemort that killed my mum, not my dad, but I still understand."
"He's not my father."
"Lucius," Draco spat. "He's not my father. I refuse to call him that. He's nothing to me, and if I ever see him again, I swear, I'll kill him for what he did... what he did..."
Draco didn't finish what he was saying. Burying his face in his hands, he started crying again, and after everything that just happened between them, Harry couldn't just sit there and watch him cry. Moving closer, he wrapped an arm around Draco's shoulder and pulled a bit so that Draco was crying on his shoulder, and gently rubbed his back.
* * *
To be continued...