Professor Potter Ch. 23 (Harry Potter AU) (Patreon)

A/N: The plot thiccens. Get it? Because Emma Frost do be thicc tho.

EDIT: Sorry, messed the voting part up the first time I posted this, so had to re-post. If you think you already voted, make sure to vote again!

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Yennefer’s daughter Ciri was an opportunity to be sure… but also very likely a trap. In the end, it was better that Harry didn’t engage, at least for the time being. There would be other opportunities in the future. Opportunities that Harry could create with his own two hands and magic, and thus trust not to be traps.

In the meantime, however, it didn’t seem like a good idea to let this situation with the new Astronomy Professor, Ms. Frost, fester too much. Learning that she was asking after him, well… it piqued his interest, if he was being honest. Her and her assistant, Jean Grey, were complete unknowns for the moment. So perhaps it was time to change that.

Of course, he would have preferred if it was another meeting in his classroom, like with Zatanna. The home court advantage, if you would. But alas, it seemed like he couldn’t get his way on that. Sending a message to Professor Frost had resulted in a reply back inviting him to take a private dinner in the Astronomy Tower with her and her assistant.

It would have been rude and even worse, counterproductive, to decline the seemingly gracious invite. Still, Harry was a little worried he was walking into a trap. There was nothing to it, in the end. The Lodge were his true enemies, as far as he was aware. And one couldn’t really gain anything if they weren’t willing to risk anything, now, could they?

And so, Harry found himself up in the Astronomy Tower on an admittedly wonderful evening. The sky was clear, meaning the stars were out and about. It was a Saturday, the very next Saturday after he had gotten back from his weekend trip with Zatanna and Raven in fact, so there was no late night Astronomy classes to be had.

It was actually rather interesting. This was the very place where Harry had taken years of Astronomy Classes under the gaze of one Professor Aurora Sinistra. However, it looked absolutely nothing like it had under her care. Instead, the placed was filled with all sorts of American décor, and in the center of it, what was probably just a temporary thing for the night, a dining table and some high back chairs are set up.

As Harry sits down at the table with Emma Frost across from him and Jean Grey on the side, he considers the two beautiful witches for a moment. Professor Frost is the older of the two, of course, but unlike with Zatanna and Raven, she’s old enough to be Jean’s mother. Jean, much like Raven, is of an age with Harry, and smiles and flushes, averting her gaze when he glances in her direction.

Emma on the other hand, is decidedly older… however, the slow aging of a powerful witch means she only appears that way because of the nimbus of magic that seems to waft off of her. In truth, look’s wise, she’s a lot like Zatanna, albeit with a slightly fuller figure. But in power? Her age shines through readily.

Harry isn’t all that bothered though. The gorgeous blonde is powerful, but… so is he. She doesn’t seem to care as much about controlling that power as Harry does, with him working hard to rein in his own aura long before he came to Hogwarts, utilizing the information he was able to find in the things left behind by the two family fortunes he’d inherited.

It wasn’t just wealth after all, but also knowledge. Quite a lot of it in fact.

Regardless, even as they’re all getting settled and eyeing each other up, the food from the Hogwarts Kitchens appears on the table in front of them all, large platters filled with delightful arrays of deliciously cooked treats and entrees alike. Harry knows that, just as with any meal he has at Hogwarts, he could stuff himself to the brim off of this food. He’ll have to be careful not to. Not good to go into a food coma when eating with relative strangers.

“Thank you for accepting my invitation to dinner, Professor Potter. Jean and I have been so very… curious about you, ever since we arrived at Hogwarts.”

Her icy blue eyes flicker over to Jean at that, and the younger witch quickly nods, backing up her… Mistress? Harry still didn’t truly know the relationship between the two of them. It seemed likely that Jean was her apprentice in some way, shape or form, especially if she’d followed Emma all the way over across an ocean to this place.

But then, while it was obvious that Jean was here because Emma was here, it wasn’t quite so obvious why Professor Frost had come. Or… was it? Harry had a sinking suspicion that he knew exactly why the gorgeous blonde might have accepted Andromeda’s offer to teach at Hogwarts. Maybe it was a little ego-centric, but he was beginning to suspect that all of this led… right back to him.

