The Forgotten Twin

November came early, and with it a blast of icy cold weather that Bard hadn’t been prepared for. During the days of his circus life, he’d have always prepared to go down south for warmer weather and after that, he’d been staying in the middle of hot scorching sand. Not even the desert’s night air could compare to Scotland’s winter season.

“Good Morning Hagrid!” He shouted after spotting Hagrid down by the courtyard. The giant waved a gloved hand in return.

“Good Morning to yeh, Charles!” Bard made a face that was unseen by the giant and continued on in his light jog.

Ever since he had found out about everything that had happened of when he was a babe -by way of books and vague information from his godfather-, he was certainly surprised. Of all things that would have happened, he certainly wasn’t expecting to be almost murdered by a Dark Lord, accidentally misplaced by the hands of a half-giant and to be thought dead after by the entire wizarding community. It was bizarre, even for a magical person, but after everything that had happened in his life, he certainly didn’t hate the half-giant for it, in fact, he was most thankful of him -though he hasn't had the opportunity to convey this to him. The giant gave him a wide berth to the point of ignoring him from what he could only think of as guilt and complied to let the groundskeeper stay comfortable by reciprocating the man. It was only during these few weeks of greeting the giant during his morning runs that he could get an acknowledgement from the bearded man.

After his jog, he headed back down to his dormitory for his refreshingly warm bath.

“I can’t imagine why you continue with this ridiculous exertion of yours Bard.” Draco’s voice filtered from his seat near the fireplace once he entered the room. He discarded his heavy coat, gloves and muffler and hung it on the coat stand next to the fireplace to dry.

“I’m aiming to be a personal bodyguard of a prince, Drake. To be physically fit is one of the qualities to be had.” Bard answered. Draco made a face, much the same as Bard’s when hearing a disliked name.

“Don’t call me ‘Drake’, Charlus,” sneered Draco, “What I don’t understand is for you to exercise outside in this weather. If you haven’t noticed, it’s freezing cold.”

“Yes, I have noticed.” Bard said as he took a seat next to Draco, “but En won’t always be in a perfect weather condition when he gets abducted or something and I need my body to get used to different weather conditions to strengthen my immunity.” He explained.

“It’s still ridiculous.” Draco murmured and sipped his steaming hot chocolate.

“Aw, Draco! I didn’t know you care so much.” Bard teased, leaning in on Draco’s space.

“No, I don’t Charles! And don’t lean so close! You reek.” Draco tried to lean away but couldn’t much do so with his hot mug on hand. “Bard!”

Bard grinned and stopped. In these few months had he noticed Draco calling out his name when he clearly wants Bard’s attention and so tried to utilise this whenever he could. Pansy then walked on in the common room, catching them in their awkward position; Bard hasn’t leaned away from Draco and has cornered the disgruntled blond with his two arms. She ignored this.

“You two better hurry up or else you’ll miss the first game of the season.” She reminded them as she left the dormitory. In his close proximity at Draco’s face, Bard could almost spot a light pink of embarrassment on his cheeks. He was almost tempted to kiss it just for the sake of more teasing.

“Better get ready then,” Bard stood, “wouldn’t want to miss my first ever game, yeah?” He grinned at the blond with a knowing look. Draco sipped the last of his chocolate drink in an attempt to cover his face.

[Quidditch; Slytherin vs. Gyffindor]

Quidditch, the most popular sport of the entirety of wizarding world from what Bard understood. Played high in the sky with broomsticks with fourteen players all in all; three hoops on either side of the field, two cannon like balls magically charmed to smash any player in its vicinity off their broom, the two quaffle balls and the snitch.

“Three chasers to score hoops with the quaffles, two beaters to beat the bludgers to their opponent’s team, one keeper to defend the hoops and a seeker to catch the elusive snitch.” Bard muttered as he waited with all the other students in the quidditch pitch stands for the game to start. He looked through his binoculars that Mrs. Malfoy had generously given him along with Draco’s to scan the crowd. He spotted all the teachers from a middle stand slightly across the Slytherin’s and took a glance at their Head of House’s condition.

