Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"SLYTHERIN!" bellowed the hat. It echoed around the large hall and those that wore the brilliant green and silver robes politely clapped as the First Year walked down the dais steps towards the table on the far left. The other houses, mostly those garbed in yellows or in blues, clapped as well. Those dressed with bright crimson either huffed silently or had been staring off into space for the past ten minutes.

The was enough to gather what little information I was offered today on the different aspects on houses. Throughout the entire train ride and what little I've seen of the sorting, there were a few peculiar things that caught my attention. Those in red, Gryffindors from my guessing, were only as rowdy whenever someone joined their ranks, but were well mannered and gave respectful applause to those other than the those in emerald green. But never did the two houses give an applause for the other, and instead huffed or stuck up their noses in retaliation to the other gaining another member among their ranks.

"Granger, Hermione," the professor, McGonagall if I remembered her name properly, called out. The bushy haired girl from the train shakily walked up the steps herself and plopped down on the stool, glancing up warily at the torn up hat that was placed upon her dark curls. They sat there for a while, like some others before her, before the Sorting Hat finally decided on the house she was to be placed in with a loud "RAVENCLAW!" which sent the girl rushing down to the table in blues and silver that sat rat next to the one in green. She would have gone down to the table with the Sorting Hat still placed upon her head if it wasn't for the stern professor grabbing onto the ratty tail end and tugging it back for the next First Year student. Everyone clapped, for it seemed the rivalry was only placed between Green and Red, rather than Blue and Yellow.

This was a pattern for the next students. An eleven year old would walk up, nervous, and the hat would be placed on their head. Depending on the kid, the Sorting Hat would take from only a few centimeters from touching the first hair to three minutes after putting the hat on for the second time just to be sure. Most went to Gryffindor or Hufflepuff before they reached the "G"s, where a Goyle, Gregory was the first Slytherin after a long line of other houses to be sorted for the left side of the hall. After that Slytherin popped up more. A Malfoy, Draco was the next after him, and then a Nott, Theodore.

Once they got to the letter "P", I prepared myself. I knew who I was, how important I was and will be once my name was called out. Only one who was silly enough to not open their text books before term wouldn't know. Of course, I didn't know myself, all things considered, until a few weeks before, but I still managed to figure out how important I was to the Wizarding Community. How those reacted at the sight of the flesh wound that had settled just above my brow for nearly all my life. If it wasn't for that, I would just be a normal wizard who probably still wouldn't have known about the magical world that lived just a few streets away from 4 Privet Drive.

After a while, I finally heard my name called from the witch. A loud and clear "Potter, Harry" was all it took to silence the entire hall and I had hundreds of eyes boring into my back as I walked up the dais steps. I didn't realize how rickety the stool was and nearly fell over once I sat down, but managed to catch myself as soon as the hat was settled onto my head. It flattened the messy dark curls just enough to cover parts of my vision.

"Hmm, interesting, interesting," I heard inside my head. It was a bit startling, to hear a voice that wasn't yours speaking to you. 

"What seems to be so interesting?" I asked the hat.

"I'm wondering where to place you, Mr. Potter," it responded. "So many possibilities reside in you. Ravenclaw may be of your best interest. You seem to enjoy knowledge and how to use them, but you have no curiosities to drive you to truly think outside of that box. Gryffindor is another option for you as well. Lots of courage and the need to be worthy of those around you. But you don't see bravery to be the best of virtues to follow, I see... Hufflpuff would have been considered, if you felt that you needed to be loyal to those you deemed worthy of such. Only those that have been betrayed would feel such a thing, I see... So that leaves Slytherin, those who crave to follow their own set of rules, to analyse what is before them before acting so. You seem to have such qualities, but what's so interesting is your almost lack of ambition to do what you were born to be."

"I was born to be just Harry," I retaliated. I remember a few wizards and witches whispering among themselves when Hagrid and I walked through Diagon Alley. Many mentioned that the "savior of the wizarding world had finally arrived" but I just want to be Harry. I'm only eleven and already they're hoping I'd defeat the Dark Lord before I'm thirteen. "Nothing more, nothing less. Just put me in a place where I can be Just Harry."

"Just Harry? Alright, I've decided," the hat concluded, and I could hear the seems on the hat open and the Sorting Hat to finalize his decision.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Chapter Text

The Slytherin table was truly an interesting bunch once they got over the shock of receiving "the Harry Potter" for their house. Also, the thought of "the Harry Potter" going into the house filled with evil must have been shocking for everyone as well. But those that were quick to compose themselves were certainly on my good list tonight. They had politely clapped while the Slytherins quickly followed in their own way of enthusiasm -- which wasn't really that much better but some had what appeared to be grimaced smiles of pleasure.

Sitting down with the rest of the First Years, I continued to watch the rest of the Sorting until "Zabini, Blaise" was Sorted into Slytherin. Once he sat down, the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, had slowly stood up from his grand seat in the middle of the High Table and shuffled over to the golden owl podium. I recognized him immediately from the Chocolate Frog card I received on the train, though his beard looked much longer than in the rather mysterious picture, tucked a bit into the belt of his light blue robes. His eyes, from what I could tell, sparkled with a sense of mischievous behind half-moon glasses that I've never seen before on a person of his stature. The entire hall hushed to silence once the wizard rose his arms. 

"Welcome!" Dumbledore said, his voice echoing just as much as the Sorting Hat's, though not as sharp. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin a banquet, I would like to say a few words." He paused, settling his hands onto the podium before him. "And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you." 

And then he shuffled back over to his seat. I rose a brow. I had hoped to see a grand speech about how he was happy to see so many familiar faces back to school or something of the like. But considering the speech he made before the sorting....

(())

"I have a few start of term notices I wish to announce," the old wizard said after Professor McGonagall called them all to attention. Professor Dumbledore stayed behind the table. "The First Years please note that the dark forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch " - he gestured to the grumpy man that was holding the rather temperamental feline - "has asked me to remind you that the third floor corridor on the right side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death. Thank you."

And then the Headmaster sits back down. All the First Years look to each other, confused and some quite fearful. I stand back, continuing to stare at the man before my focus was returned to Professor McGonagall, who held a ratty old hat that looked like it was on it's last few days.

(())

Food began to appear once Professor Dumbledore settled into his seat and everyone began to dig in. I grabbed a few pieces of chicken and a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto my plate before any could run out. It wasn't much, but it was enough to satisfy my stomach which was still filled with the many pastries I ate on the way over. I had a few leftover Chocolate Frogs sitting in the pockets of my robes, for a midnight snack if I grew a bit hungry later. To be truthfully honest, I wasn't sure if the school would be able to feed an entirety of what I guess to be hundreds of students, but I must have guessed wrong.

I poured myself a glass of what looked to be tomato soup, though a few of the older kids mentioned that it was pumpkin juice, and I surveyed the other First Years. There was the girl that was sorted into Slytherin before me, Pansy Parkinson. She was talking rather loudly to another girl with rather bright blonde hair. I couldn't remember her name, but I swear there was a color involved somewhere. Then there was the last Slytherin to be sorted, Blaise Zabini. He was chumming it up with the blonde from the robes shop in Diagon Alley, Draco Malfoy apparently, and two other boys who looked like they could have been related if it wasn't for the fact that one was a bit more round in the face compared to the other. There was a quiet boy sitting at the end of the table, eating while looking down at the table, with a rather large girl with mousy brown hair. A few more faces were among them, but I believed that they were very young looking Second or Third Years. 

"So we finally get to match a face to the name of the famous Harry Potter," an older student commented. He was sitting across from me, arms crossed and resting on the table. He smirked, showing crooked teeth which didn't help with the rather mean look he seemed to always be giving off with his eyebrows, which almost looked ready to fold over his eyes entirely.

"It's Just Harry," I retorted. 

"What do you mean? Think you're better than everyone else because you're famous?" the boy asked, looking insulted. I frowned, confused. I shook my head.

"No. I just want to be Harry. Just Harry. I don't want to be famous. So please, just call me Harry. I see no profit to being famous," I answered as simply as I could, hoping no more questions would pop up because of it. My hope was crushed.

"What do you mean you don't wanna be famous?" Pansy suddenly asked, the conversation catching her attention. Her voice was higher than I realized, louder too, and it made others look towards me. Unwanted attention.

"I just don't. I don't see what's so special about the fact that I survived some stupid curse, anyone could do it, I'm sure," I answered, my voice small. Many seemed to freeze and looked at me as if I grew two small heads on each shoulder by accident.

"You survived a curse from the Dark Lord!" Pansy nearly shrieked. She was shushed by an older student, who had a peculiar badge upon her chest. "Not just anyone could do it! And you were a baby so that makes you all the more popular and famous!" This time, her response was much quieter, but many at the table still heard.

"So?"

"So?!" Malfoy interjected. He now seemed interested into conversing with those around him other than Zabini and the other two besides him. "Just imagine, by using that sort of power, you could get anything you wanted! Heck, you could even try getting to be the Minister of Magic if you just asked! My father says that Fudge is easy to pushover so I doubt he'd put up much of a fight if you just went up to him and said you wanted his position. Might even become your personal slave if you wanted!"

"I still don't see your point."

"Well we don't see yours," an older student commented.

"I don't want fame," I said again. "I just want to be left alone to my own devices. It's what I've always wanted to do. No chores, not having any adults breathing down my neck to do everything, and definitely no saving anything at the age eleven." I sighed. "I've read that so many people want me to save the world by the time I'm practically fourteen. I don't want to do that. To be the famous Harry Potter that everyone dreams about. But I want to be Just Harry. I just want to be considered normal."

"You're a strange one," the kid across from me finalized. I didn't say anything after that and no one brought it up either. Everyone continued to eat like the conversation never happened, though occasionally someone may ask a question to one of us, glancing over at me when something was brought up that may have been related to myself or whoever was related to me.

Professor Dumbledore stood up once more, saying something about a school song that I didn't know the words to. The song was terribly done and I wondered why he made everyone sing at a different pace and different tune if it didn't sound like a normal school song. Two twin redheads were the last ones to stop singing, a dreadful funeral march that made many quirk a smile at their antics, and soon we were all dismissed. 

Two students had gathered all of us into a group and lead us down through many hallways and stairs until we reached a blank stone wall that had torches aligned along the length on both sides of the hallway. The two Prefects, which they explained to us on our way down here, stood next to each other, their backs facing the hard surface as their attention was set upon us.

"Now this is where you must pay absolute attention," Elizabeth Poole, the Fifth Year Prefect, said. She placed her hands on her hips after tucking away a strand of hair. "Behind this wall is the Slytherin common room. If you hadn't figured that out by now, then I truly wonder how you got into this house in the first place. In any case, this wall will only open if you whisper" -she emphasized that word harshly and glared down at us as she did - "the password that will be changed every week. If you don't know, there will be a message put on the notice board inside that will have the password on for the entire week until around mid-October, when the time is shortened to the first three days."

James Barnes, the other Fifth Year, took over. "This weeks password is Domus Serpens. So try and remember that as much as possible. If you're not sure, just ask someone from our house or our Head of House, Professor Snape. At that name, I was reminded of the rather grouchy looking Professor with the curtain of greasy hair that was talking with Professor Quirell. I remember snapping my hand to massage the sudden twinge of pain that sprouted from my head once we made eye contact during dinner. When I did so, the blonde girl, Daphne Greengrass as her name was, had noticed and questioned what was wrong. I merely stated that I had a headache and asked the name of the teacher, which one of the other students supplied immediately.

"There are three sets of Prefects in each house," Poole took over once again. "There are two in Fifth year, two in Sixth, and two in Seventh. Along with those Prefects are the Head Boy and Head Girl. You are to go to them or Professor Snape if something happens that concerns our house. Understood?" Many nods were given before Poole was satisfied and turned to nod towards her Prefect-Mate. Barnes nodded back and whispered the password to the wall. 

The bricks folded back, much like the passage into Diagon Alley, to form a perfect archway that lead deeper into the dungeons. Torches burned along the walls that allowed long shadows to pass over us as we all walked down to our new home for the next ten months. The stairway wasn't too long and soon we were in a magnificent and large room. A green filter seemed to appear over the atmosphere of the room, tinting everything slightly to appear as if we were underneath a lake. Which apparently we were, for there were grand windows that showed the Black Lake's murky water and the many unique fish that occasionally swam by. There were four large black couches that face in towards each other, a black mahogany table in the middle. Desks were pushed against the walls and already a few students were sitting with large books opened and quills scratching at parchments. More torches were lit, though instead of the crimson flame that usually licked along the walls, it was replaced with a vibrant fern green blaze. The carpet was a dark grey that had intricate patterns in pitch black that seemed to hypnotize anyone who lingered long enough to be enthralled with the design. Portraits, ones that seemed to move and look curiously down at us, were aligned along the walls, which were covered in a green wallpaper that was covered in snakes curling into and along one another. Two doorways stood opposite each other, which the Prefects pointed out that one lead to the boy's dorm and the other lead to the girl's.

"Normally, Professor Snape would be here to give all you First Years a speech that would show you how to be the Slytherins you're going to have to be," Barnes said, turning all the our attention towards him once again. "But he's busy tonight with other matters so another day he will give you a repeat on what we're going to say instead."

"To be a Slytherin, is to be proud with your heritage," Poole continued. "To be a Slytherin is to accept those in your house as brethren. To be a Slytherin is not purely based on the status of our blood -- though that could merely be an added bonus -- but on how you respect one another and show those that think we're full of nothing but no good snakes that we're mature, prideful, and we take only what we need, not what we want. To be a Slytherin is to show that you can overcome anything as long as it interests you, benefits you, and allows you to be who you are, rather than what you're forced to be."

"Many will say that what happens in Slytherin stays in Slytherin," Barnes said. "That is true, but that doesn't mean that nothing can't happen outside of Slytherin. We have a bad rep on being the house that no one wants to associate with and most of us are fine with that. If you aren't, that's fine. Show them, prove to them, that we're better in a way that proves that we're more capable in producing those that aren't always evil. If you end up in a fight, that's between you, the other kid, and the professor that catches them. In no way are you responsible in keeping up the act of being mightier than others."

"If anything, this is to show that you can be anything," Poole summarized. "Go after what you want, do what you want. Keep the pride of Slytherin in your hearts, minds, body and soul. Do not tarnish the Slytherin name any further than it already is. Make it better. Make Slytherin great again. Now go to bed," she finished. "It's past your curfew now."

Everyone groaned. Their speech, which seemed a bit rehearsed but was good no matter what, disappointed everyone. Even I was pumped up to be a Slytherin. Their words kept repeating in my head.

"...to be proud with your heritage..."

"...take only what we need, not what we want..."

"....you can overcome anything as long as it interests you..."

"...allows you to be who you are, rather than what you're forced to be..."

"Make Slytherin great again."

Chapter Text

The first morning after arriving at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was uneventful. The day was a free day, which many used to sleep in. I spent my free time exploring what I could about the castle. It looked like every other castle in Scotland I've seen pictures of, except for the fact that their were living portraits and no actual kings and queens that were still somewhat in rule. Nonetheless, it was still a pretty castle. 

Despite the scene that was created the night before, all the other First Years had gathered in small groups and so I was with the rest of the Slytherins, exploring every possible nook and cranny of Hogwarts without getting lost. It was rather annoying, to be brutally honest, having about ten or so other children who acted like Dudley with an even purer silver spoon shoved in their mouth following me around the place, but by the end of the small tour I allowed myself, I was glad. I had noticed an hour or so in the sharp glares that were being thrown our way by older students and even a couple other First Years from other houses, mostly Gryffindors, and I was sure that if we were alone we'd see the hostility first hand. Traveling in groups was probably a smart thing.

Aside from the fact that it seemed that the most pompous one, Draco Malfoy, was trying to show off his extreme wealth and stability in the Wizarding community, I learned more about the other First Years in my house I was sure none of the others were going to ever try to see. They only told truthful things about themselves when they were sure it was just the handful of us in a corridor and no one else was around aside from the paintings.

Like the fact that Daphne Greengrass had a fear of being left alone for too long, a truth we found out when she was too busy looking at one of the paintings with a unicorn and panicked before running towards Millicent Bulstrode once she did manage to catch up to us. And that Theodore Nott was almost as blind as me, though he doesn't use his glasses in public unless it was truly necessary. He preferred sticking a nose in his book, but multiple times one of the others in our group had to pull him away from bumping into something even though he was looking straight at it.

One of the more interesting things I noticed was that every one of them knew the other. I was the outcast that was begrudgingly being welcomed into their small pack through the sheer luck of just being a Slytherin. They acted cruelly when one of their own was called out upon by an outsider on one of the few occasions that had happened the day before. They looked out for each other, even if they held some form of grudge. 

Then it was the next morning.

I figured today would be no different. I was one of the first to wake up, grasping out for my glasses and setting them messily on the bridge of my nose. Looking around, I focused on trying to figure out what was going on in the first place. Already Malfoy was putting on his school robes, his immaculate hair slicked back though his snooty look was wiped from his face. I knew it would be set back once we left the common room.

Goyle and Crabbe were still sleeping away, some of Goyle's sheets resting on the floor as he snored up at the ceiling of the four poster bed. Zabini and Nott were about as awake as I was, though I was sure they wouldn't be getting out of bed anytime soon. Sighing, I pulled myself from the warmth of my sheets and began to get ready for the first day myself. As I was pulling out my own robes I noticed that my uniform's tie, which was black and had the Hogwarts crest at the top, had changed to that of Slytherin, a rich emerald with a soft silver dancing between the bold shade. Setting the clothes aside onto my bed, I took off my night clothes and got dressed, messily tying the new tie and glancing down at my Slytherin badge for a second, proud, and stuffed my wand in one of the pockets provided in my robes.

