Title: Written Fate
Warnings: Slash, violence, graphic
Summary: Hogwarts is never normal. The war approaches Harry Potter, and attacks plague the castle leaving a foreboding feeling in their wake. However, Harry soon finds he has his own saviour, helping him protect Hogwarts through a series of anonymous letters, while at the same time a growing attraction begins to occur within him for the most unlikely candidate.
Authors Note: I've been very excited to start a new story, as LMW and PA need a lot more inspiration. I'm hoping to get into the swing of writing by allowing myself to write new adventures rather than forcing myself to continue old ones. I will post a new chapter for each very soon, however, and I have three directions written for PA and at least four for LMW, I just can't bring them to perfection. I'll work hard on that, but for now—I bring you my latest obsession.
The story is during Harry's seventh year, but please disregard HBP. Also, I know Seamus is only a half-blood, but it worked out nice this way :)
Hope you guys enjoy!
Chapter One: Madesco
Rivets of water issued from Harry's wand, splashing onto the stone floor and flickering onto school uniforms in miniscule pecks. The water, which held a green tinge, spiraled toward Professor Flitwick, and the small man widened his eyes, before clapping excitedly.
"Very good, Mr. Potter!" He exclaimed, walking over to the scarred boy and clasping him on the shoulder (having to stand on his toes to do so).
Harry blushed, beads of water flowing down his glasses and dripping from his fringe. Shoving his wand back into his robes, he moved back to his seat awkwardly as Flitwick cleaned the classroom with a quick drying spell.
"Right then. Madesco—as Harry just demonstrated—is a spell of the water element, meaning it will only work so long as there is a presence of water." The professor walked over to the elaborate fountain on the far side of his classroom, and the class made little sounds of understanding as they realised the colour of the water matched Harry's spell.
"You're basically controlling the elements!" Flitwick grinned, but it soon turned into a thoughtful expression. "However, if there is a presence of a storm, using such a spell would require more energy than you young ones have, so I wouldn't suggest it. I'm sure Poppy wouldn't appreciate the waves of injured students in her care because of me." He chuckled, before nodding to his door, signaling the class was over.
The blush on Harry's face only grew as the Gryffindors in his class congratulated him on his awe-worthy display. He had learned the spell long ago in his private training with Remus, and had no problem with controlling such a fierce force, but the embarrassment of compliments from the entire student body was magnified compared to the approving nods from his instructor.
The Slytherins, however, chose to sneer at him and for once the Gryffindor was grateful. At least he could glare back, the tint of red on his cheeks withdrawing intensely at their sour expressions.
Of course, Draco Malfoy's sneer was the worst of all, his lip curling in a malicious way and his eyes narrowing, almost accusing.
Rolling his eyes, Harry turned his attention away from the door where the blonde had disappeared and looked back at Hermione and Ron, one who was greatly impressed and the other who was nodding in approval.
"You'd be able to do it too, Ron, had you read the chapter rather than stared at Greengrass all day." Hermione snapped, looking more angered than usual—as Ron hardly ever did his readings.
Ron immediately flushed, throwing his bag over shoulder and sending Hermione a wavering glare. "Oh yeah? I suspect you can do it, then?"
The bushy-haired girl narrowed her eyes, made a 'hmph' sound and turned toward the door, sticking close by Harry's side. "Anyway, Harry, that was really, very impressive. I'm sure you'll do extremely well on your Charms N.E.W.T."
Ron grumbled on Harry's other side, seemingly mocking the other girl, and Harry smiled wearily as they walked down the corridor.
"Don't expect to do better than Hermione, though, mate. She does do her readings, after all." He said mockingly, pushing open the doors to the Great Hall.
Harry let out a sigh, slipping onto the bench next to Dean Thomas and picked up a spoon as Hermione grew defensive to his comment. The emerald-eyed boy soon droned them out, turning to Dean and raising a brow.
