Harry Potter, Chaos Queen

 

Chapter Two

 

Harry woke and went about his morning ablutions with a grumpy disposition. Brushing his teeth, and combing his hair, securing it back again with his enchanted hair tie, he dressed in his uniform before all the other boys woke. Heading down to the Great Hall, he barely managed to keep himself on the staircase as one of them moved from beneath his feet. So lost in thought, he barely stepped back in time, grumbling and cursing his luck, he appeared at Gryffindor table with rumbled robes and dark circles beneath his eyes. 

 

Glancing at Severus, and unable to wait for his Head of House to deliver his timetable, he pressed against his Professor's mind once more. Immediately he was granted entry, and Harry could feel his curiosity at the urgency he presented, the worry he directed at Harry's appearance. 

'When do I have your class, and when can we meet?' Harry thought, falling easily into vapid pools of black, the eyes of one Severus Snape. 

 

'I do not have Seventh Year Gryffindors till tomorrow in Potions, Harry. Luckily it's Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff today, which are less prone to blowing up my dungeons due to house rivalry.' His snark soothed Harry's frazzled nerves, but Harry whimpered at the knowledge that it'd be so long to see his trusted advisor and friend. 'However, I suppose we can meet tonight if you are careful. Wouldn't want to make it too obvious to the Gryffindors that you're sneaking out so early in the term.'

 

Harry hurriedly agreed upon a time before slipping back out of Severus' mind. The Gryffindor Golden Boy watched students casually mill into the Great Hall and make their way to their House tables, sleepily pushing breakfast onto the golden plates waiting for the various students. 

Noting Draco was early as well in the scarcely inhabited hall, Harry bit his lip. Somehow, he felt it unfair that the Slytherin Prince had known before he had. Feeling petulant, the Golden Boy stabbed viciously at his porridge with his spoon. Stupid Malfoy, stupid ponce with his false claims and bravado. Stupid him for saying he knew Lokii, and finding out something before Harry. Stupid, stupid, stupid Ferret. 

 

Sighing, Harry took off his glasses and scrubbed the heels of his palms over his face and eyes, trying to wake himself up. He'd known he was going to have a gig in Hogsmeade, just outside Madame Rosmerta's Three Broomsticks. He'd seen the details of the stage, and currently the band would be getting ready. It was set to go off just a week into the school year, but Harry doubted many of his friends would be there, as usually it was several weeks into term before Hogsmeade visits began. 

 

This weekend Harry was set to play and hopefully performing would calm his nerves. There was something about singing, the magic he cast, that drove back his fears and pain. He'd be practicing this Friday, just before the gig on Saturday. Harry painfully noted it was Wednesday, two days away from practice with his band. Why was time so cruel?

 

He was just considering banging his head against the table when a shadow fell across his bowl. Looking up tiredly, he noticed Malfoy had approached the Gryffindor table and now stood smirking before him. Heaving a deep sigh, and sucking back a groan, Harry managed to grumble out, "Can I help you, Malfoy? Or do you enjoy annoying people first thing in the morning?" For once, the animosity was heartfelt and not a mask, he noted. He really didn't feel like being bothered.

Malfoy merely smirked and tugged on his cuffs, making sure that his school uniform was as impeccable as always. He seemed to ignore Harry's taunt and instead loomed over the Gryffindor. With his superior height, and the fact that he was standing while Harry remained seated, this was hardly difficult. 

 

"Actually," the Slytherin began, "I only wanted to share my good news with you, Scarhead. Did you know Lokii will be preforming in Hogsmeade this weekend?" 

 

Harry shrugged, letting his shoulders rise and fall carelessly. "I had heard something about it, so?" He didn't deny he knew, it was publicized so it'd be more suspicious to sound confused. 

"Well, I'll have you know I'm meeting her this weekend. I plan on getting a photo taken. That ought to prove to you and the Weasel that I know her," Draco sounded confident again, and Harry resisted the urge to throttle him. Why did he have to be so bloody annoying? Couldn't he just grow up and leave Harry be?

 

 

Harry snorted, shaking his head. His bangs fell across his eyes, nearly into his glasses with the movement. "Honestly, Malfoy, I don't care. Plus, I really doubt you'll get to meet her. We're not allowed to visit Hogsmeade for another few weeks, if you recall? So nice try."