After that I tried messing with my unruly curls, though the brush just made it worse, like always, and I sighed again and tossed it back with the rest of my things and did the rest of my daily routine without it, including going to the First Year's conjoined bathroom. Once that was done, I stuffed what books I thought I'd need into my bag before slinging it across my shoulders and prepared to leave the dorm room.

Until Draco Malfoy, already primped and dressed for the visit of the Muggle queen, stopped me.

"You seriously think we're going to allow you out of the common room dressed like that?" he sneered, sounding more offended than he looked. Zabini had finally left the comfort of his bed and escaped into the bathroom, leaving me alone with a sleepy Nott and a sneering Malfoy. Brilliant.

"I'm wearing what you're wearing. I don't see what's wrong with it," I muttered, looking down at my uniform and then back at his. "Is it my hair? Because that's about as good as it's gonna get, Malfoy."

"Please," Draco snorted. "I knew your hair was going to be a lost cause as soon as I saw that poor brush of yours. But it's not that. You're dressed as if you want people to look down on you. Who bloody raised you to dress like a commoner?"

"Muggles, mostly."

"Of course they did." Mafoy rolled his eyes, as if he knew the answer already but didn't believe it, and strode up to me before tugging at my clothes. I tried to pry his fingers off, a bit disturbed at his sudden show of care towards me when the other day he was ready to sock me for just rejecting his hand, but after he slapped away my hands, he continued with his work. He fixed my tie, tucking it behind the dark grey sweater vest, and adjusted the dark cloak so that it wasn't hanging haphazardly off my shoulders. He stood back, surveying his work for a few seconds before nodding.

"It will do until we find someone to teach you how to dress yourself."

"I don't care how I dress, really," I blanched.

"You will soon. Or else you're going to be the laughing stock of the entire house."

From there he turned his back and I shuffled awkwardly out of the dorm and towards the Great Hall. I saw Barnes with a stack of paper, handing a sheet to Parkinson before handing another similar one to a Third Year and repeating that action with other students. When I sat down and got myself a bowl of porridge, a piece of parchment was thrusted into my face before I could eat. 

Grabbing it, I looked to see Poole's back as she went to hand Nott, who managed to get here before Zabini and Malfoy (and no doubt Crabbe and Goyle), a copy as well. Nott sat down next to me, squinting a bit to read what it was before shrugging and shoving it into a rather fancy looking bag besides him before he grabbed an apple and began to read. I looked myself and noted it was a timetable for our year. All First Years, as was explained to us the morning before, shared their classes together. Though, when you got older, some will take more advanced classes and the classes would either seem smaller or bigger, depending if you have younger or older years in your new classes.

The first class was Transfiguration, with Professor McGonagal, then Potions and Charms. Tomorrow would be Herbology, History of Magic, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I cringed at having Quirrell to see at the end of the day, until I noted that Astronomy happened every night but Wednesdays and Fridays. A quick side note mentioned flying lessons were to begin in October, but the day was until then undecided.

Let the start of term begin.

Chapter Text

It was strange how people seemed to have gravitated towards me during the first few weeks of the term. Some were painfully obvious, such as the Slytherin first years, and some seemed very strange. To me, at least.

Malfoy seemed to have made it his priority to make sure I was dressed to his standards before I even stepped foot out of our dorm. Zabini, who seemed to be the only one fully functioning by this time, had a laugh every single morning at Malfoy's face each time he tackled the mess on my head. The other first year boys in our house made a bet, with myself included for it had me in the equation, on when he'd just give up trying to fix the tangles that decided to be known as my hair. The others weren't as demanding but they were good acquaintances, but still annoying to a degree.

What was interesting were the few that had managed to, dare I say, slither into the small circle of mutuals I had made over the weeks. Hermione Granger, a rather brash Ravenclaw who had a knack for being the first to answer the question to the fullest degree, had been one of the surprises. It had happened so suddenly that if I didn't already know where she belonged I would have thought I had missed her in my own common room. She had slowly made herself known, though whether it was intentional or not was unbeknownst to me, during a few rounds in the library or a small partnering project that we were forced to endure during a lesson. If anything, I felt that we had connected to be close enough to be considered friends, even. But it was highly doubtful she'd even consider such a thing, with the entire Slytherin status and terrible rumors already being passed around.

Another had been shy Hufflepuff Neville Longbottom, a rather chubby boy who seemed to fail in almost every class except for Herbology. This one I knew he couldn't have done without help, so I knew it was by accident and it was entirely my fault. Not saying that the lad was entirely a nuisance, as Professor Snape seems to think, but rather someone I wouldn't have really considered to be entirely important in my life. If I hadn't let slip about Aunt Petunia's (or really, mine, since I worked on it the most) rose bushes and the other Muggle flowers, Neville wouldn't have, most likely, given into thought that I was approachable. But, I also wasn't trying too hard not to be.

Lastly, which wasn't really a good thing in the end, was Ronald "Ron" Weasley. In my defense, he was the one that started most of what the older students considered a "friendly dispute". I call that "putting it lightly". I had merely bumped into him on my way to Potions on the third day being at Hogwarts, and soon I was being yelled at and was nearly blinded by a fist flying at my face. To say I was confused would have been an understatement.

Which brings me to a rather strange situation. I had never been well-liked as a kid, though I still think that was all Dudley's fault rather than mine, but that meant I didn't have a lot of friends growing up at the Dursley's. Correction: I didn't have any friends. Acquaintances, yes, but reserved for working on group projects that I made sure stayed at their house rather than mine. So I had never been surrounded by those that had actually wanted to be near me.

And sitting near the black lake with a grumbling Malfoy, a stiff Hermione and a shaking Neville wasn't something I was prepared for. Well, the grumbling from Malfoy was to be expected, for he grumbled at everything.

"Why exactly are you here if I seem to annoy you so much!" Hermione snapped.

And there continues the argument I've been trying to ignore.

"I have to make sure that Potter makes the right decisions outside of Slytherin common rooms. Seeing as you're here, I'm trying to fix his mistake, Mudblood," Malfoy growled back. Both were sitting on opposite side but wore matching expressions. Neville and I were the poor saps sitting between them both, hopefully never getting into the crossfire.

I felt Neville stiffen besides me as soon as the curse escaped Malfoy's lips. I rose a brow as a response but kept silent. I have no idea what that word was supposed to signify, but at the moment, I did not care. I just wanted to relax on the one homework free Friday we've had since the first week of school.

"Excuse me?!" shrilled Hermione. I watched as she slammed her book shut, her dark curls seeming to poof more as she bristled with anger and hurt. "What did you call me?"

"Mudblood. That's what you are. Filth!" Malfoy returned. He wore a smug look as he looked down upon her, almost looking like a carbon copy of Professor Snape, if it weren't for their obvious differences in appearance.

"I-I-" Neville tried to interject but quickly shut his mouth at the dirty look both gave him. He shrunk back, bumping into me but he didn't seem to notice. I didn't move.

"I don't see any dirt on Granger," I said, looking at Hermione's immaculate clothes. "Maybe some dust but that's probably it."

"Harry," Hermione said, her voice strained. "That's not what he meant."

"Of course not. If I simply called you dirty, that would have been too much of a compliment for the likes of you."

"Oh, so it's a slur," I muttered.

"Correct." Hermione looked as if someone vomited on her shoes. "A rather rude and terrible one for something that is seriously so childish."

"But it is needed to show that Purebloods are on the top of the Wizarding food chain," smirked Draco. "If we didn't, you'd think you'd have the rights to do anything you so pleased. Which is laughable."

Hermione was red in the face, looking as if she wanted to punch the smug look of his pretty boy face.

"That seems kinda silly," I hummed. I stared at the black lake, catching the ripples that the legendary squid (or so legend says) created, ignoring the three sets of stares in my direction. "There seems to be so few wizards in the world already and many seem to want to discriminate those that were gifted into escaping the cruel world of Muggles. It doesn't help that the ratio of Purebloods seems less than fifty years ago compared to Half-bloods and Muggleborns that have been appearing every year. If anything, the Muggleborns are in the middle, with the Half-bloods at the top and Purebloods at the bottom, if we went by population."

"Exc-" I cut Malfoy off.

"But then again, the same could be said about Wizards and Muggles. If we're so superior, why are there more people with no magic than those with magic? That just doesn't seem fair. That's like being at the Dursleys all over again -- three Muggles for every Wizard or Witch. But if you keep saying the Purebloods are at the top, that separates the other three -- yes, Malfoy, I'm including Squibs -- away from them and sets Muggles in their own groupings. Leaving all the Purebloods to be lynched easier... That just doesn't seem fair."

"I've forgotten how morbid you can be once you open your mouth, Potter," Malfoy blanched.

"Which is something I must agree with, sadly," Hemerione mumbled.

"Don't even think you're on my level, filth!"

"Oh dear," Neville whimpered besides me. "There they go again."

"Let them," I said, taking out one of the books I borrowed from the library. "As long as they don't get into a brawl, they'll be fine. They just need to work out their feelings towards each other."

"But what if they do start to fight?"

"Then you just have to stop them, of course."

"E-EH?"

Chapter Text

I glanced up from my Charms homework, eyes wandering over the large amount of books that surrounded me on tall shelves before I settled onto the boy sitting directly in front of me. He had shown up only a few minutes after Hermione left to get more books for herself, leaving me alone.

Blaise Zabini wasn't a terrible companion to have around. In fact, I probably preferred to have him in my company over Malfoy, who was starting to get more and more cranky each time Hermione was even a foot near me. But it was was still unnerving to be around anyone, despite it nearing October already.

"Is there something you needed, Zabini?" I asked, setting down my quill. He had been sitting there, doing nothing, the entire time and it obviously meant he was here for something. Why else would he be here?

"Not really. Just felt like hanging around somewhere other than the common room. The girls have been hanging around there more and more and their nonstop giggling is getting annoying," he replied. He propped his head against his head, looking about nonchalantly.

I rolled my eyes. "What's the other reason why you're here? Surely it can't just be because Parkinson and the girls have been 'nonstop giggling' about the common room. Did Malfoy send you here to make sure I wasn't sucking up to Granger?"

"There may have been some words passed to me about that," Blaise admitted. He shrugged his shoulders. "But I didn't give it much thought. If Malfoy really feels threatened over a silly little thing like blood status, then he can feel paranoid about it by himself. Gives me less of a headache."

"What doesn't give you a headache?" a new voice asked. Hermione rounded the corner, a large stack of books in her arms. She carried them as if they weighed nothing, and set them on the table with a large slam. I winced at the noise, pushing back any memories that resurfaced and returned to the real world. "I mean, it seems that giggling girls, Malfoy's relentless whining, and being bothered to even look at a parchment of homework is on that large list of yours."

"Well, I certainly don't mind being around Harry," the dark skinned boy admitted. "He's quiet and unannoying-"

"That's not even a word."

"- and that's certainly a quality I look for in a companion. Having good looks is a plus. Harry might drag in some of the ladies when he's older and if he's not interested, he can send them my way," Blaise finished. He ignored Hermione's interruption and her disgusted look.

"So you're just using me?" I asked, raising a brow. "And I thought we were coming onto a mutual understanding called friendship. How my wounds bleed over your harsh cutting words and pour onto the cut ties that had binded us so. No more shall I grieve over the lost attention that I felt worthy enough to receive from my so called companion who will never see me the way I see him."

"Oh don't be so sarcastic, Potter," Blaise muttered, rolling his eyes. "Or dramatic."

"What are those books for Hermione?" I asked, turning the subject at hand. I eyed her stack of books, noticing a common theme in her study of choice.

"I'm researching everything I can about flying on broomsticks from the wizarding perspective before tomorrow's flying lesson. I want to be fully prepared for any pop quizzes that may arise during the period." Hermione lifted her nose high as if that was basic knowledge.

"It's a flying lesson, Granger," Blaise sighed," not a basic core class. It's not like the instructor will have desks out on the grounds with a test and a No-Cheat quill just laying besides it for a quiz we don't even study for."

"That's what you think," Hermion sniffed, squaring her shoulders. "You Slytherins, always only going as far as you feel you need to. I bet if there is a quiz, you'll score lower than Ronald Weasley."

"Oh, how hurt I feel," Zabini sighed, slapping a hand to his chest. "To be dumber than a Weasley. Surely I must be lower than scum to even be on that level."

"If you're both going to fight," I interrupted, "could you please do it somewhere else. I'm actually trying to use the library as a library, not a poetry battle. I believe there's an empty room for that on the fifth corridor by the Ravenclaw tower." I picked up my quill and attempted to continue what I was assigned.

"That things not due until next week," Blaise said. He pulled the parchment away from me before I could put ink to paper and held it above him, tauntingly. I suppressed more memories that threatened to leak through the barriers. "I bet not even a Ravenclaw has gotten this far."

"Oh, I've already finished," Hermione butted in. Her chest puffed out and she tucked a strand of curly hair behind her ear during her moment of pride. "It was fairly easy."

"I know. I finished it too," Blaise said, shrugging his shoulders. "But surely Harry won't need to finish it any time soon. Our next class starts in ten minutes."

Sighing, I wished I was left alone during the free period. Maybe then I could have gotten my work done.

***

After a rather stressful Potions class with Neville nearly blowing his face off if I didn't pull him back in time before the explosion and an equally stressful lunch (Malfoy was trying to show off his Quidditch knowledge and was being a prat about it), all the first years of Slytherin went down to the court yards where Madame Hooch was waiting for all of us. Gryffindor came stumbling down only a few minutes later.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she asked, frowning. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

I noticed that there were twenty broomsticks lined up nearly perfect, ten on each side. It seemed that meant that Slytherin went on one side and Gryffindors lined up on the other. I was situated (quite harshly, by the way) between Mafloy and Blaise, the latter giving me a quick smile before slipping the usual Slytherin mask on.

Madame Hooch walked down the aisle of brooms to the other side, where she stood at attention. "Stick out your right hand over your broom and say 'Up!'"

Looking down at my broom, which looked like it's been through better times, I put my hand out and paused. The others around me were already calling for their brooms, some coming up automatically and others waiting around until they felt like it. 

Blaise and Malfoy's had already come up on their first try, but some, like Pansy and Weasley, had a harder time getting it into their hands. In fact, Weasley's had lifted and whacked him harshly in the nose, which got a few to snicker at his predicament.

"Aren't you going to try and get your broom, Potter?" Malfoy sneered, raising a groomed brow. "Surely you aren't feeling scared. That's not a very Slytherin trait."

"I don't really see the point of this," I muttered. "What use does this have with flying. If we say 'Up' -" at this point, the broom launched off the ground and into my hand, nearly knocking me over" - at any random time, let's say in the John, would it come to us anyways? Or is it only to show off what little magic we can do without a wand and never being able to do it again. Cause it seems utterly useless."

"This is why we can't have nice things, Potter," Malfoy sighed. "You simply can't just enjoy the ability of creating magic? You could have been a Squib you know. Useless and unwanted. Would you have preferred that?"

"If I was a Squib, my parents would still be alive."

"That might be true," Blaise piped in. "But it might not. You could have been a miracle Squib and still managed to survive the wrath of the Dark Lord."

"Either way, you'd still be famous."

"But I just want to be Harry. Why can't you understand that?"

"I won't understand what you don't understand," Malfoy grunted. "Like, seriously, how are you a Slytherin?"

"How are you tolerable," I snapped back. Malfoy looked ready to send a snarky remark back, but Madame Hooch interrupted to finish her lesson. I was glad nothing bad happened during the lesson. I remember Neville getting a Remembrall (whatever that is) and Malfoy was tempted to steal and humiliate the poor Hufflepuff only earlier this morning. I'm sure, with Neville's luck, there would have been broken bones and a terrible consequence to one of us if he was in our lesson at all. 

When it finished, Madame Hooch let us go early and I started to head off the field and wander the hallways near Charms.

"Wait up Harry!" I paused, looking behind me to see Blaise running to catch up. Behind him, Malfoy was grumbling something underneath his breath as he followed with Pansy clutching his arm.

"What?"

"What? I can't walk with you to Charms?"

"Why are you interested in doing so?"

"We're friends, right?" he asked, crossing his arms in front of him. "We should walk to classes all the time."

"Friends?"

"Yeah. You've had friends before, right?"

"No, not really," I said, tugging at the straps to my book bag (well, it was one of Dudley's old ones he never used so I stole it to make it my own). "My cousin wasn't very nice and scared all the kids away and made life miserable. Those who weren't scared of him were his friends and helped with Harry Hunting."

Blaise looked at me like I grew another head. "Harry Hunting?"

"Oh yes. They thought it was a really fun game."

"Harry, what's Harry Hunting?"

I didn't answer.

"Harry?"

"Malfoy, why are you following us?" I asked, peering behind me. Malfoy was closer and he looked about ready to chew his arm off. Pansy was looking as if she smelled the most delicious chocolate after years of being on a diet. I ignored the look Zabini was giving me as I sidestepped his question.

"We're going to the same class, Potter. Why else?"

"Well, it's annoying."

"You're annoying."

Chapter Text

I realized early on that being in the Wizarding World after living in the Muggle World would be a hard process to understand what to get used to and what to not. For one thing, quills were a pain in the butt to learn how to hold properly and I was tempted to steal one of Dudley's old pens and bring it back to Hogwarts just so I wouldn't end up having ink stains on my hands and the sleeves of my robes after trying to attempt at creating an essay. Another thing is, mainly in my case, the looks that are sent my way through various people. Occasionally it's just a ghost passing by and believing I was my father (which I learned more about after one mistakened me for my father and Hermione was the one to explain to me who he was in the first place by going to the trophy case), but that I could easily slide past me. When you're basically immortal and dead, what's the use of actually paying attention to time when it doesn't exist?

