Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry James potter had been dead before. Long before he had gained the consciousness to express himself. Long before he could speak actual words instead of baby babble. He had died before he could reach a year old. No one alive knew that. 

They made assumptions. Horrible assumptions. They thought that peter Pettigrew was the one who had saved him from Voldemort that night. As if the man hadn't opened the door for him. Eager to please his lord. 

They assumed peter killed Voldemort. As if that coward had any power at all. What really killed him was going after deaths’ chosen. A child with bright eyes, too bright, one might say. Harry was the only one who hadn't died that night. It was assumed that he wouldn't remember anything at all. 

That he wouldnt remember the sound of their voice as they crept up the stairs. Peter eagerly offering to grab his small body from his crib. The quick, silent flash of green as voldemort killed him. Followed by a long, spindlly wand benign pointed at his face. 

Another flash of green blinded him as the man cast his favorite spell. Only, as deaths’ chosen, it rebounded. Harry’s soul was still torn from his body, but he was bound to be stuffed back in. Voldemort's own soul drug out with the power death had imbued Harry with. An act that’d have consequences for him later in life, but that was neither here nor there. 

Harry had died then, with that flash of sickly, bright green. Drawing him closer to the veil where death and the dead resided. So, close he could hear the whispers. So, close he could feel the unnatural cold filtering through.

“ Aw, young master. It is not yet your time to meet me.” the being had whispered after snatching the pieces of Voldemort’s soul that had left his body. 

He scooped Harry's softly glowing soul up into his skeletal hands and set him back down into his body. For that moment, when death had held him oh, so very gently, Harry had felt warm and safe. Then he was back in his body, pain pulsing through every part of him. 

A wail left his mouth, his eyes tearing up and blocking his vision, but not before he had gotten a glimpse at the body on his floor. Peter was a cold, lifeless corpse, cooling on the dust covered carpet. His eyes wife open and glassy, staring unseeingly at the open, star spattered sky. 

It was unknown, how long he had sat in his crib surrounded by rubble and the stench of death. Blood beading down his face from the scar left by the killing curse. Whimper’s and whines coming from his mouth as he suffered. 

His parents and dumbledore had shown up, but he didnt remember much after that. Though it wasnt through memories that he was remembering such things, but his dreams. Sometimes they were so realistic, he felt he could touch his surorundings. 

It was noticeable, as he got older, how different he was. Even when he was young. Especially once his younger siblings were born. Almost a year after him came the lourdest baby harry had ever heard. Following his brother, came their sister. 

It was noticeable by then, how much he differed. With his quietness and his bright green eyes. With his scarred face and cold skin. He was the only one of his siblings to have their mother’s green eyes, though they were a much brighter shade. 

Both of his siblings had similar eyes to their father. Charlus with his caramel brown eyes and rosemary with her hazel eyes. He was different and not in a good way. 

***

“Are you excited for Hogwarts, Harry?” lily had asked one night before he turned eleven. 

It was out of the blue, as his father and Charlus had been having another conversation about quidditch. He was very much not listening to anyone but his own thoughts. 

Sp he had had to pause, some chicken stuck on his fork. He ignored the howling he could hear outside, something much shriller than a werewolf and only he could hear it. He had to swallow before he replied. 

“I suppose.” he murmured, setting his fork back down. 

“You suppose?!” Charlus asked outraged. “What do you mean  ‘I suppose ’?  I for one can't wait and am so excited! Mom, you said they let second year’s do quidditch right? What about the clubs?” 

Harry swallows the chicken he had had on his fork and goes back to not listening. His eyes glowing softly as the thing howling outside finally got the courage to try their wards. He doesn't look, knowing it's pointless. 

“Well, Harry? Do you want to go with your father and Charlie to visit Gringotts tomorrow?” his mother asks, setting her fork over her empty plate. 

He frowns, he absolutely did not want to go to gringott’s. That place was so overcrowded and the goblins always murmured to him. He steadfastly ignores the sharp prick of awarness as the shrieking thing dares to step inside. He refrains from sending it a sharp look. 

“No, thank you.” he responds, hoping they’d drop it. They didn't. 

“Why not?” Charlus asks, once more adding himself to the conversation. 

“I don't like the bank.” he countered. 

Lily and James frown heavily at that. James opens his mouth to speak, but Lily does instead. 

“Okay, Harry. You don't have to.” she says, probably hoping to keep the peace. 

Only James sends her a frown instead. He sighs soundlessly, finally looking at the thing that had been shrieking. 

“ You must be afraid!” it shouts, black goo sloshing out of its open mouth. He sighs again, still soundless. He blinks at the thing, then turns away. He places his fork across his empty plate and stands. 

“Thank you for dinner.” he murmurs into the open air of the dining room, knowing the kitchen elves will hear him. 

***

When Harry could talk, he made the mistake of asking about his recently passed great grandfather, Henry Potter. He could see the man floating above his father, gazing down at him with white eyes. The elderly man had been smiling warmly at him, so he figured there’d be no harm. 

Except his parents had freaked out. They had scoured the house and asked him so many different questions. Ghosts’-the ones normal people could see- couldn't sustain themselves in such a new place as their house. Albus Dumbledore had been floo’d and more questions had been asked. 

See the consequences that came with being death’s chosen and seeing the veil at such an early stage led to some interesting happenings.  Harry could see things, things that most people couldn't. 

He could see the ghost’s too weak to hold a visible form. He could see empty creatures that prowled through the field outside his window. He could sense death. It made him more reliant on magic. It made him sick, not that they ever knew that. 

His parents didnt hold any understanding with what was wrong with him. As he hadn't needed as much magic to sustain himself as he did as he grew up. 

But by the time he was seven, he needed there to be at least three fully grown wixen around him. Otherwise, he’d start to feel the consequences of that night on his body. A pounding headache, aching joints, nausea, breathlessness, the cold. His body ached like he was sick with the muggles flu. Sensitive to the lightest touch. 

Sometimes he’d break out in cold sweats or have a fever. It got a little better as his brother and sister aged as well. He could siphon some magic from them, but only a little, or he risked harming their magical cores. 

He suffered, but he was fine. It wasnt like anything could be done. He just had to hold out until his godfathers next visit or until hogwart’s. And he could, he would. 

***

“What house do you think you’ll be in?” Rosie asks curiously as he sits across from her at the dining room table. 

“I don't know. Probably not Hufflepuff.” he answers. Though it is partially a lie. With his whole being, he knows he’ll probably be put into Slytherin. He’s resourceful. He can lie. He has self-preservation, and he was cunning enough to escape any notice about his unnaturalness. 

“I hope I get into Ravenclaw, but Hufflepuff and Gryffindor would probably be fine. Mom says even if we’re sorted into Slytherin, she’d love us.” 

“Mom is right.” he says, adding but only for you.  

If he was sorted into Slytherin, he’d probably be disowned or put under suspicion. They’d dislike him even more than they already did. 

Rosie smiles at him,” where do you think Charlus will go?” 

“Gryffindor.” he responds.” our brother is the definition of Gryffindor.” 

She giggles, her little face lighting up.” he is! He’s just like dad. Their both completely ridiculous.” 

He smirks,” they are.” 

A silence falls around them. He gets through three pages of his book, before she speaks again. 

“Harry. If you're sorted into Slytherin, I'll still love you.” she whispers, not looking up. 

Suddenly he’s fighting off tears. His eyes sting and his throat feels thick. Her bright hazel eyes stare at him imploringly. 

“Thank you. I’d love you no matter what house you went into. Or if you don't go to Hogwarts. You’ll always be my little sister.” he murmurs. 

She beams at him and returns to her work. He swallows thickly and tries to go back to his book. 

***

When Harry was six, he discovered a garden snake tucked away under his mom’s rose bushes. He had been playing with some figurines, make believe would take him far away from the looks he got from his parents when they thought he wasn't looking. 

It's a little green thing, with black eyes and a split tongue. It's the first time he’s seen a snake in real life instead of in a book. He’s curious, his hands drop his toys as he moves closer. 

“ Hello.” he goes to say, not noticing anything different about his speech. 

The little snakes head perk’s up,” hello. Child, how do you ssspeak?” it asks. 

Harry frowns, his chubby little face bunching up.” with my mouth?” he says hesitantly. 

The snake makes an odd noise at his reply, but continues speaking.” yesss, I can sssee that. I wasss under the impression that all the ssspeaker’sss had returned to the homeland after the masssacre that happened a few yearsss ago.” 

The little boy stares in disgruntled confusion. He won't know until later that lord voldemort had hunted all known parseltongue’s down, so he was the only one left. He’ll read it in the history book’s, followed by how peter pettigrew–the traitor–was a hero in his own right. 

“ I dont underssstand? What do you mean?” he asks. 

The snake bobs for a moment.” itsss of little matter. Child, do you nessst here?” 

“I do.”  harry replies. 

“ I will let the othersss know.” the snake says, making him even more confused.” go back to fooling around child. No one will dare bother you here.”

He won't know until later that it’s not normal to be able to speak to the snakes that roam the land., he won't know it's a secret language called parseltongue and that he is a parselmouth. He only knows when his brother screams about one of the snakes in the garden when Harry’s eight. 

***

“Go play!” his father said in protest at seeing his oldest son sitting in his favorite chair. “ When I was your age, all I wanted to do was play! I was begging my parents to let me invite someone over every day!” 

“Dad, Charlus plays enough for the both of us.” Harry muttered, turning the page in his book. 

Something was making him extremely tired. Dragging his eyelids down and his throat to close. Words were especially hard when he was tired.  

His father sighs, running a hand down his face as he casts him a disapproving look.” then help your mom with Rosie.” 

Harry withheld his own sigh, feeling the weight of his body as he reached for his bookmark. A metallic purple color, with star’s decorating the back, something he had gotten from his godfather. It slid into place, making it possible to close his book without losing his place. 

His legs almost trembled as he stood, using the chair as a crutch. He sucked in a breath as his head throbbed, but he didnt stumble. He walked away, not looking at his father. Though his father’s eyes dug into his back. He suppressed a griamce as his hip throbbed on his next step. 

He looked up as he entered the dining room, rosemary scribbling away at a paper as his mother read from a book. 

“Harry?” she asks surprised, staring at him. 

“Mom.” he murmurs, moving to sit next to his sister.” What are you working on, Rosie?” 

“Math.” she spits in disgust. 

“And she’s doing really good, too.” his mom add’s. 

“Math is terrible.” Harry agree’s, propping his head on his hand. 

As he say’s that though, someone enter’s from the kitchen. Harry’s not sure if it’s a kitchen elf or a spirit, but he doesnt acknowledge it. If it was a kitchen elf, they could speak to him. If it was one of his spirits, they would probably appear in front of him. 

His head gives a sharp spike of pain that has him lowering his eye-lids, not all the way closed, but close. He swallows, feeling a pang of magic as a warm tea cup appear’s by his side. He mumbles a thanks and reaches for it, almost desperately. 

***

“We’ll go to diagon alley for your school things tomorrow. Is that alright?” his mother tells him. 

“Of course.” he answer’s, his focus mostly on the spider like thing staring up at him from under the coffee table. 

Its eight human eyes blink, all of them falling short behind the first. Its little fanged mouth was set in a grin as it watched him. Its small dog sized body trembled as his mother spoke. 

He pursed his lips against reacting to it, still listening to his mom. 

“We’ll get a bag for you first and your trunk. We can stop by the bookstore last, just before we get your wand.” she rambles. 

“That sounds good.” he responds. 

“Great. Now, do you want to get a pet for school? Your allowed to have one, an owl, a cat, or a toad. Of course, some others bring already bonded familiars to school, like rats or crows.” she says. 

“I'm not sure. Could I decide after looking through the store?” he asks. 

Finding a pet untouched by death that would allow him anywhere near it would be hard to find. Their family owl and their work owls hated him. The spider thing under the table started to make a little creaking sound as it popped its front half into the light. 

Its small legs reached for him. The touch of it was cool and sticky, probably from the hairs on its legs. He ignores it, subtly smoothing his hand down his leg to pat its head. A small rumble sounds from it’s slowly closing mouth. 

“That’d be fine.” she replies, marking something on the paper in front of her. 

He nods and goes back to his book. Only to have to pause again to lift his arms, as the spider creature crawl’s its way into his lap. He sigh’s soundlessly and rest’s his book on its back. With a soft cough, he goes back to reading, warmth spreading through his cold body from where the little creature rests. 

***

Harry knew James loved him as a baby. When he couldn't speak and say things the old man considered weird and odd. When his eyes- though they did trail-never gleamed and glistened. His screams and cries weren't those of tortured victims, but of a hungry baby. His skin was never pale like his mother’s, thanks to his father, but he looked very sickly sometimes. 

His voice never gained a hiss, when he was a baby. He never spoke with the snakes in the garden’s or whispered to the invisible things in the corner of the room. He never stared unnervingly at him or his mother. 

So, when he grew up and developed a voice his father started to drift, taking his mother and brother along with him. They were always very uncomfortable with him. With his odd eyes, icy cold skin, and weird voice. 

Him, the only one of his children to have green eyes-glowing as he stared at the old woman who always smiled so kindly at him. Him, the only one who could hiss and have it come out as a language. Him, the only one with a prophecy about him. Him, the only one with a lighting figure racing across his face in a scar. Harry, the only one who had ever been dead. Harry, the only one who had ever seen death and lived. 

Oh yes, Harry remembers it. He remembers the burning, wailing agony of his soul tearing itself from his body while Voldemort’s did the same. Peter’s body was already a cold, lifeless corpse, cooling on the carpet. His eyes wide open and glassy, staring unseeingly at the open, star spattered sky. 

Harry had to fight then, he had to fight with all of his willpower as voldemort’s soul tried to latch onto his, as they could both tell harry was going back. He had won in the end, after acquiring hand shaped scar’s only visible to those who could see the sharp teeth hidden in his grin. Mostly those of creature heritage and death. 

Still, it doesn't matter. The point was, he was too different for his own father to love him. 

Chapter Text

When Harry's seven, he’s old enough to know things. Like how he’s considered the Saviour of the wixen world for defeating a dark lord. He’s also old enough to know that his parents don't like him. 

They try to hide it. Keeping their questing gazes to the back of his head or only when his eyes are closed. It doesn't stop him from knowing, especially around his siblings. He can see it, when their dad makes time for Charlus and Cater’s to his love for quidditch. 

When their mom always touches him gently and holds him and caresses his hair. He can see it when his dad takes the time to find similar interests with Rosie. He can see it in the way his mom spends what little free time she has with them. 

He’d spent many nights crying over it, ignoring the soft croons that came from the floorboards as he sobbed into his pillow. It was then that he realized that it was his oddness that made them act the way they did. 

His parents were unsettled by his weirdness. The way his eyes gleamed an eerie green and his skin was ice cold. The way he looked at something or spoke softly to it and they couldn't see or hear it. 

Harry had tried to ignore the things before, but it was impossible, and it made something ache inside him. So, he didn't try it again.

***

The day that was chosen for his family to go to the alley was a sunny, cheerful day. Completely at odds with Harry’s drowsiness and general suffering expression. He had been kept up all night with a persistent ache in his back. It wasn't too bad, but it was always there. 

He flipped and flopped, twisted and turned, and it still didn't go away. He asked one of the elves that kept the house clean if they could bring him a heating pad, but that didn't help. He even tried his chair and the floor. The floor being the most comfortable at that moment. 

Not even a pain potion helped, but it did make the small headache he had had that he didn't even notice go away. There was nothing in his bedroom that he could cuddle with. So, he was left to suffer. 

He managed to get a few hours of sleep, the floor doing something to lessen the persistent ache. He blinked blearily as he sat at the dining table. A steaming mug popped into existence with his breakfast. 

A half mumbled, thanks to the kitchen elves and he was cradling the warm mug like it was a drug. The warmth of the tea settled in his body as Rosie and Charlus clambered down the stairs. His father coming to sit with the paper. His mother enters behind his siblings. 

“Oh, Harry. Are you getting sick?” she asks in concern, moving to put her hand on his forehead. 

All she’ll feel is the same icy cold of his skin as usual. He sucks down some more sweet, sweet tea before he answers. 

“Just couldn't fall asleep. Guess I was nervous or excited or something.” he murmurs. 

She frowns at him,” well. Do you still feel up to going to Diagon, sweetie?” 

He nods, knowing that being around all that magic will help his body back to his normal. Will make the aches and pains go away. Maybe even the headache that had made itself known as soon as he had stood up from the floor. 

Everyone sits down to eat, and the subject is dropped as his mother takes him at his word. Really, if he felt like that the whole day, he might just throw a giant, Malfoy sized fit. 

*** 

“ Hello. Who are you?” he asks, his voice a lilting song as he speaks the language of snakes to the woman without a face.

 No skin, only bone. It’s not odd, but her body is that of a human’s, dressed with clothes and skin. 

“ I am me. Who are you?” she speaks back, though her voice is something else. Something that he can't really hear, just feel. A soft caress, a gentle touch. 

“ I live here, so I am the protector.” he responds.

If the woman could grin, she would, but she doesn't have a mouth to smile with. Instead, her hollow eyes seem to gain a small light. Her hands come together with a small, soundless clap and she moves closer. 

“ Tell me protector , who lives in your lands?” she asks. 

He frowns,” it doesn't concern you, faceless me.”  

She moves closer, close enough that harry could see the small light coming off her sun-dried white face. “Protector, you will leave soon. Who will guard your lands then?” 

Her voice deepens, but he doesn't startle. He stopped being afraid of the things he could see when he was four and a giant hulking beast helped him find his mom again after he had lost her in Diagon alley. 

“ My lands are my own, faceless me. I will guard these lands for as long as I wish. They will hold part of my being as every place I visit frequently does. Faceless me, why do you question me?” he explains. 

A soft hand drifts to cup his face.”  I have always known the face I would have. Tell me, protector, would you give up Lily Evans face for me? ” 

He sighs, his speech softening as he goes back to English.” no.” 

She sighs back at him, her hand caressing his cheek. "Spoilsport.” she snips. 

Then she’s gone. A flash of soft, ghostly white light left in her place. He sighs again and turns to go back inside the wards of the potter property. They were too young of wards to slow him from crossing or commanding them to not report to his father about his crossing. 

***

Harry had never like floo travel. The fire too constricting as it squeezed around him and blinded his senses. He wraps his robe around hi tighter and steps inside.  A sinking, sickening pop and he appears in the leaky cauldron. His head gives an aching pulse as he shakes into existence. 

His eyes flash as he tumbles through, landing on the wall in a half upright position. He shakes the ash off as he stands, only for a ghostly face set into a face-splitting wail to appear before him. Up close, it smells like rot and the burning of the floo fire. 

“ Defiler of flame.” it spits, clawed, black burnt hands reaching to harm him. 

Only with a simple look, it stills. Fear tainting the air as the spirit trembles under his gaze. Harry can't look at it for too long, as his family comes through. 

First James, with Charlus grasped in his hands, then lily, with Rosie held on her hip. He gives them a half smile and moves further into the room. 

It doesn't take them long to settle everything. With his mother taking his siblings to sit down for a break, while his father leads him to the brick wall.  His wand tapping out the familiar pattern to get inside. 

As soon as the brick wall opens and reveals the alley, Harry has to try no to slump over. Magic rushing into his body as he sucks it in like a drowning victim does air. 

He trembles something fierce, all the aches and pains he had been having disappearing in a rush as his body is returned to what could be considered his normal state. His hand gripes tight to the wall as he experiences the rush. 

He doesn't get much time to recover, but he was used to such things. 

“We’ll go to Gringotts’s first.” James says half in warning. 

Harry doesn't let a grimace cross his face, aware of the eyes that follow them. “I understand.” he murmurs, just loud enough for James to hear. 

The man nods, then falls silent. He cuts an impeccable figure as he strides through the throng of people. His stride never slowed. Harry could keep up easily enough, almost running after the man. His body didn't hurt, so it was easy to jog after him. 

As they walked, Harry stepped past a dark-skinned boy speaking with a veiled person. He wasn't sure what they were saying, as they were speaking in a language, he didn't know. The thing that drew his notice was the presence that surrounded him. 

He was something other, harry could tell. Not something that had ever been dead, but maybe something that had toyed with the veil. His eyes darted to the boy’s as they passed. Finding startling orangish brown eyes peering at him. 

The boy’s mouth was slightly opened as his gaze darted all over harry and across his shadow. Harry gets a whiff of his scent, strong enough that harry can smell it, something mixed between peppermint and marjoram. 

Harry had to dismiss the interesting boy, as James got farther away. With a flash of green eyes, he turned away. 

The bank building is huge and old. Older than the forbidden knockturn alley that Harry wasn't allowed to even think about. Old enough for ancient beings to reside in its caverns. He swallowed harshly as the thing that guarded the entrance with the guards spoke. 

“ Protecter. Welcome. ” it spoke, its voice deep and rumbly. 

He tipped a nod to the goblins who stared at him. With a whisper, he could speak back. 

“ Gates guardian.” he murmured, hurrying past it. 

It’s large, dragon like wing’s allowed him passage. The goblin’s twitch as he passes by. 

“Hurry up, Harry.” James scolds, standing just inside impatient. 

“Sorry. Their shields are cool.” he says as an excuse.  

The goblin’s shields were cool. With sparking gems and strong metals that glistened in the sunlight. The goblin walking passed barked a laugh, though it could be mistaken as something else. 

Harry knew better than to flash the small being a smile, baring one's teeth when they were what they were, was considered a threat of the highest offense. Instead, he tipped another nod to them as they glanced back.  

Goblins could only get away with “smiling” at wixen, as they didn't seem to have the instincts to consider it offensive.  

James approached the counter, his lordship ring proudly on display. “I have a meeting with the potter account manager, Bloodclaw.” he says. 

The goblin nods, then barks something out in their language.” apprentice Sharptooth will take you and your heir to him.” 

Harry tips them a nod, following behind James as the goblin returns the gesture. Apprentice Sharptooth appears at the door leading them to the account managers. The young goblin leads them to a large bronze door and knocks. 

“Come in!” the manager inside snaps out. 

Apprentice Sharptooth opens the door and allows them entry. 

“Manager bloodclaw, it's good to see you.” James greets. 

Harry remains silent as his father, the lord of their house, and their account manager start speaking. His mind more focused of the soft echoing song he could hear coming from the depths of the bank. Probably where the goblin’s resided. 

“And what do you have to say, heir potter?” bloodclaw asks out of the blue. 

Harry blinks slowly at him,” nothing.” 

James laughs good naturedly, figuring the account manager was simply worried the boy was listening. Which Harry wasn't. It takes a little longer, before they can leave the goblin’s den. Long enough for the song to get stuck in Harry’s head. Long enough for him to hum it softly. 

The goblin only sends him a look, still rifling through papers. Some of them Harry has to sign and others he has to stamp with a thumb print of blood. When it’s all said and done, he’s gifted with the heir potter ring. 

As James goes to leave, bloodclaw speaks up. 

“Heir potter, this letter is for you. As are these papers. Be cautious who you show somethings.” they say. 

“I understand. Its appreciated, account manager bloodclaw.” he murmurs. 

He leaves, tucking the papers inside the hidden pocket on his robe. James stares at him as he leaves. 

“What did he want with you?’” he asks suspiciously. 

“Just what I thought of becoming heir potter officially. I think it was more curiosity than anything.” he replies. 

James nods, but sends him a long, searching stare. He does drop it though, so they could continue on into Diagon. 

“Lily and the other’s will probably be at the ice cream parlor, or quality quidditch.” James says. 

***

There was a small creek behind their house. The wards stretched across it. But those wards only protected against what's considered dark magic and those with the dark mark. They did nothing to protect harry from the things that he could see. 

