Potter: A History

Piccolo999

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 28/01/2010
Last Updated: 22/04/2011
Status: in_progress

See the history of my AU Harry Potter story, how Harry was sorted into Slytherin, his friendship with Draco Malfoy, and everything else that happens during his first five years at Hogwarts. While not included in this fic: future pairings are H/Hr, DM/GW, RW/LL. PREQUEL TO MY STORIES - AU: YEAR SIX AND YEAR OF DISCORD.

Chapters

1. 1: Beginnings

2. 2: The Truth

3. Diagon Alley

4. 4: Musings and the Hogwarts Express

5. 5: Sorting

6. 6: Unwelcome and Professor Snape

7. 7: Reflections

8. 8: The First Week

9. 9: I Can Fly

10. 10: Mountain Troll and Aftermath

11. 11: Remembrall

12. 12: A Father's Command

13. 13: Christmas In Slytherin

14. 14: Duplicitous Friendship

15. 15: Late Night Conversations

16. 16: Truest Desire

17. 17: Slytherin Honour

18. 18: Confrontations

19. The Heart of Things

20. Sum of the Year

21. Potter's Secrets

22. Dark Discussions

23. A Very Dursley Summer

24. Back To Hogwarts

25. Home Sweet Home

26. Progress Towards Friendship?

1. 1: Beginnings

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

A/N: This is the first one-shot in a series that will cover the history of my Alternate Universe Harry story. For those who have read them, and are waiting for the next chapter for Year of Discord, I promise it will be coming soon. The reason I’ve been gone so long is because my computer died and I’ve only just got a new one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think.

Potter: A History

Beginnings

Harry Potter hated his life.

Ever since his parents had died in a car crash when he was only one-year-old he had been forced to live with his Aunt and Uncle, and they had no love for him. Harry suspected it had something to do with all the strangeness that surrounded his existence. They blamed him for the odd things that happened, so Harry figured it must be his fault, even though he had no control over them – they just happened.

His cousin Dudley picked up on the way his parents treated Harry (with casual neglect and off-hand abuse) and emulated them. Many a time had Harry locked himself in his bedroom (really just a cupboard under the stairs), nursing a bloody nose and lamenting his broken spectacles, while outside Dudley banged noisily on the door until he just got bored and went away.

Harry would cry silently, loathing himself for his weakness. At those times he could almost feel something, dark and malicious, bubbling inside his body, but unable to break free, it would trickle harmlessly out and frizzle away. That power scared Harry, maybe even more than he feared his cousin’s meaty fists.

What made it all worse was that he knew he deserved it. That evil inside him was proof of it. It was why his Aunt, Uncle and Dudley all hated him. It was why no one ever tried to save him. And so he would lie in his cupboard and cry.

He was evil and he deserved everything he got, and it was all he could ever hope for –a life of scorn, as hatred devoured him. There was no hope for Harry Potter.

At ten years old he had come to accept that. He moved through life, kept his head down as much as possible, and got on with it. He had considered committing suicide, but he was too cowardly to ever follow through.

Now he was almost eleven, the minutes ticking by, nearing the midnight marker that would usher in another pointless year. He lay on the hard wooden floor of the shack and stared gloomily at the wall as the wind howled outside.

How had he come to be here?

The letter. He didn’t even dare consider its contents, but he was curious. What would drive his uncle to such extremes as this? It must be bad, he thought, to justify this madness. Of course it’s bad, it’s addressed to me. He almost laughed at his own dour thoughts, but Harry never laughed. He’d learnt to keep his mouth shut, to move without drawing attention to himself, and to never, ever show even the slightest sign of amusement.

Shaking his head morosely, he glanced at his snoring cousin, who was stretched out on the musty sofa, and then over to the clock on the wall.

He counted down the seconds in his head.

Three.

Two.

One.

BANG!

2. 2: The Truth

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

A/N: Here is the next part. One more to go.

Potter: A History

The Truth

BANG!

The door of the cabin shook thunderously. Harry stared with wide eyes as his aunt and uncle rushed into the room. Uncle Vernon clutched a large gun tightly.

‘Go away!’ he shouted, his hands holding the gun and trembling. ‘I’m armed!’

The door shook one last time, and then the banging stopped.

Harry surveyed the room. Dudley had pulled his blanket up almost over his head, as if to hide, his eyes bulging over the top. Aunt Petunia hid her tiny form behind Uncle Vernon’s considerable girth. They all looked fearfully at the door.

For a moment Harry thought it was over. He was left feeling strangely disappointed. Whatever evil lurked outside, he had been hoping would do the job he was too cowardly to do himself. No matter how terrifying it might be, at least it would be over.

But when the banging stopped, Harry thought Uncle Vernon’s threat had worked, and scared it away. His uncle shot him a baleful glance, and Harry lowered his eyes in shame. He knew he was responsible for all of this. He had brought this trouble to his uncle’s family.

Then there came another bang, this one even louder, and the door came crashing to the ground. Aunt Petunia screamed. Dudley let out a little whimper. Uncle Vernon pointed his gun.

A large shape stood in the doorway.

Harry got slowly to his feet, his green eyes transfixed as the shape moved. It ducked to enter the room and then stooped to easily pick up the door and fit it back into place. When the shape turned back to face the room, Harry gaped.

A giant stood before him. Harry had to crane his neck to see its face, lost amidst a tangle of hair. All he could see were the giant’s bottomless black eyes. Harry couldn’t move as the giant took in the room, his frightening eyes moving from person to person until he found Harry. Those terrible eyes met his with only a brief flick as they took in his scar, the only souvenir of his parent’s car crash.

Suddenly the giant smiled. Harry couldn’t see it, the giants beard was so immense, but he could feel it. The giant’s eyes lit up and sparkled with warmth.

‘’Arry Potter!’ The giant spoke his name with a booming voice.

Harry didn’t reply, though his mind raced with questions. How did this giant know him? What did he want? Instead he only stared questioningly.

‘O’ course, yeh don’t remember me. My name is Rubeus Hagrid. Yeh can call me Hagrid. I ain’t seen yeh since yeh was a baby.’

‘That’s enough!’ Uncle Vernon made his presence known, thrusting his gun at the giant man – Rubeus Hagrid. ‘I warned you! We don’t want anything to do with this funny business, so I suggest you leave and never bother us again, or something bad might happen.’

The giant called Hagrid laughed, before grabbing the gun, yanking it out of Uncle Vernon’s hands, and turning it into a pretzel within moments. He handed the twisted weapon back to Harry’s uncle.

‘Listen to me yeh great prune,’ Hagrid boomed ominously, ‘yeh have ten seconds to clear out of this room, or something bad really will happen.’ The giant almost seemed to grow in size as he spoke these threat filled words. Harry watched in amazement as his uncle cowered away. Aunt Petunia motioned for Dudley to follow and the Dursleys retreated.

Harry was left alone with Hagrid.

‘Ah,’ Hagrid let out a contented sound as he sat on the sofa Dudley had vacated. He pointed a pink umbrella Harry hadn’t noticed before at the fireplace and suddenly a fire roared to life. Harry blinked, as if his eyes must have deceived him, but somehow knowing they hadn’t. Hagrid began to empty his pockets, pulling out a packet of sausages and poker. He began to cook the sausages in the open fire.

‘Oh,’ Hagrid began rummaging in another pocket, ‘I’ve got something for yeh here. Hang on. Here it is.’ Hagrid offered him a slightly squashed box. ‘Happy birthday Harry. Sorry if it’s a bit squished.’

Harry stared at the proffered package in distrust. Was this a trick?

‘Go on,’ Hagrid urged with a laugh. ‘It’s yours.’

Harry took it and opened it cautiously. It was a birthday cake with “Happy Birthday Harry” written on it with icing. A birthday cake for him? Who was this giant? And what the hell was going on? Harry put the cake aside and stared at the stranger who seemed to know him. Hagrid looked back with warm eyes.

‘I bet yeh have a’lotta questions fer me.’

Harry shrugged, not taking his eyes off the giant. While no longer afraid, he still didn’t understand what was going on, and until he did he would keep silent. This was just Harry’s way of dealing with things. A life of neglect and abuse had created an extremely cautious, introverted child.

Hagrid frowned. ‘Yeh can speak, can’t yeh?’

‘Yup,’ was all Harry would say.

‘Then why doncha?’

Harry shrugged again.

‘Are yeh afraid of me, ‘arry? Yeh have no reason to be, I’m a friend.’

‘I’m not afraid.’

‘Do yeh want to know why I’m here?’

‘I know,’ Harry said slowly. ‘The letter,’ he answered Hagrid’s unasked question.

‘Right,’ Hagrid said, reaching into his coat. ‘Yer letter.’ He pulled a folded parchment envelope out of his coat and presented it to Harry, who stepped forward to take it.

Harry held the letter that had eluded him for weeks. Inside was the answer to why his uncle had dragged him out to this desolate place, but not just that. Harry felt like this letter would explain everything – all the strangeness of his life. Harry knew the letter contained the truth.

‘Go ahead,’ Hagrid urged gently, ‘open it.’

Without another thought, Harry tore open the envelope. He unfolded the letter and as he read, his disbelief became more and more pronounced.

A school for witches and wizards?

Hogwarts?

What – the – hell?

He turned his disbelieving expression upon Hagrid. The giant took in Harry’s face and his open eyes saddened.

‘Then yeh really don’t know?’

‘Know what?’

‘I was warned, but I didn’t really believe it. How could yeh not know…’

‘Know what?’ Harry repeated.

‘Yer a wizard Harry.’

And suddenly everything made sense. He knew it was true. The odd occurrences, the reason his family hated him, the evil inside him. It was this power. It was because he was a wizard.

‘Yer the son of James and Lily Potter. Two of the greatest wizard kind had to offer.’

My parents as well? Harry thought.

‘Maybe I shouldn’t be the one to tell yeh, but yeh need to know. Harry, yer special, more special than most wizards. The last time I saw yeh, well, yeh was only a baby. I saved yeh, see. It was right after… how do I say this? See Harry, not all wizards are as good as yer parents. Some of them are evil, and probably the most evil wizard in recent history, he had it out for yer parents. I don’t know why, but the day he killed them, he tried to kill you too.’

Harry could feel his heart beat rise as he listened to Hagrid with rapt attention.

My parents were murdered? They didn’t die in a car crash? Of course they didn’t. He raised his hand to finger his scar.

‘Yeh, he gave you that. No one knows why, but when he tried to kill you, he failed. Something about you stumped him, and no one has seen him since. Most think he’s gone, but I don’t believe that. Not him.’

Harry’s body shook. ‘Who was he?’ he whispered.

‘Well, no one really knows for sure. His history is shrouded in shadow. All I know is that he went to Hogwarts too. He was a member of Slytherin House.’

‘His name?’

‘He called himself… I don’t like to say it. People still fear him even now. They say if you say his name, he can find you. It’s bad luck.’

‘Please,’ Harry begged. ‘I have to know.’

‘Alright.’ Hagrid gave in. He took a deep breath. ‘Lord Voldemort. That’s what he called himself.’

‘Voldemort.’

‘Don’t say it!’

Harry nodded that he understood.

‘So now yeh know. I’m to take yeh to Diagon Alley in the mornin’. To get yer things.’

Harry nodded again, deep in thought. They sat silently for a while as Hagrid finished cooking the sausages. After eating a few, Hagrid spoke again.

‘Anythin’ else yeh’d like to know?’

Harry swallowed a bit of sausage and then shook his head, even though he was full of questions. Too many questions.

‘Best get some sleep then.’

Harry led back down on the floor. He closed his eyes, but had no notion of sleeping.

‘Oh, and ‘Arry? Happy Birthday.’

Soon after, Harry heard Hagrid begin to snore.

3. Diagon Alley

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

A/N: Okay, I’ve actually revised this chapter a little. You might want to re-read the last part (the bit when Hagrid finds Harry again). The reason for this is because I feel I didn’t really explain Harry’s actions well enough. When I read it back, it just wasn’t clear, and I also found several spelling mistakes, which I’ve corrected as well.

Potter: A History

Diagon Alley

Harry didn’t get much sleep.

He’d been awake for almost an hour when Hagrid gave a grunt and rolled over.

‘Alright Harry?’

‘Fine,’ Harry replied. ‘When do we leave?’

Hagrid gave another grunt as he hauled himself up. ‘Right away, I s’pose.’

Harry stood up expectantly.

‘Finish those sausages,’ Hagrid said with a gesture. ‘No sense wasting them. Or leaving them for that cousin of yers.’

Harry almost smiled as he picked up the remaining sausages – cold now, but still good.

They left the hut behind as Hagrid led Harry to the boat the Dursleys used to reach the island.

‘We’ll take this back.’

Harry wondered how Hagrid had got to the island last night (there was no other boat), but he didn’t ask. He just watched as Hagrid climbed in and then followed.

Hagrid held up his umbrella. ‘Don’t tell anyone. I’m not s’posed to use magic. Strictly speaking.’ He tapped the umbrella against the side of the boat and they began to move.

An owl came fluttering down onto the bow of the boat halfway to the shore. It dropped a newspaper and held out a leg.

Harry watched curiously as Hagrid pulled a few odd looking coins from the pocket of his coat and seemingly pay the tiny owl. After the owl flew away, Hagrid picked up the paper and glanced at the silent Harry, as if waiting for the questions to start. When Harry said nothing, he opened the paper and began to read.

They travelled in silence to the harbour, then all the way to the train station that would take them to London. Hagrid seemed to grow more uncomfortable with each passing moment. Finally, he became so uncomfortable he began to fill the silence.

‘We’re going to the Leaky Cauldron first. It’s a pub that will take us to Diagon Alley.’

When Harry made no comment, Hagrid went on doggedly.

‘Diagon Alley is the best place to shop for magical goods, and it also has the only bank wizard kind has – Gringotts. We’ll go there next and get yer money from yer parents vault.’

My parent’s vault? My parent’s money? My money?

So much was happening, it was hard to take it all in, but Harry had a quick mind and was determined to remember it all. He’d spent the majority of his time at Privet Drive locked in his cupboard studying books from the library. After all, what else was he to do? After having spent so much time with his nose in a book, it became easy for him to retain information.

Hagrid continued to chatter all the way to the Leaky Cauldron. He talked about all sorts – Goblins, Dragons, the Houses at Hogwarts (Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff), his game keeping duties and his dog Fang. He even went so far as to mention a secret mission to Gringotts to pick up a package for the Headmaster of Hogwarts – a man named Dumbledore.

When they finally reached the Leaky Cauldron, Harry found himself standing outside a very non-descript pub.

Hagrid ushered him inside. He shared a quick greeting with the bartender, but when he mentioned Harry, the entire pub became instantly silent.

‘Dear lord,’ Harry heard someone whisper, ‘it’s Harry Potter.’

His name was repeated several times in open astonishment.

The bartender (Tom, Harry remembered that was what Hagrid had called him) rushed forward to take Harry’s hand and vigorously shake it. Harry stiffened at the unwelcome contact and snatched his hand back. Tom didn’t seem to notice as he rambled on about how honoured he was.

Soon he was surrounded, being struck on the back good naturedly, having his hand seized over and over again. One old woman even stooped to kiss his forehead. No one seemed to notice that his body had frozen. Nor did they notice how uncomfortable he looked.

Then the crowd seemed to break and another figure approached, this one a turbaned young wizard. He smiled nervously at Harry and stammered an introduction. When he offered his hand and Harry didn’t take it, an odd expression crossed his face, but it was gone before Harry could recognise it.

Hagrid came to the rescue. ‘We’d best be off. Lots to do.’ Before anyone could object, Hagrid propelled Harry across the room and out the back door. ‘Sorry ‘bout that,’ he apologised. ‘They’re just happy to see yeh. Yer quite famous, yeh know.’

Hagrid again waited hopefully for a response. When he didn’t get one, he sighed, and said, ‘I won’t be mad if yeh ask questions. I’m sure yeh must have many.’

Eventually, Harry shrugged.

‘Harry,’ Hagrid said patiently, ‘I’m not them Dursleys. Maybe they don’t like yeh talking, but here in the wizarding world, well, we want yeh to speak. We need it. Yeh don’t have to be afraid. Yeh can’t go yer entire life just nodding and shrugging.’

Hagrid waited.

‘I know,’ Harry said.

‘Then speak, please.’

‘Why do you care if I talk or not?’