But it was strange when you received odd looks from your potions professor while brewing. 

Professor Snape was an odd bloke, considering he looked like he's skipped on too many showers that would have Aunt Petunia in a fit. His long dark hair was greasy, his nose large and hooked, and he sneered at anyone and anything that crossed his path. He was extremely harsh for a professor, though I do have to give him so credit to that. If he wasn't, I'm sure there would be many more students being sent to the infirmary due to misuse of a potion ingredient. But he was a giant ass, as Uncle Vernon would put it. That's the nicest way he would be able to explain it in front of children, at least. But that wasn't what made him peculiar. 

At times, the professor looked like he swallowed an entire lemon whole and drank a bottle of firewhiskey soon after. While I haven't tasted the alcoholic drink myself, I've heard from a few 6th years that it was like a harsh burn falling down your throat and was much worse than normal Muggle drinks. 

In any case, it wasn't as if it were hindering my ability to function. Yes, occasionally looking up to check and make sure you got the notes down just right and seeing that look directed towards you, full speed ahead, was unnerving. And yes, when you realize that he only looks that way at you, it makes it even worse, but when you pretend he's looking besides you or behind you, the feeling slowly ebbs away into a dull ache at the back of your head and you continue trying to make some use of whatever potions was good for.

"H-Harry! The potion's boiling over!" a voice squeaked. I quickly turned off the burner and pushed Longbottom back as we waited for the ruined potion to cool down or explode. It wasn't much longer until I could hear the swish of heavy robes heading in our direction and the long face and hooked nose of Professor Snape was in front of us. He immediately sneered down at the sorry excuse of our muck.

"It seems that your attempt on creating something so simple has slipped passed any cognitive thought that remains in your head, Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom," the Head of Slytherin drawled out. "Surely you wrote down the instructions carefully, read them twice before gathering ingredients and proceeded to follow directions precisely? Or did you simply feel that your fame was enough to get you far in my class, for if you did think that, you are wrong."

"I apologize Professor," I said, cutting off whatever Longbottom decided to stammer out," but I was thinking and carelessly left Neville, who is already nervous about being in the same room as you, take care of watching our potion. If one should take the blame, sir, let me."

"Mr. Potter, being heroic does nothing to alleviate any form of punishment for reckless behavior. 5 points from Hufflepuff and a detention for you, Mr. Potter," Snape droned, looking down at at us and walked off wish a swish of his robes, though I managed to catch a quick look of the sour firewhiskey again.

"I-I'm sorry Harry!" Neville stuttered, shaking in his seat as he tried his best to clean up our mess. "I tried, honest! But I'm terrible at potions and Professor Snape scares me..." The brunette boy continued to shake and I had the feeling that if he continued to do that, he would slowly shake out of his own clothes.

"It's not your fault entirely," I said, bluntly. "Next time just tell me a little sooner and we could have avoided an awkward encounter with the Bat of the Dungeon." I took the rag from Longbottom. "Why don't you get more ingredients and we can start again. You have lunch after this, right?" The Hufflepuff nodded. "Well, we'll take up some lunch time to get it completed correctly this time and see if we can get some points back."

"You really want to do that?" 

"It's my grade too, you know..."

"Oh, right..."

***

Later that week, after detention, I was cornered on the way to the Slytherin common room by Zabini and Granger, who had been following me for the past few corridors. It wasn't hard to figure out that their person of interest was myself, considering that every time I looked back they would either hide or make it look like they were taking a casual stroll together and awkwardly smiled and waved before slowly continuing behind me. I had grown tired of this poorly made Cat-and-Mouse play and purposely got the three of them lost until I found a dead-end.

Turning, I crossed my arms and waited for the two heads of dark hair to pop around the corner. It only took a few seconds and once the two realized I was waiting for them, they skid to a halt.

"Hullo, Harry..." Granger said weakly, raising a hand. 

"Seems like we can't shake you off, can we Harry," Zabini continued, a poorly made smirk plastered on his face. 

"You two are seriously worse than my own cousin at this game," I said, raising a brow. "At least he can catch on when I know he's following me and can lie better than both of you combined. Which I'm disappointed in. I thought Granger the Great and Zabini the Silver-Tongued could do something much better than this."

"Zabini the Silver-Tongued, huh?" the dark skinned Slytherin muttered. "I like the sound of that..."

"Speaking of your cousin, Harry," Hermione pushed, glaring over at the distracted boy besides her," we wanted to talk to you about your family."

"We've already covered this subject a few weeks ago," I said. "If you forgot I can summarize what we discussed, if you'd like. Your Muggle parents are both dentists and you've been reading books since the age of four. Zabini's mother has a curse that seems to kill all of his step-fathers and even his own so she lives at home, and despite what many believe, she has quite the fiery personality. And I live with my Muggle relatives and go to school. There, we've talked and now I'd like to really go back to my common room and finish my homework before a teacher comes by and realizes we're out past curfew."

Hermione's eyes widened at that and before she could react to my words, Blaise cut in. 

"We, well, I, wanted to ask you what 'Harry Hunting' was. You never answered last time I asked."

"And I believe the reason why you won't confess is because of past and present child abuse that is clearly much to present in all families, Muggle and Magical alike, these days," Hermione continued, thought she still had the nervous look in her eyes. 

"My family life is fine."

"Then explain 'Harry Hunting'."

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" a loud voice yelled. It echoed the halls and alerted all three of us. Peeves, the resident ghost of trickery at Hogwarts, rounded the corner and grinned maliciously. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Immediately, the three of us ran, gladly being pulled by the other when they knew one of us was going the wrong direction and soon we rounded to another dead end, where only one door was present. We slammed into it, Zabini and I trying desparately at jiggling the knob and trying to get in before Mrs. Norris or Filch, who we could hear stomping near us, got any closer.

"Oh, move over!" Hermione ordered, shoving the two of us away. She took out her wand from her robe and, in a fluid motion, tapped the lock and whispered something I couldn't grasp as she tugged us into the dark room. Quietly, we pressed ourselves against the door and listened intently to the other side and waited.

Filch growled and Mrs. Norris was sounding pretty miffed as well, but in a few minutes footsteps were heard walking away and Peeve's cackling followed soon after. 

Sighing, I relaxed and looked around the room we were in, curious. Well, it was actually sort of a corridor, rather than a room. And it didn't exactly hold paintings of wizards long dead or piles of armor that the school didn't have room to show off. It actually held a rather big dog with three heads. Unhappy three heads, that is.

"Erm, Granger?" I called out, not daring to take my eyes off of the monstrous dog in front of me. I didn't hear a response so I called to her again, this time including Blaise, who both gasped once I managed to get their attention. "You do see the giant Cerberus in the room, right? I didn't hit my head trying to escape another detention, right?"

"Merlin, we need to go! Now!" Blaise yelled, and he grabbed both Hermione and I and we booked it once more, and I swear I narrowly missed the clashing teeth of the head on the left trying to have a taste of Harry Potter souffle. 

Chapter Text

There seemed to seriously be some form of miscommunication between first years for Hermione Granger and Blaise Zabini to not understand that I do not care about the giant ass dog that happened to be on the forbidden third floor. If that's the case, then it makes sense why they're so demanding of my attention on the matter.

"Harry, we seriously have to talk about what happened that night!" Hermione exclaimed. She had me cornered in the library, Blaise standing behind her with his arms crossed and a frown on his face. "There is no way someone could ignore the Cerberus like you're trying to do!"

"Granger, as long as it doesn't attack me I don't really care if it's there or not." I tried to move past her, hugging my books closer to my body, but I was blocked further as she spread her legs and Zabini moved in closer to block the other way. I sighed in frustration.

"As much as I'd like to agree and ignore the giant three headed dog" -- he was interrupted by Hermione who corrected him and said "Cerberus" -- "there is no reasonable reason as to why there's a freaking large ass dog in our school." The Slytherin crossed his arms and leant casually against the bookshelf. Despite the air of cool disinterest, I could see the unease and agitation just crawling underneath his skin.

"Well obviously it's guarding something," Granger muttered, rolling her eyes. "Why else would there be a trap door underneath it's incredibly large paw?" She stated this as if it were common knowledge and a bit of her attitude irked me. I was tempted to tell her that her obnoxious opinions would one day backfire and send her crying in a girl's lavatory but decided it wasn't worth the scowl and rant that was sure to come directly afterwards. 

"I was more worried about the three large heads growling down at us to be worried about what it's standing on, Granger," Zabini grumbled back. 

I sighed and decided enough was enough and pushed my way past the Ravenclaw so I could finally set my books down at a table and continue my work. "Don't worry about it then, Zabini. Your family's practically neutral in everything so whatever that Cerberus is guarding shouldn't be on your mind at all." I could hear the two follow me as I talked. "And Granger, shouldn't you be worrying about your grades? It's a little suspicious that someone so prim and proper with the rules would want to be curious about a three headed dog from Greek myths guarding something obviously important in the school?" I couldn't see their expressions but a part of me was hoping they would be offended enough to leave me alone for the rest of my life.

"W-Why, I think that, while being expelled may be worse than death, I should at least get answers as to why there's a Cerberus on school grounds! Like, at my old school they'd let us know about the precautions bein--"

I interrupted her, slamming my books down on the table in a huff. "The dog is probably guarding something that's obviously important to Voldemort, you idiots," I heatedly whispered. Both of them flinched, Zabini more so than Granger as he lived in this world longer than the Muggleborn. "Why else would this be the first weird occurrence going on at this freaking school? I mean, from the upperclassmen the weirdest thing is the constant changing of DADA professors and the once in a while small smiles from Snape that make them think that he's had a stroke of some kind. But as soon as I'm here, suddenly there's a three headed dog on the third floor, the rivalries between Gryffindor and Slytherin are at it's worst, and my head of house has become even more odd than he already was. A four year old could figure this out!"

Granger looked absolutely shocked at this and Zabini looked as if he was thinking about it too hard. If I wasn't annoyed I would have snickered at the hilarious faces they were providing me. I might inquire about a pensieve at some point just so I can see about reliving this precious moment of hilarity. 

"That does seem rather odd..." Zabini finally admitted. Finally, something that made sense coming out of this boys mouth. 

Granger spoke in question, "What do you mean?" The Ravenclaw looked genuinely curious at this, no longer looking quite as hurt as she did only seconds ago. 

"Well, Malfoy's family holds a social gala biannually and invites all the purebloods and high ranking half-bloods." Granger gave a sniff of indignation at that comment but Zabini and I ignored it. "So that means that every winter break and every summer there's a gathering of all the social elites (yes, even the Weasley's are invited but they don't come because of some rivalry between the two lords or whatever). And that means all of us younger years get tips and social standing early before we go to Hogwarts or any of the other schools. I've talked to some and they've never mentioned anything as crazy as this. Not anything that wasn't quidditch related."

Granger thought on that for a few seconds before she brightened and jumped in with a rebound statment and the beginning of a debate. "But what if they've never noticed!"

"Granger, you seriously think that a bunch of teenagers, especially the loner ones, wouldn't come out saying to their parents at some point in their schooling years that there was something weird going on at school?"

"It would be bad on their part if they tell their parents and they tell the school board only to find out it wasn't true, Blaise!" Granger refuted. "You even said it yourself, they're social elites. It would be bad on their records once they left school if they accused the Headmaster of having something so dangerous in the schools and it got out in the papers, only to have someone come in and find out it's been a lie, even though the problem had been removed."

"Be as that may, it's highly unlikely, even for Dumbledore," I cut in. "The Hogwarts Board of Governors would surely see it, especially since Draco Malfoy's own father is apart of it." I opened a book as I finally sat down and tried to read, but was, once again, interrupted. Rude.

"How do you know that?"

"Ugh. Know what?"

"Know that Malfoy's dad is apart of the Board of Governors?"

I rolled my eyes. "It's practically written all over him. Plus, he's even said," I changed my voice to be slightly higher and more pompous," My father is apart of the Board of Governors for this school. If he finds out that I've had to do something as easy as this, he'll have to go all the way to change the curriculum to match Durmstrang's, which is where he wanted me to go in the first place!" 

Granger and Zabini gave a little snort, though the former quickly hid it behind her hands and flushed darkly. I couldn't help the small smile slip on my face but I wiped it off as quickly as it came. 

"He does sorta sound like that."

"But what do you think You-Know-Who needs that Hogwarts has to hide it?" Granger questioned, quickly going back to the earlier topic. Whatever mirth was there was gone.

"I dunno? The philosopher's stone? A potion that grants overwhelming power? A pamphlet that shows him the way out of my life forever so I can finally live in peace?" I said sarcastically.

"That's it!" Granger jumped, clapping her hands, eyes going wide as a large grin was stretching across her face. 

"What, the pamphlet? There's actually a pamphlet?"

"No, Harry! The philosopher's stone! It's so obvious!"

"Okay, now I'm confused," Zabini said, slumping down on a chair besides me. "What does the philosopher's stone have to do with bringing back You-Know-Who?"

"To be honest I didn't know it existed. Just thought it was some Muggle myth about alchemy," I admitted. "You know, like in books or whatever."

Granger ran her hands through her curly hair, pacing in front of us while muttering, though it slowly raised in volume and the two of us could now understand what she was saying.

"--and then he'd drink it and gain immortality to continue rising in power, but then he'd have to continue drinking it or have it with him!"

"Granger, you've lost us."

"He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named," she began," is going to look for the stone so he could be immortal like he's always planned!"

"How do you know he wants to be immortal?" I asked. "We've never really been given his reason for power other than killing muggles and muggleborns and blood traitors."

"Well, a power hungry lord like him wouldn't entrust his kingdom to someone else, Harry. He'd want to find a way to live forever and still have power over everyone. He can't really be powerful and still have magic if he died and just became a ghost. A poltergeist, maybe, but he'd still won't have any magic. I thought you said a four year old could figure this out!" Hermione looked smug. 

"I said they could figure out what a Cerberus was doing here, not Voldemort's plan to take over the world."

"In any case, it was said that Nicholas Flamel, the creator of the philosopher's stone, and his wife (who, by the way, are over six-hundred years old!) gave up the stone to someone close to them and are finally going to have peace after living so long." Hermione stopped pacing and placed her hands down on the table. "Do you know who that someone is??"

"Dumbledore..." Zabini muttered. His brows were furrowed as he put his thinking face on once again. "Now it's making sense."

"Exactly."

I sighed and crossed my arms against the surface of the table, laying my head on it. "Now that we have that figured out, does that mean we can stop worrying about a giant dog in the castle?"

"Well, it's not like we can tell anyone about the stone being under a giant dog's foot... Though, I think it'll be real easy to get past it."

I thought about it for a while. If I were the keeper of my enemy's only source of living, I wouldn't just leave it under one obstacle. Like, if I had the chance to hide a slice of Dudley's favourite cake, just to torture him, I would have him do an military approved exercise routine, a read aloud of War and Peace, and then a spelling bee just so he could get just a small crumb with a dot of frosting. It would be marvelous.

"The teachers probably made obstacles for him, or whoever's here to get it for him."

Granger nodded, relaxing and sitting down on the table. "If Professor  Dumbledore has it, that means he probably made them do something they're good at. But that also means he has suspicions about one of them too..."

"Probably made sure it was also easy enough for a kid to do it too..." Zabini muttered.

"Now you've lose me, Blaise..." Granger admitted. "Why would Professor Dumbledore have a student go through it?" 

All the Slytherin did was look at me. It took me a few moments to realize what he was getting at and I felt angry. Not entirely at him but at everything. I'm only 11 years old and if Zabini's correct, than a grown wizard, many of them in fact, will believe that I would be able to do this on my own. To defeat a guy that couldn't get past whatever my parents did to kill me. It seems all wizards are idiots...

"You can't be serious."

"I wouldn't joke about this, Harry."

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuck..."

"Harry! Language!"

"Granger, let him swear this one time, please!"

Chapter Text

I was left alone by the time Winter Break rolled around. I had watched Granger and Zabini (unwillingly, by the way) leave with the rest of the students on the carriages to the station where they'd head back home to their family's for the rest of the year. Even Draco Malfoy left, though he gave me a rather long speech about how I'd better dress myself properly even if there aren't many people around yada yada yada. I didn't bother paying attention after a couple of sentences.

To be completely honest... I was a little sad to see the three of them go. It was... nice... to have people go out of their way to hang out with me without Dudley or my other relatives chasing them away. Not that I'll let them know that any time soon. It's hard enough to admit it to myself!

I didn't realize how silent my day was until nearly the entire school was gone. Especially those in the Slytherin common rooms. I think I was the only one to actually stay for the winter break. If anyone else were here they obviously didn't show themselves when I went down. One would think they'd take this opportunity to get down and dirty in the common room, just for the thrills. After that thought, I shuddered. If they were here and I don't know, I don't think I'll sit on the couches until everyone else comes back.

The first few days were okay. I mostly stayed in the dorms or the library, working on the homework that was due after break. At times I'd leave to walk around outside to get some exercise, my motivation into never looking or ending up like Dudley as his form of exercise is competitive eating. That meant that I got to not only see the Weasley twins (Fred and George, if I overheard correctly) throw charmed snowballs at the back of Quirrell's turband and get detention for it. It was very enjoyable.

By the time Christmas rolled around, I didn't expect much to happen that was particularly exciting. I was, happily, proved wrong.

I had received four presents, all laid out on my trunk at the base of my bed. It wasn't much but it still was very surprising. One from Granger (a bag of sugerfree candy from the muggle world and a rather thoughtful card), one from Zabini (an invitation to visit him over the summer when he was in Italy along with a super soft {and possibly expensive} pillow made in Rome) and one from Malfoy (who had just sent me a crystal wizard chess set meant for me to practice on so I'd "get better for the next year"). What really boggled me, though, was the final package with no name. Inside was a rather curious cloak that, after I tried it on, made my entire body invisible?! Holy crap! That's freaking awesome! Just think, I could have so used this when I was trying to hide from Dudley whenever Harry Hunting was involved. That doofus wouldn't even know what hit him!