Though, most weren't dangerous to him anymore. The thing hiding in the creek was. Its body was small and covered in a black moss. The size of a large koi fish. It had two eyes, gleaming silver gems that tempted little ones into its waters to drown them. 

It had two legs, squatted so it could sit on the bank. It had no arms, though it could touch him. It likes shiny things, like the crow’s that he feeds in the garden. It can be bought to allow safe passage, but only sometimes. 

Harry doesn't like looking at it, because sometimes he’ll hear a voice that sounds too much like his little sister’s. Begging him for help, begging to be saved.  

No matter if he liked the little bastard or not, he was stuck with knowing it. He was just lucky it couldn't come up the drains in his house. It was stuck residing in natural water’s that were small enough for it to have domain over. 

Harry couldn't command it until he was eight years old and Charlus had wandered down to the water. Harry was lucky to have a silver screw in his pocket, but Charlus didn't have anything.  He stumbled upon his brother running his hands through the water.

The fish like creature was grinning madly at him. Harry had snarled, his voice gaining an edge it had never had before. Charlus was his . This creature was not allowed to take him. Harry had reached in at that moment, his hands wrapping around the things body and squeezing. 

It had given a pathetic cry, but it had released Charlus from its thrall. His younger brother fainted on the spot, thankfully harry had caught him. That had been the end of that. His brother didn't remember anything, and the fish creature knew better than to mess with them. 

***

They meet up with the rest of the family at quality quidditch. Charlus is talking with the youngest Weasley boy, whom he’s friends with. Harry ignores them and stands beside Rosie, who’s ignoring everyone but the twins. 

Lily speaks off to the side with James, sending him what were supposed to be discreet glances, but he could still feel. A small hand slipped into his, warm enough to be that of a human’s. He sends a glance to his sister, but she’s still focused on the twins. 

He huffs as his mother comes over again. 

“Come on you two. We’ll go get your things, while Charlus and dad stay here.” she says. 

“Alright.” he agrees. Rosie also agrees, waving goodbye to the two grinning red heads. 

They stop at a trunk and bag store. Bag’s bunny, the sign proclaimed. A cute little white bunny with a backpack slung over its back hops around the words. 

“Pick out a bag first, something that’ll let you carry all your books and things.” his mom says. 

He wanders off, while lily takes Rosie to look at the trunks. He passes by a man with dark, black hair and white pale skin. His eyes are fathomless, and his teeth were sharp. He ignores the man and turns into the isle for bags. 

He doesn't want a backpack. He doesn't want something small, and he refuses to get anything in red or yellow.  

The bag he ends up choosing is a light grey leather. It has the ability to add charms to it, but it comes with a feather-light charm and an endless extension one. Perfect for books and school things. 

He finds his mother and sister looking at a dark wooden trunk. Rosie has her hands on it as lily stares at the price. She hears him approaching, mostly thanks to his own allowance.

 His mother turns with a smile, “did you find a bag you like?” she asks. 

He holds up the light grey bag he had picked out. She grabs it, motioning for him to pick out a trunk as she looks over it. It's an across the body bag, meant to rest on the opposite shoulder the bag part rests on. 

“It's perfect.” she comments,” though I didn't think you’d like grey.” 

He shrugs,” I don't know which house I’ll be sorted into. It's better to have neutral colors instead of gold and red or yellow and brown.” 

She nods, happy with his thoughtfulness. He goes back to looking at the trunks. 

“You should get this one.” Rosie says after a long silence. 

He looks over at a dark brown trunk. “I should?” 

“Yes!” she chirps,” you can set a password and stuff.”  

He swallows and lets a smile cross his face.” that is handy” he replies, walking over to look at it. 

It's the perfect trunk. With the mentioned password, some other handy charms, and the ability to add your own spells. Plus it has up to four compartments, with a secret one. 

“I like it.” he says to his mother. 

She smiles and goes to tell the clerk. He set’s a mundane password while he’s there, knowing he could change it later. 

They leave after that, heading to the store right next to it. Madam Godon’s potion emporium. A potion’s equipment shop. The better place to buy first year potions equipment. It didn't have the first-year kit, that was at slug and jiggers. 

The store was bright and cheerful. Smelling strongly of herbs and brewing potions. Lily holds Rosie’s hand as they enter, knowing the girl would wander off if she didn't. 

The first thing he needed was a mortar and pestle. He found a pretty white crystal set, perfect. That went into the basket his mother had grabbed. Next, he grabbed a set of beakers. Then some glass vials. 

He grabbed a clean brass scale and a set of steel stirring rods. Rolling that he got a set of potion skives. Black handles and polished metal. He got a carrier for all of it, plus a stand for the glass jars.  

He was finished. His mother paid for everything; plus, some extra things she had gotten. He tucked everything into his new bag, where he kept his shrunken trunk. 

The third store they visited was Madam Maulkins robes for all occasions. Thankfully he just needed to be outfitted for his school robes. They would be sent to the house, so once he was finished with the fitting they could leave. 

Next, they went to potage’s cauldron store to buy his cauldron. It was in and out. Rosie had started complaining by the time they had left Madam Maulkin’s store, so lily was carrying her. Harry was full of energy, so he was more tolerant of her whining than he usually was. 

There was just something about his little sister’s whining that grated at his nerves when he was low on energy. He was short with her when that happened, though he distanced himself mostly. He got a steel one, a quartz one, and a silver one.  

To the next store they went. Slug and jigger’s store was next. The first year’s potion kits with the potion book he was required to have been bought. He had to go into the store by himself, as Charlus and James had come up to them. 

Harry was quick in buying it, hoping to get out of the crowded store and to a more sedate place. Charlus was gone when he came out, but his father was there. James smiled at him when he seen him. 

“Found everything okay?” he asks. 

“Yes.” Harry responds. 

The three trails after him as he goes to the next store. Scribbulus writing instruments, where he gets his quill’s, quill maintenance set, parchment, and ink. Plus, an ink well. In total they spend twenty minutes in the store. 

James has Rosie on his hip as Lily pays for everything. Once his supplies are paid for, he tucks them into his bag. 

“Can we get sweets?” Rosie asks sleepily. 

It was around her naptime, so he wasn't surprised. The seven-year-old took a nap after lunch most days. 

“We can.” James agrees, leading them to sugarplums. 

Harry decides to get some sugar quill’s, a bag of sour apple bites, a bag of acid pops, and a box of black pepper imps. Rosie gets some chocolate frogs and cherry riots. Lily gets Charlus some berry bott’s beans and some fantie humhums.  

Finally, they make their way to flourish and Blott’s, a bookstore. Harry refrains from bouncing in place as they enter the half empty store. His parents and Rosie stay near the front of the store as harry makes his way to the display for schoolbooks. 

His father was allowing him to get three non-school books and he couldn't wait to look for them.  The schoolbooks all came in a bundle for first and second years. Prepackaged for less mayhem. 

Harry stored them in one of the little basket’s that he had gotten from the front of the store and went to find the fantasy section. He had never been to flourish and Blott’s before, only the secondhand bookstore. 

He had to be careful about which book’s he picked out. As there were some his parents disapproved of. Harry found one of his favorite author’s first, Elias prince. The man had written over thirteen books by the time he was killed. Next, he got a book by Samantha Avery. 

The last book he chose was by maven briar. Harry had deliberated for a moment, as James disliked the last name greatly, but he decided it’d be fine. He swallowed and made his way to the front. Lily looked up as he approached, a smile adorning her face. 

He half wondered if it was fake, but he didn't put too much thought into it. James was still holding Rosie, her face tucked into his shoulder. 

“Did you find everything?” his mother asked. 

“Yes.” he replies, moving to set his basket on the counter so they could buy them. 

Lily moves to pay, leaving harry standing silently beside his father and his sister. 

“We have two stops left.” James starts,” do you want to check out the animal’s or get a wand first?” 

“The animals,” he says. He wanted to try to find a companion. 

James nods. Lily comes back and hands him his books to put into his bag. 

“To the magical menagerie, then?” she asks. 

They nod and follow her out. The walk is short, as the store was right across the way. Harry carefully ignored the hands that tugged on the hem of his robes as he left the bookstore. Instead, he focused on the menagerie. 

It was loud, when the door opened. Not just from the yowling animals. Something was screaming so loudly it felt like his ear drums were going to burst. He bit his tongue sharply and did his best to ignore it. 

Whatever was screaming sounded like it was being actively tortured. The wail hitched in its pattern, stuttering for a breath, before coming back with a shriller tone. A bin of cat’s had already hissed at him as he walked in the door.

As he walked, the spider’s scuttled away.  He squinted his eyes and walked past the spider’s. He kept walking, waiting for the animal to choose him. He stumbled upon the birds, with most screeching and darting away. Only two watched him. 

One was a blue-eyed eagle owl and the other a white snowy owl. Harry calmly approached and let his eye’s glow green. The eagle owl turned away, uninterested in forming a bond with him. The snowy owl though, it hooted softly at him. 

Feeling impulsive, he held his arm out. Only covered by a thin layer of fabric. If the owl wanted, it could shred his arm. Instead, the white owl flew from its perch and landed gently on his arm. He slowly lowered it, so they were eye level. 

“Hello.” he whispered.” I'm harry potter.” 

It hooted softly again, reaching forward to tug at a strand of hair that fell over his eyes. A rush of sharp magic fell between them. Marking her as his familiar. 

“Harry?” his mom asks hesitantly. Probably put off by the way he was bonding with his owl. 

He didn't care. He had found a familiar, a companion. He had found someone who liked him. Who didn't care that his eyes glowed and he smelled weird. Even if she was just an owl. He’d find a name for her later. 

“She’s the one for me.” he answer’s his mother. Turning with her on his arm. 

His mother smiles shakily at him, probably because his eyes were still glowing softly. 

“Thats brilliant Harry.” she said.” why don't you take her to the owl section and pick out some things for her? Like treats and a carrying cage?” 

He nods and leaves. His owl scuttling along his arm to settle on his shoulder. The screaming had died down as soon as he had started the bond. He was thankful that it was still quiet. 

Harry picked out a steel cage, some treats, a watering bowl, and a perch. Then he was walking to the counter. Rosie was awake and playing with the kittens by the front of the store. James and lily were whispering furiously to each other. Though they stopped when he came upon them. 

Lily’s smile, this time, is definitely forced. It's more a grimace than anything. He swallows, feeling his owl nip at his hair in an attempt to comfort him. It makes the sick feeling leave his stomach enough that he can raise a hand to pet her head. 

They buy his things and shrink them for him so he can stuff them in his bag. His owl stays on his shoulder as they leave the store, the shrieking starting back up. The group of four make their way to their final stop. 

Ollivander’s is an intimidating shop for one like harry. A wandmaker can see a lot of things. Thing’s that could put Harry or other’s similar to him in danger. Usually though, wandmaker’s have a sense about what they can and can't share. 

He can feel the man’s presence outside. His wards parting like a curtain to allow them entry.  He swallows and enters further into the darkly lit room. The walls were swarming with the special magic of unclaimed wands. He could almost taste all the different woods and core’s that made them up.

“Harry potter.” a voice murmurs. 

He doesn't jump, but he can feel his mother do so.  He looks over, meeting the eyes of the wandmaker. 

“Sir Ollivander.” he says back, his voice soft and respectful. 

The wandmaker comes into view, stepping out of the shadows like a wraith. There's a small grin on his face as he survey’s the air around them. 

“a newly bonded familiar. Perfect.” he mutters to himself, before looking towards his parents. ” Lord potter, lady potter.”  

“Mister Ollivander.” lily answer’s, stepping up to rest her hand on Harry’s unoccupied shoulder. 

Her touch is odd. It makes his skin tingle and his mouth dry. He shrugs off the strangeness and focuses on the wandmaker in front of him. 

“Eleven inches, mahogany with a very temperamental dragon’s heartstring.” Ollivander says, his eyes peering into James’s. “How is it serving you?”

James nods,”very well.” 

“Good, good.” he responds, turning to lily. "Ten inches, wild willow wood with a unicorn tail hair. Is it how you dreamed?” 

She smiles, though it's obvious she’s still unsettled.” it is.” 

Ollivander nods and turns to him.” which is your dominant hand?”

He pauses,” my right.” 

His response seems to surprise the man, but then he nods. Probably listening to the magic as it explains away Harry’s lies. The truth was that he used both hands most often. The man’s tape measure floated out of his pocket in a show of wandless, wordless magic. 

His owl was coaxed off of his shoulder so he could be measured. He stepped forward into its coaxing, allowing it to measure him. It wrapped around him and twisted, measuring both of his arms and both of his legs. It was an odd little thing, but it wasn't harmful. 

When it was down, Ollivander had wandered off. The old man came back not a second later with his arms full of boxes. He set them on his counter and handed harry the first wand. 

“Ten inches, willow wood, with a dragon’s heartstring. Give it a flick.” he says. 

Harry does, feeling his magic protest at being forced through such an ill fitted wand. Ollivander snatches it away and shoves it back into its box. Three boxes, plus the one he had tried leave the pile. 

“Thirteen inches, mahogany, with a unicorn’s tail hair.” he explains. 

Harry swirls it through the air, but nothing happens. Ollivander snatches it away and hands him another. 

“Cherry wood, twelve inches, with a phoenix tail feather.” he described. 

Harry barely picked it up before it was out of his hand. More boxes leave the pile, but some come flying to join it.

“Twelve inches, vine wood, with a peculiar horned serpent core.” he recounted. 

It was not the one. This went on for about thirty minutes, before Ollivander was out of boxes. The man didn't seem bothered, unlike his parents who had sat down in the corner. 

Ollivander had a little grin on his face as he turned towards them.” I will be taking him back to the workshop to seem if his wand just hasn't been made yet. We won't be long.” 

Harry almost laughed at their incredulous expressions, but his arm was being tugged. He followed diligently behind, only to be stopped before they entered the room ahead. 

“Try this wand.” he commands. 

Harry does, feeling the wand warm in his hand, but it still wasn't fully right. Ollivander nods when he relays this, like he knew. He probably did. The man takes the wand and leads him to a table. Harry is awarded the greatest privilege of getting to watch Ollivander’s magic work. 

The wood of the wand splits down the middle, revealing its core. The core dismisses itself and the wood is made pliant. A block of pale colored wood floats through the air. With a complicated twist it shapes itself into that of an incredibly incomplete wand. 

Ollivander mutter’s what must be some kind of spell under his breath that has the two wood pieces joining together. Harry stares entranced, his blood sings as Ollivander offer’s him the incomplete wand. 

“Now, we must find you a core.” the man says, standing up straight. "I do believe I have the perfect one.” 

Harry follows after him again, his hand clenched tight around the wood. It's not like Ollivander will take it away from him. 

“Run your hand over these.” he murmurs, gesturing to a table of sort’s. With glass cases holding the core’s used for wands. 

He doesn't have to, as soon as his hand comes close to the table something is hovering into his palm. Ollivander lets out a satisfied noise and holds his hand up. Harry releases his unfinished wand and the tail hair into his hold. 

Watching the man coo over the wood so it accepts the core is a new experience, one he’s not likely to forget. Once his wand is fully finished, he grabs it fully for the first time. It's warm, warmer than anything he had experienced before. Sending sparks up his arm and to his heart. His eyes glow as soft green as the bond forms and settles in place. A fast process. 

The warmth of it lights his blood on fire and makes him want to cry. Ollivander pats him consoling on the back as his eyes sting. 

“It's alright lad.” he assures. 

After a moment of silence, harry manages to gather himself again.” what’s it made of?” he asks. 

Ollivander shoot’s him a grin,” pine and fir wood, with a core of threstal tail hairs. Twelve inches and rigid. A wand perfectly suited to one such as yourself.” 

Harry can't help the grin that overtakes his face, his lips peeling back to expose a set of sharp canines. Ollivander matches his grin, his own teeth on display. A sudden, sobering thought occurs to him. 

“I can't tell them what it is.” he says sadly, feeling an answering pang from his wand. 

“I was afraid so, lad. So, I have a cover story for you. We will tell them it’s a fir wand with a unicorn tail hair. It is the safest option.” Ollivander says back. 

Harry nods.” that's perfect. Thank you, Sir Ollivander.” 

“And thank you, heir potter.” 

The walk back is quiet. Harry relishes in his new bond. As soon as they get into sight, his owl joins them. Making it perfect. He smiles as he approaches his parents. 

“Well?” his father asks. 

“A fir wand, lord potter. With the hair of an even tempered unicorn as its core.” Ollivander says brightly. 

“Oh.” lily says,” that's brilliant harry. But why did it take so long?” 

Ollivander grins,” fir is an exceptionally challenging wood.” 

Harry has to swallow his laughter at seeing the wandmaker lie. His parent's expressions even’s out, with them accepting the old man’s words. They pay quickly and go to leave. An exchange of smirks passes without them knowing. 

“We need to hurry. Moony and padfoot are coming over for dinner. Plus, Charlie will be home from the Weasley’s house soon.” James says, leading them into the leaky cauldron. 

With the command for his owl to find him at his home, he can safely travel through the floo. As he stumbles out, the burnt creature hisses threateningly at him, shoving him harshly and managing him to trip him into someone. 

Familiar hands catch him under the armpits. 

A soft laugh echoes through the room, "you really do need to work on your floo travel, cub.” 

Harry relaxes into the familiar warmth of his hands.  

Chapter Text

Harry had become good at lying early in his life. He lied to his parents and godfather. He lied to his brother and sister. He lied to the things that whispered words in his ear as he tried to fall asleep.  It was so easy to lie. So easy to change the meaning of his words. 

Despite knowing how bad it was to lie, he never felt guilty for it. Knowing it was one of the ways he kept himself safe. Just like how Sir Ollivander lied about his wand, harry lied about almost everything. 

It was a bit harder to lie to Remus, as he was a werewolf. He could smell the deception a mile away and usually caught him in his small white lies, but that was why he was saying them. Practice made perfect after all. 

***

“Uncle Padfoot, uncle Moony.” he greeted, straightening up from the scarred man’s hold. 

Sirius grinned brightly at him,” hello pup! Are the other’s coming through?” 

“Yes.” he answer’s, the three of them moving out of the way. "Though Charlie is at the Weasleys.” 

They nod and wait for the others. Lily comes through first, followed by James and Rosie. They all quickly greet each other, Rosie settling in Sirius's lap. The dark-haired man had always been her favorite. 

Harry gets some time to take his new things into his bedroom. He doesn't try to unpack anything, knowing he’d want to do it with the privacy of night. As he’s coming down the stairs a sudden, cold fury fill’s his body. 

He pauses in his descent, looking behind him and coming face to face with a humanoid figure that had no real body. The edges of it blurred and he couldn't see anything truly except for its glowing white eye. A blurry black arm extended to rest on his shoulder.

Its eyes gleam in the dark as the feeling of fear washes over him. With Remus at the house, he can't flash his eyes at the creature. He had limited options, but what he did have allowed him to grip its arm and growl out a command. 

“ Release me!” he orders. 

It shiver’s but doesn't. Harry enforces a bit of his will behind his words,” release me.”  

It finally does. He glares at it until the remaining foreign feelings leave him and it disappears. He finishes walking down the stairs and enters the sitting room.  His mother was missing, but the rest were there, even Charlus. 

Remus smiles at him and pats the cushion next to him for him to sit down. Harry does, though he consciously doesn’t touch the man. They were always uncomfortable when they felt his cold skin against their own. 

“Are you excited pup?” Sirius asks. 

“I am.” Harry lies. He wasn’t. He knew how likely it was that him going to Hogwarts and getting sorted would ruin what little love his family held for him. 

Sirius grins,” what are you most excited for?” 

Harry blinks and has to think about it,” being able to use magic. Or the classes.” 

Remus asks,” which class?” 

“Potions. Or charms.” he replies, his hand finding the worn fabric of the couch to rub at as he answer’s. 

Sirius grimaces along with James at his answer, but it’s his mother who tells him.” you'll have to be careful of your potions class. I'm afraid the professor has a bit of a grudge against your father.” 

He nods, "I know.” 

And he does know. He had heard the stories. The rivalry between his father and his friends and Snape and his friends was a favorite story that James and Sirius told. Harry had mixed feelings about it. 

On one hand, it seemed to be a mutual hatred that stemmed from nothing. On the other, there were many cruel things both sides had done. The marauder’s pulled some morally ambiguous pranks on them, but the group of Slytherins did the same. 

It would be best if Harry just avoided the man as best as he could. He wasn't sure if the man would carry his grudge for James over onto him, as he had no part in his father’s mess. It was unlikely, as it had been years since it had happened, but he couldn't be certain about it. 

Sirius laughed,”  Snivellus will have to suck it up! He’s got three junior marauders’ coming his way!” 

Harry smiled along with everyone else but felt a stirring in his stomach. He felt sick if he thought about it too long. His stomach in knots as he worried. His hands would shake, and his throat would close. Sometimes his heart felt like it would escape his chest. Sometimes his lungs would stop working. 

He tuned back in when Remus set a hand on his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt covered his skin. He looked over and saw a concerned look on the man’s face. He forced his smile to return and tuned back just in time to hear Sirius's other question. 

“What house do you think you’ll be in?” he asked eagerly. 

Harry wanted the earth to swallow him whole. “I don’t know. Maybe Ravenclaw?” he tries to answer only for James to speak over him. 

James scoff’s,” obviously Padfoot, he’ll be in Gryffindor!” 

That was the least likely house he’d be sorted into. He wasn't brave, courageous, or honest. He wasn't adventurous or righteous. Hufflepuff was out of the question as well. He wasn't patient, fair, or kind. He couldn't be considered loyal by most. 

He could hope with all of his heart for Ravenclaw, but he knew it was least likely. 

“James.” Lily scolds, "Harry can sort into any house.” 

His father pouts at her,” I just want them to get to experience Hogwarts’s like I did. Is it so wrong to hope for their safety?” 

She softens,” it's not, but don't go pushing your ideals onto him.”

Harry swallows harshly and grabs for the teacup that had appeared on the coffee table. 

***

Dinner that night was cheerful, if you ignored the way harry was clenching one hand in his lap so hard his nail’s dug into his palm. He was close to breaking skin, or maybe he already had. His uncle’s and parents were regaling them all with their tales from their time at Hogwarts’s. 

His hand didn't shake as he stabbed at the seared vegetables on his plate through sheer force of will. His stomach felt like razor’s had been poured inside. Even with all the magic he had consumed in Diagon, he couldn't stop whatever was happening to him. 

“And Padfoot had decided we needed to turn everyone’s robes pink! Everyone's! Even the professors! Oh, Minnie almost killed us then." James regaled them. 

Charlus laughed,” really?” 

If there was one person who would follow their parents into Gryffindor, it was his brother. He was very similar to James. With his havoc causing personality. Rose was like their mother, calm and studious. He was the odd one out. It was saddening. 

“Yes! The pink really brought out the murder in her eyes. Oh, that was a detention to remember." Sirius chimed in. 

Remus shook his head,” only you two got detention. For a full week. I, on the other hand, was never caught.” 

“Sneaky Moony, always the golden boy. Never in trouble with the Professors." Sirius said. 

“Like Lily. She was never involved with your nonsense. Though if you pranked her, she always got you back.”  James chimes in. 

Harry smiled a bit at that, their stories weren't half bad. It was only when they brought up their pranks against the Slytherin’s was it bad. 

“Oh, do you remember that time where one of the Prewett twins-Fabian, I think- tried to hit on Marlene?” Lily suddenly said, her eyes wide. 

“And she cursed his balls to fall off.” Remus finishes with a slight grin,” yes, I do remember. Mostly because I had to take him to Madam Pomfrey as the prefect.” 

Sirius grimaces,” can’t believe Mckinnon did that. He wasn’t even being his usual self.” 

Lily raises an eyebrow,” he was being crude.” 

Sirius shrugs,” he could have said something way worse.” 

