http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3056651/1/Unspeakable_Darkness
http://www.fanfiction.net/u/595898/Phoenix_Boy
Summary: Sent back in time after the effects of the failed Cruciatus interact with his home's wards, Harry is taken in by the Unspeakables and sent to keep the Slytherins on the side of the light.
Charter 1
I can be a magpie, a thief raiding the homes of the wealthy; a voyeur, a fly-on-the-wall in their most private moments. I am a hunter, ruthless, merciless, my power unlimited, the world as my prey.
I am a shadow, passing unseen and unknown, a figment of the imagination, a reflection of a hero, dark and strong.
My name is unknown by even the few who know me. When I am mentioned, they shudder with fear. I am an assassin, I can kill without reason, without guilt, without sorrow.
I am the product of their fears and insecurities, a creation of their petty plottings and schemes. I was born to be famous, deadly and terrible, and my presence is death.
They have named me, the sore on the purity of humanity, and none who have met me survived.
I am the Unspeakable, flee while you can.
Charter 2
It was towards the end of the summer holidays and yet the Great Hall at Hogwarts was still full to bursting after the evening meal, lit by the hundreds of flickering candles suspended in mid-air. Adults spread out among the tables nursing steaming tankards of firewhisky and other still more powerful concoctions, little jets of smoke shooting up towards the enchanted ceiling from all over the room.
It had been over two years now since Lord Voldemort had returned in all his glory after the Triwizard Tournament and the school itself had become a haven and a base for both the adults and children of the Light during the skirmishes of the past year. Thankfully, there had been fewer casualties than had been feared: it seemed the Dark Lord had been testing their strength while he built up his own forces. An all-out offensive was yet to begin and preparations were underway to meet it when it came.
Indeed, the Order of the Phoenix was currently in residence in the school, although most would return to safe houses and other, more secret places at the beginning of the term, where there would be no concerns about youthful spies.
Among the newest members were Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, now about to enter their seventh year at Hogwarts as Head Girl and senior prefect respectively. Both had earned their place and were, compared to many years older, seasoned veterans. Severus Snape, however, still regarded them as children not yet fully exposed to the horrors of war. There was little short of true combat that could prepare you fully and no member of the order was quite willing to contemplate putting people in the front line before they were out of school. The place beside the pair had been empty for a year now for Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was missing, presumed by many to be dead.
Severus Snape sighed, contemplating his thick nettle soup solemnly. He had never admittedly been fond of the boy, easily irritated by his reckless attitude. Gryffindor bravery only counted so far before it became outright stupidity. The previous summer, while supposedly safe at the home of his Muggle relatives, Harry Potter had vanished without trace. He himself was almost certain the boy was at least alive, Albus Dumbledore having confided in him that a confidential message had arrived from the Department of Mysteries a few days after the disappearance. If the Unspeakables were involved, he would not be seen again until they judged him ready and needed but return he would and that alone was enough to give him hope that the war would someday end.
His own position as a spy was hazardous to say the least. Recent intelligence had given rise to suspicions about Dark Lord's trust in him. Should that be the case, his task would be at an end and he would be at liberty to follow his own conscience and return to the Unspeakables who had given him a purpose after his grandfather's death. That was, if the Dark Lord hadn't tortured him to death first.
To say he was startled when the hall fell silent would have been an understatement. Since most members of the Order were Gryffindors, the other houses being more cautious about declaring their loyalties, mealtimes tended to be loud and boisterous, only announcements from Albus Dumbledore quieting down the savage hordes.
Severus looked up to see a slender figure framed perfectly in the center of the double doors at the far end of the hall. The person was of average height - tall for a woman, quite short for a man - and was heavily cloaked in a swathe of heavy dark fabric that shimmered in the candlelight. He squinted at it, hoping to confirm a suspicion. Yes, demiguise hair was the only fabric known with that effect. Rarely seen outside the manufacture of the highly prized invisibility cloaks, the Unspeakables favoured it in concealing their identities since it concealed the person within completely in shadows but obscured none of their vision. Held securely to their chest was an intricately carved wooden chest, the features of which he could not yet make out.
Slowly, once their attention had been obtained, the Unspeakable in the doorway slowly began to make their way up the central aisle to the head table where Severus was sitting with an air of subtle drama that made him almost certain that it was a former Slytherin. After placing the box carefully in front of the headmaster in the center of the table - it was hardly politic to do otherwise given the current state of near martial law - the person stepped backwards slightly and bowed deeply to him, which Albus acknowledged gravely by inclining his head.