Deciding to take a stab in the dark, he chews down his current bite of food and swallows before replying with a smile of his own that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I must admit, I was wondering when the invitation would come. I’ve been waiting for you two to get in contact.”

That gets something of a reaction, Harry immediately notes. Jean’s is more pronounced them Emma’s, though. While the blonde stiffens and her eyes narrow slightly, Jean’s head whips towards him and her own eyes widen in surprise. The red head knows better than to speak up though at least, and after a long moment of silence, Emma clears her throat slightly.

“Oh?”

Harry just smiles at them both. Well, it was working so far… so why not keep it up?

“Of course. I’m why you’re both here in Great Britain, aren’t I? Well, I’m at your disposal. Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?”

His confidence this time around gets much more of a reaction from Emma, while Jean just looks somewhat shellshocked. Leaning forward, the blonde puts down her utensils and stares at him intensely. Harry raises an eyebrow as he feels something noticeable brush against his Occlumency defenses.

“You know why we’re here?”

He can feel it. Her probing his mind… or rather, trying to. He hadn’t learned Occlumency back when he was still in school, but he DEFINITELY had after the fact. He’d shied away from the Black Family Occlumency Techniques because they seemed a bit too cruel. Now? Now he almost wishes he hadn’t, if only so he could teach Ms. Frost a lesson. As it is, he’d settled for the Potter Family Occlumency Techniques, mostly because they seemed a lot more reasonable and less… prone to escalation.

His mind a fortress, he can nevertheless feel Emma Frost trying to worm her way in all the same. And so, he activates his defenses… and lets a metaphorical pot of boiling oil fall upon her metaphorical head. Just before it can hit however, and she can be forcibly expelled from his head, something interesting happens… she’s pulled away by a third party, dragged out of his mind by someone else…

“H-He doesn’t. He doesn’t know anything. But he was ready for you. Um, trying to enter his mind isn’t a good idea, m-ma’am.”

Harry’s emerald eyes widen as he flicks them over to Jean Grey, who has just spoken up. Emma looks to the younger witch too, seeming far more ruffled now. Her lips thin out, while Harry tries to figure out exactly how Jean got the information she got. He scours his mind’s defenses… and then realizes, with a shuddering sort of horror, that it doesn’t matter. His Occlumency isn’t up to the challenge. Jean Grey, whoever she is, is in his head anyways.

In an instant, Harry is up on his feet, wand out and pointed at the unassuming young witch. Jean goes wide-eyed and freezes in her chair, while Emma draws her own wand… but not quick enough. Neither of them are quick enough to react.

In an instant, a silent stunner explodes from Harry’s wand and smacks Jean right in the chest. The red head slumps over her plate, unconscious. Meanwhile, he brings his wand back around and casts an equally silent Protego, just in time to catch Emma’s retaliatory spell and deflect it away. The whole exchange is the span of a few seconds, as he glares angrily at Emma Frost, who looks just as unhappy with him.

“What did you do to her?!”

“She’s unconscious! I don’t much appreciate people rummaging around in my mind!”

“She can’t control it! It’s not her fault!”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe the woman who definitely just tried to read my thoughts as well and failed!”

There’s a brief pause, as they both stare each other down. Harry is half-ready for things to devolve even further into a fight, when Emma’s shoulders slump.

“… Fair enough. I apologize on behalf of both my apprentice and myself, Lord Potter-Black. We could have approached this far better, and we did not.”

If there’s one thing Harry isn’t expecting from Professor Frost, it’s sudden humility. And an apology to boot. She even sets down her wand, places her hands at her sides, and BOWS to him while she gives it. He doesn’t take his wand off of her, of course. Instead, he keeps it trained on her, even as she continues to apologize.

“I’m telling the truth, however. Jean… cannot control her Legilimency. We’re working on it, her and I, but it’s slow going.”

Brow furrowing, Harry shakes his head in abject confusion.

“You’ll have to explain THAT one to me a fair bit more. How does that even work? What do you mean she can’t control her Legilimency?!”

Emma slowly lifts her head, stiffening and pursing her lips when she sees his wand is still trained on her. If she thought he was just going to relax though, she had another thing coming. Regardless, she sighs as she glances to her unconscious charge.