A note fell out:

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.

A Very Merry Christmas to you.

How curious. My own father had an invisibility cloak? How no one knew this must mean that this was a particularly well kept secret. For I'm sure that there would have been some mention of this in biography books, in his own vault or even Hagrid (who did, in fact, take me from my relatives to take me to this world), who apparently knew my parents. 

Oh well. I got a freaking cool cloak!

I don't remember if I left the common room until dinner, which I spent with what was left of the Weasleys, the small group of other students that stayed behind due to unknown reasons to myself, and the professors. Of those I was particularly found of Professor Sinistra, the astronomy professor. Despite only seeing her at midnight, usually on Wednesdays, she wasn't like the other teachers. She didn't push students for homework but she wasn't a pushover either. Tonight her rich dark hair, which was normally in a thick braid piled on her head in a cone like shape with the rest danging over her shoulder, was down, the long braid trailing down her Christmas attire. She gave me a welcoming smile before continuing to talk to Flitwick about something or other. 

I sat besides a nervous looking second year who seemed adamant at not looking at anyone at the table, twiddeling their thumbs on their lap. I was greeted by Professor Dumbledore, along with McGonagall and a couple of others. The Weasley twins were the most jubilant about being around. I was just glad I haven't gotten on their nerves or else I'd end up with the same scowl as Ronald and Percy had as they began to put food on their plates, hair covered in patches of very bright colors.

I didn't plan to stick around while I was finished eating, even if the look Snape had when he was coerced into pulling a popper with the Headmaster was hilarious as it came. Instead, I took the distraction to explore the castle at night with the new cloak I was given. 

It wasn't the best idea I've had, not by a long shot. But the boredom of the past few days were not as enticing as doing something dangerous. The part of me that cared about being caught was sure to be tied up on a plank by the Daredevil personality. Not that I minded. It was either this or another night of sitting in the dorm room, wishing that Draco was rambling his mouth off to the two goons he dragged around everywhere because at least that was a better way to spend the night. Maybe it had to do with the silence. Spending a couple of months with nothing but noise that wasn't always obnoxious was a relief. It made me even more sad to realize that I would be sent back to the Dursley's in June.

And as I expected, Hogwarts wasn't as exciting at night than it was in the day. Sure, the aesthetic was pleasing. The torches were still lit for the celebration and all the moving paintings were off in other portraits doing their own little thing. I passed by a painting that normally held women sitting around sewing and gossiping that was completely empty except for a sheep gnawing on the oiled garment they were forever working on. They wouldn't like that when they came back.

In the more open hallways, where the windows were parted to let the moonlight stream through, one could see the dust-motes swirling around in a never ending dance, the only audience being the moon, stars and myself. 

Turning a corner, I found two whispering voices behind a suit of armor, sounding quite harsh and nervous. Looking around I realized I didn't remotely recognize where I was, and the one suit of armor being here didn't help. Cause all the armor looks exactly the same.

Taking small steps closer, gripping the invisibility cloak tighter to myself to remind me that I was, indeed, invisible. I didn't pay any attention to the words being spoken, though I couldn't help but catch "restricted section" among them... Well, it certainly wasn't me, I'm not stupid enough to go there even with a cloak like this. 

Walking past I caught a glimpse of Professors Snape and Quirrell, for once Quirrell looking less shaky on his feet but more angry than I've ever seen. I remember the day after Halloween when Snape was limping about, his left leg wrapped, and despite him trying to be descrete, one who knew how to hide injuries could always tell when another was trying to do so anyways. Something about that reminded me of the Cerberus on the third floor. There was no way a troll could have caused something that would have caused bandages to appear on a leg. So something bigger or something with sharper teeth must have done the damage.

Meaning that Snape might have been after the stone. But, well, the non-stuttering Quirrell is really suspicious as well. There was no way someone like him could cut the stutter in front of someone who frightened 7th years. 

A sound caught my attention and I cursed silently at the pebble I accidentally kicked. Immediately Snape and Quirrell dispatched, with the former heading in my direction and the latter fleeing into the dark. I moved quickly, only to see a lantern heading in the other way around the corner, which meant that Filch must be the one that started this search and Snape must have found Quirrell along the way as well.

I dodged both at the same time, thanking the cloak and the years of practice I've had, ducking into an open doorway and nearly startling myself as I caught my reflection in a rather large mirror that stood in the middle of the (must have been) unused classroom. The strange thing: I was still wearing the invisbility cloak. I was glad I could control my voice or I would have definitely alerted those in the corridors of my presence. 

Curious, though, I stepped closer to the mirror, examining it closely. It was very tall, nearly reading the ceiling, gold, and it stood on clawed feet. Along the top arched the words "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi". Odd.... The puzzle was there but the answer was hard to decipher. It surely wasn't any Latin.

It was after I looked down that I saw others with me. Two adults, one with familiar messy black hair, the other flaming red with eyes hard to not recognize. My parents. Behind them were others: a man with scars along his face, besides him another with scruffy black hair that was laughing while clasping his hand on the first's shoulder; a woman with short blonde hair holding a baby about as chubby as could be as she gazed lovingly at a man with kind eyes; Granger and Zabini standing besides my reflection as my parents clasped hands on my shoulder, large smiles on their faces as they waved at me, not my copy.

"I show not your face but what your heart desires," I whispered, hands clenching tighter on the fabric. "The Mirror of Erised, of desire.... I didn't think we'd have that here too."

The other Harry winked at me, throwing his arms around Granger and Zabini, around his Hermione and his Blaise. I didn't know who any of the other people were, besides my mum and dad, but I was pretty sure that the baby was Neville Longbottom as a baby being held by his parents, though all but his friends faces were blurry and hard to make out other than their distinctive features.

"Of course..." I smiled sadly. "They're too damn likable, those idiots..."

I left after a half hour of sitting in front of my reflection, pretending in my head that this wasn't a mirror and that it was all real. But I knew about the Mirror of Erised. Not much, but enough to know that it was a dangerous object. People have wasted away just sitting here.

This would be my first and last time ever being near it, so I took as much time as I was comfortable, memorizing what I could, before leaving the unused and dusty classroom. I headed back to the Slytherin dorms, trying my best not to run back and stare at the mirror.

Oh yes, that mirror was dangerous indeed.

Chapter Text

"I still can't believe you had to spend the entire holiday here and still dress like you've just got mobbed by those lower than your station!"

That was the first thing Malfoy sneered to me the morning after everyone came back. Classes began again after the welcome back feast the night before and most were too excited to care about appearances to see all their friends once again while others were too busy bragging about what they had done over break. I didn't stay long at the Slytherin table before moving over to the Ravenclaw table where Granger sat, reading more than eating, as Zabini followed. So whatever anyone at the Slytherin table had to say to me I didn't really hear until today. And that included Malfoy's.

"Well, excuse me for not keeping up with my beauty techniques, but holiday means relaxation and relaxation means I can dress however I want," I muttered, trying to get past him. He was blocking the doorway, hardly dressed for classes himself but clearly he didn't seem to mind as he was too busy keeping me from heading to breakfast. "Can you move? Or do I have to answer three riddles correctly to be able to pass?"

"No," Malfoy grunted, pushing me further into the dorm. "There is no way I'm letting you leave this room until you look presentable! Merlin, Potter, it's like you can't seem to live without me if you look like such a mess!" His sneer turned into a smirk. "Did you miss me so much over Christmas that this is your subtle way to have me back in your life?"

Ugh.

"Please, just get on with it so I can finally leave."

He didn't lose his smirk but kept his mouth shut as he fixed whatever I needed fixing. As soon as he stepped away I pushed past him and headed out of the common room faster than ever. Screw what I said about missing his annoying mouth running wherever possible. I forgot how irritating he could be.

"Good morning Harry," Neville greeted softly as I walked down to the spot at the Hufflepuff table. Besides him Hermione was already mumbling into her hand as she ate some food and studied. She looked about as stressed out as she did before break, maybe more. She had muttered something about finals coming up for that quarter but I wasn't too worried about that. Things can be fibbed easily during the first round. It's only when OWLs were concerned that you really gotta pay attention.

"Morning."

"How was your break? I didn't get to ask you about it yesterday, considering that my table was... well..." he trailed off, playing with a stretched out part of his sweater, a loose thread continuously unraveling at his activity. 

I sat down besides him, grabbing an apple from the overflowing bowl. "It was... adequate." I didn't bother mentioning the mirror. They would get curious, start their own adventure, and then lose more points for their own house and they might mention my name. Then I'd get in trouble and I have no necessary need for that.

"What did you do?"

"Wandered around some. Saw some interesting sights like the Weasley twins throwing snowballs at Quirrell's turban during the first few days. They got in trouble but I think for all that saw it was worth it." I couldn't stop the small smile that was on my face from the memory. "It was hilarious."

"Harry, it's not a good thing to make fun of a teacher. I hope you know that," Hermione said, glancing up from her text. "It's not nice."

I rolled my eyes. "I know, Granger. Yeesh."

"What did you get for Christmas?" Longbottom asked. "I'm sorry I didn't get you anything. I... I wasn't sure what you'd like and Gran only gave me money for the train ride so you wouldn't have gotten anything too expensive anyways..."

"It's fine, Longbottom. I didn't expect much anyways," I said, not really up to having a sobbing Hufflepuff on my hands first thing this morning. "I just got some small things, a chess set and a new robe. Thanks for the candy by the way, Granger. You didn't need to get me anything."

"It was no problem. Thank you for the Transfiguration book, Harry. It was very thoughtful of you," Hermione smiled at me before returning to her studying. The conversation smoothed over even after Blaise joined us for the rest of breakfast before the four of us separated; Blaise and I to charms while Hermione and Neville headed to double Herbology.

Nothing really important happened for another few weeks until the four of us were back together and in the library, Hermione and I needing a couple of books for our partnered Transfiguration homework while the other two just needing somewhere to go.

It was here that we stumbled upon Hagrid with an armful of books on dragons, young ones in fact. He also seemed frazzled as he carefully held them, despite the fact that I was sure they've been through worse than the hands of a half-giant. What children can do with books is disastrous.

He had left as quickly as he could but it didn't stop us from following after him. The half-giant wasn't usually so shifty and nervous, especially since he left his collection of library books sitting on the table besides them. We also weren't very close but it was still curious and I couldn't help but be curious as to what could make someone so loving of dangerous creatures like a Cerberus. Oh yes, we figured out who owned the good boy, we just have yet to figure out his name.

"Why is the window so foggy?" Blaise asked, trying to look through the glass of the window. It was blurry, which was unusual, and from what I could see through the condensation on the window there was something going on over the fireplace.  

"It's probably extremely warm in there," Hermione hypothesized. "Fang doesn't seem to be too happy about being there. Look, he's panting extremely hard, the poor thing." Just as she said that Hagrid, his blurry and lumbering form, opened the door, letting the large dog of sweetness outside so he could cool off. As the door began to swing closed, I slipped in, leaving the other three outside. They didn't notice until it was too late.

It wasn't hard to hide in his large house. Anything was big enough to cover a small eleven year old, especially one who was so used to hiding from people larger than him. It was a good thing too, cause as soon as I ducked behind his armchair, Hagrid turned around with a dark green egg in between a pair of tongs, bright yellow from the heat of the flames.

"You're nearly out!" he whispered to himself gleefully, putting on a pair of worn green oven-mitts. I could hear something tapping against metal, like a woodpecker except much slower and more powerful. The giant crooned as something peaked it's head out, scaly and snake-like. My eyes widened and I couldn't help myself from hissing out:

"Dragon..."

Chapter Text

Hagrid wiped around faster than I thought possible, large oven mitts on his hands and a surprised look behind his large and bushy beard. At the same time the baby dragon blinked and looked at me as well, it's irises slitting inside gold. It crooned and began to wiggle out of the shell, which seemed to be more fragile than before as it easily broke when it fell over to the side. 

That action startled the Hagrid about as much as my sudden appearance, as he swiveled back around in the same fashion and began to fret over the tiny lizard. It seemed like the baby was high priority at the moment and as the half-giant helped it leave the remainder of it's egg I heard the hut's door squeak open. Hermione and the others shuffled inside and stood besides me.

"Is that...?" Blaise whispered, looking straight at the mothering Hagrid and the dragon.

Neville squeaked and surprise and stiffened on my other side as Hermione began to mutter something under her breath. In all of this the baby dragon barely took it's eyes off of us. 

Once it was out completely, it crooned something more and took a few steps forwards on the table, stretching out it's small leathery wings. As it moved, the light in the hut shined down on it's scales, the spines glittering green and gold as the rest moved from sunburnt orange to a pale green.

"It's a Norweigan Ridgeback!" Hermione finally voiced, louder than the rest of the people in the hut. It startled Hagrid once more who turned back around and seemed to shrink in on himself slightly. He took off his mitts.

"What are you four doin' here?" he asked, stepping closer to the baby. "Yer not supposed to be here!"

"Hagrid," Hermione frowned, placing a hand on her hip while the other pointed at the dragon baby. "That's not supposed to be here! It's illegal to own a dragon! They're magical creatures and basically the equivalent of a wild bear or large cat in the muggle world. At some point it's going to hurt you or, worse, kill you. It's not going to be domesticated!"

The only response she got was from the dragon itself, who crooned and tried to bite one of Hagrid's fingers as they rested defensively on the surface of the table. Hagrid flinched as the sharp teeth grazed his skin and he looked down guiltily and shrunk into his beard. 

"Deep down I know," he murmured, "but I always wanted a dragon. I jus' won 'im the other night, too, though I had hoped he'd have hatched yesterday. He's jus' a late bloomer, s'all..." He sighed. "And he's jus' so cute."

The dragon hissed something out that I could barely recognize and wondered if it was speaking English. There were some muggle books I had read, when I was younger, where some dragons could speak in human tongue, though I had yet to truly see if it was true in the wizard's perspective.

"Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," Blaise said. "He's not going to be so cute when he sneezes and burns your house down." To make his point, the baby sneezed out a small fireball, which ploomed and disappeared in only a few seconds, but that's all was needed to prove his point. Hagrid appeared to be even more depressed at that.

Neville stepped forwards slightly. "Can't we send him to the Romanian Dragon Reserve? We can send a letter saying we found a lot Norwegian Ridgeback egg that also hatched and there's no safe place for it to grow up. Especially since it needs it's mother to survive."

"How would we explain to them how we found a baby dragon on Hogwart's grounds?" Hermione questioned, while at the same time Blaise rose an eyebrow as if he too was questioning Neville's statement. I was just watching the dragon as it explored the tabletop, occasionally glancing back at us as it did. It hissed a few times, sounding like it was trying to speak in human tongue once more before attempting to hop down to the ground.

"The Forbidden Forest has so many creatures that exist that it'll probably be no surprise to find a dragon," Neville explained. "And dragons migrate."

The dragon jumped, and acting on instincts, I dove forwards and grabbed the dragon before it could hurt himself on the floor. He struggled slightly and I winced as his sharp nails dug into my skin but he calmed down and seemed to croon more as he did.

"I don't think dragons are supposed to do this," I said, standing up and wincing as my knee gave a rather loud crack. The dragon crooned in response and shoved his head into my chest, making the already warm hut even warmer as the heat it gave out was transfered into my own skin.

Hagrid seemed to wilt even more as Blaise said, in surprise, "He's imprinted on you as his mother, Harry! That rarely happens to wizards unless they're a Parselmouth!"

"A what now?"

"Someone who can speak to snakes," Neville and Hermione clarified. They glanced at each other and Hermione decided to continue. "The last known speaker was He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, but he wasn't known to have talked with a dragon. But the last one who did that was written was Salazar Slytherin himself."

"So is it some form of English?" I asked, patting the dragon nervously. I did not want to end up being dragon nibbles.

"It's more like a hissing sound," Blaise answered. 

"Hissing?" I questioned again.

They nodded and I thought back to the snake I let loose on Dudley's birthday. I was so sure that that snake had thanked me that day, and now I'm even more positive that what I heard was English coming from the snake. 

Instead of voicing my thoughts I stepped towards my friends, holding the dragon even close as to not drop him. "You want to get-- wait, Hagrid, what were you going to name the dragon once it hatched?"

Hagrid dabbed at his eyes, and I felt a little guilty that Hagrid wouldn't get to have his dream of owning a dragon and that all this bad luck went his way when the dragon ignored him in favor of someone else.

"Norbert."

"Right," I nodded. "Would you like to come with me to go write a letter to this reserve to get Norbert to a better home then a wooden house? I'm sure he would like the company." In all actuality I wanted a large group to hide a baby dragon. It wasn't time for dinner yet, so there would still be plenty of students and teacher milling about and they would obviously catch the sight of a dragon. And I did not plan on losing points for my house.

"I would love to."

Chapter Text

There wasn't anything better than feeling the sun on your face after long grueling weeks of preparing for exams and then going through all of them in only a few days, while also having a tearful sendoff with an apparently female baby dragon as the experts picked her up only a few days into the studying. Well, there was the time when Hagrid gave Dudley a tail but that has nothing to do with this. 

This was like heaven.

Hermione was ranting with Blaise about the latest test, History of Magic, and the answers they both gave with Draco gave his two sickles here and there while he read a muggle book Hermione managed to sneak to him sometime after Christmas. Those two were beginning to be a little more friendly towards each other, since Malfoy was beginning to use studying as an excuse to try and get closer to me. In all honesty it seemed more like he was gaining a mutual respect with Granger instead, seeing as how when we were studying for exams it was usually those two getting into a heated debate about something in potions or charms or whatever subject we were studying. I wouldn't call it friendship, possibly more bordering on an understanding of sorts, or even a temporary alliance. I just hoped that they wouldn't get too buddy-buddy and end up doing something worse then friendship: getting along so well that they're like twins.

