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Chapter Text

' Competition is always a good thing. It forces us to do our best. A monopoly renders people complacent and satisfied with mediocrity.'

-Nancy Pearcey

Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Power

Hadrian James 'Harry' Potter, the forgotten twin brother of Alexander Michael 'Alex' Potter, the world famous 'Boy-Who-Lived', was sent away from the wizarding world as a young boy. Thought to be a squib, incapable of casting magic, he was removed completely from the Wizarding World by his parents, who were concerned for his continued survival. While the Dark Lord may have been vanquished, even his most loyal supporters continued to live among them.

Entrusted to the care of his only other living blood relatives, the Dursley Family of Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey; he grew up treated with nothing but a mixture of hatred at his presence, and apathy for his accomplishments, right up until the day he receives a letter from a place called Hogwarts.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It is there that our story truly begins, as an eleven-year-old boy realises that he is, in fact, not strange, not a 'freak', nor is he even an orphan; but he is a wizard, and a potentially powerful one at that.

The Potters are simply desperate to now bring their broken family back together, but abandoned and mistreated children don't suddenly become well-adjusted members of society once they are able to move away from their abusers, nor are they particularly prone to bouts of forgiveness.

Harry soon learns though, that in the Magical World, and especially at Hogwarts, things are very really what they seem.

Book One

Harry Potter & the Whispers of Desire

When a trip the zoo ends with him having a rather enlightening conversation with a snake, Hadrian Potter realises that the Dursleys haven't been truthful with him, nor in fact, have they been wrong.

He is different.

He is a wizard.

His brother Alexander - Alex to his friends - is the world-famous 'Boy-Who-Lived', the sole survivor of the Killing Curse, which rebounded off of him ten years ago. An act that won a war and decided both boys' future.

For the first time since then, both brothers will be together, attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, enjoying their shared heritage of magic, as they come to grips with house rivalries, lessons, quidditch and two parents desperate to put their family back together.

All the while, something sinister is hiding within the castle, and it has its eyes on both boys; one, a world-renowned hero, known the world-over, and the other, a prodigy in the magical arts.

Darkness lurks around the corner.

Will they be ready when it strikes?

Chapter One: A Chance Encounter (Prologue)

Chapter Two: The Meeting

Chapter Three: The Wandmaker

Chapter Four: Preparations

Chapter Five: A Tale of Two Brothers

Chapter Six: Coming Home

Chapter Seven: Action, Reaction

Chapter Eight: The Serpents' Den

Chapter Nine: The First Week

Chapter Ten: Fight and Flight

Chapter Eleven: Detention in the Dungeon

Chapter Twelve: All Hallows' Eve

Chapter Thirteen: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin

Chapter Fourteen: A Lack of Understanding

Chapter Fifteen: Wizard's First Christmas

Chapter Sixteen: The Whispers of Desire

Chapter Seventeen: Tea Time with Professor Flitwick

Chapter Eighteen: The Duelling Tournament (Part 1)

Chapter Nineteen: The Duelling Tournament (Part 2)

Chapter Twenty: Hagrid's Dragon

Chapter Twenty-One: Unto the Breach

Chapter Twenty-Two: Learn the Hard Way

Chapter Twenty-Three: The End of the Beginning

Part Twenty-Four: A Dragon's Tale (Epilogue to Book One)

Part Twenty-Five: Return of the Snake (Prologue to Book Two)

Chapter Text

' Knowledge is Power'

-Sir Francis Bacon

Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Power

Part One

Harry Potter & the Whispers of Desire

Chapter One: A Chance Encounter (Prologue)

From the outside, everything appeared to be completely normal at Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

Exactly the same as each of the other houses located on Privet Drive, the small front lawn was kept in its immaculate, deep green condition, trimmed to a height that was a single inch above that of the pavement. The silver, four door family car gleamed from its spot on the driveway, polished to perfection as it was. The front garden's hedges were trimmed, so that they levelled off exactly six inches above the garden wall and the front face of the house was kept clean and tidy, with not a speck of dirt anywhere in sight.

It all looked picture perfect

There was absolutely nothing strange or abnormal to be found along the street.

Absolutely nothing at all.

The Dursley Family of Number Four, Privet Drive, prided themselves on being the very definition of what a normal family should be. There was absolutely nothing strange or abnormal about them, simply because the Dursley Family were the type of people who just wouldn't tolerate such nonsense.

Vernon Dursley, who was the man of the house, was a Junior Executive at a company called Grunnings; they were a medium-sized firm, which specialised in the sale of drills.

Petunia Dursley (neé Evans), was the family's staunch housewife, who spent her days cleaning and polishing her home to perfection, ensuring that it was as spotless as she thought it should be, and making sure that it stayed that way. Once her work was done for the day, she could be found using her very thin neck, and her long, horse-like face to spy on her next-door neighbours, before gossiping over what she had seen with her husband over their evening meal.

Dudley Dursley, who was eleven years old, was the Dursley's only son, who spent his free time harassing the other boys in the neighbourhood, bullying his way into getting whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it, and in Mister and Missus Dursley's opinion, there was no finer boy anywhere.

The interior of their home was as spotless as its exterior, with its walls decorated with pictures of their only son, still images taken from his school plays, his end of year assemblies, and sports days littered the smaller frames. The yearly school photographs and family pictures of the three of them were housed in larger frames, given prominent positions alongside the wall clock. They gave off the air of a typical suburban family and from the images on the wall, a visitor to the house would never even guess that there was a fourth person living in the house.

The Dursley's nephew, Harry, also lived in their house.

Unlike his rather brutish cousin, if one were to ask any of the other adults that lived in the area about Harry Potter, then it was almost a certainty that they would tell you that he was a well-mannered, polite and all-round likeable boy, if it little shy and introverted.

Harry Potter attended the very same primary school as his cousin, and had just finished his final year, despite his solitary nature, he was incredibly intelligent and finished at the top of his class; his SAT scores were way in a league ahead of the rest of his peers and he was considered a 'delight' to have in the classroom. All of his teachers had been very complimentary of him to his Aunt and Uncle during their annual parent-teacher conferences, all of them referring to him as one of the brightest students they had ever encountered, who showed up on time, studied hard and picked up the class material easily, however the same could not be said for his elder cousin, who they recommended attended extra classes over the Summer, in order to be properly prepared for his entry into high school.

The two adult Dursleys nodded seriously throughout the conferences, looking every inch the concerned parents they were (for their son), before they all returned home.

The bruise across his cheek had somehow faded away by the morning bell.

Harry had learnt long ago that it truly didn't matter what he did in the house; he had long since learnt the hard way that the Dursleys were going to hate and punish him what he did, regardless of whether it was good or bad.

One of the earliest memories he could remember was bringing home one of his first school tests with a perfect score circled in the top corner. He could remember being excited to show his Aunt Petunia, so that she could feel proud of him and display it on the fridge, alongside his cousin's latest one which he had barely passed.

He could still remember the feeling of the soapy frying pan connecting with the side of his head; still feel the metallic frame of his glasses breaking against his temple, two shards of the metal digging into his skin, drawing the tiniest amount of blood. He could still hear the yelling, about how it was his fault that Dudley had done poorly.

He had cried that night; cried quietly for a long time.

It took a while for the message to sink in; the next time he had done well in a test, Dudley hadn't had one, so he brought it home and gave it to her, only to receive a slap across the bridge of his nose as a reward.

That time, it was his fault that Dudley had been pulled out of class for bad behaviour.

What?

Why?

Why was it always his fault that his stupid, fat, lazy cousin couldn't count, couldn't be polite, couldn't even add-up basic sums properly?

After that incident, he'd failed his next text on purpose, getting the lowest possible score he could, hoping to make them feel better about their son, to help Dudley look better, but instead of them feeling better, they got angrier, they yelled louder, and they hit harder.

It was an embarrassment that he had failed.

He could still remember the feel of his punishment years later, remember the pain as his arm snapped with an audible 'crack', remember the other pain that burned through his arm and shoulder, like scalding daggers piercing into his skin as he looked at his arm, sticking out at an angle he knew was unnatural.

His uncle grabbed him by the same arm, dragging him towards the cupboard under the stairs, which served as his bedroom. The movement jostled his arm, causing him to scream out in pain, which only served to anger the large man further, before he found himself thrown into the cupboard, with the door slammed shut behind him, and the bolt slid into place.

It was then and there, sat alone and cloaked in darkness, crying as pain continued to shoot through his arm that the seven year old Harry Potter declared to himself that he would never allow himself to feel that level of shame over something again.

He would never allow himself to feel that level of fear again.

If he couldn't please the Dursleys, if they wanted to hate him for simply being there, then that was fine with him! He was going to work even harder than he already had, he would push himself farther than he thought was going to be possible, he would rise even higher than they even thought it was possible.

He wouldn't stop until Harry Potter was a name known across the world, a name known to everyone, a name that was synonymous with the elite level of prestige that the Dursleys craved so desperately.

And then, when he reached a level beyond everyone else had, and they tried their best to cling to his glory…

He would leave them behind.

He would proclaim it across world, to anyone and everyone that would listen, and most importantly, he would proclaim it especially to them.

Harry Potter was not, nor had he ever been, a member of the Dursley family.

After that day, having needed the full weekend for his arm to heal, Harry studied harder than he had before, almost memorising the textbook material, before he moved on, always aiming to push himself that bit higher, always looking for more advanced material, always striving for perfection, seeking to know at least that bit more than anybody else around him.

The pain never stopped coming - not completely anyway - so he learned to adapt. The pain dished out became worse got him when he reacted to them, so he learned to hide his feelings behind a mask.

An utterly blank mask that he could slide into place whenever he needed to.

And it was a mask he had perfected wearing.

From there onwards, he quickly learned that the best places to hide from his cousin were the more academic areas around the school - the dinner hall was always a danger, but the library and the classrooms were always safe havens from Dudley and his gang.

No Harry-hunting took place in the halls of a place where there was knowledge to be found and learning to be had.

And if they refuse to enter these places, then just means that they are fools.

He learned quickly that a small, soft smile and a gentle pair of eyes could melt even the hardest looking of hearts, and gain access to places that his cousin's brute strength could not.

He learned quickly how his charms worked. He enjoyed spending his breaks and free time reading all of the old novels and biographies he could get his hands on; he picked up books on more old-fashioned traditions and customs that had fallen out of practice, about how proper gentlemen were supposed to act and behave around ladies. He even managed to find a few books written about medieval gallantry and ancient codes of conduct for knights of the realm, even if they were mostly guesswork based on evidence.

He read all of them, devouring them as he pulled out the important pieces, making sure he understood what was being said before he tried to put them into practice against his favourite teachers, convincing them to hand permission slips and report cards straight to him, instead of calling the Dursleys in to meet him.

He read the reports through once, quickly seeing if there was anything he needed to improve on, before dropping them in the dumpsters behind a café half-way between the house and the school, where they would be disposed of quickly, and he quickly became proficient at duplicating his Uncle's signature, in case it was ever compared to the one that was signed on Dudley's forms.

Parent-teacher conferences were almost always a bit too easy to work around - 'They have a dinner engagement at work', 'there's a late meeting for my Uncle's firm', 'Aunt Marge is visiting - they aren't going to be able to make it' - he delivered each bit of news with a slightly downcast look, prompting them to wave him off, as he tugged at their sympathetic strings, and they accepted the response from their school's star pupil.

Teachers were always willing to listen to the charming and soft-spoken, green-eyed little orphan boy with the strange scar on his forehead.

He always felt a slight pang at his lies, a small 'thud' in his chest, but he learned to push it aside. He wasn't like Dudley.

Dudley lied for fun - he lied to get people into trouble.

Harry lied to stay out of trouble - he actually liked his teachers, he just didn't want them to meet with the Dursleys.

He lied because it was necessary.

And when something was necessary, it quickly became easy.

From reading his books on customs, he moved on to devour the texts on behaviour, absorbing them, gaining their knowledge before he felt the need to more on and learn even more.

You can always take it one step further if you try hard enough.

By the end of his final year at school, Missus Gary, the school's 'big-boned' librarian, was passing texts to him about public speaking and proper dressing, telling him that it would become a 'vital' part of his future schooling and later life.

Oh, she had no idea just how right she would be proven to be.

He left Ash Vale Primary School with the highest of top marks, and the highest of praise from all of his teachers, wishing him the best in his future, telling him that they all thought he would go exactly as far as he wanted to.

Yes… I will go that far…

No! I will go even further than that.

In fact, I won't stop until I am the greatest.

A sharp shove to the back brought him out of his own head.

It was Dudley's eleventh birthday, and as a treat, the Dursleys had decided to take him and one of his friends to London Zoo.

He was supposed to stay behind, like he usually did, with Missus Figg, an old lady who lived down the street with her seven cats and whose house always had an odd smell to it, but she had broken her leg two weeks ago and wasn't able to look after him like she usually did. After a small argument between the two of them, his aunt and uncle had decided that he had to be taken along too.

He already endured an early morning tantrum of his cousins over only having thirty six birthday presents, when he had thirty seven last year.

It's disgusting.

But greed like that can always be used…

He strolled ahead of them all as they entered the reptile house, trying to looked as though he was there separately, while completely ignoring Vernon and Petunia's thinly veiled disgust and Dudley and Piers' attempts to scare the animals into moving behind their glass fronts.

Behind him, he heard his Uncle's meaty fist knocking against the glass at Dudley's instruction.

Rolling his eyes, he stopped in front of one of the exhibits, taking in the form of the large boa constrictor sat against the rocks.

"I know what it's like to feel trapped in a cage", he murmured the words against the glass, watching as the snake rose slightly, to lock it's glossy black eyes with his own, "you must hate being in there, being stared at day after day, not able to do anything else. I bet you're lonely"

" Yesss… it isss frussstrating, being here, doing nothing but sssit on the sssame rock every day… no one to talk to"

He felt his eyes widen behind his lenses, as he whipped his head around from side to side, before turning his head back towards the serpent, which had risen even higher off the rock it was seated on, moving ites head to match the height of his own, mirroring his movements, as he gently moved his head from side to side.

" Can you… can you underssstand me?

Silently, the snake nodded its head, and he could feel his breathing increase, even as his eyes widened behind his glasses, "Yesss I can underssstand you little hatchling, you are a ssspeaker of the ssserpent tongue"

" The ssserpent tongue?"

" The language of the sssnakesss. You can ssspeak to our kind, command usss, and we are bound to lisssten. You hissssss it at me now, young wizzzard. Hear yourssself"

"What do you-", straining his ears, he could hear the noise coming out of his mouth. The hissing he associated with snakes, from the few times he'd seen them on TV was coming out of his mouth.

"… I'm a what?"

" You are a wizzzard youngling. And a ssspeaker"

" I alwaysss knew I wasss different. You mean I'm… ssspecial?"

" Ssspecial? There hasss only been one known ssspeaker in the lassst cccentury… before that I know of none recccently"

He looked up, reading the plaque along the wall - 'BRED IN CAPTIVITY - before shooting the Boa Constructor a curious look, "How would you know thisss?"

" All our kind knowsss thisss. It isss a basssic assspect of who we are. The very moment we are born, the raw magic of parssseltongue sssurroundsss usss"

" Magic? Parssseltongue?"

" Yesss youngling. Magic isss-"

"MUMMY! DADDY! Come quickly! You won't believe what this snake is doing!"

And then Harry felt his cousin's fat hand grab his shoulder from behind, before he found himself being thrown backwards and to the floor, firmly feeling his tailbone collide against the solid stone.

He felt his anger flare up inside him, even as he slid his mask firmly into place, letting it settle across his face. All of his attention was now focused on the glass that his cousin had pressed his porcine face up against, as he imagined how great it would be if the glass was gone, if Dudley was stuck in the cage with snake - the smart creature that it was.

Hehe… Then make it happen! Use your magic!

Focus!

He felt the muscles in his jaw tighten in his anger, he could feel his neck tense as that anger flowed through his veins, lighting his body on fire, sending a blazing heat coursing through him, as it travelled from the middle of his chest, burning its way to the tips of his fingers.

Power…

Ultimate power…

And then the glass was gone.

Just like magic!

Well done…

His smirk blew into a full blown grin, as he watched as the serpent darted forward, its nose striking Dudley's shoulder, sending him falling into Uncle Vernon, and both of them to the floor, as Aunt Petunia let out a terrified shriek that startled all of the room's other occupants, pulling all of their attention to the snake that was now loose.

There was a cacophony of screams and shouts, as people fled the room as quickly as they could. Terror taking over their veins. His relatives had all turned into different shapes of white, as they shrank back in fear, attempting to pull Piers, who had fainted, along with them, away from where the Boa Constrictor had lowered itself gracefully to the floor.

It slithered towards the exit behind him, pausing only long enough to regard him with its beady eyes, its forked tongue darting out, "Thanksss"

He swallowed down the nervous laugh that threatened to bubble out of his throat, "You're welcome"

With its final words, the snake moved past him completely, gliding along the floor, and out of the door.

Turning around, he caught a glimpse of his Aunt and Uncle staring at him, and he couldn't fail to notice the looks of fear etched across their faces.

He had questions that needed to be asked.

He wanted answers.

T hen demand them! Taker them! You are a Wizard!

Yes… I am…

My name is Harry Potter… and I am a wizard.

And he was going to take them.

Harry let himself be shepherded back to Privet Drive, sat squashed up next to the window in the backseat of the Dursley's car, as everyone maintained their painful silence, which stretched beyond dropping Piers back off at his parents' house.

When they finally got back home, he didn't wait to be told, but instead, he immediately slipped silently into the cupboard under the stairs, into the darkness that welcomed him, somewhere where he could think.

Somewhere where he could bide his time.

He remained completely silent, as he sat crossed legged on the thin mattress he had to endure being used as his bed, listening in as the Dursleys bustled about the house.

He listened in as they fretted over Dudley and spoke worriedly for Piers, panicking over what the boy could be telling his parents back at their home. He continued listening as the two males stuffed their faces during their evening meal under Aunt Petunia's watchful eyes, before she ordered Dudley to bed, ensuring that he rested after his 'ordeal', and Harry decided to wait another ten minutes before he would interrupt the remainder of their evening, sat in front of the telly.

He slipped out of the cupboard, letting it gently swing shut behind him, before he crossed the small hallway, and entered the lounge.

He felt their eyes on him even as he opened the door, before he met their joint stares as he stepped fully into view.

He cleared his throat, sitting across from them on the small sofa, watching as the red appeared on his uncle's cheeks and his jaw clenched, as he sank further into his chair, glowering at him, while his Aunt leant forward slightly, her eyes narrowing as she took him in.

"I spoke to that snake at the zoo today"

Their eyes both flew wide open at his words, his uncle's teeth clenched together so tightly that if he cared, he would've been worried about his long-term dental health, and his aunt's mouth opened and closed several times with no noise being emitted, so much so that she began to resemble a gaping fish.

"Now listen here boy", his Uncle sat forward suddenly, spitting the last word as the red in his cheeks became more prominent, "we've no time to sit here and listen to this none-"

"He also told me I was a wizard"

His Uncle swallowed his words, letting out a choking noise as the two adults exchanged a brief look of concern, before his uncle tried to press on, "There's no such-"

"Vernon", his Aunt's voice was quiet, her voice sounded shaky, and higher pitched than normal.

She almost sounded afraid

"I think we have to tell him now"

"But they said-"

"I know what they said", his Aunt's voice grew slightly firmer, harsher, sending her husband a sharp look, as his Uncle sank backwards, losing his colour and deflating at her words, "but we both know they lied to us, and we should tell him… I think we need to tell him… and I think that I need to be the one to tell him what happened"

His uncle huffed, his massive chest rising before dropping with the breath, but he couldn't find it in himself to argue against the tone in his wife's voice. Looking defeated, he nodded once, and his Uncle clambered to his feet, bending to dutifully kiss his wife on the cheek, before walking straight past them, ignoring his nephew completely as he headed straight up the stairs and to bed, leaving the two of them sat in an uncomfortable silence.

Petunia remained seated silently on the couch, listening and waiting until she heard their bedroom door close, before standing and moving for their liquor cabinet.

The liquor cabinet held the drinks Vernon used when he was hosting dinner parties, in an attempt to impress potential new clients, or when he was angling for a promotion.

Still in complete silence, she poured herself a small measure of whiskey, wincing at the unpleasant taste in her mouth and the burning sensation in her throat, before pouring another and putting everything back in its proper place and sitting back down on the couch.

Fighting the urge to shudder, Petunia turned her attention to her nephew, drawing in a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

"I'm… I'm going to tell you what happened when you were dropped off here ten years ago…"

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Mr Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1 st . We await your owl by no later than July 31 st .

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

Harry looked down at the emerald ink, carefully scripted on the yellow parchment, before, pulling out the second piece, and scanning it eagerly, feeling his excitement rise as he did his best to memorise it.

First Year students will require:

Uniform

1. Three Sets of Plain Work Robes (Black)

2. One Plain, Pointed Hat (Black) for day wear

3. One Pair of Protective Gloves (Dragon Hide or similar)

4. One Winter Cloak (Black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all student's clothes should carry name-tags.

Books

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1), by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic , by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory , by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration , by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi , by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions , by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them , by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection , by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

1 Wand
1 Cauldron (Pewter, Standard Size 2)
1 Set Glass or Crystal Phials
1 Telescope
1 Set of Brass Scales
1 School Trunk (Standard Size)

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.

Clutching the letter firmly in his hand, he entered the kitchen, where the Dursleys were eating their breakfasts.

Aunt Petunia looked at him sharply over the top of her coffee, making no move to wish him a happy birthday as her eyes immediately honed in on the parchment he had clutched in his hand.

"Is that your letter?"

"It is", he sat across from her, helping himself to some toast and bacon, "I'll need to buy school supplies. I would like to get them soon, so that I can prepare for my classes"

Uncle Vernon took in a deep breath, tightening his grip on his paper, but made no move to get up, and Harry counted it as a win. Instead, the older man turned to face his wife, and plastered his attempt at a genial smile across his face instead, "Pet, I believe you wanted to visit the city this Saturday for some shopping…", he trailed off, unwilling, or unable to continue his thoughts.

"Yes, Vernon dear, I did. We can go and do our shopping and the bo- Harry", she corrected herself, gritting her teeth lightly, "can go and do his", she turned back to him, her face blank, "okay?"

"That would be lovely Aunt Petunia. Thank you Uncle Vernon", his Uncle nodded stiffly before returning to his newspaper and eggs, relaxing his grip ever so slightly, "I'll go and pen my response now and we can be rid of the bird in the garden"

He swallowed the last of his toast as he stood to his feet, not missing his Uncle's breath of relief as he moved away from them and into the parlour, grabbing one of the 'proper' pens, and the 'good' paper, as he moved towards the coffee table.

Dear Headmistress McGonagall,

Further to your acceptance letter, dated July 31 st , I am honoured to accept a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, for the new school term starting in the coming September.

I look forward to starting my education, and meeting you in person, upon my arrival on September 1 st .

Yours Sincerely,

Harry Potter
Number 4 Privet Drive

When he was finished, and decided he was happy with his wording and penmanship, Harry folded the paper in half, and slotted the letter into a blank envelope, before adding his future headmistress' and school's names onto the back.

Several minutes later, it was sealed, and had been securely attached to the large, brown barn owl that had delivered the letter to the front door like a postman, before it had made itself at home on the back garden fence, and he watched it, fascinated, as the owl took off, and disappeared into the sky.

Albus Dumbledore, the current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and one of the most recognised wizards worldwide, was sat at his desk, in his school office, as he enjoyed a light lunch, whilst also taking the time to read through the day's edition of the Daily Prophet.

The only thing of any real note was the passing of a motion, pushed through by one of the Minister's junior undersecretaries, which further increased the restrictions placed on werewolves, though that particular piece of news wasn't new to him, as he had been one of the ones to argue vehemently against it during the last debate session of the Wizengamot.

Fawkes let out a soft trill from where he was seated on his perch and he felt the phoenix's soothing song ease his mind from its worries slightly, as he discarded the paper into his fireplace.

Almost absentmindedly, he wiped away the jam residue from his lips as he turned his gaze out to the grounds of Hogwarts, enjoying the sight of the lush greenery which seemed to stretch on for miles and miles. It was only going to be another four weeks before they would once again be full of schoolchildren, who were as hopeful and eager for another year of learning and challenges as he was to provide them, and he couldn't wait to see the young, excited faces of the newest batch of first years.

He was alerted to movement on the staircase which led to his office, and if his hearing was correct, then whoever it was, was in a quite a rush.

A quick wave of his hand opened the door, and allowed a very flustered Professor McGonagall to see him, as she reached the top of the staircase, and wasted no time in crossing the threshold to his room, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her strong hands.

"Minerva", he kept his voice calm, hoping that it would work to calm her, and he wasn't unsurprised when it didn't seem to work, his old friend always was wound a bit too tightly in his opinion, "whatever seems to be the matter with you?"

"I was just going through the last of this year's acceptance letters Albus, when I found this one at the very bottom. It just came in this morning"

She handed over the letter, watching as he read the few lines written, and saw as his rather tranquil appearance morphed, being replaced with a look of shock, as his face became slightly paler than normal.

"He's coming here?" The elderly wizard cleared his throat, "He's eligible?"

"Yes Albus. I double-checked. We need to inform them. We can't, not, tell them. I mean… they are-"

"Yes yes, I quite agree. Minerva, do you think you could…"

"I'll do it this afternoon"

"Thank you my dear", he sat up a bit straighter, "if that's all you need…?"

She turned, recognising the polite dismissal, and left the office, determined to finalise the details for the new influx of students as quickly as she could, now that she had an extra house call to make.

And it was going to be an awkward one no doubt.

Once she had left his office, and he could no longer hear her footsteps down the corridor, he waved the door shut, and sat back into his chair, trying and failing to relax as he felt all one hundred and ten years of his age assault him at once.

He rested his chin on steepled fingers as he gazed, forlornly, out towards the Black Lake, unable to feel the sun that turned the waters a crisp blue.

"Oh, what have you done Albus…", he knew not all of the blame laid with him, but he couldn't help but feel ashamed of himself, as he was, at the very least, partly responsible for what had happened, before he chuckled slightly at what he would've said was absurdity yesterday.

Harry Potter… is coming to Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

' As soon as I saw you, I knew a grand adventure was about to happen'

-Winnie the Pooh

Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Power

Part Two

Harry Potter & the Whispers of Desire

Chapter Two: The Meeting

"Can you see it?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia"

"You know what you have to do then?"

He fought the urge to roll his eyes, which did not go unnoticed by his Aunt, who grabbed his chin with more force than was strictly necessary, her nails digging into his chin. To the average passer-by, she would simply look like a concerned mother; only he could feel the stinging pain in his jaw.

"Remember to be back here by four o'clock and not one second later. If you are not here when we return, then we will leave you behind. Do you understand me?"

He grit his teeth as she clenched tighter, "Yes, Aunt Petunia, I understand you"

"Good. Don't be late"

And with her final warning, she turned on her highly-glossy heel, and left him standing on the pavement as she got straight back into the car where Vernon and Dudley were waiting for her. Without sparing him so much as a backward glance, she buckled her seatbelt and the four of them immediately drove away for a day of perfectly normal shopping.

Refusing to track the movement of the car with his eyes, he turned away from them completely as he gazed at the small pub across the street.

The pub that Aunt Petunia said she couldn't see.

The Leaky Cauldron.

With a blank face and neutral expression firmly in place, he crossed the street, heading straight towards the plain, black door that everyone else on the street was ignoring entirely. He pushed it straight open, not hesitating in the slightest as he moved into the seemingly ancient establishment.

The place was dark, but not overly so, and while it wasn't not over-crowded, it wasn't empty either. There were four wizards and two witches sat inside, not including a man wearing a white apron, who was stood behind the bar.

The barman would be his best and safest option to get through to the alley behind.

At that conclusion, he straightened up, squared his shoulders and walked across the pub floor, attempting to project the confidence he didn't quite feel.

"Excuse me Sir"

The barman looked up at him over the top of his counter, his hands coming up, even as the rag continued to move back and forth, wiping the countertop down.

He stared at it, transfixed, as he got his first real look at magic!

It was being used openly and easily, as though it was completely normal to do so.

"Hem hem", the noise of a cleared throat brought him out of where he was now staring at the cloth, entranced by its movements, "can I help you son?"

His blank mask prevented the flare of anger from showing across his face.

I'm nobody's son!

"I need to get to… err…"

He trailed off, doing his best to look like a timid little boy, and was rewarded with a soft smile, "Ah, I see. You need to get to Diagon Alley, am I right?"

He nodded.

"Well then lad, come on then, come on, follow me now"

He led him outside, straight through the back door of the pub, to an area that housed three brick walls and two empty dustbins.

He opened his mouth to comment, but before he could get a word out, the barman plunged his hand into the front pouch of his apron and pulled a thin piece of wood.

No! Not a piece of wood…

A wand!

He tapped out a series of three bricks with the tip of his wand, which he made sure to memorise for later, and then Harry watched on, completely mesmerised as the last brick quivered, before they shook, before folding in on themselves, twisting and turning outwards, and to the sides, until the hole they created grew to become a large archway, revealing the magical alley, that lay hidden behind them.

Diagon Alley was alive.

People bustled about everywhere, he could see a mixture of what he had always assumed were old-fashioned robes, and more everyday clothing like t-shirts and jeans. There were even a few odd combinations - one man was even wearing bright orange trousers with a plaid shirt and green tie, alongside an oversized pink top hat.

There were signs anywhere they could fit, and everywhere he could see, and in every different colour he could think of, advertising what seemed like everything, from the slightly strange to the downright weird.

A chuckle from above brought him back down to earth, as the barman was looking down at him fondly, grinning at Harry's obvious display of amazement, "Now, this is where I leave you. If you need anything, just come back and ask for Tom the Barman - that's me - and I'll see if I can help you out, okay then, young Mister…"

He trailed off, leaving his question open, but he felt grateful for what he had done, even if the man was prying, "Just Harry is fine Sir. Thank you for all your help Sir"

"It was my pleasure then, 'Just Harry'. Stay safe now", and with a ruffle of his hair, Tom set off to return to his bar, before anyone got any 'funny' ideas without him there to keep a close eye on them.

Once Tom was out of sight, and the door to the Leaky Cauldron was firmly shut behind him, Harry ran a quick hand through his hair, in a futile attempt to straighten it out, before he made for the huge, white marble building at the end of the alley.

He passed stores that advertised hats, another one obviously sold cauldrons, as they were piled outside gleaming bright gold, silver and a myriad of other colours in the sunlight. There was a wizarding tailor in the middle of the street that sold 'robes for all occasions', and a dark brown building called Eyelops Owl Emporium.

Harry couldn't stop his eyes from darting about behind the rims of his glasses, in an attempt to learn where each of the different stores was, as he tried to commit them all to memory for his personal use later.

With a longing glance directed at the tiny, purple-painted Ollivander's (Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.), Harry climbed the steps to his first destination.

Gringotts.

The country's only wizarding bank.

The entire building appeared as though it had been carved out of a single, large piece of gleaming white marble, as it stood proudly at the very end of the alley, brashly declaring its presence to everyone within sight, and looming over the other buildings, standing tall and elegant, yet also being beautifully simple in its design.

He walked through the first set of white marble doors, instantly noticing how much darker it was inside, the bank being lit by bronze braziers, compared to the bright London sunlight outside. There were a second set of doors, made of a fine silver, except this time, he noticed the words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn
Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.

Feeling much more afraid than he had a moment ago, before he had stopped to read the bank's attempt at a disclaimer, Harry held his head high as he walked straight towards the silver doors, doing a double take when a small pair of creatures, each decked in a waistcoat and tie bowed him in, as he entered the bank.

He paused on the interior of the door, and took a moment to stare at the bank's décor, taking in everything from the black and white tiled floor, to the gilded wood panelling along the walls, and the solid marble ceiling.

Gringotts was a place like no other he had seen.

Sat on high stations above him, Harry could see more of the small creatures that had greeted him at the door, working as bankers, they almost looked civilised expect for the moments when they looked downright vicious, as they each regarded him with a smile, all of which displayed their sharp, pointy teeth.

The bank itself was mostly empty, only a few clients were stood at some of the stations, speaking to the small things about their affairs.

Struggling to keep his features blank in the manner he had perfected, he took a breath to help keep them firmly in place, before he retook the same bearing he had used at the Leaky Cauldron, and strolled across to the nearest empty station, projecting confidence in his walk as he kept his footsteps firm, yet light at the same time. When he reached the nearest station, he wasn't sure if it had worked, as the creature didn't even bother to look down at him from the parchment it was writing on.

"Name?"

"Harry Potter"

"State your business"

"I'm told I have a vault here. I wish to visit it"

"And does Harry Potter have his key?"

"Harry Potter does not"

Finally, the thing looked at him, evaluating him, before nodding ever so slightly to itself, "Very well then, Mister Potter. Griphook!"

His yell carried across the floor, and after a moment, another one of the creatures came waddling over, dressed in a small pinstripe suit, with a crisp white shirt, and a circle of keys strapped to his waist. He stopped and stood directly in front of Harry, staring straight up at the teller, and ignoring him for the moment, "Yes, Sharptooth"

"Please take the young Mister Potter here to confirm his identity, issue him with a new key and then take him to his vault"

"Right away Sir. Follow me Mister Potter"

Harry allowed himself to be led out of the main hall, or rather, he tried to keep up as the creature walked away without pausing to check if he was following. They made their way into a small room off to the side of the main one, which was decorated in the same style of marble as the rest of the bank, and was apparently Griphook's office, according to the small nameplate that was stuck to the front of the door.

"Sit"

Harry followed the command, deciding that caution was the only sensible option available to him, and took the obvious seat opposite the small desk as Griphook busied himself with something on one of the shelves lining the wall behind him, before moving back in front of him, placing a piece of blank parchment and a small silver knife on the desk in front of him.

"Three drops on the parchment Mister Potter"

He cleared his throat, and Griphook scowled at him, no doubt irritated at the delay, "Three drops of what, exactly?"

"Your blood Mister Potter. Three drops of your blood on the parchment should be sufficient"

Blood? They need my blood?

If it is necessary! Do it!

With a sureness he didn't quite feel, he picked up the silver dagger, and very gently, he pushed the point of the blade into his fingertip, stopping when he finally saw the crimson liquid he needed.

He held the appendage over the parchment, and with a little flick, sent several drops of the scarlet substance flying across the page.

The instant contact was made, thick black lines began to write themselves across the page, and Griphook snatched up the parchment, taking it with him as he finally sat down on the other side of the desk.

"Right, well then, Mister Potter, it appears you do indeed have a trust vault, vault number 687, which you are permitted visit today, and you should also be able have access to the Potter Family Vault, vault number 212 after you reach your age of majority", appearing surprised, the creature sent him a raised eyebrow over the top of the parchment, "though it appears there is a third vault you have access to…"

"Which one?"

"Vault 91…", Griphook trailed off, shooting a wide-eyed look at him over the top of the parchment, "though that can't be right…", he trailed off and Harry raised an eyebrow in response, "regardless. , you can't have access to that, as we will need to investigate this one further. A team of other goblins, and maybe curse-breakers will handle that. You will be informed in due time", he ignored Harry's attempts to ask more questions by briskly moving on, "there's nothing that can be done about it today. An owl will be sent to you at a later date, once we have investigated the matter fully, and only when we have a response to the claim, will we have more information available for you. You can access Vault 687 today if you so wish to do so"

"I do still wish to do so"

Again, like Sharptooth had, Griphook, the goblin, sent him a look that made him feel as though they were inspecting him, determined to find something hidden beneath his worn-out, grey clothes, but instead, he settled for just nodding to himself, "Then we should be going. Time is money, after all. Follow me Mister Potter"

Taking a moment to grab a small mound of what appeared to be gold, Griphook led him out of his office and down towards the bank's rear wall, before he turned off down a small, narrow corridor, which ended in a small, black door.

Griphook held it open for him, and Harry was surprised when he entered the next section of the bank, expecting more marble corridors, but was instead greeted with a natural stone cavern, as a small black cart rolled into view in front of them.

With a sinister smile, Griphook instructed him to take a seat and a quick cart ride later, they both pulled to a stop, and Griphook jumped out towards the vault door. Twisting around slightly, he smirked at the pale green tinge that Harry's face had taken on, but was also slightly impressed with the maintaining of his composure and the lack of complaints - nearly everyone that came in asked for the cart to slow down.

Though given the tinge to his face, it was also possible that he was just trying not to throw up.

Griphook slipped the mound of gold against the vault door and Harry watched, wide-eyed, as it melted, slithering down the door to reach the keyhole. The metallic liquid contorted itself, squirming into the keyhole, changing shape as it went, before it solidified into the shape of a small key, barely as long as his biggest finger.

The goblin almost laughed as the door swung open and Harry's jaw fell open; inside of the vault were mounds of gold, heaps of silver and towers of bronze.

"Vault 687. Trust vault for Hadrian James Potter"

"Woah… that is a lot of gold"

"That is the total sum of five thousand gold galleons in various coinage. Set to refill every year on June 30th until Hadrian James Potter completes his schooling at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. No excess to be maintained if left unused"

"Mister Griphook-"

"Just Griphook, Mister Potter"

"Just Harry, please. What exactly is a gold galleon?"

"Gold galleons, silver sickles, bronze knuts. The international currency of the wizarding world, controlled by Gringotts Bank. Twenty nine knuts to a sickle, seventeen sickles to a galleon, and four hundred, ninety three knuts to a galleon. One galleon is currently the rough equivalent to four pounds and ninety seven pence, in Great British Pounds Sterling, depending on the current exchange rate, which is published daily in the Daily Prophet. Are there any more questions?"

"How much of it can I take?"

"All of it", at his look of disbelief the goblin explained, "it will refill to exactly this amount every year, for the next seven years, but it will never add up to more"

"Okay then", he walked in the middle of a few of the piles, slowly spinning as he took it all in, his hands spreading out, involuntarily reaching for the gold, "so what I need is-"

"There are charmed Gringotts pouches available for purchase, it will easily be able to store the entire contents of the vault inside, and can be yours for a charge of just five Galleons. It also won't weigh a thing. If you wish, I can have one filled for you when we return to the surface, and we can transfer the amount straight out of your account"

"Please do so", he looked down slightly, before he locked eyes with the rather blunt goblin, "could you tell me what the rough cost of my school items will be for the year"

"Based on this year's first year supplies list, and assuming new items of good quality, I would say no more than four hundred galleons. Obviously it will be more should you wish to buy extra or more expensive materials"

"Materials such as?"

"Dragon hide or acromantula silk clothing would add several hundred, perhaps even an additional thousand galleons to your costs. Gold or diamond items would likewise do the same. Goblin silver would be much more expensive also, so much so that you simply couldn't afford it"

He nodded, taking in the goblin's words, "In that case, I think I'd like to leave now Griphook"

He smiled, once more showing his teeth as he removed the key, "Then get in the cart Mister Potter"

One cart ride and the purchase of a Gringotts money bag later, Harry found himself stood once more in the bright, London sunshine as he surveyed the Alley from his spot at the top of Gringotts' steps.

Deciding that the easiest thing to buy first would be his school trunk, he headed for the beige building that appeared to be lopsided in its construction and headed straight inside.

Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment was extremely clean inside, and as he took a look around, he caught sight of a dustpan and broomstick sweeping the floor alone, even as a floating rag wiped at his trainers. After finding a glossy black leather one he liked the look of, and finding out that it had separate, magically expanded sections, he paid extra to have what he was told were the basic security spells added to it, as well as to have the Hogwarts crest and his name embossed in gold. His name caused the shop attendant to squeak slightly, bowing deeply and offer his apologies for his rude behaviour - he hadn't been rude as far as Harry could tell - and then he spent the rest of their time together spluttering and stammering as he took note of what Harry wanted.

In the end, Harry left the store with his embossed leather trunk, complete with shrinking charms (charms were apparently a branch of magic he would be learning at Hogwarts, if the stammering salesman was to be believed), as well as anti-theft charms, which prevented anyone but himself from being able to open the trunk.

His coin purse was a full eighty two galleons, sixteen sickles and twenty knuts lighter, but he thought it was an excess that was well spent, not that he had anything worth stealing.

Or anything at all really…

Not yet… but you will.

He bought his pewter cauldron, brass scales and crystal phials next from Potage's, the cauldron shop he had passed on his way towards the bank, the lone store clerk being kind enough to inform him that crystal phials would last much longer than the standard school glass ones.

Thanking them for their assistance, he shelled out an extra twenty galleons for the crystal set, spending just under fifty galleons in total for the phials, before he bid the clerk farewell, offering them his best smile and pausing as he walked out for him to help him, the elderly man enlarging and shrinking his shrunk for him with a simple wave of his wand.

At Slug & Jigger's, the apothecary a few stores down, he asked what he would need for a first year at Hogwarts and was pleasantly surprised to find that they offered standard school packs that had been specifically designed for each year group by the Hogwarts Potion Master. They happily supplied him the ingredients pack he needed, and when he asked for them, they looked rather proud as they handed over a second set of all the ingredients - apparently not many people were bothered enough to be so thoroughly prepared for class.

He then spent some time looking around for silver cutting knives and other equipment, only taking the best off of the shelves, and receiving a few items straight from the back that weren't kept on display.

Another sixty galleons lighter, he felt rather satisfied as he left the shop behind.

The telescope was the next item on his left to get, which meant he had to return to Wiseacre's, having missed it the first time round. Once the attendant was done fussing over him, looking extremely flustered, he bought a collapsible brass model from the man; one that he was told was part of the latest range, as most other students were still buying the slightly older, non-collapsible models, which were much heavier, and took up much more storage space.

And again, he left the store with just over another sixty galleons gone from his pouch.

With three shops left to go, he wandered into Flourish and Blotts, which was where a rather lovely, young redheaded woman had told him he could buy all of his schoolbooks from. He had refused to meet her eyes, playing the part of the lost, little boy, as she had looked like she wanted to take him with her, and drag him off to find his mother, so he went for the sympathy card with her.

In the end it worked well enough, and he pulled himself, and his trunk, into the store.

And it was beautiful.

Books lined every shelf, from floor to ceiling in a strange assortment of patterns. The store itself seemed to extend so far back, that he wasn't sure he could see where it ended, as the shelves at the very back were covered in a layer of darkness.

So much to learn… so much I'll be able to do…

True mastery starts with the simplest of spells…

Under the bemused eye of the lady who was manning the counter, he dragged his trunk over to the side of the store, before grabbing one of the already piled, first year Hogwarts textbook packages, and placed it on the top of his trunk, before he offered the witch at the counter a charming smile, who chuckled lightly at his enthusiasm, before he raced off amongst the shelves.

He spent the next two hours buried deep within the shelves of Flourish and Blotts, diving through the various texts and tomes that littered the store, looking to find out and buy a copy of everything he could.

He wandered off towards the back of the shop, his curiosity driving him, but was quickly called back by the witch, who told him to "Just call me Emily", and was told that those books could only be purchased by people who were seventeen years of age or older.

Feeling slightly dejected (who knew what types of magic they contained), he returned to the shelves at the front of the store, and continued adding to what he knew was going to become a substantial collection in the years to come.

By the time he had finished there, his book list had expanded, not only to include all seven grades of The Standard Book of Spells, but also:

A History of Wizarding Britain, by Bathilda Bagshot
A History of Wizarding Genealogy: Britain, by Bathilda Bagshot
A History of Wizarding Law: Britain, by Bathilda Bagshot
Courses and Counter-Curses, by Vindictus Viridian
Social Etiquette and Customs, by Libra Malfoy
Charms for the Charming & Hexes for the Vexing, by Alfred Wayans
Hogwarts: A History
Household and Grooming Tips: Useful Spells that every Young Witch and Wizard Should Know
Parseltongue: The History of the Serpent Tongue
The Mind Arts Explained
The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts

There were a dozen more books that creamed for his attention, but he wanted to have a reason to come back to in the future, so he piled what he already had onto the store counter, and Emily very kindly rang them up, before handing him several dozen rolls of parchment, and two blank ink sets, with eagle feather quills, as well as several mail order notes, which he grinned at, and earned a wink in response.

He thanked her profusely, enjoying the light blush that coated her cheeks from the flattery he was laying on, before he piled them into his trunk.

He began to drag the trunk to the door, struggling with the new weight, and was even more thankful to Emily when she added a quick featherweight charm to the trunk, before telling him it would last for a few hours before it wore off.

Deciding to get his uniform next and save the thing that had him most excited for last, he crossed the street, and stepped straight into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occassions.

When he stepped inside, he was greeted by Madam Malkin, who was a squat, smiling witch dressed entirely in mauve.

"Hogwarts dear?"

He nodded, and she gestured towards some of the changing rooms towards the back, "Just head through there and hop up onto a stool. I've got another one in there at the moment"

He walked through, as she went off and grabbed a few items from the shelves, stacking his trunk against the wall, and hopping up onto a stool as instructed, sending a quick nod of greeting at the platinum-haired boy that stood on a second stool.

"Good morning", said the boy, his voice stiff, "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes", Harry responded, sounding much more relaxed "I'm just trying to decide on the right style and material for my robes before she asks"

The boy regarded him critically, taking in his appearance, his lips curling up in poorly concealed disgust at the state of his clothes. That, at least, he could understand - Dudley's cast-offs were unsightly to say the very least, and based on what the other boy was already wearing, Harry was sure that the boy had good taste or good money.

Or both…

Platinum haired, arrogant bearing, obviously a wizard…

"Well", the boy drawled, obviously unsure of exactly what to make of him, and how to continue with the conversation he'd started, but he spoke anyway, in a tone that reminded Harry of Dudley, and his spoilt-brat ways, "Open robes are much better for daywear, as they allow full range of movement, and are particularly good for duelling. Closed robes should, of course, only and always be worn at formal events. Acromantula silk and Egyptian cotton are obviously the best materials around, but dragon hide makes the best outer cloaks, but they are quite…"

"Expensive, yes", Harry had looked away from the other boy as he had spoken, and realising this, he forced himself to look stronger than he felt, and make eye contact, "but now that I have full access to my trust vault, that should be no longer be a problem for me, but I thank you for your opinion. You quite obviously have good taste when it comes to these things"

The boy looked taken aback at both his bluntness and flattery, his features stuck somewhere between calculating and considering a blush, "Thank you…", he trailed off, hesitating for a moment further before he offered Harry his hand, "My name is Draco by the way. Draco Malfoy"

He took the offered hand, grasping it firmly with his own, "I'm Hadrian, but please, call me Harry"

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly, and went back to assessing him, "Just Harry?"

"It's the only name I have that really matters", they released their hands, and then he remembered why the name sounded familiar to him, it was written on a book he'd just bought, "are you related to Libra Malfoy, by any chance?"

He watched as complete surprise flickered across the boy's face, "Yes, he's one of my father's uncles, he wrote several books on-"

"Wizarding etiquette and customs. I know", at Draco's questioning look he decided to explain, "I just bought one and there was a list included on the back, as I was raised by muggles, I thought it was past-time I re-introduced myself to our ways"

"So", his tone had become clipped, "you're a mud-", he swallowed, "a muggleborn?"

"Muggleborn? AH, no, I have magical parents, but I grew up with my mother's sister, her husband and their son. All of whom are muggles"

"I see…"

He quite clearly didn't.

Any further conversation they might have held, was interrupted by the return of Madam Malkin, carrying a bag that she handed straight to Draco, with another man trailing behind her, who had to be Draco's father.

He walked with a bearing that Harry thought was not unlike the one he tried to use when he wanted older people to take him seriously, however this man had something about him that just spoke of refinement. His long, shoulder length hair was perfectly straightened backwards, falling to brush his shoulders, and was the same platinum shade of blonde as his sons. In his right hand, he held a black cane, with a small, silver snake head, baring its fangs at the tip, and his clothes just screamed expensive, and yet still looked to be classy, not at all an 'in your face' attempt at displaying wealth.

The older man shot his trunk a suspicious look, the name was covered by Harry's jacket, before turning his attention to Harry, running his steel grey eyes over him, scanning everything about him, before his eyes flickered back to his son, a small smile settling onto his face.

"Draco, come along now, you have the rest of your supplies to purchase"

"Yes father", he hopped off of his stool, joining his father at the door, "goodbye Harry, perhaps we'll meet again at Hogwarts"

"Until Hogwarts then, Draco", he watched as the father-son duo left the shop, not listening to what it was they were saying as they left, and Harry turned his full attention to Madam Malkin, who smiled at him, as she picked up her tape measure, brandishing it at him.

"Now then, what type of robes are you after dear?"

Chapter Text

' Great deeds are usually wrought at great risks'

-Herodotus

Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Power

Part Three

Harry Potter & the Whispers of Desire

Chapter Three: The Wandmaker

An hour and a half's worth of fitting time later, Harry had forked out a little over eight hundred galleons for six complete sets of midnight black, silver trimmed, acromantula silk, open day robes; all of which were already embossed with his school's crest over the left breast pocket, which he was told would magically re-stitch itself into his house's crest once he had been sorted, (whatever that was).

He'd also bought his standard black Hogwarts pointed hat, two jet black dragonhide cloaks with solid silver fastenings down the front, one of which, he had decided to leave the school crest off of. A pair of black dragonhide protective gloves, a pair of black acromantula silk gloves, one set of very dark, emerald green, formal closed robes, which Madam Malkin insisted would complement his eye colour perfectly, as well as three pairs of dragonhide boots, all in black, that could be worn in place of what he would use as school shoes, which had also been charmed to prevent minor tripping incidents and small injuries, such as sprained or twisted ankles.

After finally sorting out his school robes, he'd also gone about the store adding shirts, trousers, sweaters, socks, underwear and a few belts to his purchases, (all of the finest quality he could find, of course), before finally deciding that he was finished, and returning to the counter.

Madam Malkin was shocked to have sold so much expensive clothing in one go, but he assumed that was because others would have had years to build up their wardrobes, whereas he had only had the one day.

In any case, she seemed to get over the initial shock setting-in when he started to hand over the amount of gold required, and quickly set herself about ringing up his purchases.

Leaving the, now very happy, woman with her money to count up, he deposited the bags she had given him into his school trunk, and replaced the moleskin pouch onto his belt, before leaving her shop entirely, carrying his trunk in his arms, holding it in front of himself, as he set out for his final destination of the day.

Ollivander's - the one store he'd been dying to get to all day.

And the one he'd decided to save until last.

Yes… it's time…

Finally… it's time to get a wand…

Feeling bold, and tingling with anticipation and excitement, with his heart hammering away wildly in his chest, Harry pushed open the dusty purple door, and, holding his breath the entire time, took the step that allowed him to cross the threshold into the store.

A tinkering bell rang from somewhere above him.

The shop was small - he would call it tiny, even - especially if he compared it to some of the bigger stores he'd seen today, especially against the like of Flourish and Blotts, where the store just seemed to stretch on forever and ever.

The front of the store was completely empty of all shelves and furniture, except for a single small, spindle legged stool. There was an overly large, dark mahogany countertop against the wall, which covered the width of the shop, and then the back of the store held rows upon rows of shelves, which led into a back room that he couldn't see the inside of, and all of which were covered in hundreds of long, narrow boxes, and most of them were coated in a thin layer of dust.

The dust and silence seemed to permeate the air, and he felt that tingling sensation again, as though they were infusing it with a layer of secret magic that called to him, singing into his very blood.

Welcoming you to your true home.

"Good afternoon Mister Potter"

The soft voice startled him, causing Harry to leap out of his skin, so that he jumped forwards and hit his ribs against the edge of the countertop, knocking some of the wind straight out of him.

A lone man stepped forward from the shadows that were the back of the shop, his sharp features were accented by his mid-length, thinning silver hair, and his wide, pale eyes that seemed to glow as he spoke, adding the weird, eerie look he was projecting.

Harry swallowed reflexively, "How do you know who I am?"

The old man descended, "My name is Garrick Ollivander, Mister Potter, and believe me when I say I can remember every person I've ever sold a wand to, Mister Potter", he reached down, and brushed the hair across his forehead, letting is eyes linger on the scar that had always been there, as he traced it with his thumb, "you share several of your body's key features with your father, yet you are different enough to look uniquely yourself, but I have to tell you; you most certainly have your mother's eyes"

Ollivander stood back up, and moved behind his counter, his eyes tinged with nostalgia, "Your mother favoured a willow wand. Ten and a quarter inches, nice and swishy with a unicorn hair core. Most excellent for charm work", from under the counter, he pulled out a tape measure, which stayed in the air as it floated over to him of its own accord, "your father however favoured a mahogany piece. Eleven inches. Pliable, with a dragon heartstring core. A little bit more power, and excellent for use in transfiguration. Well… I say he favoured it, when it's really the wand that chooses the wizard"

"The wand chooses the wizard?"

The old wandmaker's eyes, now clear as day, flew back up to meet his own, traces of a grin on his face, excitement in his features clashing with his hair, "Oh yes, Mister Potter. The wand chooses the wizard, that much, at least, has always been clear to those of us that have studied wandlore"

Ollivander's eyes flew back up to Harry's forehead, raking his eyes over the lightning bolt scar, as he reached out towards it, brushing his thumb across it, once more, lighter this time, ghosting over it, "I even sold the Dark Lord the very wand that gave you that scar. Oh I remember it well, thirteen and a half inches. Yew and phoenix feather. Very powerful… very powerful indeed, and one of my finest works", he trailed off for a moment, lost inside his own thoughts, "now", his countenance again, changed instantly, as he appeared to cheer up considerably with the challenge of finding a new match for his latest customer, "Mister Potter, please tell me, which arm is your wand arm?"

"Well, I'm right-handed Sir", Harry responded, holding his arm up to the tape measure as it zoomed in towards him, and kept it there as the wandmaker moved about, recording the measurements on some parchment which floated beside him, as he explained some of what it was he was known for doing.

"Now, every single Ollivander wand has a core created from a magical substance. I mostly use unicorn hairs, dragon heartstrings, and phoenix feathers, though as all good artists, I do like to experiment from time to time, and there are plenty of cores out there, and dozens even, in here. Each wand is unique, and no two wands are ever the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes et cetera, are ever the same, and of course, you will never get the same results with another wizard's wand. Now… try this one, ash and unicorn hair, ten and a half inches"

Feeling very foolish, Harry picked up the proffered wand, raising it to his shoulder height, and gave it a small swipe from left to right, only have it snatched out of his hand almost instantly by the old man, and he had a new one thrust into its place, "no… okay now, willow and phoenix feather. Go on then, give it a wave", as the old man continued to mutter to himself as moved about his shelves.

He moved the second one, before it too was replaced with a third, a dark black one instead this time, "ebony and dragon heartstring", which he held for several seconds before it too was snatched away to join the others.

They cycled through more and more wands, the pile on the side of the counter growing steadily higher, the longer they went on. With each wave of a wand, Harry only grew more frustrated with himself, while the old wandmaker seemed to only become more and more excited, each time smiling a bit wider than he had before, as though each of his failures only served to make the task more enjoyable for him.

He's actually enjoying himself!

Sadist.

"Tricky customer then, eh? Oh ho, those are the best ones I think", he sighed, "I actually had a holly and phoenix feather wand, eleven and a half inches, that I think would've suited you just fine, but, alas, I sold it earlier this week, though you probably already know that"

At Harry's confused look, which became a scowl for a moment, he decided to ignore him, and continued anyway, rifling through the boxes on the shelves, before he shot up, his body becoming instantly rigid, as though he'd been struck in the chest by a bolt of lightning.

"I wonder… could it be you? I'd have thought it would have been him, but that was all those years ago, and he wasn't the one it chose, but… could. It. Be. You?"

He trailed off, talking to himself as he walked to the one of the very back shelves, barely even visible from the front of the shop, where the old wandmaker was now half-hidden from view by the shadows, he slid out a sleek black wand box, framed in a delicate silver trim, but without one of the store's signature labels to identify it. Gently, the wandmaker carried the box towards him, moving slowly and setting it down gingerly on the countertop, as though the wand itself were a priceless and delicate work of art.

Keeping his movements painfully slow, he gently prised off the lid, which revealed the bright white wand that lay on the black velvet bedding, and with his long fingers, he eased it from the box and offered it to him with both hands, revering it, in a way that made Harry feel slightly uncomfortable.

As gently as Ollivander had, he closed the fingers of his right hand around the wand, and he raised it to his head height. He felt the warmth rush through him, a gentle fire that spread down his arm, as red and gold sparks shot out of the wand's tip, lighting up the store for a moment, and lighting up Ollivander's face, as he jumped on the spot and gave a little clap, "Oo hoo!"

He looked up, to find the wandmaker beaming down at him, with a grin that threatened to split his face in two, "Excellent, Mister Potter, most excellent I must say, and certainly most intriguing too. Now, would you like to purchase anything else?"

Ollivander moved about the back of his store, grabbing him a solid white wand stand, made of the same type of wood as his wand; a wand servicing kit for general maintenance; a book on the basics of wandlore, which Harry was looking forward to getting into; and a black dragonhide wrist holster, which he decided to wear immediately, so that he could, A, he could get used to it, as it would allow him to draw his wand quicker than most, as the wand would slip into his hand, rather than plunging his hand into his robes, and B, he could carry his wand with him immediately.

The wandmaker moved about the store, grabbing the items he had requested, explaining the various cleaning and polishing charms he'd added to them, before depositing them for him, into the now open-trunk, while Harry didn't bother to watch on, his entire focus staying with the wand that was still gently held in his hand.

Only when everything was packed away securely in his trunk, and the featherweight charm had very kindly been renewed as part of his payment, did Ollivander finally turn back to face him, growing completely serious at the look on his young customer's face.

"Sir…", he started off, feeling uncertain of exactly what it was he wanted to say, "you didn't tell me, so I hope you don't mind that I'm asking you now… what exactly is my wand made of Sir?"

The old man regarded him with his pale eyes, the same eyes that seemed to pierce his soul, looking at him gently, as he spoke, with his soft, melodious voice, "I remember every wand I've ever made Mister Potter, and that wand, was the wand I made just after I took over this shop from my father, who took it over from his father, who took it over from his father, and so on. In fact, we worked on it together - it was the last wand he ever worked on, as he had already retired from wandcrafting, and he passed just after we had finally completed it. It was the only time we actually worked together to make a single wand - and we were experimenting, using such a dangerous, potentially even unstable core, that we weren't sure that it would even work after we were finished with it, and yet it did just that"

"What did you use?"

"We used a supple, yew wood for the body, which was unusual. Yew wands are among the rarer kinds of wands Mister Potter, why in fact, I've only made four yew wands in the last century, and even then I've now sold only two of them. It's like I said, the wand chooses the wizard, so the ideal matches for yew wands are as rare and unusual as the wands themselves, and, on most occasions, they are notorious. A yew wand is reputed to endow their possessor with the power of life and death, which I suppose could, be said of all wands really; and yet it is the yew wand that retains a particularly dark and fearsome reputation, most especially in the spheres of duelling and the learning of curses, though trust me Mister Potter, this is just a bunch of superstitious nonsense created by people have been beaten quite badly by their wielders. What I will say is absolutely certain though, is that the yew wand never, and I mean never, chooses to align itself with a mediocre witch or wizard, or with a timid owner", the wand maker paused for a moment, as he nodded to himself, conducting a private conversation with himself "oh yes, I expect great things from you Mister Potter, after all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things… such great and powerful things… terrible, yes, no doubt about it… but great"

Suddenly feeling much more afraid than he had ten minutes before, Harry swallowed the lump that had appeared to lodge itself in his throat, and pushed himself to speak, "And… and the core Sir? What's that made from?"

Ollivander chuckled humourlessly in response, "The core itself was a gift to me, given to me by my father, on behalf of his father, who had already passed, as a 'congratulations' for finally obtaining my mastery in the understanding of wandlore", the old wandmaker looked off slightly as his eyes glistened slightly at the memory, "father told me that it was a gift, to be used only in the most unique of wands", he trailed off again, towards his memories, before shaking himself out of his reverie, "Yes, we certainly made a unique wand, working together with the rarest style of wood we could… to create that wand, your wand, Mister Potter, yes… your wand contains what is probably among, if not the, rarest, most dangerous and most potentially unstable core in the world, so I beg of you not to allow anyone else to handle it, for the results could be catastrophic if the wand were to reject them. It is very powerful, very potent, extremely loyal when bound, and like the phoenix feather, comes from a creature so powerfully magically inclined, that it is perfect for casting all types of magic, but definitely has a bit of a bite, that is, a specialty in the more offensive types of magic", Oliivander smiled gently down at him, "between the core and the yew body, I can already see you as an up and coming duellist"

He could feel his heartbeat hammering in in his ears, as his thirst for knowledge grew instantly at the older man's words.

What is it!? What's the core!?

Tell me!