They paused for a moment then turned towards him. He was standing before he knew it, grasping the outstretched hand over the table - this was neither the time nor the place for a tear-jerking show of emotion. The hand was small and cool in his: Artemis then. A mission like this, approaching him like this: it couldn’t be anyone else.
A moment.
She stepped back, inclined her head to the others at the table and swept from the hall, pausing for a moment in the doorway to glance back inside. Yes, Artemis was perhaps the only Unspeakable who would allow herself the luxury of an emotional pause like that. As the doors closed behind her, the Order members inside burst out in riotous discussion.
Towards the centre of the table, some of the other senior order members were attempting to open the chest, apparently without much luck. Interfering busybodies! Dumbledore himself was sitting back enjoying his wine, so there was clearly no reason for them to be getting involved immediately.
That said, he took a distinct amount of pleasure in stalking around the table - thus avoiding having elbow Moody out of the way - and placing his palm carefully over the spider’s web intricately carved in the lid. There was a quiet click and the top swung open, revealing a number of small, identically bound books stacked carefully inside.
As the others stared at the box, not quite daring to touch the contents after their difficulties in opening it, Minerva McGonagall’s eyes were on him.
“Does that mean they’re coming home?” she asked quietly, searching his face.
“That would appear to be the case.”
She smiled; he didn’t permit himself to.
“It’s about time,” she said shortly, though it was clear she was pleased.
Carefully, he shut the box again and cradled it to his chest as he made his way towards the side door through which he could cut down to his quarters. As he left, one particularly loud voice rose above the others.
“Who was that? He knew ISnape/I! I thought the Unspeakbles were on our side.”
He paused, listening with morbid curiosity. It was no secret what most of the Order thought about him.
"A senior Unspeakble," McGonagall replied calmly. "Given when we last worked with them and that they got through the wards without disturbing them, I would guess a longer standing Order member than you and likely a longer surviving one than you if you don't watch your mouth."
"It's only Snape," the man protested, Aidan Lynch, or so Severus believed. World famous seeker and the man was still treated as a rather slow schoolboy by Minerva. Thank goodness Severus himself had passed that stage. That said, he had never been quite as naïve as this dunderhead. It was nice to know that she would stoop to defend him as though he were one of her lion cubs.
Severus watched as Minerva frowned sternly at the young man. Really, they were fighting a war here, not running a duelling club for squabbling first years.
"And he is only our most valuable agent and the Unspeakbles number among them the only Blood Mage currently practicing and the Runemaster he works with. Both, I should add, were close to Severus when they were in school.”
"Oh," Lynch said, voice wavering slightly. Severus smirked as he walked out of earshot. No matter that Jason Derwent was almost Gryffindor-like in his sense of honour or that he practiced the art in the ancient way, which was classified as the purest of light magic, he was still considered a dangerous man. Even Severus would agree that that description was very, very true. The Unspeakable of the Unspeakables, as the premier assassin known to the wizarding world, could hardly be otherwise
He had known from the instant he laid eyes on them that the books were journals. Jason’s journals. The journals that were the record every Unspeakable was required to keep throughout his career, normally sealed carefully away from any eye but their owner’s.
Once he reached his chambers, he cast his dignity aside and sat cross-legged on the floor next to the box. On top of the neatly stored books was a single sheet of parchment scrawled on in familiar, messy handwriting that their teachers had learned to despair of.
Authorization given to Agent Viper to study these records compiled by Agent Derwent given August 24th 1997 in preparation to supporting Agent Derwent in a forthcoming mission.
He could scarcely contain his surprise when they started at the unprecedented age of fifteen. He knew his friend had been young but hadn't quite realized he'd been a full Unspeakable before the age of sixteen or seventeen.
Journal of events
Agent Number: 1007
Agent ID: Derwent
Date at enrolment: 17th October 1977
Record Number: 0001
Age at commencement of record: 15
Date at commencement of record: 17th October 1977
This is the journal of Jason Melchior Derwent, once Harry James Potter, aged 15 years, 11 months, 3 days and begins with events that took place 3rd July 1996.
I suppose it began at the end of my fifth year at Hogwarts when I returned to my relative's house for the summer. It seemed like any other year but when we passed Wisteria Walk, where I guess the wards around the house reached to, I felt pain pass through my body and I am fairly sure there was a very bright white light. Discussing it today with some Unspeakables, I think it must have happened because I attempted to cast a Cruciatus Curse that earlier that summer and the wards were meant to repel dark magic. They must have reacted badly when the person they were tuned to protect also counted as a dark wizard they protected against. That wasn't clear but I can't think how else to say it.