Hagrid regarded him closely, clearly at a loss for words. When he regained his wits, he said, ‘I knew yer parents very well. It may seem strange to you, but I held yeh when yeh was just a baby, and I care about yeh a great deal Harry.’

‘Oh,’ was all Harry said in response.

Hagrid closed his eyes, clearly pained over Harry’s lacklustre reply.

‘Well, I guess we should get going,’ he finally spoke.

Harry nodded instinctively. Hagrid touched his umbrella to one of the bricks on the wall at the back of the yard. The wall gave way to reveal Diagon Alley in all its wondrous glory. Harry followed Hagrid down the street, taking it all in, but also mulling over the giants earlier heartfelt words.

Was it truly possible that someone actually cared about him? The thought awoke strange, never before felt feelings in Harry, which he didn’t know how to explain or handle. The idea that someone could care for him was so foreign that he just didn’t know the rational response. Did he say thank you?

Evan as Harry was puzzling over this new development; his eyes were absorbing all the wonder and magic of Diagon Alley.

There was a shop for Cauldrons and a pet shop called Eeylops Owl Emporium. Then what looked like a shop selling broomsticks, with several boys outside who looked extremely excited by the fact. It seemed like Diagon Alley had a shop for everything, no matter how stupid it might seem to anyone not a wizard or witch.

Hagrid led him all the way to Gringotts. Outside, Harry got his first look at a real live Goblin. Inside, he found a lot more, some shorter than others, some rounder, but all unmistakably Goblins.

As Hagrid talked with one of the Goblins, Harry scanned the large marble room. It was simply amazing, like a set form a fantasy movie - but none of this was fake.

Another Goblin was summoned to escort them to their destination. First they called at Harry’s vault. Hagrid explained all about the foreign money, and Harry was gob smacked by the sheer amount he was seemingly worth. Could he really be this well off?

After retrieving enough money, the Goblin took them to the next, and final, vault. Hagrid picked up a simple looking package and then they made their way back to the surface. Harry didn’t say anything, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that package was the secret mission Hagrid had alluded to before.

When they emerged back onto Diagon Alley, Hagrid said, ‘phew, I hate those Gringotts carts. Mind if I get a drink at the Leaky Cauldron while you pick up yer robes?’

‘Sure,’ Harry said.

‘Madam Malkin’s is right there,’ Hagrid replied with relief, pointing across the street.

Harry entered the shop alone.

A short witch Harry assumed was Madam Malkin accosted him before he even closed the door.

‘Hogwarts dear?’

Harry nodded.

‘Follow me.’

She escorted him to the back of the store, were another boy was being fitted. She went to help him on the adjacent stool, but Harry beat her to it and climbed up. He glanced at the boy next to him as Madam Malkin went to work. The boy met his look. He had a pale face, grey eyes, and the strangest silvery hair.

‘Hello,’ the boy said. ‘Hogwarts too?’

Harry gave his customary reply – a short nod.

‘Any idea what house you’ll be in?’

Harry shook his head in response. He was really growing tired of people asking him questions. It was a lot easier to deflect attention from himself when nobody really wanted to speak to him, but here in the wizarding world it was all different. Nobody knew him and nobody knew they shouldn’t be talking to him. He decided to try a different approach.

‘You?’ Harry asked, hoping to encourage the boy to talk more about himself, and thus ask less questions.

‘Slytherin.’ The boy’s reply was instantaneous. ‘All my family have been in Slytherin, so of course I’ll be as well. It’s the only real house to be in, isn’t it. All the others are a joke. I suppose Ravenclaw isn’t all bad, but its no Slytherin.’

Harry got the impression the boy was repeating what someone else had told him.

‘Play Quidditch?’

‘No,’ Harry said.

‘I do,’ the boy said haughtily. ‘I think it’s so stupid first years aren’t allowed to play for their house, don’t you?’

Harry was saved from having to reply. The witch working on the silver haired boy announced she was finished and he hopped down.

‘Guess I’ll see you at Hogwarts.’

‘Draco!’ This came from over by the door, where an older man who was clearly the boys father stood, looking extremely impatient. ‘Enough gossiping. Come on.’

‘Yes father,’ the boy Draco replied meekly, his attitude taking a complete turn. He quickly walked over to his father, who paid the other witch and then propelled Draco out of the shop with a shove.

Five minutes later and Madam Malkin was finished. He paid her for the robes and excited the shop. Hagrid wasn’t back from the pub yet, so Harry decided to consult his letter to see what else he needed. There was a long list of books, so Harry decided to get those first.

He quickly located the shop – Flourish and Blotts - and began to browse. He found all of the books on his list, but didn’t stop there. He was looked at a book on Curses when one of the shop assistants approached him.

‘What you doing looking at those?’ he admonished. ‘They’re not for kids. Come on now.’

Harry put the book back. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, as the wizard made to walk away, ‘where can I find books on Voldemort?’

The man nearly jumped out of his skin. ‘Shh! What do you want books like that for?’

‘I’m just interested, that’s all,’ Harry said, trying to be casual.

The shop assistant frowned at him. ‘Books like that aren’t for children either. I’ll show you to our kiddie section.’

Harry was getting tired of this man’s patronizing, but he tried to remain calm. He needed those books. ‘I don’t want kids books.’

‘Then I suggest you pay for those’ – he pointed to the books already in Harry’s arms – ‘and forget all about You-Know-Who. I’ll ring them up for you.’ The man grabbed the books right out of Harry’s hands and took them to the counter. Harry was forced to follow. He paid for the books and then left the shop, feeling disappointed.

‘Harry!’ Hagrid came tumbling down on him like an avalanche. ‘Thank Merlin. I thought I’d lost yeh. What were yeh doing? I went ter Madam Malkin’s an’ yeh wasn’t there. We’ve yeh been?’

‘I was just getting my books,’ Harry said, feeling guilty. ‘Sorry.’

‘Oh,’ Hagrid panted, ‘well, okay, as long as yeh’re alright.’

An idea presented itself to Harry and he seized on it. This giant Hagrid really did care for him, that was becoming very obvious, and Harry needed those books. He wondered if he could turn that to his advantage.

‘Hagrid?’ Harry asked hopefully.

‘Yeh?’

‘I was trying to get some books about Vol… You-Know-Who… but they wouldn’t let me buy them.’

‘Why would yeh want them Harry?’

Harry gave him a look.

Hagrid looked uncomfortable. ‘Harry, yeh shouldn’t be thinkin’ things like that. I know what I said, but…’

‘I just want to know,’ Harry said, trying a new approach. ‘Who was he really? Hagrid, please, I need to know. I’m not thinking about revenge or anything stupid like that. I promise. I just need to know.’

‘Oh,’ Hagrid said, pulling on his bushy beard indecisively. ‘I’m not sure it’s such a good idea Harry. I don’t want yeh gettin’ yerself hurt.’

‘I won’t. Please Hagrid,’ Harry pleaded, ‘just a few books. I’m way behind on wizarding history. I need to know this stuff. I need to know all about the world I came from.’

Hagrid sighed. ‘Alright,’ he said, ‘just a few books.’

Success.

‘Thanks Hagrid.’ Harry felt a little bad about manipulating the giant, so he decided to throw him a bone, so to speak. ‘You’re a good friend.’

Hagrid beamed at him and ruffled his hair. Harry shied away, but found himself smiling at the giant. And what do you know; Harry was surprised, because it was a true smile. It was the first time he’d really smiled in a long, long time.

4. 4: Musings and the Hogwarts Express

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

A/N: Before you read this you might want to check out the last chapter. I’ve made a few changes. All the information is in the Author Note at the beginning of the chapter.

Now, if you’re caught back up, I think I need to explain something. This story is an AU, but only just. The events that take place are mostly the same, with slight differences, and some major differences. I’ve also already written two stories within this Universe. They are Harry Potter and the Alternate Universe: Year Six, and the sequel to that, Harry Potter and the Year of Discord. You can read them now if you like, or you could wait until I’ve finished this, it’s completely up to you, but I will say that if you are waiting for the Harry/Hermione interaction, you’ll be waiting all the way to Year Six.

Whatever you decide, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading. Leave a review please.

Potter: A History

Musings and the Hogwarts Express

Harry sat on the bed in his new bedroom at Privet Drive. The room was full of Dudley’s old junk, but at least he had a little more room.

The Dursleys had been surprised when he showed up on their doorstep and even more surprised at the contemplative look he had on his face. He was quieter than usual while he moved around the house doing most of the chores. They had barely said a word to each other.

The truth was that Harry had a lot to think about. He was a wizard. He’d just found out that his parents hadn’t died in a car crash as he thought, but had been murdered by some evil wizard named Voldemort.

It answered a lot of questions, but raised some new ones as well.

Such as: what do I do now?

Hagrid had said he didn’t believe that Voldemort was really gone. He was sure the evil wizard would return some day. That thought tightened Harry’s gut. If he was still alive, and he would return, then Harry had some unfinished business with him.

Voldemort had even tried to kill Harry once already. He didn’t know why, but if he tried once, maybe he would try again. Chances are he would.

Harry was scared by this prospect more than anything. This Voldemort had grown men so terrified of him that they wouldn’t even say his name. But Harry wasn’t going to let his fear rule him. Harry had a power inside him as well, and he finally knew what it was. He was a wizard. He vowed to become the strongest wizard ever - stronger than Voldemort.

And he was going to start now.

Harry opened the books in front of him, the books he had manipulated Hagrid into buying for him, and started to read.

The Dursleys dropped him off outside the train station on September the first and left him without a word. Harry wasn’t worried. He struggled to drag his trunk and Hedwig (his owl – who was shut inside her cage and not at all happy about it) over to where they kept the trolleys. With a huge grunt of effort, Harry attempted to lift his trunk into the trolley. He would have failed, but for the kind assistance of a passing stranger. The man helped Harry load his trunk, glancing askance at his owl, and then peering into his face.

‘Thanks,’ Harry said, a little awkwardly. He still wasn’t used to people being nice to him.

‘Not a problem,’ the red haired man replied. ‘Will you be okay with that?’ He pointed at the trolley, still looking curiously at Harry. ‘Maybe you’re parents could help you…?’

‘I’m fine,’ Harry said, avoiding the question. He began to push the trolley into the station.

‘So you are,’ the man said to himself, frowning.

Harry made his way over to platforms nine and ten. He was looking for a platform nine and three quarters, but it was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t noticed any other platforms similarly numbered, so logically he deduced that some magical passage (perhaps like the entrance to Diagon Alley) must exist. He just had to find it.

He lingered in the area, wishing he had asked Hagrid about this, or that Hagrid would have told him. This was a bit of an oversight on his part, wasn’t it?

Then he heard something that caught his attention.

‘…wonder where you’re dad got off too, no doubt he’s got lost, always so fascinated by the Muggles,’ a plump woman was saying as she ushered her children before her. Harry latched on the word. Muggles. Hagrid had used that word to describe his aunt and uncle. It meant non-magical people.

Harry wheeled his trolley over and discreetly loitered near them. Watching out of the corner of his eye, Harry was envious of their easy, fun loving family camaraderie. Then one of the children, a red haired boy, ran towards the barrier that separated platforms nine and ten, and suddenly disappeared. Two more children followed, and then a third.

Harry thought he knew what to do now, but he wanted to be sure.

Reluctantly, he approached the lady, who was talking to her only remaining child, a young, also red-haired, girl.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Yes?’

‘How does that work, exactly?’ Harry gestured to the barrier.

The woman looked first at him, then his owl, before smiling at him encouragingly. ‘You just have to walk right through. It’s easy. Make sure no one is watching and then go. Best do it a run if its your first time.’

‘Why can’t I go?’ the young girl whined.

‘You’re not old enough Ginny.’

‘Thanks,’ Harry said as he walked away.

‘You’re…’ the woman frowned after him, belatedly finishing with, ‘…welcome.’

Harry didn’t hear. He was already running, and then suddenly emerging onto a new platform. He found what he was looking for, a sign above his head proclaiming: Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

A large steam engine was before him, the platform packed with students and parents, people just like him, all of them wizards and witches. Harry went to find a place to sit on the train. He found an empty compartment and struggled to fit his trunk into place, finally managing it with a heave. Just then the door to the compartment opened and three boys entered.

‘Oh, hey,’ the silver haired boy from Madam Maulkin’s said, looking him up and down. The two other boys flanked him.

Harry nodded in response and went to sit down. He set Hedwig down in the space next to him and reached down to open his trunk and retrieve the book he had placed on the top. He heard the other boys moving around and talking.

‘My name’s Draco Malfoy, by the way,’ the silver haired boy said once Harry had sat back up. ‘This is Crabbe and Goyle.’ He motioned to his two companions.

Harry remained silent.

‘You don’t say much, do you? Cat got your tongue?’ There was a slight edge of mockery to Malfoy’s words. Harry continued to ignore him. ‘What’s your name? What? Are you deaf?’

‘Leave him alone,’ a new voice said. Harry peered over the tip of his book. It was one of the red headed boys. ‘He obviously doesn’t want to talk to you.’

‘Look what we have here,’ Malfoy looked at the new boy with a sneer. ‘A Weasley, right? Red hair. Freckles. Yeah, definitely a Weasley. My father told me all about you and your family. Is it true you live in a dirt hole?’

‘Shut your mouth,’ the new boy snarled, going red. He looked at Harry. ‘Come on. You can come sit with me if you want.’

Harry did consider it. This new boy seemed a lot nicer than Malfoy, but then…

Harry remembered what Malfoy had said in the robes shop. He was sure he’d be in Slytherin – the same house as Voldemort, and most dark wizards, according to Hagrid. And if you wanted to know your enemy, the best way was to watch and observe. So maybe…

‘I’m fine here,’ Harry said, and then went back to reading. He missed the shock and surprise on Weasleys face. The boy eventually shut the compartment door and left, ignoring the taunting words Malfoy shouted after him.

‘So, you actually do have a little taste, don’t you.’ Malfoy paused for a moment. ‘What is your name?’

Harry had already made his mind up. If he were going to learn about his enemy, then he would need to interact with those like him.

‘Harry Potter.’

Malfoy and his two friends fell silent. Only Malfoy managed to keep a composed face. Crabbe and Goyle both looked like their mouths would remain struck like that - permanently unhinged.

‘Well, Potter,’ Malfoy eventually said, ‘you seem to have a good sense of what’s right and what’s wrong, but not everything is as obvious as the Weasleys. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.’

He held out his hand. Although Harry personally didn’t think much of Draco Malfoy, he still extended his hand. They locked eyes as they shook. Malfoys grip was a little tighter than necessary, but Harry had no problem returning it.

Introductions over, Harry sat back down and went to continue reading. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle shared a look. Malfoy indicated they should keep quiet and observe, so the two larger boys did so.

Harry ignored all this as he read his book.

‘Is it true you live with Muggles?’ Malfoy didn’t try to keep the disgust from his voice.

‘Yeah,’ Harry said, ‘my aunt and uncle.’

‘And you like that?’ Malfoy was looking at him closely, clearly still testing him.

Harry put his book down. He knew what Malfoy wanted to hear.

‘No, I hate it,’ he said.

‘Hmm,’ Malfoy hummed thoughtfully. ‘I know I would. Muggles. That’d be like living with a family of cockroaches, wouldn’t it?’

Crabbe and Goyle laughed. Harry kind of smiled. It was refreshing for people to take his side. For years, he’d been the cockroach, but now everything was changing.

‘Big cockroaches,’ Harry supplied dryly.

Malfoy smirked. ‘What are they like?’

Harry thought for a moment. For years he had thought nothing of himself. The Dursleys had made sure of that. He knew his aunt and uncle had been good to him. They had taken him in. They had clothed him and fed him and sent him to school, despite his strange roots. He hadn’t been able to talk to them over the rest of the summer. He hadn’t been able to ask them why they had lied to him. He figured they wanted to give him a chance to leave his past behind him.

Unfortunately, he knew he couldn’t do that. He knew what he was now, and despite that, he would embrace it. He would try not to undo all the hard work his aunt and uncle had put in to make him a better person, he would try to be as good as he could, but he couldn’t ignore his origins.

‘They’re…’ Harry searched for the right words. ‘Dull.’

‘I bet,’ Malfoy said, laughing with Crabbe and Goyle.

Another distraction arrived then. A small girl with lots of bushy brown hair stood in the doorway, looking nervously around.