The old man looked slightly bemused, before his face became one of utmost seriousness, "Your wand, Mister Potter, contains the four hundred year old heartstring from Britain's last recorded basilisk"

Chapter Text

' Knowledge is power, but enthusiasm pulls the switch'

-Ivern Ball

Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Power

Part Four

Harry Potter & the Whispers of Desire

Chapter Four: Preparations

For what he felt could've been the millionth time that very same day, the young wizard, Harry Potter, who lived at Number Four, Privet Drive, was sat on the edge of his new, not-just-a-mattress bed, inside of the smallest bedroom of the house.

He was sat, as he had been for some time, in complete and utter silence, as he constantly turned over the brand new wizard's wand he held in his hands - his wand, and no one else's - the item that proved true, what he had always wanted to be true - that he was special - and so he spent his time examining it completely, taking every inch of it in and memorising every visible detail that he could possibly find.

All twelve and a half inches of its solid, brilliantly bright white yew wood, with its extremely rare, (apparently practically unheard of - which made his chest swell in glee), basilisk heartstring core.

He felt another little tug of pride in his chest at that very idea, which brought a small smile to his face.

From when he was a bit younger, and from the large amount of time had spent in the school's library, he could remember reading some of the very old Greek tales about basilisks, which were in his hiding place in the history section, and if he remembered rightly, then they were, according to the Greek myths, supposed to be tiny little snakes which amongst the grass, that had equally tiny, bony, crown-like heads, which was why they were called the 'kings' of the serpents.

After he had returned from Diagon Alley, their car pulling up outside the Leaky Cauldron at exactly four o'clock, (no doubt hoping he wouldn't be there), arriving back at the house with the Dursleys, he'd immediately put the lingering featherweight charm on it to good use and carried his new school trunk straight up the stairs to his new room; the one room in the house which the Dursleys wouldn't never go into, even if it was just in order to confiscate his new school 'things', and after that, he had thrown himself into it, searching his trunk for his brand new copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

When he'd pulled it out from his pile of books, he'd wasted no time in diving straight into it, flicking past the foreword and introduction entirely, and moving straight past all of the beasts listed under the letter 'A', until he'd settled it on the first page for the letter 'B'. It had taken him a few minutes more to find the entry he wanted, but there it was, as plain and unordinary as every other entry in the textbook, sat right at the top of one of 'B's' pages:

BASILISK

(Also known as the King of Serpents)

M.O.M. Classification: XXXXX

The Basilisk is a brilliant green serpent that may reach up to fifty feet in length. The male has a scarlet plume upon its head. It has exceptionally venomous fangs but its most dangerous means of attack is the gaze of its large yellow eyes. Anyone who looks into them will suffer instant death.

If the food source is sufficient (a Basilisk will eat mammals and birds and most reptiles), the serpent may attain a great age. Herpo the Foul's Basilisk is believed to have lived for close on nine hundred years.

The creation of Basilisks has been illegal since medieval times, though the practice is easily concealed by simply removing the chicken egg from beneath the toad when the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures comes around. However since the Basilisk is uncontrollable except by parselmouths, they are as dangerous to Dark Wizards as anybody else, and there have been no recorded sightings of Basilisks in Britain for at least four hundred years.

Since then, he'd read the passage again, then he'd re-read the passage twice more, until he was confident that he'd committed it all to his memory, before placing the book back in his trunk and taking a seat on the corner of his bed.

'… and there have been no recorded sightings of Basilisks in Britain for at least four hundred years.'

The bright white wand had given him pause in the shop, but that was because of the gravity in which it had been presented to him. He'd hadn't really understood just how important what Ollivander had said to him was.

That basilisk mentioned in that book, was the same basilisk that was a part of the wand he held in his hand.

The Basilisk, like the other three creatures Ollivander had mentioned, was a completely magical creature, unlike an owl or a raven, however, unlike the others, what muggles (non-magical people) had written about it, was completely wrong, but for Harry, that wasn't what mattered.

The Basilisk was beyond rare, and controllable only by parselmouths, which were witches and wizards, who, like him, could talk to snakes, command them with words alone, and they were apparently extremely rare.

You couldn't learn to become a parselmouth, you had to be born one.

You have to be born special…

You have to be born powerful…

That last bit of information had caused him to preen slightly, just knowing that he was more special than others made his chest swell with even more self-pride.

Yes, he knew it was crass of him, it was even arrogant, and to some people, he knew that he would still be called a freak, even in the new world he had just discovered.

But it was a power that could never be taken away from him.

It was a power that was his.

And seemingly his alone.

He ran his eyes over the stick of power in his hand, from how the thin tip led into the main part of the body, getting slowly wider, as the wand grew in length, inch by inch, until the upper part of the wand twisted together, indenting slightly, forming a loose grip that was an exactly perfect fit for his hand, with the appearance of the wood wrapping around itself, until the stark white wood came to a slightly round-pointed stop.

And what he hadn't noticed in the shop, was that the head of the wand had been carved to resemble the sleek, elegant head of a snake.

Ollivander had also told him that, because of the materials used, his wand was powerful, maybe even more dangerous and unstable than other wands, but it could definitely be more independently powerful than most, and now, he had to be a better wizard for it.

If he wanted to reach his full potential, then he truly had to be better than the rest.

He wanted to be truly worthy of the wand in his hands.

Of his wand.

He was proud of his wand - he would not hide from it, even if people would fear the creature it came from.

He would not.

He was going to be better than that… he was going to be greater than that.

And he wanted to show the world, just how truly great he was going to be.

Great? No! Be the greatest! You will accept absolutely nothing but the best from yourself!

Or you should just quit now…

Yes… he would be the greatest… the greatest of all time in fact… second to none.

Spoken of in the same breath as some of the most famous wizards of all time - people even muggles had heard of, people like Merlin and Morgan le Fay.

Harry Potter would one day be known - worldwide - as the single greatest sorcerer who had ever lived.

And with that sole thought at the forefront of his mind, he dived back into his trunk, pulling out his copy of The Standard Book of Spells: Grade One, he turned to the very first page of chapter one:

Magic: A Basic Theory

Feeling nothing but truly determined towards his life's new goal, which he was most definitely starting with today, he began to read.

As he had what was left of the entire month of August to get through, Harry decided that the best place to start with starting his seven years' of wizarding training, would be to undergo a thorough read through of all of his school textbooks first, and then move onto studying all of the extra ones he'd bought.

He joined his Aunt, Uncle, and Dudley, (when he wasn't at a friend's house), for three meals during the day, where they ate in a mostly uncomfortable silence, although on some days, which were admittedly better than the others, they all just decided to ignore him completely.

However, that was completely fine with him, as whenever he was away from his room, he found he always wanted to get back to his new areas of study as quickly as was possible, regardless of appearing rude to the three of them.

What was unfortunate, was that there was an extremely large warning on the opening cover of The Standard Book of Spells: Grade One, which was repeated exactly six times over the course of that same page, and had told him, in absolutely no uncertain terms, that it was illegal for anyone under the age of seventeen to cast magic outside of school, except in the times of 'the most extreme of emergencies', so his time before he went to Hogwarts was all spent reading about every aspect of the particular piece of magic he was studying, before he made his own notes on his new parchment, written using his new eagle feather quill.

He wasn't sure why Hogwarts students couldn't use paper and pens - surely someone in the wizarding world knew what they were - but the quill was much trickier to use than a normal ballpoint, so he made sure that he spent some additional time each evening making sure that his quillmanship was up to the same standard he expected from his penmanship.

After devouring every word in Goshawk's first work, and found that he could understand and learn from the book with an ease that quite frankly shocked him, he moved onto his defensive spellbook, and repeated the process, before he moved onto his charms and transfiguration books, followed by reading up on potions and herbology. He'd spent quite a bit of time with his ingredients book, reading about how to best use some of the ingredients, and how they reacted with others, and that was before he gave into his curiosity and looked up Basilisk venom under poisons and antidotes, but all that was written told him that the venom was extremely rare, with no known cure.

I probably should've been able to guess that.

He liked reading about different ways to get the different and strange ingredients ready, and how they would react with each other. In a way, it reminded him of cooking, and while he despised the act of cooking, he found the idea of learning how potions worked enjoyable. The only downside to the methods he could see, was that everything needed to be prepared differently, with differing levels of skill and care, and in a different manner depending on what was being created.

He was looking forward to his first lesson.

All of his lessons really.

He read his other books with the same level of diligence, even though he didn't find them quite as exciting, committing everything he could to memory, and everything of note to parchment. A History of Magic was the dullest read of his schoolbooks, but it still gave him a wealth of information on the stories and background of his new culture, and how some of the things had come to be, which he had really enjoyed.

And then he finally had time to move onto the other books he had bought.

He only had four days left before term would start at his new school, so he selected two of them, and decided to divide his time between reading them - Hogwarts: A History, and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts - as well as making sure that he practiced his writing with a quill, and that he went over some of the basic wand manoeuvres.

He learned a great deal about the origin of Hogwarts from his first book, as well as some of its most noted alumni, but what he took away from the first few chapters was that he would undergo a 'sorting' of some description when he arrived at school - the book seemed to be irritatingly vague about what that included on purpose, and he was also certain he had heard the term before - and after that, he would then be put into one of the four school houses, all four of which were named after one of the school's founders.

Each house had produced their own famous witches and wizards, and each house represented different traits, both good and bad, from intelligence and wit, but lack of action, to over-action and boldness, but with a reputed lack of forethought.

Harry really wanted to know where he was going to end up for all seven years of his magic schooling.

Trying his best to ignore the slight pang of irritation that he would have to wait to find out, and with only three days left until he left for Hogwarts, he decided to make a start on the first few chapters of his second book.

'The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts', was a book dedicated to detailing the history of the most notable evil sorcerers, and the various Dark Lords, that had sprung up throughout history.

He was surprised to discover that a Dark Lord was actually a title awarded to an individual, if he fulfilled three different characterizations.

Firstly, a Dark Lord had to have a speciality in magic that was deemed to be 'dark' - the book didn't actually specify how magic was considered dark, or what dark magic was - as well as having accumulated a personal following, thus fulfilling the 'Dark' and 'Lord' parts of the phrase.

The third and final part, was that he (or she - a Dark Lord could, despite the word 'Lord', be a she) had to have their goals and ambitions oppose those of those considered the 'Light', and not align with those considered to be the 'Grey'.

Idly, he wondered if that meant a Dark Lord of centuries past wouldn't be considered one if he or she were brought forward in time.

The surname 'Potter', he discovered, (formerly Potterer), was written about in the book's chapters on familial alignments, under families that were traditionally considered to be 'Light' families.

He was also surprised to find that the latest Dark Lord was the very same He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, also known as You-Know-Who, (and weren't they just terrible aliases), that Ollivander had mentioned when he'd bought his wand. The author of the book had gone out of his way to purposefully not write the name of the Dark Lord anywhere in the main body of the text, only mentioning that it was considered taboo to say the name aloud.

Cowards.

He persevered through the text, until he'd finally found the actual name, it was there, hidden away, written on one of the book's very back pages; it wasn't actually in the main text, but included as part of the appendix, written in the tiniest legible front possible, was the single most feared name in the history of the wizarding world, and as the words rolled through his mind, he vowed to himself that he would never flinch away from it:

The Dark Lord Voldemort

Bright and early, on the morning of September 1st, the Dursley Family awoke to find that Harry was already dressed in his school trousers, shirt, tie and sweater, along with his new black, dragonhide boots, though he resolved not to tell them that part, even as he tried not to groan in delight at the comfort charms they came imbued with, as they seemed to massage his feet as he walked. He prepared a full English breakfast for them, making sure to keep them in a good mood, as he helped himself to eggs on toast and then went to load his trunk into the boot of the Dursley's family car, ready to depart a full fifteen minutes before he was expected to be ready to leave.

In what he thought was the wisest move he could've made that morning, Harry had decided to leave one of his cloaks on top of his things inside the trunk, so that he could put it on before he arrived at school, but after he'd left his relatives behind in the muggle world.

It was in one of the most uncomfortable silences that Harry had ever been a part of, in which, both he and his Uncle Vernon drove, straight from the Dursley's house in Little Whinging, Surrey, without stopping, to Kings Cross Station, right in the heart of London.

In the heart of muggle London, where he would enter the wizarding world.

He was more grateful than he had ever been before, for the invention of the radio, which made their forced silence that bit less unbearable than it could've been.

It was at exactly twenty five minutes past ten that the two of them pulled up to the station, with Vernon gliding into a car parking space with a grace that he certainly didn't possess on his own two feet, before the ignition was turned off, and the two of them wasted no time, both of them immediately getting out of the car, desperate to spend as little time together as possible.

His uncle unlocked the boot of the car with a slightly audible 'click' of the key fob, before he disappeared, leaving Harry to pull open the boot, and now, without having the additional benefit of there being a featherweight charm cast upon it - he made a mental note to learn how to cast that particular spell as soon as he could - he fought, in an attempt to get the weight of his trunk out of the car. He turned to place it as gently as he could on the floor, without dropping it, only to instead place it on the luggage cart that appeared in front of him.

Behind the cart, just letting go of the handle, was his uncle, half-hiding his face under his hat, wearing what he no doubt thought passed for a blank face. Feeling brave, especially as he was leaving the country in just under a half hour, Harry muttered a barely audible, "Thanks".

Vernon's near silent, "You're welcome", was almost missed by him, but he caught it, even as he watched the vein in his rather thick neck bulge, formed by the utter discomfort at his current position.

As was expected from a reasonable adult chaperone, his uncle accompanied him inside the station and towards the train platforms, stopping at the very edge of platform one, turning to regard him, his pig-like eyes narrowing, caught somewhere between displeasure at simply being in the same space as his nephew, and the sheer relief of having him leave, not having to see for an entire school year, as he went off to a boarding school somewhere up in the north, deep in the highlands of Scotland.

Even if it was a school for 'freaks and crackpot old fools'.

"So, I take it you know where your platform is then?"

His eyebrows raised at his uncle's attempt at civility, before Harry meekly responded, "Yes, Uncle Vernon"

His uncle nodded to himself, assuring himself that he'd played the part of a good guardian enough for one day, "Are we to expect you home at Christmas time then?"

"I've read that the school", he'd learned not to call it Hogwarts in front of any of his relatives, "offers the choice of staying there for the Christmas and Easter holidays. I thought it'd be best if I stayed, so that I could learn a bit about holiday traditions"

They both knew he was lying at that last part, and they both knew that the relief was visible on the older man's face.

And they both chose not to comment on it.

"Very well then Harry", he said his nephew's name as if it caused him great pain, but now that he'd started, he had to keep up the pretence in public, "Your aunt and I will see you at the end of the school year. Now, I must be on my way to work. Goodbye"

"Goodbye, Uncle Vernon"

Having been one of the very first students to arrive on the platform, breathing heavily, not having quite believed the book when it had told him he had to walk into a wall. To his partial surprise, Harry found himself uninjured and in one piece, and after taking a moment to register his shock, he wasted no time in quickly choosing a compartment for himself near the very back of the train.

He had his trunk was away in one of the overhead luggage compartments, only after he had taken out his wand holster, replacing it on his arm, and donned one of his robes over the top of his school uniform, liking the way the black fell around him, warm and cosy, draped like a cape.

It made him feel very cool… powerful even.

He was just glad no one was there to watch as he knocked his glasses off of his own face, and had to grope around blindly on the floor, in his attempt to find them.

That, he acknowledged, would've made a spectacular first impression upon his new, potential housemates and peers.

After confirming that his wand holster was securely attached to his wrist, he gave it a quick flick of the wrist, and confirmed that his wand was still there as it instantly slid into his hand, before he let it fall back into the holster, where it would remain, waiting on him to call it.

Happy that his personal belonging were now safely and securely stowed away, he pulled down the window shutters, making it obvious that that the compartment was in use, and decided to step back onto the platform.

It was a decision he'd come to, both, relish and regret, just ten minutes later.

In the meantime, he decided to use the spare time he had to people-watch.

With just fifteen minutes left before the train was scheduled to depart, apparently it left at exactly eleven o'clock, regardless of whether you were ready or not, the platform was considerably busier than it had been when he arrived, as witches and wizards of all ages seemed to just appear out of thin air, some with their children clinging to them as they span into existence. He bit his lip as several of them staggered, and some of them even fell down completely.

Really though, he refused to actually laugh aloud, just because a few people fell over, for people who probably do this all the time, you'd expect them to be better coordinated.

He caught sight of the colour platinum, and after straining his neck slightly to check, he saw that it was indeed Draco Malfoy - the same boy he'd spoken to in Madam Malkin's shop - with the man who was obviously his father, and a rather beautiful older woman, who Harry had to assume was his mother.

The three of them looked just as refined as Malfoy Senior had on the day he'd first seen them, and he was pleased to note that Draco was similarly attired as Harry himself was, though he had an element about him that Harry quite simply couldn't replicate.

Regardless though… I did say he had to have good taste.

Just need to remember… your look is what displays you to others, and what your opinion of yourself is… casual luxury shows wealth, which fools consider to be a form of power… a lack of care for your appearance shows disinterest and disrespect to proper wizarding traditions… and a powerful wizard must always look the part.

The powerful are always the ones that have to lead by example…

He was interrupted from the thoughts running through his head by the arrival of someone new, who managed to draw the attention of nearly everyone else on the platform to him.

Clamping down as hard as he could on his anger, he smothered it deep inside himself, squashing out its flames and turning them to tiny embers, as he allowed his blank expression, followed by his best charming smile, to slide over his face, earning him a few small smiles of greeting from the passers-by who noticed him, and as the whispers on the platform grew louder, so did his irrational urge to break something, even with the stinging pain in his palms.

A quick check showed he had clenched his fists, and his nails were digging into them, so he took a deep breath to relax himself.

One of the fireplaces along the wall had flared up, lighting the immediate area around it with bright green flames, and out of the verdant embers stepped a complete family of three. It was that, which had drawn everyone's attention, even as, what he assumed was, a family of seven red heads had appeared the same way Harry had, with seven people walking through the magical barrier in the span of a few seconds.

He wondered why nobody on the outside ever seemed to notice people walking through the solid brick pillar wall.

He filed that idea away to study later, if his schooling left him enough time.

The red headed family of seven greeted the familial trio warmly, with the two men, obviously the fathers, shaking hands, and some of the children exchanging fist-bumps and high-fives, while a young girl hid behind what Harry assumed was supposed to be her mother's skirt.

It looked more like a loose rag to him.

And he had experience with wearing loose rags.

Together, they all moved as a combined group of ten, as they all made their way towards the front of the train, which was about to take them straight past the Malfoy family, and the small group of ten or so people that had assembled around them, as they all seemed to know each other on friendly terms.

They would've all been completely fine, if the smallest one of the redheaded boys hadn't turned to say something to Draco, which then served to prompt an immediate argument between the two of them, which in turn almost immediately pulled in their fathers, both joining their sons in a conflict that was quickly escalating.

The inclusion of the fathers, almost immediately caused their wives to be pulled in, both of whom seemed torn between assisting their husbands in the defence of their child, and not being the ones to cause a scene in a very busy, very public train station, on what was, undoubtedly, one of the busiest days of the year.

Their decision was, however, made for them when several of the other children attempted to make their presences known, which just seemed to escalate things again.

From his spot in the shadows, he laughed at the absurdity of it all.

These were fully-grown and supposedly mature adults, arguing with children.

The only person not seeming to be involved was the oldest redheaded boy who was already dressed in his school robes, which had a golden trim and red stitching, proudly displaying the emblem of Gryffindor house on the breast pocket.

Deciding that now would be as good of a time as any to make himself known, not that he was completely sure he wanted to, and to make the best impact he could, he stepped away from the pillar he'd been using as a partial cover, where he was half-hidden in shadow, and made his way over to where the argument was beginning to turn extremely loud.

He stepped across the platform, his light footsteps near silent against the platform's natural stone flooring, walking with his head held high, and ensuring his perfectly neutral expression was still very firmly in place.

Malfoy Senior was the one who saw him first, eyes widening first, and then narrowing as they honed in on his new school robes, no do doubt surprised to see the lack of family house crest in place of the Hogwarts school one, and recognising him from his former state of appearance in Madam Malkins.

The short break that it took for the older man to notice him was what it took for Draco to spot him, with the others in his group following his attention at different speeds - the last two to do so, were also the two largest people, whose rotund faces said that they were his age, despite their large stature.

It was only when the entirety of their group was somewhat subdued, that the members of the other party began to turn around, bringing their attention on to him.

And leaving their behinds vulnerable to a direct attack now from their opponents…

The first to spot him was the red headed boy dressed in his school robes, who wore a bright red and gold shield-shaped badge, emblazoned with the letter 'P', which he knew was an identifier for one of the Hogwarts School Prefects. He walked straight past him, also catching glimpse of a pair of twins, another redheaded boy that seemed to be his age, and the girl he'd spotted earlier, who still seemed to be trying to hiding behind her mother, though she was no longer clutching the skirt.

He ignored all of them.

They weren't important enough for him to bother with.

Not yet, anyway.

The red headed parents were the next two to spot him, and they, in turn, pulled the other family of three around, tugging on their sleeves, and taking just long enough for a series of glares to be fired off at the others, even as he stepped up towards them.

It was only the well-practiced use of his 'mask' that prevented him from laughing at their reactions to his appearance.

As it was, he completely revelled in watching them, enjoying every sweet second of realisation dawning on their faces.

The boy dropped his wand, which he'd apparently drawn during the argument, and a quick glance out of the corner of his eye told him that Draco had also done the same, though he managed to keep hold of his. Harry watched on, still feeling amused, as the boy's eyes flickered constantly between himself his father stood next from him, mouthing words to himself that Harry simply didn't care about enough to try and translate.

The older woman gave a startled gasp, her face losing most of its colour as she took sight of him, her already naturally pale complexion blanching, as it began to resemble the same kind of white associated with sheets. Her hands flew up to her mouth, moving so quickly that she seemed to jump off of the floor as it happened.

But it was the older man's reaction that was his favourite.

After a moment's hesitation, he simply took half a step forwards, muttering a barely audible "It is you…", even as his face attempted to turn the same shade of chalk white as his wife's.

He kept his smile in place, it was one he enjoyed using both in reality and as a mask; it was the one that actually made the people he liked in his life feel happy to see him, but he didn't need a mirror to know what he looked like. He could feel that instead of its usual warmth, and sunlight, his smile radiated a cold, glittering ice, even as he kept his tone unfailingly polite as he addressed them.

"Why hello there mother, father… brother… how are you? It's been quite a while, hasn't it?"

Chapter Text

' Sometimes you know you've made the right decision, simply because of how hard it is…'

-Sara J. Henry

Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Power

Part Five

Harry Potter & the Whispers of Desire

Chapter Five: A Tale of Two Brothers

Fighting the urge to shudder, Petunia turned her attention to her nephew, drawing in a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

" I'm… I'm going to tell you what happened when you were dropped off here ten years ago…"

A single scream echoed throughout the maternity ward at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, alerting everyone in the vicinity to the amount of pain the soon-to-be mother was in, as she lay in her hospital bed, trying to give birth to her child.

"That's it sweetheart… keep going… you're nearly there now"

"SHUT IT JAMES POTTER!" The husband flinched in complete fear at the tone of his wife's voice, even as she lay on a medical cot, nearing the end of her (so-far) eleven hour labour, "AND IF YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT COMING NEAR ME AGAIN AFTER THIS, I'LL HEX YOU SO BLOODY HA- AHH-"

She clamped down on the scream of pain, and clenched her teeth, involuntarily letting out a low, guttural moan, pushing against the pain as yet another contraction tore its way through her body. She held it out as long as she could, not even hearing as the healer - midwife - whatever she was supposed to be called, counted breaths for her, before her exhaustion caused her to slump against the edge of the cot, feeling completely drained.

Her labour had been going on for, well she'd lost track of how long it had been, but it had been far too long in her opinion. In all honestly, she'd lost track of the time hours ago, which was around the time when she had decided that she was never ever going to put herself through this again.

Magic could do a lot of things, some truly amazing things that muggles could only dream of, but it couldn't help her with this, apparently.

Once the labour had truly started in earnest, it had seemed to drag on forever - something which Lily Potter really did not appreciate.

"It's okay-" her husband murmured into her ear, as he took up gently massaging her shoulders like he had earlier; she absolutely had no idea how he had managed to keep calm and composed and supportive at the later stages of her pregnancy, even though he - one of the Ministry of Magic's most promising young aurors - had briefly fainted earlier at the sight of her blood.

"-you're doing great"

She sincerely doubted that.

She felt as though she had made absolutely no progress in the last… what was it? Half an hour? An hour?

An entire day?

It felt as though the only thing she'd accomplished to do over the last dozen hours, was managing to get herself feeling completely and utterly exhausted.

She could feel her next contraction coming - at this stage, she barely had any time to rest between them - so she clenched her eyes tight shut and strained her muscles, gripping the thing that was the closest to her, attempting to crush it with her hand - it might have been James' hand - in her pain, she couldn't be completely sure, but if it was, it seemed her husband had enough sense left in him not to complain about it.

She kept pushing through the pain, barely bothering to pay any attention to managing her breathing patterns, or anything else, only the feeling of her baby's head slowly inching downwards within her registering in her mind.

When her latest contraction passed, she leant her head against the wall once again, closing her eyes in relief. She could sense that both the doctor and James were talking to her, but she just couldn't make out their words. All of her attention was utterly limited to what was happening inside of her body at the moment; she had absolutely zero mental capacity left to pay attention to anything else.

But before she could manage to gain any successful rest, the cycle started over again, and she was pushing once more, leaning slightly forward, gripping her own legs. Again, she felt the baby make some progress, but the end of the road still seemed impossibly far away.

"You can do this", she heard a voice cut through the haze of pain that covered her consciousness, followed by a press of lips against her temple, "you're Lily Potter and you're completely amazing, remember?"

At this point, she really doubted that, but she really didn't have the energy to argue with him, even as she felt a dopey grin settle on her face, so she simply nodded, refocusing her attention to the incredible task at hand, once more breathing deeply.

Well, she more-or-less did, because as she was hit with a fresh set of contractions once again - making her feel as if she was being torn in half once more - she couldn't help but think why in the name of Merlin did she think going through the pain of childbirth was a good idea?

Why for Le Fay's sake, did any woman think this was a good idea?

And in that moment, she really wanted to curse her past self for being so naïve.

"You're almost there," her husband went on, bringing up a damp cloth to the back of her neck, trying to cool her down, "just a little bit longer now"

She wanted to argue with him, she really did - she wanted to have some stupid, petty argument with him, the kind they always had about who's turn it was to do the dishes, (she didn't care that they had house elves), and what type of toothpaste they should have in the house, and whether or not six weeks was 'too young' to teach their baby how to play quidditch - because he had absolutely no idea whether or not she was "almost there", because it was her body and not his, and really, he should have just kept his bloody mouth shut, for everyone's sake, but before she could have gotten a single word out in an attempt to hex him, or just go at it the muggle way and punch him on the nose, she was already feeling the need to push again.

And this time, it was different.

This time, it felt like it wasn't in vain.

Soon, she could feel a slight burning sensation, different than before - the tell-tale sign that the baby's head was just about come out.

"He's coming", she said in a hoarse whisper between her contractions, words shaking because of the sudden surge of excitement, and almost blindly grasping for his hand, "I can feel him"

"Yes, you're quite right", she heard the healer's voice clearly for the first time what felt like an eternity, brimming with excitement, "he's crowning, he's almost here. Just one more big push. Can you manage to do that for me?"

Lily nodded, feeling filled to the brim with a newfound determination and energy.

She was almost there.

Almost there.

She could do this.

She was Lily Potter, she could definitely do this.

In the end, her one last push turned into three truly exhausting ones, but she couldn't care less about that, and then the fire was gone.

She could feel the baby - her baby - their baby - finally sliding out from between her legs, the tiny body slipping out almost easily once the head was out, which made her feel like she was somewhere between bliss and disgusting, and then she was instinctively reaching out, taking her new-born son into her hands.

And then, there he was.

He was tiny, he was; her slightly chubby and messy new-born resting on her chest, not crying anymore, just mewling softly, fidgeting against her skin; she rested her hand on the baby's head, almost completely bald, save from some dark wisps of hair on his head, and then the baby - their son - opened his eyes for the first time, and clenched and unclenched his tiny fist, and Lily was crying and laughing at the same time, craning her neck backwards to try and see if James could see this too, if he was witnessing this miracle too.

And then, somehow, in her slightly hazy focus, she knew that all of the pain, that all of the suffering (temporary as it was), was worth it, just to have him in their arms.

And then another contraction tore through her, causing her hands to shake, as she nearly dropped her son, who had to be rescued by James and his auror-trained reflexes. The haze of pain returned, blocking out everything else, but the medi-witches next words that stood out to her, even through her pain.

" Please, do remember that she's having twins"

Their oldest son was named Alexander Michael 'Alex' Potter, (Michael after Lily's father), who was born on the 31st July 1980, in the middle of the night, at exactly eleven fifty two. He was measured at just under twenty one inches, with a weight of approximately eight pounds and one ounce.

Their second son was named Hadrian James 'Harry' Potter, (James after his own father), and he was also born on the 31st July 1980. He was born just seven minutes after his older brother, at eleven fifty nine, just seconds before the clock struck midnight. He was measured in at just under twenty two and a half inches, and had a weight of approximately seven pounds and nine ounces.

Despite the fact that their sons were twins, it was made immediately clear, just by looking at them, that their two boys were not going to grow up to be identical.

Young Harry already had eyes that were the exact same shape of his mother's, even though they were blue, they had an inkling that the colour hadn't set in yet, and that they were sure to become the same shade of bright green as his mother's. Sat atop his head was a small patch of dark brown hair which already seemed to match the same mahogany shade of his father's, whilst little Alex had the exact same eyes as those of his father, both in shape and colour, almost looking like two tiny pools of milk chocolate, but the few tufts of hair on his head, were more of a reddish-brown than anything else, mixing the two colours of his parents together.

The two parents spent the next hour, arguing in hushed whispers over the respective godparents of their children, as they now had to decide between the four they had already chosen, who would be whose godfather and godmother.

James' best friend, Sirius Orion Black, was initially going to be the godfather to their son, and Alice May Longbottom was to be the godmother, as Lily was to her one day old son Neville. As they were in a time of war, they had also asked another of James' friends, Remus John Lupin, and another, newer, friend of theirs, Molly Muriel Weasley, to be the 'back-up' godparents.

Then they had discovered they were having twins.

They argued backwards and forwards, as they had been doing for months, in hushed whispers as to not disturb their sleeping children before they finally reached a decision they were both happy with.

Harry would keep Alice as his godmother, but Remus would be Harry's godfather, while Sirius would be godfather to Alex, with Molly as his godmother.

When it was finally decided, the four godparents, James' parents, their spouses and the final member of James' old school circle, Peter Pettigrew, entered the room. Remus looked hilariously uncomfortable with holding baby Harry, a breath away from panicking even with Alice's directions, as she was sat down holding her own, one day old son, Neville Francis Longbottom, while Sirius was stood, hovering, like a bundle of nervous energy, over James' shoulder, as the male Potter introduced Alex to his grandparents.

Despite the war, the pain, despite everything; one thing was abundantly clear to everyone else in the room.

Both new parents loved both of their children very, very much.

Harry was the first of the two children to show the signs of accidental magic, beating his elder brother to it by two days.

The boys were all just seven months old when it happened.

They were all having a small get together to mourn the passing of James' parents - by inviting just their little close-knit family, which had expanded from just the other three Marauders, to include the trio of Longbottoms.

Harry, Alex and Neville were sat in the boys' playpen together, the thee of them throwing around plush balls and squares between them, all under the careful viewership of the adults, while they sat and discussed Dumbledore's new plan for both families to go into hiding.

The Potters were going to retreat to their cottage in Godric's Hollow, where they would then be hidden away under the Fidelius Charm.

The Longbottoms would be kept safe so long as they remained at Longbottom Manor, as Frank had been named Lord Longbottom, Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Longbottom, which meant that they both now had complete control of the Manor's protective wards via their Lord's and Lady's rings.

It was a smart solution, but not one they could copy as James hadn't yet been named Lord Potter, Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter. That couldn't happen until he was sworn into his house and house seat, which could only be done in front of the complete and assembled seats of the Wizengamot, which was a far too dangerous thing to try and do while they were at the height of war.

The Dark Lord was gaining more and more power by the day, both through the battles he fought and won, and the various political movements being put forward and fronted by his most loyal followers, who now controlled a significant portion of votes within the court and only seemed to be gaining more as the war dragged on.

He controlled nearly all of the dark seats, almost a third of those houses that considered themselves 'grey', and somehow, he had even managed to cinch three of the seats that belonged to families that were traditional seen as belonging to the 'light'.

They were diligently keeping an eye on the children - Remus and Sirius were especially vigilant, despite their attempts at feigning nonchalance - so when Harry began grabbing for the plush wolf that his favourite Uncle Moony had bought for him, they all looked on, half-expecting, half-fearing tears as he looked up at it, where it was sat on the mantelpiece. They watched as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, reaching out even as Remus moved to get it for him and summoned the wolf straight into his grabbing hands.

There was a brief moment of pause, the seven month old boy looking completely stunned with himself, before he was lifted bodily into the air by his father, and span around towards their extended family, letting loose a cacophony of delighted giggles, before he was taken into the arms of his mother.

The other two children, watching it happen with their uncomprehending eyes, began to make noises of displeasure, prompting their fathers to do the same to them, before the room was filled with a cacophony of giggles, as all three of them enjoyed being doted on.

And exactly one week before they all had to go into hiding, all was well within the Potter and Longbottom households.

"It has finally happened, My Lord"

"What, exactly, has happened?"

"The Potters. They are hiding under the Fidelius Charm-"

"This is what you bring me? I already knew this-"

"-but My Lord, there's-"

"You dare interrupt me!? Crucio!"

The others watched on in thinly veiled amusement as the Dark Lord held the disgusting creature, who only dared call himself one of their number in secret, under the Cruciatus Curse, taking delight in his screams of pain.

He clambered back to his feet once the pain was lifted, his momentary loss of coordination causing him to slip on the hem of his black robes, which served to prompt a fresh round of snickers. All of which were then immediately silenced by a single glare from the Dark Lord as his subordinate stuttered his apologies to his feet.

"My… you have my most… my most humble apologies… My Lord"

"Tell me that you have actual news, before I just decide to end your miserable existence altogether"

"The Potters have made me their secret keeper My Lord"

His voice came out in a rush, so the Dark Lord stayed his hand as he deciphered what he had been told, before he leant forward on the chair he had fashioned into a throne, in a rare display of shock, as he ran his eyes over his servant, who knew his master was searching his soul for the truth.

"Excellent", he turned his gaze on his servant, "excellent work... you have indeed served me well Wormtail, now tell me, where can I find them?"

"My Lord", he swallowed, "you will find that the Potter Family lives at the Potter's Cottage, which can be found in Godric's Hollow"

He laughed, in his high cruel laugh, as the reds of his eyes flashed in triumph, "Tell me, Dumbledore's foolish Order has a meeting tonight does it not?"

"They do, My Lord"

"Good… Fenrir!"

A much larger individual shuffled forwards, bowing deeply, even as his black eyes and fangs glistened with the promise of what was about to come, "Yes, My Lord"

"Assemble a team, and take only the strongest members of your pack. Tonight, you will all dine in Diagon Alley"

He salivated at the very thought, "I will see to it at once, My Lord"

From his position on his throne, the Dark Lord stood, as he scanned his minions, his power running over them all, "The rest of you will create distractions wherever you believe you can do the most damage, it matters not where; the more random the location, the better it will be. I, and I alone, will journey to Godric's Hollow this evening, and there, I will eliminate the last threat to my power"

The Dark Lord smiled in satisfaction as his followers cheered and hollered in victory.

Tonight… I simply win.

He broke through the lock on the door with nothing but a simple "Alohamora", not even one of the more powerful locking charms a Charms Mistress or Junior Auror would have easy access to, before striding straight into the front room of the house with a smile on his face.

What overconfident fools… thinking they could hide from Lord Voldemort with a single charm; they should have known that Lord Voldemort knows all, that there is no magic strong enough to stop him…

The house's single adult for the evening, a lone witch, one barely out of Hogwarts, a Marlene McKinnon, if his spy's intel was to be believed, was all there was to stop him. A part of him valued the loss of such potential, a half-blood cut down in her prime, but another part of him almost laughed at her sheer stupidity.

Aiming his wand at her, even as she scrambled to use her own, her own power may as well have been a mere squib's when compared to his own.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of green light filled the room and ended her life before she ever even managed to get a firm grip on her wand's handle.

A ringing cry filled the air.

Stepping over her rapidly cooling corpse, he moved towards the source of the noise, to the place where the screeching wails of the children could be heard the ooudest.

A silent blasting hex tore the door off of the wall, splintering it beyond any non-magical repair.

And Lord Voldemort crossed the threshold to the nursery.

The wailing increased for one of the children, as it took in the tall, dark stranger that was now stood in their sleeping and play room, but the other brat grew silent, using its cot to help it stand up on its own two legs, silently staring at the intruder.

While one brat screeched in fear, the other stood, proud, and unafraid, with a look that made him feel, for the first time in decades, unsettled.

It was a look he'd once seen on himself.

He took in both children, eyeing them critically, casting a discrete charm, in an attempt to differentiate their natural magical cores, but the difference was minimal.

Both of them had the potential to become powerful, half-blooded wizards in the future, ones just like he himself was now.

It was truly a shame that there could be no potential weaknesses left to stop him.

It seemed almost a waste that he had to end both of them, but he was so close to his ultimate goal, and there could be no one left to stop him.

And both children were too potentially dangerous to allow either of them to be left alive.

He felt something akin to remorse stir inside him; in another life, he may have taken one of them - the one that had unsettled him - and raised him as his own heir, a Dark Prince to serve him with unwavering faith, but that was not to be.

Picking his first target, he raised his wand, aiming it square between the child's eyes, exhaling deeply, almost feeling something truly akin to a deep sadness.

It was truly a waste of magical blood.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The already destroyed door pieces were vanished completely, as the three of them strode boldly into the room, wands raised.

With the same thunderous expression he seemed to wear whenever he found himself called upon to face off against his former prized student, Albus Dumbledore stormed into the room, his wand held high, wand-tip lit as he sent off all of the most advanced revealing spells he knew, while physically scanning the toom for any sight of the enemy they may have missed.

He sent off several more lower-level revealing charms, the more obscure ones he knew, waiting to see if Voldemort had finally fallen victim to his own hubris, casting silently as he continued to scan the room, and when, and only when, he was satisfied that there was no more danger present, did he finally let the concerned parents fly straight past him and into the nursery.

It was utterly destroyed.

It took them all five minutes - the longest five minutes of Lily and James' lives - to clear enough of the debris to locate both of their boys, but when they did, it was more than clear to the old headmaster, exactly what it was that had happened in their absence.

Lord Voldemort had been defeated.

The Dark Lord was seemingly no more.

"Are you both absolutely sure that this is the right course of action for both, you and for them? That this is what you truly want?"

"We're… we are sure Albus. We think that it has to be this way"

The pair squirmed under the gaze of their old headmaster, whose gaze was filled with a mixture of understanding and disappointment in them. The light glinted off his half-moon spectacles, as he sat in the sitting room of Potter Manor.

"I want it to be known to you both, that I do not - that I cannot approve of this course of action"

"We know that Headmaster, and while we do respect your opinion Sir, it is, in the end, our decision to make"

The near-century old wizard let loose a weary sigh, looking even older than he usually did, without the youthful joy that so-commonly adorned his features, "I know that James"

"It's just", Lily looked truly heartbroken at what they were proposing to do, "people will come after Alexander. If Harry no longer has his access to his magic, then we need him to be somewhere else. Somewhere where he can be easily protected. Somewhere where he can grow up and be safe"

"I am aware of that Lily"

"And we can't leave him with Remus or Alice", she pinched her up face in pain, "Sirius has no relation to him outside of very distant blood, and leaving him else would just raise too many questions that we can't answer right now. The situation's too difficult"

"So, it's off to your sister Petunia then? Once again, I have to say that I'm aware that the two of you don't exactly have a great history together"

"I know that Sir, but she's the only family I have left, and… if anything, I can say that I trust her to do the right thing. We were hoping you would be kind enough to leave him with some extra protections in place as well. We don't know anyone that can create protective wards as well as you can Sir"

He sighed again, he knew he was an old man - older than most, though not as old as most people thought - but today, he truly felt every year of his life, "Then, please allow me to be the one to take the boy to Petunia. I will explain things as best I can, put the protections in place, and hope that she sees the reason in what it is you wish to see done"

He was relieved to be done with it.

The Aunt and Uncle, despite their appearances, had been unfailingly polite hosts, even though he knew they were supressing the urge to throw him out of their home. In the end, they had agreed to the Potter's agreement, and he left their nephew in their care.

Voldemort would return in time, he knew this without any doubt in his mind, so he knew that he would have to be prepared, have to be ready for when that time came.

Young Harry would be safe with his muggle relatives, he had set up the most advanced blood wards he could whilst he was there, serving both, protect little Harry from any potential outside threats, and to protect the rest of the Dursley Family as well, from anything and anyone that might seek to do them harm.

He just wished it hadn't appeared to be so easy for James and Lily to choose between their children.

He stopped that train of thought, when he realised that really though, all he wanted for them was that they'd felt like they hadn't had to.

Stopping at edge of Privet Drive for a final moment, he looked back to the respectable house he'd left behind, taking in a final view of everything, from its perfectly mown lawn, to the immaculately cleaned cobbles, and tried to conjure up a small smile in farewell to a tony child, as he whispered, words disappearing into the night, "Good luck, Harry Potter"

He apparated away from Surrey, straight into the back of the Leaky Cauldron, suddenly feeling the desperate need for a double shot of firewhiskey. Ignoring the slight panging feeling in his heart, he looked on forlornly as all around him, people raised their glasses and mugs in gestures of salute and cheers of pure delight, which were echoed all around the country, the entirety of Wizarding Britain calling out in one breath:

"To Alex Potter! The Boy-Who-Lived!"

Petunia watched her nephew from where she was sat on the longer couch, his face unchanging as he took in everything that she had told him over the course of the last hour, slowly letting his mind process it all.

He hadn't moved once from his spot on the settee, sitting rigidly still in his seat, only blinking, with the occasional on and off scowling as she told her tale, slightly varying in intensity at the different parts she told.

He took a deep breath, his chest visibly shifting with the movement, "Is that everything, Aunt Petunia?"

She nodded, fighting the urge to go for another drink, as the boy seemed to be holding an entire debate inside his mind, while his voice was nothing but tranquil, even if she could see the tempered steel hiding behind his green eyes.

Her sister's eyes.

"So they're not dead"

It was a statement, not a question, but she decided to answer it anyways.

"No"

"They're both alive and well?"

"Yes"

"And I have a twin brother?"

"Yes"

"Older or younger?"

"Older, I think. I'm not sure. I never met him"

He exhaled, slowly, deeply, and she could see a shake of his hand, which she noticed, for the first time, was clenched in a tight fist, "You mentioned a school my parents went to. Will I be attending?"

She nodded once, "Your school letter should arrive on the morning your eleventh birthday"

"So, next week?"

She nodded, "Yes"

"And Alexander", he ground out the name, in an incensed manner that Petunia wasn't quite sure she could say was completely unfair, "will he be attending also?"

"Yes, I imagine he will be. You will collect your school supplies the Saturday after your birthday while Vernon, Dudley and I go shopping in London. There should be a bank account already set up in your name by your parents, despite everything"

"Is that all, Aunt Petunia?"

She fought back the urge to shudder at the outright, bland way her nephew was taking the news, but she could see his eyes, and despite his voice, they were intense; burning behind verdant irises.

The boy was a freak, no doubt about it, but this was… abnormal… even for one of his kind.

"Your uncle and I have decided to move you into the upstairs bedroom", at his still blank look, she decided to elaborate, "you're getting a bit big for that cupboard. We think it's time you moved out of it, and into something a little bigger"

"Alright", he met her gaze again, and she was startled to see that his eyes seemed to glow slightly, and she clamped down on another shudder, "will my parents need to come here when I get my letter?"

"They don't have to, but wouldn't you-"

"I don't want to see them"

Her head whipped up at that.

His voice was fast, and harsh, and cold - all things he generally wasn't. She might not be fond of the boy by any stretch of the imagination, and she knew Vernon disliked him outright, but they weren't stupid. She heard what the other adults said about him, and they knew that he was considered, and generally was, a well-mannered, polite and friendly little boy.

With all of this newfound hatred that he doesn't know what to do with.

She thought about arguing with him, but when he locked eyes with her firmly, she could see the storm swirling inside of them , remembered the stories that horrible boy had told her and Lily when they were little girls, and did the only thing she could in that moment.

She changed her mind.

"Okay then", oh, now she so hoped that she would be able to see Lily's face when she was told her second son didn't want to see her, "then Vernon and I won't make you"

"In that case then, goodnight Aunt Petunia"

"Goodnight"

After a moment's hesitation, he simply took half a step forwards, muttering a barely audible "It is you…", even as his face attempted to turn the same shade of chalk white as his wife's.

He kept his smile in place, it was one he enjoyed using both in reality and as a mask; it was the one that actually made the people he liked in his life feel happy to see him, but he didn't need a mirror to know what he looked like. He could feel that instead of its usual warmth, and sunlight, his smile radiated a cold, glittering ice, even as he kept his tone unfailingly polite as he addressed them.

" Why hello there mother, father… brother… how are you? It's been quite a while, hasn't it?"

Chapter Text

' I don't set out to offend or shock, but I also don't do anything to avoid it'

-Sarah Silverman

Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Power

Part Six

Harry Potter & the Whispers of Desire

Chapter Six: Coming Home

He looked on, enjoying the view and feeling both, completely amused and completely satisfied, as the three of them took in the sight of him. He savoured the raw shock of his reappearance registering on their faces, the shock slowly dawning on them as he addressed them, using the titles they had done nothing to deserve, nor in his eyes, would they ever be able to deserve them from him, and as they openly gaped at him like a bunch of fools, he took their dumbfounded silence as an opportunity to take in their appearances.

He could, rather unfortunately he supposed, see why he had been compared to his father by Ollivander during his trip into Diagon Alley. Quite a number of his physical attributes came from his father, as he shared a quite a bit of his physical appearance with the man.

Harry found though, much to his relief, that his own face was much thinner, no doubt due to the Dursleys, which gave his face a much more defined look. Their hair, as it was the exact same messy style, especially at the back, as was his brother's, and was the same hairstyle he had always been told made him look either 'cute', by some of the older women that worked at his old school, or 'unsightly', by the Dursleys, and anyone else who lived in and around Privet Drive - it was one of the few things they agreed upon. It was identical in every way, except for two - the length and colour. James and Alex's hair was longer, while Harry kept his to the bottom of his ears, theirs reached the top of their neck, and all three of them had a different colour. James' hair was a deep, mahogany brown; Alex's was more 'reddish', taking in more colour from their mother, whilst Harry's own hair, was a pure, glossy black.

He wasn't sure were the colour came from.

He had very little in common, physically, at least, with Lily Potter, except for the exact shape of their eyes. They both had the same eyes - which were the exact same shape as small almonds he'd once been told - though Harry's were hidden behind his wire-framed glasses, (another thing which irked him, once he realised that they were the same style that his father and brother were also wearing), and his own eyes were a brighter shade of green than that of his mother, one that he had often been told made him look older in certain moments.

And then, with his initial assessment of them out of the way, he turned his sights towards his dearest brother… Alexander.

The name left a bitter taste in his mouth.

The name of his brother.

His supposedly older brother.

The brother he never knew had even existed.

The brother that they had chosen over him.

And he was pleased to say that even though they were twins, the two of them looked nothing alike.

Alexander had the same, slightly larger build as James, and the same hair as both Harry and James, but unlike Harry, his appearance also had a lot of Lily in him.

Alex's eyes were all James, everything from the shape, to the exact same shade as brown, but his hair and face were a gentle mixture of both parents, his hair mixed the two colours, giving the boy a reddish-brown hue in the same messy style his father and Harry both had, while his face combined the strong, proud look that James held, with some of the more elegant features that Lily was made of. He had proudly worn the same arrogant smirk that his father had while they were arguing, until Harry had wiped it straight off a mere thirty seconds ago.

Other than the red and gold scarf around his neck, they even seemed to be dressed identically.

He gave them a pause long enough for Alex's wand to finish rolling across the floor, letting it come to a complete stop at his feet. He ignored Lily's gasp and muffled sob, even as James stepped forward slightly, his hand coming up as if to reach out to him, before he pulled it back, fighting to restrain himself.

Without breaking his stare, Harry used his right foot to nudge the fallen wand back across the floor, ignoring the dull 'clank' it made as it rolled, before Alex snatched it up off the ground, pulling it safely back into his grasp, even as Harry turned swiftly on his heel, intending to walk away, moving straight through their opposition and leaving them behind.

And he would have done, if someone hadn't moved, drawing his attention to them, as they stepped forward into his line of sight, and Harry felt a satisfied smirk stretch across his face.

"Hello Draco"

The other wizard's lips shifted into a matching smirk, as he stepped slightly away from his family, moving forward and offering his hand in greeting. Harry took it without hesitation, grasping it firmly with his own, and briefly shaking with a familiarity that made it seem as though they were simply two old friends meeting up at a train station.

"Hello again Harry", if they had bothered to look, both of them would've seen the shocked looks on the faces of their fathers, though Lucius Malfoy was much better at keeping his confusion hidden than James Potter was, clamping down on it as soon as he could and schooling his face into one of calm neutrality. As the two boys greeted each other, they missed the confused looks on the faces of the others around them, taking in the sight of two sons of two families that had despised each other for decades, interacting with what was almost a cordial friendship, "how has the rest of your Summer been?"

"I found mine to be… enlightening", he took a moment to watch the meaning behind his words register in the other boy's mind, as the young Malfoy nodded in what appeared to be his approval, "oh, I never did get to thank you for your fashion advice, did I? It was a great help to me whilst I was selecting my robes"

"I can see that", he made a show of giving Harry a once-over, who chuckled and gave a small twirl, even as Draco's smirk became a small grin, "and there's no need", his grin contorted into a sneer as his gaze shifted away from him, and Harry knew it was now aimed at one of the red heads over his left shoulder, "it's always good to see a real wizard dressed in proper wizarding attire", and then his gaze changed again, towards where Harry knew his 'family' were stood, "and it's always pleasure to give advice to those smart enough to take it"

There's a story there I don't know about.

I bet every galleon I have on me that there's a dozen of stories I don't know about.

Stop whining!

He was just about to leave Draco and return to his spot on the train when Draco's father stepped forwards, with his wife stood behind him just slightly, both of them dressed in plain black and silver robes, which still somehow, despite their apparent plainness and lack of adornments, seemed to be more refined and dignified than anything anyone else on the platform was wearing.

"Well, Draco", the drawl of Malfoy Senior's speech was much exaggerated this time around, than the one time he'd heard a few words of it inside of Madam Malkin's store, "aren't you going to introduce us to your new friend?"

"Of course father", he smiled apologetically at him, before turning back to Harry, "Harry, please allow me introduce my father, Lucius Malfoy, Lord of the Ancient House of Malfoy"

"A pleasure, Mister Potter", Lucius offered his gloved hand, and not wanting to appear rude, Harry shook it quickly, and firmly with a smile on his face, much to obvious displeasure of James Potter behind him, who clenched his fist at his side, before Lily, not wanting her husband to lose his temper in public, slipped hers into it, forcing his fist open, wrapping their fingers together, and grounding him to her.

"The pleasure's all mine Mister Malfoy. It's a bit of an honour", he watched as his blonde eyebrow rose, "the last time we spoke, Draco mentioned that Libra Malfoy, was your uncle, and who was the author-"

"Ah yes, Uncle Libra", Lucius ran a critical eye over him, "so that explains why you have such a proper bearing, and your rather exemplary manners. You have obviously read at least one of his books"

"I have Sir. I bought myself a copy of 'Social Etiquette and Customs', and I must admit, I found it to be must helpful and very instructive"

"That, Mister Potter, is all Uncle Libra would have wanted to hear. He did so hope that his works would better help the younger generations learn proper wizarding etiquette"

"Well, I'm pleased to say that he was indeed, most helpful Mister Malfoy, or is it supposed to be Lord Malfoy, I'm not certain"

"Lord Malfoy only needs to be used at formal functions and in writing. Mister Malfoy is quite acceptable, thank you"

The older man nodded as he spoke, his approval clear, before he allowed the small, nostalgic smile that had appeared to fade away; he took an audible breath, before allowing his wife to step around him, as she, also draped in finery of her own, offered her gloved hand to him as well, "Please, allow me to introduce my wife, this is Narcissa, the Lady of House Malfoy"

He took her hand by the fingers, and bent his neck to gently brush his lips across her two front, silk gloved knuckles, "A pleasure, Lady Malfoy"

If Harry had turned his head, he would've seen the other three Potters gaping at him, as Narcissa withdrew her hand and gave him an approving nod, with a smile of her own tugging at the corner of her lips.

Before anything further could be said, the train's whistle for the five minute warning went, startling them all slightly and moving them into action, as they started the panic to load the trunks into the carriages.

Thankful for the distraction, Harry used everyone's lack of focus to quietly slip away, moving past the Malfoy Family, he made his way back onto the nearest train car, feeling pleased with himself and slightly drained at the same time. His first meeting with his parents had gone almost exactly against how he'd planned it.

He'd imagined yelling and shouting, and tears - on their end, not his - not cold words and ignorance, but in the end, he was happy with the way everything had gone down.

He had managed to control himself - there were no loose emotions flying about - instead he'd kept calm, and instead of giving them his full attention, he'd managed to give it to three people that they seemed to hate more than anyone else on the platform.

He knew that that had to be more upsetting to them than having him yell at them.

It would've been such a waste of breath as well.

He'd been cordial with the members of House Malfoy, who were historically, a notorious 'Dark' family, in contrast to the Potters, who were supposed to be a 'Light' family.

And that was what would truly infuriate and upset them when they had time to think about it afterwards.

If only I could see their faces.

Yes, he was happy with the way everything had gone, and he kept that in mind as he made his way down the length of train, skirting around the other students who were milling about, and entering the very last car, which was still mostly empty, before he slipped into the train's final compartment, which he was glad to see was still empty other than him.

Not being tall enough to reach the overhead rack from the floor, he stood on the seat and reached up, into his trunk, before pulling out his book, Curses and Counter-Curses, and then stepping back down. He checked that he had locked the door, and then, settling himself into a seat, he waited for the train to move as he began to read from chapter one.

Half an hour later, he had just finished the first two chapters and had started the next, (Chapter Three: Expelliarmus - Disarming your Opponent), the first chapter had been a lesson on intent and covered the key aspects of spell foci, and the second was an overview of what magical defence was all about. He was shocked to see that the subjects weren't covered in any of his school textbooks, aside from a brief mention in 'The Standard Book of Spells: Grade One', and the second chapter had covered the correct way to hold and store a wand, both when in a duel and when not in use, (he was glad to see he had been doing it right so far), when he was interrupted by a knock on the compartment door.

He decided to ignore it and continue with his reading.

He'd read a further two lines before he heard the knocking again.

He decided to ignore it, hopefully someone would get the message, only for there to be a third set of knocks again.

Exhaling, he snapped the book shut, dropping it on to the seat next to him, and moved towards the door, tugging on the string at the bottom of the blind, and letting it fly to the top, allowing him to see who was stood on the other side.

And he was looking into the dark brown eyes of another boy his age.

The boy was dark skinned, with high cheekbones, and slightly slanted eyes that were the same colour as a rich milk chocolate. He was, like Harry, already dressed in his school robes despite the fact that they had another four-to-five hours until they were supposed to arrive at Hogwarts.

Now feeling curious, he opened the door, and found that there was also a trunk on the floor next to the boy's feet.

"I'm really sorry to bother you, but would you mind if I sat in here? Everywhere else I've looked so far appears to be full"

His voice was slightly higher pitched than most other boys he knew, as though he was used to looking down his nose at people, and it mixed with his jovial accent to give him a voice to match, as though those below him were amusing in their lives. He ran an evaluating eye over him, as the boy did the same to him, before Harry stepped back and motioned for him to come in.

He pulled his trunk in, lifting it to stow in the overhead luggage rack, before taking a seat opposite him, leaning forward and offering his hand, "I'm Blaise by the way. Blaise Zabini"

His face didn't give it away, but he knew that the name 'Zabini' wasn't one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, nor was it listed as one of the houses to be granted an upgrade in status in the last century, and yet, from the robes he was wearing, it was clearly a name that had plenty of money behind it.

Taking what could be prove to be a great risk to him later on, he threw caution away as he leant forward and grasped the hand firmly with his own.

"My name is Hadrian Potter", he gave that a moment to sink in, eyes widening as the boy nodded, "but my friends call me Harry"

He smiled, "Well then Harry, tell me", the boy leant forward with a twinkle in his eye, "do you, by chance, know how to play exploding snap?"

"Exploding snap?"

And just like that, on a magical train, a half hour outside of central London, a friendship was born.

Harry and Blaise spent the next few hours playing exploding snap, while Blaise 'educated' Harry on some of the things that he hadn't learnt about in his books.

Quidditch was the only real wizarding sport in Britain, and when he confessed that he didn't know what it was, Blaise took great offence on behalf of himself, and everybody else he knew, before he proved himself to be something of a fanatic, as he proceeded to spend an entire hour giving him a thorough overview of the game, including the normal rules, a few of the weirder ones he liked, and why the Tutshill Tornados were the best team in the League, most of which went straight over Harry's head.

Blaise loved to play the game when he could, but only as a chaser. He thought that the keeper position was too boring to play, the beaters had too much work to do, always fighting against the bludgers, and the being the seeker would ruin his hair, which was brushed, very finely, in a sweeping style across to the side, casting a dark wave over the top of his head.

It hadn't taken him long to figure out that Blaise was very vain about his appearance, given that he kept checking his reflection in the glass window whenever he thought Harry wasn't looking.

As the train's trolley lady had reached them first, Blaise had loaded them up with two of everything, and decided to teach Harry about 'real' sweets, because the muggle ones were dull, tasteless, and classless.

That was when he realised that Blaise was also a bit of a snob.

I could certainly do worse for a friend.

You could use him for that kind of knowledge… and he would certainly be useful for helping you become more distinguished. Imagine it… with all his taste and knowledge of the wider world… he would be a powerful ally for you.

Shaking his head clear of his thoughts, he snatched the chocolate frog from where it had leapt into the air, taking a quick bite if it as he took a good look at the card that came with it.

Albus Dumbledore.

His new headmaster.

He read the back of the card, no longer surprised when the portrait disappeared, as Blaise had told him that he had 'other places to be'. He had Blaise tell him what he knew about their headmaster, after all, his defeat of the Dark Lord Grindelwald was legendary in the wizarding world, with an entire section of The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts being dedicated to the final battle between them, before Dumbledore imprisoned Grindelwald, locking him away inside of Nurmengard - Grindelwald's own prison.

The two boys worked their way through the rest of the sweets - Blaise was kind enough to give Harry the card from his frog, Agrippa, so that he could start his own collection - and Blaise taught him a bit about each one, including Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, which grew to make enormous, colour-changing bubbles, Ice Mice, which caused people to squeak as they were eaten, much to the two boy's amusement, and Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, a worldwide staple that made him lose his appetite after he ate a rotten fish flavoured one.

They kept a look out of the window, as the sky changed from a pale blue to a blue that bordered on black, as bright day sky eventually became the early evening light, and the Hogwarts Express rolled into Hogsmeade Station.

They listened to their order given from the enchanted megaphones in each car, and were relieved to find that they didn't have to take their trunks with them, as they would be collected from the train directly. They stayed long enough for Harry to put his book back in his trunk and grab his cloak from the top of his things, before following some of the older students onto the platform.

Everyone was robed in their school clothes, the other young ones, like he and Blaise, were only wearing plain black and grey, whist the older students wore different colours on their robes, which he recognised from his reading of Hogwarts: A History.

There was the distinguished red and gold of Gryffindor, the solid yellow and black of Hufflepuff, the shimmering blue and bronze of Ravenclaw, and the shining green and silver of Slytherin.

"Firs' Years!"

A great bellow sounded down the platform, "Firs' Years! Over 'ere!"

Harry and Blaise turned their head towards where the yelling was coming from, and found that the source of the noise was a man - the biggest man Harry had ever seen - who towered over everyone else there with ease, and was at least eight feet tall, with a head of thick, bushy black hair and an equally long and bushy black beard.

It looked complete unsightly, and rather terrifying, and when Harry said as much to him, Blaise readily agreed.

They made their way over to him, fighting through the sea of students marching in the opposite direction, and were immensely glad that they didn't have to pull their trunks behind them, as he continued to call out for the "Firs' Years", while the other students forced their way past the two smaller boys, as they made their way towards the self-driving carriages, they finally managed to reach him.

"Are there any more Firs' Years!?… No? Right then… this way! Follow me!"

They followed the giant of a man, slipping and tumbling down a slick path, with barely lit torches to guide their way, as they kept bundled together, "You'll get yer firs' look o' Hogwarts in a sec", the giant yelled out to them as he led them around the corner.