“… Jean and I are both natural Legilimens. We were born with the skill, and it just… it happens naturally. We can control it, and we DO learn to control it… but Jean… Jean is special in a way that I am not.”

Harry can practically feel destiny or fate or what have you creeping up his spine yet again. He’d been making educated guesses when he started spouting bullshit about them coming to Britain for him, just to get reactions out of them. Still, this was feeling more and more like it was going to be another sob story just like Zatanna and Raven’s. The difference being, Zatanna and Raven hadn’t invaded his mind without his consent and read his thoughts.

“And how, exactly, is she special?”

Grimacing, Emma lets out a slow breath before finally answering him.

“… She’s a new breed of natural Legilimens. Her talent is… incredible. Specifically, she ignores all forms of Occlumency, like they aren’t even there. That’s what I meant by her inability to help herself. She reads the minds of everyone around her constantly, no matter their defenses, because she’s still working on controlling her natural gift. It wasn’t her fault that she was hearing your thoughts, and knew you were bullshitting us.”

There’s the smallest hint of defensive judgment in the blonde witch’s tone at that last part, while Harry finds himself turning over what she just said in his mind. It’s a scary thought, that someone could be as powerful as she’s claiming Jean Grey is. The young witch just no-sold Occlumency? That was some bullshit. He’d never heard of magic interacting like that before, but then, he was still young and his forays into the repositories of knowledge he’d inherited had just begun.

Was there some defense against Jean’s talent all the same and he just needed to find it? Who knew, really. For the moment, keeping her unconscious was a defense at least, he supposed. Not one he could rely upon forever, however…

Still, there was one point of confusion for him.

“… I’m not sure what this all has to do with me. I’m not a natural Legilimens. I’m not even a trained Legilimens. I know Occlumency and that’s it. So, what in Merlin’s name do you want with me?”

Looking increasingly like she’s feeling backed into a corner, Emma Frost grits her teeth, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

“… We left America behind looking for a certain degree of protection. We thought we might find it here, at Hogwarts, under your aegis.”

Bewildered, Harry knows he looks taken aback. He FEELS taken aback.

“My aegis?! What does that even mean?!”

Straightens up, Emma looks down her nose at him, sneering just a bit.

“Your little school and island is not all there is to the Magical World, Harry James Potter. There is evil everywhere… darkness to be found in every corner of the world, in fact. Tell me, who was Lord Voldemort to you?”

The question throws Harry for a loop, but he’s a little annoyed as is, so he decides to answer her question as caustically as she’s speaking to him.

“The man who killed my parents, for starters.”

Good, that got a wince out of her. He continues on.

“He was a monster. MY monster. The damn Prophecy meant he was never going to leave me alone. He was my enemy. The Dark Lord.”

Emma’s eyes light up at that last bit, and she seizes upon it as she slaps her hands down on the table in front of her and leans forward further.

“There. THE Dark Lord. Tell me, Harry Potter… what in the world made you think Lord Voldemort was the only Dark Lord? THE Dark Lord? Don’t make me laugh. No… he was merely a Dark Lord.”

Harry jolts at that, getting the meaning behind her words easily enough. Emma smirks momentarily at seeing the realization alight in his eyes, before her shoulders slump and she lowers her head.

“… Once again, I apologize for my behavior. Perhaps a more… heartfelt apology is in order? If you would be willing to hear me out… I would gladly make it worth your while.”

As she speaks, she reaches up and tugs a little bit at her low cut top. The white dress she’s wearing has no shoulders to it, meaning Harry has already gotten a couple glimpses down the front of it as she’s leaned forward while they spoke. Now, she’s practically giving him a free show as she goes from caustic to sultry in less than a second.

It’s some serious mood whiplash, but there’s no denying how sexy Emma Frost is. At the same time, does he really want this to be how they start off their relationship? No, rather… does he want a relationship with these two at all? Perhaps it would be better to just tell her to fuck off and get out of here while he still could. Even if there was another Dark Lord… hadn’t he done enough by handling his own? He’d satisfied the Prophecy, damn it. Wasn’t he entitled to his freedom?