Ever since the incident on Halloween, he had been worried for his temporary master. He wondered many times why the professor would ever willingly go inside the room containing Cerberus. He must have known what it contained, he was a teacher. Whatever Cerberus was protecting, surely all the staff of Hogwarts knew about it before school even started. Bard was hard pressed to believe that the Headmaster would keep such a valued item in school without informing the teachers, so why?

He’s been working with Professor Sev for three months now to know that the highly disciplined Potions Professor wouldn’t try to steal; it was beneath him. Not to mention, he wouldn’t have revived an unconscious Bard that time if he did. He knew that Professor Sev was smart enough to know the liability of revealing one’s self near the intended mark, so that only meant one conclusion.

Professor Sev tried to stop whomever was trying to steal the valued item inside the third corridor. And Bard will bet his entire inheritance that the person whom he tried to stop was the same person that tried to erase his memories. Bard scowled fiercely from remembering his utter humiliation.

After reviewing his memories in the medical wing, they had discovered that though it wasn’t erased like it should have been the attacker did manage to erase his picture from the time Bard was attacked. As memory charms are often permanent and could not be taken back, Madam Pomfrey had nothing else to do and dismissed the issue with a note of warning to leave the matter alone and also not a word to students about the incident.

Bard agreed with the latter but he wasn’t about to consent with the former. A booming cheer from the crowds pulled him back to the quidditch pitch.

“Is that Harry Potter?” Draco’s incredulous statement reached his ears even from the loud roars of the crowd, particularly from Gryffindor. He looked down at the players on the field. Well, he couldn’t say he was surprised. The broomstick his brother had received way back when was such an obvious proof that nobody doubted that rumor. Draco must have been in a state of denial before this point. Bard placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“And they’re off!” Lee Jordan, a friend of the Weasley twins, announced as commentator.

It was a sport unlike any other Bard had seen.

With Lee Jordan’s excellent commentary of the match, Bard could follow the fast flying figures of the fourteen -no, twelve players in the pitch. The two seekers, Harry Potter and Terence Higgs, hovered out of the way from the fast paced game of their teammates -a wise move; the two beaters from each team looked more than ready for blood. Bard did not envy the quidditch players much.

The crowd roared as another point was made by Gryffindor and Bard heard himself howling and moaning together with his fellow housemates. The excitement was so infectious that once Lee had spotted the snitch, Bard had turned his head along with the rest of the crowd, watching as the two seekers dived down for it. He cringed when Marcus Flint, chaser and captain of the Slytherin’s team, blocked Harry’s path almost knocking the first year off his broom.

Bard twitched a smile. He heard someone yelling for a ‘Red Card’ -must be a soccer fan.

He was very much into the game that he missed his brother zigzagging in the air uncontrollably until someone had pointed it out loudly. Everyone gasped as Harry’s broom gave a wild jerk that had swung Harry off only for him to hold onto it with just one hand. Bard was stunned.

His mind was whirling for ideas but as soon as one came up, it seemed to disappear either for being too long to execute before his brother falls or that he was too far for any spell to reach. He almost cried out loud, when the weasley twins were intelligent enough to actually do something to try and help his brother. Though every time either one of them came near Harry, the broom would jump higher -each time, a risk on Harry’s grip. The two brothers instead hovered below the raven, intending to catch the boy if he lost their grip. Bard forced out a breath, he was thankful that there were at least two rational people that would act accordingly in the face of such danger. At that thought, he looked through his binoculars and pointed it directly at the teacher’s stand.