‘Oh,’ she exclaimed, ‘I’m sorry. Everywhere else is full. Can I sit here?’

Harry had no interest in this conversation, so he picked up his book and began to read again. Nevertheless, the conversation caught his attention.

‘You’re a muggleborn, aren’t you?’ That was Malfoy. His tone was not friendly.

Harry looked over the rim of his book at the girl. She looked so out of place, clutching a book to her chest.

‘Erm… my parents are muggles… yes.’

‘Sorry, this compartment is full.’ Malfoy pointed to the door, signalling that she should leave.

Harry saw her bite her bottom lip. He felt sorry for her, but he couldn’t hurt the small progress he had made with Malfoy. She looked at him for support. Harry stayed silent.

‘Go on then Mudblood, get out of here.’

She looked at him again, and he saw tears in her eyes this time. She fled the room with a sniff, closing the door behind her quickly. Malfoy and his friends laughed as she ran. His heart went out to her. He knew what it was like to be singled out.

‘Stupid Mudblood,’ Malfoy said, ‘like we’d let her sit with us. She’ll probably be in Hufflepuff.’

Crabbe and Goyle laughed louder. ‘Yeah,’ Crabbe agreed.

‘She might not be,’ Goyle said slowly.

Malfoy smirked. ‘Want to place a bet on that?’

Harry shut them out and went back to reading. Not long after, the train began to move. He was on his way to Hogwarts.

A/N: You may recognise some of the dialogue in this chapter. Some of it is directly from Philosopher’s Stone, others from my Year Six (the scene with Hermione). Review and let me know what you think.

5. 5: Sorting

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

Potter: A History

Sorting

For the rest of the journey to Hogwarts, Harry kept his nose buried in his book. He would occasionally pause to listen in on the conversation that was taking place between Malfoy and his friends, but mostly he read.

Roughly twenty minutes into the trip, their compartment door opened again, and a new face appeared. The boy was small and dark with almost feminine features.

‘Hey Malfoy,’ the boy said, shutting the door behind him. ‘Crabbe. Goyle.’

Malfoy stood up and clapped the new arrival on the shoulder. ‘Where have you been Zabini?’

Zabini revealed his pearly white teeth. ‘Have you seen all the fresh blood onboard? What do you think I’ve been doing?’

Malfoy laughed. ‘Whatever you say Blaise.’

Zabini glanced at Harry. ‘New friend?’

‘Harry Potter,’ Malfoy introduced.

Zabini’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘Really.’ He turned his full attention on Harry. ‘How you doing Potter?’

Harry ignored him and continued to pretend to read.

Zabini looked questioningly at Malfoy, who shrugged, and said, ‘He’s not very chatty.’

‘Okie-dokie.’

Harry decided to speak up. ‘I’m busy.’ He hefted his book as further explanation.

Zabini laughed. ‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘I like you.’

Malfoy shook his head. ‘You would.’

They fell into friendly banter and ignored Harry until the train finally reached Hogwarts. Ten minutes beforehand, they began to slip into their robes.

‘You might want to put yours on Potter,’ Zabini said.

Harry finished the page he was reading and then put the book back inside his trunk, taking out his robes at the same time. He pulled them on over his head.

‘See you later.’ Crabbe and Goyle followed Malfoy out of the compartment.

Zabini lingered with Harry, who was straightening his robes. Once that was done, he left the compartment with Zabini at his heels. Together they exited the train.

‘Firs-years! Firs-years over here!’ Harry heard the family voice of Hagrid call out.

He followed the voice like the other first years.

‘Ah, Harry, good t’ see ya,’ Hagrid said, giving Harry his trademark crinkly eyed smile.

‘You know him?’ Zabini stage whispered.

Harry nodded.

‘All right, firs-years, over here, c’mon now,’ Hagrid continued. ‘Follow me.’

Hagrid led them down a dark path.

‘Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts I a sec, jus’ round this bend here.’

Harry and the rest of the first years found themselves standing before an enormous dark lake. Above and on the other side of the lake was their destination – the castle called Hogwarts.

Hagrid ushered them into boats. Harry sat with Zabini and two other kids he didn’t know.

‘Wow,’ one of the other first years exclaimed, as they set of across the lake.

‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ Zabini said to Harry.

‘Mmm.’

The boats took them into a dark tunnel right underneath Hogwarts. The boats reached some kind of harbour, and they dismounted, and followed Hagrid as he led them up a passageway into the open once again. The castle loomed above them. Hagrid knocked on the door and it opened.

‘The firs-years Professor McGonagall.’

Harry sized up the old woman before him as she replied to Hagrid. He ultimately decided she was a force to be reckoned with and he wouldn’t want to cross her.

Hagrid left them with Professor McGonagall. She led them into the castle and then into a small room, where she proceeded to give them a long speech about Hogwarts and it’s houses. Harry knew a little bit about them, but when she reached the part about the sorting, he found himself wondered just how they would be sorted.

She didn’t answer his internal question, but he wouldn’t have to wait long to find out. Not long after, McGonagall led them into Great Hall. Harry felt eyes all over him as she led them to the far end of the massive Hall. The place was magnificent and he found himself wishing for more eyes, just so that he could take it all in.

McGonagall stopped them and lined them up in front of all the other students. Harry glanced back at the staff table behind him. Sitting in exactly the middle was an old man with long silvery white hair. Harry would swear the wizard was looking right at him, but he didn’t have to time to ponder this.

McGonagall got his attention again when she placed a wrinkled old hat on a stool. He frowned at it, his mind considering the purpose of the hat, when suddenly it began to sing. On and on the song went as the hat detailed all the traits of the Hogwarts houses, and finally answered the question of the sorting. The Hall exploded in applause as the hat finished its song.

Professor McGonagall brought out a scroll and unrolled it. ‘When I call your name, come forward, sit on the stool, and try on the hat.’ And so the sorting began.

Harry watched as the first to be sorted put on the hat. There was a pause. Then, ‘HUFFLEPUFF!’

More first years where sorted as Harry watched.

‘Malfoy, Draco!’

Harry paid more attention now. Malfoy swaggered over to put on the hat, but before the thing had even reached the tips of his ears, the hat cried out, ‘SLYHERIN!’ Malfoy smirked as he sat down at the Slytherin table.

‘What a surprise,’ Zabini whispered in Harry’s ear.

McGonagall finally reached the P’s.

‘Potter, Harry!’ She called out. The Great Hall was instantly silent. Harry ignored all the staring as he went to take his seat. He lifted the hat, braced himself for the unknown, and then out it on.

‘Ah,’ a small voice said. ‘How very interesting.’

What’s so interesting? Harry thought.

‘Many things Harry Potter,’ the hat replied, obviously reading his mind. He found this a little disconcerting. His mind was the only private place he had. ‘Most important right now, would be which house to put you in.’

What’s so interesting about that? Harry thought at the hat.

‘What’s interesting is that you would find a good home in any house I chose,’ the hat said, ‘and that has never been the case. Should I choose Gryffindor, you would belong. Should I choose Ravenclaw, you would belong. Should I choose Hufflepuff or Slytherin, you would also belong. You are unique, Mr. Potter.’

So people keep telling me, Harry thought. What house are you going to put me in?

‘I could decide,’ the hat said, ‘but the truth is I would just be choosing randomly. A more interesting idea would be for you to choose. Where do you think you truly belong? Where would you like to be?’ Harry didn’t even get to voice the thought. The hat knew even before it had finished asking. ‘Slytherin. Hmm. Interesting indeed. Are you sure?’

‘Yes,’ Harry whispered.

‘Then so be it,’ the hat replied, and louder, for the entire Hall to hear, it cried out, ‘SLYTHERIN!’

There was a silence so silent there were no words to describe it. Harry took the hat off and looked around. Everywhere he looked, shock and awe looked back. He slowly got to his feet and placed the hat on the stool. Professor McGonagall looked at him in confusion as he passed her on the way to the Slytherin table. He took a seat among his new housemates. Some looked just as confused as everyone else. Some looked fascinated by this unexpected turn of events. Others looked at him like they would like nothing more than to choke the life out of him.

He wondered what he had gotten himself into.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed. It was fun to write. And yes, it is possible for an eleven year old to be sex obsessed – just ask my cousin. LOL. Leave a review please.

6. 6: Unwelcome and Professor Snape

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

Potter: A History

Unwelcome and Professor Snape

Zabini was the last to be sorted, and he joined Slytherin as well, sitting down next to Harry.

As for Harry, he was very aware of the dark looks he was receiving from quite a few of his housemates. Zabini seemed ignorant of this fact. He was chatting away as if they were old friends.

‘…it’s not a bad house to be in, is it?’

Harry nodded vaguely, still feeling the eye daggers he was getting from down the table. Not for the first time, he wondered what he had gotten himself into.

The silver haired wizard Harry had noticed before stood up and everything went quiet. He smiled down at everyone and spoke in a clear voice, ‘welcome!’ Harry deduced that this must be Albus Dumbledore – the wizard Hagrid proclaimed to be the greatest of all time. Harry had a hard time believing this as the clearly odd wizard finished his little speech.

Magically, of course, food appeared on the table before him, and everyone began to tuck in. Zabini heaped loads on his plate and said, ‘finally, I’m bloody starving.’

Harry looked up at the staff table, ignoring the food for now, and trying to ignore his cold welcome into Slytherin.

He spotted Hagrid at the very far end of the room. He also saw Professor Quirrel, the wizard he had met in the Leaky Cauldron, and sitting next to him was a hook nosed, greasy haired man. This man, whoever he was, was pretending to listen as Quirrel spoke, but in actuality his attention was focused on Harry. They looked at each other across the room. Harry felt uncomfortable under the wizard’s gaze and looked away.

‘You going to eat or what?’ Zabini asked with his mouth full.

Harry began to help himself to the food in reply.

‘Try the pie,’ Zabini suggested.

After they had eaten, Dumbledore again got to his feet. He made a few announcements, something about a third-floor corridor being off limits, and then led the Great Hall in some stupid school song. Harry didn’t sing, and he noticed most of the Slytherin’s didn’t either.

They were dismissed. Harry followed Zabini, who in turn was following a Prefect, all the way down into the Hogwarts dungeons, and then into the Slytherin common room. Harry was barely through the door before he was attacked. Someone shoved him from behind and he fell to the cold stone floor.

‘Harry Potter,’ someone spat. Harry rolled over to look up at his assailant. The boy was obviously older, maybe a sixth or seventh year, and had dark hair gelled at the front. He wasn’t alone. A ring of Slytherin’s had surrounded Harry. Zabini was outside the circle, watching quietly, along with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle.

The boy shook his head. ‘Harry Potter in Slytherin,’ he continued, ‘fancy that. I don’t know what the sorting hat was thinking, but you don’t belong here. I suggest you get your things and find somewhere else to stay, before something nasty happens.’

Harry got to his feet and glared up at the boy. Fear coiled inside him, but also a great anger, an evil feeling he knew only too well. It was how he felt when Dudley bullied him.

The boy laughed. ‘Look how he glares,’ he said, mockingly. ‘I’ll give you one last chance. Leave now, or else.’

Harry would have left. He was scared. However, ultimately, he knew he had nowhere else to go. Plus, if he were going to challenge the most evil wizard there ever was, he would need to grow a backbone. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - allow himself to be bullied anymore.

So he reached deep inside. What he found surprised him. It was a wealth of courage he’d never even known existed, locked away inside him. ‘Or else what?’ he said, quietly, but in the silence of the room, his voice carried powerfully.

The boys face showed open surprise, but only for a moment. The next second Harry found himself looking down the shaft of a wand. He didn’t let himself flinch.

‘Or else I blow you into tiny-tiny pieces, pieces so tiny they won’t ever find you.’

Harry didn’t get a chance to respond.

‘That’s enough Lockerty,’ a waspish voice called out from the door. The boy turned. Standing in the doorway was the wizard Harry had seen talking with Professor Quirrel. ‘Put that wand away before I do something about it.’

‘Yes Professor Snape,’ the boy said, and quickly did as told. He stepped out of the way as the wizard made his way into the room. The ring around Harry had disbanded now.

‘Potter is under my protection,’ Professor Snape said, glaring around the room. ‘If anyone harms even a hair on his head, they’ll have to answer to me. Am I clear?’

There was a murmur of assent, some of it grudging.

‘Good,’ the wizard said, and then gestured back the way he had come. ‘This way Potter.’ Harry followed him back outside.

Once outside, Professor Snape regarded him openly. ‘Do you know who I am?’

Harry shook his head – a negative.

‘My name is Severus Snape, the head of Slytherin House. I also teach Potions. Interested in Potions Potter?’

‘I’ve read a few books on it,’ Harry replied.

‘Good,’ the head of Slytherin said, pleased, ‘I don’t have time for slackers. I’m sure that won’t be a problem with you, will it Potter? You’ll do your house proud?’

Again, Harry nodded.

‘Speak up Potter.’

‘Yes sir,’ Harry said.

Professor Snape paused thoughtfully, and then put an arm around Harry’s shoulders and walked him away from the Slytherin common room. ‘I’ll be honest with you Potter, I’m not supposed to show favouritism, but sometimes I do. I can tell when a student is going to excel, and I get that feeling from you. If you do right by me, I’ll do right by you. I mean it Potter. If you ever need anything, you let me know. I make it a point to give my students every advantage they need to succeed. You understand?’

‘Yes sir.’ Harry understood all right. This wizard Severus Snape was trying to get into Harry’s good graces… but why?

‘And,’ he tapped the side of his nose, ‘you keep this conversation between the two of us.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Good. Now you best get back to your dorm. Early start in the morning. Lots of work to do.’

‘Yes sir.’

Professor Snape clapped him on the back and sent him on his way. Harry didn’t look back. The common room had emptied considerably while he’d been talking with the head of Slytherin. Zabini was seemingly waiting for him.

‘Come on Potter, let’s go check out our new digs.’

7. 7: Reflections

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

Potter: A History

Reflections

There was a lot of reflection done the night of the Sorting.

In his office, the head of Slytherin Severus Snape sat in darkness. He had just left Harry Potter – the Boy-Who-Lived, also known as the boy who had slain his former Master – to fend for himself in the hostile Slytherin dormitory.

Snape thoughtfully rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Where did he even begin?

Harry Potter… sorted into Slytherin?

What did it mean?

Had he witnessed the birth of a new Dark Lord? Could Potter be his Master’s replacement, a force maybe, conceivable, even stronger? After all, he had, most assuredly, vanquished the Dark Lord as a baby. A baby!

And such a power he had sensed when Potter’s new housemates challenged the boy - a darkness he hadn’t felt in so long.

What did it mean?

He would have to watch the boy – perhaps even mentor him. He’d already laid the groundwork. If Potter were the next Dark Lord, then Severus Snape would be as a father to him. He would be his most trusted disciple.

Yes, he thought with satisfaction, dreaming of glory.

In the Gryffindor boys dormitory, Ron Weasley pulled on his pyjamas. His roommates, Dean Thomas, Sheamus Finnegan, and Neville Longbottom did the same. Ron was muttering under his breath.

‘Unbelievable. Harry Potter in Slytherin. What’s the world coming too?’

‘What’s that Ron?’ Dean asked, over hearing.

‘Nothing,’ Ron said briskly.

Neville climbed into his bed and pulled the covers up to his chin.

Dean and Sheamus barely noticed. They closed in on Ron.

‘Did you say Harry Potter?’ Sheamus pressed.

‘So what if I did?’ Ron replied.

‘What about him?’ This was Dean.

‘What do you mean “what about him?”! Didn’t you pay attention to the sorting?’

‘Of course I did.’

‘I’m as shocked as you are Ron,’ Sheamus said, ‘but I don’t see the point in getting angry about it.’

‘What’s so shocking?’

Sheamus explained to Dean while Ron continued to silently fume. Why was he so angry? He didn’t know himself, to be honest. It just felt wrong somehow. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Harry Potter was not meant to be a Slytherin!

And in the Headmaster’s quarters, Albus Dumbledore lay in bed, his own thoughts on Harry Potter, and the most surprising sorting he had ever seen.

In all the thoughts passing through his quick mind, only one was of real import.

Had he made a mistake?

Had sending young Harry to live with his aunt and uncle created a monster? Created another Tom Riddle?

Only time would tell, but Albus Dumbledore would be watching. And this time… Merlin forbid… he would not stand idly by.

If Harry Potter showed signs of being the next Dark Lord… he would have to end it.