“Wait, what did he say?” Charlus asks eagerly.

Harry stifles a laugh into his hand, only getting raised eyebrows in his direction. 

“Ah, you're too young to be hearing this story. Why don’t you three go get ready for bed. Dear Rosie is about falling asleep at the table.” 

“Aw, mom.” he whines. 

Harry stands, ever obedient when he can be. When it doesn't put him in danger. Rosie and Charlus give their uncles a hug and head towards the stairs. He reaches for Rosie's hand and tugs her along. It doesn't take long to brush their teeth and change into pajama’s. 

When Lily and James come up to tuck his siblings in, he conveniently cracks his door. 

***

Harry doesn't go to bed immediately. Instead, he sneaks his way back down. The stairs and his footsteps silenced by the night. He didn't exit the hallway and just sat outside the door. If someone crossed the doorway, they wouldn't be able to see him. 

The shadows stretched far across him and hid him from view. He sat silently and listened to them reminisce. It didn't take long for him to come up in conversation, sending his stomach tumbling over itself. 

“I’m worried for him.” Sirius comments,” he’s not- he doesn’t act like a normal kid.” 

“I know Padfoot, I'm worried too. But you know what Albus said. He said it’s normal after what happened that night. And with him going to Hogwarts’s it’ll be better.'' James replied. 

“Still.” Sirius whined,” he doesn't even act like he’s excited to go or to see us when we come over. He doesn't act right, there's something wrong with him.” 

“Sirius.'' Remus scolds,” there’s nothing wrong with him. Just because he doesn't act the same as his brother and sister doesn't mean somethings wrong with him.” 

“Exactly, Remus is right. He’s just a little odd and it's not his fault. I would still love him if he acted like the Malfoy boy, cause he’s my son." Lily retorted. 

The defense warmed him slightly, his stomach calming down from the loops it was making. His hands still trembled from where they were clenched in front of his shins. 

“Of course.” James says, something odd to his voice.” he’s just- it’s difficult to be around him, Lily. And don't lie. He just has this…. air, about him, that makes him seem different. ” 

“Like me?” comes Remus's soft voice. When he says that, he sounds dangerous.” supposedly werewolves have an air about them, that makes them different. ”  

“What? Of course not, Moony. It's different. I'm surprised you can’t feel it." Sirius says back. 

A sigh sounds,” I can't. I don't understand what your three are referring too. He smells like he always has since he turned five. He’s a little cold, but that's it.” 

Harry shakes himself out of the stupor he had fallen into at their conversation. He needed to stop listening. It didn't matter what they thought or said. So long as they didn't think he was dangerous to them. 

He stands and walks back to his bedroom. He needs to pack his trunk. When he enters his room, the floor gives a content hum. He ignores it and moves to his bag. Harry starts taking everything out. 

His wand is the first thing he grabs, then his books. He lays them all on his bed. Then he takes his writing utensil’s out, along with his potion's things. The rest of his things are laid out with them. 

He grabs his bag last, with his shrunken trunk safely tucked away inside. He pulls the small rectangle out and sits it on the bed. He drops the bag and reaches for his wand. Warmth fills him as he taps the small rune etched on the lid of his trunk to resize it. 

It doesn’t resize on his toes, so he counts it as a success. 

“Wraith wrath.” he murmurs the password to open it. 

The lid clicks open with ease, the smell of a new trunk filling the air in front of him. Harry opens the first compartment and starts putting his books in. His schoolbooks go on the highest shelf, followed by his three new books. 

He add’s some other books he had lying around in his room. Mostly one’s he had borrowed from the library they had in Potter manor. Though they rarely visited the place. It was empty save for a few elves to keep it up and running. 

Once that’s finished, he shoves his cauldrons onto the bottom shelf. Along with a pair of dragonhide boot’s he had gotten for his birthday that he had never worn. He opens the second compartment to stuff his potion equipment into. Along with his telescope and quill’s. 

With that done he starts packing his clothes. He packs in his new school robes, the required hat, gloves, and cloak. Then he packs a few undershirts, some slacks, and some socks solely to wear during the day. Then he packs some lounge clothes. 

T-shirts, sweatpants, a hoodie, some jeans, and his pajama’s. He packs underwear and extra socks. He also packs some winter wear, a scarf, some mittens, and a long-sleeved shirt. 

Once he finishes that, he closes his trunk. With his wand he set’s it on the rune that’ll let him change his password. When he had set it, the cashier had put his blood on the rune so only he could change it. 

He swallows and grabs the picture book he prepared for it, seeing snakes made it easier to speak their language. He didn't change it much. 

“ Wrathful wraithss.” he hisses. 

The trunk glows, which means the password was accepted. He didn't really need to say the password every time, he could just press his blood to the rune, but it made it more secure. 

With that all done, he tucked himself in bed and fell asleep. 

***

Harry was in the middle of his charm’s book when his father knocked on the door. He slid his bookmark into place and stood up. 

“Dad, did you need something?” he asked obviously. 

James nods and enters his room. Something in his hands. The thing in the floorboards hisses at the intrusion but settles down when Harry doesn't make a move to stop him. 

“Come sit with me while we talk.” James said. 

Harry leaves his door cracked as he goes. The thing that lives in his floorboards gives a discontent rumble but doesn't shut his door for him. He sits beside his father and waits for him to talk. Harry watches him curiously. Usually, his father wouldn't enter his room, as it held Harry's presence more than any other room in the house. 

“When I turned eleven and had gotten my Hogwarts letter my dad took me to Gringotts and made me his heir. As the heir, I was let into the Potter family secrets. Like the family grimoire and this." James says, pulling something out of his pocket. 

Harry stares and has to swallow. As soon as he see’s the thing he knows what it is. It’s his. Harry’s. It's obviously an invisible cloak, but it's different. It has a familiar presence lingering on it, but the presence is faint. 

James hands it over and Harry almost faints. 

“ Heir preverall.” it intones, almost purring the words. It seems to arch into his hold. Shuddering as he grabs it. 

He blinks but doesn’t react.” an invisible cloak?” he asks to James. 

The man nods, showing no signs of having heard it.” yes. It's been in the family for generations. It's for you to take to Hogwarts. You're the heir to the house. Now, when you turn thirteen, you’ll get the ring and get to read the grimoire.” 

Harry nods along with him, "I see. What about Charlie and Rosie?” he asks. 

“What do you mean?” James questions.

“Do they get to see the grimoire?” 

James shakes his head,” not unless you or I allow it. I’ll probably let them see it and read it if they want. They’ll be under your protections as the heir to the house. Especially when they get to Hogwarts.”

“I know. I’ll keep them safe.” he says. 

“I know you will. I also know how likely it is that Charlie will resent your involvement in his business.” James replies.

“I don't mind. If he’s upset, I mean. I'm the heir, like you said, it's my duty to protect them.” Harry says back. 

James nods,” good. That means protecting them from the Malfoy heir or any other heirs. Even if you befriend them.” James stands up.” Now, I'm going to finish my paperwork, if your mother asks where I am. Make sure you keep track of the cloak.” 

Harry nods and carefully doesn’t say,  I don’t think I could lose it if I tried.

He’s just about to open his trunk to stash the cloak inside when his door creaks back open. He turns, the cloak rumbling disapprovingly along with the floorboards. He ignores them both and stares imploringly at his little brother. 

When he doesn't say anything for a moment and just continues staring at Harry, he speaks. "Did you need something Charlie?” 

Charlus finally answers,” why do you get the cloak?” his voice is petulant as he stares, almost glares at said cloak. 

“You were eavesdropping.” Harry states, a flat look coming over his face.” you heard what dad said. It's because I am the heir.” 

“That doesn't explain why. It's not fair.” he whines, an annoyed look crossing his face.” you're always being treated like you're special.” 

Harry sighs, setting the cloak down, much to its displeasure.” Charlie. I'm not being treated specially, it's just that I'm the heir. Being the heir means something very different than what you're probably thinking. You should ask dad about it; he can explain it better as lord potter.” 

Charlie sneers at him and storms out of his room. Harry sighs again, more heavily and shuts his door. He locks it and the thing that sleeps in his floorboards creeps up his door so it stays shut, even if someone tries to blast it open, it wouldn't budge.

“ You speak.” he says blankly, looking at the cloak.

“ Heir preverall.” it rumbles back, tangling in his hands. 

He was much too tired to even deal with the cloak naming him as an heir to an extinct old line. He’d deal with it later. Later when he was expected to actually start being an heir. Thirteen seemed like a good number, as it was far away. 

Harry knows that he can't hide the cloak away in his trunk or release it. It likes his touch, the weirdo, and is very reluctant to part with him. Harry sighs once more and tucks it into his pocket. The cloak obligingly shrinks and fits itself inside. 

***

“What about Lavender?” Rosie suggests, glancing over at him.

Harry shakes his head, making a face at the name.” No. can't be anyway, the house of brown has a child in our generation named Lavender.” he flips the page in his book, petting his owl with his free hand.

“Oh, right. With her older brother, Richard as heir, right?” she asks, throwing a handful of seeds to the ground. 

“Yes. he’s currently in Hufflepuff as a third-year student.” Harry replies. 

She hums,” then, what about marigold?” 

He shakes his head again,” she’s white, not golden.” 

Rosie throws another handful of seed to the ground,” what about crow?” 

He sends her a look, to which she giggles at. The crows peck at the seeds on the ground, soft chirps escaping their beaks. 

“Umm, Pansy?” she suggests.

“Can’t. The heiress Parkinson’s name is Pansy.” he replies. 

“Oh.” she says, then falls silent. It's a contemplative silence, so he waits. 

“Harry?” she starts.

He looks over,” yes?” 

She inhales shakily,” you're going to go into Slytherin, yeah?” 

It's his turn to inhale,” most likely.” 

“You won't have any friends there.” she says, her voice choked. 

He shut’s his book and stands, making his way over to his teary-eyed little sister.” Rosie. I'm going to be just fine. I’ll make friends and be okay. You don't need to worry.” 

“But all the people who’ll sort into your year with you are mean.” she sobs. 

He softens further, resting his hand on her shirt covered shoulder.” they might be. They might not be. I can make friends outside of my house or with older years. I’ll be fine, Rose.” 

“Promise?” she asks, stepping closer.

“I promise.” he swears. Then she wraps her little arms around him and hugs him. 

He melts, wrapping her in a tight hug. Harry couldn't remember the last time someone had hugged him. It made his skin buzz. He waits for her to pull away. 

She wipes at her eyes and beams up at him.” good. Now we need to name your owl.” 

He smiles, "I believe I found the perfect one in my book.” 

Rosie frowns,” which book?” 

“My history of magic book.” he responds.

“Well, what is it?” she asks back, moving to sit beside him. 

“Hedwig.” 

***

Despite the amount of magic, he had consumed while at Diagon three weeks ago, plus what he had taken from his uncle’s, parents, and siblings, it wasn’t enough. He went to bed last night and woke up some time around three in the morning with a pounding headache and an ache in his left hip. 

He groaned loudly, knowing no one would hear him. Harry was in for a long night of tossing and turning and pain. The pain was one of the reason’s he was looking forward to Hogwarts. He could absorb all of the magic he wanted, and no one was in danger of being harmed. 

By the time the sun rose, he was annoyed. He was agitated and tired. Sleep had escaped him no matter how many hours he kept his eyes shut or counted sheep. It was like a never-ending torture. 

He finally had enough and climbed out of bed. Harry hoped food or tea would help relieve something, despite knowing it wouldn't. The visit to Diagon had made him forget, which was a very bad idea. 

It meant his holiday’s away from the castle would be the worst. He could get away with spending most of the holidays at the castle, but summer would be horrid. Three months of only his parents and siblings and maybe his uncles. 

Just imagining it was terrible and made his head throb. He huffed and clambered down the stairs. Sitting in the dining room where his parents. They looked up when he entered, both wearing severe frowns. 

He frowned back, but in confusion." Is something wrong?” he asked. 

Lily sat back, her lips pursed. James sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. 

“Harry, sit down. We need to talk.” James says. 

He does, quietly thanking the kitchen elves when they pop him some tea and some breakfast. “What's wrong?” 

“We need you to be honest, here with us. Okay, Harry?” lily starts. Her voice was worried and stern. 

He nods,” okay. Mom, is someone hurt?” 

“No one is physically hurt, but-” 

“Did you tell your brother that he couldn’t be the heir because he was useless?” James interrupts. And Harry can already tell James was mad, his eyes were narrowed, and his hands were clenched. His body was closed off as he stared at him. 

Harry frowns,” no. Why would I do that?” 

“Charlie came to us in tear’s last night. He told us you said he couldn't be the heir because he was useless. He also said that you said that we didn't even want him, which is very much not true.'' Lily explains, her frown severe. 

“Mom. I didn't say anything like that. Charlus can't be the heir because he’s my younger brother and I haven't done something for the magic’s to disapprove of. Why would I tell him he wasn’t wanted? If anything, I was the unwanted one. Seeing as I was the surprise.” Harry responded, keeping his voice level, even when his eyes started to hurt. 

“Don’t lie.” James said,'' where would charlus even get these ideas, if you hadn't told him that?” 

Harry manages not to sigh, but only barely. "I don't know. I'm not lying.” 

“Harry-” Lily tries but is only interrupted. Notice how neither denied he was unwanted?  

James slams his hands on the table, everything in the house stills. “Don’t you lie to me, Harry James Potter!” he shouts,” now tell me the truth!” 

With the stillness of an otherwise very noisy and chaotic house, Harry could feel the wards pulse. He hadn’t been lying. He has no idea where Charlus got those words, but it wasn’t from him. But it would seem James wouldn’t be taking that for his answer. 

Harry could feel his heart slow down, the expression on his face falling flat and still. His eyes dulled in their usual glittering green. 

“You're right. I told Charlie those things because I was upset with him.” Harry starts.

Lily makes a hurt noise, her eyes turning teary. James nods and sits back down, like he had expected that. 

“I was annoyed and hadn’t gotten much sleep. I meant to apologize before he told you, but it's too late now. I know I can get short with people when I'm sleepy. I'm sorry, mom, dad.” he says, keeping his voice blank. 

“You're grounded. And you’re going to apologize to Charlie when he wakes up. Do you understand?” James said. 

“Yes.” Harry responded.

“That means no fun outside time. No quidditch. No friends over. No feeding the birds or playing in the creek. If you're outside you're going to be helping the grounds elves in maintaining the yard. While inside, you're to help the kitchen elves. No fun. Until you go to Hogwarts." James says. 

Harry nods but doesn’t reply. He instead takes a sip from his tea. He remains silent until his siblings meander into the room for breakfast.

“I'm sorry I said those things to you, Charlie. You're not useless. Or unwanted. We all love you very much. I was just sleepy and annoyed. I shouldn't have taken it out on you.” Harry apologizes when his brother comes into the room. 

Charlus nods, "I accept your apology.” His expression pleased and satisfied. 

“Thank you.” he responds.

Harry would like to curse his little brother with something nasty. Just a little boil curse or something. He would deserve it, the little liar. It wasn’t even that he was mad about the grounding. The kitchen elves wouldn’t let him help in the kitchen, even if the lord Potter who employed them commanded it so. 

He didn’t play quidditch and he didn't have any friends. He didn’t play in the creek, he guarded it. The only thing he’s upset about was not getting to feed the birds with Rosie. His grounding did free up his time to finish his schoolbooks and annotate them. 

Harry had only read through four of them since he got them. The charms one, the history of magic one, the potions one, and the herbology one. He still had defense, astronomy, and transfiguration to go through. They would surely take the remaining two and a half weeks. 

Chapter Text

The first of September happens far quicker than Harry had thought. With all of his time filled, the time went by quickly. Soon he was shrinking his trunk and stepping through the floo onto the platform. 

The big red train was the first thing he saw, the second was the crowd of people. He stepped away from the fireplace and waited for his family to step through, tactfully ignoring the burnt thing that snarls violently in his face at his use of the floo. James and Charlus came through, then Lily and Rosie. 

“Are you excited?” Lily asked with a smile.

Harry nodded; he would be glad to get a break from the little bastard he called a brother. The weeks he had been grounded had been hell. Charlus had made it very difficult to simply exist. Harry almost wished he had said something rude to him. He hadn't though, which meant his punishment was baseless and pointless and stupid.

Before Harry can escape them, the Weasley brood meanders over. Usually, he doesn't have issues with most of them, but today was not the day. Percival was already scolding his brothers about something. 

The twins greeted Rosie like old friends. Ron clapped Charlus on the shoulder. Molly Weasley converged on Lily and Arthur Weasley started talking to James. That left the youngest Weasley, the girl named Ginny, to stare at him. 

He wanted to scare her into looking away but couldn't with all the eyes watching. Instead, he waited as patiently as he could. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the Weasleys said goodbye and left. 

“Write to us as soon as you get sorted, okay?” Lily said. 

“Okay.” he agreed. Not  likely.  

He hugged Rosie and went on his way. He didn't turn back to look at them and boarded the train. He spent a few minutes finding an empty compartment and sat there. When he had pulled his trunk from his bag and resized it on the rack, he sat back down. Only with one of his new fantasy books to fill the time. 

The compartment door slid open with a silent creak and his eyes immediately flicked to the person standing there. It was a pudgy boy with brown hair and a pale face. His cheeks were a rosy red, almost like he was embarrassed. 

The boy hesitated in the doorway.” Um. Could I- could I sit with you?” 

Harry surveyed him,” sure.” he decided. 

The boy was likely to be quiet and not cause Harry any pain. 

“I'm heir Harry Potter. Of the most ancient and most noble house of potters. It's nice to meet you.” he introduced himself, finally recognizing Neville Longbottom. 

The boy shoved his trunk into a compartment and sat down. A toad cage on his lap. “I'm heir Neville Longbottom. Of the ancient and most noble house of Longbottom. Nice to meet you too.” 

Harry nodded and went back to his book. He kept half an ear on listening to Longbottom speak with his toad. The timid boy was intriguing, in only that he seemed to be haunted by something. His eyes spoke of it in a way Harry hadn't seen before, not in a living person at least. 

The boy's magic was strong, but the wand he held didn't seem to be the match for him, which made him all the more intriguing. Harry would enjoy observing him on the ride to Hogwarts. 

***

“Oh!” Longbottom suddenly shouts, causing Harry to look up. A grayish-green toad suddenly lands in his free hand. 

Harry stares, before turning to look at Longbottom.” I believe this is yours.” 

Longbottom blushes slightly and reaches for his toad.” Sorry. Trevor has a mind of his own.” 

“It's fine,” he replies. His eyes connected with the other boys. He blushes brighter but Harry can see the hands appear on his shoulders, curling over them protectively. 

The silence reins as Harry stares at him, probably scaring the poor boy.

Longbottom seems to finally have enough of Harry staring at him. "Is- is something wrong, heir potter?” he stutters out nervously. 

Harry tilts his head, the hands growing claws as he speaks.” Your wand.” he states. 

Longbottom blinks in confusion, drawing his wand from where it rested in his pocket.” My wand? Is something wrong with it?” 

“It doesn't match with your magic,” he says. Confused, but not as he would have been if he hadn't met Lucinda Yaxley. 

She was the current heir to the house of Yaxley and she had her grandfather’s wand. It didn't match her at all and proved her some difficulty. The only reason Harry could tell was that wands that had bonded with a wixen already gave off a slight presence. 

The wand Longbottom held was giving off a slight presence and not one from a newly formed bond. Like the one Harry had with his wand. 

“What?” he whispers faintly. 

Harry pauses, “I'm sensitive to magic. It's weird, I know. But I am. I can sense the bonds between you and your wand.” he explains, only half a lie. 

“Oh. It- it's not that weird. I was just surprised. But no. it's not my wand, not originally. It was my dad’s.” Longbottom explains. 

Harry feels a bit bad, but mostly curious. The hands on his shoulders had gone back to their original state after Longbottom had calmed down. 

“I see. My apologies, I didn't mean to bring up bad memories,” he says. 

“No, don't apologize. It's nice, talking to someone about my parents. I mean someone other than my gran.” he rambles,” not that it's not nice to talk with my gran, but-” 

He cuts him off with a raised hand,” You don't need to defend your words, heir Longbottom. It's nice talking to someone my age about my magical sensitivity. My parents are older people, I assume it's a bit weird trying to understand and be understood by dowager Longbottom.” 

Longbottom nods,” it is.” 

They fall back into silence, but only for a little while. Harry slides his bookmark into place, closes his book, and slides one of his legs over the other. 

“Heir Longbottom, are you excited to go to Hogwarts?” Harry asks, genuinely curious. 

It's not the first time he’s interacted with someone his age, but his parents were always wary of letting him around other kids. 

“Um, I guess,” Longbottom replies. 

Harry gives him a considering look, his eyes glowing a faint green without his control.” She wants you to go into Gryffindor to be like your father, right?” 

Longbottom blinks at him, his mouth hanging slightly open.” How did you know?” 

“My father wants me to go into Gryffindor. It's not the same, but it’s the least likely house for me to go into,” Harry tells him. 

Longbottom winces and nods,” Gran wants me to go into Gryffindor, but I don't think I will. She’ll be cross when I'm not sorted into it.” 

“Do you believe she’ll disown you?” Harry asks with concern. 

He knows his parents will be upset about his sorting. They’ll be angry, disappointed, and distrusting, but they won't disown him. For one, mostly because the family magics won't take Charlus as the heir and Rosie can't be the heir as the house of Potter has to have a male heir. 

It's messed up, but unchangeable unless she was the last of the Potter line. Thought, she had to marry if she was. 

“I don't know,” Longbottom says. 

Harry almost pities him but doesn't. Longbottom had a lot of options he could take. Harry had heard the boy liked herbology and was good at it. Despite what most people believed, herbology wasn't an easy subject.

“Whatever house you do get into, Longbottom, I hope you enjoy it. Our time at Hogwarts is for us and no one else. We’re to do what we love and damn the consequences.” he says, his eyes locking with Longbottom's. 

The boy's eyes widened before a small smile crossed his face,” You too then, Potter. Whatever house you get in, enjoy it.” 

***

Harry talked with Longbottom until the sweet trolley came through, then he was thoroughly distracted. Not because of the sweets, but because of the lady pushing the cart. He couldn't look away from her. 

Her eyes were a sweet sky blue, and her hair was blonde with some graying edges. That wasn't the problem, no it was the air around her. Harry knew that if he looked away for even a second, she’d see him. 

She looked like a normal woman. A blue dress and a white apron. Harry bought a few candies, mostly so he wouldn't attract attention, but he also wanted to observe her some more. He bought some black cherry imps, sour apple bites, and some sugar quills. 

Longbottom bought some chocolate frogs, pumpkin pasties, jelly slugs, and a candy Harry hadn't ever seen before. Something called sound sweet’s. Harry could finally look away once the trolly lady passed by their car. Taking her insane presence away with her. 

Harry shared his sweets with Longbottom, and Longbottom shared them with him as well. He was still a bit distracted by what he had seen. His father had mentioned that the train employed squibs to drive the train and do its upkeep. He had assumed all the adults on the train would be squibs. 

***

Night had fallen by the time they had reached Hogsmeade station. Luckily it wasn't raining or Harry just might refuse to get off. They had gotten dressed in their blank school robes when they were almost there. The prefects had stopped by to let them know.

“Are you ready, Longbottom?” he asks as they step off the train. 

He sighs,” No.” 

Harry suppresses a chuckle and gives him a consoling look.” Well, can't run away now.” 

Longbottom sulks as they are called forward. The keeper of the grounds, Hagrid leads them to a row of boats. Harry frowns at the dubious contraptions but climbs onto one anyway. A girl with brown straight hair and a girl with curly black hair joined them. 