I must have fainted. When I came to, I was lying on the pavement and there was no sign of the car, my things or my relatives, not that I was too upset about that last. . . .
Chapter 3
Harry came to with a groan and, trying to ignore the throbbing in the back of his head, forced his eyes open. He appeared to be in Little Whinging still and was quite alone - not a kidnapping attempt then. There was, however, no sign of his relatives.
He sighed and shut his eyes again. He'd obviously been abandoned for the summer and that was perfectly okay for him since he really couldn't summon the effort to move just yet.
He started upwards when a loud crack sounded just metres from him, hand going for his wand in the back pocket of his jeans, buttocks endangered or not.
"Hello there," came a cheerful voice from above him and he was helped carefully to his feet and then flashed an ID card. "Department of Mysteries, Head of the Time related Accidents department. Please accompany me to -"
"Time related accidents?" Harry exclaimed, shocked. What the hell had he done this time? He looked around, mildly panicked. It was definitely Little Whinging - that was Dudley’s friend Piers’s house - but somehow different. The cars would probably have fetched a fortune as antiques, for one thing.
"I know we're a small department and haven't actually done anything since the timeturner scandal of 1784 but I ask you! You should have covered us in History of Magic by now - what is Hogwarts teaching these days?”
"No, no, it's just that I didn't know I'd done anything. Well, except blacking out but that does happen quite often…"
"Really? Let me make a note on that. I'm honoured to be the one in charge of your case, youngster. We‘ll have you sorted in no time."
"Thanks," Harry said helplessly. "I'm Ha..."
"No names please - it might cause problems in the future despite complete confidentiality. You'll be provided with everything you need, including an identity. If you would hold onto my arm tightly please, I will need your co-operation for Side-Along-Apparition to the Department of Mysteries.”
Harry considered it for a moment. Honestly, he had no idea what an Unspeakable’s ID looked like, if they even had them. That said, a Death Eater wouldn’t have wasted the time saying hello - they tended to get straight to the gloating, torture and killing part of the conversation. The longer he stayed out in the open, the higher the chances of them tracking him down. He’d rather take his chances with the Ministry.
Harry gripped the man's arm, a little nervous. He hadn't known that it was possible to Apparate two people at once. Still, the man seemed very confident…
Harry felt the man's arm twist away from him and tightened his grip: the next thing he knew, everything went black; he was being pressed very hard from all directions; he could not breathe, there were iron bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs were being forced back into his head; his eardrums were being pushed deeper into his skull, and then...
He hit the ground with a thud, gasping as existing bruises came into contact with a hard floor. Blinking spots out of his eyes and gasping in deep breaths, he looked around him curiously. He was in a small room, an office most likely. There were no windows, just a desk and bookcases packed to overflowing. Papers and journals were stacked knee high on the floor. He gingerly threaded his way through them to collapse into a chair.
"Are you alright?" the man asked, weaving his way through the mess to take a seat behind the desk.
"I think so," Harry said, wriggling a foot that had been jarred in the landing to check for serious damage. "Where am I exactly?"
"Where or when, kid? It doesn't really matter. You're currently in my office in the Department of Mysteries, located below the Ministry of Magic and the date is 17th June 1977."
Harry sat down again abruptly. That was years! It was before he'd even been born! It was before... well, no, it probably wasn't before his parents were born but Merlin's blood, it was probably before his parents had even got married.
"You may call me Mr Roberts; I'm the Unspeakable temporarily in charge of your case."
Harry opened his mouth to reply,
"No! Don't tell me your name - I can't know anything about you other than the most general things, unless of course, you come from the past? That would simplify matters greatly but the trend is the other direction."
"No. I supose I'm from the future. Your future, anyway - my past." The logistics were making his head spin.
"Less than fifty years?”
Harry nodded cautiously. That would make sense given that things outside hadn’t seemed so different from the Little Whinging he knew.
“Good - then it won't be so much different from what you're used to."
"You mean you can't just… just…"
"Send you back?" Mr Roberts asked gently. "No, I'm afraid not. Accidental time travel over years is very different from that of just a few hours using time turners. The sheer power involved would be astronomical. I'm sorry for your sake that you're going to have to make your life here from now on."
"On my own?" Harry asked. "But… my uncle and aunt aren't here, so -"
"We're not that heartless, kid. From the moment of your arrival, you have been counted as an Unspeakable with all rights and privileges that come with that. You've got a home here as long as you want it and we'll set you up with a cover story so that you can go to Hogwarts as soon as you've passed your basic training and acclimatisation. You haven't finished school, have you?"