…

…

…

He would have to kill the boy.

8. 8: The First Week

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

Potter: A History

The First Week

Harry snuck out his first night. Malfoy, Zabini and the rest of his roommates had long since fallen asleep. Zabini snored loudly, but that wasn’t what kept Harry from sleeping. He felt compelled to explore this new world he would be living in… a feeling he couldn’t ignore. Hogwarts represented that world.

He didn’t need to get dressed (he hadn’t undressed), so slipping out of his dorm room was easy, and he also had no trouble navigating the common room silently – he had a lot of practise in stealth due to his days with the Dursleys. The door to Slytherin house closed with a muted click.

Harry felt the cold chill of the dungeons welcome him.

Not even knowing where he was headed, he chose a direction and walked. It was a truly freeing experience. He didn’t go far his first night, but just the simple act of taking a stroll during the night, listening to the silence, feeling its soft comforting embrace, was one of the greatest experiences of his life up to this point.

Lessons began the next day.

Harry was interested in all of them, but some proved to be a bit of joke. Still, he would persevere. He was, after all, determined to become the greatest wizard of all time. The one he looked forward to most of all – Defence Against the Dark Arts.

This was taught by the stuttering, incompetent Professor Quirrel. He felt let down, but also intrigued. It wasn’t anything his Professor had to teach that intrigued him though. It was the way the wizard acted around him – with sidelong glances and undue interest. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t such a big deal. Everyone stared at Harry. While he had in no way come to be even remotely comfortable with this fact, he had accepted it. But with Professor Quirrel… it just felt different.

That was the best he could explain it.

There was something odd about that wizard.

On one of his nightly strolls, he had a near miss with the Hogwarts caretaker Argus Filch. The man nearly caught him as he was crossing the Entrance Hall on his way up from the dungeons. Harry only just managed to evade him, by ducking behind an immobile statue (sometimes they moved).

As he waited for Filch to pass, he vowed to be more careful.

On Friday, he was prepared for his first Potions lesson. Slytherin’s had that with the Gryffindor’s, which no one in his house was happy about. There was some sort of eternal rivalry between those houses. Harry couldn’t care less who they had the class with.

‘Potions today Potter,’ Zabini said, clapping him on the back in his usual manner. He leaned down and over, sticking his face uncomfortably close to Harry’s. Harry drew back. Zabini was a pain. ‘You ready?’

‘Always,’ Harry said.

Zabini laughed and ruffled his hair. Harry scowled at him and he laughed louder. ‘Anyone ever tell you that you’re a grumpy git?’

‘No.’

Zabini shook his head. ‘You’re a mystery alright.’

The post arrived in the lull. Harry didn’t even look up. Hedwig would do as she pleased, and who would be sending him post? As if to contradict this, a letter was dropped in his cereal. Harry quickly plucked it out and narrowed his eyes at his owl. Hedwig seemed to hoot at him mockingly. He shook the soggy letter at her and she fluttered away in protest. Then he unwrapped it and read the tiny missive.

It was from Hagrid, inviting him for tea.

‘What’s that?’

‘None of your business,’ he replied to Zabini, tearing it into unreadable pieces and dropping them back in his cereal. ‘See you in Potions,’ Harry called over his shoulder as he left.

No one else in Slytherin would speak to him – only Zabini.

Harry didn’t know why, but the young wizard didn’t seem to care what everyone else thought. Harry sometimes wished he would.

Professor Snape lectured them on Potions for most of the lesson.

Occasionally, he would ask a question, and he always seemed to look in Harry’s direction. Harry figured the wizard was again testing him. He didn’t have the chance to answer the first question (not that he would have).

A witch from Gryffindor already had her hand stretched into the air before Professor Snape had even finished. Harry thought she was familiar somehow… but he dismissed it. He had more important things to deal with.

When Professor Snape asked his next question, Harry kept his silence. He knew the answer, of course, but he wasn’t at Hogwarts to show off his knowledge. He was here to further it. Plus, he didn’t like to draw attention to himself. He already had more than enough attention, actually.

After the lecturing, Professor Snape put them to brewing a simple potion. Zabini joined Harry and they paired up. Harry worked quickly and efficiently, sometimes having to check his textbook for directions, but mostly working from memory. He had read the book cover to cover several times while at the Dursleys.

‘It’s official,’ Zabini said, bating his eyelashes, and fake gushing, ‘I love you man.’

Harry ignored him.

They were among the first to finish. Professor Snape praised him loudly, glancing over at the Gryffindors as if to say: ‘This is how you brew a potion.’

When they where dismissed, Professor Snape added, ‘Potter, a word.’

Harry waited for everyone to leave before approaching his teacher.

Professor Snape regarded him closely. ‘Well done on today’s potion,’ he said.

‘Thank you sir.’

Professor Snape continued to stare at him intently for several moments, before he said, ‘you knew the answers to all my questions, didn’t you.’

It wasn’t a question, so Harry didn’t answer.

‘Why didn’t you answer Potter?’ There was real curiosity in Professor Snape’s voice.

‘I’m not fond of attention sir,’ Harry said honestly. ‘And I don’t like to show off.’

Another moment, and then the head of Slytherin nodded. ‘Of course. Perhaps that would be a wise choice for someone like you.’

Harry wondered at that statement, but he didn’t query it out loud. ‘Yes sir.’

Harry had an appointment with Hagrid at three.

He hadn’t been to the giant’s cottage before, but he knew the way. They had only seen each other briefly over the course of the week, and only in passing, so Harry was looking forward to seeing the giant. Imagine that, he thought, smiling.

Loud barking issued from within the tiny house after he knocked. ‘Back Fang!’ Harry heard Hagrid yell, and then the door was open and the giant’s bushy face appeared, grinning down at him.

‘Harry,’ Hagrid said happily, and let him in. ‘Have a seat.’

Harry sat down at the table.

‘How’ve yer lessons been?’

‘Fine,’ Harry replied. ‘I just came from Potions.’

‘Snape treatin’ ya okay?’

‘Why wouldn’t he?’

‘Oh, no reason,’ Hagrid said dismissively, but Harry knew he was hiding something. Another mystery he didn’t have time for.

‘Hagrid,’ Harry said, resting his elbows on his knees, ‘please don’t baby me. Is there something I should know about Professor Snape?’

‘Ah, well.’ Hagrid shifted around uncomfortably.

Harry gave him an encouraging look.

‘Well, I s’pose,’ Hagrid muttered, and then went on louder, ‘see Harry, Professor Snape went to school with yer mum and da.’

‘And?’

‘Yer da and Professor Snape didn’t really… get on…’

‘Why?’

‘Yer da was a Gryffindor, of course,’ Hagrid said, and he looked at Harry meaningfully, but only for a second, before continuing, ‘and Snape were in Slytherin. That alone was enough for animosity, but… it was worse than that. I don’t know why, so don’t ask me.’

‘And you think Professor Snape would hold that against me?’

‘No,’ Hagrid said quickly, and then he started making tea.

Harry watched him work. He noticed how tense Hagrid seemed, and remembered the look from earlier. It was as if… Hagrid was uncomfortable having Harry here… but that couldn’t be, because the giant had invited him. Unless…

‘Do you want to ask me something Hagrid?’

Hagrid stopped making tea, but he didn’t turn around. He just stood there. A deep, rumbling breath, and then he spoke, ‘I have to admit… I’m surprised Harry. We all are.’

‘About what?’

‘Yer a Slytherin Harry,’ he said. ‘It makes people nervous.’

‘And?’

‘Thasit,’ Hagrid said quickly.

Harry let the silence go on for a while as he thought. It couldn’t hurt to tell Hagrid the truth, could it? But then, divulging information was never a strong suit of his. He liked to keep things close to the chest.

‘Does it worry you?’ Harry eventually asked.

Hagrid struggled to reply. That was answer enough. Hagrid didn’t trust him. He was worried. Somehow, this made Harry feel guilty. He was starting to really hate that.

‘You don’t have to worry,’ Harry replied. ‘I have it all under control.’

Hagrid turned to face him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean exactly what I said,’ Harry said.

Hagrid nodded thoughtfully. Another silent pause followed. ‘Tea Harry?’

‘I’m fine thanks,’ he said. He just wasn’t comfortable accepting anything from anyone quite yet. Even Hagrid – the closest thing he had to a friend.

As the giant went back to his tea, Harry picked up the newspaper lying on the table. He read the front page. There was a story about a break in at Gringotts on the thirty-first of July… the day (it still felt alien to think of it as his birthday) he and Hagrid had bought his school supplies. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day, Harry read.

It must be the vault Hagrid had emptied on orders from the Headmaster Dumbledore. It was too much of a coincidence to be otherwise. Hagrid had said it was urgent. He hadn’t been lying.

But what was in it? Who wanted it? And why?

Harry shook his head to himself – he had too many questions.

A/N: And that’s that. That was pretty fragmented, I know, but I think you best start getting used to it. I hope you enjoyed. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading.

9. 9: I Can Fly

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

Potter: A History

I Can Fly

I can fly!

The thought was a joyous one.

Harry felt the wind blowing in his hair, rushing past his cheeks with a sharp, wonderful sting. He couldn’t even see the ground he was up so high. It was wonderful. Easily the greatest feeling he had ever experienced.

It was late, past midnight, and he had snuck out of Hogwarts and stolen a broom. He just couldn’t wait to experience this again.

They had had their first flying lesson today. He had been a little nervous about flying, but as soon as his hand touched the broomstick, he had known he was meant for it. When his feet left the ground, it was confirmed. He was born to fly. Madam Hooch didn’t allow them nearly enough free reign, so he was limited to flying only so far off the ground and at the speed of an airborne turtle.

That was why he had snuck out tonight. He needed to fly again, but this time, really fly. Fly so high he struggled to breath properly.

Harry couldn’t see his own face, but he could feel the smile on his face. No, smile wasn’t the right word. Blissful grin, maybe, but even then didn’t come to close. His cheeks hurt from smiling so wide.

The flying lesson had been eventful as well.

The Slytherins had again been paired with the Gryffindors, and Malfoy had taken to taunting a certain Gryffindor. Small and chubby, the boy was an easy target. The boy (Harry struggled to remember his name… Longbottom maybe?) had a disastrous first attempt at flying, and had fallen off his broom and broken his wrist. Madam Hooch was taking him to the hospital wing, leaving them alone.

Malfoy had found something that belonged to the boy and was being a jerk about it, when another Gryffindor (this one Harry new – he remembered him from the train – Ron Weasley) stood up to him.

Harry had to admire Weasley’s bravery, if not his intellect.

‘You want this Weasel?’ Mafloy taunted, tossing the object (a circular ball) from hand to hand.

‘Give it back Malfoy!’ Weasley shouted.

‘Okay, catch,’ Malfoy said, and threw the ball over his head to Zabini. Weasley tried to catch it, but missed.

Zabini had the ball now and he was laughing at Weasley’s failed, clumsy effort at catching. ‘Whoops, so close,’ he jeered. ‘Potter.’

Zabini threw the ball at Harry, who caught it with his quick reflexes.

Weasley turned to glare at him. ‘Give me the Remembrall Potter.’

Harry considered it, but then, he was trying to ingratiate himself into the Slytherins, and they all seemed to enjoy watching Ron’s embarrassment. He really didn’t have a choice.

‘Sorry Weasley,’ Harry said, letting a slightly mocking tone enter his voice, even though the words he was saying were sincere. He tossed the Remembrall back to Malfoy.

Weasley again tried to intercept, but Harry’s throw was so good, he ended up falling on his face in his attempt. The Slytherins hooted laughter.

‘Leave him alone!’ Another Gryffindor cried. It was the smart girl who always knew all the answers. He couldn’t remember her name.

‘Leave him alone!’ Zabini mimicked her, but screeching the words insultingly.

The Slytherins laughed louder and the girl turned red. ‘You’re all just a bunch of jerks!’ The girl accused, and then threatened. ‘I’ll tell Madam Hooch about this.’

‘Oooh, we’re scared,’ Malfoy said sarcastically.

Pansy Parkinson chuckled.

‘I’ll give you one last chance Malfoy,’ Weasley snarled.

‘Okay,’ Malfoy replied, and held out the Remembrall. When Wealsey went to take it, he spun suddenly and hurled the object into the Forbidden Forest. Weasley gasped, hand still held out. Malfoy smirked at him. ‘Oops.’

Harry thought Weasley would have attacked then, but Madam Hooch was back, and the lesson resumed.

Now Harry was flying above the Forbidden Forest, not far from where they had their lesson earlier in the day. An idea occurred to him. The Forest was forbidden, but who would know? He lowered himself closer to the treetops, trying to get his bearings. It was around here somewhere, he knew.

Finally, he lowered his broom to the ground just outside the Forest and then entered the trees. It was a long shot, but if he walked around this area, he might find the Remembrall. Malfoy hadn’t thrown it far into the Forest. In fact it had only just reached the edge of the trees.

He didn’t stop to think why he was doing this. He just felt compelled. After all, he knew what it was like to be bullied. It wasn’t fun. Malfoy and Zabini were jerks, just as the girl had said. I guess that makes me a jerk as well, he thought. But what does it matter? I have evil inside me anyway.

That was the only difference between himself and Longbottom (?). He deserved to be bullied.

It took him over an hour to find the Remembrall, but then he had to decide what to do with it. He couldn’t give it back. It had to be returned without anyone knowing who returned it. Or maybe he could give it to Hagrid…

Would the giant understand? Could he keep his mouth shut?

‘Probably not,’ Harry said out loud, as he picked up the stolen broom and again took to the air.

If only he knew where the Gryffindor common room was located. That was something he would have to rectify.

Still thinking, he flew back towards the Quidditch pitch and the locker rooms. He had a broom to return.

As the wind rushed past him again, he laughed out loud.

‘I can fly!’ He told the world happily.

A/N: Review please. I love to know what you guys think.

10. 10: Mountain Troll and Aftermath

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

Potter: A History

The Troll and Aftermath

Hermione rolled over in the bed and cringed in pain. Her mother quickly took her hand and shushed her soothingly.

She was in the hospital wing of Hogwarts, recovering from an attack by an enormous Mountain Troll. Her face was stained with tears – both from the pain and the terror she had felt as the Troll attacked her.

Her parents had only just arrived, having been brought here by Headmaster Dumbledore himself.

‘What is going on here?’ Her father demanded to know.

‘As I said, Mr. Granger,’ Headmaster Dumbledore spoke calmly, ‘your daughter was in an unfortunate accident involving a Mountain Troll that had somehow managed to breach our security.’

‘A what?’ Mr. Granger looked furious. ‘How does something like that happen?’

‘We’re not sure as of yet.’

‘Well you better get sure real quick. You’re responsible for my daughter, and this is completely unacceptable. What’s wrong with her?’ This her father directed at Madam Pomfry.

‘She suffered severe broken bones in her left leg and right arm,’ Madam Pomfry answered.

‘Severe broken bones? How severe?’

‘They were smashed to bits,’ she admitted.

‘Oh sweetie,’ her mother cooed sympathetically.

‘I’ve removed as much of the broken bones as I can,’ Madam Pomfry went on professionally, ‘but the break was so severe I doubt I got them all. The pain she is suffering now is from a potion called Skele-Gro, which will reform her bones. Hopefully, the remaining fragment won’t cause any problems.’

‘And if they do?’ Mr. Granger tried and failed to keep the anger from his voice.

‘I can’t say for sure, but there could be complications.’

‘Dammit,’ Mr. Granger snarled, ‘this is outrageous. We rely on you to protect her, and this is what happens?’

‘I’m very sorry Mr. Granger,’ Headmaster Dumbledore apologised again. ‘I can assure you nothing like this will happen again. I will be refortifying Hogwarts protections to make sure of it.’

‘That’s all very well,’ Mr. Granger said, ‘but that won’t help Hermione, will it?’

Her father continued to argue with the Headmaster, but Hermione couldn’t focus on it. The pain was so intense. She must have passed out, because the next thing she knew it was the middle of the night, and she could hear her mother and father talking quietly.

‘…have no choice,’ her father was saying. ‘I’m not leaving her in the care of these people. They have proven already how inept they are at keeping her safe.’

‘Alan, come now,’ her mother said in her best lets-be-reasonable voice. ‘I agree, what happened to Hermione was outrageous, but pulling her out of school? How do you think she will feel about that?’

‘I bloody well don’t care,’ her father snapped.