As for Neville and I, well, I must say we had the best idea. Relaxing in the sun was definitely much better than having to use your brain for unnecessary information.

Well, I would have been relaxing if my scar wasn't hurting like a bitch. 

Scrunching my forheaded with my fingers, I sighed and got up from the most comfortable spot I've been in for a while and put my bag back over my shoulder. This must have caught the other's attention as Hermione stopped rambling about the Werewold Code of Conduct of 1637 mid-debate and Malfoy put a bookmark in his book. Neville nearly sat up as well, though he did open his eyes and furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

"Where are you going, Harry?" Blaise asked, frowning.

"My scar hurts, so I'm going to go inside and get that blasted stone so it could fucking stop hurting!" I growled.

"Harry! Language!" 

"Stone?" Malfoy asked, raising a brow. "I seem to be missing some vital information, Potter."

"Oh you know, the philosopher's stone? Most wanted gem in alchemy? Used to prolong one's life? About this big, yea high and hidden underneath a cerberus on the forbidden third floor corridor?" I replied. 

"You mean the Flamel's actually let Dumbledore have the stone?" he questioned. "I thought that was just a rumor my father overheard during a board meeting."

This time Hermione rose a brow. "I didn't know you knew it was here?"

"I didn't, Granger. Don't you listen? I overheard my father talking to mother about it after a school board meeting over the Yule holidays. He overheard Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore discussing it in passing but thought nothing of it till he got home." Draco turned to me. "What significance does it have being here anyways?"

"Well, I believe Quirrell is a spy for Voldemort and he's going to find the stone and try to bring his Lord back from the dead. If I get it now, I think I can use it as a bribe to get Voldemort to stop making my fucking scar hurt!" I was getting frustrated. How hard is it to understand that?!

"How do you know You-Know-Who is making it hurt? Could be a migraine, for all we know," Draco questioned again. 

"He dealt the curse, how else is it gonna hurt without him?! And besides, if it was a migraine, I'd be experiencing other symptoms than a headache directly underneath the scartissue above my eye, Malfoy," I growled. "In any case, I'm dropping off my shit and dealing with it. You're welcome to come if you'd like, not like I can stop you or whatever." 

And with that I turned to stomp up the hills and through the corridors until all my things were deposited into my dorms. Deciding that it was better to do whatever I planned to do in comfort, I changed out of my school robes and into a long sleeved red sweater and a pair of flexible pants. Then switching out my shoes for the worn out running shoes I had at the beginning of the year, I left the common room the same way I entered.

I wasn't surprised to see Hermione and Neville waiting at the entrance to the Great Hall, also dressed but looking very winded. I guessed they rushed to wherever their common rooms were to change as well.

"I'm guessing Malfoy and Zabini weren't bothering to come with," I stated.

"On the contrary, my dear friend," Blaise said, appearing just a few feet behind me with a cocky looking Draco besides him. "We were just a few minutes behind you, though it seemed you completely missed us on your way out."

"You've barely been in the wizarding world long enough to duel, Potter, let alone deal with more powerful wizards than yourself," Malfoy continued. "My father would be disappointed in me if I let the Savior kill himself with only a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff at his side. And I'm a brilliant strategist. You might need my expertise."

"What Draco means is that he won't let his friend get killed on Gryffindor behavior," Blaise translated, earning a glare and a kick to the shin by the blond next to him. He just snickered in response as he rubbed his sore leg.

"We're your friends too, Harry," Neville said, looking to be scared out of his mind. "Even if it doesn't seem like it, we'd help you in any way we can."

"Nev's right," Hermione agreed. "We're gonna go with you every step of the way."

I would be lying if I didn't feel a little touched at their speech. I felt like I was in one of Aunt Petunia's novellas that she'd watch on Tuesdays and Thirsdaus every afternoon. Maybe even a cheesy romance flick or a B-rated horror film, if I was to be a bit out there.

"Thanks." If they noticed the slight crack in my voice, my friends didn't point it out. 

The trip to the third floor corridor was uneventful. We passed students who seemed more focused on getting out of the school rather than staying in and the only interesting thing was seeing Peeves praink a few unsuspecting fifth years on the second floor. Other than that, it was smooth sailing until the five of us made it to the previously locked door that held giant dog on the other side.

"On the count of three," Hermione said, hand griping on her wand. As she begin to count, the rest of us took out our wands, and if any of us were shaking, we were smart enough not to point it out to each other.

"One..." A bead of nervous sweat rolled down Neville's face. "Two..." I swallowed a lump in my throat I didn't know I had. "Three!" And then Draco unlocked the door with a swish of his wand and Blaise had it opened only milliseconds later.

On the other side, the cerberus was snoring away, laying in a patch of sunlight that managed to get through the old stained glass of the rather small room. It wasn't entirely over the door but it definitely had some of it's paw over one side.

"Who's going to lift that?" Malfoy sneered, wrinkling his nose at the snorting pup. "And who's to blame for the bloody dog?"

"Blaise and Neville, you life the paw, since your the strongest of the five of us," I ordered. They both nodded and tip-toed to the beast. "Hermione, you're in charge of unlocking and opening the door. Malfoy, you and I will make sure the dog stays asleep and we get through to the other side okay with little interruptions. Got it?" 

Hermione and Draco nodded and as soon as Nev and Blaise got the paw safely away from the padlocked door, Hermione worked on unlocking it with a charm. It took a couple of tries but the brightest witch of our year managed to do it on the seventh try, letting out a silent victory fist pump as Blaise helped her open it up. Malfoy kept an eye on the door while I watched the cerberus snort, turn over, lick on of it's three noses and continue away with snoozing.

"I'll go down first, since this was my idea," I said. We were circled around the small opening, which looked much more ominous than the first obstacle. "Whoever comes afterwards is up to you." 

I took a deep breath, calming my nerves. "See you on the other side." 

And then I jumped in.

It seemed to take forever to land, but when I did, I felt something damp and slimy underneath me. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn't a snake, but possibly close to it. No scales, I could feel, maybe a plant of some sort. I tightened my grip on my wand. "It's okay!" I called up.

A body landed next to me, sprawled and groaning and I recognized Hermione right away. A few feet in front of me, Neville, then two on my other side, who must have been Malfoy and Zabini.

"What is this stuff?" Blaise asked, wrinkling his nose at the smell.

"A plant, Zabini, or can't you not tell?" Malfoy said sarcastically.

"Devil's Snare," Neville corrected. He seemed to be very calm, compared to the rest of us who's nerves were stuck between being sarcastic and on robot mode.

"We must be miles under the school," Hermione noted. "It's so dark down here too."

I tried to move and sit up but panicked when the vines tightened it's grip on me. I tried to struggle against and it seemed to only get worse. Neville was already gone, whatever he did allowed him to plop down below the strangling plant. Draco and Hermione were next to suddenly disappear, leaving Blaise and I by ourselves.

"How do we get out of this?!" I yelled, frustrated and scared. I did not want to die from a plant. The only good things to come from it was humiliating Voldemort and that's about all I could think of.

"I think we need to relax," Blaise said. He looked to be hyperventalating himself. "Hey, did I ever tell you I'm claustrophobic?"

"What?! How is that relevant?"

"Well, this one time playing hide and seek with one of my mum's suitors, he locked me in a wardrobe when I hid in there. Wasn't found for over three hours. Mum heard my banging and screams when she tried to find me for lunch. This feels like I'm in there again." He gave a shaky chuckle. "Figured if I brung it up with a friend, it might calm me down a little, even though the situations different."

I would have repsonded with something if I didn't feel something hot underneath my bum and feel through to land on a stone floor, Blaise groaning next to me as he landed on his back. 

"Thanks..." I moaned out, sitting up and rubbing my lower back. Blaise stuck his head between his knees and took some shakey breaths as Neville helped me up.

"No problem," Hermione said, giving a somewhat confident smirk. Malfoy just rolled his eyes.

"She thought about starting a fire until she realized we had wands," he snorted, though with his tone of voice it didn't seem like he was being mean. Almost like he found it to be more endearing funny than mean funny.

"How're you feeling, Blaise?" I asked. I crouched down and patted his back. "Better?"

A deep breath. "Yeah. Thanks."

After that we set out in the only direction we could. 

"What do you think that was?" Malfoy asked, tapping his chin.

"An obstacle, of course," Hermione answered. "It would make sense if each teacher put an obstacle to try and stop an intruder, even just a little, from getting the stone."

"And the snare was the first one, from Professor Sprout," I finished.

We turned a corner and saw dozens of flying keys, making fluttering sounds that reminded me of birds and fallen paper aeroplanes. I would have mistaken them for actual birds if they didn't glint in the dim light that was provided.

"This must be charms, then, from Professor Flitwick," Blaise said. "But whatever are they for?"

I noticed brooms laying off to the side. I grabbed one, handed the other to Malfoy, and we mounted together. "If they're keys they must unlock something, right? Maybe a door to the other obstacle, we just need to know the right one."

"So look for a key that looks like the most used?" Malfoy suggested.

"Exactly."

It took about ten minutes, but we found the key. Both of us dived down towards the one key that had the most bent wings and was slightly larger than the others. It was nearly a tie but I managed to grab it before Malfoy and we jumped and raced to the door where Hermione and the others were standing as we were chased by angry smaller keys. We struggled to get it in, the wings tickling our hands and trying to escape but we managed to unlock the door and slam it shut. The other keys thunded against the wood, a couple sharp enough at such speeds that it nearly went all the way through.

"That was close," Neville sighed. "Now what?"

"Chess, it seems," Draco answered.

I turned around and grimaced at the sight of the large chess board. "I am not gonna be apart of that."

"Of course you aren't, Potter. You're barely on my level," Draco agreed. "I'll be the leader of this game." Draco stepped forwards and directed the rest of us to empty spots on the board.

The game was quick but terrifying. The power that the chess pieces had were intense and sent pieces of stone flying in all directions. A couple of times I felt like I was nicked by a couple of small pieces and I noticed some bleeding scratches on the others.

I was surprsied, though, that by the end all of us made it to the other side. Draco had to sacrafice many of his pawns and a biship, but we made it to the other side, with very little injuries.

"McGonnagal," was all that Hermone said, before she pushed us to the next course.

I was glad we didn't have to do it. The troll on the other side was already knocked out cold, but the smell was incredibly aweful. I could have done with less of that smell in my life. We quickly went past it to the other door, and hopefully the last obstacle.

"Snape," Neville groaned, looking like he wanted to smash his face against the wall. I would have joined him, if I didn't know how important this would have been. 

"What do we have to do?" I asked.

Stepping inside, a fire immediately sprung to life, both from behind us and in front of us. Behind us, the fire was a deep violet, while the one in front was black. In short, we were trapped.

"Look!" Hermione pointed. She ran up to the table that held vials in a row, grabbing a scroll that layed next to them. She read aloud:

"Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, which ever you will find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, hoever slyly the poison tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;

Second, different are those who stand at either end,

But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight."

I sighed and my head began to hurt even more. This was getting really complicated and annoying. Why go through all this trouble for a silly stone? If I was Voldemort, I would have just gone, "Fuck it, I'll die . At least I'll get to live for about two-hundred years more than if I did dealing with this shit."

"It's a riddle," Malfoy grimaced.

"It's a puzzle," Granger grinned.

"But which do we drink?" Neville questioned. "And do we have enough for all of us?"

"Give me a minute to think this through!" Both Hermione and Draco said, looking deep in thought. Oh great, they're already becoming twins. Great....

"I'm not even gonna try," Blaise said. "I'm not that good with riddles."

"Me neither," I admitted. "Too many obvious choices. Not my kind of thing. I'd rather go around something than have to think of a way to go through it."

It was silent for a few minutes as the two thought over the riddle. Blaise decided to sit on the hard floor and I was about ready to join him when Draco and Hermione pointed to the same bottle, the smallest of them all.

"It's that one," they stated proudly. They smiled at each other for a split second before they realized who they were looking at, before they frowned and turned away.

"Good job on at least getting it right, Granger. I guess not all Muggleborns are average."

"I guess that's the best I'll get from you, Malfoy. So I give the same reguards to you but for Purebloods."

Malfoy sniffed but accepted the half-insult, half-compliment as well. 

"There's only enough for one though," Neville pointed out. "Who's going to go through to the other side?"

"I will, of course," I said. "I was the one that wanted to go here originally so I should go and get it myself. No use in getting you all in danger." The others began to protest but I held up my hand. They stopped, but pouted in doing so.

I spoke again. "I want you to figure out which can go make you go through the other way to get help. Get Snape or Flitwick or something. Someone who we know can possibly help. Don't think getting Dumbledore will work, since he hired the teacher that's helping Voldemort anyways. He may be the greatest wizard of our time, but he's now busy with other stuff. So just get someone else."

"I'll do that one," Blaise said. "Just be careful, okay?"

I nodded and took the vial out of Hermione's hand and drank it. It felt like ice was flooding my body and I shivered. I wished myself and Blaise a goodluck as he took a swig of the other potion and shuddered, and we both ran through our own fires.

Soon I was on the other side and in what seemed to be the last chamber.

I wasn't surprised to see Quirrell. I was surprised to see him here today, though, even if it was coincidence that we chose the same day to take or save the stone.

"Potter, you don't seem all that surprsied," the man noted aloud. "Not even a little gasp?" His stutter was gone and I knew that my suspicions on him were correct.

"A four year old could have figured this out."

"Yet it took you this long to find out what's under here," Quirrell snickered. If he was trying to sound big, bad and evil, it wasn't working. If anything he sounded like a terrible muggle movie villian.

"I had school things to do. Do you really think I'd let my education suffer just to find a stupid stone?"

That seemed to shut the professor up.

"Boy, you listen here. That 'stupid stone' is what's going to bring a change to this world. A change that my lord will accomplish once he's drunk the elixir to extend his life and bring muggles and muggleborns out of existence." The man stormed forwards slightly, and as he did I noticed that he was standing in front of the mirror from the Yule holidays. So this is where it was moved to. 

"Without those muggles and muggleborns your lord wouldn't have a purpose in this world and would have been long forgotten among the other wizards among the ministry," I drawled out, taking on a bored tone to my appearance. On the inside I was filled with anxiety and the need to leave this chamber. My scar was starting to hurt worse than it did when in Defense and I just wanted to hide my head under a blanket for years.

"You don't know that, Potter!" Quirrell pracitcally shrieked out. His turban slipped on his head slightly. "My lord would have risen in the ranks and become minister and would have brought forth a true change to the wizarding world without muggles to populate it. He would have been truly powerful!"

"Look, you came here for the stone, right? What makes you think that it's actually going to help Voldemort in whatever state he's in now?" I asked. The man flinched at his master's name and it seemed to work him up even more. I never knew Professor Quirrell had such a temper.

He seemed to want to say something again but he hesistated as he muttered to himself. Then he grinned and nodded his head and I was tempted to leave him right then and there. There was something weird going on inside his head.

"I have someone you should meet, Potter," Quirrell chuckled and he reached his hands to unravel his messed up turban. The purple fabric fell to his shoulders and in only seconds his bald head was shown to the world.

My eyes widened as I caught the face on the back of his head in the mirror. It moved, moving the skin with it, and it seemed to inhale and exhale and I did not want to know if it shared the same body parts as my professor.

"Harry Potter," it spoke and I knew that I was speaking with Voldemort himself. "See what I have become? Because of you I have become mere shadow and vapor, forced to share a body. Unicorns blood has sustained me this far but with teh Elixir of LIfe, I will be able to create a body of my own." It was looking around as it talked before it focused it's ashy eyes back on me. "Now come closer, boy...."

Qurrell took this time to conjure ropes to wrap around me with his wand and pulled me forwards to stand in view of the mirror. I saw what I saw last time, the same people but this time Draco was there. The other me had his hands in his pockets this time and he pulled on out, his left and my right, showing me the large red stone before winking and putting it back into his pocket. At the same time I felt something heavy drop into mine.

"What do you see?" Quirrell asked, pushing me even closer to the glass.

"I see myself, with only my parents. They're happy to see me," I answered. It wasn't a complete lie, just the only thing I felt like sharing.

"He lies!" the face on the back of his head shrieks. "He has the stone! I know he does! Give me the stone that's in your pocket, Potter!"

I felt the robes around me loosen and I stumbled backwards, trying to get away.

"Never," I growled, and shook the rest of the ropes off of me. I tried patting me pockets, just to make sure the stone was still there, accidentally slipping my hand inside, before making a run for it.

"SEIZE HIM!" The face shrieked again, and I heard Quirrell stumble after me. I thought I'd be faster than the man, having practiced running from Dudley and his friends and being much faster than them, but I misjudged Quirrell's desparation for pleasing his lord, and felt his hand wrap around my wrist, the one where my hand held the stone.

At the same time we called out in pain, mine coming from my scar. I crumpled to the ground, Quirrell doing the same, holding his hand which began to disintegrate. 

Voldemort continued to yell and shriek at his minion, as Quirrell tried again to grab me and bring me closer to try and get the stone from me. I yelled back, through I was more afraid then anyhing, and did my best to push the man away. Wherever I touched him, his skin began to disolve and I pushed my hand to his face, scooting back as my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor shuddered to dust, his dark robes falling to join the remains.

I was exhausted as I let the darkness pull me in, I thought I heard a woman crying my name as a wraith fled the scene. 