"N-no," Harry managed to say. He was never going to see Ron and Hermione again and Remus would be going frantic with worry about him probably. "I got back from my fifth year today."
He had to look away from the pity in Mr Roberts’ eyes.
“We’ll be able to see you safely through school and then if you want to find another job and get a flat of your own, we’ll help you there as well. But that is interesting, very interesting. I shall have to make a note of that - you haven't travelled straight years back, but there's also been a seasonal displacement. Now, with your permission, I will leave you here while I fetch the head of our department. Please, feel free to look through the books here - you should start to think about how you would like to be called."
Harry nodded, scanning the room. As Mr Roberts left he gripped his wand firmly in his hand and moved to sit on the floor on the other side of a large armchair tucked against the wall, where he would have at least minimal protection from someone attacking him from the door side. His head was spinning; he had to think things through before he could decide what to do. However kind Mr Roberts appeared to be, things had moved too fast for him to process all the information yet.
To start of with, he was apparently in the past with very little proof of either that or the identity of the people who had him. Well, what if they had lied to him? He didn't know how to Apparate, he had no real way of getting outside and didn't really have a clue where he was. If that was the case, since they didn't seem to have any immediate to harm him, he'd probably be best just to go along with it and maybe he'd have a chance to learn something useful.
If they were telling the truth, well, that could be a problem. Damn it, he had responsibilities in his own time without starting to worry about theirs as well! Besides, he didn't know anyone here, the Order would be worrying themselves silly - or at least he hoped they would be - and he'd have to wait about twenty years before he could see them again.
That is, until he saw his friends. Since they planned to send him to Hogwarts here, if his guesses were right, he'd be within a year or two of his parents. That... that wouldn't be so bad. Weird, but in a good way. He'd have a chance to study before facing Voldemort as well and get some professional training. That could only be a good thing.
With that, Harry decided to make the best of his situation. He was going to co-operate and learn to fight, to kill if necessary and, if he had the chance, get to know his parents. Suddenly he grinned. Of course, Ron and Hermione wouldn't be worrying about him because he could always turn up just as he'd vanished, just twenty odd years older, and they might not even know he was gone!
With that thought, he turned to the shelf of books by the desk and took a seat, pulling out an old-looking naming book and pureblood genealogy. He needed to find a name that he could live with for as long as necessary, a name that no one would be able to connect with Harry Potter, now or in the future. As for the pureblood idea, well, given that he was probably as likely to go to Slytherin as Gryffindor - after all, he would be sneaking around under a new name - fitting in would make it much more pleasant. There had to be some little-known family whose name he could 'adopt'.
He flicked through the book, discarding immediately any prominent or wealthy families he came across. Posing as a Malfoy might be amusing but he doubted the illusion would last long. As he quickly discovered, there were far fewer families than he would have expected, though each seemed to have a few branches in various parts of the country. Since physical characteristics like the Malfoy hair also seemed to run true, he managed to narrow down his search to a dozen or so. Reading more carefully, he selected one with a history for sitting very steadfastly on the fence in every conflict down the ages. They seemed to run to only children, the current heir and only surviving member of the family being an eighty-year-old recluse, employment unknown or non-existent. If he was indeed with the Unspeakables, he was sure they could arrange for Mr Derwent to vouch for a young son or grandson when necessary.
Harry picked up the naming book with a sigh. On the front was the rather degrading title 'A Thousand Traditional Names for your Child'. Well, he could discard half of those straight off. He was not going to turn into a girl just because he liked a name.
He spent a long time narrowing down the names to a short list of ten. He would have to live with this name. He didn't want anything already owned by someone he knew and he had to be able to live with it. Breaking into uncontrollable laughter every time someone said it would not be helpful.
Absorbed in his task, he jumped as he heard the soft tread of footsteps outside. He rolled out of the chair with little regard for his comfort, wand out and ready as he landed. He cautiously put his head up when he heard a soft, amused laugh.
"I see we will have little to teach you of paranoia, child," a quite voice said. The speaker, a severe looking gentleman of perhaps a sprightly seventy, took a seat on the chair behind the desk. "Well, sit down."
Harry quickly scrambled back up, feeling a little embarrassed at being quite so distrustful. He was sure that it wasn’t normal for a fifteen year old to expect to be attacked by random strangers.