‘Alan!’

‘Are you saying you trust these people?’

‘Well, I…’

‘Exactly,’ her father said pointedly. ‘She’ll just have to grow up to be a normal girl. No more of this magical stuff. It’s too dangerous. Trolls!’

‘But…’

‘Dad,’ Hermione croaked weakly, getting their attention. Hermione’s mother immediately took her hand again.

‘Shh, sweetie, go back to sleep,’ she said comfortingly.

‘I want to stay,’ Hermione said, fighting past the pain of the Skele-Gro.

‘Honey,’ her father began.

‘No Dad. I’m staying.’

‘You can’t possibly expect me to agree with that after what happened to you - ’

‘Dad!’ Hermione took a breath. ‘I understand how you feel. I do. But this is my life now. I’m a witch. I can’t run away from it. You’ve always been great to me, always supportive of everything I did, and I really appreciate that. Don’t ruin it now. What happened… it was my fault… I was careless. If I was were I was supposed to be, this never would have happened. I’ve learned my lesson. Please. Please let me stay. I’m having such a great time here. I’m learning so much. I don’t want to leave. Please Dad.’

Mr. Granger hesitated.

‘Alan,’ her mother added pleadingly.

Her father sighed. ‘Fine,’ he gave in, ‘you can stay. But if anything like this happens again, I’m taking you home.’

‘It won’t,’ Hermione said.

‘Humour me,’ her father replied, smiling at her.

‘Okay.’

‘Now get some sleep,’ he said. ‘You need to rest.’

Hermione willingly gave in.

What she had said was true, to a certain extent. She loved her studies – learning all about the magical world she was now a part of. Only, life at Hogwarts was tough for her. She didn’t really have any friends besides Neville Longbottom. The girls in her dormitory only just tolerated her. And Ron Weasley… she hated to think how his words had cut her. If only… then she wouldn’t have even been in that bathroom…

So I don’t have many friends, she thought, trying and failing to ignore the pain that coursed through her entire body. I don’t need friends. I’ll be fine.

A few days later, she could barely walk, and her arm had to be held in a sling. Madam Pomfry announced the Skele-Gro hadn’t set properly due to the tiny fragments of bone left over from her accident. Her arm and leg wouldn’t bend without causing her brutal pain. She was left feeling dispirited.

A few months later, she had regained basic movement in her damaged limbs, but she had lost something in the process, something she didn’t even realise. All of the pain, doubts, and trauma suffered during the Troll Incident left her feeling weak.

What she lost was her strength. It was what gave her the courage to stand up and ignore what people said about her. Without it, she retreated into a shell. She no longer spoke up in class. She just got on with her studies silently, like a mouse, and all the while her strength withered inside her.

It would be a long time before she found it again.

11. 11: Remembrall

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

A/N: Sorry for the delay, but I’ve just moved house, so things have been hectic. A short one here, mostly just to tie events together, but also a nice moment for Harry I think. Thanks for reading.

Potter: A History

Remembrall

Harry had thought long and hard about the best possible way of returning the Remembrall to Longbottom without anyone knowing it came from him.

So far, and much to his annoyance, he had been unable to find the hidden entrance to Gryffindor tower. Everyone at Hogwarts was too keenly aware of his presence during the day, making it impossible for him to go anywhere without notice.

He’d hoped to have found it by now, but as Christmas approached, Harry was forced to admit it might take him longer than expected. Oh, he would find it, of that he was sure, but in the meantime, he had to think of another way to return the magical Remembrall.

Which is what led to him standing outside Hagrid’s hut in the middle of the night, Remembrall in hand and wrapped in several layers of cloth. He was sure to be quiet, lest he wake Fang, as he aimed his wand with his other hand.

The door to Hagrid’s hut clicked softly and Harry smiled with satisfaction. The simple Alohomora charm had worked. He took a breath, and then eased the door open. It creaked a little and Harry froze. He could hear Hagrid’s deep rumbling snore. After several seconds passed and nothing happened, he opened the door the rest of the way and slipped inside. He crossed quickly to Hagrid’s table and laid the wrapped Remembrall down on the table gently. Next he pulled out a piece of parchment and propped it up against the ball. In plain block capitals, it read:

Property of Neville Longbottom

Satisfied that his job was done, Harry turned to leave. He caught sight of Fang watching him from his bed next to Hagrid’s. The large dog stared at him silently. It was the first time Harry had ever seen the dog acting placidly. He went over to kneel by Fang’s side and gently stroke his head.

‘You never saw me, okay boy?’ Harry whispered.

As if understanding, Fang’s eyes drooped shut and he lowered his head back down onto his massive paws.

‘Good boy,’ Harry said, patting him on the head and then getting to his feet. He looked down at the snoring Hagrid, content in the knowledge that the giant would see the Remembrall safely home.

Job done, he quietly and quickly left the hut, locking the door behind him.

He began the way back up to Hogwarts, safe in the shadows.

12. 12: A Father's Command

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

Potter: A History

A Father’s Command

Draco was summoned home for Christmas. Not that he hadn’t been planning on returning anyway (he was sure his mother would be disappointed if he didn’t), but the very fact that his father had ordered him home…

It was alarming.

You might be thinking – what’s so unusual about a father wanting to see his son over the holidays?

If you are, you clearly don’t know Lucius Malfoy.

Draco knew him, and feared him. His father had never shown him an ounce of love. Sometimes it even felt like his father used him to make himself feel more powerful. Draco couldn’t even begin to count the times he had been belittled and demeaned by his father, privately and publicly.

He did everything he could to earn his father’s respect, and each and every time, it just wasn’t enough. But he wouldn’t stop trying. It was his father and every boy needs to feel a father’s respect.

Only now…

Had he done something wrong? Something to displease his demanding father?

The reason for his summons was not revealed for several days. Not until Christmas Day, in fact.

The day began as usual. Draco opened his many presents enthusiastically, marvelling at the varied gifts, and making sure to thank his mother and father profusely. He didn’t like to think about what his father might do to him if he didn’t show the proper respect. Lucius Malfoy demanded respect from everyone, and if he didn’t get it… that only led to trouble. The slightest of slights could lead to disaster, even for the wizard’s own son.

Draco had been forced to learn that the hard way over the years.

It was a lesson he would not soon forget.

‘Tell me about Harry Potter,’ his father said.

Now they sat around the dinner table. Draco looked down the table at his mother, who had frozen with a slice of turkey halfway to her mouth. She looked up at the head of the table, staring at his father in shock. Clearly she knew nothing about this.

‘Draco,’ Lucius said sharply, reminding him of his demand.

Draco swallowed. What did his father want to know?

‘Uh…’

‘Uh? What does “uh” mean boy?’

Draco blushed at his father’s mockery.

‘I… what… I’m not sure…’ Draco spoke quietly, murmured his words uncertainly.

‘Are you mouse Draco? Speak up!’

‘Yes sir,’ Draco said, staring at his plate. Suddenly he wasn’t hungry. ‘I don’t… really know him.’

‘You must know something,’ Lucius said, daring his son to contradict him.

‘Uh… he’s quiet.’

‘Go on.’

‘Erm… he doesn’t say much in class, but I can tell he’s smart. He’s always reading whenever I see him.’ Draco snuck a glance up at his father. Lucius urged him on with a look. ‘He’s brave. Gary Minnow challenged him after the sorting and he didn’t back down. Professor Snape intervened and said that Potter was under his protection.’

‘Is that so,’ his father said thoughtfully.

‘Yes sir,’ Draco replied, ‘he seems to have taken Potter under his wing.’

‘And what is your impression of Potter? I know - he’s quiet, smart and brave. All very interesting,’ – again Draco heard that note of mockery in his fathers voice and he lowered his head, cowed – ‘but not what I want to know.’

‘I’m not sure what to think of him,’ Draco said, hesitant, but ploughing through with his thoughts. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure what his father wanted to hear, so he chose to be honest. ‘He’s not what I expected. He doesn’t seem upset to be in Slytherin. He hangs around with Blaise Zabini sometimes. I’ve seen him talking with Professor Snape a lot. If he’s supposed to be some sort of a hero figure… so far he’s a pretty bad one. He’s stood by and watched as we’ve given the Gryffindors a hard time. He’s even participated a little. I… I don’t know what else to say.’

Lucius nodded, still looking thoughtful. Finally, he looked his son dead in the eye; his gaze so commanding Draco couldn’t look away even though he really wanted to.

‘Listen to me boy,’ his father said. ‘You’re going to befriend Potter. Get close to him. Learn what he’s thinking. Every single thought in his head. You learn it all. And then you tell me. Do I make myself clear?’

Draco swallowed. ‘Yes sir.’

13. 13: Christmas In Slytherin

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

A/N: Sorry for the wait guys, I’ve been playing Final Fantasy 13 religiously. Just a little one again. I think the next one might be a bit longer and they should be getting longer as we go now. Side note: if you have the time and the desire, it would be seriously cool if you would check out my DeviantArt account. www.the-namek.deviantart.com. Thanks in advance. Next chapter should be up tomorrow. It just needs a little polishing. Review or I just might forget! :p Kidding. I hope you enjoy.

Potter: A History

Christmas in Slytherin

Harry wasn’t expecting much over Christmas (he never did) and he wasn’t proven wrong. It was just as depressing as it always was for him. The only presents he got were from the Dursleys, Hagrid, and Zabini. Those were a twenty pence piece, stale rock cakes, and some fancy box of sweets, respectively.

He spent Christmas Day alone in the Slytherin dormitory, doing some extra studying and practising his wand work. He could now levitate everything in the room with ease and turn a variety of objects (mostly small, some moderately sized) into similar forms (buttons into marbles, cushions into towels, etc).

It was all just too easy for him.

He felt disappointed with the limited curriculum Hogwarts offered. After all, he wasn’t going to kill Voldemort by turning a match into a needle, was he? His patience was running thin and he felt the need to seek knowledge elsewhere (it always worked for him in the past), but every time he tried to access more advanced books in the library, he was always turned away and told he wasn’t old enough for them. He thought about ordering by owl post, but everyone knew his name and would probably just refuse him that avenue as well.

He perused the books Hagrid had bought for him, but they were mostly about the history of the wizarding world, and didn’t contain any real spells.

Voldemort was mentioned several times - Voldemort and the people who followed him – the Death Eaters. What he read was bleak. The years of Voldemort’s reign of terror, of distrust, fear, chaos, and death, only added to his desire to kill the wizard responsible for his parent’s death.

If he had to seep himself in the vilest of magic’s to accomplish it, then he would.

Surprisingly, he wasn’t afraid of facing Voldemort. If he died trying, then at least it was over. It was a strangely freeing feeling. After all, what did he have to lose? He had no friends. His family couldn’t stand him. He was nothing. The world might even be a better place without him.

He smiled grimly to himself. Perhaps he could take Voldemort and himself out of this world at the same time. A suicidal move. A magical version of Japanese kamikaze attack. He laughed – the sound echoed in the Slytherin dungeon, found no ears except his own.

Everyone else was at home for Christmas.

He was alone in a dungeon, laughing at his own suicidal thoughts.

He thought he might be going crazy.

‘Oh well,’ he said aloud, ‘crazy might be exactly what I need to kill him.’

14. 14: Duplicitous Friendship

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I hope you guys enjoy it as well. Thanks for reading.

Potter: A History

Duplicitous Friendship

‘What are you reading?’

Harry glanced up. Malfoy stood at his elbow, holding a book of his own. The back of the library was empty save the two of them. Harry showed him the book’s cover.

‘Seriously?’ Malfoy smirked. ‘Hogwarts: A History?’

Harry flipped back to his page and ignored the other boy’s laughter. He more heard than saw Malfoy sit across from him.

‘Don’t tell anyone, but I read it as well,’ Malfoy said, once his chuckles subsided. ‘It’s full of crap, don’t you think?’

Harry shrugged and kept reading.

Malfoy rolled his eyes to himself.

‘Do you ever do anything fun?’

Harry idly pointed at the book, still not taking his eyes from the page.

Malfoy laughed again. ‘You call that fun? You need to hang out with me. I’ll show you fun.’

Harry kept reading.

‘Do you plan on ever actually saying anything, or is this going to be a completely one sided conversation?’ Malfoy didn’t try to hide his annoyance.

Harry raised his head from the page and looked at Malfoy. He pointed to a sign on the wall. Malfoy looked. It read simply: no talking. Malfoy looked back at Harry and raised an eyebrow. Harry smiled humorously.

Malfoy shook his head. ‘Aren’t you the comedian.’

‘Not really,’ Harry finally spoke.

Malfoy raised his hands. ‘Praise Merlin, he can speak.’

‘What do you want Malfoy?’

‘I’m not allowed to talk to a friend?’

‘Since when have we ever been friends?’

‘You shook my hand, didn’t you?’

‘Over four months ago,’ Harry pointed out. ‘We haven’t spoken since.’

Malfoy paused for a moment, and then shrugged. ‘Okay. We’re talking now though, right?’

‘And here I am, still wondering why.’

‘Anyone ever tell you you’re not very friendly?’

‘Zabini. On a daily basis.’

Malfoy smirked. ‘I bet he does. Look… things have been hectic. It’s our first year. Sorry if I had to devote my time to getting used to how things work here. Now that we’ve all settled in…’

‘You want to talk.’ Harry finished for him.

‘Fresh start?’ Malfoy offered his hand over the table.

Harry eyed the hand up, and then reached out and shook it. He didn’t much care for Malfoy, but the boy was a respected Slytherin (despite being a first year) and he didn’t want to openly offend anyone. His situation was tricky enough as it was without making enemies. Plus, from what Zabini had insinuated, Draco Malfoy’s father was a suspected Death Eater. Not that anyone could prove such an accusation, of course, but even the brief glimpse he’d had of him in Madam Malkin’s, and Harry had no trouble believing it. The elder Malfoy oozed malevolence.

And so it wouldn’t hurt to befriend the boy. He might even learn something interesting.

‘You’re right about the book,’ Harry said, closing it with a thud of pages.

Malfoy nodded knowingly. ‘Load of crap, right?’

‘Not even one interesting thing in here.’ Harry pushed it away, down the table. He thought for a moment, an idea presenting itself. It would take a subtle hand, but perhaps he could turn his “friendship” with Draco Malfoy into something profitable. His quick mind seized upon the opportunity. ‘Not one interesting book in the entire library, actually. Well, none they’ll let me read anyway.’

‘Oh?’

‘Let’s just say I’m not overwhelmed by our current studies.’

‘And you want more advanced books? To teach yourself.’

Harry nodded, appearing dissatisfied, but secretly pleased with the way the conversation was progressing.

‘Maybe I can help there,’ Malfoy said, smirking.

Bingo!

Harry met his eyes. ‘You’re offering to help me?’

‘One condition,’ Malfoy said.

‘Can you help?’ Harry didn’t want to seem too eager.

‘Trust me.’

‘The condition?’

‘You let me study with you. I wouldn’t mind a little advantage myself.’

Harry smiled. ‘Deal.’

‘I’ll owl my father. He’ll get us all the books we could ever need.’

‘He’d do that?’ Of course he would. Harry had been counting on it.

Malfoy laughed. ‘Oh yeah. Anything to give me an advantage over the rest of the school. You just let me know what books you want.’

Harry nodded absently. He was already thinking.

‘In the meantime,’ Malfoy said, ‘why don’t we get out of here. I’ll show you real fun.’

‘Real fun?’ Torturing some poor student perhaps…?

‘Ever play wizard chess?’

Okay, not what I was expecting. ‘Can’t say I have. Any different than the Muggle version?’

‘I wouldn’t know.’

Harry thought for a moment. He did have a lot he wanted to do, but then… most of it wasn’t really going to help him. Especially not if he could soon get his hands on the books he really wanted to read.

And he might as well keep Malfoy happy. He didn’t want to alienate the boy. Draco Malfoy might turn out to be an invaluable tool. Who could say?

‘Alright, you’re on. Lead the way.’

Malfoy grinned (it was slightly lopsided and looked more like a smirk than a smile). ‘You are so going down Potter. I don’t care what they call you now. After this, you’re going to be known as the Boy-Who-Draco-Malfoy-Killed-In-Wizard-Chess.’

‘We’ll see.’

Two hours later and Malfoy called it quits.

‘Alright, fine,’ he said, tipping his king over sulkily. ‘You win, Potter.’