Harry didn't pay them much attention, still having an ongoing conversation with Longbottom. The hour-long train ride was good for making friends it seemed. Maybe that was why they had all the students ride a train instead of flooing into Hogsmeade. 

Harry feels their boat catch on something and glances down. A thousand hands reach up from the water. Harry scowls at them but doesn't say anything. If anyone else could see them they would have screamed, Harry was just too used to things like that. 

He sniffs in the cold wind, his nose running slightly. It's then, riding on a little wooden boat across a haunted lake, that he realizes his little aches have disappeared. He hadn't noticed before, but all the magic on the platform and train had made him fine once more. 

It was a little annoying, but something he could deal with. As they get closer, the castle finally comes into view. Harry holds his breath as he looks upon Hogwarts for the first time. 

The castle looks huge. The windows lit up with light as they approached. The real beauty is the magic radiating over the whole thing. As they creep closer, Harry feels the wards prob at them curiously. 

The wards prob at their cores and recognize them as students. It tickles when they get to him, making him cough to hide the giggle that tried to escape. He found that the wards were much more beautiful to look at than the castle, but mostly because the castle was much too bright up close. 

As they got closer, Harry got more nervous. Not that he let it show. He swallowed heavily as they arrived on the other side. Longbottom looks like how Harry feels. Pale-faced, with sweat beading at his hairline. His hands were clenched at his sides. 

Harry leaned over before he could think better of it,” It's going to be alright, Longbottom. I will have your back for this.” he whispered, shocking even himself with his words. 

Longbottom looks at him, a small ember of hope in his eyes. He smiles wanly,” Hogwarts is our freedom, yeah?” 

“Yes.” Harry doesn't think before offering his hand. 

Longbottom does not react to his cold skin, just squeezes his fingers around Harry's palm. Harry feels a previously unknown courage surge up in him. The courage to continue and be not afraid of the reactions he’d get. 

The broad grandiose door to the castle flies open, letting a tall woman with a stern face step out. 

“The first’ years Professor McGonagall,” Hagrid says, offering a little bow.

“Thank you, Rubeus. Follow me, children,” she commands. 

The group of eleven-year-olds follow her into the castle, and their lives are forever changed. 

***

They come upon the great hall doors quickly, the woman’s stride not slowing to accommodate their tiny legs. They pause once they get to the door. 

“Stay out here and make yourselves presentable. I will see if they are ready for you,” she says and enters the hall. 

They don't get to see what happens. Harry surveys over Longbottom, noting his hair that stuck up a little. He doesn't point it out, knowing it wouldn't change much. He was sure that a little messy hair wasn't going to change anything. Besides, his hair was messy. 

It didn't matter much, when the door swung open, and they got their first peaks inside. Visible ghosts floated through, greeting them and causing a few people to scream, most likely muggle-borns. 

Harry made eye contact with the poltergeist and deliberately looked away. The other ghosts had noticed him immediately but didn't speak. They kept floating past while Harry examined what he could see of the great hall. 

Students sat at a long table with black robes and pointy hats. The colors of their house decorated their robes, but also the whole room. The whole space was a mix of yellow, green, blue, and red, with other accent colors thrown in. 

From what Harry could see, it was pretty. Not the same breath-taking as the view of the castle from the lake, but very close. The candles float through the illusion of a sky, with the night sky a brilliant dark blue with the little specs of stars. A full, bright moon lit up in the corner. 

Harry wasn't sure how to describe what he was feeling, Awe, fear, apprehension. All of those didn't even seem to come close to what he was feeling. Wonder, amazement, all of it. It was a mess, his emotions, but it was a glorious one. 

He squeezed gently at the hand tucked into his, glancing over to see Longbottom staring up at the ceiling, his brown eyes sparkled with wonderment and Harry found he was happy. Here he was expecting to be fighting to breathe as he made his way to get sorted. 

How wrong he was. 

At the center of the room in the front, was a stool, and on that stool was a hat. At first, Harry hadn't noticed it, but he could see it now. A very old magically imbued hat. Said hat opened its mouth and began to sing. Harry wasn't sure what to make of it, but it wasn't the weirdest thing he had ever seen. 

The group of eleven-year-olds made their way to the front of the room, walking between two tables and being observed by the older students. Harry ignored all of it, there was no need for anxiety over them yet. 

The professor led them to the front and made them form a small group, all huddled up with each other. Most seemed nervous, not that he could blame them, he too was nervous. 

“I’ll call out your names, so come up here and sit on the stool.” the woman says.” Now, Abbott, Hannah.” 

A blonde girl made her way up. She sat on the stool and the sorting hat was dropped onto her head. The hat was much too big, as it dropped down to cover her eyes. Its mouth ripped back open not a second later. 

“Hufflepuff!” it shouts and is snatched from the little girl’s head. 

Abbott heads to the yellow table. Loud applause sounds across the hall, probably from a relative. The next person to be called up is a chubby red-headed girl. She’s also sorted into Hufflepuff.  

It continues like that, with students being sorted left and right. Right until it’s Longbottom’s turn. Harry gives his hand an encouraging squeeze and the taller boy walks up to the stool. He sits and the hat drops over his head and Harry waits. 

Something like anticipation for the person he had just spent hours speaking with.  Harry doesn't let his eyes wander; they stay stuck on the nervous boy on the stool. It feels like forever before the hat calls out its decision. 

“Hufflepuff!” it says. Harry breathes out and watches Longbottom stumble his way to the yellow table. 

He’s happy for him. Though it leaves him standing there alone. Leaves him to feel his nervousness over his sorting swell in his heart. But if Longbottom could choose the house in which he would fit most, then so could Harry. 

Even if his parents decided he needn't come home for Christmas, or they kept watchful eyes on him.  More people are sorted. Going to all four of the houses, Harry swallows softly and watches as Sally-Anne Perks is sorted into Gryffindor. 

Then, it's his turn. His turn to slide his mask into place and stride up there. He doesn't let his eyes scan over the gathered student body. He waits, the hat settling on his head easily. 

“ What a surprise. Hello, heir Preverall. What an honor it is to meet one such as yourself. Now, you seem to know exactly which house you’ll be sorted into.” the hat says.

“ Yes. ” Harry  replies, "With the held-out hope that I have enough Ravenclaw traits to go there.” 

The hat sends a sympathetic emotion through him,” I'm afraid it's unlikely. But you are the heir Preverall, impossible and unlikely seems not to affect your kind. Tell me, child, do you truly wish to go into Ravenclaw when you would thrive in Slytherin?” 

Harry swallows, his heart racing as he closes his eyes against the world.” No.” he confesses,” I  don't.”  

The hat gives off the feeling that it was grinning,” then it seems you have made your choice. Better be Slytherin! ” 

He waits for the hat to be taken from his head, but it would seem his sorting was a shock. No one claps as he removes the hat and sets it on the stool. He appears unaffected by the silence as he walks over to the green table. 

He was a snake now, the green on his robes already signifying him as such. A reaction finally happens, those from the red table, Gryffindor, start booing. Harry doesn't react and takes his seat. The noise seems to snape everyone else out of their stupor. 

The next person is called up to be sorted. She also goes to Slytherin. The Parkinson's heiress. He surveys the people closest to him, seeing odd things only pureblood wixen could have. 

“So, Potter, surprised to find yourself here?” the silvery blonde-haired boy asks, obviously a Malfoy. 

Harry raises an eyebrow at him, his green eyes boring into the boy's own.” Do I seem surprised?” 

The Malfoy boy swallows,” well-.” 

“Do be quiet Draco,” the girl across from him says.” You’ll only embarrass yourself. He knew which house he’d sort. Just look at him.” 

A Greengrass Harry notices, a neutral family. It's not the only thing Harry notices about her. Harry almost clicks his tongue but doesn't. It would not have the same effect it had on his spirits. His eyes flick up to the stool, only to observe who’s on it. 

Only to find orange-brown eyes boring into his own. He stares back, curious. The boy on the stool is familiar, but he couldn't place it. He almost tilts his head but doesn't. It's only when the boy starts walking towards the table and sits across from Harry does it come to him. 

The intriguing boy from Diagon. Harry lets his eyes flash just a bit as he sits down. The boy's eyes don't change or flashback, but he gains a half-surprised look. Harry only looks away when the headmaster stands to make his welcoming speech. 

Since he was looking at the professor’s table, he decided to survey the rest of them. Most seem to be listening to the headmaster, with only two exceptions. A sallow black-haired man with a sneer and a black woman with stars woven into her robes and witch's hat. 

Harry assumes she is the rumored astronomy professor, or she simply likes stars. Both of their gazes were set on the Slytherin table. Both looked over them with keen eyes. It's only when Harry meets the man's eyes does, he realizes who it is.

 Severus Snape, potions master, potions professor, head to house Slytherin, and a man who hated James Potter more than the sun hated clouds. The hatred-filled look almost startles Harry, but he doesn't let it show. He simply looks away, acting as if he hadn't seen him. 

Chapter Text

Once everyone finishes eating, the newly sorted students are led to their house's common room. Harry follows behind the Greengrass heiress, with the Zabini heir and the Davis girl discussing something just behind him. 

His gaze darts to the portraits that watch them. He’s very familiar with portraits, as they had snitched on him before to his parents. Harry assumed the hallways were lined with them so they could monitor the students and report back to the teachers and headmaster. 

It was a long walk to the dungeons, so many flights of stairs leading downwards. The hallways were dark as they walked. Small scones on the walls and the prefect's wands lit up in a lumos seemed to be the only light. 

Harry didn't show that the darkness made him far more comfortable than any light-covered room did. Showing things, and showing emotions were a death sentence, especially for him. He would be watched closely. 

They finally arrived at the common room, the door swinging open to let them inside. The Slytherin students flooded the common room. All the older ones spread out and settle in for what Harry assumes to be a speech from the prefects. 

The first years are sat in the front by the unlit fireplace. Harry takes his place beside a pale boy with straight brown hair. Sitting beside him feels like sitting in the shadows in the stairwell. Harry’s not sure what it was about the boy, but he felt similar to the creatures only Harry could see. 

“I'm Lawrence Selwyn, and this is Sienna Tripe. We’re the fourth-year prefects.” introduced a boy with brown straight hair and no robes on. The girl standing beside him had long brown hair tied back in a braid. 

“My name is Gemma Fawley, and this is Terrence Higgs, we’re the fifth-year prefects.” a girl with tan skin and brown curly hair was introduced. Her appearance was immaculate and perfect. Her partner, a boy with glasses, sandy blonde hair, and pale white skin stands beside her. 

“I’m Jeremy Rowle, and my partner is Ximena Sebastian. We’re the sixth-year prefects and the ones you’ll be dealing with the most.” introduces a boy with a slim, pointed face and black hair. The girl standing next to him is an ice wall. Blonde hair, white skin, indifferent face. 

“I'm Savannah Orpington and this is my partner Bentley Bulstrode. We’re the seventh-year prefects.” a dark blonde girl introduces, gesturing to a hulking boy with brown hair and a squint on his face as he stares at them. 

The girl who introduced herself as Gemma Fawley steps forward.” we welcome our new housemates to house Slytherin.”

“We’ll go over the rules while we wait for our head of house to come in and give the introductory speech and go over his expectations.” the boy introduced as Terrence Higgs says. 

“Slytherin is a noble house. It is expected of every student to do our very best. We will not allow anyone to fail. If you're in danger of failing, you’ll be pulled aside for tutoring. To those outside of our house, Slytherin is a family.” Prefect Rowle states. 

Prefect Sebastian continues,” You won't show discord amongst yourselves. You will present a united front. We must stick together because every other house reviles us.” 

“That is why the buddy system is in place. No one Slytherin is allowed to go off by themselves. You must always have another Slytherin with you. It’s for the best. The bigger the group, the better.” prefect Orpington said. 

Prefect Bulstrode nodded,” Disputes are handled in-house. We have a dueling room for disagreements. Make use of it as you will. No serious injuries are allowed.” 

“If you feel you or another student are in danger, even if they're not in house Slytherin, you may come to us, the prefects, an older student, or Professor Snape or Professor Sinistra. Of course, you are welcome to go to another professor if you wish.” Prefect Orpington states. 

“Our reputation is our glory, so uphold it. We are dangerous and aloof. Show no fear towards those outside.” Prefect Higgs says, staring hard at them. 

“Excellently said.” a silky voice says from behind them. 

Harry doesn't jump with the rest, his eyes settling on the man who steps out of the shadows. The shadows had already shown Harry someone was there. Professor Snape, their head of house, makes his way to the front of the room. 

“Thank you, professor.” Prefect Rowle says, all six of the prefects stepping away. 

The man nods in the boy's direction and looks them over.” it is wonderful to see so many new students sort into Slytherin. Now, you have been told the rules and expectations of your house. I welcome you to Slytherin.” the man starts. 

“All of you will schedule an appointment with Madam Pomfrey before October. Slytherin is a house of cunning and self-preservation. It is expected that you’ll break rules, do not get caught. If you are caught by me, we will have a meeting. If you are caught by another professor, you will lose points and/or get detentions. Remember, Slytherins do not charge in blindly. Curfew for first and second years is nine at night to six in the morning. That means you are not allowed outside your dorm rooms any time after nine or before six.” snape says, his face stern. 

Harry wasn't sure how to describe the man. He felt different, something dark clinging to his skin. Whispers floated in his voice as he spoke, whispers of people long dead. Harry wanted to know what the professor had done to have whispered in his voice. He wanted to learn his story at the very least. 

“If you are caught, you will be dragged back inside. Classes do not start until next week. Tomorrow the prefect will lead you around and let you familiarize yourself with the castle. I will not have any bad behavior. If you respect me, I will respect you. Now, get to bed. First and second years are not allowed to participate in the duels that take place on the first night.” Snape informs them. 

“Follow me to your dorms.” Prefect Higgs and Prefect Fawley say. Each pointing to the boys and girls respectively. 

“Potter.” a voice spits, causing Harry to pause. His eyes darted to the voice. Professor Snape stands with his arms crossed.” come here.” 

Harry does, walking steadily over towards the man. He doesn't know what he’s expecting. “Yes, professor?” he asks softly. The hostility seems at odds with the way the shadows cling to the hem of his robes. 

The man stares down his nose at him.” mischief will not be tolerated.” he says. 

Harry blinks in confusion, “of course professor.” he answers. 

It only causes the man to sneer,” I will not cater to your foolishness. You have sorted into Slytherin and there are very different expectations here. There will be no pranking. I will not allow you to bully other students.” 

Harry has to blink again, confusion swirling through his mind.” I understand, sir.” he states. When really, he didn't. Did Harry have a reputation for prank-pulling? He wasn't sure. Anyone could be spreading rumors about him. 

“Good.” Snape barks,” go to your room.” 

Harry hurries off, finding Prefect Higgs standing close to a door. In his hand was a metallic charm in the shape of a key. 

“Potter, here’s your room key. Your roommates are already inside.” Higgs says, handing him the key and disappearing. Not even lingering to see if he had any questions. 

Harry almost sighs but manages not to. Instead, he taps the key against the Plaque and opens the door. Inside was the dark-skinned boy and the pale one that felt like shadows. Both were intriguing. 

The one who had been addressed as Zabini watched him closely. His orange eyes stuck on him as he walked inside. The other two boys had already chosen beds. All three are on the same wall, with desks in between them. They were all identical. 

Zabini had chosen the one closest to the door. The boy who was addressed as Nott chose the one next to him.  Three wardrobes were settled against the wall across from the beds. With a door on the wall beside them and the beds that led to a bathroom. three sinks, one toilet, and one shower/bath. 

Harry walked towards his bed and sat on it, waiting for his trunk and things to appear. Zabini watched him the whole time, his orange eyes stuck on him.  The other boy pays them no mind, his back to them as he goes through his wardrobe. Empty as it was. 

Now that Harry was alone in a room with them, he could get a better read on them. With Nott feeling like shadows and Zabini feeling like the sun. it was odd, but not the oddest thing he had seen. 

His trunk pops into existence, a good distraction. Hedwig will have hopefully made it safely to the owlery, Harry wanted his companion. He didn't dwell on the thought long, moving to open his trunk to take his clothes out. 

He hung them up in his wardrobe, shoving things into their correct places. He finished first, seeming to have the least number of things he wanted in his wardrobe. Harry grabbed a change of clothes and headed to the bathroom for a shower. 

His first night at Hogwarts, how wild to think about. 

*** 

Harry was shaken awake in the middle of the night. A long, spindly dark hand wrapped around his ankle. It shakes him again, a low croon coming from outside of his drapes. He sighs softly and opens his curtains. 

Two glowing golden eyes peer up at him from the floor. The hand shakes his leg again. 

“Stop that,” he whispers, tugging his leg away. 

It gives a rattling grumble and releases him, disappearing back under his bed. Harry slides his curtains shut and turns over to go to sleep.  

The sun comes up not long after that, maybe three hours. Harry doesn't mind it as he usually does. Simply ready to be up and have an excuse to wander the castle. He doesn't take long to get ready. He combs his hair, though it does little to tame the mess. His robes, once all black, were now lined with the silver and green of the house he was sorted into. 

When he leaves the bathroom, Nott is already gone. Though Zabini is still there, messing with his hair. 

“Potter.” the boy greets as Harry steps out. His orange eyes focus on Harry with intensity. 

“Zabini,” Harry murmurs back, his own eyes staring back. His glasses do little to stop the way they flash as he stares at the other boy. 

Zabini certainly notices, if the way satisfaction crosses his face is anything to go by. Harry ignores him after that, turning away to grab his bag from his trunk. He had all his books and things tucked away inside, ready for whatever he needed that day. 

With his bag over his shoulder, he headed out. Thankfully no one paid him any attention as he walked into the common room. It was only when he got to the door did someone focused on him. A few older students stare at him as he leaves. 

It's a long walk from the dungeons to the great hall. Especially for him. It seems like the things that live in Hogwarts are clamoring to meet him. He’s followed the second he steps through the door. Several different things follow him the full way. 

Up the stairs, down the halls, all the way to the grand doors that lead into the great hall where they eat. They don't follow him inside though, nothing does. His shadow is his own as he steps through the threshold of the doors. 

It's probably because as soon as he does, everyone's eyes dart to him. His face doesn't change from the placid blankness it had started as. No annoyance or trepidation shows on his face. There was no falter in his steps as he walked.  His green eyes scan through the masses quickly as he walks. 

He sits beside the girl with short blonde hair, but he leaves plenty of space between them. The rest of the bench is empty. Harry pours himself something to drink and blatantly ignores the stares he’s getting. He only starts paying attention again when someone sits beside him. 

A quick glance shows its Zabini. He doesn't say anything to the boy, instead, he puts some eggs on his plate and eats them. He feels the presence of the ghosts arrive as he eats. One rises from the ground at the Gryffindor table. Another comes through the wall behind them. 

Zabini shoots a glance over his shoulder, his face scrunching up as he stares behind him. Curious, Harry looks backward. The ghost that's looking over them has a severely grim face, with long hair. 

He surveys them, taking in all the first-year Slytherins. Then he floats away. Thankfully, his stare doesn't linger on Harry. It's only as the ghost floats away that he realizes how scared the girl beside him has looked. Her brown eyes were wide in terror. 

He glances over at Zabini to find him already looking at him with a curious expression. He blinks once in the other boy's direction and goes back to his food. 

“That was the bloody baron.” someone whispers,” he’s the Slytherin's ghost. He’s terrifying, but I've heard you get used to him.” 

Harry didn't find him terrifying, but there weren't a lot of things he found terrifying. Honestly, most things found him terrifying. He wonders if his year mates could see what he could, would they be terrified? 

The cries and screeches of the owls break him from his thoughts. Packages from family's land all around them. His wonderful, white owl lands in front of him, though she doesn't have any mail. 

“Hello Hedwig.” he greets softly with a smile, his hand coming up to rub at her head. He gets a soft hoot. 

Harry just so happens to be looking up when the hall goes silent. A severe-looking brown owl carrying a red letter flies in. The silence is foreboding and hostile. He isn't sure why. He only starts worrying when the owl goes towards Longbottom. 

He stares hard at the letter, willing it to stay silent. Everyone holds their breath as it drops in front of Longbottom. The poor boy looks so pale like he’s going to pass out. Harry lets his eyes flash, knowing Zabini is watching him closely. 

Longbottom's hands shake as he opens it, but nothing happens. It doesn't swell up and it doesn't start shouting. Everyone seems confused, a murmur rising from the hoard of students. 

“Silence.” Professor McGonagall orders, she swings her wand at it, a spell passing over it.” Mister Longbottom, put your letter away. It is somehow defective.” 

Harry watches Zabini’s eyes widen from the corner of his vision. The other boy hadn't removed his stare at all. Harry sips at his tea as the professor stands up. Their head of house swiftly moves towards them, papers held in his hand. 

“Your schedules,” Snape says, passing them around. 

The man doesn't linger, as soon as they have their schedules, he moves on. He’s the first one finished with passing them out, which means he gets to leave first. 

***

Harry follows the other Slytherins to his first class, charms. They have the same class as the Gryffindors, which he thinks is stupid. From everything his parents and his uncles had told him, Gryffindors and Slytherins did not get along. 

They don't have to wait outside for long, thankfully. That would only lead to a fight. They hadn't even been there for a week and already the house rivalry was flourishing. It was ridiculous. The muggle-born and muggle-raised were sucked up into the flow of things swiftly as well. 

Harry slides into the empty seat at the back. No one sits next to him, though Nott and Zabini sit in front of him. 

“Hello! Hello!” Professor Flitwick greets once everyone is sat down. The short man was extremely cheerful. “I will be going over attendance first before we start.” 

Harry tunes him out, instead flicking open his book and flipping through the pages. He had little notes written in the margins. Mostly about not overpowering spells and how to move his wand. 

“Harry Potter!” the man squeaks, causing him to look up. 

“Here, sir,” he murmurs. 

He gets a nod in answer. The man finishes off the list with Zabini. Then he goes into a long ramble about the theory behind the Accio spell. A simple summoning spell. Everyone with even an ounce of magic could perform a summoning charm. 

An A ccio was easy, a simple wand movement. He had put too much magic into it once and nearly sprained his wrist when catching the summoned item. 

“Now, you all may attempt to summon one of the feathers I have in this pile here.” the professor says, gesturing to a small wooden box of feathers. 

Harry raised his wand, accompanied by the rest of his classmates, and flicked it. “ Accio ,” he murmured, though it wasn't necessary, neither was his wand. 

A feather merrily floated up from the box and zoomed towards him. He caught it before it could collide with his wand or face. A few others got it on their first try, including most of the Slytherins. Harry watched as a boy, a Gryffindor, twisted his wrist as he cast. 

Harry only barely flinched as his feather exploded in his face. The professor toppled off his stack of books at the explosion. Many of the others also flinched in surprise. 

***

During lunch, he decides to bite the bullet and write to his parents. If his hands shake as he writes the letter, it's easily ignored. For the most part, anyhow. It's a short letter, maybe a paragraph if he was being generous. 

He didn't want to write much. Too nervous to do that. His quill looped across the paper as he wrote. 

Mom, dad,

I've been sorted into Slytherin. Hogwarts is amazing. The food is brilliant, and I've made a friend. Neville Longbottom sat with me on the train. It was a long ride, but it seemed to pass in seconds. The castle is huge and beautiful. We’ve already learned a spell, the summoning charm. 

Sincerely,

Harry potter.  

He swallowed thickly and folded the letter up. The walk up to the owlery had him trembling. His eyes stinging with unshed tears. His throat hurt from his need to cry, but he didn't. On the climb up to the owlery, he didn't encounter anyone. 

It wasn't a surprise; everyone had written home in excitement on their first night there. He sniffled and opened the door. His heart pounding in his chest. Fear tightened in his stomach as Hedwig flew down from her perch. 