And just like he said it would be, there it was.

Looking as though it were carved from the very mountain it rested upon, it stood proudly in the distance, jutting out of the Scottish Highlands themselves, was the very castle that he'd only seen a single sketch of.

There was simply no comparison.

It was there, sat on the other side the Black Lake, its turrets and towers stood, stretching up into the starry night sky, lighting up the inky blackness, with its windows sparkling like small diamonds, was the most magnificent place he'd ever seen, and in his mind, he spoke the first word that came to mind.

Home

Home

"Right then! No more'n four to a boat!"

The man called out to them, pointing to a small fleet of little boats held at a tiny dock, and at his gesture, they all moved to get in. He could see Alex and the youngest redheaded boy from earlier clambering into one, with a bushy-haired girl and another boy, who looked to be slightly pudgy.

And also appeared to be completely terrified.

Both Harry and Blaise stepped up together, and dropped into the nearest boat, and Blaise smiled in greeting when two girls, both of Indian descent, slid in to take the two seats behind them.

"Hi Blaise"

The two spoke at the same time, which he found to be slightly unnerving, but brushed it off, as Blaise returned their greeting, obviously familiar with them.

"Hi girls", he motioned to Harry, "this is Harry. Harry, this is Parvati and Padma Patil. They're twin purebloods from an old Indian family"

He turned to greet them, with his best smile in place, and was pleased to see them smile back at him, "Hello girls"

"Hi Harry"

After the boats had finished their journey, the man, who made his name known to be Rubeus Hagrid, led them up the castle's slippery steps and into what was the Entrance Hall. He shuffled away after leaving them in the care of an older witch, who somehow managed to look every single one of them in the eye in a single sweep of her own, sending them all a disapproving glare for the supposed faults in their appearances.

Fidgeting under the glare, the pudgy boy stood near the bushy haired girl tucked his shirt in, and refastened his cloak properly; Alex's redheaded friend tried to rub a smudge of dirt off of his nose, but only really succeeded in making it look worse; and Harry felt the urge to try and flatten his hair well up inside him, even though he knew it would be nothing but a wasted effort on his part - he'd long conceded that battle.

She gave them all a short speech about the standard rules of Hogwarts and briefly explained about each of the four houses that they could be sorted into, and how they had all produced outstanding witches and wizards throughout history, giving each house its own noble history.

He also saw the redhead mutter something about that to Alex, who simply snickered in response, though he missed what was said, Draco and his two large friends sneered at them in response.

And with that, she announced that they were ready for them.

The huge double doors opened, as she led them into what she had called the Great Hall.

And for the first time since he'd spoken to a Boa Constructor in London Zoo, Harry Potter took a deep breath in surprise, feeling nervous once again.

The eyes of the entire Great Hall were upon them all as they walked down the pathway created by having two long, great tables on each side of them. He could see that the Gryffindor red was the table on his far left, with Hufflepuff next to them, and on their other side of the walkway was the blue of Ravenclaw, while Slytherin had the table on the far-right hand side of the hall.

Despite the fact that he'd only read about them and not met anyone, he had a feeling that separating the red and green tables was a really good idea.

There was no noise made as Professor McGonagall led them towards the very front of the hall, where a fifth table, smaller and running perpendicular to the others, housed the staff, including the giant of a man that had brought them here. He easily identified Professor Dumbledore from his chocolate frog card, who was sat right at the centre of the head table, on a much more ornate chair of gold and silver.

In front of them was a single, three-legged stool, which had an old, worn, wide brimmed hat sat upon it.

The hat contorted itself, giving it the features of eyes and a mouth, before it opened its brim wide, and to Harry's amazement, began to sing:

Oh you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!

And with that, the hat fell silent, and the students and staff burst into a polite applause.

This is the fabled sorting!? We just have to try on a hat? Why all the secrecy behind it?

It's rather disappointing really…

Stood next to the stool, straight-backed and straight-faced, Professor McGonagall picked up the hat by its pointed tip, as a scroll in her right hand unfurled itself, and she called out, "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink faced girl, with two bright blonde pigtails at the top of her head, walked nervously up to the stool, sitting herself on it and looking for all the world, as though she was simply trying her best not to shake too badly.

The hat sat there for a moment, before it opened its brim wide, and yelled out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The yellow and black table to his left exploded into cheers as Hannah Abbott looked utterly relieved, smiling widely as she made her way to sit at the far end of the table, before being greeted and congratulated by her new housemates.

"Bones, Susan!"

A young redhead barely had the hat sit on her head before it called out "HUFFLEPUFF"

And so it started, as "Boot, Terry!", and "Brocklehurst, Mandy!", became the first two Ravenclaw student to be sorted, and they were followed by "Brown, Lavender!", becoming the first Gryffindor, as the table on the far left erupted into cheers, with the two redheaded twins catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent!" became the first Slytherin student, and then the process continued, with some of the sortings taking less than a single second, while some lasted over two minutes. It seemed that the hat genuinely took the time to have a peek inside their minds, in order to see where a person was best suited to go.

He hated things like this.

In Little Whinging, he was never picked for any team for fear the people's fear of Dudley thinking they liked him. That's why he learned to go to places like the libraries, where nothing like that ever had to happen.

It was peace.

"Flinch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Harry", he heard Blaise whisper from where he was stood next to him, "are you alright? You're looking a little peaky"

"I'm fine", he responded, swallowing, before tacking on a quick "but thanks Blaise"

"Granger, Hermione!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

He heard the redhead grumble about that from his spot in front of him, and decided that he was very happy with that sorting especially.

He watched several more sortings happen, before Professor McGonagall called out, "Malfoy, Draco!", and he swaggered up to the hat, looking completely at ease with the attention.

The hat had barely touched his head before it called out, "SLYTHERIN!"

He watched on as the names continued to be called, and the list was whittled down, "Moon… Nott… Parkinson… Patil… Patil", and then "Perks, Sally-Anne!" became the newest Ravenclaw, and then she called the name.

"Potter, Alexander!"

As he stepped forward, with his head held high, he listened as the whispers broke out across the hall, like little hissing fires springing up at the mere sound of his name.

"Did she say Potter?"

"The Alex Potter?"

"It can't be? Can it?"

He looked on as people stood up from their seats, craning their necks to get a better look at him, and he felt his anger grow in response as Alexander took his place on the stool.

Something in his face must have shown, as Blaise squeezed the lower part of his arm, breaking his concentration, and Blaise made a point of not looking at him.

Alex had sat there for nearly a full three minutes, before the brim opened itself wide, and called out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

If the tables had been cheering for their students before, it was nothing compared to what he could hear now. The far left table was doing their best to deafen the rest of them, as some of them even called out, "We got Potter!"

As though there wasn't two of them.

The thought made Harry's blood want to boil, while Alexander grinned, cheek-to-cheek, ecstatic to be in the house he wanted.

"Potter, Hadrian!"

And the cheers died down instantly, he heard a new set of whispers break out.

"Another one?"

"Two Potters?"

"Are they related?"

"Look at him - he looks just like James Potter"

If he had cared enough to look, he would've seen the looks of surprises on the faces of some of the staff. Holding his own head high, he walked crisply across the floor, setting himself on the stool as the hat was lowered.

The last thing he managed to see was his brother's hopeful face looking at him, as the large brim of the hat covered his eyes.

"Hello Mister Potter"

He felt the voice whispering in his ear and clamped down on the urge to physically react.

" Erm… hello Hat?"

" Difficult… very difficult"

" Well that's just rude… and what exactly's supposed to be difficult?"

" You've got plenty of courage I see, and not a bad mind either"

" So you are the Sorting Hat!?"

" Indeed I am Mister Potter, and now, if you would please, let me think, I do have a job to do you know?"

"Oh", he mentally smacked himself in the forehead, "well then I'm sorry to interrupt"

"That's quite alright. Now where was I? Oh yes, plenty of courage I see, you don't really fear anything real, do you, Mister Potter? No, no, all that bravery, all that chivalry and that nerve, but you have nothing to show for it, do you? But you could… you could you know… And then there's all that learning in here isn't there? Like I said - not a bad mind at all… it's a true thirst for knowledge you have here Mister Potter, you're just so desperate to soak it all in, but you want more than just that don't you? Yes… yes… you want the knowledge more something than for just knowledge's sake, or for progress don't you? You have goals, targets, aims - whatever you want to call them… I suppose that lets me rule out Ravenclaw then at least… a shame really, the bird's nest could certainly use a few more people with the talent for learning that you possess… oh, yes Mister Potter, there's real talent in here. You have so much potential that will require nothing but hard work to master, and you have the capacity for that in spades; not to mention the fact that you're actually willing to do it - you're desperate to do it even! Oh dear Helga would love to have that drive be in her noble house of badgers, but it's really the loyalty that gets you there… you're fiercely loyal to those that are loyal to you in return, but not unconditionally so to everyone around you, which I suppose allows me to rule out Hufflepuff as a certainty. So then, Mister Potter, where one do you think you should it be? Which house do you truly belong in? Gryffindor or Slytherin?"

" Not Gryffindor… not Gryffindor…"

" Hmm yes… oh I can see it in there, hiding away your thoughts are you? You have a talent for that, come see me about that at some point - I'd be more than happy to lend a hand. Hmm… you wish to be set apart from your brother, remembered separately, seen as more than just 'the spare'… but what is it that you really want to get out of your life, Mister Potter?"

" I want to be the greatest-"

" Oh yes… there it is… all I needed was to see was a glimpse of that… of all that drive, all of that ambition… tucked away, where you think only you can see it… all of that power at your fingertips, just waiting for you to reach out, and find a way to use it… just waiting for you to find a way to unleash it. Greatness is your goal, and ambition is your key… yes… you could be great you know, so very great… yes, and Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness"

" Then do it!"

The hat chuckled - could the hat even chuckle? - well it sounded like it could to Harry anyway, "Well then if you're certain, you most definitely belong in-"

"-SLYTHERIN!"

Chapter Text

'There is no greater evidence of superior intelligence than to be surprised at nothing'

-Josh Billings

Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Power

Part Seven

Harry Potter & the Whispers of Desire

Chapter Seven: Action, Reaction

"Potter, Alexander!"

He knew it was coming, but Alex still felt surprised when he heard his own name being called out; the cheers for Sally-Anne Perks, which were coming from the Ravenclaw table on his right, were beginning to die down before immediately being replaced by the usual whispers he heard; without taking the time to pause and allow himself to think too much about it, he pushed his way past the few people still stood in front of him, brushing them off to the side, as he made his way towards the old, spindly-legged stool, and the Hogwarts Sorting Hat that awaited him there.

He did his best to make sure that he looked as happy and calm as he could when he turned around, giving everyone his best first impression once everyone could see him. He swallowed his nerves as the ancient piece of headgear was slowly lowered down by the Deputy Headmistress, gently placing it onto his head, before he heard a rough voice whispering inside his mind.

"Hmm… a tricky one you are… and no reaction to me in here at all, eh? Ah, of course, I can see it now… the Sorting Hat sees all you know? You managed to convince your father to tell you what would happen at the sorting ceremony, so that you could appear to be brave in front of your peers, eh? So very, very sly of you… and so very, very Slytherin too…"

"NO! Don't you dare put me there! You can't!"

"No!? Don't I dare? I can't, can't I? It's really not your call, you know? I will sort as I please, and place you where I please…"

"I can't be in Slytherin… I just can't…"

"Oh… and do tell me boy, why is that?"

"You know that only the evil witches and wizards come out of Slytherin… I'm Alex Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived… I need to be in Gryffindor… I want to be in Gryffindor. With Harry. With my brother, in the same house as our parents, the same house as our grandparents. Us Potters always get sorted into Gryffindor"

"Well… you've certainly got plenty of nerve, speaking to me like that, I'll grant you as much… but let's have a look in a bit more detail, eh… you're very loyal too, but you're a no for Hufflepuff, no, there's far too much hard work that would be required from you… you've got the potential to succeed, but not the right kind of drive for you to thrive in Ravenclaw… and you completely lack any form of subtlety, don't you? Not unlike your parents in that regard, if I recall them corectly, and I assure you, I always do… oh very well then, it seems you'll be getting your wish after all, because for you, it better be-

"GRYFFINDOR!"

He felt the wide grin break out across his face, stretching the muscles in his cheeks, as pure joy settled into his heart. He was in Gryffindor - just like his parents had been, just like his grandparents had been - they even said that even Dumbledore himself had been sorted into Gryffindor as a boy.

It was the best house.

It was the house of heroes.

He ignored the calls of "We got Potter!", coming from Fred and George, briefly scowling as they ruffled his hair on his way past them, before settling himself into his seat, directly across the Granger girl from the train, and with Neville sat next to him. He shook hands with Percy, who congratulated him with a small smile, in response to his own, large grin still being plastered firmly on his face. A few of the older students reached over the table to shake his hand, or just to clap him on the shoulder, even as the noise died down and Professor McGonagall, (his new head of house!), called his brother's name.

He barely had time to look at him, even though he'd realised that Harry was already one of the taller First Years, though not by much, he was still smaller than everybody else when he was sat down. Alex strained in his seat to see him, absently making sure there was a spare place on the bench next to him, as he strained to catch a glimpse over the top of the heads of the older students, before Harry's head was completely covered by the brim of the hat.

He watched on, ignoring the hall as it fell absolutely silent, with some of the other students sending him looks, a mixture of curiosity and wonder that he hadn't yet noticed, but even if he had seen them, it wouldn't've mattered to him anyway.

His attention was solely focused on his brother and the Sorting Hat.

Harry was being sorted and would be done in just a moment - then he could worry about the looks he was being sent - but his brother, Harry, (his brother was finally back with them - where he belonged), was nearly done being sorted.

Then the one moment became two.

Which became thirty seconds.

And then thirty seconds became a full minute.

And then one minute became two minutes, which then stretched out into three minutes, and then extended itself into a fourth, which meant that Harry now had the longest sorting that year so far.

And then, just as they passed the five-minute mark, with everyone's attention waning and after what felt like an eternity to Alex, they all looked on, straightening themselves up as Harry straightened himself up on the stool, and Alex found himself leaning forward, his grin still plastered across his face, though smaller than before, as he trembled with anticipation. The Sorting Hat contorted itself once more, opening its brim wide, as it yelled out, "SLYTHERIN!"

And he felt the warm, safe ball of happiness that had settled in his chest, harden like steel, before it plummeted straight into his stomach, feeling as cold as winter ice.

With each new September that came, also came a brand new bunch of irritating, snot-nosed brats that he was going to be forced to deal with.

While he was confident that he could count on all of his Slytherin students to actually bother being prepared for his classes - though they better have prepared for all of their classes, if they knew what was good for them - and he was of the opinion that the Ravenclaw students generally weren't too bad either - at least they actually bothered to study the inside a text book while they were away, as opposed to just looking at the pretty cover.

But, for each of competent students that he was actually going to be capable of teaching something worthwhile to, he had to put up with one of the Gryffindor dunderheads, who wouldn't even have bothered to even look at the covers of their books before their lessons began, or one of the Hufflepuff imbeciles, who would immediately flinch at the mere appearance of his shadow looming above them.

Well, actually that part wasn't too bad , in fact, he found that it was sometimes fun just to watch them squirm needlessly below him, in fear of something he'd never actually done to a student.

Draco - that was Lucius' son's name if he remembered it correctly - and a quick check told him he had, would be starting with him this year, as well as the offspring of the Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson families, as well as some of the children of Ancient and Noble Houses.

Hopefully, and at the very least, Lucius would have instructed his son to actually bother picking up a textbook before he arrived in his class woefully unprepared, and shamed himself.

If his memory was indeed, correct, then at least the Houses of Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, Bones, Greengrass, Longbottom, Macmillan, Bulstrode, Abbott, Weasley (yet another one), and… Potter, all had at least one of their children starting this year.

And in some of those cases, the children were the heirs and heiresses of their respective families.

He grit his teeth painfully, the urge to strangle someone welling up strongly inside him, as he realised that he had just reminded himself that he was about to start the teaching of the obnoxious son of the obnoxious James Potter, for what could be the next seven years of his life.

Though he was hopeful that the brat wouldn't make it past five.

If there was indeed such a thing as a personal hell, then Severus Snape was absolutely certain that his was going to start later today.

Still, there was some real work to be done before the brats arrived.

Finally pulling himself from his bed, unhappy with his lazy start to the morning, even as angry thoughts flittered about his head, he wiped a hand across his brow.

Alone, inside the bedroom of his rather spacious personal chambers, which were kept completely private from staff and student alike, located below his office, he took a shower before donning a crisp white shirt and a set of black full-body robes, having forgone the wearing of most of his muggle attire years ago. He took a moment to flatten his hair, before he made his way out to his own personal sitting area, where a house elf appeared instantly, holding a tray that contained his breakfast.

He sat down to a cup of Earl Grey, and his preferred hot, overly-buttered toast, while his personal school elf moved about his chambers, making the bed, tidying the bathroom from his morning routine, and making sure that anything he might've left out from his work yesterday was back in its proper place.

"Will Master be needing Bally for anything more?"

Not bothering to look up from his copy of the day's Daily Prophet, Severus replied, "No Bally. That will be all for now. Thank you"

And the elf, bowing deeply once more, even though he couldn't be seen, disapparated out of the room, with an audible 'Crack!'

With his small, yet personally satisfying meal finished, and his copy of the Daily Prophet read cover to cover, he left the remnants of his breakfast and the newspaper lying on the silver tray, resting upon the small stool, where Bally would collect it from once he had left, and set about his tasks for the day.

A thorough check of his Potions Lab and Stores, found that everything had been replenished, and was now fully stocked - he would normally do it himself during the school year, but the task fell to the school's house elves over the Summer months - and he was happy to find that all of his ingredients were fresh enough for proper use, and should last him for as long as he needed them to, before he carried out his next check at Halloween.

He then made the rounds of the dungeons, before entering the Slytherin common rooms and dormitories, setting the new password, and checking that the place was cleaned to the standards he expected. There was no damage he could find anywhere, which needed to be addressed or even simply kept track of, and everything was, as it should be, and as he demanded everything in Slytherin House, and from all of his students to be, it was fit for purpose.

His quick check of the Head Boy and Girl's rooms displayed the same results, which was a waste of time to check in his opinion, as neither the Head Boy nor Head Girl for the coming year was a member of Slytherin House.

Finally, and feeling content with the state of his charges' things, he retired to his office to review the lesson plans for his first week, and to make any last-minute changes he thought he might need.

He was going to have the First Year Gryffindors learning with his precious snakes for Potions, first thing on Monday mornings for a single period, which would be their theory based lesson, but as they would all have orientation tomorrow morning, then their first lesson would actually be the double session used for brewing, on Friday mornings, and inwardly, he found himself smirking.

Potter's arrogant brat would no doubt follow both of his parents straight into the lion's den, so he felt assured that that particular session would be interesting to say the least.

And fun.

For me, at any rate.

Still, he decided to swap the order they'd be attempting their first few potions in, given that last year's attempts had gone very badly around the beginning of November, and he hoped to avoid a repeat of that this year.

They were his favourite pair of boots until a particular set bumbling idiots had spilt a poorly-brewed, basic strengthening solution on the floor, damaging the stone floor, destroying half of the class' shoes, including his own, and melting several of the stools in the process.

However, on the bright side of things, the points loss he had given out to that set of idiots throughout the year, was enough, (along with their continued Quidditch Cup dominance), to ensure that Slytherin House, rather handily, won the House Cup for a seventh year in a row, and hopefully, this year would mark the eighth.

He did enjoy seeing the look of disappointment on Minerva's face for two reasons. The first, was because he simply liked to win, and the second, was because she always more than made up for it in the end of year staff party.

It truly was a sight to see - his old Transfiguration professor getting merrily drunker by the gobletful - it was the only real reason he bothered to attend.

That, and the fact that attendance to the party had been mandated by the Headmaster for the last decade.

From there on, his day continued in his preferred silent bliss, which lasted all the way until it was time for him to make his way to the Great Hall, taking his seat on the Headmaster's left hand side, he greeted his fellow faculty members cordially, only scowling once Quirinus took his own seat, right next to him, arriving just before the tide of students began to arrive and began to take their own seats along the benches that lined the Great Hall.

He was extremely glad to see that all of his own students were looking as well-groomed and hygienic as ever.

It was almost as if they knew that he would tolerate nothing less, and be more than happy to punish anything else.

If nothing else, it was nice to know that they at least remembered that, before they were made to return to him.

He sat mostly in silence, answering the odd few questions which came his way, but made no move to start a conversation with anyone, content to listen to the Headmaster and Filius, as they discussed their favourite wireless dramas from the summer. He waited and hoped for Minerva to return with all the haste she could muster, before the double doors opened and she strolled in, using a brisk, no nonsense pace, and with the latest batch of fools and idiots that it was his job to help turn into responsible members of society trailing behind her.

He meant, a lovely new batch students, of course.

They walked down the centre of the hall, led unwaveringly by Minerva, and his eyes instantly latched onto the two most prominent people in the crowd - Alexander Potter and Draco Malfoy – both of whom were already walking down the length of the hall, acting as though they owned the place.

That would be out of them soon - Draco was almost a sure thing for Slytherin, and no respectable Slytherin student above Second Year would allow him as much free reign as he was imagining he would be receiving - and there was no way in the name of Merlin that he was going to allow James Potter's spawn to become the same arrogant piece of bullying dragon dung that his father had been during his time here.

Though he wasn't sure it was already too late for that, he was just hoping that Lily at least, had somehow managed to keep them both in check.

But I seriously doubt it.

He settled down to watch the sorting, taking note of who the newest members of his house were - Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Daphne Greengrass were all the heirs (or heiress in Daphne's case) of their respective families. Millicent Bulstrode, Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson were all the children of well-known, and well-respected pure-blooded families as well, though they all each had an older sibling. Tracey Davis and Morag MacDougal were either muggleborns or half-bloods - he'd have to discretely check that later on, and, if necessary, keep an eye on them - he cared little for blood status (he was, after all, a half-blood himself), but some of the other members of his house weren't quite so open-minded.

"Potter, Alexander!"

He watched on, completely disinterested and unsurprised, and even feeling vaguely irritated, as the young brat became the newest member of the lion's pack, before Minerva called the next name, and for the first time since the sorting had started, managed to grab his attention.

Full and undivided.

"Potter, Hadrian!"

What?!

In his mind, he attempted to rationalise it, to brush it off, to simply claim it as a coincidence - it wasn't a wizarding exclusive name after all - there were plenty of muggles with that surname, not that he knew any to hand, but he knew that the name had come from a muggle originally, so it wasn't just a mad theory he'd invented in his head.

But he couldn't lie to himself, and the physical evidence was just too much for him to ignore.

Even if James Potter didn't manage slap his face across the newspaper every few months, claiming that some new extremely important and crucial case had been solved by the team of aurors he led personally, Severus would still be able to remember the day he first met the insufferable bastard on the Hogwarts Express, back when they were both just eleven year old children, and it was easy to see just how this new boy - this new Potter - looked far too much like his childhood enemy for Severus to ever feel completely comfortable with.

Except, he made himself look twice, when he saw the way the boy moved.

Severus held several acquaintances among the elites of the wizarding world, people such as Lucius Malfoy, and one of the things that he had always thought that helped to define them as part of the wizarding aristocracy, was quite simply in the way that they walked.

The less respectable members, such as the Crabbes and Goyles could never manage to do it, and of the other purebloods, the likes of James Potter couldn't pull off refined if he tried.

But it was in the same way as Lucius Malfoy, in which Hadrian Potter walked.

Or rather glided.

They both moved across the floor using minimal visible movement, simply moving as though their feet skimmed the floor, but never quite seemed to touch it, keeping their footsteps extremely light, as though they were prepared to snap out of it, and leap into action at a moment's notice, all the while, maintaining an air about them, which would not be thought out of place inside of a mansion of some sort.

The boy's gait was more nervous than he was used to seeing, even shaky at times, he still seemed to belong there, despite the fact that no one seemed to know just who he was.

The boy sat under the hat for a full five minutes - making him one of the rare hat-stalls, which only happened once or twice a decade. It wasn't anything big really, all it meant was that that the boy had several qualities that interested the hat, and he could see the other two Heads of House, on the staff table peering at him curiously - a hat-stall was quite the rare thing to see, and they were obviously wondering if they would be receiving the boy. It was a novelty in its own way, but the the hat-stall itself wasn't something unheard of, in fact, he had once been told that Minerva's own sorting had taken just as long, as the hat had debated between placing her in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.

Severus continued to watch on as both, boy and Sorting Hat, sat perfectly still on top of the stool, and he found himself wondering to what their mental conversation would involve, but before his imagination went too far with him, both the boy and the Sorting Hat moved together, straightening themselves up slightly, before the hat's brim opened wide, and yelled the word that caused him to freeze up completely.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Albus Dumbledore, after having over a complete century of living on the planet, was no longer accustomed to feeling surprised really, there was, in truth, very little in life, which he hadn't already seen, heard or done, but today had proven to him, without a shadow of a doubt in his mind, that one should never become complacent and unassuming, that surprises were always possible.

He had assumed, for example, that the young (apparently supposed) squib, Hadrian James 'Harry' Potter, would grow up in a completely muggle family, remaining unaware of the wizarding world, with the occasional visit from his parents and brother, and when he turned eighteen, he would be granted a fairly sizeable sum of muggle money, as part of his 'inheritance', for the lack of his parents' care during his childhood, so that he could have a very comfortable life in the muggle world, without ever actually needing to work a day in his life.

Instead the eleven year old, and apparently fully-capable wizard, Hadrian James 'Harry' Potter, had instead, reached his eleventh birthday and then been sent a Hogwarts acceptance letter, which now meant that instead of him being left out their world, as most squibs were, he was now a recognised fully-fleged member of the magical community.

A true citizen of their world.

When he had been told by Minerva, after she had barged into his office a full month ago, that young Harry was indeed a registered wizard, one that had qualified for Hogwarts, he had let her be the one to inform the Potters, as he could not bring himself to speak to them.

Instead, he allowed himself to wallow in his office, feeling consumed by his own guilt.

After St. Mungo's Hospital had told them all, that Harry's magical core was not regenerating the way it should be, he, as supposedly the most knowledgeable wizard alive, save for, perhaps, his own mentor, had agreed with their diagnosis that Harry would indeed grow up, only to be declared as a squib.

That had led to, what he was led to believe, was the biggest argument Lily, James and their friends had ever had, and it had eventually been decided between them all, that it would be best for him to grow up somewhere away from the rest of them.

His older brother had defeated The Dark Lord Voldemort, by using a magic they couldn't yet possibly fathom or understand, but he had somehow drained Harry's magical core in the process, using it to power himself, which meant that the youngest son was now completely defenceless. Given that they feared attacks and attempted reprisals from Voldemort's followers, which was a possibility, it was agreed between them, that little Harry needed to be sent somewhere safe.

So he had, after another, though thankfully much shorter, debate, agreed to be the one to take the boy to Lily's sister, Petunia, and set up some of his stronger, and lesser-known, defences around their home.

He had walked into their home, later that same night, just a few short days after Halloween in 1981, with the young Harry gently tucked under one arm, and as the young boy slept peacefully, he explained to the Dursleys what it was that had happened. Petunia had agreed, albeit very begrudgingly, and against her husband's wishes, to take the boy in and raise him as though he was her own son.

And, despite the fact that he thought it had been a bad idea from the beginning, he decided that would be the entirety of his involvement with their decision, and he would leave the Potters to it.

So when an upset Lily Potter had flooed him a decade later, sobbing, and in hysterics, telling him that Petunia was claiming that Harry wanted nothing to do with them after being raised by them, and believing himself to be an orphan, he had been completely blindsided.

In not one of the scenarios he had played out in his head all those years ago, did he imagine that the Potters wouldn't even contact the boy once in ten years!

Lily and James were both brilliant parents to Alex, he was loved completely and his every need was cared for (and okay, Albus wasn't above admitting that the few instances he had seen the boy over the years, that maybe he was slightly spoilt), but no one could deny that they both loved their son dearly.

So why hadn't one of them even contacted Harry once in the decade he'd been gone?

They had told Alex about Harry when he was nine, after he had stumbled upon a photograph of the four of them together on the day the twins were born, but Harry had gone on, past that, and now he had no doubt in his mind, that it had lasted right up until he had received his Hogwarts letter, before he'd even found out that he had a brother.

He had felt disappointed in them that day, and he was sure they knew it, because they kept trying to apologise to him.

Him being Albus Dumbledore.

He wasn't the one that deserved the apology.

Nor, he admitted to himself, did he want one from them.

They hadn't done anything to him, after all.

So when the first of September had arrived, he was slightly excited and nervous, as he always was when he received his latest batch of new students, but this year was slightly different. Being a man of boundless curiosity, he wanted to see what kind of young man Harry had been raised as, despite being a half-blood wizard, born from an ancient family, he had been raised by his completely muggle relatives.

And as it turned out, Harry Potter had grown up and become a young man that had managed to completely rattle him to the core of his very being.

The boy had looked so completely unafraid to the untrained eye, as he had entered the Great Hall, not flinching away from the stares of the older students, but not attempting to hide behind some of the others either, like so many other First Years did; only his experience could catch the way his gaze was darting from person to person, assessing them as a threat.

In fact, several of his fellow First Years had taken to hiding slightly behind him, given his slightly taller frame, and he had allowed it, making Albus believe there, that the boy was destined to enter either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff.

There was no strutting down the centre, like his brother and young Draco had, but there was no shuffling meekly, as the young Susan and Neville either.

The boy had been quiet, but projected confidence, and Albus quite liked seeing that.

When the whispers started up about the sorting of the Boy-Who-Lived, he noticed the brief clench of the boy's fist, letting that bored mask slip ever so slightly, and visibly showing, just for a moment, his raw anger, controlled as it was, at what must've felt like ten years of abandonment churning around inside of him. It must have all been dropped on him at once, but before it went any further, the boy stood beside him managed to calm him down, by simply placing a hand on his arm and saying something he couldn't hear from his spot at the High Table, but the boy did receive a small smile in response.

He was glad that there were some positive emotions in there - a good friendship could soothe the soul in ways even the strongest of magic could never even begin to understand.

And then he watched his sorting, looking on with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, that sent alarm bells ringing in his head, though he couldn't remember what for.

And then, the Sorting Hat opened its brim wide, and called out, "SLYTHERIN!"

He clapped politely alongside everyone else, feeling slightly surprised more than anything; having expected somewhere else given the way he had seemed, but if he truly felt neglected by his parents, then ambition was almost a sure personality trait for him.

And then the alarm bells finally made sense to him; why his trepidation was so high.

It was the way Harry moved, even amongst his fellow students, it was everything from his bearing, to the charmingly polite smile he wore (and if he was right, it was like the courage he had displayed on the way into the Great Hall - it wasn't really emotion, it was just a mask he used to hide how he felt), to the obvious etiquette lessons he'd been reading up on.

He felt weary, because he'd seen it all once before.

He could still remember walking into that orphanage nearly fifty years ago, back then, when he was still just the Transfiguration Professor, it had been his job to meet with the scared and bitter little boy, who was so angry at the world because he had felt abandoned by both of his parents. The same boy who had eventually grown up to become one of most charming and handsome young men he had ever met, wielding magical power and an array of skills that had surpassed those of his own when he himself had finished his own schooling.

He remembered how that same little boy had been upset at his own sorting, but a gentle touch and a smile from his new best friend had calmed him down immediately, even causing the boy to blush slightly. He could remember her being sorted into Ravenclaw, after she had watched him head into Slytherin, and then, he and the rest of the staff had watched on over the years, as she did her best, scoring high in her exams while he went on to become their most brilliant student in decades, and feeling pleased as their friendship had endured the house rivalries (though they were much more subdued back then).

By the time their fifth year was drawing to a close, he was made prefect (and was already looked at as the upcoming Head Boy), several members of staff were already expecting a during and post-Hogwarts courtship, followed by a small wedding, one which they were all hoping for invites to.

In fact, wasn't there a betting ring at the time? I'm almost sure Horace started one in their third year…

It should have been a beautiful thing to behold, but instead, it had turned into a complete disaster.

The loss of her at the end of their fifth year had affected him deeply, the pain of her eventual death turning a oy who had been slowly healing, into noting but a bitter young man, one who began the journey into truly dark one.

The pain of his loss had slowly, but surely, pushed him down a path of no return; one of no recovery; and from that point on, he had studied harder than he had before, pushing the outer bounds of what the school taught, and delving into the darker forms of magic. He began to walk a lone path of only pain and anguish, and he, Albus Dumbledore, the legendary defeater of the Dark Lord Grindelwald, had done nothing to even try and stop him, to dissuade him from where he was going.

It was a fact which still haunted the old wizard to this very day.

And now, it frightened him immensely, that the young Harry Potter, the newest member of Slytherin House, reminded him of a once young Tom Riddle.

Chapter Text

' Every new day is a new chance to change your life'

-Unknown

Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Power

Part Eight

Harry Potter & the Whispers of Desire

Chapter Eight: The Serpent's Den

Silence.

Complete and utter silence.

Shock throughout Hogwarts' Great Hall.

That was what Harry returned to from his spell beneath the Sorting Hat; when he finally re-emerged from his place beneath the shabby brim of the school's ancient headpiece, rising from his seat on the old, spindly-legged stool.

He took a moment to scan the room, casting his eyes about and taking in the looks of shock present on almost everybody's faces; no doubt they were all flabbergasted at the very idea of a Potter being sorted into the noble house of serpents.

He'd made sure to read up on as much of his family history as he could find before arriving at the school, and as far as he had managed to find, every single born Potter that had attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, had been sorted into Gryffindor for the last seventeen generations - no exceptions!

And now he was the one that had finally managed to break that dull tradition.

He rather liked the idea of that.

He didn't dare turn his attention towards the staff table, lest it appear as though he was scared of the result in front of his new peers - he wouldn't have them believing that about him - he wouldn't allow them to think that about him, especially not before he'd even began making his mark on his new world.

He caught sight of some of the glares already being levelled at him from the far table clad in scarlet and gold, the brave and chivalrous house of lions judging him already, as though they believed it mattered to him what they thought - and he managed to catch a glimpse of the look of outright betrayal that Alexander wore.

Well… he betrayed me first!

I suppose though, that I should learn how to use that… I should let their scorn was over me; their disappointment and their anger… let the anger push me further… let it fuel me… drive me forwards… now though, there are more important things to contend with…

Stand up tall; stand up straight; stand strong; stand proud; and stand firm. Remember, above all else, you must show no weakness!

None!

He turned his head towards away from the mass of the Great Hall and towards the table of emerald and silver, ignoring the stunned looks he was being given, disregarding the silent mass of students, he began to cross the hall to his seat at his table; feeling proud to have been named a member of the honourable house of Salazar.

And then, as he took his first steps towards the First Year's end of the table, one of the Slytherin prefects started to clap.

And then, one by one, falling like dominoes in a line, the rest of Slytherin house joined him, continuing to build until the applause reached the same level of volume as it had for their other students.

They're applauding me?

It's apparently true what they say… Slytherin House will always looks after one of its own.

Keeping his head held high and maintaining at least a modicum of his pride and dignity, he made his way across to hall to his seat, finding himself next to a girl called Pansy Parkinson, he prepared to watch the rest of the sorting unfold.

And made sure that his back was turned away from the eyes of the rest of the hall.

From his seat at the staff table, still sat at the Headmaster's left hand, Severus Snape looked on as the second Potter brat made his way over from the Sorting Hat's stool to a seat at the Slytherin table.

He could still feel the ice cold shock coursing through his veins, freezing his skin, simply at the very thought of having a Potter in his house.

In Slytherin House.

The boy took in the faces of the other students, looking all the while as they though mattered not to him. He was almost impressed, but not quite, at the way James Potter's second son handled himself.

Confident, but not so overly so, as to be considered being cocky.

Standing proud, but not so much as to appear as arrogant as his father usually did.

In fact, and he felt slightly sick to his stomach admitting it, he appeared to present himself almost exactly as what Severus thought a perfect Slytherin should present himself as, when they were in the public eye.

He repressed a shudder, the action not going unnoticed, if the Headmaster's amused flick of his lips was any indication.

There was a moment of utter stillness before one of his sixth year prefects - Lucan - began clapping for the boy, and united in their support of their own house, the rest of his Slytherins joined in with their own applause, welcoming their newest student into their home.

He kept his eyes on the boy as he settled himself across from the Parkinson girl, trying to probe at what his thoughts and feelings on his sorting were, but the boy kept his back turned to the staff table, limiting his contact with the rest of the hall.

Smart…

He could feel some of the other staff members outright staring at the boy's back, wondering just what it was that had led him to become a member of Slytherin House. Dumbledore, in his infinite patience and understanding, would not let it matter to him in the slightest, and he was sure Pomona and Filius would be of the same mind.

Some of the other staff members though, had Severus intrigued as to what their reactions would be. How would Minerva take to it - would she be herself, because he was the child of two of her favourite students, both of whom later became known as renowned heroes, or would she be stricter on him than usual, given that the boy was in his house and not hers?

I suppose that only time will tell…

Hagrid would no doubt be greatly upset, though he was only the gamekeeper, so who honestly had the time to care about what he thought?

What was Aurora going to think, being an ex-Slytherin herself? She usually maintained something of a neutrality towards the houses when she was teaching, but this was a boy who could be said, was born to be a Gryffindor, so how would she see it?

What would Quirinus think?

"RAVENCLAW!"

His eyes snapped back to the sorting as a tiny brunette girl jumped off of the stool and made her way to the sapphire and bronze coloured mass that was Ravenclaw House. Chiding himself for his lack of attention, he turned his thoughts turn away from the potential problem that was the new Potter boy, and focused them back towards the sorting, where they should've been.

Sat next to a girl who had introduced herself as 'Pansy, Pansy Parkinson', Harry tried to make nice with the other new members of his house while the rest of the sorting progressed. He had already met Draco and his family before his sorting, but now he had names to put with the others that had been stood with him on the station.

Pansy had been there with him, as had the two large, hulking boys that had introduced themselves as Vincent and Gregory, but preferred to go by their surnames only - Crabbe and Goyle respectively. The only other person that had been stood with them, was a thin, tweedy looking boy, who said that his name was Theodore Nott, but he preferred to be called Theo.

When they shook hands, he responded that his name was Hadrian, but he preferred to be called Harry, and the boy had cracked what was almost a half-smile at him, before looking away, averting his gaze timidly.

Harry resolved to keep an eye on him.

He could be a friend.

He could be useful.

Sensing a lull in conversation, Pansy took a few moments to whisper between the two if them and fill him in on who the other girls at his table were.

Firstly, he was introduced to Daphne Greengrass, who offered him a curt nod from underneath her perfectly straightened curtain of blonde hair, as her ice blue eyes attempted to pierce his own with a calculating look.

Sat next to Daphne was Tracey Davis, who Pansy pointed out was a half-blood, in some sort of attempt to embarrass her. A pointed look from him reminded her that, despite being a son of a Most Ancient and Noble House, which was a tremendous thing in its own right, he was also himself, considered to be a half-blood wizard.

Tracey had bright, vibrant, brown hair, which almost looked glossy in the candlelight, while her deep brown eyes, sparkled with an unknown mischief, as she smiled at him from across the table.

Millicent Bulstrode was the stocky girl, who also had brown hair, but unlike Tracey's, it was a dull, almost lifeless shade of the colour. She simply scowled at him, as Pansy whispered to him that she wanted to play as beater in quidditch which just wasn't 'proper', and when he'd asked 'why?', Pansy had looked completely disgusted for a moment, while Daphne and Tracey turned to hide their smirks, pink in the cheeks when he caught their eyes and winked at them. Millicent's expression didn't noticeably change, but he found that the glare she had aimed at him, had receded slightly.

He decided to count that one as a win.

Morag MacDougal, who seemed to only be friends with Millicent, attempted to look small as humanly possible when Pansy regarded her; she sent a shy smile towards Harry as she was introduced, turning slightly pink when he smiled back, before his attention was reclaimed by the sorting.

He watched as several more Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were sorted, and another Gryffindor, before there were only two people left - Blaise, and the redheaded boy Alex had been stood with on the platform.

"Weasley, Ronald!"

The hat deliberated, sat upon his head for a moment, before it opened its brim wide, screaming, "GRYFFINDOR!"

There were a few loud cheers from the home of the lions, and then Ronald Weasley was seated at the seat next to Alex, as the redheaded twins shook him about good-naturedly, and the older one with the prefect's badge on his chest reached over the table to shake his hand.

"Zabini, Blaise!"

He held his breath inside his throat, and his face must've given something away as Daphne, once again, sent him a narrow-eyed look, so he reined himself back in, letting his expression slide away from his face, as she narrowed her eyes at him slightly further, which he responded to with a grin, before she huffed lightly, leaning back herself, and averting her gaze from him.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Gently and quietly, Harry let loose the breath he'd been holding in, applauding politely, as Blaise made his way over to them to the cheers of the rest of their house, and took the seat directly opposite him, before offering him a smile.

"Good to see you here"

Harry almost laughed at the amusement Blaise hid behind his genuine relief, "Well, I can honestly say that it's good to be here"

He garnered a few surprised looks from the students closest to him, before silence stretched across the hall.

From his customary place at centre of the High Table, Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet, bringing the entire hall to a complete silence, without needing a single overt movement or spell. He swept his eyes across all them, lingering on the end of the Gryffindor table, as his eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles, which seemed to be the brightest things in the entire hall, matched perhaps only, by his magnificent silver beard, which was tucked into his belt, and the ghosts that were floating high above them all. He face was smiling widely and full of warmth, as he beamed down at them all, his arms wide open, welcoming them all, as though he couldn't imagine a better sight than to see them all there.

"To our new students, I say, welcome", his magically enhanced voice reverberated around the room, "to our old students, I say, welcome back. Now before we begin our banquet, there are a few words I would like to say, and here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

And with that, the wise old wizard sat back down, as the plates in front of them filled themselves with food.

Deciding that it all looked delicious, Harry decided to help himself to some of the fish and mushy peas, while he took a closer look the others around him. The other Slytherin students were all holding their correct cutlery, and while they were mostly enjoying a good, quiet conversation as they ate, they did so with grace and manners that would've made his Aunt Petunia swoon if she had seen them.

A quick look around the room told him that the Ravenclaws were looking as well-mannered as his own house - he had his own house now! - eating gently, keeping themselves looking proper, though not quite as proper as some of the Slytherins, who appeared as though their shirts had been starched stiff.

The Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables however, were a much different story. Their meal was livelier, as the conversation flowed faster and louder, but they all looked to be lot messier.

Ronald Weasley looked as though he was attempting to force an entire roast dinner down his gullet at once.

He couldn't help but scrunch his face up in disgust at the sight of it - he had been beaten for far less than that before.

"Disgusting, isn't it?"

He turned to see Draco looking at him, with an upset look that he knew was mirrored on his own features, "I'm sorry?"

"The way Weasley's eating, like he's trying to swallow that entire chicken at once - it's rather disgusting, isn't it?"

His screwed up face tightened slightly, as the repulsive image flashed through his mind once again, and he noticed that a few of the girls had stopped eating once they'd looked over to where the redhead was sat, "Yes, yes it is"

"By the way, I haven't yet said thank you, have I?"

Feeling slightly confused, he gave Draco his full attention as his brow furrowed lightly, as they both ignored their new year-mates, who were all at this point, unashamedly listening in, "What exactly do you mean?

"Back on the platform", at Harry's blank look, Draco fought back the urge to roll his eyes, "with the other Potters. They're rather full of themselves normally, and my father's been trying to shut them up for years, and yet you managed to do it in under a minute. We", he indicated himself and the others, who half-attempted to hide the fact that they had been eavesdropping, "didn't even know that Alex had a brother, never mind a twin"

"That's because they sent me away when I was a baby", he watched as all of their eyes widened slightly at the new information he presented them with, "they abandoned me - with muggles - for ten years because they thought I'd be safer; all because Alex is their precious Boy-Who-Lived"

"Wait", Pansy's voice cut across them, and he turned his focus to her, "so if you're twins, then which one of you is the older one?"

By now, some of the older students were also listening in, but he didn't really care about that.

"I think it's him, my aunt thinks the same, but I don't know for certain. I didn't ask"

And that was all he said on the subject for the rest of the night.

The sounds of dinner slowly whittled down as people gradually began to finish their meals, and before long, the food was replaced with the dessert selection; not feeling too hungry, Harry helped himself to a single slice of treacle tart before Crabbe and Goyle could get to it all, and as they all tucked in to their sweets, he listened as one of the older students began to explain who the different people along the Head Table where.

"-and Rubeus Hagrid, he's the giant one, is the gamekeeper. Next to him is Professor Vectra, she's also an ex-Slytherin, and she teaches Arithmancy. The tiny one next to her is Professor Flitwick, he is the Head of Ravenclaw House and also teaches Charms, he's a pretty good teacher. You all already know McGonagall and Dumbledore. Next to him is Professor Snape, our Head of House, who teaches Potions. You can trust him to have your back, but whatever you do don't piss him off, he-"

"Ah!"

As discretely as he could, he grabbed the table in a vice-grip, even as the gasp of pain fell from his lips, the very second he'd made eye contact with Professor Snape, over the back of a purple robe clad man, wearing a turban (sometimes magic things was just plain weird), he felt a flair of pain from his forehead, right over where his scar was.

He felt the others' eyes on him, and decided to ignore them, as he asked the older man, "Who's that speaking to Professor Snape?"

"That? That's Professsor Quirell, he used to teach Muggle Studies before he left. Now he's back, but the only vacant post was for Defence Against the Dark Arts", he shot the turbaned man a look of mild disdain, "bloody useless class that one, trust me, the teacher changes every year, so there's no consistency. You'd all be better off learning it yourselves than from your teachers. There's a copy of the syllabus in the library", he added the last part as an afterthought, seemingly speaking mostly to himself.

His descriptions of the members of the staff table were cut short when the puddings disappeared, vanishing from people's plates, and the Great Hall fell into silence once more, as the Headmaster rose to his feet.

"Ahem", he cleared his throat as he sent them all another wide smile, "now that we've all eaten our fill, and before i allow you retire for the evening, there are a few more start of term announcements I would like to make. To begin with, I would like you all to join me in welcoming back Professor Quirinus Quirrell, who has returned from his personal sojourn around the world, and will now be taking a position as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor", there was a small pause, while they all applauded politely, "now, all First Years should be aware the forest surrounding part of the grounds is forbidden, and therefore is out of bounds to all students", his eyes swept the room, as he seemingly made eye contact with every first year in the room, "and a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well", and his eyes seemed to linger in the direction of the Weasley Twins.

"Mister Filch, our caretaker, has also asked me to remind you that no magic should be attempted in the corridors between classes, and that a full list of our school's forbidden items is available from his office, should you wish to peruse it", he nodded in the direction of a sour looking man stood of to the side of the hall, cuddling a tabby cat close to his chest, "quidditch trials will also be held in the third week of term. Please see Madam Hooch for more details"

"On a more positive note, Hogwarts is happy to announce that this year marks the return of the Inter-House Duelling Tournament", he paused there as the expected excited whispering broke out across the hall, and he gave them several moments of gossip, before he pressed on, "the first week of the tournament will take place in the Spring, with details to follow much closer to the time, I would recommend getting in some practice time before then, should you wish to participate, and finally…"

He regarded them with a look of utmost regard, "I must tell you all, that the Third Floor corridor on the right hand side is now completely out of bounds, to anyone who does not wish to die, a most painful death"

Startled, Harry took a look at some of the older students around the room, and he could see that they all looked as worried as he felt.

"And on that note", Dumbledore looked much more relaxed now, smiling merrily at them once more, "I think I've held you all up long enough, there are lessons to be had tomorrow, and I find that our brains work best with a good night's sleep. Now, best be off with you"

They all stood at the Headmaster's words, as the other houses piled out, the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws headed up the stairs, while the Hufflepuffs made their way down a corridor off to the side of the Great Hall.

The older students wearing prefect badges sorted the others Slytherins into a single file line, while the same prefect that had spoken to them during dinner had made sure they all looked presentable, before the entire house left the hall, moving as a single unit into the Hogwarts dungeons.

They walked through several similar-looking hallways, each one made of the same dull, brown stone, and Harry made sure to take note of where every twist and turn was for future reference, including where the Potions Lab and Professor Snape's Office were, as they walked past them.

Eventually, they all turned a corner, reaching what appeared to be a dead end, but they were quickly proven wrong, when the Seventh Year Prefect leading them from the front spoke up, loudly proclaiming, "Aconite", and the wall in front of them lowered itself, sliding away, and for the first time, the new First Years all walked into the Slytherin common room.

The room was cast in a light green glow, spreading across the room and emanating from the ceiling, as the large fireplace crackled away, and the portrait frame that hung above it was empty. There were a dozen, cushy-looking chintz armchairs and four much longer couches pushed against the walls, though if he had to hazard a guess, then Harry would've said they were usually spread about the room.

But for now, they were all pushed to the sides, as the First Years were made to line up, facing the fireplace, with the Second Years coming to stand behind them, before the Third Years arrived, and everyone else lined up behind them in year order, until the Seventh Years took their place at the very back, with the Prefects stood out at the sides.

And then, with a completely blank face, Professor Snape stepped through the still-open wall, letting it slide back shut behind him, and took his place at the front and centre of the room, ignoring the Bloody Baron as he drifted down through the ceiling, looking at them all with a critical eye from the corner of the room he hovered in.

"Welcome, all of you, to Slytherin House", Professor Snape's drawling voice brought everyone's attention immediately to him, his voice lacked any real passion, more smooth than anything, but he spoke with the seriousness of a man delivering the gravest of news, and with a pride that burned behind his eyes - no one doubted that he meant everything what he was saying, "I trust that you will all work to make this house proud", he ran his eyes over all of them in turn, and if Harry wasn't mistaken, they lingered on him much longer than anyone else, "now, these are the Slytherin rooms"

He swept his hand across the room, before pointing out the various doorways, "This is the House's communal room. You will also find that we have our own small, private library, the books of which are not to be taken past the exit to the Dungeons, as well as a few extra rooms that can be used for leisure and some different types of studying, which are spread about the place. Do, of course, try not to damage them"

"There are no dormitories here like elsewhere in the castle", he gestured to the single spiral staircase off to the left side of the room, "Below us, as we are under the Black Lake, you will find that Slytherin House was built to go downwards for excess space, each year group will find that you have your own small common room, separate bathrooms for males and females of course, and you will each have one of the small individual rooms, which are off of the corridor away from your common room. These", his eyes hardened at them all, "are luxuries that the other houses do not have the privilege of receiving. Slytherin House will always take care of its own, and even after we have all finished our education, and moved on to greener pastures, the more generous of our former students continue to look out for us. First Year students are at the very bottom, and the Seventh Years will have the top floor. None of this is to be shared with anyone that is not a member of Slytherin House"

He ran his eyes across the First Years once more, scowling at them each in turn.

"We are the House that is defined by our ambition, our sly, and our cunning, therefore I will expect nothing from you, but that you do your very best in every aspect of your schooling, and that you act with a level of decorum at all times. That goes for each and every single one of you. Anyone who has a problem with this is more than free to leave"

He ran his eyes over them once more in a silent dare, and Harry was sure he heard a few gulps coming from behind him, "We are a House that prides itself on our unity. If you have a problem with another member of your House, then you will handle it privately, and not in the corridors like some dull-minded Gryffindor thug"

Professor Snape nodded curtly, and two of the prefects stepped forward. The same one that had been guiding them so far, and a girl that Harry thought had been speaking to Pansy earlier, "First Years, these are the Sixth Year prefects, Bartholomew Lucan and Lucinda Duvallon. If you have any queries, then you are to speak to them first, they will endeavour to assist you, and if necessary, they will forward you on to me if they think I am required to intervene. Are there any questions?"

When nobody spoke, he nodded, satisfied with himself, "No? Then, all of you, get to bed. First Years will have orientation with me, beginning at exactly nine o'clock, here in the common room tomorrow morning. Goodnight"

And with that, he strode straight out of the room, as, grumbling, everyone else made their way to their dormitories.

Moving as a collective unit, Harry and the other First Years made their way to the very bottom of the staircase, only to find a single stretch of brick wall, which did nothing when Draco loudly proclaimed "Aconite", and then, feeling slightly lost, they all stared at the wall, until Morag, using her timid voice from the back of their group, told them that they'd walked past their door.

They backtracked slightly, feeling slightly embarrassed, following Morag up the last dozen steps, until they reached the final door they'd already walked past; it was made of a dark mahogany, but up near the top of the door was a lone brass plaque, that quite clearly read:

'FIRST YEARS'

Supressing the slight urge to roll his eyes at their own collective obliviousness, Harry walked straight through the doors, leading the way into the First Years' common room.

From where he was stood at the door, there was another fireplace to his left, identical to the one in the common room, though it was slightly smaller than the main one, with no portrait above it, there were three comfy looking couches around it, along with five chintz armchairs and a single chaise longue, all of which surrounded a collection of small tables, and were each upholstered in emerald green silk. Off to the right were two doors labelled 'Bathroom', with two other plates beneath them saying 'boys' and 'girls', and then in the distance was a corridor of small doors, that presumably led to their bedrooms.

Excitedly, they all walked down the corridor, looking at the doors, only to find the name plates on them were blank.

"Well then", Draco's voice drawled across from where he was stood next to the very first door on the left hand side, "I'm having this room then"

He pushed the door open, and those nearest to him watched as the words 'Draco Malfoy' appeared on the door's brass plate, in a neat black scripture, before they all rushed off to do the same, as the girls argued over who was getting the room nearest the bathroom.

Harry fought not to roll his eyes as the boys did the same thing, and, catching the eye of Daphne Greengrass, who was doing the exact same as he was, he smirked at her, and thought he caught a glimpse of one in return, before she turned away quickly, letting herself be drawn into the argument by Tracey Davis.

Draco kept the room closest to the bathroom, with Crabbe in the room next to him, and then Goyle, Theodore and Blaise, in that order, with Harry taking the room at the very end of the corridor, furthest away from the rest of the place, without a word in protest.

On the other side of the corridor, Pansy took the room opposite Draco, with Millicent opposite Crabbe, then Morag, Tracey, with Daphne taking the room opposite Blaise, leaving the last room opposite Harry, empty.

He pushed open the door, stopping only to watch as 'Hadrian Potter' appeared in black cursive against the brass nameplate, and found that his school trunk was already inside.

How? Oh right…

Magic you fool.

Inside his new room, there was a modest, queen sized bed pushed against the far right corner, which was, like everything else was, covered in emerald silk covers and deep, midnight black sheets, all of which was made with silver stitching, and had a small wooden bed-side table next to the head. To the immediate right of the door was a small desk, with a shelving unit pushed up against the adjoining wall, hidden behind the door, which he immediately decided was going to hold all of his books, rather than leaving them hidden inside his trunk. The left wall held the wardrobe and chest of drawers, and all of the wood in the room was coloured by the deep, dark brown shade, of polished mahogany wood.

Feeling slightly more awake now than when he had first walked in, he pulled open his trunk, and began to unpack his things.

He started by hanging up all of his robes up, in the wardrobe, placing his dragonhide boots in, so that they were sitting on the floor below them.

He took the rest of his clothes, and his underwear, picking them up, out of his trunk, keeping them folded neatly, before placing them in the chest of drawers. His socks and underwear, followed by his shirts, then his trousers, and his jumpers got the bottom drawer.

Happy with the way everything was stored, he moved his books onto the bookshelf, arranging them alphabetically by the author's surnames, and wiping away non-existent dust until he was happy with the way they looked on his shelves.

He left everything else inside of his trunk, moving it around so that he could clearly see everything, and only taking out his bright white, yew wood wand stand, placing it neatly on the centre of his bedside table, before he began stripping out of his robes, placing them over the back of his desk chair, and climbing into his pyjamas, looking forward to the coming day.

After he had placed his wand stand on the small bedside table and then gotten changed, he removed his wand holster from its place on his wrist, placing it too, on the bedside table as he placed his wand onto its place on the stand, where Ollivander had told him it would self-clean and lightly polish itself, before he removed his glasses, and finally climbed into bed.

He was impressed by how comfortable it was, as his body seemed to melt into the sheets, the bed melding around his body, and nestling himself into the pillows, he had no trouble falling into a deep sleep, drifting off before his head had even finished settling properly into the pillow.

Chapter Text

'The capacity to learn is a gift; the ability to learn is a skill; the willingness to learn is a choice'

-Brian Herbert

Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Power

Part Nine

Harry Potter & the Whispers of Desire

Chapter Nine: The First Week

" AVADA KEDAVRA!"

A flash of green lit up the room, and he could feel the burning pain from the backlash of power, the burning pain coursing throughout the room.

" Alex! Harry!"

Startled from his slumber, Hadrian 'Harry' Potter felt himself shoot up, into a sitting position on his bed, with a thin layer of cold sweat coming over him, plastering his fringe to his forehead, as he fumbled about for his glasses, which had been left on the small table next to him.

Finding them, he immediately slipped them on, feeling infinitely safer as the world came clearly into view around him, and he found that he was still alone, in his new room, and without a green light in sight.

Still breathing heavily, he snatched up his wand from its place on its stand, and held it out in front of him, whispering the word, "Tempus", which he'd seen one of the older Slytherin students do during the Welcome Feast.

Nothing happened.

He frowned.

Why isn't it working? They all made it look easy last night.

His mind instantly went back to one of his books, the warnings about focus and mentality flashing through his mind.

Intent… always remember that magic is all about intent… about focusing your mind… your willpower.

Of course, it said so in my curses book, he remembered it now. There was an entire fourteen page chapter dedicated to explaining that to be successful at spell casting, a user had to mean to do what he wanted, it wasn't enough to just 'say the silly words' and 'foolishly wave a magic stick'.

A true sense of focus was needed - something most people struggled with.

But I will not.

And with that, he focused all of his mental faculties on his goal of seeing the current time in front of him.

He needed to know what time it was, as he raised his wand in front of his face.

"Tempus"

His words were firm, but quiet, and he was rewarded with a light blue ribbon of light, which shot out from the tip of his wand, twisting itself to form figures that hung themselves in the air.

06:52

It wasn't even seven o'clock yet.

And then he felt giddy - ecstatic even - as a warm bubble crept its way up, staring in his stomach, moving into his chest, and then spreading throughout his body.

He'd just cast his first ever bit of magic.

Deciding to leave his wand in his room for now, he placed it back onto the stand, which would keep it dirt and dust free, and ventured out into the First Years' area.

The small lanterns that hung onto the walls between the doors to each bedroom were lit, but they only served to give off a very dim light, almost with the understanding that everyone else was probably still asleep.

The fire in the common room was also still going, but the flames were small enough to only properly heat the seats closest to it, and cast the rest of the room in a small, dull warmth.

Feeling like he needed something to do, he decided to take a look at their bathroom.

Pushing the door open on its hinges, he immediately saw that it was split into two parts. If he walked off to his left, then he could see that there were toilets and urinals set up, along with several sinks. The floor was tiled in charcoal grey, but it wasn't cold to his feet at all, it was slightly warm.

The facilities were all made from bright white porcelain, with solid silver handles and taps, and he saw that the far wall had seven small, silver cabinets that bore their names, so that they could each store their toiletries in there.

Harry walked back through the room, and made his way into the other side, which looked to be similar to the first half. The floor was again, covered in the warm, charcoal grey tiles, and everything else was still made of white porcelain and glass.

Along the wall that was shared with the sinks on the other side, were four, rather spacious shower cubicles, that had frosted glass for panelling, so that people in the room couldn't see inside of the shower. Directly opposite them, were changing six, slightly smaller, but still reasonably large, walled areas, each one with a lockable door, where they could get dressed and undressed in private, and along the very far wall, sat three, rather luxurious, claw-foot bathtubs.

The last pieces of furniture in the two rooms, were a shelving unit that was stacked high with dark green and black fluffy towels, and ran alongside the same wall as the door, and a plain black basket, which was a place for them to put their used towels in after their ablutions.

Deciding that the showers looked too good to pass up, and that now it wasn't too early to get a start on his first day of schooling, he decided to take a shower.

Thirty minutes later and feeling completely refreshed, Harry stepped outside the bathroom.

He'd returned to his room, to get out his school robes and boots for the day, along with his toiletries, before he'd set back off to the bathroom, placing everything into one of the changing areas, before grabbing a black fluffy towel, stripping out of his pyjamas, and stepping into the nearest shower.

The temperature and water pressure were perfect for him, despite the fact that he hadn't had to select anything, and the shampoo and body wash never seemed to diminish, no matter how much he used, in what he knew was going to be a failed attempt to flatten and neaten up his hair.

When he was done, he grabbed the towel from where it was hung over the side, and began towelling himself dry as the steam seemed to vanish into thin air, before wrapping it snugly around his waist, he stepped back out of the cubicle.

Noticing that the bathroom was still empty, he walked over quickly and stepped into his changing area, closing the door behind him, locking himself in as he dressed.