Zabini laughed over Malfoy’s shoulder. ‘Got your butt kicked huh Draco? When will you ever learn you suck at wizard chess?’

‘I can beat you Zabini,’ Malfoy argued.

‘Ha! You couldn’t beat a blind, armless Squib.’

‘Then what does that make you?’

Suddenly the two Slytherins leapt at each other. They rolled on the ground, punching and kicking, and actually laughing about it. It was the most bizarre thing Harry had ever seen. He felt like he’d stepped into a whole other world, one in which the rules didn’t apply, and maybe he had. The rest of the Slytherins gathered around to watch and laugh, encouraging their favourites, and not one of them tried to break up the fight.

Harry wondered if this was normal behaviour. It didn’t seem like it could be, but then, what did he know of friendship?

‘Kick his ass Malfoy!’ One of the other Slytherins cheered.

Harry looked around the common room. A few girls had joined the crowd around Malfoy and Zabini, but most of them remained as they were, lounging in the armchairs, or sitting at table studying. He caught one of the girls looking in his direction. She immediately turned her head away. He wondered if she’d been looking at him, and if so, why?

The fight was over. Malfoy reclaimed his seat while Zabini sat on the arm of Harry’s chair. They both looked a little bedraggled (Malfoy was attempting to fix his hair), but they didn’t seem at all angry at each other.

‘You always mess my hair up,’ Malfoy complained indolently.

‘You’re such a girl Malfoy.’

‘Forgive me for caring about my appearance. At least I don’t look like someone crapped me out.’

‘Oooh,’ a new voiced interrupted. ‘You’re not going to take that lying down, are you Zabini?’

‘I forgive him,’ Zabini replied. ‘I know he’s just jealous he can’t look as good as me.’

The new boy raised his eyebrows at Harry.

‘Oh,’ Malfoy said, noticing. ‘Nott, you know Potter. Potter, this is Theodore Nott.’ Harry knew him. He was one of the Slyhterins he shared a dorm room with.

Nott looked questioningly at Malfoy.

‘Relax idiot,’ Malfoy said, ‘Potter’s cool.’

‘He doesn’t say much though,’ Zabini added. ‘You have to learn to read his facial features and body language if you want to have a conversation.’ He laughed at his own joke.

‘Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to a reject like you,’ Malfoy theorised.

‘You want to go another round?’ Zabini threatened jokingly.

‘Please,’ Nott interrupted, ‘I think we’ve all had enough of your homo-erotic tussles.’

As easy as that, another fight broke out, only this time Malfoy and Zabini teamed up to take down Nott. Harry shook his head, even though he had to admit, it was kind of fun.

A few days later, and the first batch of books arrived.

Harry and Malfoy took them to the back of the library, away from prying eyes. They sat in the same seats as before. Malfoy unwrapped the package and tossed the topmost book over to Harry.

‘Dig in Potter.’

‘Finally,’ Harry said, turning to the first page and immediately engrossing himself in the text. This book was all about duelling. The first chapter was mostly an introduction on the history of wizard duels. The second chapter covered the rules. Then things got interesting. Harry wanted to try out the spells mentioned in the book as soon as possible.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile before,’ Malfoy observed. ‘That book must be good.’

‘It’s promising,’ Harry replied. ‘I need to find someplace to try out these spells.’

‘Let me see.’ Harry passed him the book. He watched as the other Slytherin read. Malfoy’s near permanent smirk grew. He looked across the table at Harry. ‘We so have to try these out.’

‘Okay,’ Harry said, ‘but where?’

‘There’s a bunch of unused classrooms we can use.’ Malfoy packed up the books. ‘Come on. No time like the present.’

Harry followed him.

Malfoy choose an out of the way classroom down in the dungeons. Harry was reassured to find it in much disarray, and covered with a thick layer of dust. No one had been here in years.

‘No one comes down here,’ Malfoy said, clearing desks and chairs out of the way to make room. Harry helped and they soon had a large enough space to practice. Harry opened the book on one of the still standing tables. He found the page he was looking for. Malfoy read over his shoulder. ‘You want to go first?’

Harry nodded. He stepped into the clearing and gripped his wand. This was it. Time to do some real magic. No parlour tricks this time. He aimed his wand at one of the toppled desks.

‘Which one you going to try?’

‘Stunner,’ Harry replied.

Malfoy smirked.

Harry took a breath through his nose.

‘What are you waiting for?’ Malfoy asked impatiently.

Harry ignored him. ‘Stupefy!’ Nothing happened. He frowned. ‘Stupefy!’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I don’t know,’ Harry said, returning to the book. He read the instructions again.

‘You doing it right?’

‘Obviously not,’ Harry muttered, angry with himself.

‘What’s the book say?’

‘It says I’m doing it right,’ Harry said, a deep frown on his face.

‘I’m going to try,’ Malfoy said. He took position and attempted the spell. Like Harry, nothing happened. ‘We must be missing something.’

Harry simply stared at his wand. Malfoy tried unsuccessfully a few more times. Harry started looking at the other books.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Seeing if these are more helpful.’

Two hour later, they still hadn’t managed to perform the spell.

‘That was disappointing,’ Malfoy groused. They sat, the books Malfoy’s father sent scattered about the desks around them. Harry drummed his wand against his palm in anxiety. He couldn’t even perform a simple stunning spell. How was he supposed to get his revenge this way?

‘You okay?’ Malfoy asked.

‘Fine.’

‘I’m sure we’ll figure it out eventually,’ Malfoy offered.

Harry had nothing to say to that. A sour mood had settled over him.

Malfoy laid his head back against his seat. ‘So, you live with Muggles?’

‘What’s that got to do with this?’

‘Nothing,’ Malfoy said. ‘Just trying to make conversation. You like it?’

‘Don’t you remember? You asked me on the train,’ Harry reminded him.

‘Oh, yeah.’ Malfoy chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. ‘You don’t like them then?’

‘Why the sudden interest?’

‘I told you…’

‘Making conversation, right.’ Harry sighed. ‘I don’t want to talk about my relatives.’

‘Why?’

‘I just don’t. Drop it.’

‘Okay, okay.’ Malfoy held his hands up calmingly. ‘You’re so damn touchy.’

There was silence for a minute or two. Harry was dwelling on his failure to perform the sunning spell. Malfoy was pondering his failure to get information from Harry and fearing the repercussions if he inevitably couldn’t.

‘I guess…’ Malfoy thought twice about his words.

Harry looked over at him. Malfoy looked troubled. ‘What?’ Harry asked.

‘…you don’t remember? What happened… that night…?’

Harry narrowed his eyes. ‘No.’ His blunt word dared Malfoy to press the subject.

Malfoy steeled himself. ‘Did he really try to kill you?’

Harry stood up. Malfoy glanced at the wand in Harry’s hand. ‘How would I know?’ Harry growled. ‘I was just a baby.’

Malfoy opened his mouth to ask another question.

‘Don’t!’ Harry took a breath. ‘Don’t ask me anything like that again.’

‘But…’

‘Malfoy,’ Harry warned.

Malfoy nodded. He pretended not to see the tears gathering in Harry’s eyes. ‘I guess we should get back.’

Harry turned away. ‘Yeah.’

They didn’t speak for the rest of the night. Harry tried not to think about his parents. Malfoy pondered the mystery of Harry Potter.

15. 15: Late Night Conversations

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

Potter: A History

Late Night Conversations

Dumbledore popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth and sucked thoughtfully.

‘You wished to see me Albus?’ Minerva McGonagall asked, standing in the doorway of the Headmaster’s Chamber.

‘Ah, yes Minerva, do come in. Have a seat.’

‘Thank you,’ she replied, doing just that.

‘Sherbet lemon?’ Dumbledore offered the tin of sweets.

‘No thank you. Why am I here Albus?’

‘Down to business then,’ he said, putting the lid back on the sweet tin. ‘I want to know what you make of Harry Potter.’

Minerva was surprised, but she covered it well. ‘Like everyone else, I was astonished to see him in Slytherin. I will admit, I thought he was a shoe in for my house.’

‘And the boy himself? How do you find him?’

‘Quiet. Very clever.’

‘You have no other impression?’

‘What do you want from me Albus?’ She demanded. ‘Would you like me to say that he fills me with a deep feeling of unease. I could say that. Not because I can read him, but because I cannot. I have never seen him smile. He sits alone in class. I have seen him speak rarely, and then only with Severus. Perhaps you should question him?’

‘I have,’ Dumbledore replied. ‘He assures me the boy is of good heart.’

‘Yet you have doubts?’

‘Lingering. Hagrid has spoken out for Harry as well.’

‘Then what troubles you so?’

‘As you have said, I too cannot read the boy. I have watched him closer than anyone. His actions are in conflict.’

‘How so?’

‘Are you aware that Harry is friendly with Draco Malfoy?’

‘Surely not?’ Minerva couldn’t cover her surprise this time.

‘Not only that,’ Dumbledore went on, ‘but I have watched him stand by as another student was bullied. He, in fact, even participated a little. Mr. Malfoy and his friends were taunting your students, throwing an object that belonged to Neville Longbottom between them.’

‘That is worrisome…’

‘But here is where things begin to contradict,’ Dumbledore interrupted. ‘After having his fun, Draco Malfoy threw the object into the Forbidden Forest. However, later that night, I witnessed Harry retrieve it from the forest, and later return it to Hagrid anonymously. Here is the note he left with it.’

Dumbledore handed her the piece of paper.

She read it quickly. ‘I see.’

‘Indeed.’

‘Do you have any idea why he would act this way?’

‘Only theories.’

‘And you’re looking for me to fill in the blanks.’

‘I was merely hoping.’

‘I’m sorry Albus,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I wish I could help. Harry Potter is a mystery to me.’

‘As he is to us all.’

‘However, that he returned the object, it’s a promising sign.’

‘It is,’ Dumbledore agreed, ‘but I think the time has come for me to speak with Harry myself.’

Draco Malfoy tossed and turned in bed. He couldn’t relax. Earlier that morning, he had received an owl from his father, asking about his progress. He still hadn’t sent a reply. He feared to. He could only report his failure.

But damn it, Potter was a locked box with no key. No matter what Draco tried, he always failed. The other Slytherin refused to talk about his family, himself, or anything remotely personal. Draco didn’t know what else to try.

He’d tried being direct about it, and Potter had nearly cursed him. He clearly didn’t want to talk about his famous history. Thinking about it, Draco didn’t blame him. If his mother had been killed when he was young, he wouldn’t want to talk about it either.

He’d also tried being subtle about it, but using that tactic was useless. Potter didn’t even reply to subtlety.

Draco threw his blankets aside and sat up. He needed to think, and since sleep eluded him, what better time than now? He quietly left the boys dormitory behind and went down to the common room.

Potter was there, reading a book closely.

‘You’re up late,’ Draco observed.

Potter glanced up only briefly. ‘Can’t sleep,’ he replied, his eyes already back on the page.

Draco marvelled. Potter was always reading something. The guy was nothing if not determined.

‘Don’t you get tired of reading?’ Draco took a seat a space away from Potter and closed his eyes, head resting back against the cushions.

‘No.’

‘You do realise obsession isn’t healthy.’

‘I’ll live.’

Draco laughed. Potter was bloody crazy.

‘You’re bloody crazy.’

‘Maybe,’ Potter said, ‘but it’s necessary.’

‘Oh?’

‘Never mind. It’s not important.’

Draco opened his eyes and looked at Potter. ‘I think it is.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Yeah,’ Draco said, his anger and frustration getting the better of him, ‘well, if you don’t tell me something, I’ll take those books back. No more advantage for Potter. You can shuffle along with the rest of the damn sheep.’

Potter was looking at him now. He saw his anger reflected back at him, but also, fear. Potter was afraid of losing his advantage.

‘Nothing to say?’ Draco taunted.

Potter grit his teeth. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Why are you so obsessed with learning those spells?’

‘Survival.’

‘You think someone’s out to get you?’

‘You don’t?’ Potter waved his hand around. ‘Most people in this house would love to see me dead.’

‘Snape forbade it.’

‘That will only protect me for so long. Eventually, someone will think they can get away with it. When they do, I have to be ready.’

Draco nodded. It made sense. ‘Tell me about You-Know-Who.’

‘What about him?’ Potter practically growled the words.

‘What do you remember? How does it make you feel?’

‘I don’t remember it. I didn’t even know I was a wizard until my eleventh birthday.’ There was a lengthy pause. ‘I don’t have any feelings on the matter. What happened… happened.’

Draco studied Potter closely. He couldn’t read him. ‘You don’t care that your parents were murdered?’

Potter met his eyes with a blank expression. ‘I never knew them.’

Draco looked away, feeling uncomfortable. ‘You’re a cold bastard Potter.’

‘Are you satisfied?’

Draco nodded, though he didn’t feel remotely satisfied. At least he had something to tell his father.

Potter closed the book he’d been reading and got up.

‘Where you going?’

‘Out.’

‘It’s past midnight,’ Draco pointed out.

Potter ignored him. The door to the Slytherin common room shut silently. Draco waited for Potter to come back, but he was asleep before that happened. When morning came, neither mentioned their late night conversation.

Outside the Slytherin common room, Harry sat on the floor, tears in his eyes. His dreams flashed before his eyes – a bright green light, his mother’s voice, and his laughter. He clenched his fists so tightly he drew blood.

16. 16: Truest Desire

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

A/N: Thanks to Lord Supremo for the Beta on this. Hope you all enjoy.

Potter: A History

Truest Desire

Harry was on one of his midnight strolls when he found the Mirror of Erised.

He was mulling over the strange feeling he got every time he looked at Professor Quirrell (a kind of tingling in his scar, vaguely painful), and the uncomfortable way the wizard looked at him at times. It was never a direct stare, but Harry saw him looking out of the corner of his eye. Today, the rest of the class had been busy copying from a book, heads down. Harry had been making his own notations, when he had felt that tingling. Raising his eyes, his head still aimed down, he saw Quirrell staring at him. Harry couldn’t place the expression, but it felt ominous somehow.

He was forced to forget his internal debating at the sound of movement up ahead. He saw a light and quickly ducked into the nearest room. The mirror awaited him.

Standing tall in the room, the gold-framed mirror beckoned him closer. He felt transfixed by it. A jumble of words he couldn’t understand adorned the top of the mirror.

But the most interesting thing about it was his reflection, or rather, the image the mirror showed him, because it was most assuredly not his reflection. The image was of himself, standing proud and tall over a dark and shrouded fallen figure – Voldemort. He knew it in his bones.

‘It’s called the Mirror of Erised.’

Harry turned at the sound of the voice, tensed in anticipation of attack. The Headmaster of Hogwarts smiled at him kindly. Harry relaxed a little.

‘It reflects a persons deepest desire,’ Dumbledore continued, gesturing to the mirror.

Harry looked at the mirror again.

‘What do you think?’

‘It’s impressive,’ Harry said. He wondered if the Headmaster could see what it showed him. The idea troubled him. Then he realised he probably couldn’t. If the mirror only showed what a person desired, then it would be different for everyone. ‘You can’t see what it shows me?’ He needed to be sure.

‘I cannot.’

Harry nodded with relief. Dumbledore appeared at his side and laid a hand on his shoulder. Harry would have pulled away, but he was frozen in place by Dumbledore’s powerful presence. He swallowed. He’d never felt anything like it. The Headmaster of Hogwarts had always appeared a fool to him, but now he was beginning to understand different.

‘But I would know,’ Dumbledore said.

Harry clenched his fists. What did this powerful wizard want from him?

Dumbledore tightened his hold on Harry’s shoulder. It wasn’t painful, but resolute.

Harry glanced at the ground. ‘It…’ He looked back into the mirror. ‘It shows me…’

‘Yes?’

‘It shows me remain silent,’ Harry murmured in defiance. ‘Sir.’

Dumbledore rubbed the bridge of his nose with his free hand. ‘Do I seem an enemy to you Harry?’

All I see are enemies, he thought, but didn’t say. ‘Am I in trouble for sneaking out after curfew?’ Harry tried to change the subject.

‘Do you think anything happens within this castle that I do not see?’ Dumbledore returned.

Harry felt his heart seize. Was this wizard as powerful as he proclaimed, and indeed, seemed?

‘I don’t believe anyone is that all knowing sir,’ Harry replied.

