Chapter Text
“What the bloody hell did you do to yourself, Potter?”
Harry lifted his head.
Draco Malfoy was standing in the open doorway to Harry’s compartment. For some unfathomable reason the blonde boy felt the compelling need to check in on Harry after the summer holiday for some odd reason. The two of them weren’t even friends more acquaintances really. Being in the same house meant they spent a lot of time with one another.
“Hello, Malfoy how are you? Did you have a nice summer? And why yes, I had a lovely summer, thank you so much for asking,” Harry drawled, reluctantly closing the book he’d been reading to give the other Slytherins his attention.
Zabini snorted in the background, and Malfoy shot the other boy a dark look. Goyle just stared blankly into the compartment, and Crabbe picked a piece of lint from his robes sniffing it before letting it fall to the floor. It was nice to see some things never changed.
“Yes, yes it was nice. Now what did you do to yourself?” Malfoy demanded, his pale gray eyes raking over Harry’s tall, lean frame.
To Harry’s annoyance the blonde boy actually took a step in to the compartment.
“I haven’t done anything to myself. I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Harry did have a clue about what Malfoy was talking about but he did so enjoy working the blonde Slytherin up.
“You’ve done something to your hair! And you look…” Malfoy trailed off, pale features flushing a dark red.
“Look what? And if you really must know, Malfoy. I got a decent haircut over the summer hols, and I’m not wearing my glasses anymore but I’m pretty sure you could make that out for yourself,” Harry smirked.
Over the summer Harry had finally taken the plunge and corrected his eyesight. Theo had told him during his first year about the potion to correct his eyesight after the third time Harry needed to Reparothem. However, Harry hadn’t wanted to do it. All of the pictures he’d seen of his dad, James Potter had been wearing glasses. Wearing his glasses had made Harry feel closer to the father he’d never gotten the chance to remember.
After five years Harry finally decided enough was enough. The glasses were more of a hindrance than a reminder of his dad. Harry had pictures of James Potter now. He had Remus and Sirius to tell him about his parents. So he ordered the potion, and within a week he no longer needed the large, thick glasses he used to hide himself behind.
Between his long wild tangle of black curls, and the large round spectacles Harry could effectively shield himself. It was a barrier between himself and the world around him.
Harry took things a step further and decided he’d done enough shielding himself from the world. For the first time since his aunt had given him an awful haircut as a child he got it cut, by an actual professional.
Harry didn’t think the simple changes would be a big deal, however, Malfoy’s, and even Zabini’s, expression said differently. Harry hadn’t thought he looked that different but then he did routinely see himself without glasses and with his hair pulled back when others hadn’t. He supposed his long curls, and large thick glasses had done a pretty decent job hiding the top half of his face from people over the past five years.
Several long moments passed. Malfoy was still staring intently at him.
“Er, right, so do you need anything else? Because the staring is getting a little creepy now,” Harry arched an eyebrow at the blonde boy.
Malfoy flushed a brighter red, Harry hadn’t thought it possible, and finally tore his gaze away from Harry’s face.
“No, I think we’re all set, thanks. You made a good decision, Potter,” Zabini smirked and winked.
“Thanks, Zabini, I treasure your opinions about my appearance,” Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m going to get back to my reading now.”
Harry dismissed the gawking Malfoy, and returned his attention to his book on spell crafting.
The Slytherins’ quickly retreated from Harry’s compartment after that. Harry was once more left on his own just like preferred.
The rest of the train ride to Hogwarts passed uneventfully. Harry was able to make great headway in the spell crafting text he’d stumbled upon in Knockturn Alley when buying his school supplies. The text was old and missing the binding, and several pages, which is why Harry had gotten such a good deal on it.
His fingers twitched with the urge to put the mechanics outlined in the book in to practice.
“Where were you?”
Harry glanced up.
Hermione Granger’s arms were crossed, and annoyance crinkled her brow.
“Reading,” Harry offered, knowing quite well the Gryffindor wouldn’t be able to resist a good book.