 

Draco growled, grey eyes flashing with Harry's words. You could almost read his thoughts as they moved around in his head, likely something similar to 'how dear he!' Gritting his teeth and trying to regain his calm, the Pureblood Prince smoothed his hands down his robes. "Actually, I have express permission, I plan on meeting the Lovely Lokii this Saturday. It's... important that I see her." He smirked, feeling that he had finally managed to pull one over Harry Potter.

 

Harry fought to keep the small bit of porridge and toast he'd eaten inside his stomach. His first full day back, and he was already in hell. "I doubt it," He whispered with less certainty. "Until you show me that photo, I won't believe it." He couldn't believe it, just couldn't. 

 

"If you don't mind, Mr. Malfoy," came a voice behind them, which quickly revealed itself to be Professor McGonagall, Harry's Head of House. Pushing her glasses up her stern face, the cat animagus offered Harry his schedule with a slim long-fingered hand. "Mr. Potter needs his schedule and I have something to discuss with him. Please make your way back to the Slytherin table and I'm sure Professor Snape will manage to procure your class timetable as well."

Draco glared at Harry, biting back his response and stalking off back to his seat. Harry was grateful till McGonagall cleared her throat behind him. "Mr. Potter, I am here to also inform you that you'll be resuming your Remedial Potions lessons with Professor Snape every Tuesday and Thursday. As well as meeting Headmaster Dumbledore as soon as you finish your breakfast. I hope you enjoyed your holiday, the password is Gum Drop."

 

Harry accepted his class schedule meekly, nodding at his Professor as she walked around the table, skirts bustling in her wake. A meeting with Dumbledore already? Well, at least he'd have his classes with Snape to look forward to. 

 

The raven-haired boy noted his two friends, the other two thirds of the Golden Trio making their way to the table and bickering all the while. "Oi, guys! Sorry to bail, but I have to see Dumbledore before class. I'll see you in this afternoon's Transfiguration class, yeah?"

 

The two made their responses as he excused himself and made his way up to the Headmaster's office. As he clearly stated 'Gum Drop', and the Gargoyle leapt aside, revealing the revolving staircase, Harry strengthened his Occlumency shields. He was tired, and didn't want a crack to break through. Building the walls was easy, and Harry always felt safer around the Headmaster. Few knew that Dumbledore was an accomplished Occlumens and Legimens, nearly as powerful in mind magic as the Dark Lord. Why he hadn't trained Harry personally was beyond him, but Harry was secretly glad for the time with Severus. Calling forth memories that he'd plant beyond his shield, Harry prepared himself with a few deep breaths. It'd look odd if he had a blank, unpentrateable slate for Dumbledore to find. After all, Harry was not supposed to be good at Occlumency. Sucking in a deep breath, and blowing it out sharply through his teeth, the Gryffindor Savoir knocked. 

 

"Come in, Harry," came Albus Dumbledore's wizened old voice, sounding amused beyond the wood. Harry pushed it open and made his way into the room full of whizzing objects, swirling oddities and strange mechanisms that he was sure couldn't possibly be worth use. Likely, they were staged to make the old man look powerful and unusual. 

 

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry called nervously, adopting his naive and submissive persona with ease. Dumbledore expected a tool to be molded, a martyr he could build upon, that he was certain of, and Harry played into it. 

 

"Ah yes, Harry. There you are, my boy," Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled with merriment above his long white beard. He wore robes of bright periwinkle today, garishly covered in sparkling suns and moons that twirled when you looked long enough. "I was hoping we could talk before the start of term, dear boy."

 

Harry, fully in his mask, tilted his head with worry. "Ah... what about, sir? Did I do something wrong? Is it Voldemort?" He lowered his voice to a softer level, sounding nervous. 

"No, no, my boy. Nothing of the sort. This year I find myself wondering if I should have told you things earlier, but I hadn't found you ready. Now, in your seventh year, I think we should train you," Dumbledore began, nodding his head to appear wise and intelligent beyond years. 

Harry felt a prodding on his conscious mind and barely resisted the urge to push Dumbledore out. Damn him, he thought, Poking his nose in my fucking head. What kind of sick freak is he? Safe behind his shields, Harry seethed, but the mask remained calm and unaware as the Headmaster rifled through his student's brain. Pushing at memories, tasting the emotions, sampling his beloved tool. Harry inwardly felt sick, and slightly violated, but bared with it.