Dumbledore nodded in approval. ‘And you would be correct,’ he said, ‘but in this case, I assure you, I know most, if not all, that happens within this castle. Even when my eyes are elsewhere, others see for me. I have watched you very closely Harry, since the moment I set you on your aunt and uncles doorstep, and most especially since you arrived at my school.’

‘And?’

‘And I would know what you see within the mirror. The honest truth.’

‘Okay,’ Harry said, deciding to be honest, ‘I’ll tell you.’

‘Good.’

‘The truth?’

‘Please.’

‘I don’t trust you,’ Harry said, ‘and that’s the truth, sir.’

Harry felt Dumbledore’s hand tremble, weaken, and then release him. The old wizard turned away and took a few steps.

‘I am saddened to hear that,’ Dumbledore finally replied.

Harry watched him closely.

‘Let me tell you a story,’ Dumbledore said. ‘There was once a young boy. A boy with untrained power and much potential. He was an orphan, like you. I recruited him to Hogwarts. I stood by and watched as he grew into the most powerful wizard I have ever encountered. Do you know that boys name?’

Harry had a sinking feeling in his chest.

‘He called himself Lord Voldemort.’ Dumbledore turned back to face Harry. ‘Now here I am, all these years later, and another boy of great potential stands before me. Do you understand, Harry? Should I stand by again?’

Harry felt every muscle, every joint, in his body tense. The old wizard’s meaning was clear.

‘If you want to kill me, kill me.’ Harry wouldn’t mince words like Dumbledore. But despite his composed words, his heart pounded with fear. This wizard was powerful enough to end his life with a mere flick of his wand, Harry knew.

Dumbledore’s face transformed into sadness. He sighed tiredly. ‘I fear something has gone terribly wrong, Harry.’

Harry didn’t know what to say to that.

Dumbledore shook his head. ‘Return to the Slytherin dormitory and do not seek the mirror again. You will not find it.’

Harry went to the door. ‘Why would I want to?’ He left before Dumbledore could reply.

Back in his chambers, Dumbledore practically collapsed into his chair. He felt drained of all strength after his tense encounter with young Harry Potter. How could things have turned out this way? He knew sending Harry to live with his relatives would be hard for the boy, but he hadn’t expected it to turn him into the suspicious, guarded young man he had just spoken with.

Something, somewhere, must have gone wrong. This couldn’t be what fate intended. Or had it? Were the fears of the people true? Was Harry destined to replace Voldemort? The prophecy didn’t say Harry would be a saviour.

Dumbledore didn’t know what to believe, or what to do.

Should he let Harry continue to develop, or should he end it before things became complicated?

No. He had time yet. He would just have to watch Harry closer than ever.

17. 17: Slytherin Honour

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

Potter: A History

Slytherin Honour

Hogwarts had an air of excitement around it that Harry was coming to associate with Quidditch. Today Slytherin faced off against Hufflepuff in a match that could vastly affect the current rankings. If Slytherin won, they would take top of the league.

Harry sat with Malfoy, Zabini and the rest of the first year boy’s dormitory. The crowd was roaring, most of them cheering on the Hufflepuff Seeker as he raced towards the Snitch. The Slytherin Seeker was only just behind him.

‘Come on you slow idiot!’ Malfoy cried, standing up.

‘This guy’s useless,’ Zabini said, leaning over to whisper in Harry’s ear.

Harry nodded. Zabini had a point. If he’d been up there, Slytherin would have already won five times.

The Hufflepuff Seeker grabbed the Snitch and the crowd cheered. Malfoy sat down in a huff. ‘Tosser,’ he said, a foul look on his face.

Zabini laughed. ‘You take it all so seriously Malfoy.’

‘It’s our Slytherin honour on the line,’ Malfoy argued, ‘and fools like that make us all look like idiots, so yeah, I do take it seriously.’

‘And we lost to the biggest bunch of pansies this school has to offer,’ Nott added, speaking of the Hufflepuff’s, his tone the same as Malfoy’s.

‘What do you think Potter?’ Zabini asked.

Harry stood up to leave as he said, ‘I think if I’d have been up there, we would have won an hour ago.’

He heard Zabini laugh behind him and Nott say, ‘like he’d do any better,’ in a sour voice. Feet clattered down behind him and Malfoy fell in step.

‘You really believe that?’

‘It’s just the truth.’

‘You saw the Snitch?’

‘At least five times.’

Malfoy was silent for a few minutes as they trudged up to Hogwarts. The stadium was still a clamour of noise behind them. Zabini ran to join them, and then slowed.

‘I’m going to talk to my father,’ Malfoy said. ‘Next year, I’m on that team. You too Potter. Seeker, right?’

‘Fine by me,’ Harry said. He didn’t relish the spotlight, but as he was already under the microscope, he didn’t see how much would change. And he would cherish the time spent flying.

‘Zabini?’

‘Count me out. I have better things to do.’

Malfoy shoved him with an elbow. ‘Like?’

‘I’ll tell you when you’re older.’

Malfoy grabbed him in a headlock and the two boys began to wrestle. Harry ignored them and kept walking. A few minutes later, they caught up as he entered the Great Hall for the celebratory feast. The Hufflepuff colours already hung. Malfoy scowled at them.

‘I don’t think I can stomach it,’ he said, sitting down at the Slytherin table. ‘To just sit here listening to the entire school gloat?’

‘It’s that or starve,’ Zabini said.

‘I think I’d rather starve than listen to those useless bunch of Squibs celebrate.’

Zabini shook his head with a grin. ‘Suit yourself.’

‘You coming Potter?’ Malfoy asked, standing up.

Truth was, Harry wasn’t really hungry. ‘Yeah,’ he said, following Malfoy out into the Entrance Hall.

They walked down the steps into the dungeons of Hogwarts. A ways down the corridor, Malfoy spoke, ‘did you ever think to ask Snape about getting you some books? I’m sure he would. You are his favoured pupil.’

Harry hadn’t thought about it. ‘Not really. He’s a teacher, just like all the others.’

‘Not just like,’ Malfoy disagreed. ‘You should ask. He’ll probably even let you into the restricted section.’

‘Why?’

Malfoy glanced at him. ‘Because just like me, he values Slytherin honour. He would see us above the rest of the school. I’m sure of it.’

Harry thought for a moment. ‘You trust him?’

Absolutely.’

Interesting. ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘You do that.’

Over the course of the year, Professor Snape had favoured Harry with private Potion lessons. It was only one way he showed his bias, but there where many others. He would reward the Slytherins (predominantly Harry) for the simplest of things and he would penalise the Gryffindors for even simpler things. He would add helpful suggestions as he walked amongst the class, while pointedly ignoring all the Gryffindors. It was no secret that Snape would do anything to see his house soar above all others.

While Harry couldn’t say he admired this trait, he certainly took full advantage of it, and he prospered for it.

On one such evening, Harry pondered Malfoy’s words. Would Snape truly go so far for him? There was only one way to find out.

‘Professor?’

Snape was showing him how to brew a complicated potion most students wouldn’t learn until their second year. He continued to stir rhythmically as he turned his glance upon Harry. ‘Yes Potter?’

Out of the entire populace of Hogwarts, Harry only trusted two people. The first was of course Hagrid, the kindest person Harry had ever met. Secondly, Harry trusted Professor Snape, the wizard who had saved his life at the beginning of the year. The only difference between the two was the level of trust Harry placed in them.

Harry couldn’t help but trust Hagrid wholeheartedly.

Professor Snape he was a little more wary about. Anyone who would show such favouritism wasn’t going to be a completely honest man. However, Harry trusted the wizard wouldn’t speak openly about what they were about to discuss, and so he had no trouble speaking plainly with the man.

‘If I ever needed to get my hands on some… lets say… advanced books… could you help me there?’

Snape cocked his head curiously. ‘Of course. What do you have in mind?’

‘Nothing at the moment,’ Harry replied. ‘Malfoy’s father has provided me with all I need.’

‘Has he now?’

‘Is that a problem?’

‘Not at all.’

There was a moment of pause as they regarded each other. ‘So if I ever needed…’

‘You just let me know,’ Snape interrupted, ‘and I will see it in your hands.’

Harry nodded his head in thanks. Snape gestured back to the potion he was instructing Harry on. ‘You will need to keep stirring the potion, very carefully, and slowly, clockwise only, until…’

18. 18: Confrontations

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

A/N: Just to let you know that I’ve posted the prologue for the Year of Discord sequel. It’s called the New Dark Lord. Check it out and enjoy.

Potter: A History

Confrontations

Hagrid’s cabin was full with the smell of cooking meat.

Harry sat at the table, reading one of his books, entitled Curious Charms, while Hagrid slaved over his giant stove. Five large steaks and a small one for Harry sizzled on the stove. Fang was content munching on bone in the corner.

‘How’re yer lessons goin’?’

‘Same as ever,’ Harry said, putting the book aside.

Hagrid turned a little to smile at him. ‘Yer your father’s son, alright.’

‘Oh?’

‘He was a smart one as well,’ Hagrid said, ‘jus’ like you - always near the top o’ the class. Course he had yer mum to compete with.’

Harry paused only a moment. He couldn’t look at Hagrid as he asked, ‘tell me about them?’

Hagrid stopped what he was doing, leaving the steaks to sizzle away. He turned to face Harry. ‘What’d you like t’ know?’

‘Anything. Everything.’ Harry studied his hands because he didn’t want Hagrid to see the apprehension on his face.

‘Well.’ Hagrid hummed thoughtfully. He clearly didn’t know where to start. ‘Yer mum… she was brilliant. Smart, kind, beautiful… in every way. An’ she loved yer dad, and you. She woulda’ done anything for you.’

Harry nodded. He tried not to cry as Hagrid went on.

‘Yer da’, he was, well, I know I sound like I’m repeatin’ meself, but he was smart, jus’ like yer mum. He was popular too, an’ funny. Everyone loved him. He played Quidditch fer Gryffindor. A bloomin’ good Chaser he was. An’ he could play as Seeker an’all. Never met a better Quidditch player.’

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. ‘What did they look like?’

‘Hang on,’ Hagrid said.

He went and pulled a trunk out from under his enormous cot. He riffled around inside for a minute or two. Finally, he handed a photograph to Harry. Harry looked at the smiling couple. His dad (looking very much like what Harry saw in the mirror, only older) gave his mum a kiss on the cheek and she smiled wider. The only similarity between him and his mother were the emerald green eyes.

‘You can keep it,’ Hagrid said. ‘You oughter have it anyway.’

Harry nodded, tears clouding his vision. ‘Thanks.’

Hagrid left him alone with the picture and went to keep an eye on the steaks.

A while later, Harry put the picture between the pages of Curious Charms, and looked over at Hagrid. He never would have expected he would ever have such a friend as the giant, but here he was. Opening up to Hagrid had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. Could he (should he?) considering opening up to more people?

He was thinking of course on his meeting with the Headmaster of Hogwarts. The older wizard had been testing him. Harry wasn’t blind to that. And he knew he had probably failed the test. Trust never came easily to Harry.

Dumbledore had filled Harry with concern. His words had been ambiguous, but the meaning clear. He wanted to know if Harry was going to turn into the next Voldemort. In short – he wanted to know whether he should kill Harry before it became an issue.

This posed a problem. Harry couldn’t kill Voldemort if the Headmaster decided to eliminate Harry early. It made sense to put Dumbledore at ease. But could he trust him?

‘Hagrid?’ Harry sought a second opinion. ‘What do you think of Headmaster Dumbledore?’

‘Dumbledore is a great wizard,’ Hagrid said. ‘He let me stay here at Hogwarts after I was expelled. Only Dumbledore believed me innocent. And he gave me this job when no one else would have. He’s a great man Harry.’

Hagrid certainly sings his praises, Harry thought. Okay. Time for a real question. ‘Headmaster Dumbledore – he’s powerful?’

‘The most powerful wizard alive,’ Hagrid proclaimed.

‘Then why didn’t he kill Voldemort?’

Hagrid winced at the name. ‘Don’t say his name!’

‘Just answer please,’ Harry pressed.

‘Well, you think he didn’t try?’

‘He couldn’t then.’

‘You-Know-Who had great power too Harry,’ Hagrid said. ‘Dark power.’

So Dumbledore fought Voldemort and lost. Harry shivered. He had felt Dumbledore’s power – it was enormous. If Voldemort was more powerful… Harry had a lot of work ahead of him.

‘They say Dumbledore was the only wizard You-Know-Who feared.’

‘It was close then,’ Harry theorised. So close Voldemort didn’t want to risk another duel. ‘One last question. Should I trust Professor Dumbledore?’

Hagrid looked at him with surprise. ‘Of course. Harry, why would you think you couldn’t?’

Harry shrugged it away. ‘No reason.’

It was decided then. He would speak with Dumbledore. Perhaps they had a common enemy.

It happened as he was returning to the Slytherin dungeons.

Without warning, Harry was suddenly magically pulled into an abandoned classroom. He was slammed forcefully into a desk, breaking it apart with a crunch of shattering wood. He thought he might have felt his ribs crack as well. Pain and dizziness made him foggy as he tried to get up. What had happened…?

A boot caught him in the side of the head. He rolled onto his back and gasped. An older wizard stood above him, a sneer on his features. Harry recognised him as the Slytherin who had challenged him after the Sorting - come to finish the job.

Harry reached for his wand in his pocket, but the seventh year Slytherin stomped on his hand to prevent him. He ground his heel in and Harry groaned in pain.

‘The Boy-Who-Lived,’ he said mockingly, ‘what a joke. No Snape to save you this time.’ He knelt and jammed his wand into Harry’s throat. A smirk twisted his expression. He looked on the brink of madness. ‘The Dark Lord sends his regards.’

Harry’s eyes widened. The Slytherin laughed and pulled back his wand hand. Harry grabbed a broken piece of the desk (a leg, it felt like) and smacked him around the head. He tumbled over with a cry of pain and anger. Harry scrambled to his feet and grabbed his wand. Before he could even think to cast a spell, his wand was tugged powerfully out of his hand. Harry looked at his assailant, who had also regained his feet, and currently had his wand once more pointed at him.

‘Avada Kedavra!’

Harry dived after his wand and the curse narrowly missed him. He snatched his wand and ducked behind the teacher’s larger desk. Heart pounding, the picture of his parents flashed before his mind. He couldn’t die here. He squeezed his wand tightly and felt power build inside him. He would not die here!

He jumped up from behind the table and screamed: ‘STUPEFY!’

It worked. However, his aim was off, and the red light smashed into the wall behind the other Slytherin, and dispersed.

‘Not bad Potter,’ his attacker taunted, laughing, ‘but I think you missed. Too bad. Avada - ’

A red aura burst around him. He went limp and collapsed to his knees. Harry stared in surprise. Professor Snape stood in the doorway.

‘Are you okay Potter?’ Snape asked.

Harry suddenly felt the pain in his ribs and buckled onto the desk. Despite this, he nodded reassuringly.

Snape helped him to a seat.

‘Sit still.’

Snape aimed his wand. A bright white light shot out.

‘What was that?’ Harry enquired.

‘A Patronus,’ his head of house replied. ‘Headmaster Dumbledore will be here soon. Just try not to move.’

Harry wondered what a Patronus was, but didn’t have the energy to ask. He felt himself losing consciousness as the whole ordeal took its toll.

The next thing he knew, Dumbledore and Professor Quirrell had joined Snape.

‘What could have possessed the boy,’ Dumbledore mused out loud. He crouched by the still unconscious form of the seventh year Slytherin. ‘Severus, do you have any Veritaserum on hand?’ Harry noticed Professor Quirrell glance anxiously at Dumbledore.

‘I do,’ Snape said.

‘Help me with the boy,’ Dumbledore said, ‘and we’ll soon get to the bottom of this. Quirenus, I trust you will escort Mr. Potter to the hospital wing?’

‘C-certainly,’ Quirrell said, smiling stupidly.

Without another word, Dumbledore and Snape, the unconscious Slytherin between them, left the room. Quirrell turned to regard Harry. Harry got that tingling feeling he was accustomed to feeling around the Defence teacher. Quirrell continued to smile.

‘Ah, so you’re awake then, eh Potter.’

Harry rubbed at his scar.

‘Does it hurt?’

Harry frowned. Something was off. He regarded Quirrell closely. He was still smiling… no, actually, it wasn’t quite a smile. And the wizard was standing taller. It altered his presence significantly. Quirrell looked confident. Arrogant.

‘I think you’re supposed to take me to the hospital wing,’ Harry said, hoping his impression was wrong.