He scowled. It seemed as though all the teachers were just as stunned as the rest of the crowd and none were trying to help the first year -not even Professor McGonagall. He glanced at each of his teacher’s faces and almost bristled when one teacher caught his eye. His Defense against the Dark Arts Professor, the stuttering Professor Quirrell, was muttering fast but lowly words while staring at the direction of his brother. Was he trying to save Harry with some kind of advanced spell? It was plausible. Bard had read that quidditch brooms were enchanted with all kinds of charms before released to the market, mostly to prevent the players charming the brooms itself as a cheat. The only kinds of spell powerful enough to penetrate these -Bard had read- were dark magic, and Professor Quirrell is the Professor for the Defense against the Dark Arts.

Bard was too deep in his thoughts that he almost toppled over from Draco’s arm extending as he pointed at the scoreboard. The scathing glare he gave at the blond went ignored when another score was made by one of their chasers. Bard looked back at the teacher’s stand with his binoculars, only this time, he spotted Professor Sev also muttering rapidly. He frowned and turned back to Professor Quirrell only to catch him almost knocking headfirst in the front row.

Bard turned his binoculars over to Harry to test a theory.

His brother’s broom seemed to seize itself from shaking and Harry managed to swing himself up just as Professor Sev and the other teachers stood to some commotion.

Just a few minutes after, Harry had caught the snitch -almost swallowed, was what Flint moaned- but Bard’s thoughts wasn’t in the game anymore. He remembered.

“There must be some kind of rule-- Charles! Where are you going?” Draco called out to a speeding Bard pushing his way out of the booing crowd of his housemates.

“I’ll see you down at the Great Hall, Draco!” Bard yelled back at him before disappearing.

[Potions Dungeon]

‘BANG!’

A startled potions professor jumped and if Bard weren’t in a state of a serious mindset he would have taken advantage and teased the ever so stoic professor.

“And what do I owe the pleasure of you banging my door, Mr. Charles?” came the sarcastic but irritated response of Professor Sev. Any other student would have made a hasty apology and gotten out just as fast but Bard wasn’t frightened so easily.

“An explanation Professor.” Bard closed the door with as much force as he opened it. Professor Sev raised a brow, “Do tell.” he said dryly.

“With pleasure,” quipped Bard with a cheeky smile and stepped nearer to the Professor sitting at his desk in his office. “It started on a Halloween night,” Bard started and already he caught the very slight twitch of the Professor’s eye.

“I remember,” he emphasized, “insisting to a quivering Professor Quirrell to at least let me escort him to the other teachers prepared to fight a troll that had accidentally wandered in the school grounds. Professor Quirrell gives that sort of impression, you see, of a very clumsy person that one can’t ignore to help, or who knows what will become of him?” He only started but Professor Sev had already released a sigh of reluctant defeat yet he continued. The annoyance Professor Sev felt for the door slam was beyond comparison to an almost mind-erased victim.

“I was naive,” he spoke with dramatic flare, “a poor eleven year old who knew only to follow with good, heartfelt intentions of providing some sort of back-up for the helpless looking teacher. Following--”

“--like a Gryffindor who had no other thought but to blindly follow a stranger in the midst of unknown danger.” Snape sniped irritably. “Pray tell, where do you intend to go with this, Mr. Charles?”

“I remember Professor,” Bard frowned, ending the drama, “running into you at the hall with Professor Quirrell near the charm’s corridor with a wand raised at us just before I was knocked unconscious by the forgetful charm!” his tone was near yelling by the end. He felt the need to slam his hands on the Professor’s desk to release some frustration but relented. He messed with his hair instead and released a large breath. Professor Sev merely raised a brow at his display.

“You think--”

“Of course I know that Professor Quirrell is the culprit! I did say I was knocked behind not in front Professor. What I want is an explanation of what’s in the third floor that Professor Quirrell wants and why you went in running alone with nothing so much as backup?!” Everything seemed to come to a halt after that.

Professor Sev leant back on his chair with crossed arms. “And what do you hope to accomplish if given the information, Mr. Charles?” If it were any other student not sorted in Slytherin, they would have had a large amount of points taken off from their house and sent either to their own Head of House or the Headmaster himself.