Chapter Text

I woke up in the hospital wing. I didn't know how long I've been here but I do know that the sun was to bright to handle right now. It glared in my face through the large paned windows and I winced as it shined itself in my eyes.

Blinking, I looked around, wondering who else had made it to the wizard equivalent of a nurses office, but found no one in the beds besides me. Meaning that no one got hurt or sick while I was down...

Right.

The Philosopher's stone. 

Memories rushed back into my head and I set my head back on the pillow as I remembered my friends who had helped me with my stupid decision on getting that stupid stone. Hopefully none of them got hurt while going back and getting some help. Otherwise I wouldn't be here.

Looking back around I noticed a table on my left, filled with cards and candy from whomever. 

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," a voice spoke up. Headmaster Dumbledore came walking from behind a room divider, wearing brightly colored robes and his half moon glasses. "What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, natural the whole school knows."

I stayed silent. I was confused as why the headmaster was here in the first place, and a bit angry at the fact that it was his fault for bringing the stone into the school which brought me here when I could have enjoyed the night in my common room and bed. I don't think Dumbledore enjoyed my silence, but he continued anyways.

"You've been here three days. Your friends Miss Granger and Mr. Longbottom will be most relieved you have come around, they have been extremely worried."

What about Blaise and Malfoy?, I thought to myself, but still kept silent. I could feel the air between us turning awkward, as the Headmaster was the only one talking, but I didn't care. I was still wondering why he was here for me. Is it cause I broke the rules? Or cause I'm the Boy-Who-Lived?

Finally I spoke. "The Stone, sir?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. Professor Snape and Professor Flitwick arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I heard. Though, you and your friends did lose some points for breaking the rules."

"Is that why you're here, sir?"

He chuckled. "No, no, I assure you."

"And what happened to the Stone?"

"Destroyed. Nicolas and I had a little chat and agreed that destroying it was for the best."

Meaning he and his wife would die, I thought again, but kept that information to myself. I was getting tired of this question-him-and-he-answers deal that we got into.

Headmaster Dumbledore was there for a little while more, even eating some of the candy that I would have never eaten myself. Candy wasn't really my thing but I would indulge myself every once in a while. Maybe when I'm allowed to leave Hogwarts during the school year, I'll try that candy shope down in that wizard town with some of the older years.

When Dumbledore left, I was finally allowed time by myself before Madam Pomfrey shuffled in, ready to perform some more diagnostics on me. I would be staying here for another night before returning to my common room to finish the school year. 

I heard that Hermione and the others tried to come in but weren't allowed in, despite Blaise's silver tongue. It didn't matter though (despite the fact that I sorta wished they were here, I wanted to see what I had missed while I was down in that final chamber) because I knew I'd see them the next day.

I had been all to ready to leave the medical wing and when I was given the okay I zoomed out of there as fast as possible. I was done being in that bed for another minute. Plus, I had friends to see.

"Harry!" I heard someone call. I turned and saw Hermione and Neville running towards me, and I had little time to brace myself before I had the bushy haired girl squeezing me tightly, Neville joining in seconds later. 

"Hey."

"Don't 'hey' me! I wanted to see you yesterday, make sure you were okay, but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let me. Told us that Headmaster Dumbledore told her that no one was to see you until you left the hospital wing, to let you rest," she said, releasing me. 

"Us?"

"Yes. Blaise and Malfoy were with us, of course. Who else would have been there?" Hermione asked.

To be honest, I felt a little fluttering in my chest. It made me wonder if this is what feeling of love between friends was like. I felt a little warm, and I wondered if maybe I was getting sick, but I didn't think so. There was a smile that wouldn't leave on my face.

"Thanks. I appreciate you being with me."

"It's about time you thanked us. We had to worry over you, you know. Do you know what that does to someone? Stress, Potter. Does not let you age well, wizard or not." A new voice joined in and Malfoy and Zabini appeared from around the corner.

"Not unless it's good stress," I retorted. "I heard that I'm supposed to be good, so it's good to stress over me."

"We stressed over your life, Harry," Blaise said, rolling his eyes. "I don't think that's considered good stress."

"I do, cause at least I'm still alive."

"Dork."

"I think you mean dark, but good try."

"Idiot."

I couldn't stop smiling, even though Blaise and I traded insults at each other. Neville was smiling as he watched, looking content, while Hermione huffed with her own grin and Malfoy rolled his eyes.

I told myself I didn't need friends, but I guess these guys aren't so bad. I mean, they did go try and defeat the dark lord with me. 

So I guess they're alright.

Chapter Text

It had been a long summer. A little too long for my tastes, along with too hot and  a bit too stressful. I didn't know how I'd be able to survive, considering there were multiple new factors I now had to address with the muggles that I lived with. 

I had come home last school year with a couple of scratches on my face, a new reputation with my school peers resting on my shoulders, a rather irritated owl who spent most of the trainride cramped in her cage, and the vague impression that the next year would probably end up the same as the last one. 

Among all those things, Dudley was avoiding me nearly as much as he did after Hagrid had picked me up last summer and Aunt Petunia tried her best not to look like I would hex her whenever I looked in her general direction. Not that that stopped her dark looks and exasperation towards her husband, my (thankfully) not blood related Uncle Vernon.

Said man was as angry as ever. I suppose me not calling from the nearest phone at the beginning of last September pissed him off, considering he didn't beleive that Platform 9 and 3/4 didn't exist. Since I returned healthier and with friends and enough adventure to last a lifetime, he seemed to make it his mission to make me even more miserable than last time.

Which brings me to now, locked in my room as my aunt and uncle and cousin entertain some guests from Vernon's job. I guess being magical would have been totally off-putting to a completely normal family. Yes, because having two over weight males and one skinny as fuck woman is a normal British family.

In any case, I just rolled my eyes and went with it. It just meant that I could spend time alone and not doing any chores for the rest of the day, because Aunt Petunia had been doing most of it while I just did the more dirty works, like gardening and the like. She preferred to dust and cook anyways, even though she made me do it most of the time.

Hedwig made a soft cooing sound and I frowned and reached my fingers through her cage to brush some of her soft feathers. She was getting about as antsy as I was, being cooped up in this house with only a few more weeks left until we could go back to Hogwarts. Uncle Vernon hadn't let me let Hedwig out of her cage very often, though he said if I was quiet through this evening I could let her out near midnight and let her fly, since I was "being a good little boy". I think I'll just tell her to fly to Neville's or something, somewhere where she could be for the next few weeks until Hogwarts. 

"Just a few more hours," I whispered to her. In response, I'm pretty sure I was awarded an owl's glare, if that was even possible. "Once Uncle Vernon is done with his stupid company, you can fly anywhere you want for the next couple of weeks. Then we can meet at Hogwarts when it's time for school to start." 

Another glare, but this time a bit softer.

A sudden pop and a tingle at the back of my neck had me turn in my desk chair (an old one Dudley used only once a couple years back) and gaze into a pair of rather large, almost bulging out of its head, eyes. 

It took a lot not to jump back and shout in surprise, as the creature, whatever it was, seemed to lean forwards and closer to me in a rather creepy way. Its ears were almost too big for its head and it was wearing what looked to be an old pillow case that had some shoddy cutwork for it's arms and legs. Overall, it did not look at all well.

At the same time as the creature leaned forwards once more, I could hear the door downstairs open and Dudley's voice rose up from the hall, asking for coats. It was time to be silent and this... whatever it is, came at the wrong freaking time!

"Er..." I muttered, searching for something to say. It must be magical, or else it wouldn't have shown up in my room so suddenly. "Hello?" Really Harry, that's all?

"Harry Potter!" It squeaked out, a bit too loudly and I shushed it so it wouldn't be heard from all the way down the hall and to the guests downstairs. I really needed Hedwig to stretch her wings. "So long as Dobby wanted to meet you, sir! Such an honor it is..."

"Th-Thanks," I whispered, leaning back and being a bit uncomfortable as the creature, whatever it was, took a small step forwards, its shoulders hunching as his hands come up to rub together, nervously. I narrowed my eyes at that behavior. 

"Who are you?"

"Dobby, sir, Just Dobby!" the creature, Dobby, introduced. "Dobby the house-elf!"

"Well, Dobby the house-elf, I need you to be quiet or else we'll both be in trouble," I said lowly, almost glaring at the creature. "I don't know why you're here but if my uncle downstairs hears any rambunctious noises up here, then my owl will be so cranky that she might think to eat you!"

The elf hung hsi head and I felt a little guilty at how harsh I was being but I shook it away. Just a few more weeks and I'll be free.

"Not that I'm please to meet you, though," I muttered and the house-elf perked up a little. "But I really need to know why you're here and to see if you could hurry it up with whatever it is that you're needed for."

"Dobby is here on business for Harry Potter," Dobby said, puffing up his chest as much as he could. "Dobby is here to deliver letters from Dobby's family. Dobby's young master's letters haven't been coming through and Dobby's young master's getting worried that Harry Potter doesn't want to be friends anymore, so Dobby's young master sent Dobby to deliver the letters to Harry Potter." 

Again, Dobby puffed his chest up in pride. 

"Okay, why don't you hand me the letters and you can take a seat if you need to wait for a reply...." I was a little unsure of it all. I had gotten some letters over the summer, mostly from Neville or Hermione (the latter was through the Post, since it would look odd to see an owl fly from the middle of a busy city like it was and Hermione didn't have an owl of her own anyways), but none from Blaise or Draco. I wondered why, but guessed that since they were a rich family, the both of them, that they may have been too busy with spending the holiday with their family.

The house-elf teared up and began to whimper and sniffle. I thought I offended the creature but then it began to stutter some rather appreciating words that, I'm sure if I was much older and dumber, I would be falling for. I was more worried that Dobby would continue to rise in pitch and alert Vernon and his terrible manners to myself.

"Shh!" I shushed him and tried to get him to stop. He did, thankfully, and sniffled a few more times before handing me the letters and gingerly sat down while tears rolled down his face and a dopey smile to go with it. 

There were probably ten letters all together, three from Blaise, 5 from Draco and 2 from another Malfoy with rather curly writing.

Setting the last two aside, I read the ones from my friends and noted that Draco's started to get slightly angry until the last one, which then explained that he was going to send his rather silly elf to my house instead of his eagle owl who kept returning his letters "for some strange reason". Blaise was somewhat similar but less angry and more annoyed at Draco's behavior, begging me to respond to Draco before he bursts a blood vessel. 

Lastly, the two letters I set aside. On the front was the same wax seal that had been on Draco's for obvious reasons. The name was curious:

Narcissa Malfoy

Chapter Text

"Dear Mr. Potter,

I would like to cordially invite you to Malfoy Manor on July 30th for the celebration of your birth. It has come to my understanding that my son wishes to spend time with you on your twelfth birthday, despite his obvious distaste at your lack of response to his letters. 

Please send a reply as soon as possible.

Best regards, 

Narcissa Malfoy"

I blinked as I read through the letter for the second time. I've never recieved a letter inviting me to a party before, let alone my own. Well, I've never actually recieved a letter invited anywhere except for Hogwarts, and even then it was't entirely personal.

Opening the second letter, I read:

"Dear Mr. Potter,

Since you did not recieve my last letter, I've decided to send our house elf to deliver it instead. The offer still stands, along with an extra few weeks in our residence until the start of term. We would be grateful for you to join us for the rest of the summer.

Please send a reply with Dobby.

Best regards,

Narcissa Malfoy."

Looking up from both letters, I was met with the large eyes of the small creature who looked very expectantly at me with his small hands held out. Almost like I could produce a letter out of my arse or something. 

"Give me a minute, please," I muttered, spinning around in the broken chair that was generously given to me by Aunt Petunia after Dudley broke it by the fifth day he had it, and taking out a piece of muggle paper and an ink pen that I "stole" from the bank the one time I was allowed to go.

I began to write, hoping that I don't offend the clearly high up woman:

"Dear Mrs. Malfoy,

I would like to apologize for the late response. I didn't know that I've been recieving letters until Dobby the house elf popped into my room earlier this evening. 

As for your invitiation, please give me the evening to ask my aunt and uncle if it's alright to leave. While they most likely would say yes, it's still best that I give them a heads up.

Please send Dobby tomorrow morning for my response, for I'm sure any other form of communication will be hard to send back. 

Sincerely,

Harry Potter"

Reading through to make sure I said what I needed to be said, I folded it up, slipped it in an envelope and called it good before writing a quick note to Draco and Blaise that was to also be sent through the weird creature that was now humming to himself. 

"Here, you can send these to your owners, or whatever," I told him. The elf jumped up excitedly, grabbing the papers with nimble fingers that seemed to shake, though I couldn't tell if it was from fear, excitemnet, or he was just falling apart. Could be all three for all I know, I've never met one of these things before.

The house elf bowed, ears brushing the carpet. "Thank you Mister Harry Potter, sir! Thank you so much for everything!" Then he was gone in a snap and I was left feeling very uncomfortable.

A small hoot from the window reminded me of Hedwig and I glanced over at her. She was giving me what looked to be the owl equivalent of what I was feeling: what.

Sighing, I began to stroke her feathers again.

"Just a few more hours, girl. Then you'll be able to stretch your wings and I'll follow soon after."

It was around 10 o'clock at night when the Masons left for the night. There wasn't any interruptions from me and Uncle Vernon seemed much too happy for anything to ruin his mood. 

I was let out of my room to get ready for bed by Aunt Petunia, who looked to be as exhausted as her son. I took this opportunity to ask them both about tomorrow.

"Aunt Petunia," I began, slowly following her as she shuffled towards her and Vernon's room at the end of the hall. "I was wondering; a friend has invited me to their house tomorrow and offered me to stay there until school starts again. That means you won't have to deal with me or anything related to me until next summer. Can I go?"

Petunia stopped in place, her husband still humming about in front of her as he seemed to dance to their bedroom. Dudley had already stumbled into his room, ready to sleep until noon tomorrow.

"Will they be coming here to pick you up?" she asked, on guard.

"Most likely, but I can see about meeting up somewhere else, if that means I can go."

The horse-faced woman stiffened and was ready to answer when Vernon interrupted. "Let him go, Pet. This has been too good of a night to spoil and it'll be an even better summer with him gone so early."

Turning her whole body around, Aunt Petunia frowned and looked me straight in the eyes. "You will have them come through the front door properly and in no other way. Vernon and I will think of something tonight that will have the three of us leave before 10. They can pick you up once we're out of the house and no sooner, do you hear me boy?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good."

And she was walking back to her room, shutting the door behind her and leaving me in the hallway by myself. I finished with my business, went to my room and got ready for bed myself. 

I couldn't wait for tomorrow morning to happen. 

Dobby came popping into my room at 8 in the morning, scaring the shite out of me as I was trying to get dressed and packed for the rest of the year. 

"Mister Harry Potter, I'm here to bring your response to my masters!" he squeaked out as he stood on my bed. 

I quietly handed him the small letter I wrote and watched him disappear once more, though he bowed a couple more times and looked ready to cry by the time he was ready to leave. 

I continued to pack, putting my first year books at the bottom of my trunk while my clothes and shoes rested on the top. I had extra parchment and what quills survived over the last school year in a small pocket that was further away from the heavy things, just so they wouldn't break and get squashed on the move. I wondered if the Malfoys could take me to Diagon Alley to get my new school supplies, or if they already got theirs or not. 

The next few hours were in complete silence. Hedwig was allowed to fly and stretch her wings last night before I slept. I knew she'd be able to find me wherever I went so I wasn't too worried that she'd get lost. I knew when the Dursleys left, when the slamming of doors stopped and the engine of their car rattled away into the distance. I didn't question where they were going, just as long as they were gone long enough to finish whatever I needed to do and the Malfoys could pick me up and take me to their home.

I did wonder, though, on how we were going to get there. Draco had described his manor a couple of times. I knew it was big and had exotic birds in the exotic garden to compliment their exotic features (his words, not mine). I knew of aparation, thanks to the three wizards that actually grew up with magic, and of the floo, which was in the fire place despite it rhyming suspiciously with 'loo'. I really hoped there was no way to transport through the loo, because that would be disgusting.

At 10 am, sharp, a knock was heard on the front door. My trunk and empty cage for Hedwig were already settled by the stairs and I was relaxing on the couch, using this time to catch up on some of the telly gossip. As long as I didn't change the channel, the Dursleys wouldn't really know that I was on it in the first place.

Turning the telly off, I tried my best not to run to the door, but it was futile. Excitment was much harder to control than I thought.

The door swung open and I was surprised to see a man with long blonde hair looking around with distaste shown clearly on his face. Behind him was a woman with similar coloring to the man, though she was a bit shorter than him and her hair was in a curly up-do that seemed to be both pulled from her face but accented it at the same time. The only one I recognized was the blonde boy who was only a few inches taller than myself who looked like he bit into a rather sour lemon.

"Hullo," I greeted, glancing between the three.

"Mr. Potter, I assume," the man said, looking down at me. I took notice that his eyes seemed to flicker between blue and grey and was struck by how similar they were to Draco's. 

"Yessir."

"Lucius Malfoy," the blonde man said. "Please get your things situated as quickly as possible. I don't want any muggles to get the wrong idea with us being here."

"Of course, sir. My things are next to staircase." I went and lifted my trunk and cage, though was caught my surprise as they lifted themselves and floated themselves towards the front of Number Four. 

"Come along, Mr. Potter. We must not waste time," Mr. Malfoy urged, and I stumbled out of the house, locking the door with the spare key that was hidden in the outside light, and following the tall man to the woman and his son. The woman, I guessed, must have been Narcissa Malfoy, the one that had contacted me the night before. 

Draco's face seemed to brighten, despite the fact that I had been told that such emotions should never be given in public and he was breaking his own rules with his mother and father being just right next to him. 