When he added the black robe over his school shirt and trousers, he noticed for the first time that morning, that the black trim of his robe, had been changed into the same shade of silver that adorned the Slytherin banners from the Welcoming Feast, and that the Hogwarts crest, which had (supposedly) been hand-stitched over the left side of his breast, had been changed into the crest of Slytherin House.

Wondering just who had snuck into his room during the night to change them, Harry made sure that his shirt was buttoned all the way to the top, and after he had finished brushing his teeth in the nearest sink, he collected his pyjamas, before walking out of the bathroom, ready to start his first day.

And bumped straight into Tracey and Daphne, who were carrying their school clothes to the bathroom.

And only wearing their nightdresses.

They locked eyes with each other, the girls gave his uniform an approving look, as he took in the fact that they were in their own pyjamas, before both girls gave a startled shriek, realising they weren't dressed, and dove past him and into their bathroom.

Biting his lip so they wouldn't hear him chuckling at them, Harry shook his head lightly, as he made his way back into his room, and stopped in the doorway, running his eyes over the room.

The bed had been made.

He'd left it in a mess - that much was certain - and now, the covers had been straightened perfectly, and the pillows had been fluffed up and straightened against the headboard, with the drapes pulled against the bed corners, and tied back with perfect knots of silver rope.

But the most obvious thing was the emerald and silver coloured scarf and tie, which were now hanging over the edge of the wardrobe.

They had definitely not been there earlier.

Which meant that someone had been in while he was showering.

That thought disturbed him.

Still though, after checking that everything was still where it was supposed to be, he was just happy that at least the bed had been made.

He slipped his pyjamas under the pillows on the bed, before slipping his wand holster onto his wrist, and sliding his wand into place.

Testing to see if it worked, he flicked his wrist out, feeling all thirteen inches of yew slide forward instantly, snapping out silently, and coming to rest in his waiting palm.

"Tempus"

07:28

Feeling better about himself now, knowing that he had plenty of time left in the morning before they had to be assembled in the common room for their orientation with Professor Snape, he hung his scarf up in his wardrobe and tied a Windsor knot around his neck, before he decided to check in on Blaise.

Stepping out of his room, and over to the next door, he knocked twice on the door, and then politely waited.

No response.

He knocked another two times, waiting patiently, but receiving no reply either time, so he decided to open the door.

He pushed the door open with a flourish, striding into the room only to find Blaise wrapped around the covers, tangled with them in such a way that Harry couldn't figure out just how he was going to separate himself from them.

"He-hem", he cleared his throat, "Blaise, time to wake up"

The dark skinned, half-Italian half-Englishman turned over in his sleep, murmuring to himself, as he nestled further into his pillow.

Seriously.

Just wake him up already and be done with this.

Deciding how to best handle the situation, Harry calmly walked over to the end of the bed, before grabbing the edge of his covers, and pulling with all his might.

With an undignified 'squawk' of surprise, Blaise found himself lying in a crumpled heap on his floor, glaring up at his friend, while Harry attempted to supress his laughter at the sight of him looking as ruffled as he did. He lost the fight to contain his giggles when the covers floated gently down through the air, to settle on Blaise's head, covering him from sight, and he let out a round of laughter.

"Come on, breakfast started over half an hour ago and we have orientation this morning as well", he levelled Blaise with a straight stare, as he coughed away what remained of his laughter, "and I really don't think we should be late to that"

Grumbling about being dumped on the floor, Blaise gathered himself up from the floor, and took in Harry's already dressed appearance and gave him an approving nod, "Fine, fine, I'm up, I'm up, now…", Blaise levelled him with a glare, "get out"

Harry lingered long enough to watch Blaise start to gather his things from his trunk instead of going back to sleep, before he left the room, and Blaise, behind.

He returned to his own bedroom, settling at his desk with his copy of Hogwarts: A History, and continued from where he had left off reading two days prior, with 'Chapter Four: The Four Founders'.

He read through the chapter, trying to read between the lines of the author's opinionated work, (Harry personally thought that author hadn't actually done any real research into Hogwarts), before a single knock on his door, brought him out of his reverie.

He stepped away from his desk, to find Blaise at his door, cleaned, dressed and well-groomed, with his dark hair brushed over to the side perfectly, sweeping across the edge of his face, and his teeth sparkling at him in a smug grin.

"Ready to go?"

"Sure", he slipped a piece of scrap parchment into his book to mark his page, before he set it back onto his bookshelf, and stepped out of his room, allowing the door to swing shut behind him, falling into step with Blaise as they made their way out of the corridor, pausing only as Morag stepped out of her room, smiling shyly, from behind a curtain of light brown hair, at them, as she had the day before.

"Going to breakfast?"

She nodded her head at Harry, before she finally found her words, "Yes… I was just going to get Millie"

Blaise snickered beside him, "Millie?"

She turned a bright shade of red at her revelation, and Harry felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips, as he watched Morag's red deepen even further in response, "Would you like us to wait for the two of you?"

Wordlessly, she nodded, before moving to knock on the other girl's door, and once Millicent appeared, fully-dressed, the four of them, all decked out in robes that proudly displayed their emerald and silver colours, made their way out of Slytherin House, pausing only to let the wall to the Dungeons reveal the way, as Harry led the way into the Great Hall for breakfast.

Harry had barely stepped through the double doors that led to breakfast, and taken a few steps when he felt people's eyes being to fall on him.

A few quick glances out of the corner of his eye were all that was needed to tell him that people all over the Hall were shooting curious glances at him, some of them were even staring outright, as though he were a particularly difficult puzzle they were trying to solve.

Refusing to even look over at the Gryffindor table, and doing his best to ignore the other two, he took a seat directly opposite Blaise, keeping his back to the rest of the Hall's occupants, and focusing solely on his own house. He chose to focus on the ongoing debate between Millicent and Blaise, over a quidditch game that had taken place a few weeks before the start of term.

He caught Morag's eyes and rolled his own, causing her to snort lightly into her orange juice, and for the third time that same morning, she turned bright red, causing Harry to bite down on his lip to prevent himself from laughing at her, as she attempted to bury herself into her cereal.

They made small talk over their toast and cereal, as they were slowly joined by the rest of their year-mates. Daphne and Tracey joined them not long after the quidditch talk had finished, and then the discussion moved over to their lessons, as their timetables were handed out by Lucan and Lucinda, while Professor Snape was speaking with some of the older students.

Eventually Theo walked in, looking as well-groomed as Blaise, though without all of the presentation as he rubbed the last of the sleep from his eyes. Not long after he arrived, Draco and Pansy were the two of the last to join them, as they walked in flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

Draco was mid-rant over why Potions was going to be the best lesson, going against the strong arguments for Charms from Daphne, and for Astronomy from Blaise. Even Morag, though she was still much quieter than everyone else at the table, had tried to make a small argument for Transfiguration.

He didn't know enough about magic in general to argue for or against any of their lessons, but the one Harry was most looking forward to was Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Their arguing was broken up only by the return of the Sixth Year prefects, who told them they had ten minutes to get back to the dungeons in time for orientation, so quickly finishing what was left of their meals, they moved as a group into the dungeons, and made their way back towards the Slytherin common room.

They filed in, and, finding Professor Snape already waiting for them in front of the fire, they lined up the same way they had the night before, waiting as he dismissed Lucan and Lucinda for their morning lessons, stood in complete silence, as he ran his stony grey eyes over them all, taking in everything from their hair to the state of their robes.

"I trust that there were no problems this morning?" His eyes lingered on them all as he spoke, using the same dispassionate, yet serious tone as he had the night before, and he waited as they all shook their heads, before speaking again, "Very well then. The point of this orientation is to welcome you all to Slytherin House, and to make you aware of what it is I expect from each of you…"

His voice trailed off, as he continued to run his eyes over each of them, "You will find that this house has a rather, shall we say, unsavoury reputation due to the events of the last war. Several key members of the Dark Lord's lieutenants were discovered to be former members of this fine house, and it is a stigma that has not yet been rubbed out in the years since. I will say this once", his gaze hardened instantly, "being a member of Slytherin House does not make you a junior Death Eater. I care very little for blood purity. I am only, and I mean only, concerned with your focus, your talents and your ability. I will only allow the best to remain in this house, and if you wish to remain, then I expect you all to succeed. Am I clear?"

They all nodded.

"Good", the intensity of his gaze lessened slightly, "I expect each of you to perform to the absolute best of your ability. There will be no slacking off in this house. As you should have heard last night, the Inter-House Duelling Tournament will be returning to the school in the spring, and as I have already decided where in my office I am going to be storing the trophy, it should come as no surprise that I am expecting a Slytherin victory. While I may have been forbidden to give you any knowledge on the subject ahead of time, as it is meant to be something of a surprise, what I will say, is that is if any of you enjoy a good night's read, then I will suggest Hogwarts: A History, as I find some of it, especially Chapter Twenty-Seven to be quite insightful"

From his height above them, looming over them where he could see everything, he watched as a few of his young charges smirked to themselves - it seemed they weren't completely stupid after all.

"You will find a number of the students from the other houses, and perhaps even some of your professors will look down on you for wearing that green crest upon your robes", his nose twitched, "it is not a Dark Mark. I expect you to look respectable at all times, both inside these walls and out. You will wear your uniform with pride, and remember that you represent your house whenever you are outside these walls. Now, follow me, and keep up"

And so began their orientation tour.

Professor Snape had nothing but their full and undivided attention as he showed them the way to navigate the castle's grounds.

He started with the dungeons, everything from their communal room to the Potions Labs, then he led them around the corridors to his and Mister Filch's offices, before taking them back upstairs.

A quick trip to the outside was needed for them to be shown where the Herbology Greenhouses were, and they also had the Forbidden Forest, Black Lake, gamekeeper's hut and the quidditch pitch pointed out to them. They were given a few minutes to look over the different paths that linked the different areas from their place at the entrance to the school, but they were soon led back inside, rather than being made to trudge through the grounds on their first day.

They already knew the Entrance Hall and the Great Hall, so they were ignored as Professor Snape took them straight through to the main body of the building, taking a circular route, he made sure to bring their attention to the school's main five towers; each one formed part of the castle's support, before ensuring that they were aware of the locations for their Transfiguration classroom, which Morag looked especially interested in, while Draco looked completely bored at the very thought of the lesson. It probably didn't help that it was right next door to the Deputy Headmistress' Office.

A brief foray into the adjoining courtyard showed them where they would be having their flying lessons in a few weeks, as well as the location of the school's gobstones club and the staffroom.

Once they had been seen, including a brief sighting of Professor McGonagall, as she made her way to her class, they headed back towards the grand staircase, and up to the first floor.

The first floor's layout was almost identical to that of the ground floor, with two girls' lavatories - one of which was deemed to be permanently out of order - and the classrooms for Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Muggle Studies, as well as the school's 'lost wands' room and the Hospital Wing.

The second floor was set out in a slightly different manner to the other two, though it was still quite similar, with most of the castle's west wing set aside for the rest of the Hospital Wing and the Matron's Office. There was also a number of professor's offices, as well as classrooms for Advanced Arithmancy, which wasn't available until they were sixteen years old, and Care of Magical Creatures, which was rarely used, as most of the classes took place outside.

The third floor held their Charms classroom, which was going to be their first lesson after lunch, so they all made note of its position opposite the staircase. The third floor was much larger than the previous floors, and held the school's trophy room, as well as its ancient armoury, which held all of the medieval weapons the school had. The room set aside for the 'frog choir' was briefly pointed out to them as Professor Snape led the way to the library, which they were told would become a safe haven for them when their end of year exams became much closer.

The fourth floor held additional space for the armoury and trophy room, as well as the school library's restricted section - which was heavily warded, and could only be gained access to, via a teacher-signed permission slip and admission from Madam Pince, the school's librarian. Opposite the Restricted Section, was a medium-sized silent study room and the Chess Club's meeting space.

The final place pointed out to them on the fourth floor was the Headmaster's Office, hidden behind a huge stone carving of a Griffin - which they all couldn't help but think was a blatant show of obvious favouritism - and they were warned never to be called into it, or they would face Professor Snape's displeasure.

They all shuddered slightly at the tone of voice he used.

The fifth floor was largely bypassed, as all that held any potential interest to them was the Wizard Card Collectors' Club, as all of the classrooms on that floor, were dedicated to the extra-curricular classes they would take when they were thirteen.

The sixth floor was much the same as the fifth, with the only noteworthy locations, in Harry's mind, being the writing supplies storeroom across from the staircase and the large duelling classroom, tucked away in one of the corners of the building.

The seventh (and final) floor of the main building was dedicated to more offices and mostly-empty classrooms. They were taken along the main corridor, walking past dozens of Gryffindors, all of whom steered very clear of Professor Snape, and headed towards a staircase in the south-west corner; that spiral staircase would take them to straight the very top of one of the school's towers, which was where they would be having their first astronomy lesson, later that same day, but taking place at ten o'clock at night.

Satisfied that he had shown them everything important, and receiving a negative when he asked if they had any questions, Professor Snape led them back down to the first floor, shepherding them into the Hospital Wing, where a very stern looking Madam Pomfrey was waiting for them.

They were all made to sit on one of the beds, there being enough for one each, and had to stay perfectly still as she ran her wand over all of them, muttering to herself as she went along the room, scratching notes down on her clipboard at the end of every review.

She spent nearly twice as much time with Harry and Theo as she did with everyone else, before she shoved a large gobletful of a foul-tasting potion down both of their throats, nodding happily when they both gagged at the taste, but swallowed it down anyway.

Follow-up appointments were set for the two of them; one month to the day.

Once everyone had been deemed 'clear' by the school's matron, they congregated in the hallway, awaiting the return of their Head of House, who reappeared with Harry and Theo in tow. Both boys took their place with their classmates, before his gaze swept across all of them.

"I shall trust that you are all now capable of finding your way back to your common room from here. You will have your first Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons this afternoon, of which, the first one is just after lunch. I advise that you collect your bags and take them to lunch with you, so that you won't be late and lose us any house points on your first day"

Taking it as the dismissal it was, all eleven of them trudged back down towards their common room, collecting their things, before they all headed for lunch.

"Now, I'm sure you're all anxious to get started on your very first lesson, but before we begin, please, since you have all brought your wands with you, tell me, have any of you successfully tried to cast any spells yet? Please, please, raise your hands"

Professor Flitwick was a very small man, barely four feet tall, but very excitable. He'd given a small squeak when he'd read Harry's name off of his register, shooting him a look over his tiny desk that made him feel as though the tiny professor wanted to put him through the rigour, just to see what would happen.

From his place stood on top of his desk, he ran his eyes across them all, looking completely disappointed as some of the Hufflepuffs shook their heads and some of the Slytherins looked caught somewhere between embarrassed and completely upset.

Feeling slightly hesitant, Harry raised his hand, and felt the wide eyes of his surprised classmates eyes fall onto him, as he ignored them, in favour of Professor Flitwick's grin, as he clapped his hands together.

"Ooh-hoo, very well done then, Mister Potter. If you would be so kind, would you care to demonstrate for us?"

Wordlessly, he nodded, and used his left hand to draw his wand from its place in the holster of his right wrist, instead of just flicking it out into his hand.

Let's not have them staring at us all day.

Be smart… and don't draw attention to yourself like that… let's not give away a future advantage we may still need…

He passed his wand into his right hand, and raising it, he caught the professor's stare directed solely at his wand, and remembering what Ollivander had told him about yew wands being extremely rare, he decided to ignore it, as he raised his wand in front of him.

"Tempus"

Like it had earlier in the morning, the silver-blue ribbons flowed out of his wand, twisting themselves into the numbers in the air.

13:27

There was a brief splatter of applause from their Charms Professor, which he saw some of the other students join in with, albeit begrudgingly, as the numbers faded from view.

"Well done Mister Potter. Take five well-earned points for Slytherin for a perfectly cast time charm"

After gaining some points for his house, and receiving a surprised look from Blaise, who was sat to his left, beside him, they all settled back into their chairs as Flitwick began his lecture on their first spell - the levitation charm.

When Harry had imagined a magic school, he'd had images of lightning bolts and fire being flung around, people turning into frogs and the like. He knew that whatever he'd seen on the Dursley's television, or read about in old story books was probably wrong, but he still held the image in his head.

He could now consider that image to be completely shattered.

After a forty minute lecture on the spell itself, as well as general wand safety, they were given the last ten minutes of their lesson to practice the charm, which consisted on wand waving, spell muttering and a lot of nothing after Professor Flitwick demonstrated the spell by sending feathers zooming out to all of them, from where they had been resting on his desk. Having already read the theory before the lesson, harry had used the lesson mostly as a recap, taking notes on the small hints and tips Flitwick was giving them that the book couldn't provide, while everyone else was scrabbling to write down every word he said.

When they were given the 'go ahead' to be allowed to practice casting the spell, Harry picked his wand up from where he had left it on the desk in front of him, and keeping it held tightly in his grip, he focused on making the feather in front of him levitate.

Okay, so it's the 'swish and flick' movement I need to use.

The problem though, is that wand movements are inherently foolish - they can basically give away your entire spell… now, using raw power can overcome the need for the wasted time of the wand movement.

The problem with that though, being that I don't have that kind of power… not yet anyway - so I need to use a certain wand movement in order to channel the magic properly...

He focused on the feather in front of him, he focused on making it levitate, picturing it moving, needing it to lift itself up, as he waved his wand in the same 'swish-and-flick' manner that had been clearly drawn for them on the blackboard.

"Wingardium Leviosa"

And then, gently at his command, the pure white feather lifted itself into the air, lightly swaying from side to side with the gentle shaking of his hand, as he held his arm in front of him, keeping it hovering in front of his face, even as Professor Flitwick gave him another little clap, knocking his concentration, and sending the feather gently falling back down to his desk.

"Oh, well done indeed Mister Potter, and it was very well controlled too. So many students often send it flying into the ceiling their first few attempts. For that, you can take another ten, very well deserved points for Slytherin"

He felt his cheeks redden slightly, even as Blaise smirked beside him, knocking him with his arm in a friendly gesture, and he felt himself burn with pride. If he could keep this up in all of his classes, he'd have Slytherin's House points in triple digits by the end of the week all by himself.

He spent the last five minutes of the lesson attempting to help Pansy and Blaise with the spell, who were both sat on either side of him. Blaise mostly worked alone, while Pansy got more and more frustrated as he attempted to explain the idea behind the spell to her, but she was too upset about her inability to cast the spell to care about listening to him, and Harry was just thankful when the lesson finally ended.

Lessons in general, Harry came to find, were both interesting and tedious. He loved the material but thought they were tedious, because all of his constant pre-preparation not only made the theory aspects feel repetitive, but it also made the application almost too easy for him to grasp.

Between his understanding of the spells, and the knowledge and his understanding of intent that nobody else had seemed to grasp - which he wasn't about to go around and start sharing - he just kept gaining points in classes, much to the favour of his peers, and the disdain of the other three houses.

Charms was one of his favourite classes, as he enjoyed the applications of the spells that they covered, especially as Professor Flitwick kept encouraging to push himself further, and by the end of the first week, he had learned not only the time charm and levitation charm, but also the basics of the 'Lumos' spell, which he could use to conjure a small ball of light at the tip of his wand.

Herbology was, in his mind, one of the duller subjects, which was an opinion that seemed to be the shared with the other members of his house and a few of the Ravenclaws, with whom they shared the class. It reminded him far too much of when he was forced to do the Dursley's gardening for him to enjoy it.

In their house, only Millicent seemed to really enjoy it as a lesson.

Professor Sprout was a warm, slightly chubby woman with mousy grey hair, and was the Head of Hufflepuff House. She always wore yellow over-robes, and a large pointed hat which were both usually caked in mud during teaching hours, and she took great pride in her students and her greenhouses.

History of Magic was by far the worst subject though, which Harry found doubly disappointing - not only did he think that learning about all of magic's past would be great, but the lessons were also taught by an actual ghost - the only ghost at Hogwarts that seemed to teach anything.

The excitement of that however, wore off ten minutes into their first lesson, when Professor Binns' monotone voice had taken the register and began lulling them into wanting to fall asleep at their desks. How a ghost could make bloody and vicious goblin rebellions sound so dull and lifeless was far beyond Harry's understanding.

It was a piece of knowledge that he thought he'd never be able to figure out.

Their first astronomy lesson had taken place on Monday, at midnight, with Professor Sinistra, and while it was interesting to view the night sky, and to study the different planets and stars, in an attempt to figure out and understand just how they aligned and how they could be used with different types of spells, Harry didn't feel any real excitement with the lesson - he just attended it because he had to.

He'd much rather have his own extremely expansive repertoire of spells, so that the movements of the heavens wouldn't pose a problem to him, or just make sure that he had enough power to overcome the difference.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was just the complete and utter opposite of what they were told it would be.

They'd been warned by some of the upper years that Professor Quirrell had taught Muggle Studies up until a little over two years ago, when he'd then decided to take a one year sabbatical to tour the world, which he had later extended into two, before he had returned, this time around, to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. Given that, and the poor history of the subject's teachers, they were all told it would be a dull affair.

Instead, his lessons were the most interesting Harry had sat in so far, with the Professor regaling them with his tales about the various dark creatures he had fought from around the world. His voice was strong and proud, carrying itself as they began their studies into the nature of dark and defensive magic, and why people chose to use it.

Nobody there dared question his passion, or his vast knowledge of his subject.

He kept them all on the edge of their seats, and needless to say, after his first lesson, as he lectured them on the different ways magic could be used defensively, even giving them the names of a few basic jinxes to look up if they were interested, all of which Harry had ensured were written down were he could easily find them later. He hoped they were all covered in his own books, and after his first lesson, Harry made sure he was early for his second one.

Professor McGonagall was the school's Deputy Headmistress, the Head of Gryffindor House, and she taught Transfiguration. She had the uncanny ability to hold her entire class to silence, with her eyes, and without saying a single word. She started her first class by jumping from her desk as a cat and returning to her human self on the way, landing on her own two feet, in the faces of Alex and Ron, who had both turned up late to class.

After docking her own house five house points for tardiness, instantly putting her in the good books of her Slytherin students, she wasted no more time, immediately launching into her first lecture, starting with a warning on the dangers of Transfiguration, and the consequences of their actions, should anyone be caught messing about in her lessons.

Harry had selected a seat near the front of the room, sat with Blaise on his right, and a very reluctant Theo at his left, as he watched on, completely astounded, as she quickly transformed her desk into a pig, before changing it back.

She was strict teacher, but also a mostly fair one; seeming to treat her own house with the same level of strictness as she did the Slytherin students, but he felt he was right in his assessment that she would be an unwise woman to cross.

They then set about their first lesson; attempting to transfigure matches into needles. By the end of their first class only he and the Granger girl had managed to transfigure their matches into needles, earning them both five points apiece, and while he packed his things away, Blaise told him that Granger had also received a genuine smile.

He wasn't sure what to make of that.

And then, the rest of the week seemed to have gone past and it was Friday morning, which meant that it was finally time for their first double Potions lesson.

With the Gryffindors.

And unlike with Transfiguration, Draco had spent a large portion of Thursday evening bragging about how Professor Snape blatantly favoured his own students, and hurled constant abuse at the Gryffindors, and, most interestingly, how Severus Snape hated James Potter.

He'd said it all with a smug expression, directing the last part of it at the Potter that was sat in front of their fire, who ignored him for the most part, as Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle shrieked and guffawed, at his expense; Harry simply continued working his way through his hexes and curses textbook, using one hand to practice the wand motions for 'Rictusempra' - the tickling jinx.

After a few days together, their morning routine was now set, with Harry being the first, First Year to awaken, generally showering and preparing for his day alone, though sometimes Theo would be there too, before he would settle himself in front of the fire to read, whilst he waited for Blaise to drag himself out of bed. The two of them would then head to breakfast, joined by whatever combination of their housemates was awake at the time.

And then, on Friday morning, they made their way back towards the dungeons for their first Potions lesson.

This should be interesting…

I think I might enjoy watching him squirm like a cockroach on the floor.

They milled around the door to the Potions Lab; Draco, Pansy and their two goons were stood next to the door, while the others stood around the open space, blocking the way through to the Slytherin rooms.

It was the end of their first week, and it was obvious that, in a way Harry didn't understand, the lines had been drawn within the house of the serpents.

On one side, Draco Malfoy had taken root, supported firmly by Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle. Without meaning to, Harry had seemingly somehow managed to place himself on the opposite side, with Blaise giving him his full support, (even despite their friendship, he apparently had what he called 'a history' with Draco), and then the others were scattered between them.

He was very friendly with Morag and Tracey, both of whom appeared to be disliked by Pansy and Draco for no real reason whatsoever, which automatically placed them more on his side than on theirs; Millicent, despite her (admittedly rather strange) friendship with Morag, leant more towards Pansy (and therefore Draco), than she did him.

Daphne and Theo seemed to be the only two people that had managed to maintain their complete neutrality.

If he had to guess, then he would say that Daphne was definitely waiting for one side to come out over the other, for one of them to take control of the rest of the Slytherin First Years, before she declared allegiance to one side over the other, given that she flitted between both groups with a casual ease than no one else quite managed.

Smart… and yet… it's almost cowardly in a way…

I think it would do well to remember that.

Theodore Nott on the other hand, didn't actually seem to care which side ended up on top. In fact, he rarely, if ever, gave them his opinion on anyone or anything, which meant that, while he seemed harmless, no one actually knew what his opinions were on most matters.

And that, Harry thought, makes him an unknown variable; makes him the most mysterious person here.

And therefore, the most potentially dangerous.

Harry found his thoughts were interrupted by the thunder of mass shoes on stone flags, and the voices that weren't even trying to be quiet in the usually tranquil dungeon, which could only mean one thing.

The Gryffindors had arrived.

They walked around the corner that separated the Potions Lab from the Entrance Hall en masse, appearing as a single sea of scarlet and gold.

From his place at the very front of the pack, Alex's eyes instantly sought out his twin brother, zoning in, he found him stood near the back of the opening, leant casually against the stone wall, ignoring him as he listened in on a conversation between the three people in front of him.

Two girls Alex didn't recognise, and Blaise Zabini.

He felt the teeth inside of his mouth clench together, clamping down at the very idea of his brother hanging out with him of all people.

"Harry!"

He made extra sure to keep his voice level and as strong as he could, letting it carry itself across the dungeon corridor; instantly making himself heard by everyone within sight of the classroom door. On the other side of the corridor, Harry seemed to give Alex no sign that he'd even heard him, only the slight way he turned his back, giving all of his attention into the conversation in front of him, gave him away, as he dedicated himself to ignoring the stares he was receiving from everybody else.

Feeling bold, Alex crossed the narrow corridor with large strides, walking straight through the crowd of snakes that separated him from his brother. He felt emboldened when Ron fell into step behind him, glad to have the support of his best friend at his back.

Even if he didn't need it.

He stopped less than a foot away from where Harry was stood, as his brother finally turned to face him for the first time since they'd arrived at the school, and for the first time since they'd first met on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Alex could really take the time to get a real look at his brother.

And Harry, Alex found, shared some of his more apparent physical traits with their father.

Harry looked skinnier than both he and his dad were, though their mum was even thinner than Harry was; and while their hair was styled in the same cool way at the back, sticking straight up slightly, and then falling downwards in a natural mess, they both had completely different colours. While his own hair was something of a mix between his father's mahogany brown, and the soft red that framed his mother's face, Harry's was a dark, almost glossy black that seemed to shine in the torchlight.

Beneath his fringe, he could see the single, light-pink, lightning bolt that marked Harry as a survivor from You-Know-Who's attack when they were both babies, and knew that under his own was a mirrored scar - the bright red 'V' - the sign of Voldemort that had marked him as the Boy-Who-Lived.

While his eyes were the exact same as their father's, being slightly round at the tips, and a deep brown in colour, and also, (like Harry's too), hidden behind wire rimmed glasses, his brother's eyes were almost perfectly identical to their mother's, though Harry's were a slightly more vibrant shade of green than the warm sea green of his mum, and it was a shade that set him on edge for some reason.

With the way they were being used to stare straight at him, they just served to make him look almost… scary.

He was bigger than Harry, who was quite narrow - he found he liked that, being bigger than him - but Harry was slightly taller than he was, as the top of his head only came up to the middle of Harry's forehead.

Breathing in once, deeply, summoning up the famed Potter courage his father had brought him up on tales of, he locked eyes with his brother, who stood clad in his emerald-trimmed robes, which were, he grit his teeth at the thought, made of a better material than his own.

He was the one raised as the son of one of the only two remaining Most Ancient and Noble Houses, while Harry had been raised by Aunt Petunia and her family, as a muggle, he didn't even know he was a wizard until two months ago.

And here he was, walking around the halls of Hogwarts after just five days, and already having everyone take notice of him.

Already making his mark as seemingly the best student in Slytherin House - maybe even the year - and looking every bit like one of the pureblooded fanatics that made up the rest of his house, as he casually strolled his way around the school, as though he owned the place.

Looking just like a future Death Eater would.

"Brother-"

"No"

He swallowed again, making an effort to look his brother in the eye as he spoke, "Harry-"

"No"

"Err… what?"

Harry's eyes narrowed ever-so slightly, scrutinising him for a moment, before he relaxed, leaning back into the wall, completely at ease in front of him. With every second his brother's eyes ran over him, Alex felt more and more nervous; Harry looking at him the same way a cat would a particularly amusing mouse.

For the first time since they'd met, he felt the slightest inkling of fear towards his brother.

"You", he didn't miss the extra emphasis Harry put on the one word, "may call me Hadrian, as it is my given name", Alex's eyes grew wide as his mouth opened, causing his brother to smirk at the sight of what seemed to be a particularly amusing fish, "Harry is a nickname I chose to have, one which I allow certain people, of my own choosing, to use"

The smirk became a full blown sneer as he found his brother looming over him, making him lean back slightly, as Alex realised just how well his brother seemed to fit into Slytherin House, with Harry's voice taking on an even deeper chill, "and you", he swallowed at the same malice his brother laced his emphasis with as before, "are not one of those people"

"As amusing as you two are", both brother's attention snapped up to the class' entryway, to find their Potions Master smirking down at the display in front of him, his sheer presence and black cloak taking up the entirety of the door to his classroom. Several of their fellow students looked away, trying to avoid being caught staring, by both, the Head of Slytherin House and the Potter twins, "Both of you are now making everyone else late for class, and so that'll be five points from Gryffindor"

Professor Snape's amused look ran over the rest of the corridor, "Inside. All of you. Now"

And with the distinct undercurrent of authority lacing those two words, the twins dropped their stare down, and filed dutifully into the Potions Lab with the rest of their year, and Alex tried to shake the feeling of Harry's eyes off of his back.

It didn't take long for the Gryffindors to figure out what Harry and the rest of his house had learned after just five minutes of being in his presence.

And that was that, Professor Snape, much like his Gryffindor counterpart, Professor McGonagall, had the ability to hold his entire class to a complete and absolute silence, with nothing more, than a single look, and the silent dare for anyone to attempt to cause trouble.

It was almost a dare to ask for one's own, very slow, very painful, and most certain death.

Harry chose a seat near the back of the room, letting Malfoy and Pansy take the two seats near the front. Millicent shoved Crabbe and Goyle put of the way, claiming the second row for herself, leaving the seat next to her for Morag, who shuffled nervously past the two hulking boys, as they claimed the third row, as Nott took the fourth, pulling Blaise along with him, who looked over to him apologetically, even as he rolled his eyes. He didn't even try to stop Tracey and Daphne from taking the fifth desk, even stepping back to allow them to walk past him, earning him a cool glance from Daphne, and a bright smile from Tracey, and he found himself returning it with a small smile of his own.

He dropped onto the last desk on the right hand side of the room, taking the seat on the left of the desk, and looking up, he saw Alex eyeing him curiously, so he made an over-emphasised show of dropping his bag onto the stool next to him.

From his small desk at the front of his classroom, Severus Snape watched on as the two twin boys were made to sit on opposite sides of the classroom, when Slytherin Potter dropped his schoolbag on the seat next to him.

The look of hurt on Gryffindor Potter's face would have been highly amusing for him, if the other one didn't hold more of his attention.

Just how had young Hadrian managed to be sorted into his house - the House of Snakes?

He'd been asking himself that all week and he still hadn't come up with an answer.

If his memory served him correctly - and he took a brief moment to ensure that it indeed did - then the only Potter he could recall ever being sorted into Slytherin was a Eustace Potter, which was over one hundred and eighty years ago, and even then, she was only a Potter by marriage.

For all the knowledge he possessed, Severus Snape could not fathom a single name, for a born-Potter, who was also a member of Slytherin House in their schooldays.

It just didn't happen.

Ever.

And when Potters are raised by muggles, it certainly shouldn't happen then.

And yet, the Potions Master mused, it has.

Seeing that everyone had seated themselves, he ran a quick eye over his students, seeing that no one had decided to change places, which was another thing that bothered him.

Why did Potter resign himself immediately to the back, when he had a chance to claim the seat at the front?

Where is the ambition in that? Or is the lack of apparent ambition a show of something else? His cunning, perhaps?

Just what are his ambitions?

The Gryffindors on the other hand, had switched, swapped and changed until they were all finally settled, and he cast his eyes down his class list, and used his memories of the sorting to put names to faces.

Other Potter had leapt for the front seat, removing the bushy-haired Granger girl out of his way, and letting Longbottom take the seat next to him, as they were the only two heirs amongst the House's First Years. Granger had then taken the second desk, with a Dean Thomas, who was trying to apologise to the newest Weasley, who was glaring, rather pathetically, at the back of the girl's head, who was either ignoring him, or was just too blind to notice. Weasley himself was sat with Seamus Finnegan on the row behind, followed by a Pavarti Patil (from a foreign, but well-reputed and wealthy house), and Lavender Brown, with the last table occupied by two girls apparently called Sophie Roper and Fay Dunbar.

He was just glad that they'd split into two separate sides. He still remembered the one year the Headmaster had insisted he seat them all in a mixed plan, putting them into mixed-house pairs.

That year was a nightmare he never wanted to have again.

And with that thought in mind, he delved into his lecture.

"-brew fame, bottle glory, and even put a stopper in death"

Finishing his opening speech, which he had perfected over the years, to amaze his new year of students, as well as remind them, that his class was amongst the most dangerous in all of Hogwarts, and he would not tolerate any foolishness or silly wand waving.

Regardless of which house they were in.

Many of them were hanging onto his words, as eager as he liked his newest batch of potential-brewers to look, even if he knew most of them would be proven to be completely useless in the long of it.

The Granger girl was half-hanging out of her seat, inches away from falling off of it; Longbottom looked as though he was about to start whimpering at any moment; and then there was Gryffindor Potter and young Draco, both of whom were ignoring him, choosing to focus on everything else in the room, and he grit his teeth in irritation.

With a quick glance to the back of the room, he expected to find Slytherin Potter doing the same as his brother, but had to hide his surprise as he saw the boy taking notes on what he had already said, being the only student with a quill in his hand.

How very interesting…

"Potter!"

The entire class jumped in their seats, the instant change in volume shocking them, and he supressed a slight smirk at that, looking up to find two pairs of eyes staring at him unwaveringly. He bit the inside of his lip in his irritation, having momentarily forgotten that he would need to be more specific in this particular class.

"Gryffindor Potter", he spat the first word out, before his tone became lighter, "our newest celebrity", he smirked as he received a scowl in response, "tell me Potter, what would I get, if I added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?"

Alex bit the inside of his cheek, as behind him, Granger's hand flew into the air, as she stretched it as high as she could, "I don't know Sir"

The girl was ignored.

"Tut, tut, tut, how disappointing Mister Potter. Let's try another one then, shall we? Tell me, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Again, the girl's hand shot up into the air, stretching as high as it could without her leaving her seat. Snape ignored her, focusing in on only Alex, while Malfoy and Pansy sniggered in their seats, and the young wizard grit his teeth, "I don't know Sir"

"Hmph… well clearly fame isn't everything is it, Mister Potter?"

Snape's face contorted into a sneer, "Let me guess, you thought you wouldn't open a book before coming here, no doubt expecting to waltz through on your name alone and a complete lack of effort or work. Just like your father, no doubt. Strutting about the place-"

In a brief fit of rage, Alex jumped to his feet, anger written across every inch of his face, snarling at his professor, "My father didn't strut!"

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek"

"What?" Weasley jumped to his feet, intending to come to the help of his friend, "You can't do that!"

"Another ten points", he turned his full glare onto them, and watched as they wilted slightly, "now sit down"

Without another word, the two boys dropped back into their seats, with Potter still glaring and Weasley looking upset. Only once he was satisfied that there would be no further outbursts did he allow his attention to wander over to the second of the Potter Twins, only to find the other brother looking bored at the scene in front of him.

"Well, well", smirking once more, Professor Snape moved his class's attention to the boy at the back of the lab, "it appears class, that what we have here is the opportunity to study what is referred to as the theory of 'Nature versus Nurture'. Has our young Hadrian's different upbringing made him any better than the already-proven dunderhead, or were they both simply born that way?"

He paused for a few moments, as several of his students fell into snickers, "Slytherin Mister Potter, tell me, what I get if I added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?"

"The Draught of Living Death Sir"

He felt his eyes widen ever-so slightly, there was no hesitation when the boy spoke. He was calm, clear and precise, with little in the way of emotion colouring his voice.

Not bad…

For a Potter anyway.

"Okay, tell me then, where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

"Your Potions stores Professor-"

"Don't be cheeky Potter"

"-but failing that, you could find one inside the stomach of a goat Sir"

"And what is a bezoar Potter?"

"A small stone which, when swallowed, can save you from most poisons"

Hmm… two for two Mr Potter, so let's try something a little more… advanced.

"Tell me Potter, what is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

"There is no difference Sir. It's the same plant, and can also be called Aconite"

"Wel-"

"It's also best harvested at night, and under a full moon, when it's at its most potent"

He felt his eyes narrow at the boy, and sent out the most subtle of his probes, for his weakest glance, and felt a brief nudge, before he glimpsed an image of the boy studying the year's text books one by one in a small bedroom, before the image vanished abruptly.

"Hmm... Mister Potter, take twenty points to Slytherin for actually being more than prepared for class"

And with that, he turned his back on them, ignoring the glances people were sending to the back of the room, as he conjured up the day's instructions onto his blackboard.

Let's see what you're all made of.

An hour and a half later, he was about ready to start cursing half of his class.

The Longbottom Heir was apparently just as useless at Potions as he was in Charms if Filius was being as polite as he usually was, and underselling their general stupidity of his class members.

He's always been too nice.

His own students were all stood up, with their stools tucked away under the desks, and their bags stored at the sides, where they could any get extra ingredients from if they needed them.

He felt proud to see that every single member of his house had not only procured the necessary equipment, but had also had the foresight to bring spares and extras, especially since he knew some people - he flicked his eyes towards the Crabbe and Goyle Heirs, shuddering at the sight of them working on their potions together - were going to need them.

Making his way through the rows of work tables, he finished his inspection of the Slytherin tables, coming to stand at the front, after accidentally missing out the back row, and peering into Draco's cauldron.

He was happy to find that the boy's cure for boils was the exact shade of grey it should have been, as Draco bit his tongue between his front teeth as he focused, barely paying any attention to Miss Parkinson, as she chatted back and forth while the potion simmered.

His focus was immediately drawn by a sharp hiss, before he could get the class to look at the perfect way he had added his horned slugs to be stewed, and his gaze sought out the target immediately.

Longbottom.

He snarled at the boy, enjoying the way he jumped back in fear, even as the melted mess drenched him, covering him in bright red, angry boils, "Idiot boy!" he vanished the mess with a silent "evanesco", and a wave of his wand, "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the mixture off the boil?"

Feeling no measure of sympathy for the Gryffindor idiot who had nearly harmed the rest of his class, he barked at Finnigan to get the fool up to the Hospital Wing, ignoring his wails and moans, before he looked at the boy's partner.

Potter!

"Potter!"

Gryffindor Potter, he amended silently.

"What?!"

"Don't take that ungracious tone with me brat!" He continued his snarl, as he rounded on the brat, "Why didn't you assist your neighbour? Let me guess, you thought you'd look even better if you passed while he failed? Five points from Gryffindor. And another five for your cheek"

Alex had to be held back from responding by the Weasley boy, and Snape felt his face morph into a smirk, as he watched the red headed boy visibly fighting to hold back the Potter brat, who grew more infuriated by the second.

Ten minutes later, after he had finished getting a marked copy of everyone's potion, did he dismiss his class, after also giving them the task of reading ahead for their next lesson.

Only when the rest of the day had passed, did he retire to his office and personal lab to review the day's work, letting his memories gloss over their style of work, did he remember Slytherin Potter's reaction to his calling out of his twin brother, and the slightest hint of amusement he'd worn, as he had verbally torn down his ego.

I wonder what the full story is there…

I think I'll have to keep my eye on you, Harry Potter.

He waited until later that day.

Only when it was nearing midnight, and when it was long past the time everyone else had fallen asleep, did the boy finally climb his way out of bed, picking up only his wand, as he made his way to the common room, crossing the space to stand directly in front of the low-burning fireplace, and the large picture that hung above it.

Feeling slightly stupid, he summoned up the reserves of his own courage, to look it square in the eye, locking his gaze with one of molten gold, as he shivered slightly in the night's cold air.

"Hello"

The portrait blinked once.

Twice.

"Hello"

The boy smiled.

Chapter Text

" Do not fight when you can run"

-Ancient Chinese Proverb

Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Power

Part Ten

Harry Potter & the Whispers of Desire

Chapter Ten: Fight and Flight

ATTENTION ALL FIRST YEAR STUDENTS

All Hogwarts First Year students will have a single 'Introduction to Flying' lesson, which is happening this coming Thursday, taking place immediately after your Transfiguration lesson.

The lesson, which will be taken by the Hogwarts Flying Instructor, Madam Hooch, will last for approximately one hour and will be taking place down on the school's quidditch pitch.

Your attendance is mandatory.

For this lesson, you have been paired up with students from Gryffindor House, and as such I expect a full turnout, no absences or late-joiners - no exceptions - and I remind you, that you are to handle yourselves in a manner deemed acceptable by Madam Hooch.

You are expected NOT to create an issue, nor are you to be caught in a scenario, in which I will be required to intervene or make my displeasure known.

Additional lessons will then be undertaken every week at the same time, should you elect to take them - these are not mandatory. I do, however, advise that all hopeful and wanting future quidditch players attend these classes every week - both House Captain Marcus Flint and I will be using them to help gage your potential future performance(s).

Do not allow yourselves to disappoint me.

- Professor S. Snape
Hogwarts Potion Master
Head of Slytherin House

As their second week of learning at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had progressed, looking up at the noticeboard hadn't become any easier for Harry after that particular piece of information had stuck up earlier that same week by one of the Seventh Year prefects.

Since it had been posted, he had then since been forced to listen to every other male member of his year (and Millicent), argue over what they thought all the best broomstick on the market was; (it was apparently a Nimbus 2000 - whatever that was). That had then evolved into discussion about all of their best childhood adventures in the air, (quite frankly, none of which he was sure he believed), as well as hearing all of them arguing over their favourite quidditch teams and players, all of which he'd never heard of, and about the best matches they'd each been to see.

He'd taken a quick trip to the library during their lunchtime on Monday, using it to continue his self-imposed task of avoiding Alexander, (a task the rest of Slytherin House was enjoying (and being extremely amused by) assisting him in), so that he could look up just exactly what quidditch was.

He'd had the subject briefly explained to him once, by Blaise on the train ride in to Hogwarts, but even after an extensive review of the sport, he still found that he was surprised, to be surprised, that wizards and witches even had sports, because why wouldn't they?

Even if they involved broomsticks.

That just made it seem cooler in his opinion.

It's sort of like a mix between football and basketball, but played in the air.

He was glad to see that even some of the other girls had eventually gotten involved with the quidditch talk, making it a (sort-of) bonding activity for all of them, in fact, it was only Pansy that had stuck her nose in the air, calling quidditch too 'brutish' for her 'delicate tastes', before she had walked away, leaving the rest of them sat at their table, barely even noticing her absence.

It had also since been made extremely obvious to him that Tracey was something of a fanatic for a team called 'The Tutshill Tornadoes', (whoever they were), and after she had told him that, aloud in their common room where the others could hear her, she had then immediately clashed with Millicent and her much beloved 'Puddlemere United', (again, Harry found himself wondering, 'who?').

He didn't quite get the point of the sport, (was there some kind of League or Cup he didn't know about?), or why it seemed so thrilling. When they'd began discussing the sport instead of their broomsticks, he felt he wouldn't be able to understand it all until he actually had the chance to take in a game, though even Crabbe and Goyle were quick to assure him he would be able to soon, given that there were four school teams and Gryffindor versus Slytherin was always the first game of the new season.

He was still somewhat excited by the thought of a new aspect of being a wizard, even if it did sound like the multitude of sports he'd been forced to play as a child; but he thought he was smart enough to stay quiet about that particular fact - he was confident the rest of his housemates wouldn't appreciate their apparently universally beloved sport being compared to a 'filthy muggle game', and in truth, Harry found he was loathe to disagree.

Even Blaise - the one person he knew that completely abhorred anything and everything that could even possibly result in the 'besmirching of his immaculate appearance', had a few of his own stories to share about flying, and a love of the game he felt the need to spread to Harry at every available opportunity.

Daphne Greengrass, who was one of the quieter girls in their entire year, had even given him a drawn-out, well-reasoned and strongly impassioned twenty minute speech on just exactly who the 'Holyhead Harpies' were, what their list of rather impressive accomplishments as a team was, and why being the only all-female team in the world made them the best team by far.

In fact, the only other first year he had found to be even slightly as nervous for the upcoming lesson as he was, which didn't say much, as the rest of the school seemed to avoid all Slytherins on general principle, was Morag; as a result, the two of them had spent what was left of their Monday afternoon, after their lessons had finished for the day, holed up in the library, seeing if the books had anything to offer on flying theory and general tips.

After a small smile and a short, but nonetheless polite conversation with Madam Pince, the school's librarian, she was happy to show them both to a small stand near the very back of the library, which held a small, pain black, leather-bound book, as well as plain quill and small black inkpot.

They had then both watched on, somewhat transfixed, as she wrote 'flying' on the book's first page, before the ink melted into the paper, disappearing completely, before being replaced by inky washes of black, which then moulded themselves into words.

Now, taking a moment to quickly read through the words, Harry and Morag were amazed to see that there was a list of titles and author's names, as well as location information for books that had flying as the main subject of the work.

Whipping out her wand from her pocket, she brandished it at the book's page of names, and then with a sharp jabbing motion, incanted "Geminio", and the two of them watched as a second page seemingly materialised itself out of thin air, before gently dropping itself through the air, until it was low enough that Morag could catch it.

It was now certain; Harry loved magic.

A quick check with Madam Pince was all that was needed to be certain that what they had was actually an exact copy of the page they had just seen. Offering the kind librarian another smile, Morag muttered a muted, "Thanks", squeaking slightly and receiving a small smile in return; one which served to seemingly de-age the elderly woman's appearance by a decade, before she bade them a quiet, "goodbye", and then left them to search through her beloved shelves for their books.

They spent the next three hours before dinner going through the list that they had been provided with, flicking over the smaller books and thumbing their way through thicker tomes, attempting to find anything they said about flying and what they had on flying tips, only to find that the only real thing the books said at all, was that flying had to be 'practiced' and not 'studied'.

And a fat lot of good that is for us.

Feeling slightly disheartened, but bolstered by the fact that they were at least going to be able to suffer together, the two of them had returned the books to their proper places, under the hawk-like eyes, and protective stare of Madam Pince, before they went down to dinner together, joining their housemates at their table, just in time for the Roast Lamb chops to be served.

For flying, it seemed, they would have to be patient.

Luckily, growing up with the Dursleys had given Harry plenty of practice.

Tuesday and Wednesday passed with no major incidents.

Or even minor ones for that matter.

On Thursday morning, Harry awoke in his room, earlier than everyone else in his year did, which was now becoming their House's standard practice, and went about his morning routine of his ablutions and dressing himself. He finished when he tied the Windsor knot around his neck, settling his tie under his jumper, before he slid his wand holster onto his right wrist, pulling it tight, and slipping his wand off of its stand and into place.

Picking up his copy of Hogwarts: A History, he settled into what had become known to the other First Years as 'Potter's Chair'. It was the second armchair from the fire, where he was now found nearly every morning, sat comfortably in his seat, where he wasn't so close to the fire as to start sweating, nor was he far away enough that the early morning light was too dim to read his book.

For Harry, it was the perfect spot.

He waited for Blaise to drag himself out of bed, while he read through some more of whatever book he chose on that day. Thursday's was 'Hogwarts: A History', which had him feeling slightly antsy as he moved, one page at a time, closer to reading about the Inter-House Duelling Tournament, and had just finished up 'Chapter Seven: The Unknown', when Blaise appeared at his side, looking as composed as he ever did, with his light brown hair swept perfectly off to the side.

Marking his page, he returned the book to his bookshelf, and grabbed his cloak from his wardrobe, before he accompanied Blaise up to the Great Hall, and into breakfast.

Their first lesson for the day was Charms, where they were supposed to be studying the theory of the 'Lumos' spell, but as Harry had already managed to successfully cast and maintain the spell, without it flickering out, after their last class on it, and seeing as he had also completed the theory work on their other spell - the levitation charm, Professor Flitwick had set him a challenge that he was to work on while everyone else took notes.

He'd given a few of his notes on the basic fire charm, and then set him the challenge of seeing if he could manage to understand the spell in his own time - but he was only to try and attempt to cast it under his direct supervision.

Nearing the end of the lesson, when he was feeling confident in his understanding of the spell to try casting it, he worked with Morag, helping her with her own theory work, until she was happy with the spell, and before the bell sounded throughout the halls, and they were dismissed, she had earned Slytherin five points for successfully managing to levitate her feather.

And while the rest of their class dispersed, Blaise and Harry stayed behind, waiting for the rest of them to leave, so that Harry could have a go a casting 'Incendio'.

When Pansy rushed out after Draco and his two goons, Professor Flitwick vanished all of the feathers that were sitting on the desks, and conjured up a small stack of paper for Harry to aim at, offering him an encouraging smile.

"Whenever you're ready Mister Potter, you may begin"

Nodding his understanding, he drew in a deep breath, as Blaise took a step off to the side, towards where Professor Flitwick was, and out of the way.

He already knew that the wand motion was a snapping motion in the direction he wanted the flames to go, and the incantation was 'Incendio', but he couldn't help but feel slightly nervous. This was the first time any of his teachers had asked him to do anything like this.

"I'm ready"

He spoke the words with a confidence he wasn't completely sure he felt, but he didn't doubt his ability to cast the spell.

Why would I?

You would not, for you are not weak…

He felt his resolve harden, as he slipped his left hand into his sleeve, drawing his wand from its place in his holster, and discretely slipping it into his right hand, in the way he'd become accustomed to drawing it, holding all twelve inches of yew wood in front of him.

Wasting no more time, he raised his hand into the air, snapping it down and towards the pile of paper that was now on his desk.

"Incendio!"

The result of his muted half-yell, combined with his intense concentration resulted in a jet of fire pouring from his wand, the force knocked his spell to the side slightly, setting fire to the corner of one of the room's sets of blinds, before he moved his aim back onto the paper, reducing it to a pile of cinders in seconds, even as the minute Charms professor fixed the damage.

"Oh ho!"

His concentration was interrupted by Professor Flitwick's exclamation and a brief splattering of applause, and a he turned his head to find the beaming face of his Charms teacher and a gobsmacked Blaise.

"Very well done Mister Potter! Take ten extremely well-deserved points for Slytherin! Extermely hot too…"

He couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh, "Thank you Sir", even as the tiny professor looked slightly upset, and spoke to him with a tone that was half-amused, half-disappointed.

"Ah, alas, if only you'd been sorted into Ravenclaw with talent like that"

He chuckled again, but decided not to let him know that he'd been slightly considered for the house of blue and bronze, instead, he bid his professor a simple goodbye, pleased with the way his spell had turned out, and received a promise that there would have something new for him for their next lesson, while everyone else would be finishing up their levitation charms.

Blaise fell into step with him as they made their way down to the Entrance Hall, where they could go to Herbology, finally knocked out of his stupor, as they descended the staircase, but still feeling surprised.

"For some reason Harry", the young wizards turned to face each other as they walked, "what you seem to be capable of scares me"

"What?" He turned his head more towards his best friend, taking his eyes off of the stairs for a moment, "Why?"

"Because", Blaise broke off eye contact as they reached the ground floor, "you probably have the least amount of knowledge about the wizarding world out of all the new First Years, yet you seem to be more capable than the rest of us at this stuff, and one day, I think the rest of us are going to hit a limit of the spells we can cast, and I'm not sure that you will"

Unsure of what to say in response, (what could he say to that?), both young wizards walked into the grounds in an amenable silence, and made their way into Greenhouse One, where they were just in time for Professor Sprout's rollcall, Blaise moved to stand with Theo and Tracey, and Harry joined Morag and Millicent at their workstation.

They were dismissed from Herbology slightly early, which gave them some extra time to get cleaned up before lunch, during which, they were then told by Marcus Flint, a surly looking sixth year, and the captain of the Slytherin quidditch team, to keep it light, or they'd be seeing it again in their flying lesson.

Rather wisely, in Harry's opinion, they all decided to have the mushroom soup and bread rolls.

After lunch, they had their Transfiguration class with the Gryffindors, where Harry, Draco and Daphne, (and Granger), both earned five points apiece for being able to transfigure their lumps of metal into thimbles, and Alexander and Weasley, once again, tried to corner him, for another attempt at a 'family chat'.

He used Crabbe and Goyle as a moving wall, slipping behind them, and away to their Defence Class with Hufflepuff; leaving his confused twin behind as he tried to find him.

They had a lecture on the benefits and drawbacks of using different shield charms in a duel, and were treated to a tale of Professor Quirrell's duel against a Mongolian War Lord, which had earned him a not-too small plot of land in one of the regions of Eastern Mongolia, and the eternal thanks of everyone who lived there.

All in all, Harry thought he'd had quite a great day, and felt less nervous about their flying lesson than he had that morning, which also seemed to lighten up Morag as well, as they chatted about her levitation charm while making their way down to the quidditch pitch, led by Flint.

He walked them through the main entrance to the grounds, pointing out the different team's changing rooms as they went, and onto the main pitch.

There was a pile of twenty broomsticks left near the entrance, which Flint immediately began sifting through, calling them up one at a time, he handed them the better broomsticks from the pile, looking through them for the ones with the least amount of broken twigs, and the straightest bodies.

When he was happy that they all had equipment that was good enough for them to learn with, he moved them into a single file line, and showed them the way Madam Hooch would expect them to grip it, visibly taking some pleasure out of correcting Draco's grip, until he could see the red and gold of Gryffindor making their way down the grounds, when he left them on the pitch without sparing them a goodbye.

Draco had been put on one end of the line, nearest to where they were told Madam Hooch would be teaching them from, with Harry on the other side. For once, ignoring his twin, Alex made a beeline for the space opposite Malfoy, dragging Weasley into the space next to him, and sending the Malfoy Heir a dulled glare, which earned him a sneer in response.

Harry ended up with Longbottom opposite him, who sent him a small smile, looking terrified all the while, but he relaxed visibly, when he received a small nod in response.

From his place at the far end of the line, he could hear Alexander and Draco exchanging insults over each other's families, which he paid no attention to, but he was interested in just how easy it seemed to be for both of them to rile each other up.

He vaguely wondered if he would look as ridiculous as Alexander did, if he could get his own face to go the particular shade of red that his twin was now sporting.

Probably… best not risk it though.

Probably a wise decision.

When the argument began involving why Draco's parents were the, "scum of society"; a phrase Harry was sure that was being repeated from 'someone' else, and that he was welcome to join the rest of the 'slimy snakes' in getting 'matching Dark Marks' that his attention was pulled away from the broom at his feet.

He felt his eyebrows raise involuntarily, even as Daphne, Millicent and a few of the Gryffindors shot him looks of apprehension. It didn't take long for Alex to figure out what he had said, and who he had said it in front of, as he quickly turned to him, his face fully apologetic.

Thankfully, anything else that might've been said was stopped in its tracks by the arrival of Madam Hooch, her dark blue robes billowing behind her as she strode across the pitch towards them, with a silver whistle around her neck, and a broom already in her hand.

"Alright, alright, I'm here", the closer she got, the more Harry could make out her hawk-like eyes and windswept grey hair, "all of you now, stand next to a broom. Come on now, get on with it"

She was apparently going to be a no-nonsense, and slightly impatient, teacher, as she began tapping her foot while the lions sorted themselves into a reasonably straight line opposite their emerald counterparts.

When everyone was finally ready to get started, she blew her whistle three times, causing those closest to her to wince at the shrillness of the noise.

"Now", she ran her eyes over all of them, "I want all of you to place your right hand over the broom, and say 'up'"

"UP!"

At his strong command, Alexander's broom shot straight up and into his hand, before he took the time to send Draco a smug look.

"UP!"

Draco's broom leapt up to match it, before he sent the brown haired Gryffindor a smirk of his own, while everyone else in the two houses looked on at them in surprise, having gotten their brooms up on their first try.

"Up"

Not allowing himself to be outdone by the other two, Harry gave off a satisfied smirk of his own, as he found his broom was also now in his hand after he spoke to it, and felt it become a grin, as the Twin-Who-Lived's smirk disappeared, his house having been outdone by theirs at two-to-one.

And from his place in the spot beside his best friend, Blaise rolled his eyes.

Madam Hooch was not unlike Professor Snape in her ways and teaching methodology. She walked amongst them, letting them each do their own work, as she stood over them, staring intently, and correcting them only when absolutely necessary.

All of the Slytherin students were commended on their grip technique, with a small smile on her face, as though she were aware of Flint's short and impromptu lesson before she had arrived, as she demonstrated the correct way to mount a broom without falling off, before she set about correcting the Gryffindors on their own grips, and Harry was delighted to hear that Alex had been doing it wrong all his life.

"Now on my whistle, I want you to kick off from the ground hard, hover for a few seconds, and then lean forwards slightly, reach back over, and touch the ground. On my whistle now, three - two - one"

They each took a turn doing it, with Draco being the first to try. His form was excellent, as Madam Hooch told him so, and he took a moment to look smug before it was Alexander's turn. She went from side-to-side as she went down the line, gradually correcting each person and commenting on their technique. Harry, the last member of Slytherin House to go, was told that while his technique was solid, he looked too uncomfortable on a broom for her tastes.

It was an assessment he agreed with - if he was meant to fly, he'd grow wings - flying, or simply not being on solid ground in general, made him feel more out of his element than he was happy with.

Longbottom though, the last one to go, and the great lump of nerves that he apparently was, kicked off from the ground far harder than they were told to, and shot straight up into the air like a rocket, ignoring Madam Hooch's cries for him to stop, as he spiralled upwards, losing all control of the broom, and Harry couldn't supress his wince when the boy crashed into one of the walls of the castle, falling down, only to bounce slightly when his cloak snagged on one of the wall sconces, before it tore, and he dropped the rest of the way, a mass of black and grey hitting the ground with a sickening 'thud'.

They all moved towards him, some of them to check on him, and some of them simply out of curiosity more than concern for his welfare, and Harry noticed the grass twinkle beside him, even as the broomstick continued to float away on its own, making its way towards the Forbidden Forest.

With a threat of expulsion aimed to keep them all on the ground and off of their broomsticks, Madam Hooch whipped her wand out, and cast a charm, allowing her to levitate the semi-conscious boy behind her, as she moved him off towards the Hospital Wing.

Draco, as subtle as he ever was, decided that he just had to comment.

"Did you see his face? The great lump"

His comment had meant to mock and garner a few laughs, but only Crabbe and Goyle guffawed, while Pansy shrieked. The other Slytherins, he noticed, and even a few of the Gryffindors were grimacing, and Morag, who had moved closer to him when Madam Hooch had left them, was now nearly as pale as Neville was when he had been floated away.

Without moving enough to draw attention to himself, he slipped his left hand into hers, squeezing her fingers, which caused her to jump slightly, before she squeezed back lightly, dropping his hand, and he was glad to see at least some of the colour return to her cheeks, as he murmured to her.

"You alright?"

Instead of answering, she gave a noise that was probably supposed to be a word, but came out as a squeak, before nodding more vigorously, and then moving to stand closer to Millicent, her best friend, and away from the brooms, to a place where she could feel safer.

"Shut it Malfoy!"

Parvati's voice cut across to where Draco was now attempting to impress his solid trio of followers, by adding a few more insults onto his original one, and drew the attention of everyone else.

"Aww Patil", Pansy's voice was far too shrill for everyone else's liking, "didn't know you liked big, stupid, fat-"

"Ooh look, there's that useless thing Longbottom's gran sent him", Draco interrupted his female follower to snatch up a tiny, glittering gold ball from the grass nearby.