“When I gain the information Professor Sev,” Bard corrected with a smirk, “I’ll be taking immense pleasure of ruining his plans for him. Be it through dirty or legal means. Though, to tell the truth I don’t really need to know what’s in the forbidden third floor to ruin his plans more as to just know of all the facts, as Master Scorpius always said.”

If one were not as observant as Bard was, one would have never noticed the slight twitch of interest on the Potions Master’s ever tightly composed face. Bard grinned as he proceeded to enlighten his Professor. He always liked whenever an adult sees him for more than his age.

“A few choice words with the Headmaster should strengthen any security measures for whatever the culprit’s trying to steal; add in some new ones for him to disable just to lengthen the time for the authorities to catch him or maybe make a room to render himself trapped and helpless and most importantly, caught.”

“And the dirty means?” Professor Sev had to ask to which Bard shrugged to.

“Just as it implies. Getting my hands dirty.”

Severus Snape might have shivered underneath his dark clothing from Bard’s unnatural yet casual way he responded, but with the Potion’s Master very tight control of his emotions and clever hiding skills, Bard would never know. Nevertheless, Bard’s countenance as he spoke of deadlier deeds was one Severus Snape would never forget and will always help remind him should he ever forget himself. That boy did not and will never acknowledge himself as light. But–

“And you think yourself more capable than those above you?” Professor Severus, Potions Master extraordinaire and experienced dueling wizard, was not easily deterred by the eleven year old. Bard almost visibly sulked.

“Of course not,” Bard scoffed out –and however sarcastic it sounded, Professor Sev believed the sincerity hidden beneath the tone. “It is merely my way of retaliation to those that attack me and mine.” As a Slytherin himself, Severus could not find any fault in those words as revenge was always given where it’s due. It was any good Slytherin would do; a prerogative.

But in certain circumstances uncontrolled by Bard’s Head of House, it would not simply do –and Bard knew that, so he settled for a compromise.

“Tell you what,” Bard continued, catching Professor Sev before the man could speak. “I agree to lay this issue down for a while until the culprit is captured or I notice his next move-“

“-In which you will then report to me and will follow whatever I say and order you to do-“ Snape interfered, haughtily.

“-Within reason” Bard glared back, “and to which I will have my say and do of when the culprit is given his due,” Bard continued, not one to back down on a vocal deal “-after his capture.” He ended to which Professor Sev agreed with a nod and suddenly the room felt warmer and Bard, unprepared for an assault, had the breath knocked out of him. He straggled and gave in to the overwhelming sensation that had his knees buckling to the floor.

“What-“

“Congratulations, Mr. Potter. You have experienced your first magical vow.” Snape toned dryly. “I suggest you not forget these words we have uttered and tread carefully of your actions from here on as these magical vows have a tendency to become hostile to those that do not follow the promises given. Until the culprit has been captured and you have a say of how the penalty goes, these words bound us to a fate worse than death. I hear having magic stripped from your core can be very painful indeed.” To say that Snape was unaffected by the gravity of his words did not surprise Bard, after all, most of the vow burdened him more than his Potions Master. But Bard was not easily intimidated and stood back up on his feet, smiling as he did so and patting himself off of nonexistent dust.

“So long as we understand each other, Professor.” Bard gave a final easy-going grin to his Potions Master. “I’ll see you at dinner. And oh!” He turned towards the professor, his grin turning sly. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you not answering my other question, professor-”

“You do not question my motives and I do not question yours, is that clear, Mr. Potter?” Clearly, the revered pride of the Potions Master was heavily swiped at by a student (especially a Slytherin student of his) knowing. ‘So long as he understands’ Bard thought.

Grin still in place, Bard left. A final unvoiced decision was left between the two.

No one was to know of their promise until the day of the culprit’s capture.

Tbc