Hermione and he had become friends during their first year. Harry was an outcast in Slytherin for having Gryffindor parents and being a muggle raised Half-Blood. Hermione had been a know-it-all Gryffindor. The two of them formed a bond during their long hours in the library together.
However, they weren’t as close as they might have been. Things changed on Halloween of their first year. An incident with a troll saw Hermione become fast friends with Weasley and Longbottom. She didn’t shun Harry once she became friends with them. In fact she’d tried to get all four of them to be friends. But Longbottom and Weasley hadn’t exactly been interested in being friends with a snake. Harry likewise hadn’t been enthused about being friends with them. He didn’t hate them or anything they just weren’t Harry’s cup of tea. The other boys didn’t take their studies seriously, and Harry had been determined to prove himself to his fellow Slytherins since he was an outcast amongst their ranks.
Weasley, Longbottom, and Harry tolerated one another for Hermione’s sake but they never spent time together without her around. As the years passed they stopped spending any time together even if Hermione was present. Hermione eventually learned to spend time with them separately.
“Oh, what are you reading?” as anticipated Hermione was instantly distracted.
They discussed the text for several long moments, and just as predicted the conversation about complex spell crafting put the bushy haired girl at ease.
“What was it you needed again?” Harry asked innocently, once he was sure the girl was no longer angry.
“You missed the tea with the new professor,” Hermione huffed, she was too busy leafing through Harry’s book to truly be angry with him anymore.
“Oh, that, how was it? What is Professor Slughorn like?” Harry had received an invitation to a small get together with Professor Slughorn during the train ride. Harry truly had meant to go for curiosity’s sake but he seemed to have gotten too wrapped up in his book. However, he wasn’t too disappointed that he’d missed it either.
“He’s interesting, knowledgeable, and very well connected. He’s a collector I suppose, a collector of people that is. He invited only students with high connections in the Ministry or with high rankings in class. The entire time he spoke about all of the famous witches and wizards he’s taught, and the things they send him. Apparently he does these little dinners monthly. The Slug Club he called it,” Hermione explained.
“The Slug Club. Are you going to join?”
“I believe so, yes. He invites former students to these dinners, and it would be a great opportunity for me to get a good internship in the Ministry once we graduate,” Hermione nodded.
“Hmm, maybe I’ll go once, see what it’s like.”
“Yes, you should. You’re the only one who can somewhat keep Malfoy’s ego in check,” Hermione rolled her eyes.
“I don’t think anyone is up to that particular task.”
Hermione snorted. “He looks up to you.”
It was Harry’s turn to snort. “Malfoy? Look up to me?”
“Yes, you’re the first in our year. No matter how much I try to beat you. You’re always the first to perform a spell in class,” Hermione scowled, but her eyes twinkled with mirth.
“Which I have to thank you for. Our rivalry has helped push me,” Harry’s words were entirely truthful. His and Hermione’s good-natured rivalry had pushed Harry to go above and beyond. Hermione was the first person he’d ever met who actually challenged his own natural intelligence. Of course Harry far surpassed her when it came to magical power. Not that Harry had entirely revealed the true depth of his power just yet.
“I don’t know how you’ve never noticed that Malfoy is always trying to impress you,” Hermione added.
“Huh, is that what all the bragging is about?” Harry hummed thoughtfully.
“I believe so. But enough about Malfoy. How was your summer?” Hermione questioned, her fingers were restless.
“Tolerable,” Harry answered neutrally.
The Dursleys and he had long come to an understanding. They left Harry alone, he left them alone. Harry had learned about the Knight Bus during his first year, and he’d been using it to bring him to Diagon Alley during the summers ever since. He spent most of his days there wandering the alley, and shops, reading and learning everything he could.
“What about yours?” Harry asked politely. Was Hermione nervous about something?
“It was nice. I actually spent it with your godfather,” Hermione whispered the last part.
Harry had only met Sirius Black in person twice considering he was a wanted mass murderer and all. The first time had been at the end of his third year. In the middle of the night Dumbledore had come to fetch him. The headmaster had brought him to meet Sirius Black at Sirius’s request before he had to go in to hiding.