"Give it here Malfoy"

The leader of the lions pack stepped up to the Malfoy Heir, until they were stood almost nose to nose, with Alex's face set into a glare, while Malfoy's seemingly ever-present sneer was once again in place, before the blonde boy took a step backwards.

"You know, I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find", quickly he mounted his broom and casually kicked off, coming to float above their heads, "like maybe up a tree", he tossed the ball from hand to hand, and Harry was impressed with his control in the air, he certainly didn't feel that at home when he was on a broomstick - not that he'd ever admit to it, "come and get it then Potter, unless you're scared"

Well… that's certainly bold…

No… it's idiotic.

Let's not insult ourselves by pretending otherwise.

Spurred on by the challenge, Alex's face hardened as he immediately swung his leg over his broomstick, completely ignoring Granger's attempt to warn him off, before he shot straight up into the air

Stood together in a small huddle of their own, Blaise, Morag, Tracey, Daphne and Millicent all shot their own Potter a questioning look, as he huffed out a chuckle as his twin brother and Draco began to exchange words they couldn't hear, in the air.

"What?"

Harry looked at the small group of his own housemates that was now staring at him, flicking their eye between him and the duo in the air.

"Aren't you going to do something?"

"Like what?"

"Help… one of them?"

Millicent's voice trailed off, as she became more unsure of if she was answering his question, or asking one of her own, and he held back a small smile, as he moved his head to stare straight up at the two figures that were the two supposed rivals.

"Hmm… you know, I think I'm fine here thanks"

A few eyes widened in slight surprise, but their attention was taken completely away from him by Alex flying straight at Draco like a dart, before Draco, after releasing another taunt, threw the small golden ball with all his might, and Alex went racing across the pitch after it, flying flat out before diving to the floor, even as Draco quickly lowered himself back to the ground, smirking in the direction of the entrance.

Where Professor McGonagall was making a beeline for where Alex was heading.

"Finite Incantatem"

The others gathered around him all went wide-eyed once more, as he used the general counter-curse, and they whipped their heads around, just in time to catch a glimpse of the small golden ball before it faded from existence, the Gryffindor's hand closing over nothing, as Harry slipped his wand back into place in its holster.

"You didn't…"

He turned to face Tracey, who had asked the pseudo-question, and was apparently caught somewhere between shock and awe, and he sent her his best smile, "I think we all know I did"

"How?"

He looked her in the eyes, as he casually pulled the real remembrall from his left cloak pocket, earning him a few small chuckles that were quickly smothered, but began again when one of the Gryffindors pointed it out, as he rolled the small golden orb about in his palm, sharing a glance with Morag, whose eyebrows pulled together slightly, as he whispered the incantation for the third year charm that had been his goal to master over the last few days, devoting every inch of time he had to it, under the careful instruction of Lucan, "Geminio"

She giggled lightly, attempting to cover it with her hand, while the lions were too busy trying to shift the blame Alex had been given onto Draco, and the others looked on, feeling slightly lost in the conversation, and Harry just chuckled.

Sometimes, he just liked to leave them feeling confused.

It was at Thursday's dinner when he next had to see his brother, and a part of him was disappointed, completely unsurprised, but nonetheless disappointed that Madam Hooch hadn't followed up on her threat of expulsion and sent Alexander back to his parents on the train.

He crossed the Great Hall from the doorway, walking past the Hufflepuff table, down to where his brother was sat, and ignoring the table of yellow and black, he noticed how several of the scarlet-clad students sent him various looks, ranging from slight curiosity to outright disgust and distrust, before he reached his brother's spot, who puffed out his chest slightly as he got closer, in a vain attempt to look more impressive.

He stepped just past him, holding back the smirk at the frown Alexander now wore, as he was ignored, while Harry tapped the prefect he was looking for on the back twice, causing Percy Weasley to turn around, diverting his attention away from the book he was reading, and causing him to face him.

"Can I help you?"

"I hope so", he pulled the remembrall from where he had been keeping it in his robes, and offered it to him, clenching his jaw tightly, so he wouldn't laugh at the look of outrage plastered on the face of his brother and the glare on the face of Weasley junior, "one of your First Years, a Mister Longbottom I believe, dropped this during our flying lesson earlier. Could you please see that he gets it back?"

His eyebrows scrunched together as he plucked the orb from his palm, and placed it inside of his own robes, "Of course I will, that's quite the noble gesture to make Mister err… I'm sorry, but I don't believe we've been introduced", he offered his hand, "Weasley, Percival Weasley, but most people call me Percy"

He took the larger hand in one of his own, and Harry shook it firmly, "Hadrian Potter, but please, call me Harry"

"Very well then Harry", the two of them released hands, and Percy gave him an approving onceover, "I shall ensure that Mister Longbottom receives his remembrall at the first opportunity I get, later this very evening"

"Thank you Percy"

"Not at all Harry"

The two of them nodded briefly, before Percy returned to his book, patting down his robes to check that the small golden orb was safe, before he picked his transfiguration book back up, allowing it to consume his attention once more. Harry spared enough time to send his brother and the small redhead a small wave, complete with smug smile, which was enough to rile them up without alerting the older prefect sat alongside them.

He gave a short spin on his heel, causing the edges of his cloak to flare out in a way he thought was cool, before he began making his way back to the top of the table, not noticing as the two other boys got up to follow behind him, content on his way back to his own table, as they drew behind him as they reached the top of the hall.

"Hey Potter!"

Draco's voice startled him, with a small shout from right in front of him as the blonde boy entered the hall, flanked by his usual two goons, with his eyes firmly looking over Harry's shoulder, and he span around to check, feeling startled, and annoyed, that Alexander had managed to get that close to him without him noticing.

Draco made the few steps to where Harry was, stopping to stand beside him, with an amused sneer aimed at Alex, while Ron was stood slightly behind him, looking for direction from the other boy.

"I thought you'd be on the train home by now, what's this? One last meal before you go, Potter?"

"You're a lot braver now that you've got your little friends behind you, aren't you Malfoy?"

Alex was aware that 'little' was not a word a normal person would use to describe Crabbe and Goyle junior, but the High Table was full of teachers eating their evening meal, including Professor Dumbledore, and the prefects were spread around the hall, so all they could do was try and look big while scowling at them.

"I could take you on my own anytime, anywhere, Potter"

"Oh yeah", Alex's lips moved into a confident smirk at Draco's challenge, his eyes narrowing, "how about tonight then, a duel at midnight?"

Draco's eyes narrowed in retaliation, his mind going over the challenge in complete detail, before he swallowed once, "Alright then, how about in the Trophy Room? Who's your second?"

"Ron, obviously", behind him, the redhead nodded, as he stepped closer to his friend, "who's yours?"

Draco span around slightly, turning to face his two followers, and ran his eyes over them both, trying to size them up against each other.

"Cr-"

"I am"

The sound of his own voice shocked him slightly, even as Draco's eyes widened slightly as he spoke, even as they shared a small nod, before standing, shoulder to shoulder, to face who were apparently going to be their duelling opponents for that night.

Weasley's glare flicked between the two of them, but mostly stayed with Draco, who continued to ignore the redheaded boy, while Alex looked torn between wanting to duel against Malfoy, and wanting to avoid fighting with his brother.

Ron made the decision for him, looping their arms together, before he pulled the other Potter twin out of the Great Hall, and towards the staircase, no doubt back on the way back to their house, with Alex pausing only to offer them a smug smile, "We'll see you tonight then"

And then they were gone.

Letting Crabbe and Goyle fall behind them, the two Slytherin First Years made their way towards their own housemates, and sat across from each other at the dinner table, where they couldn't ignore the others staring at them.

"So", Harry's voice broke the ice, and their eyes locked, as Draco set down pumpkin juice he'd been pouring himself, "would you mind telling me what I just agreed to?"

Draco's face betrayed his surprise for a second, and then he rolled his eyes.

Alex had spent the rest of their evening passing on some of the duelling tips his father had told him, onto Ron, little pearls of wisdom, such as 'always dodge where you can', and 'if you don't know how to shield, then don't', and it was at half past eleven that both boys slid out of their beds, pulling their dressing gowns on over their pyjamas, before they made their way down to the common room.

They were halfway to the portrait hole, when a lamp flicked on, and sitting there, with a scowl on her face, and wearing a pink dressing gown of her own, was Hermione Granger.

"What are you doing?" Ron's voice was confused for a moment, before it turned harsh, "Go back to bed"

"No. I heard what you said in the Great Hall, and you're going to get yourselves caught, and we'll lose all those house points Professor McGonagall gave me earlier for knowing about switching spells"

Both boys were certain they'd never before met someone so interfering, and that was saying something - they'd both grown up with their mothers - neither of which understood the idea of personal boundaries.

"Come on Ron, let's just go"

The two of them walked straight past her, around the armchair she'd been sitting in, and pushed open the portrait hole, ignoring the Fat Lady's disgruntled mutterings, as they stepped out onto the seventh floor.

"Don't either of you care about Gryffindor? I don't want Slytherin to win the House Cup for the eight year in a row, but if you two get caught-"

"Go away"

If it was possible, Hermione's glare intensified, but Ron didn't bother looking at her, as she span around, and attempted to go to bed, only to realise the flaw in her plan.

The Fat Lady was gone.

She huffed to herself, before turning around again, and following the boys.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm coming with you"

"No you're not"

"Yes", Alex thought she sounded far too smug than she should have, given that she was now locked out of the common room, "I am"

"Ron, just-"

Alex was cut off, mid-sentence, as he fell over a lump on the carpet.

"Neville?"

He heard Hermione's question, even as he struggled to sit up from where he had landed on the floor, to find their (now) awake housemate lying on the floor, apparently having been released from his place in the Hospital Wing.

"Neville, don't take this the wrong way", Alex did his best to sound concerned, and thought he was managing it well, "but what are you doing out here?"

"I couldn't remember the password", the shy boy admitted, "so I thought if I waited here-"

"-someone would open to portrait hole for you", Alex finished for him, as the other boy nodded, and Alex noticed for the first time that he was still dressed in the same robes that he had worn for their flying lesson earlier.

"Alright Neville, the password's 'Pig Snout', but you'll have to wait for a while, the Fat Lady's gone for a walk, and speaking of going for a walk…"

"But-"

"Shh", Ron shushed him, glaring heavily, and Neville immediately stopped his wailing, looking terrified at the idea that he may have been overheard.

"Don't leave me behind!"

Neville whisper-yelled, while Hermione nodded in agreement with him, Ron shook his head furiously, and after a moment's deliberation Alex walked off, pulling Ron with him, and if the other two were going to follow them, then that was their choice.

He wasn't responsible for them.

At exactly quarter-past eleven, Harry and Draco rose from their seats in front of the main common room fireplace. Harry closed the copy of curses and counter-curses he was reading, as Draco dropped the exploding snap cards he had a hold of.

Around them, the other First Years dropped their cards as well, looking on as both of them pulled on their cloaks. Harry let his wand slide into his hand while everyone was distracted by the whirling material of the dragonhide, before Draco withdrew his own from his cloak pocket.

Harry recognised the material as Hawthorne, but knew nothing else about the makeup of the wand, even as he ran his eyes over the length of his own twelve inches of Yew. No blemishes of any sort, and he was happy to see that his stand was keeping it polished and protected, without the need for him to spend any time with a polishing rag, like he had seen Theo doing at the weekend.

The two of them said their goodbyes, before stepping out into the Dungeons, letting the wall seal behind them, and blocking out their housemates from view.

"So", he began conversationally, as they made their way towards the Entrance Hall, "do you remember the plan?"

"Of course", his blonde companion couldn't have sounded any more arrogant if he tried, "Potter - the other Potter - and I are going to duel"

"And if you can't cast any of the spells you haven't actually been taught yet?"

"You're going to set their robes on fire while we run"

"Well then", he turned to face his partner with a small grin, even as they took a moment to check that the Entrance Hall was empty, "let's not be late"

Draco offered him an amused smile of his own, as he made a sweeping gesture down the corridor, "By all means then, after you"

"STUDENTS! STUDENTS OUT OF BED! THEY'RE IN THE TROPHY ROOM!"

From the edge of the corridor, near the entrance to the Trophy Room, both boys seized up as Peeves' voice carried through the silence of the school.

They both felt their heartbeats hammering in their ears, before they heard the thudding of boots against the rug-covered stone floor.

Searching out for a target, he found a broom cupboard just ahead of them, and wasted no time in dragging Draco there. He wrenched open the door, shoving the other boy in, before he jumped in after him, and let his wand slide into his waiting palm, ignoring Draco's grumbling as the footsteps grew louder.

"Potter!" He whispered furiously, "We're going to get caught!"

"Colloportus"

He waved his wand in the box motion the spell required, and his incantation was rewarded with a small squelching noise, which meant that while he hadn't cast it perfectly, he needed to practice more before he got there, he had managed to magically seal the door.

"What was that?"

"Locking spell", even in the pitch black darkness, he could feel Draco's silent question, and added, "Standard Book of Spells, Grade One", before feeling slightly smug and added, "page eighty four I think"

Behind him, Draco made a noise that could've been either a grunt or a snort.

The footsteps got even closer, and Harry slid up to the edge of the door, where he could see out of the gap between the door and the frame, and watched as Mr Filch came down the corridor. He stopped in front of the broom cupboard they were hiding in, and he clamped his hand onto Draco's mouth, and held his breath, as the grumpy caretaker made his way to the door.

He pulled on the handle twice, before grumbling to himself, yanking once more, and then, still grumbling, he rushed off, looking to catch the students Peeves had been yelling about, which Harry was almost certain were Alexander and Weasley.

"Alohamora"

A quiet click signified the opening of the door, and both boys wasted no time in diving out. They remained there just long enough for Harry to seal the door behind them, not wanting Filch to realise he'd been duped, before they bolted, rushing back towards the stairs.

They moved as quickly and as quietly as they could, only pausing at the bottom of the First Floor staircase to check the Entrance Hall was clear, before giving one final dash into the Dungeons, the only place in the castle where Slytherins were known to be safe.

The two of them stopped rubbing at that point, using the walk back to the common room to catch their breath, appearances were, after all, everything in the house of snakes.

Catching eyes as they rounded the last corner, they found that they wore matching grins at the idea, and shared a few chuckles, even as Draco gave the wall the password, "Monkshood", and it folded away, granting them access to the Slytherin common room.

The chuckles continued as they stepped into the empty common room, where the only noise was the low crackling of the fire, and they both let out a small sigh of relief.

"Good morning gentlemen", both boys froze instantly, their breath caught in the throat, as they slowly turned inwards, rotating until they came face to face with the furious face of their Head of House, half-hidden in the shadow from the corner of the room, his beetle-black eyes threatening to eviscerate them both on the spot.

"Now what would two fine boys, such as yourselves", they both shivered lightly at his deceptively calm tone of voice, as he stepped forward to loom over them, "be doing out of the dormitories so early in the morning?"

They both swallowed.

The four of them had entered the Trophy Room expecting to find Harry - Hadrian - and Draco waiting for them, so that they could get their duel over with, so that, when he and Ron were victorious, showing the slimy snakes that Gryffindors were the best, they could go back to bed, before being praised as heroes in the morning by the rest of their house.

They would have been fine too, except that when they got there, there was no Hadrian and Draco waiting for them.

But there was Peeves.

"Ooh", his voice was filled with joy, which caused everyone's breathing to pick up, "look at the ickle Firsties, out of bed. Oh what's Peevesy to do?"

"Peeves", Alex whispered, "please-"

"Tut, tut, tut", the poltergeist cackled madly, "naughty, naughty bad ickle Firsties shouldn't-"

"Shut up Peeves", Ron barely managed to contain a yell, swiping at Peeves, which proved to be a mistake.

The renowned menace sent them a small wink, which finally allowed them to rest slightly, even as he leant his head back.

"STUDENTS! STUDENTS OUT OF BED! IN THE TROPHY ROOM!"

Panic filled their veins, causing all of them to seize up in fear, as the shouting reverberated around the room, filling the corridor, and stretching out, reaching out to the entire floor.

The four of them stood completely still, until the sound of heavy footsteps reached their ears, mixing with Peeves' cackling laughter, and regaining his senses first, Alex ran out of the trophy room, with the other three hot on his heels, ignoring the footsteps that were heading their way, he flung himself onto the staircase, even as it began to move.

The other three were quick to pile on after him, as the staircase came to a stop, and reaching the next platform, Alex wasted no time in pushing the door at the top open, almost smashing into the door as it refused to open.

"Crap", he whispered, covered with worry, before Hermione barged past him, pulling her wand out of her nightgown, as she moved it in a reverse 'S' motion, whisper-yelling, "Alohamora"

The was a loud 'click', before the door swung open, and the four of them fell inside, swinging the door shut behind them, as Alex shoved everyone behind him, pressing his ear to the door, listening out hard, for the sound of any pursuers, even as Neville whimpered from behind him.

"Guys-"

"Shush Neville"

"Alex-"

"Be quiet Nev"

"Guys-"

Whirling around on their not-silent companion, determined to silence him, all three of them felt their words die in their throat, at the sight of the dog opening its mouth to yawn, waking from its slumber. The stench of the animal's foul breathe assaulted their nostrils before they realised just what the problem was.

One dog.

Three heads.

The jaws snapped open and shut as the cerberus woke from its slumber, sniffing heavily, before three pairs of drowsy eyes slid open, scanning over them, and then snapping awake.

They screamed.

Scrambling for the door, Alex threw it open and then threw himself out, waiting for the others to follow behind him. Ron ran into him in his escape attempt, while Hermione came out as the next one, with Neville, still screaming in terror, was the last one, slamming the door shut behind him.

The four of them piled back against the door, combining their strength to pull it shut, while the dog attempted to rip it open from the other side. Neville's screams had become whimpers as he hung on with them, determined not to let the three-headed dog escape.

"Ciero!"

With a faint hiss, caused from the strain of the weight against the door, the door sealed itself shut behind them, and the barking magically quietened, dropping until they were no longer able to hear it.

The quartet of First Years slumped slightly, all of them exhaling in tandem, as their shoulders slumped in exhaustion as their adrenaline wore off, before, moving as a group, they snapped up, alert and afraid.

Who cast that spell?

Still moving as a group, the four of them looked up, and staring down at them with a solid frown, which only served to give credence to the reputation of his well-known, teacher-abiding, rule-following attitude, was Percy Weasley.

Chapter Text

" If you can't explain it simply, you don't understand it well enough"

-Albert Einstein

Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Power

Part Eleven

Harry Potter & the Whispers of Desire

Chapter Eleven: Detention in the Dungeon

The four of them were shepherded into the office of an irate Professor McGonagall by a thoroughly unamused Percy Weasley. Their Head of House met them dressed in a tartan dressing gown, covering her flannel pyjamas, with her grey hair wound tightly into two small buns, one at each side of her head.

Idly, Alex wondered if she ever let her hair down at all, and the very thought made him want to snigger, but, sensing his amusement, a mere glance of the expression the Transfiguration Mistress was wearing, was more than enough to have Alex squash that thought instantly.

The four of them lined up in front of her office desk, stood side-by-side with an obviously disapproving Percy still stood behind them, as the transfiguration professor came to a stop behind her desk, her cheeks becoming slightly redder by the second, as her lips thinned into a single line.

"What on earth did the four of you think you were doing?"

She spat each word at them, her tone laced with a raw venom that had them hanging their heads in complete shame, "Not only were the four of you caught out of your beds at this hour, but Mister Weasley told me exactly where he found you!"

The quartet resisted the urge to whimper at her tone; the sheer rage it contained left them feeling an amount of fear none of them knew could exist, "You four are all well aware that that particular corridor was declared out of bounds by the Headmaster at the beginning of the term, and yet you were found there, at midnight!"

She leant forwards, putting most of her weight on the table in front of her, as her own breathing came out in short, angered breaths, "There are no excuses I wish to hear tonight, now, Mister Weasley will escort you back to the common room, where you will remain! It is late, you all have classes tomorrow, and I am tired. You will each serve a detention with me next week, and you have now lost twenty points for Gryffindor", at their grim faces, she straightened back up, "each"

"What?!"

"That's not-"

"Why-"

"Professor-"

She held her hand up to silence them, and focused only on the prefect stood behind them, "Mister Weasley, please escort these four back to the common room, where they will remain for the remainder of the night"

"Of course Professor"

Stepping out of the shadows only served to make him appear more menacing, as the complete darkness was replaced by the shifting shadows caused by the flickering flames from the main common room's barely-there fire.

Harry heard Draco swallow from beside him, as he forced his breath out in quiet shallow motions, trying not to betray his feelings as he stared his Head of House in the eye.

"I trust that the two of you were not caught in this particular endeavour of yours"

Harry could only stare on, while Draco stammered out, "No- no Sir"

The corners of the Potion Masters lips twitched up into an amused smirk, almost relishing in their fear as he stared down at the two of them, "Mister Malfoy, it's quite late, you should run along to bed now. Mister Potter, you will remain behind for a moment"

The blond haired boy didn't take the time to spare his partner-in-crime for the night a glance, making a beeline straight for the stairs without hesitation, escaping to the dormitory below.

"Sir, I-"

"Silence"

The one thing that impressed Harry the most about his Potions Master, was Professor Snape's ability to sound completely threatening without raising his voice by even a decibel. All he had to do was stare, and his sheer presence made people feel convinced that they should be quiet.

"Now Mister Potter", his irritated drawl was even more pronounced in the early morning, "I don't know what you and Mister Malfoy thought you were both up to this morning, I do however trust that you were not caught"

Silently, he kept eye contact as he nodded once.

"Good", his eyes focused in on his face, "now you might be unaware that your father was an arrogant lout during his time here, or that he strutted around this castle like it was his own personal property, believing that the rules of this place were beneath him, that they were for us mere mortals, and not the quidditch cup winners like himself, but I assure you", moving swiftly, not unlike the bat people often compared him to, he swooped down until they were face to face, and Harry could hear himself swallow, "I will tolerate no such behaviour from you. Am I clear?"

Maintaining the eye contact that he hadn't yet broken, Harry nodded again, not trusting his voice to work properly if he spoke up.

"Good", the Potions Master straightened back up, "now tell me. What exactly was so important that you decided to break curfew in just your third week at this school? I was under the impression that you were more level-headed than that foolish brother of yours, so it must have been something important to warrant such an outburst of stupidity from yourself"

"Alex-", he coughed to clear his throat, ignoring Snape's brief smirk, "Alexander. He challenged Draco to a duel. I offered to be his second-"

"And tell me; were you aware of what it was you were offering when you said as much?"

"Err… no Sir"

"I thought not. Did you at least have Mister Malfoy explain the concept to you, before you decided to leave the safety of the common room?"

"I did Sir"

"And did he explain it to you?"

"Ahh… sort of?"

The Potion Master bit down on a groan of irritation, "Detention Mister Potter", he held up his hand to dispel the arguments that the boy no doubt already had brewing in his mind, "my office, Monday evening at seven o'clock", he spoke with a tone that brokered no arguments, and finally, looking annoyed, the boy nodded, before taking his teacher's lack of speech as a dismissal, and heading for his bed.

From his place in the centre of the common room, Severus Snape did not let his gaze wander from the boy's back as he retreated, instead he felt the gears of his mind begin to turn, as he began to think.

After everything had calmed down, it had ended up being a rough few days for Percy.

He knew he wasn't like his other brothers - he had known that for years - Bill and Charlie were not only both smart and talented, but wherever they went, they were also always surrounded by friends wherever they went, be they at school or at work. At the other end of the spectrum, his immediately younger brothers, Fred and George, were able to make anyone and everyone around them laugh and smile with a casual ease, revelling in their prankster ways, and generally causing mischief everywhere they went; even Ron, the youngest of the Weasley brothers had managed to make a solid friend in Alexander Potter. Percy wasn't overly found of the Boy-Who-Lived, but it made Ron happy, and his mother too by extension, so he put up with it.

No, Percy wasn't easily popular, nor was he someone capable of making everyone around him laugh with his whimsical side. He didn't have very many friends, in fact, he had very few, and only one of them was in Gryffindor House.

All Percy really had in his life was his education, the one area in his life where he always strived to be the very best; the one area in which he was able to be better than the rest of his brothers.

The reputation of learning and rule-abiding was one that he'd worked hard to earn; one he'd managed to maintain ever since he had started school; and for his family, it had been one he'd held for his entire life.

The world, in his mind, was quite simple to understand; because in the world, there were rules, and the rules were there for a single reason. If you didn't follow the rules and abide by them, then what was the point of them? They existed to help keep people safe, to help make sure that everyone was treated the same way - treated fairly - and if you didn't follow the rules, if you didn't enforce the rules, then why did any of it matter?

All that would be left was anarchy.

It was because of his way of thinking that he'd been the obvious choice for Professor McGonagall to select as the fifth-year prefect over the summer. He could tell the rest of the House wasn't thrilled about his position, but the choice only really came down to himself or Oliver, and there was no way in the name of Le Fay that Oliver would ever allow anything to be put ahead of his precious quidditch.

Therefore, prefect Percy it was.

He'd managed to go the rest of the week barely seeing anyone from Gryffindor outside of the library, there was just too much homework for him to be getting on with - it was his OWL year after all - so it wasn't until Monday morning when he first noticed it.

They were all blaming him.

Eighty points were gone from Gryffindor, twenty points per student caught out of bounds, putting them into negative figures for the House Cup, and it wasn't even October yet. There were four First Years caught out of their beds and somehow, he was the one getting the blame for all of it.

No, it wasn't Alexander and Ronald's faults - the two boys who had been foolish to agree to having a midnight duel with two members from Slytherin House. Nor was it the fault of Granger and Longbottom - who had both, for reasons Percy couldn't quite fathom, followed them to what was supposed to be a two-against-two duel. No - it was his fault for catching them in the completely out-of-bounds and uncertain death corridor.

Just how was that supposed to be fair?

The rest of the House had almost all instantly blamed him for the points loss, when all he had done, was uphold the responsibilities that came with the badge he had proudly pinned to his chest.

Once they started to gain points again, and were no longer in the black, but back in the red, their anger with him would recede, and they'd go back to treating him with indifference.

He just had to get on with his life until then.

"Good morning Weaselby"

He looked up from the Runes textbook he was perusing, taking a moment to roll his eyes at his friend, even as Madam Pince 'shushed' the two of them back into quieter tones.

"Good morning to you too Lucy"

Lucan scoffed as he took the seat, giving a glancing look to the page his fellow prefect was reading over, unsurprised to see that he was making a start on the homework they'd only been given an hour ago. Percy Weasley was nothing, if not predictable - always the first to get his homework done and handed in, the first to volunteer for any classwork, never scoring any lower than an 'Acceptable' throughout the entirety of his school life, always determined to find a way to succeed where others failed.

His determination was part of the reason Lucan liked him so much.

"So anyway", the Slytherin prefect seemed to be ignoring the 'silence in the library' rule, "I hear we have you to thank for us now being uncontested in the House Cup so far. So, I just wanted to pass by and say a big, 'thank you', on behalf of all the members of Slytherin House"

"I'm not the one who snuck out at midnight. I don't know why they're all blaming me"

"Probably because they have to blame someone, and who in their right mind is going to blame Alex Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Honestly, did you really think that they'd blame their precious golden child? He's the Potter's only son, you know, despite the fact that there's two of them"

"Speaking of the two of them", Percy cut his friend off before he could pick up steam, "apparently they were heading off for for a duel with Malfoy and Harry-"

"Ohh", Lucan shot him an amused smirk, "Harry is it? On a first name basis with one of my little snakes now, are we? Oh, just what would the lions' pack say?"

He returned the smirk with one of his own, "He offered", he paused as Lucan laughed, and the two of them were 'shushed' again, as they lowered their voices, suitably chastised, "anyway, what happened to the two of them? Why didn't they show?"

"Well according to my sources-"

"So Professor Snape told you"

"Hush now you - apparently they were in the corridor when Peeves apparently caught the others; somehow they managed to get all the way back to the common room without being seen… only to walk straight into Professor Snape"

He winced, remembering what Lucan had once told him in confidence - that the Potions Master had a tendency to be the harshest of taskmasters when it came to his own charges - but only in private though.

Slytherins were always united in public.

"So, what's the damage?"

"Nothing for Malfoy. The little swot got off scot-free"

"And what about Harry?"

"Detention with Snape. Tonight"

"Poor kid"

Lucan let out a small laugh as they were levelled with a glare from the school librarian that had him ducking his head, as Percy shook with silent laughter, his shoulders moving, but no sound being made.

Almost absently, he reached into his bag to take out his own Runes textbook, before lightly hitting him over the head with it in one swift move, earning him a glare, as he began to make a start on his own essay.

As a general rule, most people hated Mondays.

But Harry admitted to himself, that he wasn't most people, he loved the idea of starting a new week - he hated weekends - weekends meant he had to see The Dursleys for two solid days without any sort of reprieve, which was worse during the school year, because the weather wasn't always good enough to go out in, but even that was better than the solid seven days of the summer holidays. His love of Mondays had only gotten better since he had started his new school, now new Mondays meant even more new lessons, and new spells to learn and be taught.

New magic to be learnt.

Even if this new Monday meant he had a detention.

He had to 'suffer' through a Potions Theory class first thing, as Blaise had taken to saying, but he thought they weren't actually too bad. They started with a brief lecture, before they were assigned a few questions to find the answers to, based on the Potion Master's words, as well as a few passages to read from their textbook. He'd already read the passages before he got there, finishing before everyone else, so if Professor Snape was bothered by the fact that he used the extra time to read his Charms and Transfiguration books instead, then he hadn't said anything.

He quietly packed away his few things from their Potions lesson, as Blaise stood next to him, already packed up and ready to go. Draco was being his usual charming self, looking even more smug than ever before, after he had discovered that he had been given no punishment whatsoever, while Harry was going to be serving a detention later tonight.

Their Transfiguration lesson was both interesting and dull at the same time. He enjoyed learning about the different uses and the applications of Transfiguration - it was quickly becoming one of his favourite branches of magic - but there had to be something more interesting for them to do other than try to turn plastic buttons into metal ones.

Or just simply turn, in his case.

By the end of the class, he was the only one to have turned all of his buttons into metal, earning him another five points for Slytherin, a pass from their homework for the week, which earned him more than a few envious looks from the members of both Houses, which were all ignored while Blaise pouted from his place beside him.

He enjoyed a steak and kidney pudding for lunch, while Blaise sat down to a small bowl of soup, before it was time for Charms.

For the full hour lesson, Harry sat with his textbook open in front of him, but otherwise untouched while he continued to coach Morag and Blaise through casting their levitation charms. They could both get their feathers to lift and hover for a few seconds, but both found it difficult to hold the spell for more than a few seconds.

It wasn't a problem he really understood, but they asked him to help them with it anyway.

He tried coaching them through it, but at the end of their class the two of them still hadn't gotten anywhere, nor really had almost everyone else. So far, the only other people who had managed to cast their spell in the time they'd been learning it were himself, Malfoy, Daphne, and two of the Hufflepuff girls called Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, Hannah having gotten it before the other three.

He lingered while everyone left the classroom, the other members of his house heading off towards their Defence lesson together, a class they shared with Hufflepuff again, while Professor Flitwick conjured up a pile of paper for him to use as a target for his fire charm.

"Right then Mister Potter", with a flick of his wand, the diminutive professor, safely moved his window blinds out of the way, up to the ceiling where his best student couldn't set them alight, "let's see how much your control has improved since last week. You may begin casting when ready"

From beneath the sleeve of his robe, he withdrew the twelve inches of yew wood that made up his wand, and absently twirled it in the fingers before settling it into the palm of his hand, keeping it held firmly, but still loose enough to easily manoeuvre.

Holding it in front of him, he took a slow, controlled breath, and kept his voice level as his wand snapped downwards, "Incendio"

Unlike last time, which had been a powerful blast of flames, but also too much for him to control, this time he focused on creating a small, steady stream of controlled fire, and was rewarded with a solid beam of warm yellow. It promptly lit the paper on fire, before proceeding to incinerate it; he ceased his spell and noticed that while his control was much better this time, the spell wasn't nearly as strong as it had been during his first time casting it. Nonetheless satisfied with the result, he turned to face the Charms Master, who already had a large smile on his face.

"Oh ho! Well done Mister Potter, well done indeed", Flitwick gave a little clap, as he vanished the paper ashes away, "take five points for Slytherin. If you keep this up, then I'm going to run out of spells for you to learn before the end of the year… perhaps I should come up with something bigger"

The older wizard trailed off talking to himself about different ideas, as he pulled out a late slip, so that Professor Quirrell wouldn't give him another punishment on top of the standing one he already had with Professor Snape.

He rushed up the stairs to Defence, not running in public, but moving quickly enough that he looked rushed, before he slid into the classroom just as his professor was about the shut the door. Muttering a quick apology, he handed over the slip Flitwick had given him, and waited to be waved off, Professor Quirrell having read the note, before he slipped into his seat.

The only spare seat was the one next to Ernie Macmillan, who he greeted with a cordial nod, before he pulled the textbook from his bag, and opened it to continue their theoretical work on the basic principles of the different types of shielding used in the world, as Professor Quirrell took his place at the front of the room and their lecture began.

Happy to have a reprieve from the day, and a break before he had to serve his detention with Professor Snape, he decided to head up to the library, so that he could read up on the basic theory behind the common 'Protego' shield, which they would be covering in their next lesson, though they weren't allowed to learn the spell for another three years, as it would be too taxing on them, and their bodies weren't yet developed enough to handle the more advanced spells.

When he had read The Standard Book of Spells, the author, Miranda Gorshawk, had written that each spell in the book was written in order of difficulty - the first spells were the easiest to cast, and took the least amount of effort, the further you read, the more difficult the spell - it was why he was struggling with controlling his 'Incendio' spell, as despite it being a Grade One charm, it was on one of the last pages - Professor Flitwick had just enjoyed giving him something challenging to learn, as he was already ahead of everyone else, who was still struggling with the casting of 'Wingardium Leviosa' and the lighting charms.

He offered Madam Pince a small smile as he entered the library, which she returned with a ghost of one, while he made his way to the section of the library devoted to Defence Against the Dark Arts, looking at the first year books, he selected a copy of 'Defensive Manoeuvres by Albert Kelley', and set about looking for a space to work.

Seeing that most of the tables were full, he walked around looking for a spare space, ignoring the stares he was getting from the other students. He'd been at the school for nearly a month and he was still earning stares from most of the people that he didn't have classes with or share a common room.

He was about to try and find a seat in another area of the library when he saw Lucan sat at a mostly empty table, with a book in his hands, and a roll of parchment unfurled in front of him. The older boy took in his distress, and waved him over, pointing at one of the free seats next to him, and he made his way over to it, sliding in with a grateful smile, noticing for the first time, the redhead that he was seated with.

"Hi Harry"

"Hello Lucan", he turned to take in the sight of his friend, and was surprised to see that he recognised him, "and hello to you too Percy"

"Hello Harry", the Gryffindor fifth year took a peek at his book, "I take it Quirrell's got you researching shielding?"

"Yep", he nodded as he flicked towards the section on 'Protego', "he wants a ten-inch essay, seven inches on the Protego shield, and to see if we can find an alternative to it, which is either easier to cast, or offers more protection"

"Do you know what you're going to do for that part yet?"

"Well, I was thinking about doing the full ten inches on 'Protego', and then doing some excess", he couldn't help but notice both of them wince slightly, "what? What's wrong with that?"

"It's good that you're aiming to go beyond what's been asked of you, shows a great work ethic and all, but, err…", Lucan trailed off, looking at his friend, who rolled his eyes in response, before he turned to face the younger wizard.

"Imagine for a moment that you're Professor Quirrell", he paused for a moment while Harry nodded his following before he continued, "you've now got a class of twenty students, and you've asked each one of them for ten inches on shielding. You've now got two hundred inches of parchment to mark, right? And now imagine, each one of them writes thirteen inches-"

"That's an extra sixty inches to mark"

"Now remember that there's two classes"

"An extra one hundred and twenty inches"

"And six more years, whose essays are probably a lot longer than yours"

"That's…", he trailed off, "a lot of inches to mark", he finished lamely.

"Exactly", Percy nodded himself, glad that the younger boy understood, "and then there's one other thing to take into account, as well as all that"

"What's that?"

"That you've only been asked for ten inches of work, so if you have to write twelve inches just to do the work, then all that shows Professor Quirrell is that-"

"I'm incapable"

"More like you don't have a complete understanding of what it is you've been asked to do, even if you manage to get the right answer, but yes, that is the general idea"

Harry nodded his head a few times as he mulled over what it was that was being said, before making eye contact, "Okay then, that makes sense, so I'll make sure it fits. Do you have any ideas of what I should do for my extra three inches?"

"Well", Lucan cut himself back into the conversation, knowing that Percy, as strict as he was, would simply give away the answers if he was directly asked for them, without making Harry work for it, "what do you think a good solution would be, without knowing any of the spells"

The boy looked off for a moment, rolling the options he'd want inside of his head, organising his thoughts before he spoke, "A stronger shield would be harder to cast, wouldn't it? And that means that you'd get tired faster casting it"

"Yep. So now you need to think it through. What are the solutions to that problem then?"

"A weaker shield is no good, even if it is easier to cast, and in any case, Professor Quirrell says that you can't move while you're casting a shield"

"You can move, but it's meant to be really difficult to do, I mean I know I can't do it"

"Neither can I", Percy chimed in, looking at the two of them with no small amount of curiosity.

"Okay, so the easiest thing to do then is dodge the spell"

"Good Harry, your thinking is a bit more varied now, but I don't think that's what Quirrell had in mind. What if you're leg's injured and you can't move? Or if there's nowhere to move to?"

"You could always make stuff to block the spells"

"And how exactly would you do that?"

"You could make stuff like chairs appear in the way, or you could make the floor raise you higher-"

"Charms and transfiguration", both of the older boys nodded, "now you're thinking like a wizard"

Harry beamed, before replacing it with a neutral expression at a speed that impressed Lucan, before the boy spoke again, "It would be nice if you could just make the spells bounce off of you, or maybe even send them back with your own wand - like a mirror"

He knew he'd gotten it when he saw the two prefects exchange a grin, before Percy offered him a slip of paper he'd hastily written the title of a book down on.

"So, tell us Harry", the redhead looked decidedly impressed, "have you ever heard of the term 'spell-swatting'?"

Finishing the first seven inches of the draft of his 'Protego' essay in quick time, he slipped the rolled-up piece of parchment into his bag, where he could re-write it out later, in his neater handwriting, before turning it in at his next class with the extra material.

Leaving his bag under the watchful eye of Lucan, Percy having left them in order to grab an early dinner before he had to start on his prefect rounds, he slinked off in between the bookshelves, with the scrap of paper Percy had given him earlier, clenched tightly in his fist.

Halfway down one of the rows, he found the only copy of 'Duelling Theory by Leigh Aimes' that the school had and wasted no time in lifting it from the shelf. He made his way back to the desk and slid the copy of the book into his schoolbag, while across from him, Lucan was also beginning to pack his things away.

By unspoken agreement, they made their way down towards the Great Hall, and Lucan split off to sit with the other Sixth Years, while Harry continued on to his own year-mates, settling himself in between Theo and Millicent.

He received a few greetings and nods as he pulled the shepherd's pie towards himself, before piling a generous helping of it onto his plate, which could almost rival the portions Crabbe and Goyle were consuming. He wasn't used to eating much himself, always having to fight for the scraps at the end of The Dursley's meals, but ever since he had arrived at Hogwarts, he'd felt as though he was completely starving every time he sat down for a meal.

He added carrots and peas as some sides, pouring himself a large goblet of pumpkin juice and tucking in to his meal, before he decided to join the others in conversation.

"-new seeker. It's complete favouritism"

"Of course it is", Draco's drawl cut across everyone else, and Harry's attention turned to him, as he attempted to understand what was happening, "Dumbledore's always gone soft on the lions. Why would he make them follow the same rules as the rest of us?"

Feeling confused, he swallowed a mouthful of pie, "What happened?"

"You haven't heard?" Pansy was always the first one of them to take a moment for gossip, "After what happened in our Flying Lesson the other day, Hooch and McGonagall both went to Dumbledore, and now Alexander Potter is the new starting seeker for the Gryffindor quidditch team"

He choked on his next mouthful of carrots, "What!?"

He forced himself to swallow, "That is…", he trailed off as he realised he was about to repeat Tracey's words from earlier, "yeah…"

He turned around in his chair, looking over towards the sea of red and gold that was Gryffindor House, and like a pair of magnets, his gaze was immediately drawn to his brother, who just happened to look up at the exact same moment. Their eyes connected for a single second and Alexander's lips curled up in a smug, satisfied smile; opposite the hall, Harry felt his jaw tighten and his teeth clench at the back of his mouth. The two of them kept their contact long enough for Alex to offer him a cheery little wave.

Inhaling the growl that threatened to spill from his chest, Harry turned away from his brother, and filled his mouth with another portion of pie. He looked up to see Blaise's eyes on him, but they were quickly averted from the glare he felt levelled at him.

Sensing his tension, they all decided to move the topic away from the subject of Gryffindor's new seeker, and instead moved onto discussing their Transfiguration homework, which left Harry free to eat, as he had been given a pass from it.

While Draco and Blaise argued over their respective abilities in the classroom, both of them declaring they were the best in their year, trying to proclaim their superiority based on whose blood was better. After an entire month in the castle, the two of them were now being constantly shushed by the older students, who were getting bored of their arguing.

Daphne and Tracey kept themselves into a private conversation, with their heads tucked down, as they enjoyed their evening meal. Blaise and Draco continued to argue, albeit in quieter tones than they had before, with the others hanging onto their every word, while Harry and Theo returned quietly to their meals, both of them wolfing down extra-large portions of shepherds' pie, while the two of them were unknowingly watched by the two sixth year prefects.

They all lingered at the table, letting the weariness from a new Monday's lessons fall away from them as they ate together, lingering long enough that they were still there as the plates were taken away, and the food began to disappear as people began to leave.

Heading back down to the dungeons, they decided to go as a group, with all of the First Years going together - even Blaise and Draco managed to hold off on their arguing while they made their way back.

If any of them were looking at their older housemates, then they would've noticed the approving nods they were getting as they moved as a team, while members of the other three houses, and even some of the staff, looking at them in surprise and with raised eyebrows as they left the Great Hall.

It was in a companionable silence that they all made their way back towards the Slytherin common rooms, the eleven of them pausing only at the last corridor, where the rest of them would continue onto the common rooms, while Harry had to turn right, onto the small corridor for the Potion Master's office, where he had to serve his detention for Professor Snape.

"Try not to be killed", Blaise's ever-cheery retort was met by a roll of Harry's eyes, before his dark-skinned, half-Italian friend clapped him on the back in farewell.

The others offered their goodbyes, as they would no doubt be asleep by the time Professor Snape released him, and therefore they wouldn't see him until tomorrow.

"Yes Potter", Draco's drawl cut across them all from where he was waiting on them all to go to the common rooms, "do have some fun won't you? For the both of us"

His attempt at humour was met with guffaws from his two goons, and a small shrieking laugh from Pansy, while the others all chose to ignore him, as Harry bade them all a, "Goodnight", before he made his way to the small black door at the end of the hallway, with a small plaque that read:

Professor S. Snape
Hogwarts Potion Master

Satisfied that he was in the right place, he hesitated slightly, before he raised his right hand and knocked twice.

One.

Two.

"Enter"

"Enter"

As he spoke the words, Severus Snape set aside the quill he was using to mark his Third Year Ravenclaws, finding that they had done well, but he was unimpressed with their work. It was academically correct, but it lacked the passion he sought for in his students. It was something only a true potioneer would have, and it was so very difficult to find, he himself had only found three like-minded students in his tenure at Hogwarts, and each one of them was now a world renowned and respected Potions Master, with all of them currently working in different research positions around the world - one for the British Ministry of Magic, doing classified work in the Department of Mysteries; one of them was working for the International Confederation of Wizards in Greece's Library of Alexandria; and his latest one was currently on a research trip around South America, studying the effects of various magical beast's venoms and poisons, and their effects on wizards.

While they weren't what Severus would call friends, nor had they ever been colleagues, the three's reputations had been bolstered by revealing that they had studied under him, who was arguably the greatest and most well-known Potions Master in the world, and the trio made sure to at least include him in their Christmas card lists.

On the far side of his small office, Severus watched on as the Potter from the House of Snakes pushed open his door, his face calm and composed as he entered the threshold, and silently came to stand in front of his desk, arms behind his back, making eye contact as he stood there, waiting for his instructions.

"Potter", the boy looked up at his Head of House, who indicated the small desk in front of his own, "sit"

Silently, the boy slid into his seat, with his back straight and his head held high, while the professor walked around his desk, coming to perch on the edge of it, looking down at his young charge. He took a few moments to centre himself, breathing deeply.

"Tell me Potter, why is it that you are here?"

"Because I have a detention", at Snape's scowl, he hastened to tack on, "Sir"

"And pray tell me, why is it that you have a detention?"

"Because I broke curfew Sir. You caught me out of bed at midnight"

The older wizard practically snarled at the boy, as he swept down to his level, dropping until they were practically nose-to-nose, "Do I look like an idiot to you Mister Potter? Well… do I?"

"No…", he managed to stammer out, "no Sir"

"Then why are you insisting on telling me about events that I already have knowledge of. You and the young Mister Malfoy were both caught out of bounds, at midnight, after you both decided to head up to the Trophy Room for a midnight duel with two First Year Gryffindors in Alexander Potter and Ronald Weasley. I already know all of this, so why is it Mister Potter that you are here with me, serving a detention, while your young friend Draco is currently sat back in the common room, no doubt relaxing and enjoying what remains of his evening"

"I don't know Sir"

"Hmm… a pity", his scowl lessened slightly, though it was still visible, "let me see if we can walk your dunderheaded mind through it shall we? You agreed to be Mister Malfoy's second for his duel with your own brother, despite the fact that you had no knowledge of what that meant, or what the consequences would be for agreeing to duel against your own brother? Despite these facts, which you have already admitted to, you neither asked anyone else what it would entail, as almost any senior member of Slytherin House could've told you, nor did you bother to even read a book on the subject, and believe me, there are plenty in the school library. Tell me Potter", he shot the boy a withering look, but Harry refused to break his gaze, "do you even know any offensive spells that you could use to duel with?"

"No Sir"

If Severus Snape had been born part-dragon, Harry was certain smoke would've flown from his nostrils at his last answer, "Then what in the name of Merlin was your plan going into that evening?"

"I've been learning the fire charm with Professor Flitwick", at that revelation, the older wizard's eyes widened imperceptibly, "I was going to use it to set their robes on fire, if Draco wasn't able to cast any of the curses he said he'd learnt"

Severus almost snorted at the image of the two Gryffindors dancing around while flames licked at them from their own clothes, but managed to control himself at the last second, as he returned his wandering gaze back towards his student, who was still sat dutifully on his stool.

"I'd imagine no one below at least their fourth year would be able to cast any curses, even one of the weakest ones", the boy's eyes snapped back to his own, "true curses require a very strong level of magic to cast, and being that difficult, they require time and training to master, and even more time and training to cast with any degree of real precision", seeing that he now had a captive audience, he decided to elaborate, "hexes are the level of offensive magic below curses, I would image most third years could begin to manage to cast some of the lower level ones, and then there are jinxes, which are the weakest form of offensive magic you can cast, though I advise that you do not underestimate them, for they can be just as useful in a duel, and just as damaging to your chances of victory"

"I see"

"Do you? I'm not so sure you do", straightening up, the Potions Master moved across the room, before he retrieved a small maroon, leather bound book from one of his shelves behind his desk, and together with a quill and parchment, he placed them on the desk, and Harry took the opportunity to read the title, Duelling: A Most Sacred Art.

"The quill is a self-inking one. I want you to read through that book and copy out the parts you feel are most relevant to your current situation. You will continue to do so until I dismiss you. Is that clear?"

"Crystal clear Sir"

"Then I suggest that you begin"

As Severus finished up with the marking of the homework he'd collected, he took a quick look at the watch on his wrist, a gift from his mother on his seventeenth birthday, which told him that it was now quarter to ten at night, and that he should be getting Mister Potter back to his dormitory.

"Show me what you have written so far"

At his command, the boy immediately moved to finish what he was writing, before placing the quill back on his desk and moving to hand over the parchment he'd been writing on. After a few minutes of reading through his young student's notes, he deemed it satisfactory, and he was pleased to see that all of the notes he'd written had focused on the various rules and regulations involved in duelling, rather than tips and techniques. Nodding at the boy, he handed them back, where he was pleased to see that they were carefully placed into the inner pocket of his robe.

"Take a seat Mister Potter, I'll hold you for a few moments longer yet", he paused long enough for the boy to, sit back down, as he pulled out the notes he'd been compiling over the weekend, "are you aware that shortly after the beginning of each school term, each of your teachers evaluates you as a student, and then we rank all of you?"

Harry shook his head, "No Sir"

"I didn't think you were. So naturally you will also not be aware that, when we requested, we will also owl out progress reports to your guardians, however I do not think that Petunia Dursley will appreciate the letter, nor do I believe she will particularly care about your progress"

"She won't Sir"

"Yes, well, if you have no objections, then I will update you personally…", he trailed off, in an attempt to phrase it as a suggestion, but he knew from the look in the boy's eyes that he wanted to know, and he saw no point in keeping them waiting any longer than he had already - even he wanted his sleep.

"Professors Flitwick, Quirrell and Binns all have you placed first in their class; Professor McGonagall has you at second, though they have all noted that you seem especially skilled in those subjects. Professor Flitwick has in particular noted how advanced you appear to be compared to your peers and was even more suitably impressed when I informed him you had been raised as a muggle for the first eleven years of your life. That you are somehow scoring perfect marks in History of Magic, I believe demonstrates your strong work ethic, as I believe most of your classmates use the time to catch up on their sleep"

Harry smirked, but replaced it so quickly that Snape found himself almost feeling impressed, while a thought nagged at the back of his head, as it had ever since his first Potions lesson with the boy, "You are also ranked fourth for the year in the Astronomy, seventh in Herbology, and for the single Flying class you had, Madam Hooch has noted that while you were polite, and she could not fault your technique on a broom, that you appeared to be 'reluctant' and 'generally uninterested' in her subject"

At that, he raised an eyebrow in question, while the boy shrugged, in an attempt to look nonchalant, "I don't like flying Sir"

"So, I can assume that you won't be replacing Mister Higgs as the seeker for the Slytherin House quidditch team"

"No Sir. Alexander can fly all he likes", the boy smirked again, showing it this time, "I'll just have to win the duelling tournament for my House instead"

Severus almost laughed, looking at the boy that was a mirror image of his childhood nemesis, determined to bring glory to Slytherin House and not Gryffindor, "Then you should keep that book until you've read all of it. Now it is almost time for your curfew, go back to the common rooms and get to bed"

Standing up, Harry tucked his stool back under the desk, and had made it to the door before his Head of House called out, "And Mister Potter", the two looked at each other once more, "I trust you won't be foolish enough to be caught next time you do something like this. Goodnight"

"Goodnight Sir"

Chapter Text

" Do or do not. There is no try"

-Yoda

Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Power

Part Twelve

Harry Potter & the Whispers of Desire

Chapter Twelve: All Hallows' Eve

"I've got to be honest", Harry said to Blaise, as the two of them made their way down to the Great Hall for lunch, "I thought that wizards would be a bit more…", he trailed off, unsure of how to phrase his question, while Blaise smirked at his friend, enjoying seeing that, while Harry did an extremely good job at fitting in with other wizards, even with people as finicky as those that were sorted into Slytherin House, there were still things that he didn't know - things he couldn't know, not until he'd lived them.

"A bit more traditional? Samhain and the Autumnal Equinox and things like that"

"Well", Blaise was sure that he wasn't imagining the pink dusting that Harry's cheeks now held, "yeah"

Blaise chuckled as he followed Harry into the Great Hall, before guiding him to some privacy at the end of their dining table, "Witches and wizards, or British witches and wizards at least, used to celebrate the festival of Samhain, the same way muggles did, but it's all mostly fell out of practice in the last century or two"

The two of them reached for dinner, and it didn't miss Blaise's attention that Harry was once again eating the same amount as Crabbe and Goyle, despite their massive frames when compared to his tiny one.

In fact, Harry looked different too, but he couldn't quite place his finger on the why.

"How come it all fell out of practice?"

"Well", Blaise reached across and grabbed the bread rolls, "a part of the Festival of Samhain was dedicated to paying tribute to our lost souls, which is something we still do, but most of it was focused upon reflection, and that means a lot of divination, which more and more people were discounting as 'fake'", he made air quotes around the word as he was speaking, "so they started ignoring the more traditional aspects, and from there they just began celebrating Halloween instead, besides", Blaise offered him a little grin, "who doesn't love free sweets?"

Harry cocked an eyebrow in response, "You said 'they', as in not 'you', so…"

Blaise rolled his eyes, "I come from a line of particularly gifted witches and wizards, and anyway, don't forget, I'm half-Italian, not British"

"So how does that help you to know all this? You nap when it's time for History of Magic, and have me wake you up when it's time to leave"

"I grew up listening to this stuff. Mother expected me to be able to recite this all from memory, at the drop of a hat. I had to learn it, you on the other hand, grew up learning about muggles, which is boring, and that's why you actually need to pay attention in class"

"That still doesn't answer the part of my question based on you being from a 'particularly gifted' lineage", he made air quotes as he spoke, mimicking his friend's action from earlier.

"No", his friend smiled at him, "no it doesn't"

Blaise would say no more on the subject, no matter how much Harry tried to wheedle more information out of him. He gave up after a few minutes, when it was clear that Blaise was just ignoring his questions, changing track when Daphne and Tracey slid into the seats next to them.

"Girls, I have a quick question for both of you"

Daphne shot him a dry look, "Why, hello to you too Potter"

"We just saw you in Herbology not fifteen minutes ago"

Tracy decided to cut in with her perky voice, dispelling an argument before it could start, "So what's the question?"

"What are your thoughts on Divination?"

"Ugh", was Daphne's sole reply, which really said it all in Harry's opinion, but Tracey's response was to crinkle her nose, sending him a look of distaste, while ignoring his question completely, before she pulled over the nearest salad bowl to her plate, before offering it to the rest of them. Blaise declined her offer, while Daphne made herself a plate and Harry made one to go alongside the large bowl of soup he had just finished eating, as he dished it out, ignorant the incredulous stares of the others.

"Swish and flick, swish and flick, swish and flick", was what the people next to Alex, including Ron, kept muttering to themselves as they once again attempted to master the levitation charm.

"Wingardium Leviosa", he intoned, and with the right wand motion, he waved his wand, only to feel frustrated when his feather only twitched on his desk instead of levitating the way it should.

He gave it another attempt, and watched as it jumped on his desk, before floating back down, and he fought back the urge to groan aloud.

It was unbecoming, as his mother would say.

Before he could give it his final attempt of the lesson, he felt a gush of air on the back of his head, and turned in his seat to look at the row above, where Ron was shaking his wand at his feather in anger, and he instinctively flinched.

Magic and anger was never a good combination.

"Stop, stop, stop, you're going to take someone's eye out", sat on Ron's left, Hermione Granger held her hands out in front of Ron as she attempted to stop him, "you're going to take someone's eye out, besides", she offered him a satisfied little smile, "you're saying it wrong, it's wing-gar -dee- um levi-o-sa, not levi-o-sar"

Hermione Granger was a bit of a loner in their house, she was the smartest witch in their year, or at least that's what he had overheard Professor McGonagall saying, which he thought was even more impressive given that she was a muggleborn student, not that there was anything wrong with that, his mother was a muggleborn, it's just that she didn't even know that magic existed until she was eleven years old.

She was a bit too smug some of the time, but he had to admit, she was probably one of the top students in their year, and she earned them a lot of House points too.

"Let's see you do it then, if you're so clever"

Alex barely had time to look back up at the two of them, before he, and everyone else, watched on as she lifted her feather into the air, swishing, flicking, and incanting, levitating her feather for a brief moment, and then raising it up to the ceiling where everyone else could see it.

"Look everyone", Professor Flitwick's excited voice brought everyone's attention to the feather in the air, "see here, Miss Granger's done it"

Ron's response was to fold his arms onto the desk and look like he was sulking.

"Ugh, you should've heard her - it's levi-o-sa, not levio-sar", Ron was giving the other boys in his year a rundown of what had happened in their Charms class, in what Alex thought was actually a really good impression of her voice, "she's a nightmare, honestly, it's no wonder she doesn't have any friends"

They all agreed, except for Neville, who Alex wasn't sure was actually listening to them, when they heard a sniffle from behind them, and before they could turn around to see what was happening, something was slammed into Ron's shoulder as it went past, and the boys had just enough time to see a mass of bushy brown hair speed walk past them.

Dean's eyes widened slightly, as he turned to Ron, "I think she heard you mate"

"Yeah, well", their redheaded friend stuttered for a moment, before straightening up, looking emboldened, "she must've realised I was right. She doesn't have any friends"

"Yeah", idly, Alex wondered is he should do anything about that, "come on then guys, let's go get some dinner, we have Transfiguration with Slytherin later"

Seamus clapped him on the back, and even Neville perked up slightly at that, "Now that sounds like a plan"

Hermione didn't reappear for any of their afternoon classes, though it probably wasn't obvious to Professor Binns that she had missed their History of Magic lesson, her absence in Transfiguration was noticed, if not because it was taught by their Head of House, but because without her there, they didn't manage to score any house points, while Harry, who was still ignoring him from his place at the front of the classroom, continued to add points to Slytherin House.

"-holed up in the second floor bathroom all afternoon, crying her eyes out"

His hand stilled where it was, as he tried to listen to Parvati and Lavender, who were both sat on the desk behind him.

"Did Ron really say that to her?"

"That's what Seamus told me", Lavender giggled slightly, "not that I think he's wrong, but still-"

"-You don't actually go and say it to her"

"Oh Merlin no, oh quick shh, McGonagall's coming over"

A quick look told Alex that Professor McGonagall was making her way through the Gryffindors, checking on their progress, and given that his buttons were all still made of plastic, he decided it was best that he got back to work.

While the Halloween decorations had been impressive to Harry before the Halloween feast had started, they were nothing compared to what they were now.

Before, there had been a few animated pumpkins set about, and enchanted candles designed to spook people that walked by them, which when combined with the school's ghosts, was really creepy, it was nothing compared to what it was now.

The pumpkins and candles were still there, but now, dozens of live bats fluttered about the rafters, occasionally swooping down to try and steal food, while Halloween sweets laid put on the tables, which affected the people eating them in different ways, giving them skeletal and monstrous appearances for a minutes after eating them, which was discovered when Crabbe bit into a mint humbug, and his appearance was replaced with a view of his skeleton, which had them all jumping out of their seats.

A couple of the nearby upper years laughed at them as they sat back down, and unseen to everyone else, Harry slid his wand back into its holster, where he had automatically slid it from when he'd jumped with the rest of the First Years.

After a few words from Professor Dumbledore, congratulating everyone on an excellent first two months of the new school year, the food appeared on the tables, replacing the sweets that had been laid out before them.

Seeing what was in front of them, Harry helped himself to a jacket potato, which he loaded up with tuna, cheese, mayonnaise, as well as pouring a goblet of pumpkin juice, and a large salad plate, before he began shovelling a forkful of potato into his mouth, remaining mindful to keep his manners in check.

Across the room, Alex pulled a jacket potato over to himself, adding baked beans and butter for a topping, while Ron poured them both a glass of exploding lemonade, which had apparently been added as a Halloween treat.

Alex had just about to take a bite of his potato when Ron's lemonade exploded just as he took a sip, the sticky mess jumping out of the cup, and splashing his hair and eyebrows.

Laughter exploded around them, and even Ron managed to see the funny side of it, laughing as Fred and George ruffled his hair on their way past, heading to their friend Lee Jordan.

He was just about to bring his fork back to his mouth, where he could take his first bite when the doors to the Great Hall were flung open, slamming against the wall, and Professor Quirrell ran inside, making a beeline straight for the Headmaster, a worried look on his face.

Sending his distress, the Headmaster stood up, even as their Defence Professor opened his mouth, "Troll! There's a troll in the dungeons!"

And the Great Hall erupted into a panic.

Harry could see the rest of his fellow First Years screaming, as well as some of the younger Upper Year students, even those from the other three Houses, while the older years attempted to calm the younger ones.

Dropping their cutlery, everyone scrambled to their feet, and Harry let his wand slip into his hand, before placing the tip into the pocket of his robe, so that no one else could see it.

"SILENCE!"

Professor Dumbledore's voice cut through the mass of panic, instantly silencing everyone as the man though to be the world's most powerful wizard took control of the situation, as everyone looked to him for guidance.

"Prefects, you will lead your students back your common rooms immediately, in a calm and orderly fashion. Slytherin House, you will all please head upstairs to the library, and will remain there. Teachers, you will all follow myself and Professor Quirrell to the dungeons, where we will deal with the troll"

"You heard him", Lucan was already next to them, ushering them to their feet, "get up and get ready to go"

Moving as a single, coordinated group, Slytherin House made its way onto the stairs in year order, walking behind the Gryffindors, led by their Seventh Year students, with the First Years at the very back of the group.