 

"Sir?" Mask Harry asked, looking boyish and confused. "Train me? You mean like... the DA or something?" Harry stumbled, referencing the pathetic study group Harry had put together in Fifth year with the help of Hermione. The memories it brought back were painful, especially Sirius falling through the Veil. Hating himself for having to, Harry pushed the memories of Sirius and the pain to the front of his shields. Dumbledore latched onto them quickly and pressed against the painful thoughts, grimy hands all over the reels of happy moments, the horror of Sirius falling. His regret, his weakness. Again, Harry swallowed down bile, hating Dumbledore at that moment. A compelling charm pushed just beyond his shields, urging him to 'Trust Albus Dumbledore, no matter what', and to 'Grieve for his dead Godfather, and want to join him. To push away his friends, and distance himself', the magic prodded. 

 

 

Harry seethed, green eyes sparking with fury and vengeance, allowing it to lay across his mind, just beyond his consciousness. He wanted to rip it from his mind, destroy the tendril that threatened to corrupt his personality and drop him into despair, but he'd have to wait. For now, he allowed the old wizard to think it'd worked. 

 

"No, my dear boy, nothing like that. Though I was thinking you ought to train in magic with Severus this year," Dumbledore began, trailing off for Harry's expected protest.

 

Not wanting to disappoint, Harry staged the outburst. "What?! With Snape? Are you kidding me? We'll kill each other, it'll never work. Sorry, Professor, but I don't think it'll come to pass without bloodshed."

 

Dumbledore nodded, eyes twinkling merrily behind his spectacles. He'd expected Harry's fury, and received it. The old coot appeared happy with himself, things going according to plan. With a chuckle, Dumbledore began, "Professor Snape, Harry. And it will work. It has to. Have a little faith in the man, I trust him with my life. Surely you can trust me, can't you?"

 

Harry wanted to scream, wanted to shoot sparks at Dumbledore and righteously say, 'No! I don't trust you at all! Stay out of my head, you bastard!', but the words died beyond the safety of his Occlumency. "I guess," Mask Harry grumbled, ever the petulant, angsty teen. "But if he tries to kill me, don't say I didn't warn you. Greasy git." 

 

Dumbledore appeared overjoyed by Harry's terrible mood and nodded, pretending not to have heard his protests again. Pressing his long, wrinkled fingers into a steeple, he twinkled at Harry, "Good, good. Then on Wednesdays and Fridays I expect you two to work hard on your training."

 

"But I already see him twice a week for Occlumency lessons, not that they work, and now you're going to make it four times?!" Harry shouted, appearing shocked and outraged. 

 

"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore began, light reflecting off his half-moon spectacles and hiding his reaction. "Bear with this for a little longer. It's important that you two work together, for the future of the Wizarding World. I'm sure you'll survive."

 

Harry dutifully grumbled, ignoring Dumbledore's adieu, and stormed from the office in a sulk. Dropping his mask, Harry panted against the stone walls of the castle, sucking in the cool air and pressing his heated forehead to stone. Damn him, Harry thought. That man made Harry sick, and the sulk was hardly faked. The reasons were simply wrong. In truth, seeing Severus four times a week was a blessing, a reprieve to his shocked system. But the disgust he'd felt, the violation and the magic Dumbledore had tried to plant in his mind like a seedling. With an irritable growl, Harry lashed his magic at it, allowing his own core to swallow Dumbledore's Compel and destroy the poison it offered. Harmlessly, his own magic ate the Headmasters, reworking it till it became one with him, broken of it's task. 

 

Silently, Harry wished for Severus, the cool silence of the dungeons, and the solitude of Severus' private rooms. Dragging his feet through classes, barely able to keep his mask of camaraderie in place in front of Hermione and Ron, Harry was grateful when the day ended and he finished dinner in the Great Hall. Classes hadn't offered him anything he didn't know already, or hadn't learned with Severus, and Harry found himself restraining from using the spells in his extensive repitoire. Trying to make it seem like these were new, and he truly struggled with the grasp on the various Charms and Spells offered in his Seventh year. Truly, it had been a taxing day, and it was just his first try, his return to Hogwarts. 

 

Therefore when he was allowed to return to the dorm room, and after a game of exploding snap and far too much chit chat, Harry was excited when the boys finally all shuffled up the stairs and into their dorm beds. Waiting with held breath, his heart beating a rapid tattoo in his chest, Harry listened to the others drop off into dreamland. Finally, when all the snores had evened out, Harry snuck from behind his curtains, donned his Invisibility Cloak and crept out the portrait hole. Making his way down to the dungeons, Harry shivered, but eagerly walked faster. Finally, he'd be with Severus. The Marauder's Map held tightly in his grasp, warning him when Mrs. Norris or Filch happened his way, Harry finally reached the portrait guarding Severus' private room. Whispering, "Domus Serpens," he watched the painting swing aside and allow him entry.