"It's nice to see that you're alive, Potter," Draco greeted, a smirk replacing the almost innocent look he had given me only seconds before.

"Nice to see that you've still been pampered, Malfoy," I retorted, but couldn't help the small smile that forced it's way past my control. It was good to be around people that actually wanted me with them.

The woman smiled. "It's nice to finally meet you in person, Mr. Potter. I'm Draco's mother, Narcissa."

"Nice to meet you too, ma'am."

Mr. Malfoy then decided to make my things disappear before turning towards the rest of us. 

"Mr. Potter, please grab my arm. You will be aparating with me today to Malfoy Manor." Lucius extended the arm that was holding his wand, the other holding a cane I didn't see until now. I grabbed it gently, not wanting to hold on too strongly as I didn't know if that was proper ettiquitte or not, and winced when I felt the terrible squeezing I heard horror stories from. 

In seconds, we went from standing in the front gardens of Number Four to standing across from black gates and a path that lead to a large white mansion. A large garden was spread between here and the front door and I was sure there were more behind what looked to be a replica of the United State's White House. Large exotic birds were prancing around and cooing at each other, their brilliant fan of feathers trailing behind them as they trotted around the grounds.

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Harry," said Draco. "Try not to drool too much while your here."

"Don't really want to pay a damage fee, Drake," I said, rolling my eyes at his words.

"Come, let's go inside quickly," the blonde boy said, grabbing onto my elbow and I tried not to trip as we ran ahead of Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy to the manor.

Chapter Text

The grandeur of the manor (or was it a mansion?) was a different atmosphere compared to the Dursleys. Where, to Muggles, a three bedroom two bath house in the suburbs was living the dream, I was sure that the who-knows-how-many-rooms bedroomed who-knows-how-many-baths house in the middle of nowhere was easy living that all wizards strived to have. I must've shown my awe on my face as I noticed Draco puff out his chest in pride while the three of us entered the large manor.

Draco was eager to show me everything he could in the manor, tugging me down the halls and telling me whatever interesting tidbit he knew about that particular room as we walked past it. I felt like I should've been writing all of this down, just in case there was a quiz on this information.

"And this is going to be your room, Potter!" Draco said, walking through an ornate white door with a gleaming silver handle. It was much smaller than I thought a room would be in a house this size, but it was also not so small that I felt like I was back at my aunt and uncle's.

The flooring was dark hardwood, polished to shine brightly, with emerald green rugs in front of the sitting bow window and underneath the mahogany four poster bed. Curtains of similar green were curled and draped in front of the large bow window. A bookshelf, already filled with books just itching to be read, had been placed next to the bed. In the furthest corner was a wardrobe for me to put my clothes in and next to it was another door. I assume it was the bathroom, for I doubt that there needed to be a closet if there was already a wardrobe in the room.

"It's very nice," I said, glancing up at the intricate chandelier that stood in the middle of the room. "That won't fall if there's an earthquake, right?"

"Of course not!" Malfoy scoffed. "It's much more stable than anything a muggle could make!"

"Held up by magic, I'm guessing?"

"Elf magic, actually. But it could be considered ours," Malfoy explained. "I could ask father if he could give you permission to read some of our books in our private library that explains the importance of house elves and the house itself," he paused, eyes glancing away, before continuing," if you want, that is."

The little bit of warmth that had been creeping into my chest since the middle of first year showed it's face at his words and I tried my best to hide the smile that threatened to plaster itself on my face. So I just shrugged and muttered something under my breath before moving to set my things near the large bed in the room.

"Anyways," Draco continued, "I have a lot of things planned for us to do this summer, including your birthday party, of course. I hope you brought a bathing suit because we might be swimming in the lake at some point and I'll let you borrow one of our newer brooms for when we decide we want to play a quick pick-up game of Quidditch. Of course, father won't let us until our summer homewo..." 

I zoned out as Malfoy continued to drone on and on about our plans for the summer. I wasn't entirely too interested in some of the things but was thankful to be included. I had really wanted was to spend a summer away from the Durselys in a quiet place where I didn't have to do much to get a roof over my head.

"... and then we'll end our summer by going shopping for our second year things and then have a couple of last minute parties to attend and we'll be ready for second year!" Draco placed his hands on his hips, clearly impressed with his monologue but deflated slightly when he saw the look on my face.
"What's with the look, Potter?"

"Nothing. Just, do you have a timetable for all those things?"

"Of course! I would never plan something without it!"

"What a Granger-thing to do."

"Hey! Take that back!"

"I thought you and Granger were beginning to enjoy each other's company, though."

"That's besides the point!"

The routine at the Malfoy household was fairly easy to remember. Get up, get ready, eat breakfast with Narcissa (as Lucius was already at the Ministry doing important work), then spend most of the day doing something Draco had planned with lunch and snacks inbetween activities, then end the day with dinner with the Malfoy family as a whole and then go to bed. It was, in all actuality, something I didn't think would happen in such a posh family.

From doing this I learned a lot about all three.

Draco, despite his somewhat cocky attitude around others, really did enjoy some of the simpler things, even if he was sometimes a bit snappy at others when his energy was running low. He liked simple sandwiches, didn't mind getting dirty when the time called for it, and didn't seem to focus a lot of attention on his hair unless guests had come over. He was much more relaxed at home than at school and I found myself wondering when Summer Draco Malfoy will be replaced with School Draco Malfoy. Not that I don't particularly mind, but the switch would be odd to get used to again.

Narcissa was just as interesting as her son. She had the air of royalty when I first met her on the front porch of Number Four Privet Drive, that she had others do things for her than doing it herself. Yet, it was the complete opposite. Yes at times, she seemed as strict as an overpowered empress but only during the times that Draco was beginning to become rather bratty and I was feeling (admittedly) a little cranky or overly childish. But she was a woman that enjoyed the comforts. She liked to garden by hand, rather than let the house elves do the work. Her proudest achievement were the colorful rows of petunias and pansies that were blooming among the white and creme rose bushes. When she wasn't in the garden, she was in the family library or her study working on charity events and planning galas and parties of the like. She had also pulled me aside one day in the summer, sitting me down on one of the plush seats in her study, and calmly told me about my family history. I hadn't felt much of a connection with my family until then. 

Lucius, though while I haven't gotten as close to him as the rest of his family, was a stern but excellent father. While he could be gruff with his words and a bit harsh with others, you could tell that he really cared about his family. He never really rose a hand towards either Draco nor myself, the closest would be catching a wrist in a strong grip when it came close to hitting something breakable or to restrain the preteen urges of violence. While he hadn't let me near the family section of the large library, he had let me choose some books among the general section to read during my stay and let me question him on things I didn't understand. It was, honestly, a relief to get answers to questions that wouldn't be answered by professors or other adults.

Overall, I felt like this was a family and I was slowly becomming apart of it. It sent warm fuzzy feelings into my tummy.

The end of summer vacation was an odd sort of thing. It was only days before we had to go back to King's Cross to head back to Hogwarts when we finally went to Diagon Alley for our school supplies. The Malfoys let Draco and I wander around the Alley by ourselves after we visited Gringotts to get some of our other supplies until lunch, where we would eat and then get our new robes. 

We had been in nearing Flourish and Blotts for our books when we bumped into Granger and her parents. Literally. She had been explaining something to her parents, arms full of books, when she and I bumped into each other, Draco bumping into me and the books tumbling onto the cobblestones.

"Harry!" She smiled and hugged me, not even caring that her new books were now covered in dust and sand. "And Malfoy..." She gave an odd look towards the blonde boy but did nothing else other then reach down and pick up the books. I followed to help. 

"How has your summer been?" She asked us, after introducing us to her mother and father. "I just finished getting everything for school. I'm still debating on whether I should get a pet, though, but I'm having a hard time deciding between an owl or a cat."

"It's been well," I answered. "I spent half of it with Draco and his family. Thank you, for the present, by the way. It's a lovely gift." She had given me some sugar free candy and a muggle literature book on Shakespeare, which had been extremely interesting and much different from the wizarding fiction I had been reading the last few weeks.

"You're welcome. Sorry if you didn't like the sweets. My parents are dentists so sugar isn't something we get all the time."

"It's fine. I really like the strawberry ones and Draco liked the grape," I answered. Draco squawked besides me, face flushing, and gave me a glare and a pout before hitting my arm. I merely smirked and relished in his embarassment that he enjoyed muggle candy. I knew I would get his revenge later, but I revelled in this feeling.

"Oh, I didn't know you liked sweets, Malfoy," Granger said honestly. "I'll see about getting you some over Winter Hols then. Was there any other flavour you'd like?" She looked completely genuine and I wondered what was going on in that big brain of hers.

"...Watermelon..." he muttered, looking away, his arms crossed in front of him. 

"I'll keep my eye out for it then!" she smiled, then waved a goodbye as the Granger family moved to head home. 

We continued on our way into the bookstore and I noticed the long line and a loud, cocky voice eminating from the front of it. Lots of girls and women were giggling and ooo'ing at whoever it was, some fanning their red faces while others hid shyly behind books.

"What do you think all the hubub is?" I asked, curious. I tried to peek around a large group of older year girls but couldn't really seem to see anything. Something pushed me forwards, though, a sharp elbow of a rather excitable mother, and I stumbled and kept bumping through the large line until I was in the spotlights that had been erected in the store.

"It can't Harry Potter?"

I froze.

Chapter Text

Before I knew it I was being pulled into the the bright lights of cameras and excitable peers who excalimed happily at seeing the Boy-Who-Lived alongside some random man I didn't even know. As more flashes of light blinded me, I did happen to glance and see a sign that stood against the some of the shelves, reading:

GILDEROY LOCKHART

will be signing copies of his autobiography

MAGICAL ME

today 12:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m.

I took a glance next to me and saw a blond man, his hair fixed in a rather wavy style that made him look more pompous than anything else. He flashed a smile that, to others, made him look like a dazzling prince ready to save the princess from the dragon. To me, it wasunnerving to see and was definitely not at all attractive. The screaming of the women in the store told me otherwise, but I'm sticking to my own opinion.

Among the crowd I swore I saw a family of redheads watching. A part of me wanted to crawl into a whole and never return, for I know that I'm sure that Ronald would use this to his adventage. Another just didn't care.

"Nice big smile, Harry!" said Lockhart, who pulled me closer, his hand gripping my shoulder rightly. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."

I wanted to tear his hand off of my body. His words, smooth like honey, made me want to vomit. It wasn't at all like I wanted to be in the limelight and his grip felt too strong to get out of. I sent a look towards Draco, who looked lost on what to do himself. His father and mother were still somewhere else in Diagon Alley and we weren't supposed to meet at all until lunch. I hope that they happen to come around the store to see what the hubub is and help....

"Ladies and gentlemen!" The crowd went quiet, wanting to hear what the writer would say. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!"

He paused, for dramatic effect. I wanted to barf, because of that dramatic effect and the fact that he still hadn't stopped touching me. 

"When young Harry here," he gave a pat to my shoulder, "stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography - which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge!" The crowed clapped, and I swore I saw some women wiping away tears. This man was not a poet in any form, nor were his words that appealing! 

"He had no idea," Lockhart continued," that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

More clapping was heard and I forced my body to respond and pulled away from the author, pushing past people in the crowd until I managed to leave the store entirely. But even then I didn't stop running until I happened to find an empty, quiet alley away from view. 

I sit down, pulled my legs towards my chest, and rested my head on my folded arms. I took deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. I could still feel Lockhart's hands resting on my shoulder, the tight squeeze of a larger hand that was not welcome on my body. I could still feel the heat of the of his hand through my robes and I felt like vomiting again. 

Chapter Text

My legs felt cramped but I didn't feel like moving one bit. My back was beginning to ache but the desire to move was pushed back by the raging storm of anxiety swirling along with logical thought. I didn't know how long I've been sitting in this alley; the tremor of passing feet didn't deter me from my clouded thoughts nor did any person stop and tear me away from my inner conflict.

My nauseousness had been slowly ebbing away, but it still felt like the slightest movement would kickstart my stomach and cause whatever breakfast I still had to be regurgitated for the rats to eat. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

"Harry?"

I looked up, my neck stiff. Hermione was standing with her arms full of heavy bags, piled high with books and some other minor supplies. Behind her were her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who shared a look at each other, concern visible on their faces. Hermione was frowning, her eyebrows pushed together on her forehead.

"Are you alright?" she asked. She shuffled forwards, the heavy books weighing her down with each step.  "What are you doing here?"

"'M fine," I muttered, dislodging my locked limbs from each other, stretching out my legs as my arms fell to the side. "Just resting."

Hermione's frown deepened. "Okay, if you're sure..." she trailed off, shifting from one foot to the other. She looked around the alleyway I had found, wrinkling her nose as she noted the fowl stench that permeated from the opposite wall from where I sat. I hadn't noticed until now, but it did smell a lot like urine, old urine that had been stewing in the sun for days. I couldn't help but wrinkle my nose as well and stuffed it into the crook of my elbow as I stood, stumbling at the fuzzy feeling from my feet. Hermione quickly set her bags down and steadied me, her hands firmly planted on my arms.

"Thanks," I whispered out to her, reaching back for more stability as I wiggled my toes, trying to get the static to leave as quickly as possible. "Have you seen Draco?" I realize now that time did indeed pass long enough for my body to groan as I move, which meant that my current guardians might be freaking out about my whereabouts. A small part of my mind nagged at me, the bad part of my mind bringing dark thoughts of abandonment to the surface.

Hermione shook her head, curls flying in the sun. "I haven't seen nor heard of him since we saw each other two hours ago. If I did, I might've been a bit too busy searching Diagon Alley for hidden bookstores to find secret gems among them..." She looked sheepish and apologetic, the emotion genuine and pure. 

"Did something happen that caused you two to be separated?" Mrs. Granger suddenly asked. By this point, Mr. and Mrs. Granger were standing even closer, nearly directly behind their daughter. "You're more than welcome to stay with us until we find your guardians."

"I... I had a bit of a panic attack," Harry quietly admitted, looking straight down at the stones that littered the alleyway. "I think I ran away from the bookstore and... I don't know how long I've been gone." 

"Do you remember where you were supposed to meet afterwards?" Mrs. Granger asked again, coaxing out answers. It was a form of mothering that I hadn't experienced yet, as it was different from Narcissa but still somewhat similar. This was more of a soft voice added with gentle contact, while Narcissa was more of a calm voice with little to no contact. It could be that we were still very new to each other, but I noticed that Narcissa wasn't one for publid displays of affection, though I had guessed that had more to do with upbringing and status than a personal preference.

"After Draco and I were getting out supplies, we were supposed to meet up for lunch," I answered. "Then we'd get robes together with Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy before going home." 

Mrs. Granger hummed before straightening up, tugging down the bottom of her shirt. I didn't realize how short I was compared to everyone else until she stood tall. Both her and Mr. Granger were of average height, around 175 centimeters for both. Hermione was a few centimeters taller than me as well, making me the shortest out of all of us. I had thought I had a growth spurt this summer, but I was still quite short for a twelve year old. 

"Let's head to the food area, then, shall we?" Mrs. Granger suggested. "We'll see if the people you're looking for happen to be looking for you as well. If not, well, I'm sure we can find a constable around somewhere to help look."

"Muuuum," Hermione sighed. "They don't have constables here. They're called aurors."

"Oh yes, of course, how silly of me," Mrs. Granger said, though she rolled her eyes at her daughter's antics. She lead the way, Mr. Granger besides her while Hermione and I followed them like ducklings.

"Why did you run away?" Hermione asked, her voice low. She glanced up, looking at the backs of her parents heads, checking to make sure they weren't going to interrupt or listen. "I know you said you had a panic attack but... it wasn't anything... bad was it?"

I shook my head. "I feel a tad silly about it now," I admitted. "I met that Lockhart guy at Flourish and Blotts, you know, blond hair and fake teeth?" I took note of the dreamy look that appeared on her face before it was wiped away just as quickly. She nodded for me to continue.

"Well, he pulled me up and people just... started invading my privacy, starting taking pictures. It... It made me feel dirty. It didn't help that that odd bloke was very handsy with me and..." I trailed off, brows furrowing while trying to figure out my jumbled emotions. "I don't know, it just felt wrong."

Hermione reached out but pulled back, unsure.

"It's fine if you touch me, you know? You're my friend," I said. The smile that sprouted on her face was like turning on a brand new light bulb. She continued her actions and placed an arm around my shoulders, bringing me in for a side hug.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Harry," she said quietly. "Hopefully that will be the only time you ever have to deal with him."

"Unlikely. He's our new DADA teacher."

We managed to find the Malfoys before we even reached the first noticable cafe. Narcissa and Lucius looked cold and calculating but there was a hint of worry still marring their faces and attitudes, the twitchy hands of the Malfoy matriarch being the most noticable. Draco was frowning and didn't mind stompning up, image be damned, and scold me in front of dozens of wixen in public. (He later had to go through an hour long review that night about social decorum in public, but he admitted to not regretting it one bit).

"I'm relieved you're okay, Harry," Narcissa said, once they thanked the Grangers and gave them a quick farewell. "Do you mind telling us what spooked you so? Draco gave us some details but it would be nice to hear your side."

I gave her and her husband a quick retelling once we were in a secluded and private area in a cafe, chowing down on a turkey sandwich and a glass of pumpkin juice. The looks on their faces didn't change much, but Lucius did remark on the actions of Lockhart being highly inappropriate without a guardian around to approve of any interactions ("If you wish to press charges, I know only the best lawyers.")

At the end of the day, after being fitted and buying new robes for the school year and some casual wear clothes, I flopped on my bed at the Malfoy Manor, feeling exhausted.

Hopefully this school year won't be as weird as the last, nor as chaotic as today.