The other boy barely looked up from his Sports Article, giving a small nod. Seamus smirked and flicked the darker boy's ear, watching with amusement as his head snapped up with a pained expression, before his fingers reached to soothe his ears.
"What was that for?"
Seamus took a large bite of his shepherd's pie before shrugging. "Time to get your nose out of that paper, I think."
"So you decide to flick my ear?" Dean made a face, pulling away from the Irish boy to look at Harry exasperatedly. "I've only been able to play with Finch-Fletchley so far—" Dean's eyes traveled to the Hufflepuff table, landing on Justin. "But he's not very coordinated unfortunately. And since the last time I played with Seamus, he summoned his broom and refused to run after the ball, I was wondering if you were interested in a game later."
Seamus leaned over, waving his fork. "Feetball is very boring, you know, Harry. The net isn't even in the air."
Dean smirked, rolling his eyes briefly, before letting out a startled wail. "FINNIGAN! You've got your food all over my article!"
The boy gave an impish grin, before using his robes to wipe it off. "Have I? I'm really sorry, it's just the pie is extra good today…"
Harry let out a laugh as the two continued to quarrel, "We can play after Transfiguration. I have a Herbology detention with Malfoy later today."
"Oh that's right," Seamus said, actually looking like he was honestly sympathising. "It's not like /you/ were the one throwing puss bulbs at the ferret."
Harry grimaced, remembering the smell of the bulbs soaking into his robes, and nodded. Of course, he had flung Hagrid's special fertilizer at the blonde, and that may have had something to do with the onslaught of remnants of their assignment.
The sound of forks clashing at their table and a sudden absence of buzzing made Harry realise Ron and Hermione were finished with their brawl. Letting his eyes reach them, he frowned slightly when he realised Hermione had actually left the table, the Great Hall doors closing behind her.
Ron looked sheepish, as he stubbornly poured orange juice from himself and turned away from Harry.
"Told her about the study date with Daphne?" Harry asked hesitantly.
The redhead raised a brow, "How did you know?"
Sighing, Harry shrugged, reaching over for the butter.
"I am very disappointed that I had to give you both detention… Again." Professor Sprout said wearily, her graying hair springing out from her usual bun.
Malfoy, feeling very much the victim, opened his mouth to disagree with his punishment for the hundredth time that evening. "Professor, really, he's the one that started it—I was only using a defense mechanism, you can't really blame me! He ruined an expensive pair of robes, you know." He said a bit desperately, eyes glancing at the murky mess twining in the flower bed.
Harry glared at the blonde, before shaking his head, "The puss ruined my robes, too, Malfoy. Though, I have to admit, not as badly—considering your aim was off and you missed me almost every time. Good thing you're not a chaser, isn't it?"
Sprout glared at the both of them sternly, holding her hand out for their wands. "I don't want to return and find you both in a bloody heap in the Lotus spurs."
The Slytherin, still glowering at Harry, placed his wand in the wrinkled palm and let out a suffering sigh. "She favours Gryffindors, it's obvious. Snape would have surely taken off points for that comment."
Harry rolled his eyes, walking toward the bed with the Slytherin, pulling on his gloves. "Snape would take points off for me doing too good on an assignment, Malfoy."
The blonde perked, smiling wickedly. "He would, wouldn't he? In that case, I should help you study—then again, I'm sure you're a lost cause. We'll have to find a different way to win the cup this year. Which, we will." He said confidently, going for the same muddy weed Harry was, and pulling it out first, just to spite him.
Harry irately pulled out a smaller one harshly, hoping to fleck mud onto the smug blonde. "By Quidditch? Your chasing skills are better than your seeking ones; maybe you should switch after all."
Looking completely foolish with the bright yellow, plastic gloves and holding a slimy green bundle of weeds, Draco put on his best sinister look. "Why don't you become the chaser, Potter? You'll obviously be a natural, and you do take every chance you get to show off, don't you?"
Picking up the pale of filthy water at his side, Draco flung its contents at Harry in a spout of rage. "Madesco!"