"I am Agent Nemesis, Head of the Department of Mysteries. I am the one person who you are encouraged to tell anything about your past life. But first, I must welcome you to our time and home. I hope you will come to consider it yours also. It is many years since we have had a arrival such as yourself yet I feel confident that the systems we have in place will be able to guide you through it with the least disruption."
"Thank you sir."
"Before I ask anything else, I must ask you a few details: your name and date of birth. Because of my position, I am the only person authorised to be in possession of these facts since I must ensure that we do nothing to disrupt the timeline."
Harry took a deep breath. He was aware that this might be the last time he said either of those things for a long, long time.
"I'm Harry James Potter. I was born on July 31st 1980."
"That isn't so far from now. When that date comes, you must be very careful about being near your younger self. There have been very few experiments conducted on this subject but it is almost universally agreed that being in too close proximity could have disastrous effects. However, you will have time to finish school before this becomes an issue and we will be able to set arrangements in place in advance, so disruption should be minimal. I would assume that you are a sixth year?"
"Yes sir. I was just starting my summer holiday before sixth year when this happened."
"You will be a few weeks behind when you join Hogwarts then, we will try to help you catch up on your studies. Have you given any thought to a name?"
"I thought maybe 'Derwent' as a surname, if that's possible, and I've got a few names that I'm thinking about."
"An interesting choice. As it happens, Melchior Derwent did some work for the Aurors in his younger days - it will be a minor matter to gain his cooperation. I won't hurry you to pick a forename but remember, if you are in doubt, go with whatever feels right to you. An incident like this rarely happens without reason and there may be times when you are guided into the correct decisions."
Harry glanced back at the sheet of parchment where he'd scrawled the names down.
"I think I know then, sir: Jason Derwent. That is okay, isn't it?"
For a second, it looked like the old man was surprised, then he smiled with satisfaction.
"A good, classical name, even if the Muggles have begun to use it more frequently recently. You are aware, I am sure, that you will also require a middle name. Would Melchior be acceptable? It is customary to name the son after his father or grandfather.”
Harry nodded. Jason Melchior Derwent - it sounded strange to his ears but still better than being called Draco or Regulus or Rodolphus.
“The next thing I believe must be settled is your living arrangements. Normally, the procedure would be to have you enter the Department as an Unspeakable and move into the quarters that come with the post. You, however, are still at school, so an alternative arrangement will have to be made. I’m impressed by how you’re handling yourself in this situation and I can trust that you’re magically powerful enough to trigger an extreme magical reaction or you wouldn’t be sitting here. I’m prepared to offer you an apprenticeship under me that would allow you to join us immediately. Alternatively, we’ll arrange a foster family for you until you come of age. The choice is yours.”
Harry thought for a moment. He didn’t like the sound of a foster family - it sounded too much like the Dursleys. He’d far rather be doing something, actively training or studying. The apprenticeship sounded like a good idea, certainly he didn't want to be left to cope on his own, but then he didn't really know what an apprenticeship would involve.
"Could you possibly tell me about it sir, I'm afraid I've never really heard about it before and…"
The man smiled. He reminded Harry somewhat of Dumbledore, in that he seemed completely in control of the situation even though Harry’s arrival must have taken him by surprise.
"It is always better to admit ignorance than attempt to fake knowledge. By taking you as my apprentice, I am promising to provide you with your basic necessities - accommodation, food, clothing etc - as well as my instruction in return for your service as an Unspeakable. The contract would be ended either when I deem you competent or after a period of five years, whichever occurs sooner. There are various regulations protecting both sides of the partnership during this time period."
"I think I can agree to that sir."
"I will warn you now that you won't enjoy some of it. I intend to work you hard, harder than even most of the department's recruits that have been through high level training already. I don’t take mediocre apprentices. Are you still willing?"
Harry thought about it for a moment then smiled wryly: what had his life been up 'til now except hard work. This was probably the best way for him to learn.
"Yes sir."
"Excellent. Take my hand and repeat after me: 'I, Jason Melchior Derwent, do request a general apprenticeship from the Unspeakable Nemesis'"
Harry dutifully repeated this.
"I, the Unspeakable Nemesis, do solemnly swear to care for Jason Melchior Derwent and to educate him as I see fit to do his duty to myself and his family. So mote it be."
Golden threads shot out from Harry's wand, still in his pocket, and from Nemesis' to encircle their joined hands. After a moment, the shimmering faded leaving only the afterimage. Harry blinked the spots away to focus again on his new teacher.
"So that is done. Come, I will take you to your new rooms. As my apprentice, you will have a bedroom in my quarters. I am sure you are hungry by now."