The prisoner of Azkaban had been believed to escape to finish his master’s work, and kill the Boy Who Lived, Neville Longbottom. But this was far from the truth. No instead he’d escaped to protect Harry from the man who had truly been responsible for his parents’ deaths: Peter Pettigrew. The cowardly wizard had been masquerading as Ron Weasley’s pet rat. Sirius was innocent. It had been Peter Pettigrew who revealed the Potters’ location to the Lestranges.
Sirius had nearly had Pettigrew but Professor Lupin who turned out to be a werewolf had attacked Hermione, Weasley, and Longbottom. Unfortunately, in the pandemonium Pettigrew had gotten away, and therefore Sirius could not be fully pardoned by the Ministry. Harry’s godfather had to go in to hiding but he promised to stay in touch, which he did.
They exchanged letters frequently. Sirius had great stories to share about Harry’s parents, and older wizard was the only adult Harry had ever had to confide in.
The second time they met was during Harry’s fourth year. Sirius had given him a mirror. The mirror was connected to a matching one that Sirius had in his possession. The two of them were able to communicate more frequently than just letters after that. They spoke a couple of times a week at least.
“You did?” Harry tilted his head, he felt a sharp spike of anger course through him.
Sirius had alluded to the fact that other people were staying with him this summer. His godfather had finally settled into a secure location in his family’s old home. Sirius had wanted to have Harry come stay with him this past summer. They had been making plans for just that when his morose godfather informed him that Harry could no longer come to stay. Dumbledore, who was helping to hide Sirius, didn’t think it was a good idea.
“Yes,” Hermione nodded.
“Why?” What Harry really wanted to ask was why hadn’t he been invited as well. Sirius was his godfather.
“Well, it’s rather difficult to explain, and I’m not really supposed to,” Hermione straightened her spine.
Harry knew Hermione’s desire to follow the rules, and her desire to be a good friend were warring within her. The fact that she had even brought it up was huge. Hermione only ever told him the bare minimum facts about her misadventures with Weasley and Longbottom. Harry didn’t begrudge her this since he knew how much she valued friendships, and so he never pried.
But now? This? This was his godfather, and he couldn’t help but be angry. “You wouldn’t have brought it up if you weren’t going to say anything.”
Hermione took a deep breath. “You know about how Neville, Ron, and I, and a few others left Hogwarts suddenly at the end of last year?”
Harry nodded. There had been some commotion about the group of Gryffindors disappearing in the middle of the night. No one really knew what happened. There were rumors of course. However, Harry thought they were too outlandish to believe. Breaking in to the Ministry seemed to be too crazy even for Longbottom and his cohorts.
“We went to the Ministry. Neville was lured there by visions sent to him from Voldemort,” Hermione whispered.
“Voldemort?” Harry lifted a single eyebrow. “Does this have anything to do with what the Daily Prophet’s been writing about Longbottom and Dumbledore? That they’ve gone completely off their rockers by declaring Voldemort’s come back from the dead?”
“They haven’t! What the Dailey Prophet is printing is all lies! When I get my hands on Rita Skeeter,” Hermione hissed vehemently.
“Wow, tell me how you really feel, Hermione,” Harry held his hands up in supplication.
“My apologies. It’s just been difficult hearing the way they’re defaming Neville and Professor Dumbledore. I witnessed the events with my own eyes, and the Ministry still refuses to believe it,” Hermione shook her head.
“What happened?” Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested.
He knew all about Voldemort. The former Dark Lord was indirectly responsible for his own parents’ deaths. After the dark wizard had been killed in his attack of the Longbottoms, his most faithful followers had turned their attentions to the Potters in a bid to discover what happened.
The Lestranges and Barty Crouch Jr. had attacked his parents. James Potter was killed in a duel with the Lestrange brothers but Harry’s father had succeeded in taking Rabastan Lestrange with him. Lily Potter had died at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange and Crouch Jr. The muggleborn witch had left the beautiful Bellatrix with a nasty scar across her face. Before they could harm Harry the Aurors had arrived to arrest them.