"How did a troll get in here anyway", Harry whispered to Blaise from the very back of the line, "I thought they were supposed to be really stupid?"

"They are", he whispered back, "I don't know how it could've gotten in. Maybe it was a Halloween prank", he offered a suggestion, "the Weasley Twins are meant to be really good at them"

"I suppose, but still, it seems a bit much for a prank though, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess, but- Hey, what are they doing?"

He followed Blaise's line of sight, and watched on as Alexander and the youngest Weasley tried to slip away from the rest of their House unnoticed, but as unsubtle as they were, they had somehow managed to sneak past everyone else so far, so he supposed he would have to give them that.

Blaise grabbed a hold of his arm, pulling him after them, "Come on then", as he tried to drag him towards where his brother had just disappeared.

"What are you - let go of me - what are you doing?"

"Come on Hadrian", he registered the use of his full name, which anyone in his House barely ever used, "they're probably going to look for the troll, so let's follow them. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"You can't be serious?"

"I am, so suck it up like the wizard you are, and come with me", "at his friend's look of blank refusal, he added, with a solemn look on his face, "you know, a real friend wouldn't let me do this alone"

Gritting his teeth in irritation at the half-Italian wizard, Harry slid into the corridor behind Blaise, not wanting him to walk into, what he thought, was certain-danger alone, and stuck behind him as the two of them followed the foolish Gryffindors.

"Just so you know", he said conversationally to Blaise as they tracked the other two down the hallway, "if we die doing this, I'll never forgive you for it"

"Wait a second", Alex blurted out as he suddenly grabbed hold of Ron's arm, "I've just remembered about Hermione"

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll!"

Ron bit his lip in thought, eyeing the Ravenclaw contingent that was in front of them "Alright then, just, just make sure that Percy doesn't see us"

They both waited until they rounded a corner before Alex pulled him into the nearest broom closet, leaving just enough of it open that they could make sure the others had gone past.

Once they watched as Fay and Sophie, who were at the back, had gone past them, the two of them slipped out of the broom cupboard, making a mad dash down the hallway and then turning into one of the castle's deserted side corridors, before making their way towards the girl's bathroom.

They were almost there when they heard quick footsteps against the stone floor, and Ron pulled both of them behind a stone pillar, "It's Percy!"

Peeking around the corner, both of their eyes widened as they saw, not Percy, but Professor Snape running down the corridor in a hurry. He passed the corridor in front of them, failing to notice them, and not stopping as he made his way towards the staircase.

Alex turned to Ron, and hissed in his ear, "Where's he going?"

Silently, they crept out from behind the pillar, listening to the Potion Master's fading footsteps, straining to hear where he was headed.

"He's going to the Third Floor", Alex whisper-yelled, but Ron held up his hand with a look of disgust on his face.

"Can you smell that?"

He could.

He remembered when he was younger, his dad used to read him bedtime stories of great wizards who fought against trolls and giants, but he had always managed to make him laugh by describing the awful smell they all gave off. The descriptions would get more and more silly the longer he was there until mum would walk in, shaking her head at them and announcing that it was time for bed.

The stories, Alex decided, didn't really do it justice.

It was a mixture of rotting meat and worn socks, and both boys had to take a minute before the stench wasn't strong enough to make their eyes water. They crept forward just enough to see the troll itself, a mountain of pale grey-green flesh, dressed only in a dirty loincloth and dragging a massive club along the ground.

It was at least twelve feet tall, with tree trunk legs and horned feet, which were connected up to a massive stomach that bulged out over the loincloth, leading up to a massive chest and arms laden with muscle, and at the very top, there was an equally large, round head, devoid of any hair.

Grunting, it lumbered into the room in front of them, leaving the door open behind them, "The door's unlocked", Alex muttered nervously to Ron, "we could lock it in?"

"Yeah", Ron sounded just as nervous as he did, "let's do that"

Alex wasted no time in jumping forward and pulling the door shut, turning the key and locking the door shut, before the two of them turned to each other with a high five - they'd just outsmarted a troll.

The two of them turned back to the corridor, happy with a job well done, before a high pitched scream stopped them in their tracks.

"Is that-", Alex started, turning as pale as Nearly Headless Nick.

"-the girl's bathroom", Ron finished as he gasped.

"Hermione", they said together.

They'd forgotten why they were there in the first place!

Spinning on the spot, the two of them ran back towards the bathroom, not hesitating to turn the key in the lock, fumbling with it in their haste, before the two of them stepped forward and threw the doors open with a bang.

Hermione Granger was doing her best to shrink against the far wall, trying her best to hide under the line of sinks, scooting further and further away as the troll advanced on her, destroying the bathroom as it went.

"Split up", he muttered to Ron, "try and confuse it"

Ron listened to him and ran to the other side of the room, grabbing a piece of broken wood as he went, which he threw at the trolls head when he got to the toilets on the other side.

"Oi, Pea Brain!"

Harry snickered, Pea Brain, as he fought not to laugh out loud at their stupidity, while Blaise was still trying to pull him into the fray.

The two of them had been try to follow their lesser counterparts since they had split off from the rest of the group, and it had taken them a few extra minutes to find them. By the time Harry and Blaise arrived, the two of them were locking the bathroom door behind the troll and high-fiving.

It had taken all of his self-control not to roll his eyes - even he knew how dim-witted trolls were supposed to be, and he'd only known he was a wizard for all of three months now.

When he was about to start leading Blaise back to the library, where he was sure that if they were quick, they at least wouldn't get into too much trouble, before a high-pitched scream stopped them in their tracks, and he fought the urge to groan, as Blaise dragged him back into certain danger.

They stopped at the doorway to the bathroom, and took a quick survey of the room. Hermione Granger was edging her way around the room to Alexander, who was to their right, while at the far end of the room, Weasley was chucking pieces of wood at the beast, while Alexander was doing the same.

Are they really…

They are. They really are…

Damn fools…

He was just about to say something when Blaise darted past him, grabbing some debris of his own and helping out the two of them, missing his friends gaping expression at his actions.

Is he a Slytherin or a Gryffindor?

He's about to be dead.

The troll, angered by the appearance of another problem roared in anger, startling the three would-be attackers, while Hermione whimpered, and Harry fought back to the slap himself in the face, even as he reaffirmed his grip on the wand into his hand.

They might want to tackle this like a bunch of foolish muggles.

But you are a wizard Harry Potter, now do something.

The monster brought its club down towards Ron's position, but it was slow, and he used those brief moments to dart between the troll's legs, getting to where Alex had been stood.

Seeing an opportunity, Alex ran forward and did something that was both, very brave and very stupid - he leapt onto the creature's back, clambering up it as it failed to notice him, or even feel him through its massively thick skin, before he jammed his wand up its nose.

Leaving Alex completely defenceless.

Not, Harry admitted, that he knew any spells that would actually be able to help him anyway.

The troll let another roar of anger, as it dragged its club up off of the floor, before turning to face the quartet with its club in hand, and raising it above its head, determined to end them all.

Now's our chance!

Go!

Harry stepped forward, wand in hand, shoving Ron out of his way, and into Alex, and as the club reached its apex, he cast the spell he'd mastered weeks ago.

"Wingardium Leviosa"

There was a faint wisp in the air before his knees buckled, struggling as he exerted more magic than he had ever before, never having lifted anything close to that heavy, and failing to notice the looks of surprise the others were giving him as he lifted the club even higher, all the way to the top of the room.

A giant fist came swinging down, only for the stupid animal to realise its weapon was missing, it looked all around it while he held his spell, until it finally looked up.

"Finite"

He whispered the word as he slammed his hand down.

And the club followed.

Trolls were stupid beasts, devoid of standard intelligence and highly resistant to magic, but like most creatures, they folded when struck with enough blunt force.

Like the force from their own clubs, for example.

The club smashed into its owner's skull with a sickening crack and for a moment the troll swayed on the spot, wobbly on its legs before it fell forwards, towards the five of them, who had to scramble back so that it landed in front of them, and not on top of them, destroying the bathroom floor.

"Is it…", Hermione was the first of the five to regain her voice, "is it dead?"

"Well", Alex began as he stepped towards it, but Harry's hand on his robes pulled him back.

"No", the second Potter answered her, not taking his eyes off of it, "it's just been knocked out"

Any further conversation was cut off by the thunder of feet running down the corridor, as Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick and Quirrell flew into the bathroom, only to pause at the sight of five First Years standing over a defeated Mountain Troll.

Snape and Quirrell immediately moved to inspect the troll, while McGonagall and Flitwick made their way over to them. Alex's hopes of an award from the school and a hundred points for Gryffindor were dashed completely when he got a look at Professor McGonagall's face - she had never looked so angry before, not even when she caught them out of bounds at midnight.

"What in the blazes in going on here?"

She loomed over them, an ice cold fury lacing her voice, "You could have been killed? All of you! What possessed you-"

"Please, Professor McGonagall - they were looking for me"

Hermione's tiny voice crept up from behind them, as she meekly stepped forward to the astonishment of the others, "Why… Miss Granger…"

"I went looking for the troll, I've read all about them and thought I could handle it, but I was wrong. If they hadn't shown up when they had, then I'd probably", she choked up, "I'd probably be dead"

All of them were now gaping openly, being foolish was one thing, but Hermione Granger outright lying to a teacher?

Unthinkable.

From his place at the back, Professor Snape tried to lock eyes with the members of his own House, Zabini was focused on the ground in front of him, but Potter was looking right at him.

He caught a glimpse of Zabini dragging Potter off to follow the two Gryffindor boys towards the girls' bathroom, before he rushed into the fray while Potter hung back, assessing the situation and moving when the time was right.

His eyes flicked towards the troll's club as he caught a small glimpse of it being lifted. He would've imagined that only a third year or above would've been capable of that feat, and yet the memories didn't lie, the boy had not only lifted it, but he'd managed to raise it too.

Severus could honestly say he was impressed.

Before he could see anything else, he felt a sharp sting behind his eyelids and then the images were gone, replaced with the face of a frowning boy from his own House looking up at him.

"-ten points from each of your houses for all of you", the Transfiguration Mistress stopped to take a deep breath, "and you will each have to serve a detention with your Head of House. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this", she took another breath to calm herself, "now get back to your dormitories. All of you"

They nodded their heads in acceptance, and turned to leave.

Harry managed two steps before his legs gave out from under him. Blaise barely had time to try and catch him before he hit the floor, the Professors were over him in seconds, as Snape helped pull him back to his feet, looking much paler than he had a few moments ago.

"I don't feel so good", Harry muttered, as he swayed on his feet even with the assistance of his teacher and best friend, "and everything looks yellow. Is everything supposed to be yellow? Or is that just me?"

"I'm not surprised", the Potions Master scoffed, "I don't know of any other First Years that could've managed to levitate a fully-grown mountain troll's club, let alone raise it to the ceiling", he ignored the shocked faces of his colleagues, especially the Charms Master who was looking at the club in astonishment, "I daresay you've exhausted yourself magically"

"I'd say a trip to the Hospital Wing is in order", Professor Flitwick chimed in, his expression changing, making him look uncharacteristically serious, "wouldn't you agree Severus?"

"Indeed Filius", the grim-faced man pulled out his wand, and with a quick wave Harry found that he was floating slightly above the ground behind his Head of House, who took off without some much as a backwards glance.

Having ordered the young Blaise Zabini to join his housemates in their common room, Severus Snape levitated a barely-conscious Hadrian Potter up to the Hospital Wing, flicking the doors open with a wave of his wand, and calling for Poppy.

The Hogwarts Matron bustled out of her office, and immediately directed the two of them to a hospital bed, reaching them with her wand in hand, immediately setting about casting the various diagnostic charms she was aware of.

After a full minute of casting, she straightened up, looking relieved for the most part.

"What's the diagnosis Poppy?"

"Well, it's like you said Severus, he simply pushed himself too far earlier, far enough to reach his magical exhaustion. I've found no signs of damage to his core, other than it being extremely depleted - almost completely - so as long as he gets plenty of sleep tonight and has a large meal in the morning, he should be fine, though he will most likely oversleep tomorrow"

"The Headmaster has declared that tomorrow's lessons will be cancelled in light of tonight's events"

"Really? A three-day weekend then", she nodded approvingly, "he should be more than ready for class come Monday morning then, though", she turned her stern gaze onto her young charge, "he better not be caught casting any spells before he has properly rested"

"So", the young Slytherin spoke up for the first time, looking up at them from his place on the bed below them, his tone laced with his exhaustion, "that means that I can go now, right?"

The matron rolled her eyes, before summoning a small red vial into her hands, "While it wouldn't hurt to keep you overnight for observation, I suppose that there's no real need for it - you're not the first student to have done this while I was here - drink this Mister Potter", she summoned a small red vial into her hands, "and then you will be free to go"

He swallowed the small vial in one swift gulp, cringing at the aftertaste, but instantly felt more alert than he had a few seconds before, "What was that?"

"Pepper-Up Potion", was her swift response, "it was a small dose, so its effects should only last a good half hour or so, maybe a bit longer in your case, which is plenty of time for Professor Snape to escort you back to your dormitory and ensure that you get to sleep"

"Oh, okay then"

"But before you go then, I just have a few questions for you, if you don't mind"

Sensing that neither Professor Snape nor Madame Pomfrey was going to let him leave without answering, he nodded his consent as she summoned a clipboard into her hands.

"First things first then, how have you been eating Mister Potter?"

"Erm, good I guess? Blaise told me he thought I was eating a lot the other week, but I haven't really noticed. I do feel really hungry when I eat though"

"But you are eating enough to feel full, aren't you?

"Yes Madame Pomfrey"

"That's good, now, do you feel tired during the day?"

"No. I feel great, up until, well, now"

"Okay, I'll make a note of that", she said as she marked something down, "and lastly Mister Potter, have you gained any weight recently"

"Err, I think so, I'm not sure though", his eyes looked down, "is that be a problem?"

"No, no, in fact just the opposite", she looked up at him, "when you came in here on your first day I noted that you were slightly underweight, so you should be getting slightly better adjusted the more time you spend here", she frowned down at him, "that's time spent in the school by the way Mister Potter, I'd like to see you in the Hospital Wing as little as possible"

"You would deprive me of your lovely presence", he mock-pouted, "truly a shame"

From their place above them, Madame Pomfrey laughed as she helped him sit up, while Professor Snape looked faintly disgusted, even while he watched on carefully as the boy stood on his feet.

"Now, if you feel faint or dizzy at any point, I want you to come straight back here", she levelled him with another stern look, until he nodded, and she smiled again, "good. Severus would-"

"I will ensure that the boy makes it to his bed Poppy"

"Thank you Severus, now if you'll excuse me", the matron bade them a farewell as she retreated to her office, and both members of Slytherin House stood steadily on their feet.

"Come along Potter"

True to his word, Professor Snape escorted him straight down to the Slytherin rooms, opening the entrance and guiding him inside. Wordlessly, he led him past the curious older years that were milling about, and downstairs to the First Year common room.

Opening the door with a push of his hand, Professor Snape swept inside, ignoring the faces of all of his First Years, who had all apparently decided to wait for their missing member to return, their heads no doubt having been filled with tales of action and valour from Zabini.

"Harry-"

"Potter-"

"-are you-"

"-happened? Did you-"

"-Zabini actually-"

"Enough!"

Their Head of House silenced them with a word, "Potter, bed now", the young snake faltered for a moment, before trudging off to his room, walking tall despite the fact that he looked completely exhausted, as the Potions Master turned back to the rest of his house, "Mister Potter is under the orders of the school matron to rest. You will not wake him, not even tomorrow morning", he shot them a look that dared any of them to argue, and was pleased when none of them did, "in case any of you have not already heard, the Headmaster has declared that there will be no lessons tomorrow, you are free to do as you please, I suggest you spend the time wisely. Classes will resume as normal on Monday morning"

"Did Potter really kill a troll Sir?"

"No Miss Davis", he exhaled as his students all looked slightly downcast, "he simply rendered the beast unconscious"

He ignored the excited gasps he left in his wake, as he left the room behind him, and made sure to spread the news of the free day to his prefects on his way up.

It didn't take long for the other First Years to start badgering Blaise, and less time for him to start telling his tale, embellishing his story with fake wand movements and action pieces which Pansy was only too happy to help with, even enlisting Crabbe to act as the troll when they got to the bathroom.

His telling of Harry being able to lift the troll's club was met with shocked gasps, excited awes and disbelief from Malfoy, he only wished that his friend could've been there to see his rival's face for himself.

It would've made the ending to a good day that much sweeter.

To say that Friday was a strange day would be an understatement in Harry's opinion.

Since he had started at Hogwarts, he had grown used to people staring at him for being the twin brother, though thankfully they were non-identical, of the Boy-Who-Lived, for being the son of the auror James Potter, and his beautiful wife Lily, and even just for being the first born-Potter to be sorted into Slytherin in generations (possibly the first ever to be so - he wasn't sure).

But on Friday, people were staring at him for something he'd done.

Not Alex, not James, not Lily, and not even Dudley - something that he, Harry Potter, had done himself.

He'd slept in late, waking shortly before half past eleven, and he had immediately swapped his bed for the bathroom. There he went through the longest shower he'd ever had, in order to wake himself fully and in a futile attempt to manage his hair.

After eleven years, eve he didn't know why he even bothered trying.

It was quarter past eleven when he made his way upstairs, stepping out of the common room and almost walking straight into Professor Snape, who was apparently waiting for him, beckoning him along with a hand gesture.

He followed his teacher back to his office, stepping inside behind him, he found a breakfast feast waiting for him. Two of the desks had been laden with everything from cereal and buttered toast, to the sausage, bacon and eggs that helped make up a Full-English.

"Eat up Potter", he instructed, "and then you will be free to go. I have a staff meeting to attend to, simply make sure to close the door on your way out, and it will lock behind you"

And with that, he left, leaving the young snake to his meal.

A large bowl of cornflakes, four sausages, two boiled eggs, six rashers of bacon, eight rounds of toast, three full tomatoes, a slice of black pudding, a slice of garlic sausage, and a large side each, of the baked beans, mushrooms and scrambled eggs later, Harry finally felt full. He took a moment to feel amazed (and slightly sickened) at how much he had eaten, even if Madame Pomfrey had told him to expect it.

He couldn't remember a time in his life when he'd ever eaten that much before.

Satisfied with his meal, he left the office behind, and making sure that the door was closed, he made his way back to the common room, to see if he could find Blaise.

"Ah Severus", the Headmaster greeted him warmly, as he was the last to arrive in the staff room, which had been changed from its normal appearance of comfy chairs and small tables, to a single circular table, surrounded by chintz armchairs that the Headmaster had conjured up, "it's good to see you - tell us all, how is young Hadrian today"

"The boy is well, it seemed this morning, other than having an overly large appetite, which he is currently in the midst of satiating, he appeared unaffected by the events of last night"

"Excellent, that is most welcome news indeed", the elderly wizard beamed at them all, "now if we may get down to business-"

"The boy wasn't tired?"

Madame Pomfrey asked the question from her seat next to the fireplace, with a surprised look on her face.

"No. Other than waking up nearer to noon than seven o'clock, he seemed largely unaffected"

"Curious", she looked surprised at the nugget of information, "how curious indeed"

"Is there something you wish to say Poppy?"

"Oh no Headmaster, I was simply curious is all"

He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight, "Very well then, now before we get to the main points of this meeting, and as a result of last night's infraction, I wish to review the current security procedures we have in place, now-"

The meeting went on through the lunch hour, with a light lunch being served to them whilst their meeting continued. They had a comprehensive review of the school's defensive wards, which had apparently failed temporarily, at one of the Forbidden Forest's entry points, so Professor Dumbledore promised to check on it later that day, and Professors Quirrell and Snape volunteered their assistance, the former given his expertise with trolls, and the latter's unmentioned but extensive knowledge of the dark arts, which left the rest of the faculty feeling at ease over the matter.

After that was sorted and written up by Professor Vector, they moved onto the topic of that years' NEWT and OWL students, and discussed how their students studies were going, before they began to work their way down the years.

"-and the last set we have to talk about before we adjourn is of course, our newest batch of students. I don't think I need to remind you all that this year's batch of First Years has the children of several prominent members of our society included, and as such, their eyes are trained on the standards of learning at Hogwarts, as well as the general day-to-day goings on of the school. How are your students settling in Minerva?"

"All of mine seem to have adjusted well", Professor McGonagall, "I was worried about Miss Granger for a while, she appeared to have problems fitting in with the others, but I saw her earlier today with Messrs Potter and Weasley and she seemed to be in much better spirits than usual"

"That's wonderful news indeed, and how are their studies progressing?"

"Quite well, a few of them have now mastered their basic spells, and look to start on the next batch, though there is plenty of room for improvement with all of them, though in fact I think that my Miss Granger will end up being one of this year's top students"

"Excellent, excellent, and how is everything in your house Filius?"

"There were a few problems, some of them were missing their parents and siblings and so on, but they've since been shown the owlery and learned that they can go home for Christmas, which seems to have calmed any lingering fears any of them may have had"

"And their studies?"

"Much the same as Gryffindor House I would imagine, though I do believe my own students are slightly ahead of her lions in their studies. I would say that Miss Patil is among my brightest this year"

"Imagine that, a Ravenclaw student ahead in their studies", Professor Sprout said in a dry tone, causing a small laugh to ripple throughout the room, even their Head of House gave a small chuckle, "will wonders never cease?"

The Headmaster chuckled too, "Pomona, tell us, how goes everything Hufflepuff House?"

"Much the same as the others, I will admit that there were some tears for the first night in September, but my badgers rallied together to look after them", she looked up with a small smile, "they do me proud"

"Something I think the other houses could do well to learn from", the Headmaster added in a solemn tone, "but I digress, how has their time as students gone thus far?"

"A few of them are progressing nicely, in line with what we would expect from a First Year student, and while there are a few of them that are struggling, they have been seen asking the older students for assistance, and I believe that they will catch up in no time", she smiled gently, "once they get their first few spells down, the rest will come to them, I'm sure of it"

"As optimistic as always Pomona, it's one of the things we love most about you", Dumbledore smiles widely, turning to the last member of his staff with a House, who looks uncharacteristically neutral to the rest of them.

Normally, Minerva thought to herself, he looks, well, sour when we make him attend these meetings… honestly you'd think he'd be used to it by now.

"Severus, how are your little snakes? Have there been any issues?"

"No problems thus far Headmaster, though with having two half-bloods and a muggleborn in my First Year class I believe that it's only a matter of time before something comes to a head. For now it appears that having", he grit his teeth, "a Potter, sorted into Slytherin has kept Mister Malfoy occupied, he seems to be the ringleader for trouble amongst my own"

"Please Severus, if you would, continue to monitor the situation"

"Of course Headmaster", somehow managing to answer that in a way that was respectful, but also conveyed his message of, what else would I do?

"And their studies thus far?"

"All of my students are up to date on the curriculum, those that struggled initially have received the assistance required, though I remain wary for one or two of them, in fact one or two of them appear to be slightly advanced for the level they are at"

Filius scoffed, earning him everyone's attention, including the Headmaster's, with a twinkle in his eye, "Something you wish to add to Severus' description, Filius?"

"No Headmaster, I was simply amused by Severus' description of Mister Potter's ability to manoeuvre a three hundred and fifty pound troll club as 'slightly advanced' when I still have a few fourth year students that would struggle to accomplish such a feat"

The older wizard looked impressed for a moment, as did all of the staff members, before he chuckled, "I think we've veered off topic slightly, but that is indeed a most impressive feat, in fact for it, I'll award Slytherin House back the twenty points they lost last night-"

"Thank you Headmaster"

"-but if there are no further issues", he waited a moment, and when no one spoke he continued, "then I am afraid I must depart for I have a Wizengamot session to attend in little under an hour where I will no doubt be required to explain last night's events. I shall see you all at dinner this evening"

A few offered their farewells as the Headmaster slipped into the corridor, returning to his chambers while much lighter conversation broke out among the staff, as they used their time to catch up on the latest gossip.

Feeling that his time was being wasted, Snape stood up from the table, and with a sweep of his cloak, disappeared from the room.

One of the Fourth Years had told him where the rest of the First Years were, trying to brush him off, when he'd asked. Knowing where he had to go, Harry had made his way outside, to where the rest of the Slytherin First Years were all sat together on the shore of the Black Lake, and when she caught sight of him, Morag waved him over.

"Hi Harry"

"Hello Morag", he sat down in the space between her and Daphne, "that's a nice jar you all have", he said, as he nodded to the empty square jar that held a bright green flame, which simply burned, smokeless, in mid-air, making the immediate area around it much warmer than the early Autumn weather would normally allow.

"One of the fourth years made it for us", Tracy supplied.

"Really?" His curiosity was peaked, "What was the spell they used?"

"Why?" She teased, "Are you going to master that now that you can lift a mountain troll's club like it was nothing?"

"Nothing? Nothing?" His eyebrows shot up towards his untameable hairline, "Believe me, it wasn't nothing - it was bloody heavy. I was exhausted after I'd done it"

"We know", her eyes flicked towards Blaise, "Professor Snape told us all what happened this morning - he didn't want rumours about you spreading into the house, but Blaise told us most of it last night"

Draco scoffed from his place leant against the tree, "There's no way you lifted it", he turned to look at his bespectacled house rival, "you're not powerful enough"

Looking smug, Harry leant back slightly, until he was using the ground to support himself, and tucked one hand behind the back of his head, "Apparently I am"

Theo snickered on his right, hiding his face behind his Defence textbook, while Draco huffed, turning away from Harry and shooting a glare at the other boy, which went unnoticed, as he looked off towards the lake.

Despite what had happened last night, including exhausting himself to help save a bunch of idiots, it seemed that things in Slytherin House had remained unchanged.

And that was just the way Harry liked it.

Chapter Text

'… When you decided not to be afraid, you can find friends in super unexpected places'

-Carol Danvers / Ms Marvel

Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Power

Part Thirteen

Harry Potter & the Whispers of Desire

Chapter Thirteen: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin

After the mess that was Halloween, Alex, Ron and Hermione somehow found that they had become inseparable. Alex and Ron had been friends for years - for as long as they both could remember - their parents had developed a friendship during the war, similar to the one which had grown between their two sons, but Hermione was a new addition to that dynamic, and one which Alex found he actually enjoyed having around.

There were things in life that simply forced people to bond; and defeating a mountain troll after it attempted to kill you was certainly one of them.

Hermione didn't enjoy chess and exploding snap as much as Ron did, but she was a very smart witch, with a good heart and nice head on her shoulders - she always made sure that they had their homework done before they started playing their games and entertaining themselves in the evenings.

A fact he was sure his mother would love, if nothing else.

She stopped some their wilder ideas before they got too out of control, sometimes helped with the ones that didn't break the rules, and kept them on track in class, so much so that he had finally managed to transfigure all of his plastic buttons into metal ones, and Ron was nearly all the way there too.

And that was how the three of them came together and with the way the trim on their school robes would show when they huddled together, they were dubbed to be, 'The Golden Trio', by the older students.

But between facing the troll at Halloween and enjoying having a new friend around, Alex had forgotten one thing.

The first full weekend in November was always the start of the school's quidditch season, and the first game of the season was always the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match.

Wood had turned all of their practices during the last week into miniature boot-camp sessions, pushing them harder than he had all year, keeping them in the air until their muscles hurt and they wanted to give up completely, which only seemed to spur their fanatical captain on further, telling them that they'd be in great shape for the game come Saturday.

Nothing would deter him.

All that had served to do, was make Alex feel even more nervous than he was already - all week people had switched from telling him he'd be great, to telling him that they'd be running underneath him carrying a mattress.

A small part of him had expected Harry to walk into the Great Hall, declaring that he was the new Slytherin seeker, being determined to show him up on the pitch as well as in class, but to his great relief, Seamus told him that when Hannah Abbot, one of the Hufflepuff girls in their year, had asked him about playing quidditch during one of their classes, his response had been, "If I want to fly, I'll learn a spell to let me do it with", which had dispelled any lingering fears Alex may or may not have had over it.

It seemed that between them, Harry was the smarter one, but he was the much better flyer.

Harry wasn't good at everything it seemed.

And thank Merlin for that.

Saturday morning had arrived, and still feeling nervous as he rolled out of bed, he began by pulling on his under-gear, which he could put his flying robes on over in the changing room, before pulling on a thick cloak and waking Ron too.

When they were both dressed and ready, they made their way down to the common room, where Hermione was sat on the couch, waiting for them.

"Good morning Hermione"

"Good morning", she answered both of them at once, "ready for breakfast?"

"Yeah"

"Sure, I guess"

She shot Alex a reproachful look as she took in his slightly pale expression, "Come on Alex, you need to eat - you've got to keep your strength up"

"I'm not hungry"

"She's right mate", Ron piped in, "let's go have a bit of toast or something"

"'Kay", he swallowed as he was led to the Great Hall for breakfast, sliding in near the rest of the quidditch team, who were all dressed similarly to him, while Oliver, who was already wearing his full uniform, was looking over at him with a face full of concern.

"You alright there Alex?"

He shrugged, and the team's captain and keeper offered him an understanding smile, "You know, I can still remember my first game like it was yesterday"

Alex perked up slightly, Oliver's idea seemingly working as the seeker began absently chewing on a piece of toast, and the rest of the team smiled, before turning to look at their captain in curiosity, "What happened?"

"Let's see, I was about as nervous as you could get, I'd been training hard all year, Charlie Weasley was the captain at the time", the twins gave a mock cheer, "and then at breakfast that morning, he told me I was the best keeper Hogwarts had seen in years-"

"He was right", the team chimed in.

Wood grinned, "Thanks guys, anyway despite that, I nearly threw up on my way to the pitch - twice - and then…"

"What?"

"We went out onto the pitch, lined up, took off, then I took my place in front of the hoops, and then I took a bludger to the head two minutes in and woke up in the Hospital Wing a week later"

He smiled as the team roared with laughter at their captain's expense, but it had the effect Wood wanted, as Alex continued to eat and relax with his team, before he had to go onto the pitch and fly.

He knew that Alex was going to be used to being in the spotlight, he was the Boy-Who-Lived after all, and with that came a but being the new seeker, playing his first quidditch game in front of the entire school was a different matter entirely, and he had been visibly terrified of the idea, but, he had to say that the boy wasn't in the house of the brave for nothing.

They all ate together as a team, joined by Ron and Hermione, who wouldn't leave Alex, and Lee Jordan, the twin's best friend who would also be doing the commentary for the game. It was an enjoyable companionship, formed through weeks of training and trust, until the spell was broken by the arrival of the Slytherin students.

Slytherin students always arrived in groups, never less than three at a time, in some sort of strange show of solidarity, but on quidditch days, they always arrived as a House.

Led by Marcus Flint, the captain and lead chaser of the Slytherin quidditch team, every member of Slytherin House walked into the Great Hall at the same time. The first seven members were the quidditch players, already dressed in their bright emerald and white robes, before the rest of the house followed suit, already wearing their cloaks and striped emerald and silver scarves.

It took him a moment to pick him out, but Alex eventually found his brother sat near the end of the table with other First Years. Moving as one, every member of the House sat down, tucking into breakfast as a single unit.

Watching all of them do everything at the same time was quite strange, and it freaked Alex out, especially when he saw the grins the quidditch team was sending him and their beaters, Derrick and Bole, took a moment to offer him a wave. He took a breath, shuddering slightly, and their grins grew wider before Wood moved to sit opposite him, directly in their line of sight and shielding him from view.

"Hey", he said, and Alex looked up at his face, "ignore them. We'll show them who the best House is, when we get on the quidditch pitch"

Alex smiled back as he swallowed down some of his nerves, "Yeah, we will"

They all finished breakfast in a hurry, before they made their way down to the quidditch pitch as a team of seven, in a show of solidarity of their own.

They entered the Gryffindor changing room, slipping off their outer cloaks, and replacing them with their brand new gold-trimmed crimson robes. The others set about getting changed, and he took a moment to simply stare at the jersey that hung on the wall, absently tracing the golden name and number on the back.

POTTER

7

Lucky number seven, given to the seekers because they needed the most luck on the pitch - they were the players most-targeted by the opposing team's beaters, he was just lucky because the best beaters in Hogwarts were the Weasley twins, and it was their job to protect him today.

He'd seen the robe his father had worn from his time, the same robe he'd once worn to win the quidditch cup five times in his seven years at Hogwarts, and he now had it framed, signed by all of his old teammates, hung up in what he and Mum used as their home office. The font on the back was a little different in their basic design, but other than that, they were identical, with the exception of the number two that his father wore. Number two was for the team's lead chaser - the same number that Angelina was wearing today.

Oliver, as the keeper, wore number one, Angelina had two, followed by Alicia and Katie at three and four. He wasn't sure which twin wore five and which one wore six, seeing as they both just said 'Weasley', though he wouldn't put it past them to just constantly change it around for fun, and the number seven jersey was his.

He felt a hand land on his shoulder, breaking him out of his reverie and he looked up to see Oliver smiling at him, "Go on then Potter", he nodded towards the robe, "put it on".

Alex grinned as he pulled the smooth material over his shoulders, putting his arms through the sleeves, letting the rest of it fall down his back, stopping just over his knees.

He couldn't lie to himself, despite how nervous he was, he felt very cool.

He shouldered his new broomstick, the Nimbus 2000 his father had sent him once he had been told that Alex had made his school's House team as a First Year, replacing his old Cleansweep Four as they were letting him have his own broomstick as an exception to the school's, 'First Years are not allowed their own broomsticks' rule.

There had been a small letter attached to it, also from his father, who had offered his congratulations on making the team, but also told him not to brag too much about it, as his mother wasn't happy with the idea of him playing quidditch while he was still only eleven years old.

Unlike their other letters to him, this one hadn't mentioned Harry even once in passing, and while Alex was glad that they were completely focused on what he had done himself, he still wondered what they thought about it all.

Was Dad wondering why Harry wasn't on his school team too? Was Mum still trying to talk Professor Dumbledore into arranging a meeting for the four of them like she'd said she would?

He knew that out there, somewhere in the stands, was his brother, ready to watch the match with the rest of his House. Harry was no doubt wearing the signature green and silver scarves that Slytherins wore on match days, but he hoped that somewhere inside of him, even if it was very deep down inside, that Harry wanted for him to win, that he wanted to see his brother be successful in his first game.

It didn't matter what his parents were worrying about, he decided, it didn't matter what Harry was thinking, he added - not at the moment anyway - going onto a quidditch pitch without being ready to play was always a recipe for disaster, watching countless matches had shown him that, and Alex had a feeling that today, he was going to need all the help he could get.

After they had flown onto the pitch, greeted by a thunderous applause that had Alex smiling once more while they were announced by Lee Jordan; Oliver and Marcus Flint met in the centre of the pitch, attempting to crush each other's' extremities under the guise of shaking hands, while they were under the watchful eye of Madam Hooch, who would also be serving as the referee for the game.

The bludgers were released first, one of them nearly knocking Alex off of his broom as it barrelled its way past him, the other almost doing the same to Terrence Higgs, his emerald-clad counterpart. Seconds later, the golden snitch was released, his eyes tracking it for a brief moment before it disappeared, keeping him occupied while Oliver and Miles Bletchley, the Slytherin keeper, retreated to their goalposts, and then, checking once more to make sure everyone was ready, Madam Hooch threw the quaffle into the air with both hands and the chasers dived forwards.

"AND THEY'RE OFF!"

Lee Jordan's voiced filled the air from his usual place at the commentator's podium, "Johnson immediately takes possession for Gryffindor, passes it to Spinnet, back to Johnson, over to Be- NO! It's an interception by Pucey and Slytherin takes possession of the quaffle for the first time this game - he dodges Bell, he dodges Spinnet, but he's blocked by Johnson and one of the Weasley twins knocks the quaffle out of his hands - Oh no! It's caught by Flint, the defence has dropped and he's heading straight for goal and there's no one in his way, he shoots - excellent save there by Wood! Well done good sir - he immediately passes it off to Bell, and she's up the pitch unchallenged-"

Alex listened to the Lee's commentary with one ear, letting the minutes and the game go by as he used everything else he had to search for the snitch from his place high above the game. This was the strategy Wood had come up with for him, they all knew that Slytherin would love to take him out of the game as soon as they could manage, putting the odds of victory firmly in their favour.

He had already thought he'd seen the snitch once, but the flash of gold had come from Percy Weasley's wristwatch - why he had decided to wear gold on a quidditch day baffled Alex - didn't he know how important it was that Gryffindor caught the snitch?

-sion - WAIT! Is that the snitch!?"

Alex had seen it moments before Lee Jordan had called it out, and was already diving towards were it hovered near the Hufflepuff stand. He tuned out everything else, trying to ignore Higgs, who was right behind him, as he focused solely on the snitch in front of him, there was no way Higgs could catch him-

WHAM!

From out of nowhere, Marcus Flint appeared right in front of him, grinning as Alex collided with him in mid-air.

Flint was bigger than he was, and after spinning slightly, the Slytherin chaser was able to regain control of his undamaged broom, while Alex span madly, slamming his shoulder into the wooden stand, before finally manging to regain control.

"-lying, dirty cheating bas-"

"Jordan!"

"-I mean after that open and revolting-"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry Professor McGonagall", the dark skinned commentator muttered, not sounding particularly sorry as he said it, sweeping some of his hair out of his face, "and Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor seeker, which I suppose could happen to anyone, anyway… that's a penalty to Gryffinor"

From their place in the stands, where they had been joined by Hagrid, the Gryffindor First Years were calling for Flint to be removed from the game.

"Send him off Ref! Red Card!"

"This isn't football Dean", Hermione reminded him, "people don't get sent off"

"Yeah", Ron added, before confusedly adding, "what's a red card?"

While Hermione was trying to explain the basic rules of football to Ron, the Slytherin First Years were having a similar discussion in their own section of the stands.

"That was a dirty move", Daphne muttered, Tracey sat beside her nodded, while Draco scoffed.

"So?"

"If we can't beat Gryffindor without cheating, what does that say about the quality of our own players? They'll all just think that they're better than us anyway, regardless of if they lose the game"

"Oh who cares", Pansy's shrill voice added to the mix, "Slytherin wins, Gryffindor doesn't and that's all that matters"

Crabbe and Goyle nodded as Millicent and Blaise joined the argument, Tracey listened with one ear, before she eventually turned to a silent Harry, who had been watching the match with great interest so far, given that it was the first time he'd ever been to a game in his life, "What are you thinking Harry?"

Absently, his fingers drummed the wooden beam in front of him as he looked up into sky, "What do I think?" He reached over the arguing snakes and took the binoculars Goyle had brought out of his hands, ignoring his complaint as he used them to get a clearer view, "I think that something bad's happening to Alexander's broom"

While two sets of First Years argued over the rules of the game, the quaffle had been passed on to Angelina, who quickly feinted left, tricking Bletchley into diving, before the quaffle sailed cleanly into the right hoop.

"Ten points to Gryffindor!"

After Angelina scored, Alex had done some loops to let off some steam at not being involved with the game before he went back to resuming his search for the snitch as the game continued. He was absently manoeuvring over the pitch when he felt his broom buck beneath him, twitching and jerking him about as he floated higher and higher above the stadium, until he could just make the people out as small shapes below him.

And then the broom lurched beneath him.

"What's going on up there?"

Hermione's question was met with the confused stares of the others, before they followed her line of sight to where Hermione was looking up at Alex, who was moving about madly on his broom.

"Looks like he's lost control of 'is broom", Hagrid muttered, "but he can't 'ave"

Word had spread like wildfire at Hermione's question, and suddenly everyone was staring up at the boy in the air, being jerked around by his broomstick, gasping in unison as the Nimbus 2000 gave a particularly violent lurch, sending Alex almost flying off of it.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered, but Hagrid shook his massive head.

"Can't 'ave, it would take really powerful dark magic to do summat' like tha'"

Whipping out her binoculars, Hermione scanned through the crowd, before aiming it at the teacher's stand, where one of the professors was looking directly at Alex, refusing to blink as he chanted, hissing at Ron as she turned around, "It's Snape"

"Wha'?"

His confused face looked at her and she thrust the binoculars into his hand, "Snape's jinxing the broom"

He quickly aimed his sight at the teacher's stand, only to come to look at the same sight that Hermione had seen, "We need to do something", he hissed back, making sure that the others couldn't overhear them, as they looked up worriedly at Alex, who was now hanging one-handed from his broom.

"Cover for me", Hermione whispered, before she disappeared into the stands.

With everyone focused on Alex in the air, Hermione was free to move under the stands without being stopped, moving through the rest of the Gryffindor area, before she entered the area below of the teacher's stands.

Not hesitating for a moment, she whipped her wand out as she moved between the different lines of seating, until she found a set of solid black robes that belonged to their Potions Master. With a small wave, and a tap to the edge of his robes, she muttered, "Lacarnum Inflamarae", and watched as a small jet of blue fire burst forth, and set his robes alight.

It took a few moments for someone to notice, but when they did, a small panic erupted, and satisfied that the jinx on the broom would be broken, she ran back to her seat in the Gryffindor stand, where hopefully it wouldn't be noticed that she'd gone missing.

She got back just in time to see Alex throw his leg back over the broom, taking control of it back, and pulling himself back into the match. She had just enough time to join the others in cheering, before Alex was diving towards the ground, chasing a glint of gold.

He was feet away when Higgs slammed into his side, the other seeker fighting him for the prize. Alex wasn't even sure what the score was, but Oliver had told him to get the snitch, and he was damn well going to get it.

Alex had the faster broom and weighed less than Higgs did, but Higgs had experience, and he wasn't afraid to try and knock him off his broom, using his superior weight and strength to do it.

The snitch dived sharply and the two of them followed, moving straight down towards the ground. Higgs kept with him for a moment, before pulling out of the dive while Alex kept going, following the snitch towards the grass that was hurtling closer and closer.

Holding his breath, he pulled up at the very last second, toes skimming the ground as he pushed the Nimbus to its limit.

Until his foot snagged the floor.

He lost control, flying through the air without the aid of a broomstick, hitting the ground, rolling through until he landed on all fours. Shaking he climbed back to his feet, until he was standing on wobbly legs, with his hands clapped to his stomach.

"'E looks like 'e's gonna be sick"

Hagrid's observation was met with Alex retching, before he spat out the small golden ball he'd been focused on catching, raising it high above him.

"I've got the snitch", he muttered to himself, before he yelled out as he waved the small golden ball, as the rest of his team descended on him. Oliver got their first, barrelling into him with a hug, lifting the younger boy from the ground as he cheered.

Alex could only grin as Fred and George clapped him on the back, and each of the three girls gave him kisses on the cheek, leaving him red in the face with blushing cheeks, he was lifted into the air by the Weasley twins.

"PARTY IN THE COMMON ROOM!"

"He didn't catch it - he nearly swallowed it!"

It was nearly nine o'clock when Harry returned to the common room from the library, from where he had been since the match had ended, trying to look for the information he was after, and his bad mood at being unable to find the answers he wanted was made worse by having to hear Flint's constant complaining over the match.

It was his seeker that pulled out of the dive, he should just go take out his frustration on Higgs. There is no rule against catching the snitch in your mouth - Alexander won fair and square.

Why exactly do I care?

Shaking his head, he slid into the main common room's last unoccupied chair by the fire, pulling out the duelling book Professor Snape had given him, and picking up from where he had left off.

Seeing him sat there, Lucan slid over from the other side of the room, perching himself onto the arm of the chair, looking down at the younger boy.

"What you got there Harry?"

"Just some prep work Professor Snape gave me for later this year. He has expectations, which I expect to exceed"

Seeing the title of the book, his curiosity was peaked, remembering his passion for magic in the library, but he settled for clapping him on the shoulder, as the common room was now mostly empty, "Alright then, have fun I guess, just remember to not stay up too late"

"I won't", he promised, before resuming his reading.

Alexander might be a quidditch star now, but Harry had plans for other games, other tournaments.

And he had plans to win.

Once things had died down, and their impromptu mid-afternoon party, which based on the way all of the older students were relaxing, they assumed was a common occurrence, the Golden Trio made their way down towards Hagrid's Hut, where they had been invited for afternoon tea.

Students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw smiled at him as he passed, waving brightly at him, a few of them congratulating him on the win.

They trudged through the grounds, until they reached the small, single room shack that made up Hagrid's home.

The giant of a man waved them inside, offering Alex his congratulations on the game, which he accepted, before he poured them three cups of tea, the cups of which were bigger than their hands.

At Hagrid's insistence, Alex regaled them with the tale of what he went through on the pitch, from being almost thrown off of his broom to his daring capture of the snitch, which turned their conversation to what they had seen.

"Snape!?" Alex's tone was one of complete shock, "It was Snape that was trying to kill me?"

"Yeah", Ron explained, "he was muttering at you, and wouldn't stop staring at your broom. Me and Hermione-"

"-Hermione and I-", the girl herself interjected.

"-saw him"

"That's nonsense", Hagrid cut in, "Snape's a professor. Why would he want to hurt Alex?"

They shared a look, before Alex took a breath and turned back to their giant friend, "Because Ron and I saw him on Halloween. We think he was trying to get past that three-headed dog and steal whatever it's guarding"

Hagrid's eyes widened in surprise, "How do you lot know about Fluffy?"

"Fluffy?" All three of them asked at once, before Ron asked, "That giant beast is called Fluffy?"

"Yeah well", Hagrid looked uncomfortable for a moment, "what else would'ya expect me to call a three-headed dog?"

"Bloody dangerous", Ron muttered under his breath, before looking Hagrid in the eye, "wait, you named him?"

"Well o' course I did, 'e's mine", he puffed out his massive chest in a great show of pride, "I bought 'im off a Greek chap last year, been raisin' 'im ever since. Then I lent him to Professor Dumbledore to guard the-"

"Yes?" Alex queried, the trio leaning forwards in anticipation.

"Now don't ask me no more questions", Hagrid looked at them with a frown, making the normally affable giant look slightly terrifying in that moment, "whatever's bein' kept up there is between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel"

He nodded to himself, before the skin behind his beard paled slightly as he realised what he had just revealed, looking slightly furious while the trio of First Years looked up at him with small, innocent smiles and he huffed, "I shouldn't'a said that"

Sensing that the space was empty, he stepped up to the lone figure, which blinked several times, before it bowed in greeting - an action which he returned.

" Greetingsss Ancient One"

" Greetingsss Youngling… I have acquired the information you requesssted"

" Oh, you have ssseen it then?"

" Not only have I ssseen it young one, but we have been tracking it, and know who hasss it with them. Onccce you are ready, it will be yoursss to ussse asss you sssee fit"

" Asssuming that there isss nothing there to protect it"

" There isss a passssssword Young One, but we will work to dissscover the wordsss to it before then"

" Then I can sssay that you have done me a great ssservice One Mossst Ancient"

He received what he thought to be a smile in response, "Your gratitude isss noticcced Youngling but I am here to ssserve those that have the blood of the mossst noble, and now, I am yoursss to command"

" Then I asssk that you and the othersss continue to obssserve for now, we will wait until the time isss right, and then we will ssseize it for ourssselvesss"

" It will be asss you sssay Youngling. We will be ready for you when the time comesss"

Chapter Text

' If you automatically assume that you understand someone, chances are you won't'

-Unknown

Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Power

Part Fourteen

Harry Potter & the Whispers of Desire

Chapter Fourteen: A Lack of Understanding

Harry was more than capable of admitting that yes, Alexander's victory in the school's first quidditch match of the season had been the result of a completely legal quidditch manoeuvre - despite what Flint and the rest of his House thought about it - but that didn't mean he was prepared to put up with his brother-by-blood going around and being an insufferable little toerag about it all afterwards.

His confident swagger and general sense of arrogance had not only returned in the days since he had beaten Higgs to the snitch, but also seemed to have skyrocketed to new levels. He was often seen, and even more often heard, bragging about his 'awesome skills' at every available public opportunity, whenever he was surrounded by his throngs of admirers, each one of them hanging off his every word.

Looking at them just made Harry feel sick.

It wasn't that Alexander was holding their attention - it wasn't just that, at least - Alex was an extremely famous wizard and a British household name; he could understand that of their fascination, but what he couldn't understand was why people were also lowering themselves from their usual behaviour and freely acting like complete and utter fools around him.

I'm surrounded by idiots…

And if all that meant that he took an almost vindictive pleasure in watching the way Professor Snape docked points from the rest of Gryffindor that week in his Potions class, using it as a form of pseudo-punishment, well that was nobody's business but his own.

But once the game was over and done with, it soon became mid-November, which meant that the Christmas Holidays were quickly coming up, as were their first set of progress exams. Harry was relieved to hear that Hogwarts remained open during the holidays, so that students who couldn't return home, or just simply didn't want to, didn't have to. When the sign-up sheet had been passed down the breakfast table by Professor Snape one morning, Harry had been the very first person to sign up.

It was soon clear that he was an exception to the rules, as he found out that in the entirety of Slytherin House, the only other person who had signed up to stay with him was Morag.

"My mum's going out of the country on a business trip", she had told him, looking up at him shyly when he'd asked.

"Well then", he offered her his best smile, doing his best to try and look comforting, "we'll just have to spend it together, won't we?"

She smiled back.

He'd gotten a surprise at breakfast a few days later, when on the very last day of November, two postal owls had landed in front of him, a light brown one, knocking over his morning goblet of orange juice as it landed on the table, which he immediately had to scramble to save, while a sleek black one hovered for a moment, levelling the brown one with a human look of disdain that had left Harry feeling slightly impressed at its ability to convey human emotion, before it landed on the bench, choosing the empty spot next to him, and offered him the letter attached to its leg.

He offered it a few pieces of bacon as a gesture of thanks, before it left with a small 'hoot' in departure.

Harry then repeated his process with the light brown owl, before it too departed, and he had two letters, each one embossed on the back with a small wax seal.

Choosing to open the light brown one first, he sliced the seal open with his butter knife, and took a look at the solid black ink that greeted him.

Hello Harry,

I'm not sure where to start with this letter, but I'll keep it just like you are - short and sweet.

Your father and I would like to invite you to spend your Christmas holidays with us, at our family's ancestral home of Potter Moor.

I think that it would be nice if we all got to know each another a little better, especially since Alex's letters don't really mention you much at all, (but we have no doubt he just wants to keep you all to himself for now), and either way, we'd like to learn more about you, from you and in person.

You can write back to us at any time, just send us your letter back with one of the school owls if you don't have one of your own, or you could just ask Alex to borrow his - Hedwig is a really beautiful snowy owl, who I think would probably love to have the exercise.

We hope to see you in a few weeks.

Lots of love,

Mum and Dad

Clenching his jaw as he read more and more of the letter, he took a bite of his toast, not noticing that it had gone mostly lukewarm in his hand, chewing it mechanically, before he swallowed, ignoring the taste, as he turned his attention to Daphne, who was sat next to him that morning.

"If I was to receive an invitation of sorts", he started without a greeting and she rolled her eyes, like the others, she was becoming accustomed to his blunt phrasing and distinct lack of greetings when he wanted something, "and then burnt it without offering a response", both of her perfectly maintained eyebrows shot up in surprise as her eyes widened ever-so slightly, "would that be considered rude by normal wizarding standards?"

"Yes", she looked scandalised at the very thought of anyone doing even something remotely like that, "extremely so"

"Good", he replied, before scrunching the parchment up in his hand, until it was a small ball, and levitating it in front of him. A muttered, "Incendio", had the small ball lighting up in flames, causing those nearest to him to scoot back in surprise, before the fire burnt out and the parchment was gone.

Ignoring the looks he was receiving, especially from the blonde at his side, Harry smiled slightly in satisfaction, before using his butter knife to slice open the second letter.

For the attention of Mister H J Potter,
Son of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter,

The Lord Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, and his wife, the Lady Narcissa (née Black), of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy, do request the pleasure of your company at their home, Malfoy Manor, located in Salisbury, Wiltshire, on the evening of the Twenty-Fifth of December, in the Year of our Lord 1991, for this year's Yule Ball, taking place in support of Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

The evening's entertainment will involve music from a live band, dancing in the main ballroom, as well as a small theatre piece.

Various Hors d'oeuvres will be served throughout the evening, and light refreshments will be available for all.

Please note, that while those considered to be legal 'minors' are welcome to attend, they will not be permitted to consume the alcohol-based beverages available, regardless of parental and guardian consent.

The event starts at exactly four o'clock post-meridiem; and is expected to last until the early hours of the morning.

All proceeds generated by the event will be donated to the aforementioned hospital, in full.

Please R.S.V.P no later than midnight ending on the Ninth of December 1991.

Looking forward to hearing from you,

Lucius Malfoy IV
Lord of the Ancient & Noble House of Malfoy

He read the letter becoming more and more surprised with the more he read. He knew that on their first night, all the way back at the Welcoming Feast, Draco had told him that he'd made a good impression on his father, but that was one thing, this - an invitation to the Malfoy Family's Annual Charity Christmas Party - was another thing entirely.

"So, are you going?"

He jumped in his seat at Daphne's voice in his ear, to find the blonde girl leant over his shoulder, completely calm while she read through the letter he held in his hands, sparing him an amused look as he settled back down, before he folded over the letter, calmly tucking it into his pocket.

"Do you mind?"

"No, not really", she sat back in her seat, "if you didn't want an opinion on that one, then you probably wouldn't have asked me about the first one"

She has a point there.

I think…

"Well…"

"Well what?"

He clenched his jaw and she kept smiling at him, completely amused and enjoying trying to rile him up, testing his self-control, "What do you think?"

"About you going?"

"Yes"

"I think that's a terrible idea"

He actually felt surprised at that, and it showed on his face, "What? Why?"

"Well", she straightened up, "to put it quite frankly, you have zero social training for these kinds of situations", at his look she explained, "yes, you do a fine job of walking with us, and talking with us, better than some of us who were raised to act this way even", her glaze flicked over to where Crabbe and Goyle were sat stuffing their faces, and he nodded his understanding, "but there's more to it than just that. There's multiple centuries' worth of culture and history you just don't understand - yet", she amended at his sour look, "there are all sorts of customs you just don't know about, and while some people wouldn't mind, you would no doubt offend some people at these things if you didn't speak and move the way you're supposed to, and well", she gave him an unimpressed look, "it's a ball"

He was sure he was being an idiot, but he just had to ask, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do you own dress robes?" She frowned lightly, "Do you even know how to dance?"

She had him there, as he opened his mouth, before muttering a defeated, "No"

"Would you like my advice?" He thought about it for a moment, before nodding, and she started an explanation of her thoughts, "Before you can even think about going to one of these, you need to be fitted for dress robes, take enough dance lessons to fit in with high society, your manners are definitely adequate, but extra lessons definitely wouldn't hurt, and then you need to undergo learning about the social etiquette and customs of the wizarding world", as he opened his mouth to argue, she cut him off, "reading one of the Malfoy books is an excellent start, but there are several more that would be a great benefit to you", she ran her eyes over him in a manner that made him feel like he was part of the dinner menu, "would you like a list?"

With a promise from Daphne to provide him with a list of useful book titles by the end of the Christmas Break, she stayed behind after breakfast to help him pen his response to Malfoy Senior. Only once they were both happy with it did they head for the staircase, she left him on the fourth floor, heading to the library to start on a Transfiguration essay that he had already written, and bidding her goodbye, he continued up the staircase, past the seventh floor and straight up to the owlery.

Ignoring the dozens of student-owned and families' owls, he took a moment to stare at the bright white snowy owl that he now knew belonged to Alex - Hedwig as it was apparently called - it was, he had to admit, the most beautiful owl he had ever seen, before he moved past her, and made his way up the small staircase, ignoring the dozens of owl droppings and small rodent skeletons, all the way to the very top where the school barn owls were kept.

Selecting the best looking one of the batch, which wasn't really saying much as they all looked rather worn down, he attached the letter, complete with a Slytherin House wax seal, given that he didn't have a personal one, to one of the owl's feet. The owl hooted once in recognition, before stretching his wings, and heading up, out of one of the owlery's large windows, and then southward, in the direction that he presumed Malfoy Manor was located.

Harry honestly had no idea where in Britain, Wiltshire was.

Pleased with the outcome, though feeling slightly disappointed that he wouldn't be attending the ball, this year at least, he stood at the edge of one of the windows, watching the small brown shape flap it wings until he could no longer make out its outline against the early morning sky. He lingered for a moment, enjoying the feeling of the morning sun on his face and the crisp air in his nostrils, before making his way back down the stairs.

His hand reached for the door handle, before it was pushed from the other side, and he had to bring his hands up to block it, while whoever was on the other side shuffled in.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm so sor-", he saw who he had just hit with the door, "-ry"

Stepping back, Harry brushed his hands off, "It's fine, I'm fine, don't-", he looked up, swallowing, "Alexander"

His twin nodded in greeting, "Hadrian", he looked around the room, "sending a letter?"

"No", he responded, his voice laced with sarcasm, "I thought this would be a nice spot to practice my Herbology skills"

The Gryffindor wizard grimaced slightly, "I suppose that was a bit of a stupid question wasn't it? Anyone I know?"

"The Malfoy family actually, it was my response to their Yule Ball invitation"

"Ah", Alex took a deep breath, "Mum told me that she was inviting you over to the house for Christmas. Are you coming? I mean, I know that you don't really like me, it's just that…"

"It's just that what?"

"I'd like you to be there", he hesitated for a moment, before pushing on, "and I know Mum and Dad would like to meet you"

"Then they shouldn't have left me with those muggles when I was a boy", Harry's voice turned harsh and cold, spitting out the world 'muggles', as though it was the most disgusting thing he could think of, and Alex looked gobsmacked at the outburst of his normally, completely in-control twin, while Harry took a few deep breaths as his body shook, visibly determined to calm himself down, "and you will have to extend apologies on my behalf, as I have decided to remain at Hogwarts over the coming holiday break"

"Oh, okay then", Alex look slightly downcast, and Harry felt a pang of something as the other boy offered him a small smile, "I'll see you around Hadrian"

He nodded in farewell, stepping around his brother to reach the owlery door, pausing at the threshold, "And Alexander?"

"Yes Hadrian?"

"Congratulations on your win the other week, you, err… you flew very well"

And with that, Harry was gone, leaving his Gryffindor counterpart behind, gaping at his rapidly retreating form.

Unsure of exactly why he had said that, regardless of whether or not he thought it to be true, Harry headed back down the staircase, walking past the fourth floor, including the library where he had left Daphne earlier, after their impromptu letter-writing session, and headed back towards the ground floor.

He was still stumped on the question he'd had since Halloween, and there weren't many books in the library that mentioned it. He'd considered asking Professor Snape, but that would no doubt come with a price tag attached - a favour that he would owe the other man at a later date.

He was aware that he now owed Daphne a favour for her help that morning, but that would be easy enough to repay back, all she had to do was ask for his help with one of their homework assignments or something of that ilk, but he knew Professor Snape would be more demanding, and he just wasn't keen of the idea of owing two different people at the same time.

His thoughts turned to Professor Flitwick as he passed the second floor, but he had already tried talking to the Charms Master after class a few weeks ago, and while he had offered a little in the way of an answer, he had admitted that he didn't know much about the subject, and that all of the parts he did know were related to him personally. While he had tried to help him, he just hadn't wanted to disclose that kind of personal information to him, for which he knew he couldn't begrudge the diminutive professor.

His thoughts continued to wander, while his feet continued making their way down the stairs, reaching the landing for the first floor when he finally looked up, seeing the guiding sign for the Hospital Wing staring at him in bold bright red lettering.

The Hospital Wing!

The thought struck with the force of a bolt of lightning, much like the one that adorned his forehead, and he felt the urge to slap himself for being so slow on the uptake - when he actually had had the problem, where was it that Professor Flitwick insisted that Professor Snape take him to?

The Hospital Wing.

Feeling emboldened by his own discovery, he walked through the empty corridor, and pushed open the huge double doors that led to the school's treatment area. He stepped into the empty room, devoid of any students, which Harry supposed was a good thing.

It didn't take Madame Pomfrey long to appear, stepping out of her office as though summoned by his entrance, which again, he supposed, was a possibility.

"Mister Potter, what are you doing here?" Her eyes widened in alarm, "Have you been feeling unwell? Do you need a check-up? Perhaps a full-body-"

"No Madame Pomfrey, nothing like that", he shook his head softly, "I just wanted to talk to you, I was just wondering if I could ask you some questions about what happened to me at Halloween"

"Oh", she smiled down at him softly, "well of course you can Mister Potter, that's exactly what I'm here for after all. Please come, let's step into my office"

He followed her into the small office space set aside for her, where there were four walls, three of them lined with shelves, and the fourth held the door, as well as large windows, allowing her to see out into the room.

Two of the walls were lined with various books and scrolls, but the wall directly behind the small table Madam Pomfrey had set up to use as her desk, was piled high with potions, which were all labelled, though Harry couldn't read any of them from where he was sat. The far corner also housed a small staircase, which led to the extra patients' area, housed above them.