"Augh! Malfoy, you prick!"
The blonde laughed heartily, teetering on his balance, held up by his knees, and falling to the floor in a more comfortable position. The pale rolled down the greenhouse floor, landing at Sprout's foot as she walked back into the classroom just in time to see Harry lunge at Draco, the slender boy letting out an indignant squeal as the foggy water dripped off Harry onto him.
"Well, I was wrong about the spurs." Sprout said in a resigned sort of way, though tapped her foot to get their attention as both boys looked toward her suddenly as a unified tangle of limbs on the floor.
Dean caught up with the boy as they were walking out of the Transfiguration classroom, Seamus trudging alongside him carrying an odd package from home.
The Gryffindor looked apologetically at the two, shifting his bag on his shoulders. "I can't, I've got detention all week with Sprout."
Both of them looked mildly confused, before Seamus finally piped up. "But… Harry… we haven't even had Herbology yet."
The seeker made a face, tossing his bag to them and pulling out a worn jumper. There was no way he was going to get his robes dirty again—he didn't have as many to spare as the pointy-faced Slytherin.
"I know. Take this back for me, will you? I've got to get going."
Dean nodded, letting out a sigh and looking toward Seamus suspiciously. "What's in the package."
The Irish boy smirked, unwrapping the lumpy package and revealing a football. "It's charmed—to fly!"
Dean smiled warily, before nodding. "Right then… let's play…"
"Shut-up, Malfoy." Harry said darkly, working on filing the disarray of paper before him.
"I can't help it," the other boy snickered, lounging lazily on the chair attached to his desk, completely ignoring the pile of folders before him. "Where did you get it anyway? I thought you would know not to shop anywhere Hagrid referred."
Flushing to match the plum coloured jumper covering his chest, the threads loose and torn in a number of places, Harry shoved a file into the cabinet. "I figured we'd be doing more hands-on work. I wasn't expecting Sprout to have us do archiving."
Draco let out another howl of laughter, dressed of course in his best robes and Harry only sent him a resentful look.
As filing didn't allow much to be thrown, the majority of their work—or lounging, in Draco's case—took place in silence. It was almost suspicious, and Sprout, feeling she could finally leave to the Greenhouse to do her nightly watering, stood up from her desk.
"I'll be right back. Don't think I won't hear you fighting if you start."
Neither noticed the Lotus spurs had been moved to a different greenhouse.
The silence that ensued after Sprout's departure was thick, and Draco finally groaned. "There's way too much of this, I hope she's not expecting me to finish—"
A sudden tapping noise caused him to stop short, staring suspiciously at Harry but realising he only looked as startled as the other. Reaching for his wand, Draco let out a sudden foreboding exhale, remembering Sprout's wrinkled palm taking hold of it hours ago.
Slipping off his chair, Harry held his finger to his lips, and moved toward the window where a looming figure seemed to be.
"It's probably just a … tree or something."
Draco looked at Harry disbelievingly. "If you hadn't noticed, Potter, all the trees are inside the greenhouse."
Harry realised that was true, but shook off the statement anyhow. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he pulled the window open, stumbling back in surprise as an owl flew toward him viciously, swooping over his head and gliding toward his desk.
Then, the huge brown animal dropped a small envelop from its clutches, before pecking Harry, annoyed, and leaving the greenhouse in peace once more.
"What in Merlin's name…" Draco began, pushing out his chair and walking over toward Harry. There was an unreadable expression on his face as he tried to peer at the scrawled name. "Does Potter have a secret admirer?"
Harry blushed, shoving the letter in pocket, regretting leaving his bag with Seamus, and glared at Draco. "I applied for some international Quidditch teams, actually. I'm sure they're just replying."
Draco smirked, finally picking up one of the files, but staying strangely silent. Harry glanced at him, in disappointment or relief at his silence, he wasn't sure.
Ron stumbled back into the dormitory soon after Harry, who had immediately thrown off his jumper. Now sitting in his four-poster, his eyes trained on a Quidditch book, he only glanced at his friend in greeting, before continuing his read.