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Only a slight puff of air. He swiped his hands on his robes, the paper crinkling from the tight grip he had on it. He sucked in a desperate breath, blinked hard, and tried to speak again. 

Hedwig cooed at him from where she had landed on his shoulder. Her beak combed through his hair in an attempt to comfort him. It felt like he was dying, but he knew that was stupid. 

“Th-.” he tried but couldn't manage to get out. He licked his lips as a tear fell from his eye. 

He needed to breathe, but it seemed like the hardest task possible. He could feel the concern radiating from his owl, but there was nothing he could do. Everything was too much, he needed to sit down, or he’d pass out. 

He stumbled towards the wall, ignoring his owl when she hopped off his shoulder at his jerky movements. Harry paid no mind as he sunk to the ground, his hands squeezed in tight as he tried to breathe again. 

Harry had dropped his letter somewhere, but he didn't know where. He squeezed his hands harder into fists, the pain jolting him back into reality. Harry sucked in a breath, finally able to blink the tears out of his vision. 

Hedwig and another owl were perched on his legs, tugging at his sleeves. He sucked in another trembling breath, slowly loosening his fists to reach out to them. His wonderful owl cooed at him and hopped closer. 

The other owl, seeing him calm, flew off. Back towards its perch. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, rubbing her head. She hooted at him and flew off. She didn't go far, only far enough to retrieve his crumpled letter from the ground. 

It had a shoe print on it and the envelope was a bit torn, but it was fine. His hands were still shaking as he grabbed it. 

“This is for my parents.” he finally manages, letting Hedwig grab the letter in her beak. 

With it in her hold, she flew off.  He drags himself away from the wall and back down the stairs. 

***

After lunch and their break, they have the second class of the day. Defense against the dark arts. Harry’s especially curious about it, but as soon as he walked into the class something compressed down on him. 

He almost choked; it was so heavy. He did stumble a bit, looking like he had tripped over the air. Those who had seen sniggered at him, but he couldn't pay them any mind. Whatever was pressing down on him was coming from the front of the room where the professor stood. 

He couldn't get himself to move, couldn't make himself walk forward, so he didn't. His instincts were good, so whatever it was, was something so horrid his own magic didn't want him anywhere near it. 

His seat in both of his first classes would be in the back, which he didn't mind. He swallowed thickly, ignoring that he was boxed in by Nott and Zabini. The two boys sat on both sides of him. Harry was just thankful they were close to the door. 

The oppressive atmosphere was causing his head to pound and his eyes to cross. It didn't help that the whole room smelled like a garlic clove. It was so strong everyone was wrinkling their nose at it. 

As discretely as he could, he allowed a bit of his magic to cover his nose. Hoping that having some fresh air would help his headache. It didn't. 

The professor stood at the front of the room. A purple turban covered his head. It matched his purple and black robes. Harry didn't like how his eyes pounded as he looked at the man. He looked away. 

“H-hello cl-class.” the man greeted. 

He heard Nott sigh on his right and frowned. The professor had a stutter, but that didn't bother him. It was only whatever terrible thing he had and the weird smell of garlic. 

“W-we’ll b-be go-going over-r the i-in-introdut-tionary chap-pter.” he says,”p-page tw-twenty two.” 

Harry listens to the man prattle on about what he expects from them and their essays. He tells them what is allowed and what is not and that they won't be using any magic. Harry figures that's reasonable. You can't have a bunch of eleven and twelve-year-olds dueling each other without at least a rudimentary knowledge of the spells they're to use. 

The rest of the class doesn't agree. The disappointment spread through his classmates.

Chapter Text

Hogwarts was not what he expected. In both good and bad ways. Its good in the way he has so much magic to access he doesn't have a single cold day. It's good in the way he can learn as much as he wants, with a huge library and no restrictions. 

It's bad in the way no one seems to like him. No one talks to him, they talk about him. It was annoying. They didn't know what to make of him, with his unnatural green eyes and the way the shadows clung to him in the halls. 

Even the Slytherins seemed to want nothing to do with him. The older Slytherins seemed content to watch him like he was an interesting show. The younger ones seemed to despise him. He was sure it wasn't just Gryffindor’s throwing hexes his way when he was in the halls. 

Harry was a bit disappointed, but it wasn't actually surprising. His own parents didn't like spending time with him, why would anyone else? At least the creatures of Hogwarts were nice. They didn't seem to have any problems with him, just like the ones that lived in his house. 

“ Little ssspeaker, where are you off to with sssuch a long face?” a voice spoke up, causing him to pause in his thoughts. 

He glanced around the corridor, catching the eyes of a giant snake portrait hanging on the wall. 

“ Hello. I'm heading to the library to write an essssay,” Harry  replied, moving closer to the snake painting. 

It bobbed its head in a nod,” I sssee, but that isss not what you are worried about.” 

Harry grimaced,” I  have no one human to talk to.” 

The snake made a scoff-like noise, tilting its head at him.” you do not need humansss to ssspeak with. You are you, ssspeak with the ssshadow’sss that cling to your feet. Or usss portraitsss hanging on the wallsss.”  

Harry shrugs at it,” It would sstill be nice to have sssomeone.”  

“ Little ssspeaker, I have ssseen you in the sssnakesss den. They are tesssting you. Tasssting the air to ssee if you are prey or predator. Once they know, you will find your nesssstmatesss.”  the snake hissed, trying to reassure him. 

“ Maybe,” Harry replied. 

The snake was silent for a moment after his response.” it doesss not matter, either way, ssspeaker. Go to your library.”  

“ Goodbye, then,” Harry murmured, walking away. 

***

Hogwarts Library is a dream. It's captivating. Bookshelves stretch high into the air, all the way to the ceiling. Pale white lights float around the space to provide some lighting. Tables and desks decorate the floor space where the bookshelves aren't. The restricted section was behind Madam Pince’s desk. Like she was the guardian of it. 

The second floor was a little darker, more smaller tables and shorter shelves. There were large windows that stretched from floor to ceiling on both floors. It was much better than the library his family had. Harry decided he loved it and would spend more time there. 

He found the necessary books for his essay and sat down to write it. He had chosen an empty table on the second floor. It took no time at all to write. He could have written it in his dorm, but Nott spent a lot of time in their dorm. 

Harry put the book away and cast a drying charm on his paper. It wouldn't do to ruin it after he’d just written it. Though it was only twelve inches. He tucked his dry essay into his bag along with his writing supplies and left the library. With a promise to visit more when he had free time. 

On his way back to his common room, he ran into a group of five Gryffindor boys. Ronald Weasley is among them. When they caught sight of him, their expressions changed. Darkening with dislike, the boys drew their wands. 

Ron Weasley stepped forward first, a sneer fixed on his face.” what are you doing here potter?” he spit out. 

“Just going back to my common room,” Harry replied calmly. Thankfully, he was alone. Nothing clung to him during his walk to and from the library. 

“By yourself?” one of the other boys questioned with a smirk.” that's brave of you, Slytherin. ” 

Harry huffed,” How is it brave?” 

Weasley took another step forward,” because you're all by yourself against all five of us.” then he cast a spell. A calvario , meant to disappear his hair. 

Harry’s wand fell into his hand as he stepped out of the way. His expression turned solemn. He could have deflected it with his hand, his magic freezing his hand as he held it. 

“What? Not going to say anything, traitor?” Weasley spat, his eyes venomous. 

“I have nothing to say. I did not betray anyone,” Harry responds, his eyes never wavering from where he stared the Gryffindors down. 

“Yes, you did!  You betrayed the Potter bloodline! Potters have always been Gryffindor’s!” Weasley yelled, slinging a densaugeo.  

Harry shields against it, and the jet of blue bounces off it harmlessly. “There have been Slytherin potters. I have not betrayed the Potter bloodline. It's none of your business anyway.” 

Weasley snarled,” No there haven't. It's only you , the freak of the family!” 

One of his friends jeers,” A slimy Slytherin who has no friends either!” 

Harry doesn't react, though the words do stab at him. He was the freak of the family, so very different from his parents and siblings. He hadn't made any friends either, not yet at least. Longbottom didn't count, as the Hufflepuff's had scooped him up and occupied his time. 

“He’s a freak and a liar! Harry Potter, the biggest disappointment. Have you even written to your parents yet?” Weasley asks cruelly. 

“I bet he hasn't. Else he would've had a howler just like Longbottom.” one of Weasley’s friends answers. 

“Does it matter?” Harry asks, his voice bored.” it's still none of your business.” 

Before the boys can respond, someone calls out.” what do you six think you're doing?” 

Harry turns his head, careful to keep the Gryffindors in front of him, to see Professor McGonagall marching towards them. Her expression was fierce. 

“He was casting spells at us professor!” Weasley yelps, hastily tucking his wand away. 

Harry carefully does the same, sliding it into his holster. The tall woman approaches, sending Harry a sharp look. 

“Is this true, Mister Potter?” she asks. 

“No, professor,” he answers, not elaborating. 

“It is!” one of the boys says, protesting.

“Yeah. he was slinging curses at us. We were just trying to go to the library.” another agrees. 

“Mister Dillon, Mister Finnegan, enough.” the professor says.” there is to be no dueling in the halls. Mister Potter, you will attend detention with Mister Filch tomorrow night. And ten points from Slytherin.” 

Harry blinks and looks away from her eyes, but he doesn't respond.

“Mister Potter, do you understand me?” she asks. 

“Yes, professor,” he replies. I understand you didn't even ask for me to explain my side of the story. How…disappointing.  

“Good. run along now,” she orders. 

Harry walks past the Gryffindors and swallows his rage at the smug smirks on their faces. Once he’s closer to the dungeons, he hisses out a breath. He sends a venomous look at the blank wall. His eyes flash like he had cast a curse and the wall crumbles, turning to dust. 

He keeps walking. 

***

Harry likes the Slytherin common room. It's spacious and the window where the lake shines through is perfect. Being able to sit and stare out into the vast space is something he doesn't think he’ll ever be able to recreate. 

The fireplace is brilliant, especially with the cold stones of the room. Green rugs, chairs, and couches are scattered around the open space. Alone with some tables to study at. There are a few bookshelves lining some of the walls as well. 

The only downside is that it's almost always populated. The students, especially the older ones, hang around the area all the time. Harry would like to spend more time there, so he decides to chance it. 

He brings a book about the magical theory behind the stars with him into the common room. He chooses a plush, dark green chair with a high back. The fabric felt like velvet, but he couldn't be sure. 

Harry curls up in the chair, his book open on his lap. His chair is near the window that looks out into the lake, perfect for him to view. His chair also, conveniently, lets him see most of the room. There was little chance anyone could sneak up on him. 

It also gave him the perfect view to observe Blaise Zabini for once. The other boy seemed to only stare at him, now it was Harry’s turn to look. 

Where he sat gave him a perfect view of his roommates. Zabini and Nott sat at one of the tables, the Greengrass heiress and the Davis girl sat with them. Harry didn't stare and he didn't make it obvious he was looking. 

It was only a chance, that when Zabini looked up and looked over at him, their eyes connected. Orange eyes widen, then blink, in startlement. Harry doesn't blink and tilts his head slightly, observing Zabini’s reaction. 

Zabini looked away first, something twisting his features. Harry looked away, noticing the Malfoy heir's approach. 

“Potter.” the pale blonde says, “you're in my chair. Move.” 

Harry gave a slow blink and ignored him. It wasn't his chair, he could find another. 

“Potter, did you hear me? That's my chair, move!” Malfoy continues, his voice pitching high. 

Harry sighs, letting the noise be heard.” I have never seen you sit in this chair. I will sit wherever I want. Please leave me alone.” 

The blonde sneers, stepping closer.” you're a blood traitor, someone below me. That means you have to obey me, my family is above yours. That's my chair if I say it is, move. I won't say it again!” 

Harry wasn't going to move, but he didn't want to get into a duel. He already had detention from fucking Weasley, he didn't want another because Malfoy went squealing to his godfather. Harry was getting sick of these boys who thought they were some kind of superior to him. 

Why did two eleven-year-olds have such superiority complexes, he didn't know, but it was ridiculous. Before Harry had to make a decision, Zabini was beside them. 

“Draco, darling, why don't you leave him alone?” the boy suggested. 

His words seemed to suck the air out of the common room. Everything stilled. Harry’s eyes focused on Zabini’s own, narrowed slightly to gauge him. 

Malfoy spun to face Zabini, his features twisted in outrage.” what? You're taking up with Potter?” 

Zabini raises an eyebrow, staring Malfoy in the eyes.” who knows? But I'm trying to study, and your voice is grating on my ears. Potter is rarely seen in the common room as is, and it's dangerous for everyone if he’s outside of it so often.” 

Harry wanted to laugh, dangerous for all of them?   

Malfoy stomps his foot on the ground before storming off. Harry, very carefully, doesn't smirk. 

“This is where you say thank you,” Zabini says, looking at him. 

Though by the look in his eyes, it's all a part of his image. Zabini can feel how dangerous Harry is, especially to him. Harry knows because when he got back to the common room after his almost duel with Weasley, Zabini made sure no one got near him. A wary glance in his direction every so often until Harry had calmed down also made it clear to him. 

“Hmm,” Harry replies noncommittally, blinking at the boy. 

Face to face with his part-time observant, Harry takes in his features. A slim face with a medium-sized nose. Full lips and burnt orange eyes. A small chin and strong aristocratic cheekbones. Zabini was a pretty boy like most of the purebloods were. 

Though Harry didn't know if he was one. Even so, Zabini was also something else. Something else that turned his eyes orange and gave him slightly sharper canine teeth, though it was usually harder to notice the later thing. The boy worked hard to hide them. 

Harry was uncertain if his nails were naturally black or if it was nail polish, but they were different too. 

“You won't say anything?” Zabini asked, his voice tense. 

Harry tilts his head to the side, a smile quirking his mouth.” thank you for shooing away a pest.” Harry replies, his voice a soft hush. It's inaudible to anyone but Zabini. 

He watches the boy swallow, nod, and then walk away. Harry can't help but think he’s intriguing. Something in the back of his mind wants to know him. Wants to know if his nails are naturally black, or if it's paint. Wants to know if his eyes will change color by the time, he’s seventeen. Wants to know if his teeth are like a vampire's. Wants to know if he’s like a vampire. 

***

Detention that night is easy, he’s alone and tasked with cleaning the trophies in the trophy case. He’s kept company by a curious little creature that looks like two praying mantises put together. It has two heads, four arms, and eight legs. The creature is a dark iridescent color. After detention, he goes to bed. 

That morning, as Harry chews on some jam-covered toast, Leo swoops down with the rest of the owls to deliver mail. Leo was a large barn owl. His father’s from just after he got into the Auror program. The owl doesn't stay long, flying off as soon as he’s delivered the letter into Harry’s hands. 

He’s not stupid enough to open the letter right then, no, he’ll wait until he’s alone to open it. He tucks it away and pushes his worries to the back of his mind. He has three classes to attend that day. Though, astronomy isn't until late that night. 

“The quidditch game is coming up. Are you going to attend, Daphne?” he hears Nott ask, his voice soft. 

“Hmm, I'm not sure. Probably not.” the Greengrass heiress replies. 

Harry isn't sure what to make of the girl, with her icy magic that clings to Davis and the fourth-year Ravenclaw boy who hovers around Davis. He supposed the rumors that the Greengrass family had taken on two half-blood wards were true. 

“Potter, are you coming to the game?” Parkison asked snidely. 

He glanced up, noticing she had drawn all of the first-year Slytherin's attention. “I will go,” he answers. 

And that was the end of the discussion. Though by the look on most of their faces, he had surprised them. Once breakfast is over, they have their first class of the day. One they share with the Hufflepuffs is transfiguration. 

Despite trying to forget about the letter he had gotten, he couldn't. It circles in his mind the whole time he’s in class. It distracts him and almost makes him mess up a spell. Thankfully, he doesn't. Transfiguration is a dangerous class, a miscast spell could harm someone badly. 

It's worrying that they take it in their first year, but it's probably why they don't pair the Gryffindor's and Slytherin's together. Once class has finished, Harry trudges to the library. He’ll read the letter while he’s searching for a theoretical transfiguration book for his essay. 

Dear harry, 

I'm so glad you've made a friend! Charlie asks that you write to him about the classes, he’s so excited to go next year. Rosie asks that you write about the library. Is Severus treating you well? I'm so glad you've made a friend. How are you doing in your classes? Is any giving you trouble? The train ride is always long unless you have someone to talk to. It seems you did, I'm so glad. 

Your father is a bit disappointed, but he’ll get over it. Keep learning as much as you can. We love you very much. 

love,

Lily potter. 

Lady potter of the most ancient and most noble house of potters.

Charms mistress.

He refolds it and tucks it away. It's not terrible, but James had noticeably not written anything. He was probably more than ‘disappointed’. 

***

Later that night, Harry grabs his cloak and goes wandering. The cloak gives off vague protective feelings the whole time he has it wrapped around his shoulders. It felt like it was giving him a hug. Quiet rumbling comes from it instead of its usual purr. 

He was starting to think the cloak was far more ancient than the castle. Unless the castle was just quiet.  

“ Little one, what are you doing wandering the halls this late at night?” a tall smoky figure asked from behind him. 

“I'm just a bit restless,” he replied, which was true. 

Harry had so much more energy than he usually had. He felt like he could run miles or duel for hours. So much magic lingered in the castle. He hadn't felt a single pain since he had arrived. Plus, if he thought about the letter from his mother any longer, he’d go crazy. 

The imprint ghost gave a soft laugh and moved to rest its hand on his shoulder,” Then I shall show you something. It might be of use to you. Will you follow?” 

Harry nodded, allowing the ghost to lead him. It wasn't often that a ghost was so friendly. He was curious as to why. 

“You're not afraid of me. May I ask why?” he said politely. 

The ghost laughed again, its hand still soft and loose on his shoulder. If he needed to, he could pull away, but he felt safe with it. 

“ Why should I fear you, little master? Because you could send me away? I have been in this castle for a long time, far longer than the other ghosts. I have used up my energy protecting students. I had lived a long life and I live a longer afterlife. If you find need to banish me, you may. I have nothing to fear, so long as I remain peaceful. And I have no reason to not remain peaceful.” it replies, voice warm and soft. 

Harry can't help but smile, relaxing further.” thank you.” 

The ghost leans in, the cloak parting so Harry can look up at them.” no need to thank me, little one. You need allies, especially with how this world treats your kind.”  

He gets the faint impression of glowing white eyes, but before he can observe more the ghost moves their hand. 

“We are here,” they say. 

“Where is here?” Harry asks, glancing around the hallway. 

“ The kitchens. Near the Hufflepuff common room. ” they answer,” I figured if you were ever hungry while wandering or couldn't go to the common room for whatever reason, you could come here. Now, to get inside you must tickle the pear. “  

“Will the kitchen elves tell anyone if I go in?” he murmurs, staring up at the picture of fruit. 

“ Not unless you are sick or injured. They won't kick you out unless you're rude to them, so don't be. Though I doubt you would. You're a rather polite thing.” the ghost tells him.

He nods, still staring at the painting. 

“ As fun as this has been, little one, I believe you should get some sleep.”

Chapter Text

Harry decides, after twelve potions classes, that he hates the class. It had nothing to do with the subject of the class and everything to do with the teacher and students in the class. Severus Snape, despite Harry being a Slytherin, seemed to have it out for him. 

He critiqued everything Harry did, gave him low scores on his essays and potions, and just seemed to find delight in ridiculing him. The students also had it out for him. Tossing things into his cauldron, tripping him, hexing him. 

It was starting to get on his nerves. The amount of time his potion was ruined by someone who wasn't him. It was every. Single. Time. this time was no different. There he was stirring in some juniper leaves when suddenly he’s shoved into his cauldron. He’s lucky his hands and robes missed the fire, or else he would have been burned terribly. 

The person who shoved him snickered, but he paid them no mind. Harry didn't let his guard down, even as he added the crushed claws to the potion. His partner, Milicent Bulstrode, was cutting and chopping the last ingredient while he stirred when something plopped into the simmering pot. 

Harry had just enough time to grab Bulstrode by the robes and drag them both out of the way when it exploded. Snape turned on them like a hungry hawk, swooping towards them. 

“Potter!” he spat,” what. did. you. do?” 

Harry huffed and didn't respond. Bulstrode was staring at him in shock with the rest of the class. 

“Well, potter?” Snape asked, his lips curled angrily. 

Harry held in an angry retort, knowing it wouldn't help. "Nothing, professor,” Harry replied. 

“Nothing? Nothing ? Then why did your potion explode?” snape asked again. 

Harry shrugged, staring hard at the wall over Snape's shoulder. 

“If you won't speak and explain, then you will fail today as well. Clean up and get out of my class potter.” snape commands. 

***

After potions class, Harry goes to his scheduled check-up with Madam Pomfrey. As he walks, the ghost who showed him the way to the kitchen follows him. They know he can't talk to them without someone noticing, so they keep up a steady stream of conversation all by themselves. 

“ Nothing to worry about, Madam Pomfrey can't share information about you unless you tell her you can. Your files will be sealed and no one, not even the headmaster can see them without your verbal and written permission,” they tell him. 

Harry smiled slightly at that; he was a bit worried that one of her spells could tell something was off about him. A couple more minutes and they arrived at the medical hall. His ghost floated through the door, and he followed after, only having to open the door to get inside. 

“Madam Pomfrey?” he questions the air quietly. 

“Oh! Mister Potter, right on time.” the matron says, appearing out of seemingly thin air.” have a seat on one of the beds and we’ll start the checkup.” 

Harry sits, his hands placed placidly in his lap. Madam Pomfrey moves to stand in front of him, her wand in her hand. 

“Now, I’ll be casting three diagnostic charms on you. You might feel a little bit of a tingle, but nothing else. Are you ready?” she tells him. 

“Yes,” he responds, swinging his feet slightly. His ghost hovers behind him, making his back feel warm. 

“ Capitis.” she casts, and a small piece of paper falls into her hand. “Alright, let's see here. Hmm.” 

“Is it bad?” he asks. 

She waves her hand,” No, no. It's not bad, but you will need to update your glasses prescription soon. Nothing to worry about with this. Diagnosis corporis. ” a longer scroll falls into her hand. 

“Now, this is a bit more concerning. Your body temperature is lower than I’d like, and it seems you are a bit anemic. These can both be fixed with a potion. Now, what does concern me, is that you have a sprained ankle, and it is untreated.” Madam Pomfrey says,” inscius.”  

Harry blinks down at his ankle, the one he twisted when he was shoved into a suit of armor. “Thank you.” 

She smiles at him,” No problem. De intus.” no paper appears after that spell. “It seems everything is in order, Mister Potter. Let me grab the potions you’ll need to take, then you may go.” 

“Of course, Madam Pomfrey.” he agrees. The matron walks away. 

“ That wasn't so bad! Your lower body temperature is because of what you are. I have no idea why you are lacking blood, however.” his ghost replies. 

Harry shrugs,” I don't know either.” 

The matron comes back with two potions in her hand. Harry doesn't waste time and knocks them back. One of them tastes absolutely horrid, like rotten meat and spoiled milk mixed. The other tastes like artificial cherries. He’s not sure which one is worse. 

With the visit over, he’s free to go to lunch. 

***

After lunch, they have their first flying lesson. All of his yearmates are there together, which he thinks is stupid. Already the Gryffindors and Slytherins are eyeing each other. The Ravenclaws were also staring disparagingly at the Gryffindors. The Hufflepuff seemed content with everyone around. 

Harry would like to ask what the professors were thinking in allowing all four houses to be in the same class together. The same class that teaches beginners to fly. It was terribly stupid of them. 

Madam Hooch had them all lined up with brooms. It was already off to such a great start. Harry didn't even try to get his broom off the ground. He wanted nothing to do with flying. There was just something about it that made him uneasy. 