"Well then Mister Potter", she sat down on her desk chair, inviting him to sit opposite her with a wave of her hand, "I should start by telling you that, as with anytime you decide to come here, anything that is said in here is strictly confidential, and will only ever be known to you and me, now", she paused long enough to smile gently at him, "what is it exactly that you would you like to know?"

"I was wondering if you could tell me exactly what happened to me at Halloween. I tried asking Professor Flitwick, but he said he didn't know much, and the books in the library didn't tell me much either"

"Well they wouldn't", looking at his confused face, she elaborated further, "books centred on healing detail the various ways in which a body may become injured; this often includes detailed explanations on the various dark curses and objects that can be used to cause the injuries. It is because of this, that while they describe all of the good ways in which a body can be healed, most of the actually useful books are stored in the Restricted Section"

"Oh"

"'Oh' indeed, Mister Potter, however I can explain some of the basics of it to you. What do you know of our ability to measure magic? In fact, tell me, do you know why we start schooling at eleven years old and why, in the Wizarding World, we become adults at seventeen, instead of the former sixteen, or the muggles' current eighteen?"

"No, Madame Pomfrey, I don't"

"No, well not very many people ever bother to learn", she shook her head softly, "very well then, magic, as I'm sure you're well aware of, surrounds us all, it surrounds everything and anything that exists, and even the least gifted witches and wizards are able to manipulate the magic in their environment to achieve a desired, or undesired, result, but in order to do that, magic has to be able to flow through them in a great capacity. Are you with me so far?"

"Yes Madame Pomfrey"

"Good. Now, all magical beings have what we refer to as a magical core, the size of which varies from person to person. Now, this is not a physical thing within yourself, some extra space, but rather refers your body's own ability to process the magic surrounding it. At the time you are born, your core capacity is registered and noted down; anyone who scores less than two thousand Myrddins is declared to be a squib, if they are born to magical parents, or simply a muggle if they are not"

"What's a Myrddin?"

"That is a good question Mister Potter. Now, there are two major measurements here that you should be aware of - the first of which is the Myrddin. One Myrddin, is what we define to be one unit of magical power; these 'units' are what flow through us, 'filling' our magical cores if you will. To explain it in basic terms, it is the unit of measurement for the amount of magic a cell of your body can contain", seeing his eyes glaze over slightly, she decided to focus on her overall point, rather than trying to explain advanced medicine, "anyway, this is what allow us to cast our spells, use our potions and the maximum number of Myrddins we can hold in our own cores is what makes up our core size, and determines our Myrddin Count; the rate at which are able to allow our bodies to refill our stored magic is what makes up a Morgana, or it may also be called a Fay, and our Morgana Rate or Fay Rate is measured by how quickly one can replenish their Myrddin Count from depletion to maximum; as such, we give the Fay Rate as either a ratio, or a number against one minute. Do you understand me so far?"

"I think so"

"Okay then. Now on Halloween, by lifting that troll's club you expended more magic than your body ever had before, doing so caused a great stress on your body's magic reserves, nearly completely depleting your magical core, which in turn drained you physically. The reason I insisted that you rest, is so that while you were sleeping, your body was expending less energy, and therefore it could focus on assisting in the refill of your core, slightly speeding up the recovery process"

"Oh, okay then"

"Now, back to the idea of schooling. The reason we start at eleven, is that eleven years old is roughly the time that our cores start to fluctuate and grow, slowly expanding at a yearly rate of roughly two to one, which basically means that from ages eleven to seventeen, your core roughly doubles in size every year. Eventually it settles, and you become an adult magician. A naturally weaker witch or wizard will start off with a count of, let's say the minimum, so around two thousand Myrddins, at the end of their first year it will be around four thousand, at the end of their second year it will be eight thousand and so on and so forth, until they graduate, when their count will have been upped to around two hundred and fifty-six thousand, which is a generally low score for an adult, but not unacceptable. A much more naturally gifted witch or wizard for example, may start their schooling with a Myrddin Rating of, let's say a very strong five thousand, and therefore finish with a count of around six hundred and forty thousand, which is an extremely impressive number. Do you understand me?"

"Yes Madame Pomfrey", he sat there for a moment, nodding to himself under the bemused eye of the school's matron, before he opened his mouth again, "Madame Pomfrey, is it, that is I mean, could I…."

"Do you wish for me to test you?"

"Yes Madame Pomfrey", he said as he nodded, trying not to appear too eager, but something in her smile told him that he wasn't being too successful.

"Very well then" she stood up from her desk, searching her shelves behind her for two small vials, before plonking them down in front of him, "now, if we were doing this as a child, then we could just record it, however I'm told, and as you may be aware, as a child you were once declared a squib, which means that at one point you had a Myrddin count of less than two thousand, though be assured that you need more than that to earn a place here. Drinking that blue vial will fill your core back up to its maximum, though I will tell you that it is extremely addictive, and this better be the only time that you take it within the next year", she gave him a stern look as he she handed it to him, and with a second look, he was drank it, while she pulled a glossy black quill from her shelves, stabbing it into the palm of his hand, ignoring his slight gasp of pain, before healing the tiny cut with a wave of her wand and placing it over a blank sheet of parchment.

He swallowed the blue liquid, surprised by the sweet taste, and his face must've given something away, because she rolled her eyes at him, before handing him the small black vial.

"Now, in just a moment, I want you to drink that when you feel full, and this quill", she tapped the black one she had just put down on the desk, the tip blood red, "will record your Myrddin score and Fay rate"

It took a few moments, until he felt a contentedness spreading out from his stomach, and not wasting anytime, he popped the cork off of the black vial and swallowed it in one gulp, grimacing at its taste, much to the amusement of the school's healer.

"If a high number is a strong Myrddin score, then what makes a strong Fay rate?"

"Another excellent question Mister Potter. Your Fay rate is made up of two numbers, and it is generally always given in a ratio to one, such as ten to one, twenty to one, et cetera. The one stands for one minute, and the first number is the amount of Myrddins your core can replenish in that minute"

"So a rate of ten to one simply means that one will regain ten Myrddins every minute?"

"Exactly Mister Potter", she explained as the quill stopped scratching, underlining two things before settling down on the desk, and she picked up the parchment to look at it, "oh my…"

"What is it Madame Pomfrey? Is everything alright?"

"Yes Mister Potter, it's just…"

"What is it Madame Pomfrey?"

"You have a Fay rate of twenty to one, which is incredibly high for your age - the numbers I said were just for example. That is quite rare to see in someone so young"

"Oh"

"Oh indeed"

"And my, and my Myrddin count?"

"Mister Potter… your Myrddin… it's well… it's over nine thousand"

Ten minutes after he had left the Hospital Wing, the different numbers he'd been given were still rattling around his head, leaving him reeling as he walked past the students milling about the entry way and the Great Hall, walking through the giant doors that separated the castle from the grounds, and heading for where he had sat with his fellow First Years the other day. Apparently, some of them had been sitting there all year, and it had already become known as 'their' spot.

He settled his back against the tree, looking over the lake as the chilling breeze swept across him, but he was too stubborn to bother going to gather a thicker cloak, instead, he simply sat there, allowing his thoughts to mull over his mind.

A little less than five hundred minutes for me to be able to completely replenish my core… or simply a little over eight hours, when it should take me at least a day - especially with a core my size…

Wow… that's just impressive…

He didn't know how long he sat there for, but eventually the skin on his hands began to turn a pale blue colour, and his fingers began to shake, so he stood up, brushing off imaginary dust from his robes, before heading back into the castle.

A quick, "Tempus", check told him that it was almost time for lunch but not quite yet, so he decided to head back to his room first, where he could warm up slightly before it was time to eat.

Passing through the mostly empty Entrance Hall, he descended into the dungeons, walking the now-familiar route back to the wall the hid the Slytherin common room, pausing only to offer the password, "Fluxweed", before heading straight down the stairs and to the First Year common room.

He had barely stepped through the doors when Blaise bounded up to him, looking concerned, "Merlin Harry, where've you been?"

"Outside", he offered as a response, "I was thinking. Why?"

"Take a look in a mirror", his friend looked him up and down in concerned, "you've gone pale and, well, kinda blue", Blaise looked uncomfortable looking at him, "in certain places. What was so important that you had to go outside just to think about it?"

"I'm fine", was all he offered in response, ignoring Blaise's question and mouthing of 'okay', as they both took seats by the fire, and he immediately felt the effects of it warming him, tingling as the blood flow returned to his hands and nose, which he realised, using the mirror Blaise had provided him from a pocket inside of his robes, was now the same shade of pale blue as his hands.

The two of them sat together in a companionable silence, waiting until it was time for lunch, before they left the common room together, arriving at the Great Hall, and choosing seats next to Millicent and Morag, who were just finishing their meals.

While Blaise set about putting together a plate full of bitesize snacks, Harry poured himself a goblet of pumpkin juice, before doing the same for Blaise, who offered a muffled, "Thanks"

The girls lingered as they ate, the four of them discussing their chances of retaining the Quidditch Cup for the eighth consecutive year despite having already suffered a loss to Gryffindor.

"-Potter's obviously the best seeker-"

"-says who?"

"Alexander probably"

"But you're forgetting Ravenclaw's defence-"

"-and Hufflepuff's seeker-"

"-and they're playing each other next week-"

"-yeah, last game of the year-"

"-but the lions have the most well-rounded-"

"Fine, fine", Blaise threw his hands up in defeat, "our chances don't look good", he sent a betrayed, glance at Harry, who smirked, seeing as he hadn't agreed with him once so far, "but we still have a shot at winning the cup"

"Yes", Harry conceded, before smirking again, "and in the meantime, the broomsticks may learn to fly themselves, but I wouldn't put any money on it happening"

"Just you wait", he straightened up in his seat, "we'll win the cup, you'll all see - we'll win it"

"Uh huh, now if we decide that we all agree with him, will the kind gentleman in the silver and green robes agree to shut up and let me eat my midday meal in piece?"

Blaise smiled at him, "Why yes, the handsome gentleman will"

"Then we agree", he silenced the other two with a look, "now let me eat - I'm hungry"

"No, really?"

The three of them spoke at once, while Harry made a start on the extra-large bowl of soup he'd gathered, ignoring them giggling as the liquid mass of carrots began to make its way down his throat.

Christmas approached Hogwarts quickly, Hufflepuff beat Ravenclaw by a score of 310 to 270, and one morning in December they all awoke to find the Black Lake completely frozen over, while the grounds were covered completely by a foot of snow and patches of solid ice.

Harry made a quick trip to the library, copying the spell pages for the bluebell fire and a handful of warming charms for use in different situations, dedicating some of his spare time to beginning to master them, while also finishing the book Professor Snape had lent him on duelling, leaving it behind on his desk after one of their Potions lessons.

Happy with the way he had progressed, now having a thorough understanding of what would be expected from him in a real duel, as well as having noted down several different useful tactics and duelling styles he wanted to learn more about later, he checked out a library book on some basic to intermediate level jinxes, though nothing too advanced just yet, as well as one on the spell swatting defence method that Percy and Lucan had mentioned to him weeks ago.

Writing three inches of his homework about it was one thing, actually being able to pull it off successfully was another entirely.

Armed with his books and a head full of theoretical knowledge, which he was feeling more than ready to use, all Harry needed was a place to practice.

His first venture into the Slytherin training rooms had been a particularly trying experience for him, but as with everything in Slytherin House, he had to admit that the set-up was almost completely flawless.

There was a single, full-size duelling platform running across the length of the room, (which Blaise had informed him was the standard international size), and on either side of it were two smaller ones, leaving four smaller platforms which could be used for practicing and when it came to practicing, there were two options available.

Option number one was to have an actual opponent to duel against, but Harry didn't have that option, especially as he wanted to keep his training a secret for as long as possible.

The second option was to use one of the several smaller rooms set off to the sides, which were simply made up of solid stone walls, ceiling and floors and a single door, which couldn't be opened from the outside after the room's occupants had locked it from the inside.

He chose one of the individual rooms, the only other occupant of which was the target dummy that came with it, and locked himself inside. Choosing his list of spells to learn was fairly easy - he spent one afternoon sat by the lake, a jar of colour-changing bluebell flames burning alongside him, keeping him warm while he enjoyed looking out over the snowy landscape and frozen lake - with Hagrid's Hut looking like something that would be used as a cake decoration when it was covered in snow, as he wrote out all of the jinxes he wanted to learn, sorting them by how useful he thought they would be, and how difficult they would be to cast.

His first spell was going to learn was 'Flipendo', which was also known as the knockback jinx.

It was an easy one, from nearly the very front of the spellbook, and was a jinx that was designed to knock his opponents back anywhere from twelve inches to three feet, depending on the strength of the caster, and he had a feeling that he would definitely be able to manage the full three feet once he had the spell mastered.

Making sure that there was room behind his training dummy, he made sure to have the right wand movement, which was a sharp forward snapping motion towards the target, he began.

"Flipendo!"

A bright orange orb of magic left the tip of his wand, careening down the length of the small room, before striking the dummy at the side of its shoulder, sending it spinning back by a good foot and a half before stopping when the effects of the jinx wore out, before moving back and resetting itself to its default position.

After over three hours of constant practice, it was almost time for dinner, and Harry had, to a certain degree of his understanding, already mastered the spell - there had been no mistakes made with his casting, pronunciation or power for at least the last half hour, probably for much longer, he admitted to himself, which meant that while his spell casting was fine, he still had one problem.

His aim was terrible.

Firing spells at a target that was a distance away, even if it wasn't too far away from him, was much more difficult than firing at a target that was sat on a desk directly in front of him.

Some of his spells had struck the very centre, pushing it all the way back, but some of his other attempts, such as his last one, had only managed to clip it, which ended up with a smaller pushback.

Some of his other spells had missed completely.

A quick "Tempus", told him that he would have to work on his aim later, seeing that it was time for their last meal of the day.

He ignored the stares of a few of the older members of their House as he exited the training room, while they wondered what use a First Year would have for it.

He returned to his bedroom, putting his notes away, promising himself that he would look for ways to improve his aim later, before taking a quick trip to the bathroom to freshen up.

It wouldn't do to not look his best in public.

As Christmas drew even closer and December came closer to an end, they were administered in-class tests to gauge their progress. Once they were out of the way, their lessons wound down in difficulty, with some of the Professors giving up on teaching completely, letting their students relax. Professor Flitwick was the most laid-back as he allowed his class to play games, not pushing anyone to learn with the exception of Harry, who had now mastered his control of 'Incendio', and was still pushing him to learn more charms, so they had started with 'Aguamenti'. It was the water conjuring charms, the direct opposite of 'Incendio', and it was apparently much more advanced than anything he had attempted before, so much so that Professor Flitwick had promised to award him an extra twenty points for his house if he managed to master it before the end of the Easter Break.

Transfiguration and Potions were the only two lessons that continued full-force until the twentieth of December, pushing their students learning forwards, with their final lessons being especially challenging; Potions in particular, as Professor Snape decided that the final Friday would be the ideal day to test what his students had learnt during their first term.

The Gryffindor students groaned, scowling at the Potions Master, while he went around the room, handing out his test papers, docking them five points for Weasley muttering how unfair it was for them to have a test, while their Slytherin counterparts were smart enough to stay silent on the matter.

It didn't hurt them that the Sixth Year prefects had told him he did it every Christmas, with every new batch of First Years.

Only Hermione seemed pleased, and that was only somewhat marginally, by the idea that her knowledge would be tested before she went home for the holidays.

In complete silence, half of all the school's First Years sat an impromptu test, which lasted right up until the lunch bell, Professor Snape allowing them to leave one at a time, only after he had collected their test papers, dismissing them row by row.

Starting with the green and silver side of the room.

Once all of his snakes had been dismissed, starting with Malfoy and ending with Harry, he moved on and began dismissing the Gryfffindor students, who were much more anxious to leave, starting with Sophie and Fay, he started at the back of his classroom, weaving his way to the front, where Alex was sat next to Neville.

Running his eyes over the two of them, he picked up Neville's paper first, scanning over it, before dismissing the boy with a curt jerk of his head. As the pudgy boy darted from the room in fear of the Potions Master, the man in question picked up Alexander's answer paper, reading though it much more slowly than he had anyone else's, drawing it out for what he could, in what was the very last class they would have that year.

Determined not to cost Gryffindor any more points in Potions than he already had that year, Alex settled for glaring at the hook-nosed professor, who simply continued to read with an infuriating smirk on his face.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he nodded his head, letting him leave the dungeon behind, happy that he wouldn't have to see the greasy git again until after Christmas. He wasted no time in escaping the room, slipping out into the corridor and rushing to catch up with Ron and Hermione.

He'd be able to see Hermione on the train tomorrow, they'd already agreed to share a compartment on the journey back, but Ron would be staying at Hogwarts for the holidays, as his parents were taking little Ginny to Romania, to visit his older brother Charlie, who was over there working with dragons.

Ron would no doubt want to spend his first Saturday morning without any lessons coming after the weekend, sleeping in as late as possible, even if he had promised Hermione that he would look for references to Nicholas Flamel in the school's massive library, while Alex would do the same in his family's private one, neither boy would be doing it on their first weekend off.

Hermione had spent the last week scouring through text after tome of information, determined to find something - anything - that would at least give them a lead on finding out just who Nicholas Flamel was, but so far, all they had was nothing.

But whoever he was, he had to be important. Of that, Alexander was sure.

Chapter Text

" The best way to forget all your troubles is to wear tight shoes"

-Unknown

Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Power

Part Fifteen

Harry Potter & the Whispers of Desire

Chapter Fifteen: Wizard's First Christmas

Early on Christmas morning, Harry woke to a gentle knocking on his door which served to pull him out of his light slumber. He'd never been a heavy sleeper; it was both, a bothersome and a helpful by-product of growing up with the Dursleys; but he couldn't remember anyone ever waking up before him in the months since he'd started at Hogwarts.

Feeling somewhat slightly startled at that little revelation, he drew himself from beneath the covers, slipping his glasses onto his face and his feet into his slippers, as he sat up on his bed. Missing the warmth of his duvet and wishing he had x-ray vision at that moment, he palmed his wand, crossing the small distance to his bedroom door and wrenching it open. On the other side of it, he was surprised to see Morag looking up at him, a bright smile on her face and her nightdress covered by a bright pink dressing gown.

"Merry Christmas", her voice was as quiet as ever, but on this particular morning it was filled with a layer of blatant excitement, as she seemed to be fighting the urge to rock about eagerly on the balls of her feet, no doubt ready to get started with their day.

"Merry Christmas", was his reply, as he rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses, wiping away the last vestiges of his slumber, before blearily deciding to ask, "Morag, what time is it?"

"Six o'clock", she responded in the same voice, before looking slightly downcast, "I know it's a little earlier than what we're used to - even you - it's just there's presents, and hot chocolate's been left out, and…"

"You just want to make the most out of the day", he finished for her, and she nodded, smiling in a way that showed her dimples, "alright then", he offered her a smile of his own, "shall we do presents now, or after we get dressed?"

They decided to do presents before they got dressed, as clothes were an acceptable gift to receive on Christmas morning, so the two of them moved to sit around the fire. Harry took his place in his usual chair, which was now known as 'Harry's spot' by all of the other First Years, while Morag sat with her legs curled up, on the small sofa opposite him.

When they had moved into the common area, he'd been surprised to actually find gifts that had his name on them.

He had presents!

He sucked in a breath sharply, which had Morag looking at him in surprise, but he ignored her in favour of sitting in his seat and trying to act as though he was used to getting Christmas presents.

Trying to act like a normal person would.

Deciding to start, he handed her the gift he'd ordered for her, which had been neatly wrapped in glossy black paper, and tied off with a silver bow. She opened it to find a brand-new eagle feather quill set, made from a bright white feathers, with solid silver tips, and a glossy black, self-refilling inkpot, the charm on which was supposed to last her for at least two years.

He'd bought each of the girls an eagle feather set - Morag's was bright white; Daphne's a dark, emerald green; Tracey's was a striped white and brown; Pansy's a sleek black; and Millicent's was grey, patterned with small white dots. Each of the quills had a solid silver writing nib, and each came with a different coloured inkpot.

He'd ordered them once he'd overheard Pansy and Daphne complaining that the sets the school provided was poor, and looked to see if he could get anything better, instead of having them bring more back with them at the end of the holidays. When he'd seen the high-quality sets that came with their own ink included, he'd jumped on it, ordering five of the six different sets, leaving the dull brown one behind, and wrapping them up.

He'd owled five of them out on the day the train left, so that they would be waiting for the girls when they arrived home.

He'd sent out two massive packages of different sweets out to Crabbe and Goyle, knowing that he couldn't think of anything else and that the two of them would appreciate the sweets better than anything else anyway. He'd given Theo a wand polishing set, because he was always rubbing at it with a spare rag, or with the edges of his robes, trying to remove his fingerprints and bits of dust from it.

Blaise had been sent an enchanted set of two mirrors, a brush and two combs, which would move about him and do his hair in the manner he described to it. The brushes and comb were made of a polished, solid mahogany wood, as was the mirror, but on the back was the ancient crest of House Zabini - he'd spent a full Saturday in the library searching through different genealogy books for it and failing to find out, until he remembered what Blaise had mentioned about being half-Italian. After making the switch from the English books to the Italian ones, it had only taken a matter of minutes to find it. He'd then made a copy of it, sending it off with his order, and when it was sent back to him, he thought they looked quite brilliant.

Draco had been by far the hardest person to buy for, knowing that, like the others, Draco had grown up a wizard, but it was made much more difficult by the fact that the Malfoys were one of the wealthiest families in the wizarding world; Draco was probably one of the few people in the world that could actually say they had everything they had ever wanted.

In the end, Harry had decided to get him a small personalised set of stationery. Included with it was a glossy black quill, one inkpot, a large notebook, a small notebook and a few spare rolls of parchment, all of which were embossed with the Malfoy family crest, and Draco's initials at the top. The quills and locks on the notebooks were also done in solid silver, though they were slightly smaller than that of the girls'.

Morag thanked him for her quill set, handing him his own gift, in a silver-wrapped box, decorated with little snowflakes. Carefully, he pried it open, pulling the box open, dropping the lid on the floor next to him, as he pulled out the new cloak it held within.

"Oh, wow", he muttered, as he ran his hands over it, the dark grey, not-quite black, scaly material rippled a dark blood red under his touch for a brief second, he pulled his hand back in shock as he turned to face Morag, "what's it made of?"

"It's made from ashwinder scales. That's a type of magical snake-"

"-which is born from unchecked magical fires; they lay their eggs a few moments after creation, before they disappear a few minutes later", he finished her sentence for her, recalling the information from his school textbook, before he looked back at her in slight amazement, "where did you get this?"

"Millie helped me find it actually. It's supposed to be from the both of us"

"Well thank you, and remind me to thank her too"

"I'm just glad you like it, we weren't sure-"

"It's perfect", he insisted, offering her a smile in thanks, "I love it"

The two of them sat in a companionable silence, simply enjoying each other's company as they opened their gifts. Harry wasn't sure what Morag had, but by the time he reached the end, as well as his new cloak from Millicent and Morag, Harry also had a matching set of ashwinder skin boots from Pansy, which made him sure that the girls had all planned their gifts together.

Tracey had gotten him a personalised chess set, which had dark mahogany and bright yew pieces, and was polished to perfection. It was absolutely beautiful in his opinion, and Morag grabbed a promise for a game with it after dinner.

Daphne had gotten him a two-part gift; the first was a book called 'An Introduction to Wizarding Britain by Thomas Darke', which he thumbed through, noting that it detailed bits and pieces about how the wizarding world worked that he hadn't learnt yet, and he mentally marked out several key passages he would have to read later.

The second was a gift certificate for dancing lessons with a Madame Bonace.

He snorted, drawing Morag's attention to him and away from the perfume she'd received from Pansy, long enough to read what he had been given.

She looked at it oddly, but shrugged a few moments later, correctly deducing that there was a hidden joke between the two of them that she didn't understand.

Blaise had gifted him a watch, one which he couldn't understand, as there were no numbers to read along the face, but instead there were images of stars moving about. The strap was made from black leather, Italian knowing Blaise, and the face appeared to be made of gold.

While it was beautiful to look at, he had no idea how to read it, and so gently replaced it in its box, to figure out another day.

Crabbe and Goyle had returned his gift of sweets with the same gift; he now had more chocolate frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and liquorice wands than he knew what to do with. He bit the head off of a frog as he moved them to the side, offering one to Morag, as he picked up Draco's box and Theo's book-shaped package.

Theo's gift was in fact a book, 'A History of Sport: Duelling', and while he was happy to have received it, it couldn't help but pale in comparison to what Draco had sent him.

Along with a note informing him that the gift was to be considered from the entire Malfoy Family, Harry opened the wrapped box to find the entire works of Libra Malfoy in first condition prints.

He was speechless.

He already had one of the fourteen books, but to be gifted all of them - in their first edition copy, no less - which was by far more valuable than later reprints, as though it was nothing?

Words failed him.

Delicately, he placed them back inside their box, before he could transport them to his shelves, afraid that if he were, for a moment, too rough, then they would crumble and disappear.

All that remained was a single parcel, with a label attached reading, 'From Mum and Dad'.

He stared at it while his friend sorted through some of her other gifts, staring at it as he attempted to decide what to do with it. It was decidedly book-shaped, and he did love books, but he felt torn. Eventually his mind settled on the only possibility that he could come up with in which he would feel completely satisfied and avoid temptation.

He left it unopened.

If Morag noticed, then she didn't say anything to him, preferring to focus on herself while he reached for the envelope which had been left with his pile of gifts, not hesitating on slicing it open to reveal the note inside.

To H J Potter of Slytherin House,

We have received a message through Her Majesty's Royal Mail postal service and passed it along. Please find enclosed your Christmas gift from your Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. We hope you enjoy your holidays.

The Hogwarts Team

He flipped over the envelope to find a fifty pence piece taped to the back.

"Who sends that as a gift?"

Morag was looking at him from the sofa, frowning at the small silver heptagon he held in his hands, which he flipped in the air, letting it fall and then snatching it as it drew level with his stomach, "It's this year's Christmas present from my aunt and uncle"

"What? Do you not…"

She trailed off, sounding unsure, but feeling reassured when he sent her a small smile, "It's not a great relationship"

"But you live with them", she protested, looking upset on his behalf.

"I've survived with them this long", absently he fondled his wand, gazing at it as he turned it over in his hands, "and now I guess I know why"

She smiled, moving to sit next to him on the couch and nudging him with her shoulder, "You're a wizard Harry, you belong here and don't you ever doubt that"

"I won't Morag"

"Promise?"

He chuckled under his breath, "I promise"

After they had finished unwrapping their gifts, they took the time to make sure that they were put away safely - Harry was particularly pleased by the way his new books looked on his bookshelf, particularly his new Libra Malfoy set, before they both decided it was best to get washed and dressed.

Not planning on venturing outside, despite what he knew would be fantastic-looking weather, he hung up his brand new ashwinder skin cloak, choosing to wear a pair of plain black trousers, a grey and black dragonhide belt with plain silver belt buckle, a crisp white shirt with the top button undone, and a black cotton jumper which had a stylised 'HP' - styled using a lightning bolt in the same shape as his scar shooting down from the bottom of the 'P' - roughly the size of his fist, stitched over the front of his left shoulder, and done in the same shade of vibrant green as his eyes.

With his wand holstered and attached to his wrist, he completed his outfit with his brand new ashwinder skin boots, and tried no to stare at his feet, for every few steps he took the pair would ripple a dark blood red, sometimes separately and sometimes in unison.

It was really just too cool not to look at.

When Morag appeared, clean fresh and wearing a Christmas-red dress, which was broken up with a white sash across the middle and fell down to her knees, he offered her his arm, which she took with a small giggle and the two of them made their way up to the Great Hall for breakfast, knowing that as it was Christmas Day, and that nearly everyone else was no longer in the castle, the two of them would have the room mostly to themselves.

He was proven correct when they arrived to find that the four large house tables and the staff table had been replaced with a single circular table in the centre of the room, holding just over a dozen seats, the only two occupants of which were the Headmaster himself, and a second professor which Harry didn't recognise.

"Ah good morning to you Hadrian, and to you too Morag", he gestured to the two seats in front of him and the second teacher, "and a very merry Christmas to you both!"

"Merry Christmas to you too, Headmaster"

"Merry Christmas Sir"

They took the seats offered to them, Harry made sure to get Morag's for her, remembering everything he had ever learnt and earning him a smile from both her and the Headmaster, before he slid into his seat next to her.

Professor Dumbledore gestured to the man sat next to him, who looked to be roughly the same age as Professor McGonagall, if not older. He had the same look in his silver-grey eyes that all teachers seemed to, smiling at them from behind his short white beard, though he had no hair on the top of his head, but what Harry noticed most was that he had four wooden limbs instead of flesh ones, "Have either of you had the pleasure of meeting Professor Kettleburn yet?"

"I'm afraid not"

"No Sir"

"I teach Care of Magical Creatures - one of your elective courses", Professor Kettleburn spoke up after they looked at him in confusion, his voice was slightly hoarse from a combination of overuse and exertion, "you won't start my class until your Third Year, should you choose to take it"

Harry perked up at that, looking decidedly excited to know that there were more classes that could be taken even as he filled up his plate, "Really, there are other classes? What are the other electives on offer?"

Professor Kettleburn, whose plate was empty stroked his beard softly using a wooden hand, as the other placed his cup of tea down, "Well there's Care of Magical Creatures obviously, and I believe that the rest of the standard Hogwarts offerings are Arithmancy, Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies and Divination", he shot a side-eyed look at the Headmaster, who simply nodded along with a soft smile on his face, "there are more options I believe, but you'd be asking the wrong man, I only really deal with my creatures", he finished with a small smile at them, before looking down at his wristwatch, "speaking of which, if you'll excuse me I'd like to get the hippogriffs fed and make sure all of my protective charms from last week are holding before it's time for lunch", rising to his feet, he nodded in farewell before he made his way out of the hall, his wooden feet clanking against the stone floor with every step he took.

"An excellent teacher Professor Kettleburn, who has at last count been placed on probation no less than two hundred and fifty-six times", the Headmaster smiled fondly at the thought, "now though, with regards to your potential extra-curricular classes, Professor Kettleburn was quite correct when he said that there were extra classes. We also offer Apparition with a Ministry tutor for sixth and seventh year students at cost, as well as a NEWT Level Alchemy course, which is taught by myself, should enough people obtain an 'Exceeds Expectations' in their OWL Level Potions and Arithmancy Examinations and if there is sufficient demand for the class"

"Sir", Harry piped up, somewhat hesitant to interrupt the Headmaster, "are there any more classes available to take as Third Year electives?"

Not bothered in the slightest at the interruption, the old man beamed widely, "Of course Hadrian, only where there is sufficient demand of course, but Hogwarts is proud to also offer courses in Enchanting, Ancient Studies, Magical Theory, Xylomancy, Music Studies, Muggle Music Studies, Art, Muggle Art and Ghoul Studies"

"Ancient Studies Sir?"

"Ghoul Studies?"

Their questions simply seemed to spur the Headmaster on, who waved at them to begin their breakfast while he launched into an explanation.

While the Headmaster explained the two optional subjects to Harry and Morag, who both began eating their breakfast in earnest, they were joined by the others who had remained at Hogwarts over the Christmas Break.

Professors Sprout and McGonagall joined them not long after Professor Kettleburn left and weren't hesitant about contributing their own notes to the Headmaster's explanations on the two subjects that had caught their attention, as well as expanding on some of the others.

The two First Year students also quickly learnt not to speak to Professor McGonagall about divination.

At all.

Ever.

While Morag was enraptured by the idea of being able to study the Wizarding World's ghosts, ghouls and poltergeists, with the overall goal of being able to better understand what happened after death, Harry hung to every word of the explanation of Ancient Studies. The thought of studying the ancient magical ways and powers of older time periods, such as Ancient Greece, Ancient Egypt and Ancient Rome was truly fascinating for the young wizard, and he knew for certain that he would almost certainly be putting his name forwards for it in two years' time.

Professor Flitwick, followed shortly by Professor Snape, joined them while the Headmaster was rounding up his explanations, both men offering a brief greeting, the former far more enthusiastic than the latter on the holiday morning.

While Professor Flitwick went straight for the sausages, Professor Snape held off on his food to pour himself a cup of tea as some of the other students that had stayed behind for the holidays entered the Hall.

It seemed that the entirety of the Weasley Clan had remained at school, the Twins frowning lightly at the sight of the two Slytherin First Years chatting with the Headmaster, while Percy offered Harry a polite greeting and chose to sit in the seat on Harry's left. His brothers chose the next seats along, and Harry was happy that Ronald was in the seat furthest from him, completely ignoring the youngest redheaded boy sent as he sent him a dark glare.

When the talk of school subjects died down a few minutes later, as the Headmaster left the table after glancing at his watch, everyone else began to tuck into their breakfast in earnest, two Hufflepuff students and a single Ravenclaw girl joined them, before the last two seats at the table were filled by Madam Pince and Madam Pomfrey, leaving the one Professor Kettleburn had vacated empty, as well as an extra-large, reinforced one, which they could only assume was for the school's resident Gamekeeper.

While others ate and chatted, Harry excused himself from the table, knowing now more than ever that the opportunity he'd been looking for since the beginning of the school year was upon him.

Leaving Morag behind, who was now talking to Professor McGonagall about how more advanced their studies would eventually become in future years, he made his way back out of the Great Hall and down towards the Slytherin common room, offering the seasonal password, "Holly", to the wall protecting the serpents' den, he wasted no time in crossing the threshold, waiting only long enough for the entrance to seal itself before moving to stand in front of the fireplace.

Hung above it was the room's largest portrait, holding the image of a lone serpent. The older students said that it was supposed to be Salazar Slytherin's own animal familiar, but it was no breed Harry had ever seen before, even as he stood in front of it, taking in the image of bright yellow eyes and bright green scales, as it rose to look at him against a solid black background.

" Greetingsss Mighty Ssserpent"

" Greetingsss Young One. How may we ssserve you?"

"I wishhh to do it today. It isss the perfect time to sssucccceed"

"Isss today not a day of cccelebration for your kind?"

"And that isss why it must be today", his eyes came alive with the thought of his success, "they will not be expecting it. Today isss the perfect time to ssstrike"

The serpent nodded, feeling a sense of pride in its youngling's plan, "What do you requessst of usss?"

"I humbly request that you sssimply inform me if they have it. The othersss are honour-bound to assssssissst you, are they not?"

"Very well Young One, you have blood mossst noble. Remain here and I ssshall inform you thusssly"

"My thanksss Ancient One"

He grinned as the snake slithered out of view, and sat himself down in one of the armchairs, waiting for his conversation companion to return. Feeling anxious all of a sudden, he began to tap on the edge of the chair, waiting a few minutes before his friend slid back into view.

" It isss confirmed Young One"

After confirming the exact location he needed to be in, he offered the serpent his thanks once more and wasted no more time in jumping out of the chair, moving straight for the entrance wall, only for it to open before he got there; Morag having returned to the common room, and feeling a new source of inspiration, he grinned at her.

"What?"

If possible, he felt his grin grow wider, "I need a favour, it's nothing bad, I promise, but I need it to be no questions asked"

She looked over him, with eyes much more naïve than his own, before she nodded, looking completely serious, but knowing that, by the unspoken rules of Slytherin House, she knew that he would now owe her the same type of favour later, she finally nodded.

"Okay then Harry, I trust you. No questions asked"

In the large gap between their early breakfast and the day's late Christmas lunch, Harry retrieved his new snakeskin cloak and accompanied Morag who wanted to go outside in the brilliant white Christmas snow.

They walked along the top of the frozen lake, laughing, but slipping and sliding every time they went to take a step. The combination of the snow and chilled them through their cloaks and warming charms as they made their way back up to the castle, seeing the bunch of redheads throwing snowballs at each other, Harry waited until they were much closer before picking up a small pile of snow in his hands, and dumping it on his friend's head, tapping her forehead with his hand.

"HARRY!"

She shrieked even as she stood stock-still, frozen in shock before scrunching up her face, reaching down, fisting a handful of snow and turning to face him with a sinister grin on her face.

He didn't even hesitate.

He bolted.

Morag gave chase across what was usually part of the courtyard, but not only was Harry faster, but his boots and trousers gave him an edge against her wellingtons and dress. He looked back to see that she was following him, turning again just in time to see a large yellow 'F' against a blue background appear in front of him.

He collided with one of the Weasley twins, sending them both tumbling to the ground, landing on top of the older boy as the two of them were buried beneath the snow they were standing in. His hands darted out, scratching at the floor as the older boy was dazed before he felt himself being unceremoniously yanked backwards, snow clinging to him as his glasses clung to the snow-covered ground.

"RONALD!"

He heard Percy's voice calling out his brother's name as he tucked his hands into his pockets, emptying them before he attempted to reach for the ground. A few seconds later he felt whatever had hold of him from behind being pulled off as the panting breath of Morag finally caught up to them, even as he continued to grope at the snow.

"Harry, are you-"

"He can't find his glasses… I can't see them either"

"Oh yes, well that's easy enough then", Percy cleared his throat, sliding his hand into his robe and retrieving his wand, "accio glasses"

Harry still couldn't see, but he assumed something had happened because a moment later he felt hands on either side of his face and his vision cleared up, revealing Morag stood in front of him, helping to put his glasses back on his face.

"Thanks", he muttered to her before turning to the oldest Weasley brother, "thanks for that Percy. I can't see a thing without them"

"Apparently you can't see anything with them either", one of the twins said - George by the large 'G' on his jumper - as Harry turned his attention to Fred, who was absently rubbing at his chest, while Ron sulked behind him, and Harry had a good idea of who it was that had thrown him.

"Sorry about that", he offered a weak smile, "are you alright?"

The twin stared him down for a moment, before nodding jerkily, "'m fine. You?"

"I'm okay now that I can see again"

"You really should be more careful Harry", Percy admonished, "you could've hit anything in this snow. I am glad that you're okay though"

"I'll be more careful next time, I promise", at the prefect's light frown he added, "we were just going to go back inside and wash up before lunch anyway"

His frown receded, "Alright then, just be more careful", he called after them as they made their way back inside, heading straight back for the common room.

Harry waited until they were back in the dungeons before he straightened back up fully, and Morag looked at him sideways as they walked, slightly concerned.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

He smirked, unable to completely contain himself, "Never better"

Never in his life had Harry seen such a Christmas dinner. There was a massive stuffed turkey that Harry swore had to be magically enhanced, it was so big. There were veritable mountains of boiled, roast and mashed potatoes, with huge dishes filled carrots, peas, turnips and Brussel sprouts, a massive platter of fat chipolatas and the table was finished with four jars of cranberry sauce, three enormous silver boats of gravy and a wizarding cracker for everyone at the table.

Harry pulled a wizarding cracker with Percy and had to fight against the urge to jump out of his seat at the volume of the 'bang' it gave off, but he won the cracker and instead of a paper hat, he was rewarded with a silver princess tiara and some white mice, which promptly came alive and scurried off, presumably to become Mrs. Norris' dinner when she returned in January.

Determined to enjoy himself, he placed the tiara into his hair, earning a few chuckles as the others began to do the same with their own pieces of random headgear. Professor Dumbledore wore an overly-large floral bonnet, while a few others won tiaras, Morag and Professor McGonagall both wore over-sized top hats, as did Hagrid, though it looked normal on the massive head of the gamekeeper, and only Professor Snape refused to wear his own striped neon green and red flat cap.

After the turkey, they were served flaming Christmas puddings and Madam Pince almost broke her tooth on the silver sickle embedded in her slice.

They all lingered, slowly enjoying a few more bites as the teachers drank more and more wine, growing redder in the face until Hagrid sloppily kissed Professor McGonagall on her cheek and instead of scolding him, the usually stern Transfiguration Mistress giggled.

Later, when everyone decided to return to their own spaces, Morag decided to sit in front of the fire and start on her Charms homework, which Harry had already done, so he collected his new duelling book and joined her, as the two of them played a slow game of chess between them.

After a late snack of sandwiches, crumpets, trifle and pumpkin juice, Harry returned to his bed with a full stomach and a satisfied feeling in his chest.

This, Harry thought, was the best Christmas ever.

At six thirty Alex was woken up by Flapsy, one of the three house elves the Potter Family owned, and the one that had helped look after him for as long as he could remember. He sat up with a smile on his face, thoughts of Christmas presents and the day's food running through his mind.

He leapt out of bed, shrugging his pyjama top off and leaving it on the floor as he made his way to his bathroom, letting the door swing shut behind him, before he stepped out of his pants, tossing them out of the bathroom and onto his bedroom floor, where Flapsy was already moving about to clean it up.

Once he was freshly showered, he dried himself off with a towel, before stepping back into his bedroom, wrapping it around him, to find that Flapsy had left his best robes laid across his bed, with his best boots on the floor beside his desk.

They were, in his opinion, a dull black colour, but when combined with a crisp white shirt, they were considered to be the proper attire for the day he was about to have. He dressed himself, feeling the same sense of pride he did every time he saw the Potter family crest settle itself over his heart. The black of the emblem blended in with his robes while the gold and tiny amount of red stood out, bolding announcing them, with a silver helmet on the top signalling protection as a scroll bore the name Potter as it unfurled just beneath.

He made his way down to their travelling room, greeting both of his parents with a smile and a "Merry Christmas" on his lips, kissing his mum's cheek, while Tirvy handed him his travelling cloak and Flapsy set about brushing him down.

"You ready to go son?"

Alex looked up at his dad, even as a smirk matching his father's fell across his face.

"I was born ready"

Answered by his father's now-amused look, he took a pinch of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace, throwing it at his feet.

"Ministry of Magic!"

Flanked by both of his parents, Alex waded through the mass of reporters that had congregated in front of the elevators, hoping to catch pictures of the attendees, as they blocked the path that would lead through to the building and down to the Minister's level.

Between the two of them, James and Lily managed to elbow, push and shoulder barge their way past the reporters that thrust microphones and cameras in front of Alexander's face, attempting to question him about everything from Halloween night in 1981, to what he thought his chances of playing professional quidditch were, now that he was officially on one of his school's house teams.

They were met in front of the atrium by the Minister's new trainee undersecretary, a young man whose nametag identified him as Phillips. Graham Phillips was in his first year out of school, still learning the ropes, and was therefore the wizard relegated to working the Christmas shift.

He escorted them onto the elevator, closing the doors on all of the nosy reporters and setting the lift for Level Ten, "Wizengamot Chamber and Courtrooms".

They didn't have time to step off before they were greeted by a gentleman wearing his finest set of silk robes, cradling his ever-present lime green bowler hat.

"Alexander my dear boy welcome to the Ministry, welcome, welcome. It's always a pleasure to have you here m'boy", he shook hands with the Minister, faintly recognising the sound of a camera flash in the background, before the man stood to repeat the process with James, "and of course, Auror Potter, it has been too long since we last spoke in person. How are you today?"

James smiled as he shook hands with the Minister, "I'm very well Minister Fudge, and please allow me to wish you and your wife a very merry Christmas on behalf of the Potter family"

"And a very merry Christmas to you all too", Cornelius smiled as he took one of Lily's hand in his own and pressed a chaste kiss to the back of it in lieu of a proper greeting.

The four of them lingered for a moment, exchanging small talk and smiling while members of the Ministry's PR Department floated around, taking photographs which would be owled out to the country's different publications, including the Daily Prophet, to be used in their Boxing Day editions.

It was a tradition that they had been taking part in since Alex had turned eight years old.

Every year since the attack on Halloween had taken place, the Potter Trio had received an invitation to the Ministry's Annual Christmas Breakfast which followed that day's Wizengamot session. Despite the fact that James had to attend the session, they had held off on accepting any of the family invitations, but the older Alexander became, the harder and harder it was to keep people away from him.

People wanted to know who their hero was, what he looked like, what his hobbies were and after a long conversation, some muted yelling, and an arrangement that neither of them were really happy with, they had decided to start taking him to sponsored events; that way most of the attention was focused on the days' events and the charities people were there to support, rather than everyone mobbing him as soon as he arrived.

Over time Alex became more and more accustomed to reporters trying to force him to answer their questions, and after one memorable incident which happened when he was nine, wherein he was forcibly grabbed by one reporter and his mother had hexed them off of him with a ferocity which had kept anyone else from coming near him for almost sixth months, he had learnt how to deal with some of the more trying ones too.

They lingered around, moving to talk to some of the others already present when the Minister was called off to greet some of the other members of the Wizengamot and the oldest Potter wanted to speak to some of his Ministry colleagues.

Alex could see that the Malfoy and Nott families were also there with their sons, who were the same age as him, as was Lady Longbottom, who had a meek-looking Neville alongside her. A few minutes later Alex was able to recognise more of his schoolmates, as Ernie MacMillan and Zacharias Smith were also there, presumably for the same reason as he was.

Before he could speak to them, and attempt to rescue Neville from his grandmother, the Wizengamot was called into session, and everyone was forced to make their way inside.

He joined his mother as she walked up towards the viewing area for non-members, kissing her on the cheek in departure as he made his way to what usually acted as the witness box when there was an active trial on.

He nodded in greeting to some of the other heirs present in the box, smiling as he waved at Neville, who stumbled over to sit next to him, away from his grandmother. The snakes joined them a few moments later and he took the time to glare at Draco who sneered back.

The huge double doors to the chamber shut with an extremely audible 'bang', and the noise in the chamber diminished, coming into complete silence as Professor Dumbledore, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, rose to his feet, and taking a moment to cast his eyes over them all, he smiled benignly.

"Merry Christmas everyone. Welcome to this, the five thousand, five hundred and fifty ninth session of the Wizengamot, and with that out of the way, I declare that this meeting is now in session!"

Rollcall of all of Wizarding Britain's Ancient and Noble Houses, as well as the additional Order of Merlin holders, all of the senior Ministry of Magic staff, foreign representatives from the International Confederation of Wizards and guests, took over an hour and a half in of itself, as everyone needed to stand as they were introduced, before the reason they were given a seat at the assembly was recognised, or if they were absent, their apologies were given.

They were all easy enough to pick out if you understood what you were looking for. The Wizengamot personnel, made up of the heads of the old families and holders of the Order of Merlin were identified by their plum-coloured robes and hats. The elected Ministry officials, such as Minister Fudge and DMLE Director Bones wore solid, plain black gear and the few representatives of the ICW wore bright white robes, with a light blue stitching, and their hats were made from the same light blue colour.

Once everyone had been greeted by the Speaker of the Council, who was currently Adam Flack, Lord of the Noble House of Flack, the session started in earnest, launching into a discussion on a new piece of anti-werewolf legislation that one of Fudge's new Senior Undersecretaries had proposed; one which would increase the level of supervision that they already had in their community housing developments.

Alex thought it was a good idea, but watched on in silence as the different members of the assembly gave their opinion on the piece. He felt surprised when his father spoke against it, arguing about the level of oppression they already had, and found himself shocked when Lord Black spoke up, agreeing with his arguments.

The Lord Macnair spoke for the legislation, surprising no one with his pro stance, as his bloodthirsty nature was a well-known secret around the chamber.

Others, such as Lord Orspington were much more reserved in their opinions, but it was clear to many that he was strongly against the 'beasts' being reintegrated back into normal Wizarding Society.

At the end of it all, the vote on the bill was scheduled for the next session, giving them all a month to read it and form an opinion before it was decided.

After that, they discussed a new issue that had arisen when the goblins had felt offended by a customer at their bank and how they would endeavour to rectify it; a possible revision on the laws surrounding flying carpets was promptly and almost universally turned down; and from there, they all entered a heated and prolonged debate on some of the new measures that Lords Malfoy, Nott and Parkinson had proposed surrounding muggleborn integration.

Alex drifted off while they all talked, letting all of the arguing and 'debating' go over his head as he began to think off the breakfast that was coming.

The only warning he had to the session ending was when Neville stood up next to him, lightly applauding as the Chief Warlock brought the session to a close, spurring him into action as he stood up, clapping lightly as well.

Groaning under his breath as they stood up, Alex and Neville both shook the stiffness out of their legs as they stood up for the first time since the session had started, ignoring the quiet chuckles of a few of the older boys, who had no doubt been there many times before. Once their bodies' regular blood flow had been restored, they all headed down the steps back towards the floor's small atrium to meet up with their parents.

Lily had already found James when Alex made his way over to them, and James took one look at the slight crookedness of his walk and let out a small laugh.

"Legs fell asleep?"

At his responding nod, he laughed again, even as his wife swatted him on the chest, "James, be nice. It was his first time"

"I'm only joking with him Lilypad", he reached over and ruffled his son's hair, "I remember my first time too, I fell asleep halfway in, and got woken up by my dad shaking me once everyone had left", he shook his head, "he wasn't best pleased with me, I can tell you that"

Lily shook her head fondly at her boys' antics, before turning to face her son once more, "Should we go and eat. I think we could all do with something to eat"

Alex grinned, "Mum, that is the best idea I've heard all morning"

His parents laughed.

Breakfast was loud and cheery as everyone invited to the Wizengamot session lingered around for the mid-morning food. It was more of a buffet-style meal with everyone enjoying bite-sized pieces as they all held goblets as opposed to a traditional sit-down meal, but they would all be enjoying those later with their family and friends.

Alex enjoyed a bacon sandwich as he held a goblet of pumpkin juice in his hand, while he listened to his parents talk with their old Potions professor. He was only half-listening, ignoring the way the former-professor and his mother laughed, sharing a few private jokes that neither he or his father could understand.

After the older man bid the two of them a fond farewell, his eyes lingering on Alex, before his attention was pulled somewhere else by another old student of his. Seeing the look on his face, James and Lily decided that they had kept their son bored long enough and that it was time to take him home.

The Potter Trio made their way back towards the Ministry's fireplaces, moving in between the people moving about when James' arm shot out, grabbing the plum-coloured robe of a passing man, and spinning him round to face them, recognition dawning on his face, and the cheery smile he was wearing dropped into a frown, not quite a scowl or glare, but it was clear that he wasn't happy to see the eldest Potter.

"Hello Sirius"

"Lord Potter"

James sighed, "For Merlin's sake, you don't need to call me that Padfoot, we're old friends after all"

"Really", his face took on a more mocking look, "because I'm pretty sure the last time we talked like this was over three years ago, and I'm pretty sure I said we weren't friends"

"Pad-"

"Don't", his voice dropped as he growled out the single word, "I said everything I had to say to you ten years ago, as did Moony, but you did listen then, you didn't listen three years ago, and I don't want to listen now, so if you don't mind", he forcibly pulled his arm of James' grip, "I believe the Lord Osbert owes me a conversation"

With that, he turned on his heel and walked off, people parting in front of him as he went in search of his target. James stood still for a moment, watching as his oldest friend walked away from him without so much as a backwards glance, before he was pulled out of his reverie by Lily pulling gently on his sleeve.

"Come on luv, let's go home"

Alex had seen the Lord Black at a few official engagements before, he was too big of a presence in the world to not at least know of him, but he'd never seen his dad speak to him before, or even seen a hint that they knew each other outside of their titles.

Come to think of it, he couldn't remember ever seeing them in the same space before.

But the way they spoke to each other in the Ministry? What they said to each other? They definitely knew each other, and if the way his dad had been acting since was any real indication, then they knew each other well.

It hadn't been a bad Christmas, even if his dad's head had been slightly off since the morning meeting, in fact it had been a very good one, with plenty of presents, a fantastic Christmas dinner and a family evening of sitting together as they upheld the Potter Family tradition of listening to the Christmas night quidditch match between Puddlemere United and Pride of Portee.

He sat on the floor near the fireplace, going through the new official Nimbus Broomstick Servicing Kit his parents had bought for him, while his parents cuddled together. He was so engrossed in making sure that he knew how to check that his bristles were all in the correct alignment that he missed his father leaving and returning from his study, only looking up when his mother cleared her throat.

"Sorry"

"It's alright son", James gave a 'come here' gesture and Alex found himself coming to stand in front of his father, while his mother looked on with an expression he couldn't place even as his father handed him over the silvery cloth he had in his hands.

"Dad, what's this?"

James ran his hand along it in a gentle caress, almost reverently, "This son, is one of the Potter Family's best kept secrets and our most treasured possession, our own invisibility cloak", he spoke softly, but proudly as he removed his hands from it, leaving it fully with Alex.

"Dad, what are you...", he trailed off, feeling unsure even as James placed his hands over his son's shoulders.

"It's been a tradition for as long as I know, that on the Christmas after the oldest son starts his schooling, he has the cloak passed in to his possession, until one day he passes it on to his oldest son. This cloak can get past nearly all known safety measures, whereas a normal one could not. You'll find that it won't be affected by spells, and only the strongest of enchanted object would be able to find it. And now, you're eleven years old my son, I believe that it's time for me to pass this onto you"

"Dad, what do I?" Alex swallowed, "What do I do with it?"

His father smiled as he looked down at him, "All you have to do is use it well, just… promise me one thing?"

"Anything"

"You must solemnly swear-"

"James Fleamont Potter", the Potter Matriarch's red hair flared out as she whipped her head around to face her husband fully, "don't you dare start corrupting my son"

His father smirked, lowering his voice as his mother's eyes narrowed, "-that you'll get up to no good"

Alex laughed.

As the excitement from the day faded, Harry lay awake in his bed as the need for sleep slowly crept upon him. With his room illuminated by a dim lumos spell from the tip of his wand, he rolled his hands over the Christmas gift the Weasley Twins had unknowingly bequeathed to him.

Once he had been able to ask the House Serpent for all of the information about the school it could gather, it had spent days gathering information about what it believed he would want to know. It was then that it told him all about the enchanted map the two Gryffindor troublemakers were using to traverse Hogwarts undetected by any and all who could be looking for them - there apparently was a reason they were very rarely caught, and after he was completely sure it wasn't something that actually belonged to the two of them, (the Ancient One, as he'd taken to calling the portrait, had told him that they had apparently 'found' it), he'd decided that it was in his best interests to acquire it for himself.

There was no way the two of them could have created it; the two of them were supposedly talented wizards, if somewhat lazy in class, but they weren't that good, and if it was a family item, then either the youngest or the oldest brother would have it, or at least be monitoring it, so that nothing untoward wold happen to it.

Percy would never allow them to use it for what they did.

No, it had to be something else entirely.

It was something so rare that it wasn't even mentioned on the list of Mister Filch's banned items and objects, which currently included over three hundred different items.

And so, Harry had decided that it was something that he needed.

He began to use the portraits to track the twins, knowing that the two of them were nearly always together and that they always had it on them made it easier to discover that Fred was always the one who carried it, while George kept a look out when they were using it.

He had to wait until the moment was right; when their guard was so low, it couldn't even be considered up, and on Christmas Day, when everyone had decided to do nothing have fun, relax and play in the snow, he (and his accomplice, Morag) had struck.

She didn't know what she was helping him with - he wasn't going to tell her either - but all that mattered to him now was that he was the one who had the map, and best of all, nobody knew that he had it, and even if they did somehow know, there was no way the Weasley Twins could accuse him of stealing it without admitting to owning it themselves.

All he needed to do now, was figure out what the password was.

Chapter Text

' Winning isn't everything, but wanting to, is'

-Vince Lombardi

Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Power

Part Sixteen

Harry Potter & the Whispers of Desire

Chapter Sixteen: The Whispers of Desire

The days following Christmas went by much slower for Alexander than the lead up to the actual holiday had. During the evening of Boxing Day, after enjoying a full day filled with family, the three Potters headed back to the Ministry for another, though much smaller banquet, and a muted ball celebration.

As one of the ministry's more senior aurors, his father's presence was considered mandatory and, despite her disinclination towards anything that could lead to overexposure, his mother was never going to force his father to go at it alone, leaving Alex with a choice: He could either spend the night with Neville and Augusta at Longbottom Hall, which always felt a bit weird over the holiday season. Dowager Longbottom was terrifying on her best day, probably by design, Alex admitted, but it was always worse for them both to be there on a family holiday night without either of their parents. His only other choice was that he could now go with them for the first time, as they now considered him to be old enough.

Despite their warnings of much expected boredom, he'd thought that going with them could be fun - he could spend time with the same people who were responsible for running the country, the same people his dad worked with to catch the dark wizards that threatened said country, and the same people who he could one day be working with, once he became a successful auror too.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

He had quite literally been the only person there under the age of twenty-one and by the time he had managed to return home at a little past midnight, he was tired, cranky and sick of the some of the family matriarch's calling him 'cute' and 'adorable' as they looked down at him.

One of them had even gone as far as to pinch his cheeks.

The days following Boxing Day were much better, as there were no more official functions for his parents to attend, which meant that for the rest of the holiday, he had his parents and his friends all to himself.

His dad still had to actually go to work, but he was used to that by now, and on the days where he had to go in, Alex and Lily would head over to Longbottom Hall for a day, so he could spend it playing gobstones and exploding snap with Neville, while his mum and the Dowager Lady Longbottom reminisced over times gone with people they had known for years.

It wasn't the best Christmas he'd ever had, but it was still pretty fun.

The best times though, where when his dad was home, or better yet, when he had the day off; as Mum would make the two of them venture out into the muggle world for a short while, to see all of the decorations and fairs they offered. They would all go for ice cream, or look for a park with a frozen lake to go ice skating and then build snow men in the park.

Those really were the best days.

Over the last few days they hadn't been able to get out as much because Mum had insisted that he finally take the time to settle down and do all of his Christmas homework. He tried to wheedle his way out of it, (with help from Dad), but when she wanted something doing, it would take the all of the power of Merlin to get Lily Potter to change her mind.

So, Alex was made to settle himself in for a long half-week filled with nothing but potions, basic spell theory and history - why did it even matter what the wizards and goblins of the 1544 Goblin Rebellion fought for? The rebellion was over nearly five hundred years ago. It was the Christmas Holidays, and as far as Alex was concerned, Christmas time was time supposed to be spent with friends and family; not with whatever Snape and Binns had decided was good for them to study.

Unlike his red and gold counterpart, who had left everything until the last minute, Harry had actually spent most of his post-Boxing Day, Christmas break holed away in the school's library.

Madam Pince spent most of her time there anyway, so when he had cautiously knocked on the door and enquired as to whether or not the place was open for use, she had smiled warmly and told him that he was, "Welcome at any time".

Morag had joined him for the most part, using one of the desks to work on what was left of her own holiday homework, which Harry had gone and completed before the break had even really started, while Harry spent his time flitting up and down the shelves, constantly shifting between the library's cataloguing book and his own pieces of parchment on the desk next to hers, muttering to him as he attempted spells, whispering them under his breath so that she couldn't hear him.

He was careful to make sure that what he was doing was kept private, as he poured over tome after tome of charms spells; all of them related to the revelation of secrets and hidden images.

The spells he was attempting to use were far above the level of spells taught to First Year students, some of them were much more advanced that anything he had seen before, but he was confident he could get them to work as long as he took his time with them. In truth, he'd found most of the books he needed the first time he'd tried, but using the spells took a lot out of him, and he found himself feeling exhausted after five or six of them, so he'd broken them up, spreading them over a few days in order to make sure they all worked.

The only problem he had, was that none of them did.

They only had a few days until the school holidays were over and not a single revealing spell he had discovered had worked so far; all he had managed to accomplish was nearly exhausting himself every day.

There were just two days left until the others came back from their own homes and families, and Harry, having hidden the supposed 'map' - he didn't doubt the portrait, but it was still frustrating to have no actual proof of its function - at the bottom of his trunk, decided to spend it all in their training room, taking full advantage of having the house's full-sized duelling platform and training dummies all to himself. He worked on improving his aim, by getting used to making his spells follow the pathway he wanted rather than the way his wand might be pointing at the time.

When he was done pushing himself on the last day, he spent the last hours of the night before curfew making sure that everything had been put back in its place, that all of his books were either put back on his shelves or returned to their proper places in the library, and that his room, the boys' bathroom and their common room were all clean and tidy.

On the Friday before classes started up again, Harry and Morag decided to spend the day finishing their homework and reading at the side of the lake. Not to be outdone by the Fourth Years that had tried to show off to them at the beginning of the year, Harry displayed his own, brand new, flames-in-a-jar trick, letting a soft yellow glow burn alongside them, helping to keeping them relatively warm and dry, as they looked out over the frozen landscape.

They returned there after they had a quick lunch and simply waited for the carriages to arrive.

They were in the middle of a game of chess when the carriages finally began to arrive, just in time for dinner. Some of the older housemates they recognised nodded at them as they passed, dressed casually from their return trip, while the two of them waited for their classmates to arrive.

Of all of the First Years, Alex was the first one they recognised, who offered his brother a smile as he passed by, which Harry returned with a curt nod, completely ignoring Longbottom and Granger as they walked right behind him.

He noticed some of the others he shared classes with going past, as the two of them remained seated: Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff led the rest of their group of friends; more badgers and a few of the ravens followed them; and at the very back of the group was where Harry could spot Blaise and Theo heading towards them from.