Harry’s knowledge of the wizard wasn’t all bad things either. It was impossible not to hear the good things after having spent five years in Slytherin. His fellow Slytherins were always whispering about how great the Dark Lord had been, what a shame it was that he’d been stopped before his vision could be completed, and how terrible it was that he was gone now.
“Voldemort lured Neville to the Ministry through visions of his father being tortured,” Hermione began.
“Hermione, last I time checked Voldemort was dead. He’s been dead since Halloween night 1981,” Harry snorted.
“Not exactly, he came back,” Hermione sighed.
“He came back? When? How?”
“First year.”
“First year! That’s five years, Hermione! How is that possible?”
Hermione rubbed her forehead. “The Philosopher’s Stone.”
“Philosopher’s Stone… Is that why you were so keen to research Nicholas Flamel at the end of the year?” Harry’s brain rapidly made the connection. He keenly remembered being pulled in to Hermione’s fevered research of the alchemist. It had sparked his own interest in alchemy.
“Yes, Professor Dumbledore was hiding it in the third floor corridor. That’s why it was forbidden that year. Voldemort had already tried stealing it from Gringotts. Professor Dumbledore offered to hide it here.”
“Obviously that wasn’t successful,” Harry drawled.
“No,” Hermione sighed.
“How did he get it? How was he even alive to get the stone in the first place? Or get inside Hogwarts for that matter?”
“He was a wraith, and he was possessing Professor Quirrell,” Hermione explained.
“Professor Quirrell…” Harry felt a sliver of ice slide down his spine.
He remembered the abrupt revelation that Professor Quirrell wouldn’t complete the rest of the year and wouldn’t return the next year either. Was Hermione right? Could the reason why he left so suddenly be because he’d been possessed by Voldemort?
“Yes, Professor Quirrell,” Hermione nodded.
“Voldemort got the stone, and what made a new body?”
“Yes, however, I don’t know how. Professor Dumbledore didn’t tell us how.”
“Right, but that was four years ago. What has he been doing since then? Why wait so long to attack the Ministry?”
“Professor Dumbledore believes he wants to consolidate power, and gather strength before revealing himself.”
“Why did he reveal himself at the end of last year then? Or well I guess he didn’t really reveal himself since no one but your group actually saw him or believes he’s back,” Harry frowned.
“He wanted a prophecy from the Hall of Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries. He needed Neville to get it for him,” Hermione explained.
Harry shook his head. “Prophecy?”
“I don’t know it,” Hermione answered.
“Thank you for telling me what you know, Hermione. I appreciate it,” Harry was grateful for the information.
Contact with Sirius had been sporadic this summer, and his godfather hadn’t said a thing about Voldemort being back to him in the last two years they’d known one another. A spike of pain struck Harry at the thought. Why wouldn’t his godfather share such important information with him? Didn’t he trust Harry?
“You deserve to know,” Hermione murmured sincerely.
Harry couldn’t help but think that the cat was out of the bag anyway. Dumbledore and Longbottom were publically declaring the return of Voldemort. Hermione was giving him the true story. Harry doubted Rita Skeeter was going to deliver an entirely factual story in the Dailey Prophet.
Hermione lingered a little while longer. They spoke about what they were hoping to study this year. Harry didn’t share everything he was hoping to study with Hermione. He hadn’t since third year when he started looking in to dark magic. It was inevitable. Slytherins from the older, darker families would often discuss such magic in the common room. Harry’s desire to learn magic his ambition and curiosity demanded to learn even this forbidden area of magic.
Harry acquired dark magical texts from Knockturn Alley, and from Theo. The dark magic came as easily to him as the magic in class did. Sometimes it felt easier. Part of Harry worried about the ease with which he could perform dark magic. The larger part of him didn’t care. Magic was magic, and this was a belief that only solidified within him as he grew older.
The Hogwarts Express finally pulled in to Hogsmeade Station, and Harry smiled to have finally returned home.