Chapter Text

I was awoken from a (thankfully) dreamless sleep by a body slamming onto the bed and shaking the whole frame. It wasn’t the rudest awakening I’ve ever had (thank you Dudley, for always being the best at giving a solid ‘good morning’ to the people that live with you. Surely, you’ll do wonderfully hosting a Bed and Breakfast), but it wasn’t ideal. 

Draco wasted no time in trying to pull me out of bed. 

“Come on, Potter!” he groaned, whipping the covers off of my body. “Once we eat breakfast we’re leaving to go to Hogwarts. If you’re not out in five minutes, I swear, I’ll feed your share to the peacocks!”

“Oh, what a threat, Malfoy,” I grumbled, glaring up at him. “How dare you give my extremely healthy meal to a couple of albino birds who look starved enough already.” I sat up anyway. “I’ll be down soon, just let me get dressed.”

Draco grinned and left in a swirl of overly expensive robes. I didn’t stop my eyes from rolling as I hopped out of bed and headed towards the bathroom that was connected to the room. A quick shower later, I was dressed and heading down the long staircase to the family dining room in the Malfoy household.

The family dining room was smaller than one would expect when first entering. It was still fairly large, in fact way larger than any dining room I had ever been in (not like I’ve been in many) but still felt rather cozy. Large open windows were on one side of the room, basking the long cedar table in the glow of the late morning light. The walls were as white as the Malfoy hair, and held portraits of various family members long deceased. Usually they weren’t around during breakfast, but it appeared that since it was a special day there were more than usual hanging about their frames and talking amongst each other.

A circular rug was underneath the dining table, emerald green with silver and gold detailed in shiny thin thread along the perimeter and on the scales of a basilisk that moved in the middle. The rectangular table only had six seats, two at each end and the rest on each side though normally the extra chairs were in storage unless guests were visiting. Already Mr and Mrs. Malfoy was sitting elegantly at the heads of the table while Draco did his best to reign in his excitement in one of the empty chairs. 

“Good morning Harry,” Mrs. Malfoy greeted, a polite smile on her face. I did my best to give one in return but I’m sure it looked more like a grimace than anything else. Mr. Malfoy did the same before he returned to the newspaper in his hand. Whatever it was he was reading sure seemed more important than the full English breakfast that was resting on his plate, uneaten. 

“Glad you could finally join us,” Draco teased, but his smile was more easy to return than his parents. A breakfast similar to his was left in front of the open seat in front of him, which I took and began to dig in.

The last few weeks allowed me to bring back my appetite from very little to finishing at least one full plate of food every meal. The food was lacking at the Dursleys. On a good day I was given leftovers that Dudley or Vernon wouldn’t dare touch or nearly expired food that looked questionable at best. I wasn’t picky, but it also wasn’t very filling. Especially on bad days, where a dry piece of burnt toast was my only option for the day until dinner, where I got, at best, a glass of milk and some overcooked vegetables (if I purposefully did so, that was only for me to know). 

“Are you excited for the new school year, Harry?” Mr. Malfoy asked, once I cleared half of my breakfast. 

Finishing the piece of food in my mouth, I swallowed and answered, “I’m as excited as I will ever be, Mrs. Malfoy. But I’m glad to be going back to learn more magic.”

“Hopefully it won’t be as chaotic as last year,” Draco said. He took a sip of his orange juice. “I mean, all those tests were very stressful, don’t you think?”

I gave him a weird look before he gave a subtle glance to his parents. Oh. Right.

“Yes, those tests were a bit much, but at least they’re helping us come to terms with what we need to focus on in terms of what we do and don’t understand,” I answered. 

I had nearly forgotten that Draco didn’t tell his parents at all what had happened in the cellar of the third floor classroom. His reasoning, of course, was sound. If his mother caught a small whiff of what had occurred, he’d be transferred to Durmstrang faster than he could say “Quidditch!”. Not even his father interfering with Hogwarts and Dumbledore himself would be able to stop it. 

Mrs. Malfoy just gave us a look, one I couldn’t decipher, but didn’t seem to comment. The rest of our breakfast went quickly, and after a few portraits wished us good luck for the new school year, the Malfoys and I were off to the train station.

Unlike last year, I went via floo. A god awful mode of transportation, but at least it wasn’t apparition. That was even worse. Felt like I was dying the first few times I had to suffer through it. 

The maroon train was just as magnificent and regal, and a feeling of longing warmed my chest as Mr. Malfoy helped put our trunks on the train. We weren’t the first to arrive, but most certainly not the last. 

I recalled last year, on this very day, where a bustling group of redheads went through the barrier nearly at the last minute. I had only arrived a few minutes prior and was just putting my trunk among the others, when I heard the cacophony and turned to see the mother give last minute hugs and reminders to her children before sending them off. A young girl, hiding around her skirts, had looked around frantically before her face crumpled to disappointment. 

Later I would come to find out that the Weasleys were usually the last one, unlucky with the size of their rambunctious family and the inability to usually be on time, but lucky enough to even enjoy the comforts of so many caring family members, as red as their hair might be. I, of course, took offense to that last comment (from Draco of course), as my own mother was a redhead.

Draco and I found a compartment near the front of the train and talked idly about whatever came to mind, as we did often during the summer when quidditch wasn’t being played.

“Honestly, having only one class with the Gryffindors would be a miracle,” Draco complained. “But knowing Dumbledore he’d try to get all our classes with them.”

“They’re not all bad,” I reasoned. “The twins are rather funny.”

Draco turned up his nose but made no comment.

“I just hope Defense is somewhat tolerable,” I admitted after a considerable amount of silence. By now there were more people clamoring onto the train and finding a compartment, mothers and fathers wishing a good school year to their children before they left for the next few months. “I don’t want to be in a room with Lockhart longer than necessary.”

“He is a little odd, that’s for sure.”

“He gives me the creeps.”

“He’s a fraud, that’s what,” a new voice said. 

At the door Blaise Zabini gave a crooked grin before sliding the compartment door shut, sitting next to me and propping his long legs up on Draco’s side.

“Have you even read any of the books he made us buy?” he continued. “There’s so many inconsistencies I wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled any of those ‘facts’ out of his arse and considered it a job well done!”

Draco scowled and scootched further from Blaise’s shoes. “I didn’t even open the books after we got them, they look like romance books. Mother seemed almost inclined to take mine to read herself over the summer.”

“Hermione wrote that they were rather good,” I said. “But I didn’t read mine either. Didn’t see the point.”

Blaise nodded. “Good. They’re not worth the brain cells. Utter shite.”

That got a laugh out of all of us. 

The train gave a warning call before I saw the familiar bustle of red hair among the thinning crowd. This time the little girl was carrying a trunk of her own and a taller man was with them, with long red hair that seemed the darkest out of all. He definitely wasn’t here last time.

I watched as they gave quick goodbyes, the twins easily hopping aboard before the rest followed, and only seconds after the last Weasley was on board, the Hogwarts Express was on its way.

Chapter Text

Hour 19: Miseri

The sorting went by quickly and dinner even quicker. Professor Dumbledore didn’t dally as long the year prior, which I was thankful for as I was actually feeling starved. The introduction of Lockhart to the rest of the school was a mixed reaction. Girls of all years were swooning and sighing when he stood and flashed a dazzling smile around the room while the boys gagged and groaned at the girls. I had to suppress a shiver when the man glanced at the Slytherin table before sitting back down beside Professor Snape, who looked just as dour to be next to him as I felt looking at Lockhart’s face.

I shared another look with the other boys in Slytherin once Dumbledore gained everyone’s attention once more, clapping his hands and spreading them wide and, with a few simple random words, dinner had appeared on every table. I made sure to take one of everything within my reach before scarfing it down (politely of course, there’s no way Draco would let me act anything like Ronald Weasley, even during the summer holidays). 

Once we finished and the usual warnings were given out, we filed out of the Great Hall and to the Slytherin common rooms. Unlike the year before, I didn’t have to wait for everyone to leave for the prefects to show us where the common rooms were. This time we could go straight up to the second year dorms and go straight to bed. 

Draco and Blaise were planning on staying in the common room for a few more minutes. I, however, was exhausted and wanted to go to sleep as soon as possible. Theo seemed to agree as he followed, hand trailing on the banister as he didn’t have his glasses on tonight, and soon we were ensconced under emerald sheets. Gregory and Vincent were already snoring away, having raced to the dorms as soon as we were released.

I had forgotten how much I missed the Slytherin dorms. The richness of Malfoy Manor and the drab and tasteless decor of the Dursley household held nothing to the ambience that the dorms could produce. It was dark, yes, and there seemed to be a lit lantern everywhere you looked, but it didn’t at all hold any form of malice or eerie feelings behind it. Despite how dark it was on the carriage ride to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade Station, there was still a glow peeking through the water that made it to the glass windows in our room. It glowed like firelight, embracing the room in comfort and a warmth that’s difficult to describe, but one you could feel at the base of your chest and spread to the rest of your limbs. It was oddly beautiful looking out into the dark depths of the water, both when it was day and night; the swaying kelp and weeds almost hypnotizing, beckoning you closer, as if wanting to snatch you and bury you to its ever darkening depths.

I had closed most of the curtains but kept a part open, a window of sorts so I could watch the small fish dart across the glass that rested between mine and Draco’s bed and through the kelp beds like silk. Their blurry shapes were the last things I saw before I allowed sleep to drag me under.

***

The first day of term was nothing special, compared to last year. I felt a little sorry for the First Years, having no day for them to explore before scrambling to find out where their classrooms would be. But it was quickly gone once I was given my own schedule and had to scramble to find the second year classrooms. The only similar classroom was potions, as it was hard to make multiple rooms suitable for brewing. An older year, a sixth year I think, boasted about moving rooms for the N.E.W.T level potion rooms, so I guess that’s something to look forward to if I plan to continue with potions.

The first day went by quickly, with potions right before lunch, then History of Magic right after, and it was off to the library for a jump start on homework. Hermione was glad to join us, dragging Neville with her as she stacked books upon books on top of each other from each shelf she came upon before setting them on the table.

“I’m looking up classes for next year,” she explained, once she saw the looks from Draco and Neville (the former looking disgusted while the latter looked pale at the amount of texts). “Third Years get to choose electives, and I want to make sure I choose the right one before it’s too late.”

“I’m sure they have a process to drop or add classes if there isn’t a right fit,” I said. “Otherwise it would be torture and how dare school not be fun.”

Hermione did not look very pleased at my statement.

The second day was worse.

Herbology first thing was fine, even if Draco was extra grouchy (“Plants are fine when it comes to potions, but do we seriously need to touch the darn things when they’re still covered in dirt? And mandrakes are awfully loud, why do we need to torture ourselves with this on our first day?”) and we had to dodge Lockhart trying to sweet talk Professor Sprout and then myself once he realized I was there. Of course I ignored him and continued to Greenhouse Three, as was instructed. In Transfiguration, McGonnagal went over the second year syllabus for half of the class until we practiced first year spells as a yearly warm up before we were excused for lunch.

“I wonder what Lockhart has in store for us today,” Hermione said, bouncing in front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts second year classroom. She and the other second year girls seem to be the only ones excited to meet the Most Charming Smile award winner.

“Probably the same rubbish that we’ll read in his books,” Draco sniffed. “Honestly, have you even read the things he’s written about?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’ve read every single book of his we needed for his class, of course I know what’s in it. It’s certainly plausible.” She gave him a pointed look. “How can you honestly doubt the talents of a teacher?”

“He’s very full of himself, though,” I put in. “You have to admit that he flaunts everything he can just so he can have the attention on him. I doubt there’s a good bone in his body to do even half of what he claims he has done.”

“Honestly, Harry, he’s famous. Of course he’d want to flaunt it,” was Hermione’s reasoning before the doors to the DADA room opened for us. 

We all clambered in and I made sure to stack all seven of his books on top of each other in an attempt to hide my face from Lockhart and his face from me. It’s bad enough his voice gets on my nerves but his face was unsettling, like a waiting snake wanting to strike on its prey and its prey was me.

Draco snickered as he sat next to me and Hermione merely rolled her eyes, sitting in front of us while Neville took a spot on her left. A Gryffindor boy with dark hair and even darker skin sat on her right. Pansy sat on my left. 

Once everyone was seated Lockhart swept into the room, lavish robes billowing around him like a peacock (poor peacocks, being compared to this guy) and the room went silent. A book fell over and the man reached down and picked up the copy, handing it to Neville who was stammering apologies, taking the copy of Travels with Trolls. Or tried to at least.

Professor Lockhart held it up. 

“Me!” he said, winking at the class. The girls swooned and I held back a gag when I saw even Hermione falling for it. “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her,” he joked. He gave a large pause, as if waiting for laughter. Sorry buddy, but we’re 12, your flirtatious jokes won’t work on us that well.

“I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books,” he continued. “Well done. I thought we’d start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about - just to check how well you’ve read them, how much you’ve taken in…” Lockhart began to hand out the papers with a flick of his wand.

Looking at the paper, written with purple ink, I was surprised to see all the useless questions being asked. What is Gilderoy Lockhar’s favorite color? What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart’s greatest achievement today? Why not include ‘Which hand does Gilderoy Lockhart say he wipes his butt with in Voyages with Vampires?’ while he’s at it?

Thirty minutes later he was tutting as he read the answers everyone gave. 

“Hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac.”

What, you mean it’s not nightingale-brown?

“And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully - I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples--”

Bad idea buddy, you clearly never set foot in the Muggle world.

“But Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions!”

Of course she did.

“Good girl!”

Ew.

“In fact…” Lockhart flipped over her paper and continued to read through it. “Full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?”

Her hand was in the air, the shakiest I’ve ever seen.

“Excellent!” beamed Professor Lockhart. “Quite excellent! Take ten points for Ravenclaw!” Hermione blushed a bright pink, hiding behind her bushy hair and her own stack of books as Lockhart continued with his lesson.

He drew our gazes to a shaking cage covered in dark blue fabric that was now resting on the desk in the front of the classroom. 

“Now, be warned!” he said dramatically, giving a wink to the class. “It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm.”

Lockhart placed his hand on the cover on the cage, stopping it from shaking off the desk. He gave another dramatic speech but I was too concerned about wondering what dangerous thing this obviously narcissistic and unqualified man was trying to sic on us.

In seconds the cover was whipped off, revealing ugly blue creatures crammed in a cage too small for them. There had to be at least eleven or twelve of them in there, growling and agitated at their confined space, arms gripping the iron bars or swinging about at each other or towards the blond professor. A sheen glimmered on the back of each one, wings about half their size pressed against their backs, twitching and buzzing as some attempted to fly around their cage.

“Freshly caught Cornish pixies!” Lockhart exclaimed, puffing out his chest.

A Gryffindor boy snorted.

“Yes?” he smiled towards the boy.

“Well, they’re not… they're not very… dangerous are they?” the boy tried to get out through fits of laughter.

“Don’t be so sure!” Lockhart warned, waggling a finger. “Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!”

They looked more pissed off to be here than devilish.

Our reaction must’ve not been satisfactory for him because in seconds Lockhart spelled the cage open and suddenly the blue pixies were flying around the room. They destroyed artifacts, slashed paintings, turned over desks and chased students. 

Draco began to freak out, hiding under our desk and crawling to the door in an attempt to escape. Blaise lost his robe to the pixies in his attempt to get to the door with the fellow students, and poor Neville had been lifted up and was hanging from the large chandelier in the room. Pansy was screeching so loudly it was hard to tell her apart from the pixies zipping around the room and causing chaos and ruin in their wake.

One got too close and I panicked, grabbing one of my books and smacking it across the pixie’s body, sending the poor thing to the other side of the room. It slammed into Lockhart’s chest and sent him backwards and into a stack of his own books. I wasn’t able to enjoy that satisfaction of seeing him stumble and fail before another pixie was coming at me and I was once again proving I could easily be a beater for the Slytherin quidditch team if I so chose this year.

Lockhart laughed despite being winded from a pixie to the chest. “Come on now! Round them up, round them up, they’re only pixies!” he shouted. Then he rolled up his sleeves, pointed his wand and said:

“Peskipiksi Pesternomi!”

It did absolutely nothing.

In fact, a few pixies watched his attempt and their laughter sounded like nails on a chalkboard before they raced down and grabbed his wand from his hand. They flew around the room with it before throwing it out a window and returned to cause more mischief and mayhem to the poor defense room. Neville was still somehow hanging by his robe and had yet to fall.

The professor dodged under his desk by then and with a rip, Neville came crashing down on top of it, groaning in pain in his ruined Hufflepuff robes. 

The only one who seemed somewhat in control was Hermione, who was using a freezing charm on nearby pixies and putting them back in the cage. She tried to get some of the others to try but got frustrated and left them to their own fates when they claimed they didn’t know said charm. 

Smacking another pixie, I called out “I’ll hit them your way, Hermione, just get them back in.”

She nodded in acknowledgement and in minutes all pixies were still frozen (and most likely a bit bruised once a few more students began whacking them Hermione’s way) and sitting in a cage on Lockharts now broken desk. Neville was glad to get off and limp to a chair to sit and rest his body. 

“I’ll have to ask Gran to buy me another one to replace this one,” he moaned, looking at the huge rips in the fabric. “She’s already upset she had to send all the stuff I forgot at home.”

“If she takes issue, I’ll ask Father to send some himself,” Draco offered, trying to smooth his hair back into its usual style. “Honestly, starting the school year off with pixies? What was that man thinking!”

“Probably nothing at all,” I put in. “He’s a complete dunce!”

The rest of the year agreed as we filed out of the classroom (well, minus Hermione and some of the other girls still enamored with the professor). 

A completely useless dunce is a worse professor than a professor with Voldemort on the back of his head.