He raised a single hand in greeting while Morag waved at the girls behind them, aiming mostly at Millicent. Draco led Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy straight past them, not even pausing to say hello as they headed straight up to the castle.

Standing up, he dispelled the charm keeping the two of them warm, as his chess set packed itself away. He turned, offering Morag a helping hand to her feet, as the others finally reached them.

"Hi guys", he greeted the combined group of Blaise, Theo, Daphne, Tracey and Millie with a warm smile, "did you all have a good Christmas?"

He received a few muttered 'yeses', 'yeahs' and a few 'how was yours?' in response, which as he and Morag slung their bags over their shoulders as they made their way back in towards the castle. They all decided to swing by their rooms and let Harry and Morag drop off their bags off before going to the Great Hall for dinner, which was a much livelier affair than the two of them had become accustomed to over the last few weeks.

Morag was much quieter than he had become used to, but it seemed that was only because he was now used to having all of her attention, being that he was the only person in the castle that she could really talk too.

Blaise regaled them all of his time spent back in Italy for this holiday break, spent at his family's ancestral home, with his mother and her new boyfriend.

Having finally heard the rumours about Blaise's mum's husbands, he shuddered to think about what that could soon mean.

Theo had returned home to spend his Christmas with his father, which had apparently included being taken the Christmas Day session of the Wizengamot. Harry was fascinated by the idea, but the others help Theo protest the idea of interest, as the session had gone on for hours before he was finally allowed to leave; other than that, he had however, enjoyed himself.

Daphne had spent her break at home with her family, making sure that she spent lots of time with her sister, who wouldn't be starting her own schooling for another two years yet, until they were all Third Years. She had also invited Tracey and her mother around for most of the festivities.

They ate and traded stories over their food until it was time to leave for the common room once more, telling jokes and anecdotes as they made their way back towards their own spaces, bidding each other goodnight and settling in for a good night's rest.

It was difficult, Harry thought, to describe the feelings in his chest as he lay down that night, still smiling from the stories they'd all been telling, but he was certain now, especially with them all being back, that he had in fact missed them.

"Well I think it's a good idea-"

"I don't disagree dear, I'm just saying let's let them settle in before we drag them in for tea", Lily sighed as she walked about Alex's room, already missing him despite the fact that she'd be able to see him again in a few short weeks for Easter, "just give it a week for them to get back into their routines before we decide to have a meeting with Professor Dumbledore. I wish he'd come here for Christmas too, but if he was invited to go elsewhere, or even stay at Hogwarts, then that was his decision; you don't have to like it - I know I don't - but you do have to accept it"

James sighed, knowing that despite everything his wife was right, "Alright, alright, we'll give it a week, but can we at least owl him now and set it up?"

"That's a brilliant idea sweetheart", she leant up to kiss him on the cheek as she left the room, "why don't you go and do that while I get started on dinner?"

Lessons started up again on Monday, and after a weekend of being roped into helping everyone with their homework instead of working on his duelling skills or researching magical objects, Harry felt more than prepared for class.

Professor Snape was on fine form, deducting constant points from Gryffindor in their very first class back - no doubt treating it as a belated Christmas gift to himself - while Professor McGonagall began her class with a lecture of the different theories of Transfiguration they would soon be studying; all of which they would be tested on after Easter.

After a brief lunch, it was time for their first Charms class of the new year, which began with a full review of everything they had already covered in the first half of the school year, before the second half of the class was made up of students clearing some space and attempting to cast 'Incendio' on the paper targets they had been provided with.

This time around, Professor Flitwick had ensured that anything remotely flammable was raised well away from the ground, so as to not cause any more damage to the castle.

Harry ended up partnering with Tracey and Theo who were both struggling, as he attempted to walk them through the spell step-by-step, but by the end of the class, all they were capable of producing was a few flickering embers from the tips of their wands - in fact, only Susan Bones from Hufflepuff had managed to cast any real fire, setting her target on fire and scorching the floor around it.

When they were all dismissed, he lingered just long enough to ask Professor Flitwick if he could provide a few tips on the casting of 'Aguamenti', which he was still struggling to learn. He was there long enough to get the name of a new book which was meant to be able to help him and left just in time to slip into his seat before Professor Quirrell began his first lesson of the new term.

The rest of the week was mostly similar for the First Years, with the teachers reviewing what they had already been taught, outlining what was coming up in the next term, and then reminding them all that they would all have their first real set of school exams after they came back from their Easter break.

To the varying levels of indifference and jealousy of his peers, Professors Flitwick and Quirrell had taken to segregating him in his classes, pushing him into different material, which was harder than what the others were studying. He didn't know how far along he was compared to the others, but he was enjoying the excerpts they were providing him with.

His lack of control over Aguamenti became less and less obvious over the first few weeks, until he was able to let out a small, constant stream of water from the tip. He hadn't exactly achieved the 'jetting' function of the spell that he was supposed to, but it was still excellent progress from being unable to cast anything at all.

He was still determined to find a solution to his new map problem, as well as come up with a few useful ideas of his own for the duelling tournament which was going to take place in a few weeks.

He knew had the ability to do it all, all he needed now, was enough time to pull it off.

Similarly to 'Slytherin's Standout Student', the 'Golden Trio' of Gryffindor House was also in a good mood.

Not only were they all back after a great Christmas break, all three of them refreshed and in higher spirits than before, they were laughing to themselves when Neville of all people had managed to help them figure out who Nicholas Flamel was!

It had been written on the back of one of the chocolate frog cards that Ron had sent Alex for Christmas.

Malfoy had hit Neville with the leg-locker jinx and made him hop all the way up to Gryffindor Tower from the fourth floor. After Hermione had cast the general counter-curse, Alex had given him the last frog from his pocket, and Neville had given them Dumbledore's card back, with Nicholas Flamel clearly mentioned on the back.

True to everything they had come to know about her - that was all Hermione needed to find him.

That 'thing' Fluffy was guarding on the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side wasn't just any old item, no. It was the actual Philosopher's Stone!

And Snape was trying to steal it!

Hermione immediately began researching anything and everything she could about the Philosopher's Stone, trying to find something - anything - that they could use to help protect it.

While Hermione worked around the clock to find the information they needed, Alex instead decided that he had waited long enough for everyone to have settled back into the castle, and that it was now time to keep his promise to his dad and get up to a bit of mischief.

Later, he would offer to take Ron and Hermione with him, but for tonight? For the first night? The first time was going to be all about himself.

Grinning, he pulled the cloak out of his trunk, letting the silky silver material run through his hands, before he slowly slid it over his body, watching in the mirror as he slowly disappeared, vanishing into thin air.

Feeling somewhat giddy with his own excitement, Alex made his way down the stairs and across the common room floor, heading straight through the portrait hole. The Fat Lady gave a muffled grunt as her frame was moved in her sleep, but she didn't wake as he pushed her back into place, letting out a sigh in relief.

He was almost caught before he started.

He made his way down the stairs, looking around in the older corridors that he hadn't been in yet and unused classrooms he hadn't managed to find. He walked past the library, idly entertaining the thought of attempting to sneak into the Restricted Section, helping with Hermione's relentless search of Nicholas Flamel, but in the end he thought better of it.

There's always tomorrow night.

He casually strolled through the corridors, the cloak silencing his footsteps, as he glided over the dusty floors; moving through empty room after empty room, until he finally found a door that was locked.

Ooh… it could be something interesting.

Whipping his wand out of his pyjama pocket, he tapped it against the lock and with a whisper-yelled, "Alohamora", holding his breath, he tried the lock once again, and with a push, the door swung open with a loud creak, making him flinch even without anybody around to hear it.

Wordlessly, he slipped inside the room, slowly shutting the door behind him, careful to not make any more noise before he turned around, only to come face-to-face with an empty room.

Empty, except for the massive ornate mirror that stood proudly in the centre of the room.

It was tall and imposing, made from what looked to be a now-dulled solid gold, with two clawed feet keeping it steady. He ran his eyes over the intricate pattern woven into the metal, following it around, as it twisted and twirled up to the top, where someone had carved words intermingled with the design: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

What does that mean?

Feeling even more curious than he had previously, Alex stepped back slightly from where he was stretching, reaching up on his tiptoes to trace the words with his fingers, before he took a moment to take a look at his reflection.

He let his cloak fall to the floor as he took in the full view of himself. He looked taller in the mirror than he should've been, and maybe even a little bigger too, physically stronger, but other than that he looked the same. His hair was the same, his glasses looked exactly as they had when he'd put them on that morning, his robes still had the red and gold trimming, just like Harry's-

Harry!

Seeing his brother over his shoulder, he whipped around, losing the cloak completely, only to find that the room was still empty; he was still alone. His head span back around to face the mirror, before returning to the room once again. He knew sure that he was still alone, but when he turned back to face the mirror, he found that Harry was still there.

They were both smiling, Harry and himself, dressed in matching Gryffindor robes. His hand went to check his shoulder as Mirror-Harry grinned widely, throwing an arm around his taller shoulders, pulling him into a side-hug.

He kept his eyes on the mirror as Mum and Dad came to stand behind them and Alex realised, for the first time, that he and his dad were the same height, all three men were taller than Mum, but Alex and James were both taller than Harry as well - Dad was the tallest of the three.

Their parents both reached out in unison, each resting a hand on one of their shoulders. Mirror-Harry reacted by leaning back into a hug from Mirror-Mum, while Mirror-Dad wrapped an arm around Alex's shoulders tightly, supporting him from the back; all four of them sharing wide grins and sparkling eyes, as though they were privy to some inside joke.

He took another look at the mirror, looking for more details, and gasping when he saw the badges pinned to his uniform, making a nice, neat, diagonal line across the front of his robes were the red and gold prefect's badge, the quidditch captain's shield and the Head Boy's badge.

And Harry wasn't upset as he stood next to him, his brother looked at him the same way his father did, the two of them looking completely identical except for their eyes, which glowed with nothing but pride for Alex's accomplishments.

Alex didn't know just how long he stood there for, simply basking in their presence, but when he eventually felt his eyes begin to droop, he tried to move from his spot only to find that his knees had locked up. Shaking his legs awake, he pulled his cloak back on over his shoulders, making sure he was covered completely before, with a last glance back at the mirror, he slipped out of the room and into the corridor, dutifully heading back towards his bed.

Alex knew that he wanted to visit with the mirror again, but only this time, he decided that he wanted to do it with his brother too - Harry needed to see the image of the two of them together, the same way that Alex had. He needed to see them stood, side-by-side, as brothers should be, wearing their red and gold trimmed robes.

The only problem with that, was that he actually needed to convince Harry to go with to see it.

The day after his long night in front of the mirror was a Friday, which he bemoaned once he realised that if he had waited a day, he would've had an entire day to rest. He debated skipping his first class, but given that it was double Potions with the snakes, he decided against, more than able of believing that Snape would decide to seek him out in response. Wanting to make the most of it though, he resolved to speak to Harry after class. He tiredly half-walked, half-stumbled into the classroom, unceremoniously flopping onto his stool next to Neville, straightening himself up mere seconds before Snape flew into the room.

The class wasn't too difficult by Snape's usual standards; he left them all to their own devices, ordering them to work on their own potions to speed up hair growth in silence. The Potions Master prowled about the room, docking points for every infraction he saw the Gryffindors make, both the real and the imagined, but by the time the class was over, Alex had only lost ten points of his own volition.

When they were curtly dismissed for lunch at the end of the double session, Alex made sure that he was the very first one out of the room, immediately moving to stand on the other side of the hallway, so that he could clearly see everyone else as they came out.

Hermione and Ron sent him confused looks as he stood there, but they waited alongside him anyway as the rest of their housemates walked past, chatting animatedly as they made their way up towards the Great Hall for lunch.

The Slytherin students that went by ignored him for the most part, only Malfoy paused long enough to shoot him a sneer, which he returned with a half-hearted glare before turning his attention to the last two to exit the classroom.

Having waited for Zabini to finish packing his things away, Harry- Hadrian (if he wanted this to go well - and he did, then it would be plain stupid to start by doing anything that would annoy him, no matter how stupid he thought it was), was one of the last to leave.

He gave his brother a few seconds to straighten up as he made his way outside of the classroom, before he stepped up to him, effectively blocking the way to lunch. Ron and Hermione shuffled behind him in support, even as Blaise did the same to Harry.

He gave a nod in greeting, making sure to keep his voice level and neutral as he spoke, just like when his dad did, whenever he had to give bad news to his mum, "Hadrian"

"Alexander", there was a slightly clipped tone to his words, one that spoke of little patience, though as his eyes ran over Ron and Hermione behind him, where being outnumbered normally caused people to worry, he only looked faintly amused at their presence, "what can I do for you?"

"Can we talk?"

"We can. We are", his lips flicked into a brief smirk, "or were you not aware what this is called?"

He bit his lip as Blaise sniggered, and ignoring the annoyed forms of Ron and Hermione, straightened slightly as Harry unconsciously mimicked them, which only served to make him look even taller than he was, he was still skinny, though not as bad as he had been when they had met, but over the year, he had grown taller than Alex was, "What I meant was, can we talk alone?"

He stressed the last word, emphasising it as much as he could, and he could see the moment he had earned his brother's curiosity, as it was clearly reflected in his eyes. Harry seemed to debate it with himself before he nodded slightly, "Okay then", he flicked his eyes over towards Ron and Hermione, "lose the rest of your little lions' pack then"

Alex held his brother's gaze for a moment, forcing himself not to shake at the gaze of his brother's unnaturally piercing green eyes, before he glanced at his friends over his shoulder, "It's fine guys, I'll see you both in a few minutes. Save me a seat?"

Neither of them looked happy at the idea, but they both nodded. The two of them sending his brother and Blaise a look that conveyed their distrust, before they began to walk off towards the Great Hall, walking slowly and turning back every few paces while Alex nodded towards Blaise, who was still stood behind Harry.

Looking towards his friend, Blaise gave a short shrug of his shoulders, and after a receiving silent nod of confirmation, he too walked off, not once looking back as he headed towards his own lunch.

Both twins waited until they could no longer see their friends before Harry decided to speak, "So…", he drawled the word out, "what can I do for you brother dear?"

"I have something I want to show you"

"Well then", he made a 'go-on' gesture with his left hand, "let's get on with it"

"No", the word came out rushed and he paused to take a breath, "not right now. Can you meet me at the library tonight", his voice dropped into a whisper, "after curfew?"

His eyebrows rose in response, as his interest in the situation increased. Inwardly he cursed himself for not knowing how to activate his new map, but the Ancient One hadn't been able to discover the password, (the twins had always been careful to whisper it quietly enough that even her hearing couldn't make it out), but he was still certain he would be able to get to the library undetected anyway.

"Why?"

"Because that's where the thing I want to show you is?"

"Why can't we go now?"

"We just… can't", Alex finished lamely, before trying to appear as relaxed as he could, he looked round them to make sure that there was no one around, lowering his voice even further, "just… please?"

More interested than he had been before - Alexander sounded close to begging - he weighed up his options. Going could mean getting caught and disciplined both on his way to the library and on the way back; neither of which were options he was particularly excited about, more so if Professor Snape were to catch wind of it, which was guaranteed to happen if he were discovered; but on the other hand, his relationship with his brother was practically non-existent at this point, and if he looked this desperate to simply show him something, then just what could it be?

"There's a small alcove along the corridor to the right of the library entrance", at the sound of his voice, Alex's head snapped up, looking at him almost in disbelief, "do you know where it is I'm talking about?"

"Yes, why-"

"Eleven o'clock tonight. I'll be there, alone, and if this is as important as you seem to think it is, then so should you"

Not giving him a chance to respond, Harry brushed past him, re-shouldering his bag as he picked it up from where he had let it rest on the floor, and moved to join his friends upstairs, leaving his stunned brother behind.

It was a quarter to eleven when he slipped out of the common room, leaving with a whispered goodbye to an intrigued Blaise, before wordlessly slinking past the older students who were still awake, through the dungeons and heading straight up towards the Entrance Hall.

He paused long enough to make sure the coast was clear before he darted out and up towards the staircase. He'd noticed that, for some reason he didn't understand, the prefects and teachers rarely patrolled the staircases, instead devoting most of their time to the different corridors and abandoned classrooms dotted along them.

It was with relative ease that he made his way up to the fourth floor, moving from alcove to alcove as he glided down the corridor and the doorway to the library was in sight when he felt someone grab his arm to forcefully spin him around.

He reacted on instinct, shoving backwards as he pushed away, letting his wand slip into his hand and coming to a stop with his wand levelled at his brother's throat.

"Hi", if Alex squeaked, he would deny it later, but he put his hands up in a non-threatening manner as Harry discretely slid his wand back into his holster, "I wasn't sure you'd come"

"And yet here I am", he relaxed slightly now that he knew his attacker wasn't actually attacking him, "now can you show me whatever it was you wanted to show me?"

"Yes", Alex smiled widely as he picked up the cloak he'd dropped to the floor, "come on then, get in"

"What? Why on earth would I get under that with you?"

"It's an invisibility cloak", he stated that as though it should have been obvious, and Harry bristled at the implication; it wasn't his fault that his general knowledge was sorely lacking, "come on then. If we go this way, we definitely won't be caught"

Still feeling slighted, he nevertheless joined his twin under the silvery material, shimmering out of existence and letting Alexander lead him down the corridor, pressed far too close together than he was comfortable with. They went in the opposite direction to the rest of the library, moving back towards the staircase, before Alex led them on a detour past the empty classrooms, storerooms and offices, until they reached a large door near the very end of the corridor. If Harry remembered Professor Snape's tour correctly, then they weren't too far from the Trophy Room.

Alex pushed it open slowly, careful not to let the hinges creak as he led Harry into the room. Once they were inside, he made sure to shut the door just as carefully while Harry immediately stepped out from under the cloak, breathing heavily which Alex thought was weird, it's not as though the walk had been hard, but he decided not to pay too much attention to it, as he turned to look at the mirror once again.

Harry turned to look at him from where he had been examining the detailing on the frame, tracing his "This is what you wanted to show me?"

"Yep"

"…It's a mirror"

"Yeah, well, I know that", he huffed as he pulled Harry in front of it, so that they were both looking at it fully, "here, just look at it… see?"

"Wow"

"So you can see it too?"

"Yeah, I can"

He could definitely see himself in the mirror, looking almost regal as he stood tall - much taller than he was in real life - only this time his glasses were gone, leaving his face bare and his bright green eyes in clear view. His hair was styled out of the usual mess it was in, combed back neatly and leaving the faint scar on his forehead clearly visible. He was wearing his school clothes underneath a fitted black robe, which had the Head Boy and Slytherin Prefect badges pinned to it.

Mirror-Harry, as he decided to call it (him?), was lazily twirling his wand around in his left hand while he saw flashes behind him of the others - an older Blaise came to stand right behind him, smiling and placing a firm hand on his shoulder in a solid show of support. Theo came to stand alongside Blaise and Draco appeared on his left, followed by Crabbe and Goyle, all of them nodding at him, standing tall and behind him in a show of loyalty and support.

The girls were there too, looking taller and more developed then they were at the moment, each of them coming to stand with them, looking as regal as he did, and he had to admit, rather beautiful.

But what took Harry's attention away from it all were the flashes behind him - images coming and going of himself performing amazing feats of magic, wielding powers that he was only now beginning to read about in his books, as he faced down opponents who looked stronger, more powerful than he ever thought possible, only for them to all fall at his feet, completely and utterly defeated.

It was incredible to see, and it made him feel something akin to awe inside his chest, even as his reflection opened its mouth, and he heard the words inside his head appear there as clearly as if he was talking to himself.

Is this the future? Is that what this mirror does? Is this my future?

The mirror-version of himself smirked at his question, tuning to face him with a proud smirk, mixing with his relaxed posture and wand twirling, to make him look effortlessly powerful. He thought he saw its eyes flash scarlet for a moment, before he (it?) opened its mouth to respond.

It could be… it could all become true, exactly as you see it… but only if you are prepared to do what is necessary for it to come to fruition.

And what is that? What do I have to be prepared to do?

What do I need to do?

Anything… nothing… and yet everything… no matter what the cost may be…

Isn't that extreme though?

And greatness isn't?

No… it's… it's…

Yes…?

Greatness is just-

Greatness is just an extreme of power and influence - being great isn't enough - people must believe you're great before they will call you so…

That… sounds right…

You could be great you know? You've already taken your first steps to greatness-

But how do I get there?

Mirror-Harry leant in towards him, and he found himself doing the same, as though they were sharing a big secret no one else could know.

It's simple, all you have to do is trust me.

What does tha-

"ry- I mean Hadrian?"

Alex stepped in front of his brother, waving his hand and breaking his trance with the mirror. He was startled to see how close he'd gotten to it. He'd been a few paces from it when he'd started to look into it, but when Alexander had moved between them to break his contact with it, he'd nearly had his nose pressed to it.

His forehead lightly throbbed in pain, a minor headache at worst, so he took a deep breath to help reduce the sensation while Alex moved forward, so that the two of them were stood nose to nose, or at least, nose to forehead. Now that he was aware of the pull the mirror had, he felt more in control of himself and the feeling itself - the images were still there, he could see them, but now they seemed smaller, as if distorted in his mind somehow.

His eyes ran over it a loose manner, settling on the words carved in to the very top of the frame. It took a few moments for their message to sink in.

It's not real… it's all in my head.

Of course, it's in your head fool - it's a mirror!

But why should that mean that it can't be real…

Alex was grinning, alternating between him and the mirror, still enamoured by what he could see, and in that moment, he realised that whatever he was looking at was not the same as what he himself had seen. The mirror wouldn't have shown that to Alex - why would it? - so whatever his brother could see must have been something different.

"It's amazing, isn't it?"

He cleared his throat, "What do you see?"

Still grinning, he pointed at the mirror, "Well, it's us, isn't it? You and me in our Gryffindor robes with Mum and Dad. We're together, we're happy", he breathed out the last word, as he turned to Harry with almost-pleading eyes, only to see the slight frown he wore.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing"

"Well it's not nothing, it's obviously something"

"I said it's nothing"

"Fine, don't tell me", the brown-haired twin nodded, "but you can see it too though, right?"

"No"

"What? But you just said You could a minute ago!"

"We're seeing different things Alexander - I think that's what the mirror's for. Whatever it is you can see, I don't see the same thing"

"What? But-"

"No Alexander", he took a few more steps back from the mirror, blinking his eyes and shaking his head, determined not to let himself be drawn in anymore, "we shouldn't be here, it's dangerous-"

"It's just a mirror", he protested with a laugh.

"Look, I'm going back to bed and I'd advise you to do the same"

"Honestly Harry, it's just a mirror"

"No", his brother's voice held a note of warning that Alex didn't miss, "it isn't. Go back to bed Alex"

"Wait- Harry!"

He was too late, his brother had already slipped through the door and left him behind as he returned to his bed.

The next night was a Saturday, and if Harry wanted to spend nearly all of it pouring through thick texts on whatever he was reading about instead of talking to him about what he saw, then that was fine with him, but he was Alex Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and he wasn't afraid of an old mirror. Most importantly of all, he was definitely going back.

It was a Saturday night, and while that meant that all of the older students were up to a much later hour, it also meant that he had no classes he needed to be awake for the following morning. He went to bed early, catching a few hours of sleep before he awoke, slightly after midnight, and donning his slippers and dressing gown under his invisibility cloak, he made his way back down towards the fourth floor.

He knew the way much more easily this time, making it to the room much quicker, letting the cloak drop to the floor as he entered, he sat himself on the steps in front of the mirror, ignoring the slight chill of the room as he gazed intently at the images it offered him.

He watched as Dad took a younger Harry and himself out with his broom for their first flying lesson, both of them laughing as they traded shots at their Dad who was playing as the keeper. The two of them sat on Mum's lap as she read stories to them, both of them picking out their favourite Beedle tales for fun, while Dad sat beside them, adding in his special voices for effect. Alex watched as they received their Hogwarts letters together, beaming as all four of them made their way into Diagon Alley to buy their wands - his holly and Harry's white one.

It was the way things should have been.

"So, back again are we, Alexander?"

He whipped round, jumping to his feet as his insides turned to ice. Casually resting against the window behind him was Professor Dumbledore, wearing robes of bright turquoise as his silver beard reflected the moonlight coming in through panes.

"Sir, I'm sorry Sir, I didn't see you there - I mean-"

"Strange isn't it", the elderly wizard smiled down kindly at him, "how near-sighted being invisible can make you?"

Alex didn't know what to say as the headmaster came to stand next to him, resting his hand on his shoulder as they both looked into the mirror, "This is the Mirror of Erised, and after three nights gazing into it, I would like to believe that you know what it does?"

"It shows us what we want, doesn't it?" He asked, unsure of his answer against the Headmaster's amused expression, "Whatever we want, even if it's not real?"

"Yes", he nodded, "and no. The mirror shows us nothing more or less than that which our heart desires most. Take yourself for example; while your brother saw something different, no doubt something that personifies his independent nature, you saw your family, all of your family, including your dear brother; all of you whole and happy to be together again, in the manner you feel most comfortable, that is, for you at least, wearing Gryffindor robes"

"How do you-"

The headmaster smiled once more, still looking amused as his eyes and beard twinkled in the moonlight, "Unlike most, I do not need a cloak to become invisible", he let out a soft breath, "it is a brilliant thing that you see Alexander, love, both for your parents and your brother, and I would tell you to hold onto that hope the mirror gave you, for not all is yet lost for it"

"What do you mean Sir?"

Dumbledore let out a deep breath, looking far older in that moment than Alex had ever seen him, "Many years ago, I believe your parents made a mistake in sending away your brother, even if it was for his own protection, however I know that none of the blame for that lies with you", the headmaster's gaze become serious as he looked him in the eye, "I do not believe that our young Hadrian blames you either, he simply needs time to understand that he can have you in his life now"

Straightening back up, the older wizard guided him away from the mirror with a firm hand on his back, "Now Alexander, I believe it's time for you to put that most admirable cloak back on and return to bed, but before you do, I must ask one thing of you"

"Anything, Professor"

His gaze became one of admonishment, "Never make such a promise, especially not one you may be unable to keep", he held his gaze for a moment, uncannily serious before he smiled warmly once more, "Tomorrow, I will be moving the mirror to a new home elsewhere, I must simply ask that you never go looking for it again"

"I won't Sir", he promised, before plucking up his courage to speak once more, "but may I ask you a question?"

"You just did", he grinned widely, if he had been a child, Alex would've even gone as far as to call it cheekily, "however, given what we are discussing, I will permit you to ask me one more"

Alex swallowed nervously, "What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"I see myself, holding a pair of thick woollen socks. Another Christmas has come and gone, and yet I didn't receive a single pair", he adopted a saddened and confused look, which was only ruined by the twinkle in his eye, "for some reason people insist on giving me books, now off to bed with you and goodnight"

Alex smiled back at his headmaster, enjoying the obvious joke for what it was, "Goodnight Sir"

It was only once he had safely returned to his dormitory and gotten back into bed that he realised neither Harry, nor Professor Dumbledore, had actually told him what they saw, but then again, he supposed, it had been a rather personal question.

Chapter Text

' You will win the respect of just about everyone you talk with, if you don't interrupt'

-Unknown

Harry Potter: The Chronicles of Power

Part Seventeen

Harry Potter & the Whispers of Desire

Chapter Seventeen: Tea Time with Professor Flitwick

"Hello?"

He knocked cautiously, peering into the office as the diminutive Charms Master bustled over, making his way from his own adjoining set of private rooms, waving him in with a sincere smile on his face.

"Ah Mister Potter, please do come in, do come in", he gestured towards one of the normal sized chairs as the professor settled himself on his comically raised one, necessary to place him level with his students, "can I get you anything? I was just about to make a pot of tea if you would like a cup? Or a coffee instead, though you are rather young for that… Perhaps some pumpkin juice would be more to your liking?"

"Just a glass of water would be nice Sir", he offered his favourite professor a small smile of his own as he took a seat in the offered chair, settling himself into it, "thank you for letting me see you"

"Nonsense my dear boy", he set a glass of ice water down in front of Harry, before sitting down in his own chair with a glass of his own, "you'll always be welcome in my classroom. Now tell me, tell me, what can this old Charms Master do for you?"

He sipped his water, looking downtrodden as he did so, before he squared his shoulders, seemingly coming to a decision as he looked his diminutive professor in the eye, "I wanted to know if you'd help me with some extra training Sir?"

"Help you with extra training, Mister Potter?" The Charms Master adopted a knowing smile, tilting his head in amusement, "Whatever would you need that for?"

"This year's duelling tournament Sir"

"Oh really", he smiled wider, "and what makes you think I'd be of any use to you, as opposed to say, your defence professor?"

"Professor Quirrell is going to be teaching a class on duelling Sir, he said as much in our last lesson, but it'll be open to anyone and everyone who wants to attend. I wanted to have something a bit more… thorough", the boy offered his teacher a wry grin of his own, "and I did my own bit of research on the matter"

Taking a pause to clear his throat, Harry took a sip of his water, letting it wet his mouth before adopting a tone of voice that the charms professor would use himself in some of his own lectures, "Filius Forkner Flitwick, born October third, in the year 1936, to a mixed goblin and wizard ancestry. British under-fifteens Duelling Champion in the years 1949 and 1950, followed by managing to win silver at the Junior World Duelling Championship in 1951 aged sixteen years old. He then took two consecutive bronze medals at the World Duelling Championships in the years 1955 and 1956, aged just nineteen and twenty years old respectively. After that Professor, you never returned to try and claim the World Championship despite the young age you managed to find success on the circuit, leading many to believe you had decided to instead further your education. Six years later you returned to Britain, now a fully-qualified Charms Master, and then you also eventually took part in the British Civil War, fighting alongside the Ministry, while also taking up the post of the new Charms Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry", he paused to take another sip of his water and Flitwick smiled, seemingly both surprised and delighted, "that's why I'm asking you Professor; and also, I'd like to check, did I miss anything?"

Flitwick chuckled as he nodded his head, "All valid points Mister Potter, and no I believe you did not, but what I meant was why ask me in particular as opposed to say, your own Head of House in Professor Snape? Or perhaps even simply an older student? I know for a fact that Slytherin House has many gifted duellists. So, tell me, Mister Potter, just why is this all so important to you?"

"No reason-"

"Liar"

He swallowed, scowling at the admonishment, but not denying it, "It- I mean…"

"Take your time Mister Potter", he smiled at his student genially, "and don't rush, just relax and then talk to me when you're ready. Now Mister Potter", he leant his small body forward, resting on his desk, "let's start at the beginning"

The Mirror of Erised had freaked Harry out, not necessarily in what he thought was a bad way, but after years of avoiding any real form of self-reflection, having his heart's desire displayed so openly for him had simply freaked him out.

He was just happy that Alexander hadn't been able to see what he had.

Feeling the need to be distracted by something, he said goodbye to Blaise on Sunday morning, much to the other boy's upset look, letting him and the others get started on some of their homework by the lake. He gifted Morag with a burning jar, outdoing the previous one by having magicked the flames to slowly flicker through the different colours of the rainbow, before making his way up towards the library.

He went back to looking at different types of enchanted maps, determined to find a way to make his own work the way it was supposed to. Copies of Magical Maps and Guides, A Novice's Guide to Enchantment, and The Magigeographer's Guide proved to be of no help to him, as he skimmed through all of three of them, looking through the different sections on the spellwork required, only to continuously come up empty.

When he finally dropped The Magigeographers Guide, crossing it off of his list of potentially useful books, a brief look out of the window told him that it was now much darker outside than it should've been. Making sure that Madame Pince wasn't around to see him, he muttered a quiet, "Tempus", only to find out that it was now five minutes-to-seven. Not only had he managed to spend his entire day soaking up all of the knowledge on magical maps he could, but now he also had less than five minutes to make it down to the Great Hall, grab a seat and eat something before the food vanished from the tables.

That's nowhere near enough time.

Knowing that it would only serve as an exercise in futility, he decided instead to ignore his hunger pangs and put back the books he'd borrowed - it wouldn't be the first time he'd had to miss a meal. He made sure to put all of the books back in their rightful places, before he waved goodbye to the school's librarian and left the room, immediately walking straight into Lucan, his bony shoulder clipping the older boy's chest, who managed to catch him with a hand around his shoulders.

Instinctively, he bucked away from the arms that grabbed him, striking the older boy in his chest with the edge of his shoulder a second time, harder, who immediately let go of him, rubbing his chest and looking irritated at the pain.

"Gah, dammit Harry"

"Wha- oh", he looked up to see one of his House's prefects, "sorry Lucan. I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright", he grunted, continuing to rub his chest as he thrust one of his hands out towards Harry. He minutely flinched away from it but kept his eyes on it, as he took the neatly rolled scroll it held, "Here, take this. Professor Snape asked me to give it to you - he said it was urgent. Zabini told me where you were"

"Oh, well thanks then, I suppose"

"Don't mention it", he pressed the letter into the younger boy's hands as he moved to leave, "just read it before Professor Snape comes looking for you, or worse, comes looking for me"

"I'll read it now then, and sorry again by the way"

Lucan waved his apology off as he made his way towards the stairs, and Harry made his way over to one of the benches. He slid his bag onto the floor before flicking open the purple ribbon keeping the scroll together, unfurling it to find narrow, yet loopy writing waiting for him.

Dear Mr. Potter

Please make your way to my office at approximately seven o'clock this evening. It is located behind the griffin statue on the third floor. The current password is Bertie Bott's Beans.

Prof. Albus Dumbledore
Hogwarts Headmaster

He read and re-read the note, understanding the words but not knowing why they were written there before he realised what the time now was.

He was late!

"Bertie Bott's Beans"

Feeling foolish, he stepped onto the small platform in between the griffin's curled wings and spoke the name of the magical candy Crabbe and Goyle were so fond of. For a moment, nothing happened and he felt every inch a buffoon, only for the platform he was stood on to begin spinning upwards, raising him from the floor and slowly rotating him towards the Headmaster's Office as it rose into the air, coming to a complete stop in front of a solid set of double oak doors with a griffin knocker.

What's with all the griffin motifs?

I mean, other than the obvious show of favouritism?

He raised his hand in a fist and knocked three times in quick succession, before taking a respectful step back, taking a moment to remind himself that he needed to be extra-polite if it was the Headmaster himself who opened the door to him; wiping his hands on the seat of his trousers, he took a deep breath to calm himself as a voice called out, "Enter".

Needing to use both hands, Harry reached out and grasped the doo's handles, watching the griffin knocker break in half as he pushed the doors open, striding into the Headmaster's Office for the first time in his school career.

It would not be the last.

The office itself wasn't a big space like he'd imagined, but rather a small circular room. There was a spiral staircase at the back which no doubt ran the entire length of the Headmaster's tower, from the ground floor, right to the very top which was higher than anything else that wasn't the astronomy tower. He knew that if it were him, he would line the tower with private workrooms and libraries, as well as living space, and he couldn't help but be curious about what the Headmaster had stored within.

Dozens of small enchanted portraits of the school's previous Headmasters lined much of the wall space, each one had a small bronze plaque beneath, which listed their full name and their years of service beneath them. Several of the portraits were asleep, dozing in their frames - an action which still surprised him to see - but even more of them were empty, their residents having decided to visit a frame elsewhere, and only a handful still held their occupants as they lingered about, chatting between themselves about nothing in particular, simply there to gossip and advise the current Headmaster with their wisdom of days past.

Outdated fools.

Blinking slowly, Harry shook his head clear.

A few pedestals seemed to litter the floor, with no real pattern to them, each one seeming to house a different instrument which Harry couldn't recognise. Everything appeared to be a mystery to him, except for one thing, the sight of which caused him to freeze in shock.

To the right of the door, there was a shelf that was dedicated to housing a single wooden perch, upon which stood a regal red and gold bird, who's black, beady eyes swept over to him, lingering on his face. The bird's head moved from side-to-side, seeming to assess him, before it cawed softly at him, a single note that caused a warm feeling to spread through his veins, settling somewhere in his chest.

No way… that's a-

"So it appears that Fawkes likes you", at the sound of a brief chuckle, Harry span around to find the Headmaster sat at his desk, resting his bearded chin on steepled fingers, looking like the Dursleys worst nightmare decked out in bright purple robes that had yellow stars sewn into them, which at second glance appeared to be moving. That, combined with his silver beard and half-moon spectacles gave off an impression so magical that, for a moment, he wondered what exactly what would the reaction be if he plonked the Headmaster onto the middle of the Dursley's sofa during dinner; he imagined Uncle Vernon's reaction would be rather magnificent, and smiled to himself as the Headmaster continued speaking.

"I'm so glad he seems to like you, I have always found him to be a rather excellent judge of character", he gestured towards the chairs in front of them, "please join us. Would you care for a cup of tea?"

"No th-", and then the words became stuck in his throat as he realised that there were three other people already sat in the room, and what made him feel worse was that he already knew who they were.

Because sitting quietly opposite the Headmaster as they drank tea and pumpkin juice were James, Lily and Alexander Potter.

"So... you're just not a tea drinker at all then are you?"

"Erm… I guess not Sir"

Flitwick's eyes widened, "You guess? That's no way to live my dear boy. I'll soon change that", the tiny Charms Master offered him a tight-lipped smile as he looked slightly guilty, "I'm sorry, I'm interrupting, aren't I?"

"It's fine Sir"

"No - no it's not", he firmly stated, "Mister Potter, always remember that, like anything else I suppose, respect is a two-way street. If I interrupt you then what does that say about me, and my own level of respect for you? And if I do that, then you will find it much easier to do it to me in the future, and in that respect, I would have deserved it, and in that very same vein, I am sorry"

"Then you are forgiven Sir", he offered a small smile of his own which felt forced, and if the look on his teacher's face was anything to go by, then it was noticeable, "can I continue, I'd like to get to the end Sir"

"By all means then", the part-goblin leant back into his chair, trying to relax, "please, do go on"

"Right then…", he took a breath, "well-"

For a moment after the words died in his throat, his eyes flickered between the other three Potters seated in front of the Headmaster. He moved his gaze solely onto his brother as he felt James' eyes scanning him as they ran over the silver trim and green stitching of his robes, almost burning as they homed in on the serpent emblem he proudly had displayed on his chest.

Alex looked down as his eyes met with Harry's, whose own then narrowed in response, even as he made his way over towards the chair offered to him, sitting at the end of the desk, next to Alexander and as far away from James Potter and his gaze as was possible.

"Good evening Headmaster"

"Good evening Hadrian", the old man smiled benignly, "how are you this evening?"

"I'm fine thank you", he offered a polite smile back, "I'm sorry I'm late Sir, I was in the library when Lucan found me, but I did come straight here"

"That's quite alright, I had after all, only just finished pouring out our refreshments, are you sure you don't want one?" He offered again, but Harry simply shook his head in response, "Anyways, I suppose that you're wondering why I called you in here in the first place?"

"Well I don't imagine that it's every day that one of the first-year students gets called into the Headmaster's Office, is it?"

"No, it's honestly a shame that I don't get more chances to speak to you all but you're quite right", he chuckled, "but then again, I'm afraid this is more of a disciplinary matter than a simple meet and greet"

"Then shouldn't our Heads of Houses be here Sir? I thought I read that this was how meetings of this nature were supposed to work"

"Well with your parents and myself here it's not strictly necessary, but I can get them here if that would make you feel more comfortable"

James frowned at that, his eyes flicking back to his second son's robes, "I don't think that's needed-"

"I do", Harry interrupted, "I'd prefer Professor Snape be present"

"If you're sure Hadrian?"

"I am Sir"

"Well then, I suppose that it would only be right, given that they will at least be responsible for overseeing whatever punishment is agreed upon", he rose from his desk, "a moment please"

James' continued noises of disagreement went ignored by his youngest son and his former Headmaster as the latter threw some powder into the fireplace, turning the lowly burning orange flames into giant green ones, before sticking his head into it which then disappeared, seeming to melt into the floor.

"Severus Snape and James Potter in the same room", Flitwick chuckled as he took a sip of his tea, "something tells me that didn't end well, especially if Lily was there too"

"Oh?"

"Indeed- oh, well I suppose you wouldn't actually know, would you?"

"Know what, Professor?"

"James Potter and Severus Snape were, well I suppose rivals would be the best word for it. Both of them were excellent students in their own right, two of the best in their year, but the biggest source of their friction was the difference in their work ethic and the way they approached things"

He frowned, "What do you mean?"

He blew out a breath, "Well, it's no secret that James grew up in a completely magical household, surrounded by magic every day of his life, so when he finally came to Hogwarts he found everything easy to pick up, given that he was familiar with the basic concepts"

"And Professor Snape?"

"Professor Snape came from a household that was a bit more muggle than magical in nature, and as such he had to work a lot harder to grasp certain concepts, more so given that he was in Slytherin House, where I'm sure you know that only the best is accepted. Whereas James took something of a laid-back approach to his schooling, able to still score top grades on his natural ability alone, Severus had to work hard to get the same scores. Huh…"

"What is it?"

"It's just the situation reminds me of yourself and our other Mister Potter. Different households, different approaches to learning, both brilliant students in your own right, one from Gryffindor, one from Slytherin, but at least you two haven't progressed to trying to curse the other in the corridor at every turn"

"Not yet anyway"

The older wizard smiled sadly at him, in a way that was not un-Dumbledore-ish, and yes, after meeting the man, Harry was certain that 'Dumbledore-ish', should be a word, "Let us hope that it never comes to that"

Severus Snape was not a man who was accustomed to being called into the Headmaster's Office.

Even back in his days as a student he had been careful to avoid being called in there, knowing exactly what it could mean for him if either of his parents had to be called into the school.

Professor Slughorn, who had been the Head of Slytherin House at the time, had been the one to take over the supervision of all of the punishments for his own students, fearing that the level of outright hostility and violence towards his own students was only going to get worse, as the build-up to the war continued to escalate, and it was a practice that, after a great many arguments, he had managed to continue upon his succession to both, the Potion Master and Head of Slytherin House positions after his mentor's well-deserved retirement.

From therein, he had started every new school year by telling his newest batch of first years just what being called into the Headmaster's Office would entail for them, and from there he trusted their senses of self-preservation to keep them out of there.

Somehow, despite the boy's rather prodigious level of magical talent, he wasn't at all surprised to discover that it was James Potter's son who was the one to be called in.

Suppressing his urge to growl as the Headmaster's face disappeared from his fireplace, he snatched up his wand from where it was resting on his desk, dropping it into his robe's pocket as he stepped into the flames.

After a few moments and another drop of powder, Professor Dumbledore pulled his head back out of his fireplace and extinguished the flames behind him. Straightening back up, he vanished the soot and dust from his robes, and turning to look at the faces of his audience, he chuckled at the face of his Slytherin student.

"Floo powder Hadrian", he offered as an explanation, "a nifty little invention that enables magical travel between interconnected fireplaces with just a pinch of powder and the verbalisation of one's destination. Hogwarts had its own internal network several years ago, and it was later discovered by one of one of our own NEWT-level students a few years ago discovered that the powder would allow one to simply stick one's head into the fireplace instead of their full body, allowing for faster communication between people"

"Oh", he said, letting the word slip out, "it seems kind of…", he trailed off, looking for a word before he settled on, "dirty"

James made a strangled noise in his throat which went largely ignored as the Headmaster chuckled, taking his seat back, "Indeed, I rather suppose it is"

If he had anything more to say on the matter, he was cut off as the fireplace flared back up a bright green colour and Professor McGonagall stepped out, dressed in her usual emerald robes and black pointed hat. She took a brief moment to vanish the mess she'd created, before moving to stand behind James and Lily, and shooting the two boys suspicious looks.

"Good evening Minerva"

"Good evening Albus", she smiled fondly at him, more fondly than Harry had seen her look at anyone, "now, would you care to tell me what has transpired?"

Before he could answer, the fireplace grew brighter once and Professor Snape stepped out, dressed in his usual attire of a set of plain black robes combined with a white shirt, and with not a speck of dirt on them, despite his entrance, and Harry had to admit he was impressed. He immediately moved to stand firmly behind Harry's chair, gripping the back of it with his hands, his knuckles briefly scraping between his shoulder blades.

"And good evening to you too, Severus"

"Headmaster", he nodded in greeting, "you summoned me?"

"Indeed, I did Severus", he cast his eyes over the two young charges as he addressed his most trusted confidant, "I invited James and Lily up to the school for a pot of tea and a brief discussion on their sons' progress this year thus far", he caught a glimpse of a scowl darken the younger student's face before it disappeared, "and when I mentioned that they were both caught out of bounds several nights ago, they insisted on seeing them at once"

"Headmaster, if I may ask", despite the silk-laden tone, it was very clear that Professor Snape was not asking, "who was it that reported them out of bounds. I have received no such notice"

On Harry's left, he heard James mutter something incomprehensible, which caused his wife to not-so-subtly, elbow him in the ribs.

"I am sorry you didn't get the notice Severus, I do apologise, but it was I who caught them out of bounds"

Harry felt, rather than heard the Potion Master's grip tighten on the back on his chair in response to Professor Dumbledore's words, the knuckles of his hand sharply digging into the space between Harry's shoulder blades once again for a brief moment, "I see"

"Out of bounds" Professor McGonagall repeated, as her gaze focused in on her own student, "again?"

"Yes, well", the elderly wizard cleared his throat as he looked over the two of them, "as I was saying, their parents wished to see them, and as it is over a disciplinary measure, young Hadrian here requested that his Head of House also be present", his gaze shifted to his deputy, "and so Minerva, I also decided to give you the courtesy of the same option"

"Thank you Albus", as quickly as her gaze moved off of Alex, it was back on him, ending his very short relief, "I believe that both of you shall have twenty points removed from your respective Houses, and that you should both have two nights' detention, unless you have any objections Severus"

His own gaze bore into the back of Harry's head, who had, very wisely, chosen not to turn back around, "None".

She nodded her acceptance, "I also believe that my own house's Mister Potter shall serve an additional two detentions with Mister Filch, as this is now the second time I have caught you out of bounds"

"And that was the end of it then?"

"Not really Professor, no"

"Ah", he stood up on his chair, peering around Harry as he levitated the drinks tray around him and onto the desk. He poured a fresh cup of tea, before offering it to his student, "well before you continue, here, try this"

"Professor-"

"Just try it Mister Potter, and if you're not fond of the taste then that's fine, but you won't get anywhere in life if you don't at least try new things"

Swallowing the argument he'd been brewing in his mind, he smiled politely as he took the cup off of his favourite teacher and brought it to his lips. He took a small sip of it and was pleasantly surprised by the taste; it was difficult to describe but finished with a small taste of raspberry.

"Green tea with a hint of raspberry, a personal favourite of mine", he smiled as he took in the pleased face of his student, "your thoughts?"

"It's quite…"

"Yes…"

"…Fruity?"

The diminutive professor giggled, "Ah excellent, now, where were we?"

"What's going on here!?"

James all-but leapt to his feet as his face was torn between anger, confusion and the desire to pull his son to him played out on his face. They all pulled at him and as he took a step forward, Harry, moving in instinct, shoved away from the desk, slamming straight into the midsection of Professor Snape, whose left arm curled around his shoulder and the top of his chest, pinning him in place, even as the Headmaster stood up.

"Control yourself James!"

With his magic flaring out of him, the Headmaster's presence saturated the room, causing everyone's skin to itch as their magic pushed against it. Gone was the genial expression of the kindly and benevolent Headmaster seated at his desk, and in its place was the look of the man who had led the war against the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lords.

Everyone's breath hitched in their throats.

The oldest living Potter stuttered to a halt, swallowing as his wife placed her hand on his shoulder, guiding him back into his seat.

"Now", Dumbledore spoke as he retook his own seat, settling back into its comfortable-looking cushions as his face became serene once more, acting as though his raw power hadn't just dwarfed the rest of the room, "I believe you both wished to discuss your boys' performances this year?"

What followed James' outburst was by far the most uncomfortable parent-teacher meeting that Harry had ever undergone.

With the Dursleys, Harry had an understanding of how things would go at these meetings. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would take himself and Dudley with them to the school, making sure that they were both dressed in their school uniforms.

They would always start with Dudley's teacher first, taking all the time they needed to get every bit of information they could. Reports of him being behind in his subjects went largely ignored, and later, in the privacy of their home, Uncle Vernon would scoff and refute that the teacher 'didn't know what they were talking about anyway'. The bullying incidents were usually attributed to firm bouts of character building, with a polite face in public and a lack of care at home, and attempts at discussing Dudley's home life in regards to his health, particularly his weight, were rebuffed with all of the disdain Aunt Petunia was willing to show in public.

After everything was finally done with, they would all move across the hall and into Harry's classroom, were the teacher had nothing but praise about his performance in class. They reported that they thought someone was trying to bully him, that he spent large amounts of time in the library, and that they had similar concerns about his weight that they did Dudley's, only with him, they thought he had the opposite problem.

They could stand there and do the polite thing, smile and shake hands and look concerned while they were in public, but once they were behind closed doors was when it changed.

That was when kind words were changed for darker actions.

Kind smiles became fists and even belts. Smiles of pride were replaced by his yells of pain and silent prayers that went unanswered.

They always went unanswered.

After that, he would allow the darkness would overtake him, even if it was just for a moment's relief, it took control. And so did his pain, and his anger, and the loneliness-

"You can stop Mister Potter-"

The professor laid a hand on his shoulder, jerking him out of mind and back into reality as he realised his voice was locked in his throat. His vision was gone and his fists were clenched tightly, drawing blood from his palms, and everything else was wrong and blurred. His hand flew to his face, searching for his glasses but they were still there.

And then he realised, he was crying.

When was the last time he cried?

I can't remember.

He swiped at his face furiously, trying to dry his face against the onslaught of water that just wouldn't stop; all he ended up doing was smearing a bit of his blood over his cheeks. He felt a handkerchief being thrust into his hands as hands rubbed at his back.

Merlin, what's wrong with me?

"-ere, there my boy, it's alright, you're safe here"

"Sorry", he choked out, trying to contain, "I don't-"

"Don't apologise Harry", Flitwick's voice was harsh, harsher than he intended, and he dialled it back, "this isn't your fault and you have nothing to be sorry for"

"But I-"

"But nothing Mister Potter", the tiny Charms Professor tried to guide him out of his chair, "I think you should-"

"No", he spat the word out and then swallowed as his chest continued to heave and take heavy breaths, "I want to finish"

Looking for all the world that he disagreed, Professor Flitwick sat back down, but not before dropping a glass of water in front of him, and foregoing his manners entirely, he drank from it greedily, slurping it down.

"Right then Mister Potter, if you'd like to continue whenever you're ready"

All three members of the Potter Family beamed as Alexander's quidditch skills were mentioned and the discussion moved to their upcoming game against Hufflepuff.

From where he had moved to stand next to the Headmaster, Harry caught Professor Snape's eyes, who smirked as Harry rolled his own at the constant praise.

"Do you like to play Harry?"

"Hadrian", he corrected his mother instantly, watching as she raised an eyebrow at Alexander, who had mouthed the word along with him, expecting the rebuttal to come, "and no, no I don't"

"Oh"

"How can you not like quidditch!?"

Once again, his father looked caught between a low anger and confusion, and for his part, Harry could've sworn he saw sadness mixed in there too, but it mattered little to him as he answered, keeping his voice calm and level, "I didn't say I didn't like it"

"You just-"

"I don't like to play it", out of the corner of his eye, the school's Potion Master smirked as James floundered for a moment, "but I don't mind watching it"

His father sounded lost, "You don't mind-"

"It's just a game after all"

Both of the male Potters spluttered for a moment, and that time, even Lily had to hide a smile.

"So, Harry- Hadrian", Lily corrected herself, "are you enjoying school so far?"

"Yes"

"Is Slytherin House treating you well?"

"Yes", across from them, Professor Snape stiffened at the implication, his nose twitching in irritation. Lily paused long enough to send him a half-hearted apologetic look, which he returned with a blank stare and a raised eyebrow.

"Are there any school clubs you're a part of?"

"No"

"School teams? One of the societies? Maybe-"

"No, no and probably not"

Lily nodded, growing frustrated with her son's single-worded, uninterested answers, "So, what do you do for fun?"

"I read", he blew out a puff of breath, boredom had long since passed him by, and he chose to ignore Alexander's snicker, "and I spend some of my time training"

"Training? Is that", for the first time since he'd arrived, James Potter actually looked more interested in his second son than the floor or the wall, "for the Duelling Tournament?"

"Yes"

"I knew my sons would both be duellists", he grinned as he leant back in his chair, "Alex will be competing too you know?"

"You know, somehow I had managed to guess as much"

Behind him, Professor Snape gave a single, sharp cough into his sleeve, ignoring the disapproving look that Professor McGonagall levelled him with.

"Yeah, well", the older man ruffled his already messy hair, ignoring the Potions Master altogether, "there'll be a bit of an advantage, I mean he knows a few of my auror tips and tricks. I'd imagine anyone competing with parents that work in the DMLE will know a few, but you'll be okay, won't you?"

"As long as you're okay with your son taking second place"

James grinned again, "Believe me, I'd be more than fine with you doing that well"

"Actually, I was talking about Alexander", he smirked as he straightened in his chair, "I'm planning on winning the whole thing outright"

"Yeah, well I mean", he shuffled on his chair, "is that realistic?"

"James!"

Twin shouts of his name startled him long enough to let the front legs of his chair fall back to the ground with an audible 'thump'. He looked chagrined by what he had just said, and offered a muttered, "Sorry Harry", in response, looking pained for a moment, "I didn't mean it like that"

"Hadrian"

Again, Alex mouthed the word as his brother spoke.

"Headmaster, I believe we've covered everything pertinent for now", Professor Snape spoke as he moved to stand beside his own student, laying a hand on his shoulder, "but I'm afraid that it's already past curfew and I deplore giving special treatment to students. It's past time I had Mister Potter returned to his dormitory. I refuse to allow him of all people be given special treatment on account of his surname"

"But-"

"I'm feeling quite drained", Harry said, cutting his mother's protests off at the start, "and I missed dinner while I was in the library and I think I'd like to get to bed as early as possible tonight"

"Of course, Hadrian", the Headmaster smiled lightly at him, ahis eyes flicking to the school's Potions Master from behind his half-moon spectacles, tightening in a way that was almost amused, "I would like to wish you both a goodnight"

"Goodnight Headmaster", he offered back, before he swept his eyes over the rest of them as he walked away, "Professor, Mother, Father, Alexander"

"Goodnight"

"'Night"

"Later bro"

"Wait! Could we-"

Lily's words fell on deaf ears, as both Professor and student were already gone, seeming to vanish from the top of the stairs.

"Well", Dumbledore said, looking at the space they had just vacated as he picked up his teacup to drink what little lukewarm liquid was remained, "with all things considered, I think that went rather well"

"So… in the end", Professor Flitwick set his empty cup down as he spoke, "you just left"

"Merlin, I just felt so- so angry looking at them", he confessed, his grip on the teacup had turned his knuckles white and his teacher moved to gently extract it from him before it shattered in his hands, "I just didn't know what else to do"

"I see"

"Do you?"

"I do", the Charms Master levelled him with a look, "do remember that I am part-goblin, it's why I'm so small and also why people think that they can look down on me, well other than my actual size of course"

Harry didn't laugh.

"Either way, I know what it feels like to have people make assumptions of you before anything has even happened"

"Sorry"

"It's quite alright, now I assume you're aware that as they have control of your guardianship, you are set to return to your muggle relatives in the summer?"

"Yeah, I know-"

"Do you truly want to go back there?"

"I won't go to the Potters", he grit his teeth, "I won't, and that's my only other option"

Sensing his inevitable defeat, he decided to let the argument settle for now, knowing that no matter what, he was not going to let one of his students return to somewhere that evoked such a distressing reaction from him, "Alright then Mister Potter, let's forget about that for now"

"Alright"

"What is it that you want to learn from me in these proposed duelling lessons?"

"The stuff that I can't from the books"

"Oh? Such as…"

"I can read about tactics, but I need to learn how they really work. I know some spells, but I don't know how to move quickly enough from one to another. I want to push myself further, but I'm not one of those people who can just read about something and then do it"

"An autodidact"

"Yes! I think... my point is that I need to spend time on it, or have a teacher who can give me a few tips on how to improve"

"I see… well then", he smiled warmly, "let's see what we can do together"

Harry's eyes widened behind his glasses, "So, you'll do it? You'll teach me?"

"Yes", the professor nodded to himself, "yes I will, but be warned", he pointed a finger at the young boy, who straightened up, "if you want to do this, it'll be hard-"

"That's fine"

"-I'm going to push you-"

"That's what I want"

"-and we won't just stop after the tournament"

"Wait, what?"

Flitwick resisted the urge to laugh at the confused look on his student's face, which was a very rare sight indeed, if the last few months were any indication, "Yes, I think you have great potential and capacity for learning, and I will continue to push you until the year ends, and if you're willing, further beyond that"

"Like an apprentice?"

"Of an unofficial sort, yes. I'm afraid that with my position as a Hogwarts Professor, my contract prevents me from taking on any apprentices of my own without serious penalties on my end; not to mention, you'd also need to be at least fifteen years old before you'd even be legally allowed to be considered for one by a Master, but I would be failing as an educator if I did not do all in my power to help cultivate such promising raw talent"

Something inside of Harry clicked at that moment as the Charms Master offered his hand to shake, sealing the agreement.

Reaching out, Harry grasped the hand between his, shaking it firmly, and did his best to smile, "When do we start?"

It was on the third Monday of January that Professor Dumbledore made the announcement everyone had been waiting for.

After a day full of lessons, the prefects were made to herd everyone into the Great Hall for dinner, with people all across the hall shooting the school's Headmaster looks, trying to see just when he was going to be finished eating.

Eventually the dishes and drinks faded away, the school falling into a hushed silence as the Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet, making his way around his staff to the front of the table where he instantly commanded everyone's attention with a brilliant smile on his face.

"Good evening everyone", his gaze swept across the room, "I trust that you have all now had enough time to get settled back into your classes and that you all had an enjoyable holiday season"

There were a few hushed responses as people offered answers, not that they could be heard and nor did it discouraged the Headmaster, who continued to smile at them all, "Now, if we can get to what I'm sure you're all excited to be here for, this year's, that is, the 1992 Hogwarts Duelling Tournament"

His words were greeted by applause and a few cheers, causing the old man's smile to grow even wider as he waited for everyone to settle back down.

"Now", he began, instantly quieting the room, "I am sure that many of you have read up on the tournament and the different variations that it has held. I am now going to outline the rules, and what you can each expect to see"

With a wave of his wand, he conjured up four images of each of the house crests behind him, "Each year will have the option to submit four participants for their house. That is two wizards and two witches apiece, each of which will compete in a sixteen-person bracket elimination tournament beginning in February, until we have just two participants remaining. These will be known as the preliminary rounds, and for the First Years, they will take place on the second Saturday of the month. For the Second Years, it will take place on the Sunday. The Third and Fourth Years will have the next weekend, the Fifth and Sixth will have the weekend after, and our Seventh-Year students will have the final Saturday and the First Sunday of March to themselves. School clubs of course, will not be able to penalise members for their absences on these days, in fact, I recommend that they be cancelled"

He paused long enough for the students who carried calendars and diaries to whip them out. Excited whispers broke out as people conferred over the dates and the wizard at the front of the hall waited for silence once more.

"First and Second Years will take part in three round matches. Third Year matches will have five rounds. Fourth Years will have nine rounds to compete in, and our Fifth, Sixth and Seventh Years will have the international standard of thirteen rounds to compete in. For our Fourth-Year students and below, International Third-Class Duelling Rules will be in effect, for our Fifth and Sixth Years, the competition shall be held under the Second-Class Regulations, and for our Seventh-Year students, the First Class rules will be followed, though I must stress caution with the level of spells these rules permit, and I will also take this moment to inform you that copies of all rulebooks may be found in the school library"

Yet another wave of excited mutterings was set off as students began to discuss the rules, and some of the staff grew visibly irritated at the constant interruptions to the Headmaster. Professor Snape held his wand up, letting it emit a loud bang like a gunshot, the shock of it instantly silencing everyone.

"Thank you for that Professor Snape, and now that we have all that out of the way, we should discuss the finals. The final two participants from each year will face each other on the last Sunday in April, that is the twenty-sixth for those of you that are unaware, and it is on that day when we will determine the winners and runners-up of each individual year group. Each first place student will be awarded thirty points to their house, plus an additional number based on their ranking, that is to say that to begin with, our first year student winner will be awarded forty points and our second year student fifty and so on and so forth, up to one hundred points for our Seventh Year student, however the winners will then be allowed to challenge the others and climb the rankings, changing places and potentially gaining more points for their houses"

Once again, the murmuring in the room grew, causing Professor Snape to emit a second blast from his wand, giving Professor Dumbledore control of the room once again, "Now, today is Monday, and you will have until Friday morning to decide which of you will be competing, so take your time and discuss it amongst yourselves. A second announcement will be made after Friday's evening meal regarding the matches you can expect to see - now, I've talked long enough, go on, off to bed with all of you, and goodnight!"