Some instinct of his just didn't want to let him in the air. He wasn't afraid of it, not really. There wasn't a lot he did fear. Trouble started when Longbottom mounted his broom. Said broom jerked widely and Longbottom was off like a shot. 

Madam Hooch gasped with the rest of the class and ordered him to come down. Obviously, Longbottom couldn't, he seemed to have no control over his broom. One of the Hufflepuff’s tried to fly up to save him, but the professor stopped her. 

Harry cringed with the rest of the class when he fell. The resounding snap of his bones was enough to make anyone disgusted. Malfoy laughed but didn't react. 

“Oh, that's definitely broken.” Madam Hooch says, dragging Longbottom to his feet.” do not fly until I'm back. Stay off your brooms or you’ll be in detention until after Christmas!” 

Then she leaves. Harry resists the urge to face-palm and turns his back on them. Instead, he watches Zabini. The curly-headed boy was having what seemed like an argument with Greengrass. 

He was frowning, shaking his head, and just generally disapproving of whatever she was saying. Davis stood beside Greengrass, her eyes worried. Nott was not beside them, instead, he was with Malfoy. 

Malfoy who seemed to never listen. Malfoy was taunting Weasley and one of his friends. Calling the two boy’s names. Harry sighed but didn't say anything. However, he did draw his wand and subtly cast two spells to untie his shoelaces and then retie them together. 

Before anyone could react, Malfoy was in the air. The two Gryffindors followed after him. Harry sighed heavily and looked towards the sky in exasperation. 

“Get down here! You’ll get in trouble!” a Gryffindor girl with huge curly hair yelled up at them. 

Harry wasn't sure of her name, but it might've been Granger. 

“Oh, shut up!” Parkinson snapped back,” No one wants to hear from a mmm!” 

Before Parkison could finish, her mouth disappeared. Harry, who had felt the heat of the spell, sent Nott a glance. He caught it and shrugged. 

Parkison stomped her feet and waved her hands around frantically. Then Weasley and his friend were landing on the ground. Malfoy followed but landed far less smoothly. His hair was windblown and his cheeks red. 

He was clutching his stomach like he was in pain. 

“Just what…is going on here?” Snape’s voice asked, sounding dangerous. A cacophony of voices responded. “Silence! Draco, Weasley, and Finnegan, with me. The rest of you go to your next class.” 

***

“No, really!” Longbottom insisted.” aconite is used in far more potions than you’d think! Its most recent use is of course the wolfsbane potion and the wide-eyed potion. But it's also used in the gloom smile, twilight, and the humin potions.” 

“Really? Isn't aconite poisonous for humans to consume?” Harry asks. 

Longbottom nods,” It is, but the other ingredients usually cancel it out or make it inert. Though in the wolfsbane and twilight potion, they aren't taken by humans.” 

“That's brilliant Longbottom.” Harry smiles. 

“It really is, gran, says that if I get good grades on this year's exam, I'll get to start growing some things in our greenhouse.” the boy says enthusiastically.

“You’d better study hard then,” he tells him. 

“I will,” Longbottom replies. 

Harry had no doubt the boy would do well, especially with the offer of taking over one of the greenhouses. Longbottom knew almost everything about plants. Harry knew the only reason his genius wasn't recognized in potions was because Snape was out to get him as well. 

Hopefully, Longbottom gains some confidence, especially in his abilities. He deserved some recognition, beyond how everyone saw him at the moment. Longbottom was kind, loyal, and a genius at herbology. 

***

The Slytherin common room was quiet that evening. Most of the older students had retreated to their dorms to get an early night. So, the common room only really held the third, second, and first years. 

Harry was one of them, sitting in his chair by the lake. It was a bit chilly, but he didn't mind. Especially not when he got to see one of the merpeople swimming by. It was peaceful, the atmosphere of the room calm. 

Of course, just when Harry was slowly letting himself relax, it changed. Pansy Parkinson marched right up to him with her wand in her hand. Harry tried to ignore her, but she made it hard. 

“You cursed me.” she declared,” you should apologize for it, filthy half-breed.” 

He sighed, glancing up at her with a bored look.” I won't apologize. Watch your mouth and you won't get cursed.” 

Someone gasped at his words. 

“How dare you!” she sneered at him,” how dare you speak to your better this way! defodio!”  

Harry was up and out of his chair before she could even speak the curse. His wand was in his hand, and he was casting a shield not even a second later. 

“ Confrigo!” she hissed again, seemingly not caring about the fire she was setting. 

“ ire caecum,” he mutters, the pale purple curse hits Parkison right in the face. “ Ebublio.”  

The shriek Parkison lets out is inaudible by the bubble she’s encased inside of. 

“Potter! What did you do to her?!” Malfoy yells, his wand drawn as he tries to reverse the spells cast. 

Harry doesn't answer, instead, he fixes the floor and his chair and sits back down. Malfoy finally manages to pop the bubble but seems to assume a simple finite incantum won't fix her other problem. 

The girl isn't in pain, she simply can't see. It's scary, but it won't hurt her. A third year is the one to cast the reverse spell, dragging both of them away from him. 

“Why didn't you tell her it was me who cursed her?” Nott’s soft voice asks. 

“She wouldn't have believed me either way. It didn't matter. Though, thank you for having my back, unneeded as it was.” Harry says. 

He had noticed the boy, though it seemed no one else had. 

Nott didn't respond and walked away. Harry smirked. Harry is too busy to notice how Zabini had watched the whole thing and seemed to be coming to decisions. 

***

Harry was looking forward to going to sleep, he had plans to tuck himself into bed and not get out until he had to. Which given tomorrow was a Sunday and they had no classes was not until very late. 

Of course, that couldn't happen, no, something else required his attention. There was a ghost staring at him. The bloody baron to be exact. Harry sighed. 

“Can I help you?” he murmured, making sure to keep his voice down. 

The ghost continued to stare at him. His face was solemn and grim. The silence continues for a long while. 

“Little master, won't you come with me?” he requests, and it was a request. Harry could feel it. 

If he needed to, he could command the ghost away. But he didn't need to, so he pulled himself up, grabbing his cloak as he did so. 

Heir preverall. It purrs. He drapes it over his shoulders and gestures for the bloody baron to lead him. 

The ghost led him on a winding spiraling journey far away from the populated parts of Hogwarts. Harry was led to the very bowels of the castle. So deep there were cobwebs on the portraits, the very silent portraits. The stone was dirty and cracked in some places. 

They arrived at a large ornate door with old iron handles. The baron floated on through and Harry reached for the door. The iron handle in his hand was cold to the touch and seemed to almost burn his hand. 

He was quick to tug the door open and release the handle. Harry glanced up and was met with a room full of ghosts. It seemed like every ghost in Hogwarts was there. He didn't freeze at their stares, more comfortable with the dead like this than ever with the living. 

Harry stepped further into the room, the large door shutting behind him with a thud. He could feel Hogwarts wards enveloping them, passing over each ghost and over him as well. 

“ Hello, little one.” his ghost greets, hovering closer. 

“Hello. May I ask why you have gathered here and brought me as well?” he inquires, gazing over the room. 

The bloody baron, the grey lady, the fat friar, and headless Nick all float forward. 

“We are all Hogwarts’ ghosts. We have been here for a while and guard and guide the children in our respective houses.” the fat friar says, his face still in a way it usually wasn't. 

Harry knows the ghosts act in certain ways, so they don't scare the alive people, but it was a little jarring to see it so suddenly. 

“And you, child, are of death’s bloodline. You are deaths' favored. You will likely live for a long while, especially when you come into your powers. We are deaths' in a way a living thing can never be. We traverse the veil and see beyond. We wish to coexist with you, little master, but we need your permission to exist around you.” the grey lady elaborates. 

Oh. he had forgotten about that, how the visible ghosts avoided him at all costs. He had assumed they were simply afraid of him. 

“Of course, you all may exist around me. One of you is my professor, though your class is boring. Exist as you wish, even the poltergeist. Your antics are amusing, so long as you harm no one physically.” Harry tells them. 

The ghosts seem relieved and show their thanks by bowing to him. It's a little freaky, seeing them bow, but he understands why they must. 

“ Thank you, master, ” they say altogether. 

Chapter Text

October was a time for endings. It was the time for the green grass to die. It was the time for the spirits. It was Harry’s time, and he could tell. He wasn't sure if anyone else could, but he definitely could. 

The death-touched creatures clung to him fiercely, whispering their joy. They could feel the veil slowly, so very slowly, thinning. It was making him stronger, the thinning of the veil. His spells were overpowered, cast with very little thought. 

He didn't even have to concentrate on most of them. With the new surge of power, came a surge of energy. He couldn't sit still, some much energy contained in his small body. It didn't help that the creatures were urging him to act on his instincts and just be himself for the whole of the month. 

It was difficult and got him in a lot of trouble. His new energy made it difficult to focus, it made it harder to keep himself contained. He felt like an exploding star, energy and power pouring through his veins and bursting at his skin. 

He had so much power he was trembling with it. Harry grew desperate and decided the only way to deal with it was to use it. The creatures encouraged his use of his new power, begging him to cast spells and follow his instincts. 

Usually, the month of October wasn't so bad, but there was something about Hogwarts that had him overwhelmed with it. So, Harry found an empty, unused room, and destroyed it. He cast all sorts of spells, dancing with the magic and entertaining his unseen observers. 

He did feel a bit bad, especially with the way he broke the castle stone, but the castle always repaired the room for him. 

“What is wrong with you?” a snide voice asked, causing him to look up at the Potions Master. 

“Sir?” he questioned softly. 

“You are shaking the bloody table.” Snape said,” Control yourself before you cause an accident.” 

“Of course, sir. Sorry sir,” he whispered back obediently. 

Though there really wasn't anything he could do about it, he needed to move, or he felt like he’d explode with it. It was unusual for him since he was a creature of stillness. One of the reasons so many people found him unnerving. 

His potion's partner snorted and handed him the chopped-up leeches. He sucked in a bracing breath and started to add them. At least this potion wasn't volatile, it was the blood drain potion, one meant to protect someone from vampires. 

That had Harry’s thoughts working once more. He had never met a vampire, but they were considered creatures touched by death. Creatures that were avoiding death. He wasn't sure if that was true. Creatures that avoided death felt weird. 

Vampires were said to be immortal, but immortality was such a broad concept. They were cold to the touch, or so the books said. They drank the blood of muggles and wixen to sustain themselves. They could be killed. 

“Potter,” Bulstrode began, interrupting his thoughts.” Malfoy wanted to know if your family celebrates the holidays like muggles do.” 

He raises an eyebrow, darting a glance towards Malfoy where he worked with Parkison.” does he? Well, that depends, does Malfoy even know how muggles celebrate?” 

Bulstrode shrugged,” how should I know?” she grumbled,” just answer the question.” 

He considered her words, usually he stayed in his room during Halloween, or Samhain as some purebloods called it. It was just one of the festivals. So many people and creatures celebrated the end of the harvest season. They all celebrated it in different ways, but mostly in similar ways. 

Harry usually celebrated it by burying leftover food and candy and feeding the crows with his sister. 

“I suppose my family does celebrate the muggle way. Charlus and Rosemary dress up and go trick or treating. Even I sometimes dress up.” he answers. Bulstrode nods once and hands him the crushed griffin claws. 

He dumps the powder in slowly. He wonders if the Slytherins would all celebrate the same way. Maybe they’d build a bond fire and dance around it like true witches. He almost laughed at the notion but didn't want to catch any more attention. 

He wonders if his father ever celebrated with his parents, the way purebloods do. 

***

“ Harry Potter,” a soft voice called as he was walking away from the library. He paused and caught sight of the grey lady, or Helena Ravenclaw.

“ Yes?” he called back softly, staying in place as the physical ghost drifted towards him. 

“ I must speak with you about something I have seen,” she said. 

He nodded,” Not  here, though. Will you take me somewhere private to discuss what you have seen?”  

She nodded back,” Follow  me, Harry Potter. “ 

He followed her down a hall and into one of the unused rooms near the library. The castle was full of unused rooms. The ghost floated in the middle of the room, not speaking. Harry moved further in, locking the door behind him. 

It wouldn't do for someone to interrupt them. 

“ Will you tell me now?” he asks, it wasn't an order. 

She nods,” The defense professor. Something is off about him, I'm sure one such as yourself has noticed.” he nods in agreement. 

“ I was observing him like I was asked. Just a precaution we do with every defense professor. It is the duty of the Hogwarts ghosts to help protect the children and staff, you understand. ” she continues,” he was talking to himself, not as odd as one expects, lots of people talk to themselves. It was only that he spoke to himself as if he was addressing a lord or master as if he was an old-time servant or slave.”  

Harry frowns,” could you sense anyone else? Another spirit, or dead thing nearby? Maybe he was speaking with the baron.”  

She shakes her head,” he would have found me if he was there. There is no need for two of us to be observing the same professor. No, it wasn't another Hogwarts ghost. Or another ghost in general, being as they have all been registered by us. It was something dead, that I can be certain of. But it was like it was attached to him. Not full possession, however.” 

Harry considers her words, not knowing what to say.” can I ask you all to keep a closer eye on him without putting yourselves or others in danger?”  

The ghost makes an offended face,” Of course you can. We will obey your word, Harry Potter. Your word is law, so long as death holds the claim of you. I will tell the others, we will keep a closer watch. I will also ask some of the other ghosts if they have any idea about what could be wrong with him.”  

He nods his head in a conceding bow,” Thank you, lady Ravenclaw. Please tell me if something changes.”  

She smirks, the first Non solemn expression he had seen from her.” it will be a pleasure, to have a task. We ghosts like remaining unseen, it lets us act how we are naturally without scaring the children.”  

Then she leaves. Harry stays in the room, considering her words. He wished he had some kind of guide, to learn from. It would have made everything so much easier. 

***

The night Blaise arrived at Hogwarts, he could feel the change in the air. The way the world seemed to take a breath and hold it. Everything paused when Harry Potter, the heir to the most ancient and most noble house of Potter, walked up to get sorted. 

The boy was different, Blaise could tell. His eyes were the most outstanding, an unnatural green that seemed to glow. They flashed sometimes, he had seen them do so. Something about the boy set him off, made his instincts go quiet, and made him want to watch. 

The same night, after Potter was sorted into Slytherin with him, he wrote to his mother. Theo had seen it too, when asked. He could tell and said something about dark power pouring off the boy in waves. A Nott could always tell those types of things. 

His mother had written back as soon as she could, advising him to be careful, to observe the boy, but to keep peaceful towards him. It wouldn't do to have something so dangerous as their enemy. 

So, he did, he watched as Potter watched others. He watched as Potter effortlessly hid himself. He watched as the boy acted strangely and others picked up on it. And he watched as Potter defended Longbottom. 

The Parkison’s child in their year was an idiot, or at least pretended to be. Picking a fight with Potter and so easily being defeated. He had already known Malfoy and his vassals were stupid, this had simply made it all the clearer. 

Daphne advised that they keep clear of the conflict, her father was the leader of the neutral families, so they followed. Though Theo could have been one of the dark family leaders, Nott’s were never linear. Theodore’s father didn't have any say in his political situation, though his grandfather could have told him to befriend the Malfoy heir, he hadn't. 

It all came to a head that October, potter stalked around like a predator while everyone else scattered like prey. He was especially unnerving, jittery like he was a flightless bird. Restlessness lined his eyes as he constantly moved. 

Blaise wasn't sure why, exactly, but he was sure it had something to do with death. It led him to speculation. Daphne proposed that he was an unwoken necromancer, maybe through his grandmother’s line. 

Theo had scoffed and said he was at least a half-woken necromancer and at worst an already fully-woken necromancer with a penchant for seeing into the veil. This led to an argument that he tuned out, the two were always disagreeing about something. 

Blaise considered all the things he knew about Potter, which weren't a lot. He was a half-blood. He had almost died once. He had two siblings and a muggle-born mother. He was still, unnaturally so, unless it was October. He was likely some kind of creature that dealt in death. 

His grandmother was from India. The potter likely had some hidden relatives, maybe he was related to the infamous Preverall line. Harry’s mother could have been from a squib line or two. However, that didn't explain why he was so different from his siblings. 

Sure, Rosemary Potter was quiet and studious with a penchant for ignoring everything but her book, but she wasn't the same type of quiet as her brother. Don't even get him started on Charlus Potter. The second oldest Potter boy was nothing like his brother. He was loud and brash, seemingly an exact copy of his father's personality. 

It was odd, how different the three siblings were. Though he had never had a conversation with any of the potters, this was all based on rumors and observation. The only one who had spoken directly to Potter about something was Theo and he hadn't acted weirdly about it. 

Blaise huffed,” I think I’ll approach him after Yule.” 

Daphne and Theo looked over at him. “Does that mean you are thinking of befriending him?” Daphne asked, her icy blue eyes piercing him. 

He was unaffected, of course, “yes. Which means you’ll both have to play nice.” 

“Fuck off,” Theo snaps.” I’ll act however I want. My attitude isn't going to scare him off. And neither will either of yours.” 

They stared at Theo, “what do you know?” Daphne asked.

He shrugged,” Nothing for certain. Just vague lines.” 

Blaise sighs, turning his attention away as Daphne makes a snide retort. His eyes find Potter, as they always seem to do. 

***

Harry……does wake up on October thirty-first, of that he’s certain. However, everything seems to be different. He doesn't know what has changed, but something definitely has. He spends the day in some kind of haze. 

It's an odd feeling, his vision is a little blurry around the edges. His hands don't tremble, and he isn't in pain. He’s not scared or tired, but something is wrong with him. He had never felt or acted any differently on Halloween before. 

Though he was magically maturing enough to have a wand. He was surrounded by so much pure, unused magic. So many things were different and better for him. 

“Mister Potter, please transform the block into a feather.” Professor McGonagall tells him, startling from his thoughts. 

He grabs for his wand, and with a flick, he utters,” Plumis .”

The block shudders, then changes. “Very good Mister Potter.” 

The rest of the day passes by in a blur, a whirling haze of color that he’s only vaguely aware of. The whole time he’s very aware of all the intruders in the castle. Things talk the halls like they were guardians of the fortress. He’s distracted, enchanted by something out of reach. 

Chapter Text

The air is cold against his skin, gently caressing it as he walks through the trees. He can feel the cool dirt and moss against his toes. Everything feels so different as he walks. A white snake slithers on the ground beside him. 

“Little one…..” a soft voice calls out, making something ache within his chest. 

He doesn't speed up though, something in his mind telling him to take his time. The little white snake slithers closer, peering up at him with deep black eyes. It compels him, pausing him in his walk. 

A smile tugs at his mouth as he bends to reach it. The little snake climbs into his palm, easily settling on his skin. It feels right, something aching in him as the snake curls through his fingers. It fits perfectly in his hand. 

He doesn't linger on it. He continues walking. His feet carry him to a clearing with a lake. Unseen things float in the sky, just beyond his sight. It doesn't bother him. Near the lake's shore is a half-burnt tree. Resting inside that tree is an odd-looking book. Whisper’s beckon him towards it, and his heart pounds. 

A cold hand gently grasps his wrist, but Harry can't look away. “Not yet, little one, not yet.” 

Harry blinks awake suddenly. A long, fine bonded misty hand was tightly grasping his ankle. He blinks at the hand and sighs. He shakes his leg in the hopes of making it lose its grasp, it doesn't.  

He blinks again, seeing the sunlight filtering in from the part in his curtains. Harry didn't know how long he had been staring up into his canopy, but it was time to get up. The hand on his ankle releases him finally as he pulls his curtains open. 

No one else was awake, as they usually weren't when he got up in the morning. 

*** 

Hogwarts Library was a thing of wonder and Harry adored it. It was a cozy place, even when it was dusty and dark. Harry had spent as many hours as he could in the library, not even just for schoolwork either, but to just soak in the comfort he found there. 

It was probably a holdover from his time at home, where he hid away in the library. He found his comfort there, sometimes with Rose and Remus as well. Charles wouldn't be caught dead in a library, and neither would James. 

Harry was reluctant to admit that that was probably why he found so much comfort there. He didn't want to be like his father. So obnoxious and loud, so judgmental and single-minded. His mother, at least, was a little more introspective. 

She had ideas that weren't dangerously outrageous and stupid, but she was still a bit ignorant. Harry didn't mind spending time with her, at least when she wasn't uncomfortable looking at him. Which seemed to be more common as he got older. 

It was weird, James and Lily couldn't seem to stand looking him in the eye, but Rose, their youngest child could. Harry had to stop thinking about it, or he would probably start feeling morose. 

He sighed, his family situation was complicated, but it was better than Sirius’s situation. At least James had never cast a spell at him. He had never raised a hand against him either. It could have been much worse. 

Harry tried to go back to reading, but his mind kept drawing him back to thinking about his parents. It was starting to get annoying. With another, heavier sigh, he shut his book and packed his things away. 

He knew it was unlikely that he’d get any more reading done. He figured he could go for a walk, or maybe explore a bit more of the castle. He’d find something to distract his mind. 

“.... the potter heir.” Harry stopped in his tracks at those words, something sad grasping at his heart. 

He blinked the sudden tears away from his eyes but couldn't seem to get himself to move away. 

“He’s creepy. And weird. I'm so glad he didn't sort into our house. He’s right where he belongs, with the other slimy snakes.” another voice responded. 

“Don't be mean Ernie, so what if he’s a little odd? He hasn't done anything to anyone.” someone else defended. 

“Yeah, but he doesn't talk to anyone. He isolated himself, which makes him even more of a creep. He just sits around and watches everyone. With his odd eyes and blank face.” ‘Ernie’ says a hint of disdain in his words. 

Someone cleared their throat in front of him, causing him to look up. It was an older Hufflepuff, his expression was full of pity. Harry couldn't stand to look at him and finally walked away. He doesn't acknowledge the tears that threaten to fall. 

He’s not sure why he’s crying, he doesn't know them. Their opinion shouldn't matter to him. It's not like anyone had attempted to talk to him anyway. Harry reasons that he’s just sad, thinking about his family and hearing other kids talk badly about him would be anyone down. 

***

Harry was unsuccessful in making himself feel better. He took a walk around the lake and admired the sights, but he still felt sad. He had been outside for around an hour when he gave up and headed back inside. 

He had the idea to write to his sister as he was walking down the stairs towards the dungeons. With a heavy sigh at having to climb so many damn stairs once more, he turned around. As he walks, he can hear the faint laughter of something further down. 

It doesn't take as long as he had thought it would to get to the owlery. Hedwig swoops down to land on his arm with a small hoot. He scritches at her head and sends her back off so he can write the letter. 

Dear rosemary, 

A lot of interesting things have been happening lately. I'm not sure how to explain it all. My dreams have been more strange than usual. I still have not made any friends, but I am on civil terms with some. Sitting in the Slytherin common room is interesting, I like to observe the others. 

The youngest Weasley boy, Ronald, has been making a nuisance of himself. I suppose I will see you for Christmas, I hope everything has been alright. How is everyone? Has Charlus caused any more ruckus? 

With love, 

Harry potter

𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒾𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓅𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇

“Hedwig,” he calls, extending his arm for his owl. The birds on the other roosts shift nervously, eyeing him with suspicion. “Will you take this to Rosemary Potter?” 

His owl takes the letter in her beak and flies off. Harry doesn't linger in the owlery, instead, he makes the trek back down to the dungeons. 

***

As he walks away, eyes unseen by every living thing follow him. If the being could grin, they would. 