Harry's stomach gave a embarrassingly loud rumble right on cue and he flushed guiltily. Nemesis laughed.
"You are hardly the first boy I have taught, child. After a day such as this one, I doubt there is much you wish for more than a good meal and an early night. Both are easily provided."
Shortly afterwards, he opened a plain looking door to reveal a warm and cluttered living room which he ushered Harry into.
"This is the main room. You have free access to anything that you can find in here: books, artefacts: the lot. The room to your left is my bedroom. I would prefer that you stay out unless there is an emergency and I of course will extend you the same courtesy. I have an en suite bathroom, as do you. Your rooms are to your right - I am sure that Roberts has arranged for house elves to have brought your things there by now. The two doors at the end lead to my study and the dining room. Because of the secrecy concerning our identities, we tend to eat in private. However, I am sure you will have plenty of time to make friends in training sessions."
"Thank you," Harry said, scarcely believing it. This man was opening his home to him after knowing him only for a few minutes. Not only that but he had given Harry his own room and promised not to enter it without proper justification! It was a privilege that he'd longed for, ever since he'd seen Ron's room back in first year.
"Come through to the kitchen and I'll make sure you have everything you need and leave you to eat. I suspect you need some time alone to think everything over. I'll make sure you have Dreamless Sleep by your bed should you feel that you want it."
As Harry, or Jason as he was now to be called, went into his room and closed the door behind him, Nemesis looked at the door thoughtfully for a minute. The child was intriguing, very intriguing. A child's face shown for the world to see, power simmering scarcely hidden that was enough to impress even him, the paranoia and reflexes of an Auror twice his age and vivid green eyes, old before their time, which spoke of experiences Nemesis could only guess at.
All this and a name that was chosen seemingly unknowingly from a tale that seemed to have more connection to their current state of affairs than perhaps anyone had foretold. This would be one to watch, most definitely and perhaps a worthy successor.
When Harry woke, he had no way of knowing what time it was from the light in the room - the Department of Mysteries was deep underneath the Ministry of Magic. Lying in bed, he squinted to read his watch: four in the afternoon. He was upright before he realised that it was still running in the future and was probably wrong. He made a note to change it when he had a chance.
He jumped as a house elf appeared in his room. He rubbed his eyes blearily with one hand while groping automatically for his glasses with the other.
"Breakfast for Master Derwent is waiting in the kitchen," came the squeaky voice almost immediately. “Robes are in the wardrobe.”
"Uh thank you," Harry managed. That was not the way he had expected to begin his day.
As soon as the house elf had gone again, he swung himself out of bed and, noticing that the clothes he’d left piled on the chair were gone, went over to the wardrobe. He opened it and gasped. Inside seemed to be more clothes than he had ever owned in his life. Hanging freely were conservatively styled robes in predominantly green and black, folded on the shelf above were dress shirts in various colours and he could see a drawer, presumably containing underwear. On the floor of the wardrobe was a line of shoes of various degrees of smartness. It was admittedly impressive that they had managed to concoct all of this in less than twenty-four hours. He supposed that the house elves had been preparing the room fully while he slept. He hoped it had been the house elves, anyway: even five years of sleeping in a dormitory hadn’t accustomed him to sleeping through the sounds of other people moving around the room.
Harry selected a plain green robe and white shirt, deciding to err on the side of caution since he had no idea what was appropriate for what he would be doing that day. After dressing quickly, he moved through into the main rooms.
Nemesis was nowhere to be found. Well, that was hardly surprising given that he was such an important man. Harry had once heard someone - probably Ron - say that the Head of the Department of Mysteries had more to say in the running of the country than the Minister himself did! Once he'd eaten, he took the opportunity to explore the rooms. They were exactly as he'd been told: simple, relatively small but practical and homely.
Hearing someone enter the living room behind him, he forced himself to turn slowly. After all, he was sure that the rooms were secure and it would be insufferably rude to act as though he was suspicious of his host.
"Good morning," he said, smiling at Nemesis.
"Morning Jason. Good to see you up so early. Are the clothes suitable? I admit that the house elves had to estimate the correct sizes."
"They're great, thank you. Very… green."
"I'm glad you like them. If there's anything else you need, within reason, you need only ask. I think today we will focus on preparing you for what will come, so there are a few things we have to discuss before we begin."
"Now, you will be entering your sixth year at Hogwarts, correct? Clearly we will have to have you re-sit your OWLs but for now I'd like to know which subjects you ...
aaasik