"How was it?"
The redhead frowned, untying his shoes and tossing a burgundy, closed, inkwell on his bed. "We… actually studied." He said, looking unsure. "In fact, we studied with colour coded notes."
Harry grinned, placing his book on his nightstand and standing up. "She does have the highest average in all of Slytherin, and possibly takes as many classes as Hermione."
"I know, but…" Ron gave Harry an incredulous look. "We actually studied."
Harry, feeling a bit bad for his friend getting stuck in such a situation, couldn't help but jab him a bit more. "Do you think she resembles anyone you know, Ron?"
The redhead raised a brow, pulling off his own jumper. "I don't really know, but for some reason she seemed strangely familiar."
Shaking his head, Harry quickly burned out the candles, enveloping the dorm in darkness.
Pulling on his robes the next morning, Harry had found the letter he received on the floor and frowned as he realised he had forgotten all about it. Picking it up, he shoved it in his robes, expecting it to be a reply from Quidditch teams just as he suspected, and figured Ron would want to hear about it as well.
When he reached the Common Room, Hermione was in an oddly good mood, sitting on one of the armchairs with her books sprawled in front of her. "What's up?" He said, raising a brow as he sat opposite to her on the floor, crossing his legs.
"Oh, nothing," she smiled, crossing a 't' in a manner that was much too enthusiastic, even for Hermione.
When Ron finally joined them, Hermione sent him an empathizing look. "Sorry again about your date, Ron." She said, and Harry thought he had an idea about what she was particularly happy about that morning.
Sending both his friends a look, he placed his letter out in front of him. "I think this is from the Harpies. Though, the seal is unidentifiable."
Ron immediately brightened, peering at excitedly, before frowning. "You haven't even opened it."
Harry shrugged, finding he wasn't as excited as he thought he would be. "I already know I won't be a Quidditch player after Hogwarts, I'm still clueless to why Lupin convinced me to send these out."
Hermione, finally becoming something akin to her normal self, sent Harry a soft look, gripping his arm gently before nodding toward the letter. "You don't know that, Harry. Lupin wouldn't have made you send them out if that were the case."
The seeker stared at the letter for a moment, before feeling a twinge of enthusiasm in his chest, followed by an assault of nerves. "I can't. Ron, you open it."
Ron stared at the letter with wide eyes, before shaking his head. "What? No! I can't open it; I'm bad luck you know."
"I don't want to be the first to read it!" Harry countered, looking back at the letter in a way that suggested if he had a long stick to poke it with, he would've.
"I'm not even that good at reading, Harry, what if I mess up the words—"
"Honestly!" Hermione said finally, snatching the letter off her Astronomy text and tearing it open in an almost anticlimactic way.
Harry and Ron sent each other looks, before both protested. "I was just about to do it you know—" "—It was my letter, I should've been the one to open it—"
But the look on Hermione's face suggested something was extremely wrong, and she glanced at Harry a big worriedly. "I don't think this is from the Harpies, Harry…" She trailed off, leaving Ron and Harry at a loss for words, before she began to read it out.
Stay close to your friends during the Halloween Feast, lest something happens.'
Ron, expecting more, turned to Hermione with a frown, but she seemed to be concentrating on the small paragraph intently.
Harry, himself, seemed puzzled and decided to prompt her. "Hermione? Do you have any idea who sent this?"
The witch shook her head slowly, folding the letter back up before lighting it on fire. "I suspected Snape at first—it's unsigned so it's safe to send over even if it were to be intruded."
The ashes fell to the floor. "But I say we can't trust it. Snape could have easily told Dumbledore rather than yourself, and he could have taken care of the situation much better than you can."
Ron nodded slowly, before stating the obvious as he often did. "But it's a warning; surely they don't mean harm for Harry."
Harry seemed to catch onto Hermione, looking at Ron with an unreadable expression.
"Or maybe, it's a threat."