ḿ̶̺̒̔̂̍̅̅̈̿͂ą̴̬̺͖͎̬̻̞̋̎͛̓s̴̰͉̜͙͙̙̔̈̏͆̾͆̉́t̸̞̝̣͕͈͈͕̝̀̔́ę̵̢̫̬̘̬͎͓͑͒̏͜r̴̦͚̺̗͛͗͊͗̿̀̓ ̷̪͂̾̉̄͛̄̚ǫ̵̨̛̪͚̞̖͖̺̹̋̒͠f̷̙͊̏ ̷̨͕̻̯͔̬͆̈͊͌̅̄̈͘͠d̷̦͚̬̠̈́̄ͅẽ̸͕̙͉͛͋͊á̶͕̲̎̾̒̀̿̚t̸̺͛̒͐̂́͗̍̆̉̚ͅḥ̵͇̹̤̰̩̋͂͋̃̄͌̎͜

̶̧̼̱̩͇̫̳̗͑̿ř̸͙̜͋ē̸͇̱͔l̴̝͎̜̣͔̦̟͆͑̒̓̀̐̒í̵͔̫̮̥̙͎͉̫̗̤̔̂̆̀̄̂͊̚v̴̱̓̏̒̓͐͋e̴̔̆͋̄͑̆̈́͐ͅd̶̥͗̃͊ ̶̦̙̋̇̎̅̾̊͒͌͘͜͝b̶̖̬̙̹́̍͒͊̈́͘͘ǫ̷͎̫̦͎̦̠͖͕͠ỳ̶̪̦̪̩̭̄̓́

̸̨̱̲̓́͌͊́̉̇͑̓ț̵̢̓͌̐h̶̹̠͋͊͊͂́̀́͝͝e̴̟̞̰͋̈́̌͛̿̑̽̎͠͝ ̸̡̻̠͔͖̟̽͂͝ô̸͉̝͍̯̩̬̿̇̈̐́̌͒̈n̵̙̆͆̎͌͐̄e̴̯̙͗̽͌͌̂ ̵̦̫̳̲̭̮͍̫̿͌ͅw̶̢̨͍̞̝̞͖̖̺̋̐̈́̏h̷͎͋̾̔ö̴͕̞̗̹̝́̈͐ ̶̱̖̤̭͖̜͐̈́s̴͎̥͓͕͚͓͉͒͋̒ę̷̠̖̮̳̥̘͇̥̟̓͒̋̏̆ę̵͋͒͂͂'̸̭͈̣̊͊s̵͖̽̐̓̌͗̓

Massster………..your time draws nearer…………what will you become?  

***

Harry doesn't make it back to his common room. He barely makes it to the entrance of the dungeons, before he’s interrupted. What he’s interrupted by has his eyes glowing with anger. Theodore Nott, the quiet Slytherin boy who hangs around Zabini and Greengrass was on the ground. 

Surrounding him were three Gryffindors—Ronald Weasley and two older boys Harry couldn't recognize. Harry’s wand was in his hand before he could react, a spell leaving it as he stalked closer. 

The tallest boy went down like a sack of bricks, a simple petrifying hex. Weasley and the other boy turn, fear in their eyes before they see him. Then Weasley and the other one sneer at him. He doesn't give them a chance to speak, a knockback jinx sends the other boy flying. 

“P-potter-!?” Weasley stutters out as Harry turns vicious eyes on him. 

“You're very cowardly for a lion.” he condemns, his wand still trained on the redhead.” petrificus totalus.”  

Harry watches blankly as Weasley falls to the ground, and then he turns to Nott. The boy stares up at him with wide eyes. “ Finite incantum,” he murmurs, undoing the spells and keeping the other Slytherin in place. 

Nott scrambles to his feet as soon as they're released, eyeing Harry suspiciously. “Potter.” he acknowledges with a sharp nod. 

“Nott, you shouldn't wander around alone,” he says. 

Nott sneers and walks off. Harry watches him go silently. 

***

No matter how much he tosses and turns, sleep does not claim him. He’s restless, something prods at him and keeps him awake. An urging, a demand, something tugs at him, making Harry sit up in bed. 

He finally gives up on sleep. It was not coming and his shifting in bed was getting annoying. He felt caged in by his bed curtains, so he shoved them open. Everyone else was asleep, that much was obvious. 

The dark room didn't make him feel any better. Restlessness crowded his mind and before he knew it he was slipping his shoes on. He had just enough sense to grab his cloak. It gave a soft rumble as he slipped it over his shoulders and head. 

Harry was invisible to all, even death, as he was dragged through the halls of Hogwarts by some unseen force. It wasn't long before Harry was out on the land that surrounded the castle. More specifically, he was heading towards the forbidden forest. 

All he had with him was his wand and cloak, if something were to happen, he’d be a goner. No one even knew where he was. It was incredibly dangerous, yet he didn't stop as he broke through the trees. 

The compulsion finally released him, but only when he caught sight of something silver splashed on the ground. Harry couldn't help himself when he bent down to investigate it. What he found sent horror and disgust warring in his gut. 

Unicorn blood. 

Something had led him into this forest. Something had drawn him in. and something had been harming unicorns. Harry doesn't turn back, despite his instincts telling him to. He wants to find the injured unicorn, if only so he can help it. 

Something must be hunting it, as unicorns usually run in herds. Harry keeps close to the ground, following the blood trail that leads him deeper into the forest. His cloak hugs him tightly the deeper they go, likely sensing the hungry creatures inside. 

Harry’s careful about where he steps, he doesn't want to crack any sticks or touch the blood. His steps are as light as he can make them. His wand is clenched in a white-knuckled grip as he plods through the forest. 

A cry freezes him in place. The cry sounds very distinctly like a horse in distress, only with an undertone of something other. The cry sounds again, followed by a slithering noise that has Harry’s heart pounding in his chest. 

“ Help me! ” it seems to be saying, though it wasn't actually in word form. 

Another cry follows, quieter and resigned to its fate. Harry creeps closer, something within him urging him closer. He needs to see; he needs to know. What or who would be cruel enough to kill a unicorn? 

A tall, cloaked figure stands above the pure white form of the unicorn. Silver blood drips from several different slashes on its back and sides. One of its legs is bent at an odd angle. The picture is horrid, causing nausea to turn his stomach. 

Harry’s free hand comes up to clutch over his mouth. He’s sure if he wasn't petrified with fear he would whimper at the sight. The unicorn gives a last whinny and falls quiet. The figure crouches down to it, touching the cursed blood of the dead unicorn. 

He watches as the person drinks it. He doesn't hear a word from them, but the feeling of wrongness that permeates the man after he consumes the blood is strong. Harry could recognize the cursed soul from in his bed in the dungeons. 

Suddenly he knows he was called to witness such an atrocity, that as he is the heir to the Preverall house it is his duty. He must do something about this man. He must put him out of his misery, for only a miserable soul would drink unicorn blood from an unwilling unicorn. 

The figure leaves with more slithering and muttering, leaving Harry alone in the forest with a dead unicorn. Feeling bold, Harry tugs the hood of his cloak from his head. When nothing follows his reveal, he tugs it the rest of the way off. 

He bares himself to the forest that seems to be holding its breath. The stillness of it was unnatural, as it too had borne witness. Harry lays his cloak on the earth, and then his wand on top of his cloak. He straightens up and sucks in a breath because standing before him and the corpse of the unicorn is a herd of them. 

Alive and healthy, the herd watches him. They judge him but make no move to stop him. Harry crouches beside the dead unicorn and places his hands on its stained hide. He feels hands touch his back, urging him through the rites of death for such a pure being. 

His eyes fall close as he murmurs the words. He didn't know the words until the hands appeared on his back. His ancestors channel the knowledge through him as he puts the unicorn to rest. 

Harry doesn't know it, but he and the corpse start to glow. They don't stop until he finishes, by the time he opens his eyes, he’s alone in the forest once more. Feeling sick and tired, he grabs his wand and cloak and heads back to the castle. 

In the following days, the body of the unicorn will rot and return to the earth. It will not linger in this realm for long. The forest will reclaim it and make peace. The man will still be cursed. And Harry will still be forced to do something about him. 

Chapter Text

Harry didn't dwell on the annoying feeling he had long grown familiar with. Loneliness had been his companion for a long time, just like his ghosts. He didn't mind the long wall from the dungeons to whatever class he was going to. Sure, he didn't have anyone to walk with, but he was just fine like that. If he wanted a conversation, he could speak with the millions of things lurking in the corners and forgotten classrooms. 

“Did you see Avery's face?” a passing Ravenclaw says. A self-satisfied grin spread wide as they talked to their friend. 

Harry ignores her and keeps walking. As he passes through an arching doorway on his way to class, a loud clang drags his gaze up. Something thick, cold, and wet coats him. He freezes, his hands halfway raised to protect his face. 

Pale green slim covers him completely. The slim chocks him, the gross sticky feeling sending disgust through him. With a trembling hand, Harry grabs his wand to vanish it. 

“Look at the slimy little snaky now!” a voice coos. 

Harry glances up to face a tall Gryffindor boy. He’s easily recognized as one of the Weasley twins. Harry barely refrains from cursing the boy. Surely this was Weasley’s idea of a prank. The slim clings to him, even as he moves his arm to vanish it. 

The spell doesn't work. Neither does a finite . 

“Remove this from me.” Harry rasps out, nausea rising in his stomach as the slim continues to stay. 

Weasley just grins,” Now why would I do that?” 

“He must be stupid, forge.” another voice, probably the other twin, pipes up. 

Harry resists gagging and raises his wand in front of him to threaten Weasley. He just grins wider. 

“Are you going to hex me? Threaten me? How cute. Little firstie snake like you doesn't stand a chance.” the first twin says. 

Harry’s lips purse, the disgusting feeling of the slim distracting him from the two. Before Harry can speak, the twin behind him does. 

“ Tarantallegra!” he shouts. 

The spell connects with Harry's back and sends him into motion. He feels tears sting at his eyes, completely overwhelmed. The twin in front of him grins. 

“ Oscausi!” he casts, removing Harry’s mouth completely. 

Harry chokes on air at the removal of his mouth. A stinging pain alights on his back and the two boys vanish. The hallway is empty of people, not even a single ghost hovers nearby. Harry was completely alone. His chest tightened as he struggled to take in air. Panic swept through him like a tsunami, crashing inside his mind and leaving him with no helpful thoughts. All he could think of was the slim still clinging to him, the way his feet kept moving even as he stopped breathing. 

His mouth with still gone, but a whine still managed to escape from his throat. 

“ Oh, dear.” a voice suddenly said, though Harry could barely hear it.” you poor thing.”  

“ Don't worry, we’ll undo the spell so you can clean yourself up.” another voice spoke. 

“ Poreos phanus.” the two intoned together. Suddenly Harry had his mouth again. It didn't calm his panic, but it made it more manageable. He panted and grabbed his wand firmly. 

“ Finite incantum,” he whispered raggedly. 

Everything stopped. The dancing, the stinging, and the slim all vanished. Harry slumped back onto the cold stone. Two short creatures with large eyes peered down at him. The creatures had small horns sticking out of their heads.

 They looked like deer, only they were on two legs and had the body of a person. They also had leathery, bat-like wings on their backs. However, the wings were rather small. 

“ Alright now, deer?” one of them asks. 

Harry nods. 

“ Good. those pranksters seem to target you young snakes, a lot.” the other intoned. 

“They do. They're Weasleys and seem to have it out against Slytherins.” Harry answers. 

The two creatures nod,” We must be off, dearie. Do be safe in the halls of the ancient one.” then they vanish. 

The whole thing had happened so quickly, that Harry was still a little confused from it. It had seemed rushed to him, the whole thing. He continues to lie on the stone in the hallway until he can breathe easily once again. 

He had already decided to skip history of magic, so he was in no hurry. Once the bell that alerts people to the end of class rings, he climbs to his feet and heads to his next one. 

***

The stone was cold under his hand as he stalked through the ancient halls of Hogwarts. The primordial magic of the castle pulses slowly, gently, beneath his hand. A soft caress as he walks with the old ghost beside him. 

His ghost watches him with a wide grin, slightly too large for a normal human face. While that fact would have unsettled others, it comforted Harry. Humans seemed to find Harry unsettling as well. It was fitting to find companionship with other unsettling things. 

The magic of the castle prodded at his fingers, grabbing his attention firmly. With a soft humming noise, the castle directed his attention deeper. Harry lost sight of the weathered gray stone of the castle’s walls and was brought to a truly glorious sight. 

A large glowing golden stone stood in an empty room. Surrounding the stone was a myriad of swirling colors. Shades of purple, green, and blue sparked off against the stone anytime they came into contact. 

Red, orange, and brown spun lazily around the walls of the room the stone rested in. white and black drifted through the room and mixed with other colors at random. Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing. 

Hogwarts had dragged his mind to its wardroom. The gentle magic of Hogwarts tugged him closer to the stone, urging him to touch it. Harry hadn't even thought he could, since it was only his mind. 

He cautiously reaches his hand out and presses against the glowing stone. It's warm against his palm, sending out soft, adoring pulses in tandem with his heartbeat. 

“ Why are you showing me this?” he asked, not relaxing his voice came out as a hiss. 

Hogwarts didn't have a voice, but Harry had spoken to things that hadn't before. The castle pressed images into his mind. At first, they overwhelmed him, he trembled against the onslaught before Hogwarts seemed to understand he needed time between them. 

He got a soft wave of blue concern and silver apology, before the images came back, this time much slower. Harry watched as Dumbledore became headmaster from Armando Dippet. He watched as Dumbledore antagonized Slytherin's and ignored Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. 

Harry watched as Dumbledore allowed Gryffindor students to get away with harmful things. His apathy towards the other houses seemed to be a huge concern for Hogwarts, but that wasn't all the castle showed him. 

It showed him Professor Quirrel, yellowed with hate as the castle tried to show Harry just what it needed from him. Harry took a while to understand, but he finally got it when he saw Quirrel knock back a vile of rotting silver unicorn's blood. 

The castle softly ejects him from the wardroom with one parting image. This image is more fictional in that it has no real base. Hogwarts departs Harry with the knowledge that its wards are severely damaged. 

Harry stumbles back, away from the wall. His ghost catches him with a concerned glint in his eye. 

“ Alright? Hogwarts can be a bit overwhelming, mm?” he comments, letting Harry rest against him for a moment. 

Harry stands back up and catches his breath,” why did it show me? Why not someone else? Like an adult?” 

He shrugs, causing Harry to huff at him. Harry has much to contemplate after this, so he heads back to his dorm to sleep. 

***

The next morning Harry wanders into the great hall, only a little more tired than usual. Malfoy had been prattling on about something, but Harry had stopped listening after he had mentioned his father twice in the same sentence. 

Malfoy was a regular irritant, but Harry was just glad the boy didn't hover around him much. Sure, he liked to try to bully Harry, but Harry was allowed to retaliate in Hogwarts. Whereas at home, he hadn't been. 

Harry had magic at his disposal, and he was far scarier than Malfoy with his unsettling gaze. His thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of the post. The owls flew in, chirruping and hooting as they flew into the great hall. 

Hedwig fluttered down to land beside his plate. She stole some bacon while Harry took the letter from her leg. Harry tucked it into his robs to read later, knowing it was from Rose. He pets Hedwig while finishing his breakfast. Then, it was time for transfiguration. 

Professor McGonagall was a fair, stern witch. She was extremely skilled in transfiguration and didn't suffer from fools. She also held no prejudices against the houses. She didn't care that Harry was the first potter to sort Slytherin in one hundred years. 

That’s why Harry always tried his best in her class, even when he found he struggled with transfiguration. It usually took him four different tries, after class, to get the spell. He’s not sure why he struggles, but he does. 

His transfiguration passed fairly quickly, with minimal mocking from Malfoy surprisingly. The spell didn't seem to trouble a lot of people. It was a simple conjuring spell. Just some stupid butterflies, but he couldn't do it. 

Once his morning class was done, it was time for lunch. Harry skipped it, eager to hear from his sister. 

__

Dear Harry, 

Father has been in a terrible mood. I don't think it's even about your sorting. I think something happened at work, but he won't say. At least, not to me. Charlus has been horrible. He left slugs in my bed this morning. Then he borrowed Dad’s wand to curse my cup of tea to spit it on me. 

Mom’s been super busy, she’s barely at home. Charlus has been bothering the house elves to break the rules for him too. It's been horrible without you. I'm not sure if Father is over your sorting yet, I know you ask that a lot, so I thought I'd say.  Hopefully, he is. I miss you a lot. 

With lots of love, 

Rosemary Potter. 

___

Harry hums softly as he refolds his letter and tucks it back into his robes.

***

Harry didn't spend a lot of time in the Slytherin common room. It was a hostile environment, even when the older Slytherins didn't pay him much attention. He had no allies, no one to watch his back. Though Zabini and his companions seemed to sit near him anytime he was in the room. 

Slytherin's common room was large, with an upper level filled with bookshelves and study desks. The upper level overlooked the fireplace and the furniture that sat around near it. The bottom level was made for sitting around, maybe reading if one was inclined. 

The chairs closest to the fireplace were where the seventh-years usually sat. Like Savannah Orpington and Carmilla Yaxley. The prefect usually sat there as well. Harry, being an outcast and loner sat near the portrait hole. 

It was a corner spot; he could see anyone coming in or going out. Plus, he could see people before they approached. Near him was a set of couches with a table between them, that is where Zabini and his friends usually sat. 

Zabini had made it clear he was interested in Harry, but he was still cautious in his approach. Harry didn't understand all of his reluctance, but he was sure it had to do with their later years. The years when Slytherin politics came into play. 

“Potter,” Nott greeted him with a nod. 

Harry simply followed him with his eyes. He was curious about not. The mousy boy was clearly strong, both magically and politically. And yet he chose to follow Greengrass and Zabini around like Davis did with Greengrass. Davis only did it because she was a ward of house Greengrass, and it would be considered disgraceful to publicly go against the heir of the house. 

“That little mudblood better study hard, because Father said if I scored highest in the year on all my exams he’d get me a brand-new Nimbus broom.” Malfoy bragged, a little way away from Zabini and his group. 

He was still talking loud enough for Harry to be distracted. The boy was a braggart and seemed to be obsessed with talking about his father. every other word out of Malfoy's mouth was 'my father'.  It was annoying, but Malfoy was little more than an annoyance. none of the other Slytherins spoke about their parents like they were gods. it was a bit pathetic; how much Malfoy craved his father's attention and approval. 

“Really?” Parkinson asks, seemingly in disbelief.” that’d be so cool, Draco! Plus, that little mudblood upstart doesn't stand a chance.” 

Harry sighed softly, closing the book that he hadn't managed to read, and headed for the dorms. Zabini watched him go, an amused grin on his face. probably amused at Harry's lack of tolerance for Malfoy's idiocy. 

***

The letter that ruins Harry’s mood for the day arrives at breakfast. It turns the muffin in his mouth to ash and makes it hard for him to swallow. He hasn't even read it yet, but he’s already dreading it. 

He had written to Rosemary about going home for Christmas. Though with the way his last letter to his parents went unanswered, it was unlikely. Harry wasn't stupid enough to open it in the great hall, that was a death sentence. 

He’d have to wait until after his morning class. Speaking of that, he should finish eating if he wanted to make it to herbology with enough time to spare to pick a seat. Harry shoved the letter into his bag and quickly, but neatly, finished his muffin. 

Once that was finished, he left the table. He wasn't the first one to do so, but he definitely had enough time. Herbology class was in Greenhouse Six, which wasn't too far away, unlike Greenhouses One, Two, and Seven. which were scattered near the back of the castle and took forever to get to. 

Herbology class was easy, with Professor Sprout lecturing on the uses of chamomile in potions and teas. Chamomile had a calming effect, but it was toxic to most magical creatures, surprisingly enough. 

The creatures it wasn't toxic to, could fit on two hands. Mostly it was creatures like house elves, pixies, and other fae creatures. Hippogriffs, Thestrals, Griffins, and most horse-like creatures could also have it. Though unicorns didn't like it much. Pegasi couldn't have it, which was weird. 

Once herbology was over, Harry headed to the library. He didn't encounter many people on the way. The weather was surprisingly sunny, so everyone was absorbing the sunshine while they could. As soon as he got everything, he needed to start his homework, he settled down to pull out his sisters' letter. 

___

Dear harry, 

Father has said that it would be unwise for you to come home. Mom was terribly angry at him when he told me to write to you that you can't. They got into a screaming match and Dad stormed out. I think he went to Uncle Paddy’s house, cause uncle moony came here. 

Mom hadn't been talking much, when she was here that is, but she did say that father was probably right in you not coming home. I disagree with both of them. I tried to argue with them that it was unfair, but Mom just sent me to my room. 

Charlie didn't say anything, but he didn't look happy. I'm sorry you can't come home, Harry. I asked if you were still going to get presents, and they said they’d send them to you. Uncle Paddy didn't say anything about you not coming home, but there was a look in his eyes when he heard it. He looked kind of sad. 

Uncle Moony looked sad too, but he’s been looking sad a lot lately. I don't know why, but I think it has to do with Uncle Paddy’s parents. I hope you are well, brother. I'm sorry you can't come home. 

With lots and lots of love, 

Rosemary potter. 

____

There were no tears in his eyes despite the hurt that throbbed in his stomach. He had expected it, really. James Potter had never liked Slytherins. He probably never would. harry had committed the gravest sin possible when he allowed himself to be sorted into the house of supposed "evil". 

***

It hadn't been dark long when Harry retired to bed. His normal bed companion, a long spindly cat-like creature who always woke him up before the sun rose, was perched on top of his wardrobe. Harry gave it a wan smile as he opened the doors to grab his pajamas. 

The creature chirped at him in greeting as he changed. Neither of his roommates was in the room, so he didn't bother changing in the bathroom. Once changed he laid in bed and went to sleep. There, he dreamed. 

a lone owl hoots softly into the air, and the slide of leaves against the ground bounces along behind the owl's song. a haze has him blinking. mist wraps around his vision, fogging it annoyingly. Harry shook the fogginess from his head, it was rather distracting. There were two people in a clearing, and trees surrounded the area. Between the two lay the dead body of a hippogriff. He blinked and crept closer. 

Both of the people were cloaked in black; shadows covered their faces and made their identities hidden. One of them clutched a long scythe in their hand. The scythe was taller than both of them and seemed to be made of bone. The blade at the top was as black as the night sky. 

“It would seem the spell worked.” the scythe-carrying person croaked, their voice hoarse and raspy. 

The other person didn't answer and bent down to poke at the corpse. It gave a shuttered as soon as they made contain. A ghastly puff of air escaped its snout. Harry blinked as the person looked up. 

An air of disappointment surrounded them as they looked up. “It did.” 

A croaking, rasping laugh escapes the scythe wielder. “Do not sound so disappointed, little master. You worked hard on the preparation. 

The other huffed, “and yet it still wasn't enough to bring it back completely."

One skeletal hand gently placed itself on the still crouched figure's shoulder.” It is why we are out here, little one. This is for you to learn. We have all the time in the world for you to learn.” 

Chapter Text

Watching Harry leave on the train is sad, but she’s glad for him. He needs time away from their family. Though she mourns just a little for him. He’ll isolate himself from his peers, probably be picked on, and overall not have the true experience of Hogwarts. 

Not like their parent's experience, not like Charlie’s experience, and not like her own. Rosemary knows, in that distant sort of way that she knows a lot of other things, that Harry will struggle. He’ll go through things no child his age should, struggling and fighting for himself. 

She would like to say she saw herself right there with him, hovering at his side to help cover his back against enemies, but she knew she wouldn't. She’d get distracted by other things. She’d be denied by her parents, controlled, and converted easily. 

Rosemary doesn't see many good things about her brother. She doesn't see him finding friends, she doesn't see him living a happy life. She sees him getting caught up in trouble, bad luck, and misfortune hugging him close as he wanders the halls of Hogwarts. 

She sees her parents frown as he’s sorted into Slytherin. She sees Charlie’s outrage over having a Slytherin for a brother. She sees her Uncle Sirius’s wariness and caution. She sees her dad’s anger. 