 

Severus looked up cautiously when the portrait opened, but relaxed his grip on his wand when he realized that no one was there. Or rather, someone invisible now crept into his private room. Harry through back the cloak and stumbled onto the couch by the fire, tipping his head back with a groan of dismay.

 

The dark eyed spy couldn't resist the smirk tugging at his lips, as he watched the beautiful creature in silk pajamas fall onto his couch with an air of informality. "Oh come now, spending time with me four times a week can't be that bad," Severus teased, his deep drawl amused. 

 

Harry cracked open a green eye, peeking beneath his lashes at the Potions' and Defense Master. "Actually, I welcome time with you, even if you are a snarky git," Severus chuckled, and Harry's lips twitched. "Actually, it's just been exhausting. What with finding out I'll be performing at Hogwarts, Malfoy taunting me that he'll be there on Saturday, and the Headmaster trying to grime up the inside of my mind? I'm peachy. Just bloody peachy."

 

Severus quirked one eyebrow at Harry, looking down his broken nose with amusement. "Draco said what now? How fascinating. What teenagers come up with these days, it's beyond me."

Harry nodded but gasped when he heard a knock on the portrait hole, cutting off his next reply. Severus made a quick motion, and Harry ducked beneath his Cloak once more. Hiding in the shadows by the fireplace, he watched Severus stalk to the portrait entrance and jerk it open to reveal a still-dressed Draco Malfoy. 

 

"Ah, it's you, Draco" Severus muttered, motioning the pale haired boy inside and closing the portrait once more.

 

Draco's eyebrows rose and he shook his head, "Hello to you as well, Godfather. I'm afraid I have something important to discuss, and I know how you hate beating around the bush."

 

The blonde made his way to the couch and plopped down, crossing his long legs elegantly and waiting for Severus to join him. Instead, Severus paced to the mantle, taking a drink from the tumbler of firewhiskey he'd poured for himself to help relax. "Well then, Draco. Do get on with it," The Head of Slytherin motioned impatiently with a potion's stained hand. 

 

"I'm here," Draco huffed, barely avoiding pouting at his Godfather's lack of enthusiasm. "Because the Dark Lord has given me a mission. A mission that only you can help me with, Uncle." Draco adopted the title he'd used when he was little, hoping Severus would realize the seriousness of the situation.

 

Harry barely resisted gasping in shock. The Dark Lord? Was Draco really marked? What was all this about, and what was the mission?

 

Severus' coal eyes narrowed, and his mouth thinned at the seriousness of Draco's request. "How can I help you, Draco? I'm afraid unless I know your mission, I'll be of little use to you," His voice a cold drawl, Harry recognized the fear the man refused to show. His godson was falling in his father's footsteps, despite his attempts otherwise. 

 

"I need to see Lokii, Uncle. The Dark Lord has heard about her power as a songstress. And although you remain her manager, the Dark Lord thinks that I have a chance at seducing her. Did you know she's only seventeen? She's my age. Please, Uncle Sev, I know she doesn't meet with anyone, but you're my only hope." Draco swallowed, grey eyes turned pleading.

 

Severus scowled, and Harry noticed a faint tick in his forehead. "Let me guess... you are to seduce her, then introduce her to the wonders of Dark Magic. And finally, bring her before the Dark Lord. She'd then be marked, and used for her ability to further the cause."

 

Draco nodded, and sucked in a breath before continuing. "Yes, actually. You're my only hope, Uncle. I don't want to fail the Dark Lord, I don't know what he'll do to me and my family. Please, Sev, I have to meet her this Saturday. I just have to..." 

 

Severus flicked his eyes toward the spot where Harry stood, hidden beneath his cloak. Glancing back at Draco, he gave a terse nod. Harry's world slowed down. Pity, despair, anger, and fear gripped him tightly as he watched the two Slytherins. Biting his lip hard enough he drew blood, the tangy iron taste bursting in his mouth, Harry fought back nausea as he listened to the next words. 

 

"I'll help you meet Lokii, Draco. But on one condition..." Severus began, as Harry's heart cried out in pain.