Her view of Harry is obscured most of the time, leaving what she does see of him in a pale horrific light. Rosemary knows, with a distant horror, that Harry had always been different. She had felt the coldness of the air and had heard him speak when no one was around. His difference from the rest led to his oddness, his quiet reservation, and his distance from touch. 

She knew her brother was lonely, and tried to make up for it, just like their uncle Remus tried. Rosemary had mourned her brother's innocence and childhood from the day she started to see the future and past. She had mourned it all, knowing he would suffer and being able to do nothing to prevent it. 

Her brother’s story was a tragedy and there was nothing Rosemary could do about it. 

***

When the letter comes, Rosemary already knows what has been written on the paper. She knew her brother was a Slytherin. The green of his robes flashed in her mind every time his name was mentioned. His eyes, a lighter shade than his robes, flashed with an unnamed emotion. 

Rosemary watches James take the letter off Hedwig’s leg with shaking hands. Her trepidation was all-consuming as she watched him read it. The paper falls to the table as James stands angrily up from his chair. 

He doesn't speak, though his face is a storm. He marches to the fireplace, grabs a fistful of floo powder, and disappears into the flames. Rosemary frowns at the swirling flames before turning as her mom grabs the papers. 

“He’s not a Gryffindor?” Charlie asks, a pout forming on his lips. 

Their mom shakes her head,” we knew it was unlikely, Charlie. Your brother is just….a bit different.” 

Rosemary frowns harder. Even though her mom had known Harry would sort into the house of lions, she still seemed disappointed. 

James doesn't come back that night. He returns the next day, in the evening. He had gone to work, judging by his clothes. He must have stayed with her uncles. She doesn't look at him as he stumbles by. He seems exhausted, the anger drained out of him like sand. 

That night, Rosemary is tucked into bed by both of her parents. Neither of their smiles reaches their eyes. 

“Are you still upset?” she asks softly, sad green eyes peek at her from the corner of her vision. A bruise formed on her brother’s specter face. 

Her mom sighs,” Don't worry about it, Rosie.” 

Her father hadn't answered. He had smiled a grimace of a smile and kissed her forehead. Rosemary couldnt remember the last time either of her parents had kissed her brother's forehead. They leave her in the dark, a star nightlight casting shadows from her wardrobe and desk. 

She closes her eyes, and the vision of her brother, bruised cheeks, and sad teary eyes becomes clearer. He’s not in his school robes, he has a hoodie on, and he’s soaked from the rain she can hear pounding against the roof. 

Rosemary wanted to ask what had happened, but she was simply an observer. Her brother is unnoticed by the rest of the family. He stalks up the stairs, a despondent look on his face. Rosemary watches him go. 

***

“Would you like to know a secret, little thorn?” the creature asks. Its clawed hands picked up one of her own. They were so cold against her skin. So cold and so tight. 

Rosemary swallows, nerves and fear twisting in her stomach. This wasnt like one of her visions. She was interacting with something powerful. Something that could end her with a flick. “Yes,” she says, even as she feels bile crawl up her throat. 

The creature grins a sick thing that spreads over its face, far too wide to be human and natural. Then, Rosemary notices that the creature wears her brother’s skin. Green eyes, lacking in humanity, stare her down. “I will be the thing that kills Harry Potter.” 

***

It is far too easy to be swept up in life. Even for someone like her. Rosemary forgets about it sometimes, the fact that what she sees isn't make-believe. But then there are sometimes, sometimes when the future happens in stark reality around her, that she can't brush it off. 

Rosemary was young, too young by some standards, to know the truth of her visions. But she had always seen things, even when she was really little. She can remember the first time she predicted the future. She remembers Harry’s wide eyes, terrified that if their parents found out, they’d treat her like they do him. 

She can remember his hands shaking as he grabbed her smaller hands. How her brother had told her she had a gift, and that the gift would cause her some trouble. She hadn't understood at the time, a bit freaked out over her brother’s obvious terror. Her gift had only made her tired and showed her scary things. 

Harry had whispered to her, gently explaining that she was seeing the future. That seers weren't allowed to speak what they saw, not unless they were asked to by the unspeakables or ministry. That if she spoke a prophecy, the unspeakable would know and they’d come to document it. That despite some rumors, they wouldn't take her away. 

Rosemary had been too young to understand, but she understood now. Harry was a good brother. He had cared for her and helped her learn her gift. She had used to wonder if he had the sight too. If he could see what she saw. 

But then she started to get visions of him. And she knew, that what Harry had was something unexplainable. 

“It’s not that I don't love my son, Lily.” Dad hissed angrily. Rosemary leaned against the wall in the stairway. She couldnt see them, but she could hear them. “It's that I can't trust him! There’s something wrong with him. ” 

Her father’s voice had cracked, genuine fear unfurling like a flower. Rosemary frowned. There was nothing to be afraid of. Harry wouldn't hurt them. 

“James.” her mom had murmured. 

“I can't- I can't trust him, lily. I can't leave him alone in this house, because if I turn my back on him. I just know. That he’ll do something.” her dad rambled.” I can't take my eyes off of him. I can't look him in the eyes, there’s something wrong with him.” 

“I know, James. I know.  But he’s still our son. Our oldest son. The heir to the house, even. You said it yourself, that he’s likely to grow out of it. Maybe his time at Hogwarts will have tamed whatever beast haunts him.” her mom said, her voice cautious. 

“It won't. He’s. I don't know. But whatever’s wrong with him won't go away, ever.” James spoke back plainly. 

Rosemary frowned harder. It was obvious what was wrong with Harry. At least to her. Their house was settled on a small piece of land, the forest near their house didn't have enough magic to sustain the full property. It's why the wards were tied to their father’s blood. 

Her brother was starving. At Hogwarts, she imagined it was hidden more easily. The castle had an abundance of ambient magic, plus all the students there. Her brother was cautious when siphoning off of them, wary of taking too much. Especially with her and Charlie’s still developing cores. 

She had asked him about it once. When his body turned clammy and feverish. When the pain led to him hovering in the bathroom, nausea choking him. He had told her that there was something wrong with his magic. 

That it was too big for his body, his developing core to sustain it. He had said that he didn't need much to keep from hurting his core, but that taking more magic from their cores would harm them, or get him noticed by their parents. 

The fact that both of her parents could tell that he was hungry, starved even, and they felt that he was dangerous, and yet they still hadn't taken him to the doctor’s or St. Mungo’s. They were just letting him suffer. 

Her core was larger, her small reserves kept getting eaten up by her visions. Harry had helped with that. Rosemary wondered if they ever thought to look past something that unsettled them. She could admit that her brother could be unsettling, especially when he was starving, but he’d never hurt them. 

***

“Rosie, come here please.” her mom calls. 

She goes, frowning as the crows in the garden fly off now that they don't have her attention. She wasnt as good with them as her brother, but they liked her well enough. 

“Mom? What?” she asks, finding her parents and Charlie sitting at the table. 

“Take a seat.” her dad says, motioning to the free seats beside Charlie. 

Rosemary takes a seat, her usual one near where Harry sits. 

Charlie fidgets in his seat, never really able to sit still for long moments. Her dad was the same way, though he had a bit more control over his movements. “What's going on?” Charlie asks, looking concerned. 

Her dad sighs, taking his glasses off to rub a hand down his face.” a break is coming up at Hogwarts.” 

“Yeah, Christmas.” Charlie cuts in before he can continue. 

The man smiles, with a bittersweet expression.” yeah.” 

Rosemary just knows what they’ll say. It isn't even part of her gift. It's all she can read on her parent's faces. 

“You won't let him come home?” she asks softly, tears prickling at her eyes.

Charlie’s head whips towards her, mouth gaping. “What?” he yelps. 

“Rosie.” Lily starts, but Rosemary cuts her off. 

“You won't let him come home, because you're scared of him! All 'cause he got sorted into Slytherin!” she shouts, slamming her hands against the wood of the table. she was suddenly angry, so very angry. 

Her parents would keep her brother away from her. couldn't they see how much Harry cared? Couldn't they see how much it would hurt him? She could already see, she could already hear it. When the letter came, the hurt would strike him right through the heart. But her brother wouldn't cry, no, Harry liked to be strong In public. He liked to show no emotion, but stoicism. He'd wait till he was alone, then the sobbing would come. Then the sadness and the understanding that his parents wouldn't let him come home. 

“Rose! Don't shout at us.” her mom scolds, but Rosemary doesn't hear her. 

She’s suddenly lost, lost to the creeping white and a daze of the future. 

Rosemary was suddenly beside a bed, the knowledge that it was her brother’s bed in the Slytherin dorms imparting on her already frazzled mind. She could hear him sobbing into his pillows. Despair leaked out of him like a sieve. 

She blinks and she’s back, staring into her mother’s angry face. Rosemary stands from her chair, tripping over the leg of the chair in her scramble to get away. 

“Rosemary Potter, get back here this instant!” her father shouts. She doesn't look back as she scrambles to her room. 

she couldnt even if she wanted to. tears leaking down her face in the moment of absolute desolating despair her brother would experience. 

***

The sudden stillness of the night has her finally removing her face from where she had buried it. Floating above her, was a woman—a woman without a face. Rosemary shivers as she stares up at the unnatural being in front of her. 

She feels exposed, the lack of protection for their home dawning on her as the not-mouth of the woman opens. 

“The protector is gone, who will keep your face from me?” she asks, a gaping maw of nothingness in place of her mouth. 

Rosemary shivers, just barely hearing her words. They were not to be heard by normal wixen, not even the creatures of blood should hear them. But Rosemary had the added protection of being a seer, holding her sanity into place with the protections of sight magic. 

She gasps as the woman’s hand comes to cup her face. “ Poor little sightless sibyl. What would you look like without these pretty, pretty eyes? I wonder if he-who-dies-a-thousand-times would still care for you then?”  

Rosemary squeezes her eyes shut, a pain blossoming beyond her eyes at the woman's words. soft white glows in her vision, a protection from her sight. it flashes brightly, prompting her to open her eyes. 

Nothing was around. No woman without her face. No woman with her face. Nothing. Just her bedroom, as it always was. 

***

Rosemary writes the letter with trembling hands, tears blocking her vision. She could still hear her mom’s shouting. Her parents were at each other’s throats. She had known they wouldn't let Harry come home, not for Christmas. Maybe not even for the summer break. 

She had seen her brother’s concerns and had known his fears. She startles as the magic of the house shakes as her father storms out. The floo flashes to life as he flees. She can feel her mother’s turmoil, her need to defend her son fighting her need for peace. 

Lily had never liked conflict, this rosemary knew for certain. In the next second, she hears the floo once more. The soft feeling of wind in the trees always follows her uncle Mooney around letting her know who came in. 

She frowns, scribbling more words on the parchment. She writes everything that has happened. The more arguments that her parents had the more Rosemary wished she could join her brother at Hogwarts. 

Rosemary finishes the letter, sealing it into an envelope. She sighs softly, leaning her desk to curl up on her bed. She’ll send it in the morning. 

***

“What are you?” Charlus asks, he’s much older than she remembered. He stares at their brother with so much fear. 

Harry smiles, something soft, gentle, and warm.” I am loved.” 

Rosemary wakes up, tears already sliding down her face. that hadn't been a vision. Just a simple dream, trying to fight for the perfect life. 

Chapter Text

For Harry, he can feel the change in the air quite strongly. He’s not quite sure why, but winter was close to him. Winter was the quietest season, the softest. It was the only way he could describe it. 

When the cold weather grew biting. Ice coated the ground, freezing everything in its path. Snow cloaked the world, blanketing everything in a soft layer of sound-muffling fluff. The cold brought a certain thoughtless quiet. 

The castle, so grand and full of life, was more subdued. Children were getting ready to go back to their families for the break. Only a few ever stayed. And those few were always far more quiet and subdued than any others. 

Harry liked winter, even if it brought more pain to think about than any other season. He liked the cold, it felt right. To let the iciness sink into his bones. He snuck out a few times to lay in the snow, eyes staring up into the sky. 

He liked it, the cold stinging his skin. He wasnt worried about getting sick. Something like winter could never make him sick. He was there, outside in the snow, at that moment. His breath barely made a mist in front of his mouth as he exhaled. 

Harry was very cold, but it was perfect. He blinked, a smile dragging across his face. He blinked again, feeling so very peaceful. The cold snow covered him, trying to suck him in. Harry wouldn't have minded being sucked away, wouldn't have minded becoming a hidden body amongst the mounds of white. 

It was ill-advised, even if the cold-biting winter could never actually take him away. 

***

The silence of the empty hallways was disrupted by the faint sound of muttering. Words barely audible in the silence of the castle. Harry froze, just before he reached where they were loudest. The ghost stopped beside him, his head tilted as he watched Harry closely. 

Quick as a snake, he peeked around the corner. Pacing in front of a door, was Professor Quirrel. The man was hard to see in the dark of the hallway, only one source of light hung near the ceiling. Harry’s heart started to race as the shadows stretched. 

He shoved a hand over his mouth as something with red eyes formed in place of the professor. The thing was tall, stretching up to the ceiling. Harry could have sworn it was looking right at him. The ghost at his side flickered, disappearing in a blink. 

A sound echoed down the hall, causing Harry to look back. The professor was still gone, in his place was the large shadow, shaped almost like a snake. The sound it made as it dragged itself along the stone floor was loud. Harry felt watched and hunted. 

He had never been truly afraid of the things only he could see, but this. This was a certain dread. It was unfamiliar, the red eyes making streaks of blood drip down the misty figure's face. Not that there was much to see. 

“ Something……is……..here……” the being croaked. 

Its voice was rough, non-human. Its words were a death sentence. 

Harry blinked quickly, the shadows receded, and the creatures dripped away. Professor Quirrel was still pacing in front of the door, still muttering under his breath. Now though, Harry had a clear sight of the professor’s features. 

He had to stop himself from gasping at the man’s face. Quirrel looked like a ghoul, dead or dying. His face was melting off, his cheeks sinking down his face. His nostrils split up in the middle. His jaw seemed to be hanging off, causing his mouth to gap open. 

His eyes were dripping black liquid down his cheeks. He looked horrible. He looked like he was rotting. The magic around him pulsed like a heart, black like a festering wound. The thing attached to him, the creature with red eyes, was leeching off of him. 

Harry wasnt sure how he had never noticed before. Had never seen just how close to death Quirrel was. Harry knew, in an abstract way, that Quirrel’s soul would never know peace. Would never get that rest that all souls craved after a long life. 

That didn't even make a dent in what the curse from the unicorn blood was doing to him. 

Quirrel was being consumed, devoured, mind, body, and soul. The curse from the blood he was drinking was taking its toll, but that was nothing compared to the parasitic being attached to him. Harry had no idea how he hadn't noticed it before. 

Maybe powerful glamorous? Maybe it was the unicorn blood distracting his mind. 

Harry chanced a glance around the corner, taking in the inky congealed magic that dripped off of Quirrel onto the floor. It lingered for a moment before sinking into the stone. It seemed like his face was dripping off. 

He had no idea how he hadn't noticed it before. With another glance saw Quirrel walking quickly towards the opposite end of the hall, a hurriedness to his steps. 

Harry frowned at his back, not expecting the man to whirl around and face him head-on. Harry stares into agony-filled eyes, stares into the eyes of a man dying. He runs, heart in his throat at the very real threat he can feel from the man. 

He gets back to the common room as quickly as he can. Harry decides he’s done exploring for the night. Instead, he hides under his blankets, tucking his face into his pillow and falling asleep. 

***

Harry was on a bench in the courtyard, halfway through his library book on beginner runes, when the fight broke out. The courtyard is filled with snow and some of the other students who had stayed behind. 

He’s only just learning the differences between the two rune sets when a fight breaks out. It’s not anything concerning, just two boys arguing loudly. Harry barely paid it any mind. That is until a shriek rang out in the courtyard. 

He glanced up at that, just in time too. A snowball had been sailing right for him. He was quick to dodge, letting the compacted snow hit the ground and getting away without being hit. The culprit was a third-year Hufflepuff, who was grinning as if they had just had the best idea ever. 

“Snowball fight!” the Hufflepuff shouts, lobbing another snowball at one of the others. 

The third year’s words send a ripple of excitement through the entire courtyard. War breaks out. Snow is flung around everywhere. No one in the courtyard is safe. Harry finds himself caught in the middle. 

Harry had been a part of a snowball fight before. It had been with his family, the other potters loved playing in the snow. His father had started it, launching snow at his mother. The shriek the woman had let out when the cold hit her had gathered all three of their children’s attention. 

It had been nice, launching snowballs around their yard, not a care in the world. He wanted to enjoy the moment, finding himself hiding his book under his cloak, and gathering a hand full of snow. He squashes it down and launches it at the closest person. 

It hits a fellow Slytherin in the back of the head. The older boy was obviously shocked that Harry threw a snowball at him, judging by his wide eyes. A swoop to his stomach makes him nervous, fearing that he has done something wrong. 

Instead, the older Slytherin boy grins and throws a snowball at him. Harry could recognize the older boy, one of Prefect Terrence Higgs's friends, Cassius Warrington. Harry grins back and launches another snowball. 

The courtyard is filled with laughter and a free air. It was then that two Gryffindor boys, the Weasley twins, brought out their spell. Snowballs reined free, like a torrent, they splashed all around. 

Nowhere was safe, Harry ducked and dodged, but he was still getting pelted. It didn't help that most of his distraction came from the professor who had entered the courtyard. Professor Quirrel was trying to make his way through the battleground. 

Harry watched him closely, and a snowball hit him square in the nose. He laughed, rolling in the snow as another hit him in the stomach. He got to watch as snowballs started to bounce off the teacher’s turban. 

It is hilarious and frightening in both ways. There was something dark and dangerous about the stuttering, meek, professor. Harry had seen it. And yet, there he was, crying out and scampering away, as snowballs pelted him. 

“Hey, kid.” a slightly familiar voice spoke up nearby. Harry blinked, looking over. “You're looking blue, potter. Where’s your cloak?” 

Cassius Warrington was frowning down at him in concern. “My cloaks protecting the book,” Harry answers softly, very surprised the older boy was speaking to him.

Warrington frowns deeper, looking very concerned.” here, potter. We don’t want you catching a chill.” 

Then, the older boy unwraps his scarf from around his neck and rewraps it around Harry. It is a long scarf, and very warm. Harry stares up at him with wide, surprised eyes. It’s nice, being cared for in such a way. It’s also very surprising. 

“Oh.” he murmurs,” thank you, Warrington.” 

The older boy smirks, though it is lopsided.” don’t mention it, kid. I’m the oldest Slytherin here, someone’s gotta look out for you.” 

Then he walks off as if he hadn't done something special for Harry. The scarf was a very special one. It was green and grey, the Slytherin house colors. It was faded like it was old and well-worn.  It was a gift, one that sent a pang through him. 

Harry buries his face in it, smiling brightly for once. He collected his snow-covered cloak and the book inside it and headed back into the castle. 

***

When Harry woke up on Christmas morning, he wasnt expecting the skeletal remains of a mouse to be lying beside his head. He blinked sleepily at it, wondering where it came from. With far too much curiosity he poked it. 

Its body shivered in place, but it didn't do much else. He frowned and sat up, poking it again. A light layer of blue, almost translucent mist was surrounding the mouse. He gathered it into his hand and flung his curtains open. 

Harry had never had this happen before. It reminded him of when his mother’s cat had started to leave dead animals on the porch for them. Or, maybe like when little trinkets and old metal objects would appear on his bedside table sometimes. 

He shrugged it off and opened his nightstand drawer. With care, he placed the mouse remains inside it. The mouse shivered once more, before falling still. He peered down at it before shrugging. 

Harry finally noticed the pile of presents sitting innocently on the bottom of his bed. There were nine packages wrapped on the bed. He reached for the first one, pausing as a cup of tea appeared on top of his nightstand. 

Following the tea was a small plate of chocolate-filled croissants. He grinned, muttering thanks to the house elves. He placed his present down and reached for his breakfast. He was quick to scarf it down so he could open his presents. 

The first one was from Rosemary, a beginner’s guide to arithmancy by Taylor Max. His parents had gotten him a fur-lined cloak and a pair of green leather gloves to stay warm in. his brother, probably under duress, had gotten him a fantasy book about elves. 

From his uncle Remus, he had gotten a pair of grey, dragon hide boots with a small heel and a theoretical spell creation book. From his uncle Sirius, he had gotten a silver bracelet with the Leo constellation and a book about ancient animals. 

The last package was from his head of house, but it wasnt addressed to him. Inside was a Slytherin-themed hat, scarf, and sweater. Harry grins and puts the sweater on. It was a little big, but not too bad. 

With his presents opened, he grabbed one of his new books( the one about arithmancy) and headed to the common room. Theodore nott was sitting near the fire, nose deep in a book with no cover. 

The other boy glanced up at him but didn't say anything. Harry sat nearby, enjoying the quiet common room. A teacup full of steaming tea popped up beside him on the table. Cassius Warrington and a few other older students were scattered around the room. 

It was one of the most peaceful times Harry had ever experienced. It was nice. 

***

Harry was wandering the castle halls once more, though this time he avoided anywhere where Quirrel might be. He didn't want to deal with the man again. He was alone on this walk, feet dragging him towards something. 

It was an odd, dream-like feeling. Tugging and tugging at him until he had given in. At least he had managed to avoid Quirrel’s haunts. Harry didn't know what possessed him to wander after his last encounter, but it was a strong impulse. 

He blinked dazed, as he stopped in front of a door. It opened for him easily. The room was mostly empty, with only an old, ornate mirror resting in the middle of the room. He was tugged again, approaching it as cautiously as he could. 

Harry was staring at himself, older and still far too green. His eyes were very attention-grabbing, with an equally green-eyed, black snake draped over his shoulders. Older Harry was grinning smugly, sharp snake-like canines on proud display. 

Surrounding him were faceless people, vague outlines. A glowing white-blue mouse was crouched near his foot. Harry frowned at his reflection, staring hard into his own eyes. He looked powerful. 

He looked happy. 

Harry steps back, feeling the impulse drain away. In its place was another impulse. It beckoned him like a siren. He blinked sleepily, feeling heavy. He just wanted to sit down and rest. He could drag his eyes away from himself. 

His reflection stopped smiling after a moment, and then the whole image changed. Harry blinked, startled at the abrupt change. His older self was sprawled on the ground, and something tall towered over him. 

He was shirtless, with dark red runes painted over his chest. His face wasnt actually Harry’s face, someone else’s entirely. It was an odd thing to look at, with a fuzzy white background and nothing but Harry on the ground. 

The thing towering over him reached for him, its hand was clawed and inky black. Blood dripped from the thing as it leaned over him. A bolt of warmth rushed through him as the image changed once more. 

Two men were embracing each other, neither of them looked even remotely like him. 

“Harry.” said a voice from behind him. 

He jolted awake, blinking wildly around himself. Standing behind him, frowning disapprovingly was Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster. 

“Headmaster?” he murmured in confusion, blinking at the mirror. 

Inside the mirror was something confusing. Crouched on the ground was a blue translucent mouse. Above the mouse was a black snake with glowing green eyes. Behind them both were two men, embracing each other lovingly. 

“What are you doing here, my boy?” the headmaster asked, though his tone was odd.” it’s a past curfew for everyone, Harry. You should be in bed.” 

Harry blinked some more, feeling far too drained to parse out his sentence.” I-” he paused, frowning.” I don't know.” 

A hand placed itself on his head,” Let’s go, my boy. This mirror is far too dangerous for you to be gazing at.” 

The old man tried to usher Harry out, but he kept stumbling. When he finally gains enough strength to amble to the Slytherin dorms, he finds himself alone in the hallways. No one around him, no headmaster, or ghosts. 

He swallowed and continued.