Quirrell laughed. It was cold. Harry felt his heart quicken again. He tried to run, but suddenly he was flung and pinned against the wall. Quirrell appeared unarmed, but the wizard was definitely behind this new form of attack.

‘Such a shame,’ Quirrell said, ‘that you failed to die at the hand of my Lord’s lackey. It would have been so much easier on you, if you had just died. Now, unfortunately…’

Quirrell stopped suddenly. He looked as if he was listening, but Harry didn’t hear anything. Quirrell smiled.

‘My Lord would like to say hello,’ he said menacingly, and began to unravel his turban. Harry narrowed his eyes in confusion. As the cloth fell away, Quirrell turned, and Harry saw the horrific face ingrained in the back of Quirrell’s skull.

‘Harry Potter,’ the grotesque apparition spoke. Lord Voldemort’s voice was as repulsive as his face. ‘So nice to finally see you once again. It’s been too long.’ Harry glared, breathing through his nose. ‘Oh, such rage,’ Lord Voldemort laughed, ‘do you want to kill me boy?’

‘I will kill you,’ Harry promised, speaking through his teeth.

‘I’m afraid that won’t happen,’ Voldemort said. ‘I had planned on using the Philosopher’s Stone to regain my body, and then choke the life out of you with my own hands, but opportunity presented itself, and I was unable to resist. Now I have no choice. You will die here and I will be long gone by the time they find you. Choke him. I want to feel his life pass through these hands.’

Quirrell approached. Harry tried to struggle free of the magical force pinning him to the wall, but he couldn’t move. Quirrell raised his hands and went to fasten them around Harry’s throat, but he recoiled at the merest touch, a cry of pain issuing from his mouth.

‘My Lord,’ Quirrell gasped, ‘I cannot touch him.’

‘Choke him!’ Voldemort roared in outrage.

Quirrell paused. Harry continued to struggle. His sheer determination not to die radiated out from him. He felt his body shudder. He screamed and threw himself at Quirrell. Whatever force had been holding him there, it was no longer present. Harry didn’t know why, and he didn’t care. He grabbed at Quirrell and the man cried in pain. Harry felt the pain as well, but he couldn’t stop. Voldemort was shouting orders at Quirrell, but the wizard could do nothing - he was afraid to touch Harry.

Harry wasn’t afraid to touch him. Pain pierced him again and again, but he fought past it, and scratched and clawed at Quirrell, even as unconsciousness loomed one more time. The last thing he remembered was hearing Voldemort bellow with fury.

This time Harry woke up in the hospital wing. Dumbledore alone stood by his bed.

‘What happened?’ Harry couldn’t quite remember…

‘I was hoping you could tell me,’ Dumbledore replied. ‘Explain to me how a member of my staff was found dead, your body slumped over his?’

Quirrell. Voldemort. It all came back. ‘It’s not what you think,’ Harry said. ‘He was… I don’t know… possessed, I guess, by Voldemort.’

Dumbledore tilted his head. ‘Voldemort?’

‘You don’t believe me.’ Harry shook his head. Despair gripped him. Of course Dumbledore wouldn’t believe him.

‘Tell me exactly what happened.’

Harry studied the old wizards face, but he couldn’t read it. ‘He tried to choke me, but he couldn’t. It hurt him. To touch my skin. Voldemort ordered him to do it anyway, despite the pain, but Quirrell hesitated. He had me pinned against the wall. I don’t know how. I didn’t want to die. Suddenly I felt I could move. Again, I don’t know why. I attacked him over and over again, touching him, and he screamed. Then I… I don’t remember the rest. I woke up here.’ Harry waited for the Headmaster to call him a liar.

‘I believe you,’ Dumbledore said.

Harry blinked. ‘You what?’

‘I believe you Harry,’ he repeated. ‘We used a truth serum on Mr. Lockerty – the student who attacked you – and he told us everything. How Professor Quirrell had used the Imperius Curse on him to make him attack you.’

Harry felt relief flood through him. ‘He said he was after the Philosopher’s Stone.’

‘Not surprising.’ Dumbledore took a seat by Harry’s bed. ‘I find it very interesting that Quirrell could not touch you.’

‘It hurt me as well,’ Harry said. ‘Why?’

‘I do not know. Perhaps a left over protection from your mother’s sacrifice.’

‘Her sacrifice?’ Harry sat up, wincing at the pain in his ribs. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Your mother gave her life to protect you, Harry,’ Dumbledore explained. ‘It is my theory that this is what kept you alive that night he tried to kill you. Your mother’s love.’

Harry looked down at his hands. Truly, Hagrid had been right. His mother would have done anything for him - even sacrifice her own life to save him. Why?

‘Do you still want to know what I saw in the mirror?’

‘I do.’

Harry met Dumbledore’s eyes. ‘I saw him dead. At my feet.’

Dumbledore took a breath. ‘Revenge.’

‘Does it matter what you call it? Voldemort doesn’t deserve to live. As long as he does, people will continue to die. Innocent people - like my parent’s.’

Dumbledore gave a conceding nod – albeit slightly reluctant. ‘I would not have you consumed by it.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Harry said. ‘It doesn’t matter what happens to me. As long as he dies.’

Dumbledore studied Harry closely. ‘This was your intention all along?’

‘Ever since Hagrid told me the truth,’ Harry replied honestly. ‘I’ll do whatever it takes to kill him.’

‘The sorting?’

‘The hat asked me where I would like to be. I chose Slytherin. To get to know my enemy.’

‘Your friendship with Draco Malfoy?’

‘A part of it.’

‘Neville Longbottom’s Remembrall?’

‘You saw that?’

‘I did.’

‘It belonged to him. I only did what felt right in returning it.’

‘Very well.’ Dumbledore got to his feet. ‘You have convinced me of your intent. I will do my best to aid you.’ He walked a few paces away, then stopped and turned to glance one last time at Harry. ‘And see you do not fall into the Dark Arts. Get some rest. We will speak more soon.’

Fall to the Dark Arts? ‘That will never happen.’ Only he was present to hear his declaration.

19. The Heart of Things

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

A/N: Okay, so I lied. I wasn’t in a good mood when I posted that Authors Note, and I allowed my annoyance to get the best of me. I will continue to write Harry Potter fan fiction, although I’m not going to update as fast. As I said, I do have other things I need to be doing. Anyway, I thought about it, and I don’t want to punish the people who have stuck by me and who do review, so I will finish these fics at least. Although, I find it interesting, and pretty sad, to note that I got more reviews for that little Authors Note than I have been getting when I post my actual chapters. And to people who flamed me for not being a perfect little angel like them, well, I’m so terribly sorry I failed to live up to your high standards. Whatever shall I do with myself? Ah, sarcasm, my ever present love. To everyone else, I hope you can forgive my little temper tantrum, and enjoy.

Potter: A History

The Heart of Things

Harry spent one night in the hospital wing before returning to the Slytherin dungeons. Malfoy and Zabini greeted him. They quickly ushered him over to a spot out of the way in the corner of the common room.

‘I don’t know how you do it Potter,’ Zabini said, shaking his head. ‘The whole school is talking about it. Lockerty tries to kill you, then Quirrell, and yet you still survive. You must be the luckiest bugger alive.’

‘I wouldn’t call it luck,’ Harry argued grimly.

‘How did you do it?’ Malfoy asked curiously.

‘I’d rather not talk about it.’

‘Big surprise.’ Zabini rolled his eyes. ‘Well, as much as I’d love to stick around and listen to you say nothing, I’ve got a date.’ Waggling his eyebrows and smirking, he left the other two Slytherins alone.

Malfoy watched him go with a bemused expression. ‘I don’t get that kid.’

Harry shrugged.

‘So.’ Malfoy focused his attention back on Harry. ‘You were about to tell me how you survived fighting two significantly more powerful wizards?’

‘Actually,’ Harry said, getting to his feet, ‘I wasn’t.’ He left the common room behind and headed further into the dungeons. He didn’t want to think about how close he had come to dying and he definitely didn’t want to tell Malfoy about it. Unfortunately, Malfoy was more stubborn than he thought. Soon, the other Slytherin had caught up to him. Harry tried his best to ignore him.

‘Okay, so you don’t want to tell me. Why not? Aren’t we friends? I helped you out, didn’t I? Got my father to buy you all those books… I stick by you and defend you to everyone… I tell them all Potter’s not a bad guy… he’s cool…’

Harry rounded on him. ‘So?’

‘So we’re friends,’ Malfoy said. ‘Friends tell each other things. Yet friendship with you is like being friends with a brick-frickin-wall.’

Harry took a deep breath. ‘Do I invade your privacy?’

‘You can ask me anything, and I’ll tell you the truth.’ Malfoy made a frustrated gesture. ‘Look, I’m not saying we should be like all those Gryffindor and Hufflepuff losers – hugging and kissing – the thought makes me sick, but…’ He trailed off in exasperation, unable to give words to his feelings.

Harry looked at the wall. ‘I almost died,’ he said, ‘so forgive me if I don’t want to relive it.’

Malfoy sighed. ‘Is that such a bad thing?’

Harry looked at him in surprise. ‘What?’

‘Dying,’ Malfoy said, gesturing glumly. ‘This world is nothing but pain on top of pain,’ he went on. ‘An end might be something I’d welcome.’

Harry couldn’t believe the depth of feeling in Malfoy’s words. They were so full of sadness, and anger, and hurting.

‘I don’t want to die,’ Harry said, stressing the words. Yet, he thought.

Neither knew what to say next, so silence reigned for a few minutes. Harry turned and began to walk again. Malfoy followed him after a brief pause. They descended further into the dungeons.

‘My father…’ Malfoy hesitated. ‘My father isn’t a kind wizard. He doesn’t tolerate failure. He… he… never mind.’

Harry kept walking.

‘You don’t care at all, do you?’

Harry didn’t even look at him. He stopped walking by the same abandoned classroom they always used for practice and placed his hand on the door.

‘You’re a cold bastard.’

‘So you’ve said,’ Harry finally spoke.

Malfoy gave a snort of amazement. ‘Whatever.’ He turned to go.

‘Hey,’ Harry called to get his attention.

‘What?’

‘I performed a stunning spell,’ he said.

‘Aren’t you clever.’ Malfoy was obviously still annoyed with Harry.

‘I’m not sure how I did it, but when I thought I was going to die, I guess adrenaline kicked in, and I tried, and it worked.’ This was the only way Harry knew to keep Malfoy happy, which he very much wanted to do. The son of Lucius Malfoy was a valuable asset to him. ‘Want to give it another try?’

Malfoy considered him, still angry, but interested. ‘Fine,’ he said, a bit stiffly.

He followed Harry into the classroom.

They practiced stunning for a while. Harry had better luck this time, and more times than not, he managed to perform the spell by reliving the moment he thought he was going to die in his head. Malfoy failed again, and grew more and more annoyed by this fact.

They finally called it a night, barely saying a word to the other.

A week later, Professor Snape called Harry over after the latest Potions class. He waited for the room to empty before speaking.

‘Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to see you,’ Snape said, standing.

Harry nodded. He’d been expecting something like this. He waited as Snape tidied up his desk, putting everything back into place slowly.

‘This way Potter.’ Professor Snape led him out of the classroom and up out of the dungeons. Harry followed. They finally stopped on the seventh floor, next to a stone gargoyle. Snape looked down at Harry. ‘Nervous?’

Harry shrugged vaguely. He had been expecting this, after all. Although, in truth, he was a little apprehensive, though this was more from force of habit than any real sense of dread. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone would suddenly turn on him, despite having spent nearly a year at Hogwarts without such an event occurring. Not including his housemates, of course. Their reactions he understood perfectly.

‘Cough drops.’

Cough drops? Harry thought.

His unasked question was answered as the gargoyle moved aside to reveal a stone stairwell. Professor Snape gestured him inside, but didn’t follow. The entrance closed behind him as the stairs lurched into motion, carrying him up in a spiral. At the top he found an oak door, which he knocked on, and was then admitted.

‘Come in Harry,’ Dumbledore called from inside the room.

Harry entered slowly, using the time to take in his surroundings. Sunlight streamed in through a large window, bathing the room in a warm glow. Portraits of wizards and witches glanced at him with curious expressions. His eye caught sight of a bright object, which he quickly realised was a creature, rather like a bird, but no bird he had ever seen was this beautiful.

‘A Phoenix,’ Dumbledore explained. ‘His name is Fawkes.’

‘Guy Fawkes?’ Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dumbledore smiled. ‘Please, have a seat.’

Dumbledore waved his hand and a chair appeared. Harry was again impressed by the elderly wizards evident power. He wondered suspiciously if Dumbledore was showing off his powers. Nevertheless, Harry declined the seat, and remained standing. To be honest, he didn’t feel comfortable accepting anything from another person, even an invitation to sit.

Dumbledore frowned. ‘You still don’t trust me.’

‘It’s not personal,’ Harry said. ‘If it makes you feel any better, I’m trying.’

He saw a shadow of something (Regret? Shame?) flash in Dumbledore’s eyes, but it was gone before he could pin it down. Instead, the Headmaster pressed his fingertips together and regarded Harry over the rim of his spectacles.

‘How are you feeling? I trust you are fully recovered?’

‘I’m fine,’ Harry said.

‘Good. I thought you should know that Mr. Lockerty, the student who was forced to attack you, has been freed from the Imperius Curse. He will be returned to school in a few days.’

Super, Harry thought darkly. The guy had already threatened him, and Harry was sure he wasn’t under any kind of curse when that happened. He didn’t mention that to Dumbledore though. He only said, ‘okay.’

‘I’m sure you must have questions,’ Dumbledore prompted.

Why does everyone assume that? Okay, so he did have a few, but he was more than capable of figuring the answers out himself. He had already deduced (successfully) how he had been able to perform a stunning spell, when under normal circumstances he couldn’t. It was a simple matter of motivation. Maybe he didn’t understand the specifics, but it was enough to know that he could perform the spell.

‘No?’ Dumbledore pressed. ‘Very well. I have some for you. Are you sure you do not wish to sit?’

‘I’m fine,’ Harry repeated.

Dumbledore nodded, and waved the chair away. ‘You say you wish to see Voldemort dead. How will you accomplish this? Have you thought about it at all?’

‘Nothing specific,’ Harry said, narrowing his eyes. He didn’t like what Dumbledore was insinuating. ‘I just know I will kill him.’

‘How?’

‘However I can,’ Harry said.

‘The Dark Arts? Is that your plan?’

Harry shook his head. He talks about trust, but he doesn’t trust me. Is that what he’s after? Reassurance?

‘I’ll do whatever needs to be done.’ It might not be what Dumbledore wanted to hear, but it was the truth. He was pretty sure the Headmaster of Hogwarts wouldn’t kill him.

‘The Dark Arts aren’t to be underestimated. I know you think this doesn’t apply to you, but so have many others, and they all fell. I would not see that happen to you.’ Dumbledore sighed. ‘Just think about it Harry. You don’t need to rush this. We do have time. Please.’

The old wizards earnestness was touching. Harry nodded, though he didn’t completely agree. It was easy for Dumbledore to say. He already had the power. Harry needed to gain it.

And he would.

In the Slytherin dormitory, Draco Malfoy rummaged through Harry’s things. His father demanded results and Draco was growing desperate. He poked through Potter’s books, one by one, flipping them open, unsure what he was looking for. He just knew he needed to find something!

Then he did. It fell out from between the pages of Curious Charms. A picture. The young Malfoy studied it. The teenaged couple smiling at him had to be the Potter’s. Harry’s parents. The parents he doesn’t care about. Then why…? He was lying.

Potter lied to him. Of course.

Draco smiled. He had something now. Harry Potter did care about his parents. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he felt it meant something.

20. Sum of the Year

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

Potter: A History

Sum of the Year

Harry spent the last few weeks at Hogwarts as usual. He studied by day and roamed the halls by night. On weekends, he would visit Hagrid and ask the giant about his parents. Hagrid was pleased to fill him in.

He didn’t have anymore contact with Dumbledore, but he felt the wizard watching him. It was beginning to get annoying. He wished the old Headmaster would just make up his mind already.

Harry didn’t like being in the spotlight. He’d spent his entire life trying to stay out of it. You would think that after spending a year in the wizarding world, he’d have adapted to all the eyes on him, but he really hadn’t. If anything, he’d gotten worse. Sometimes he wished he could just be invisible.

Maybe there was a spell for that…? He would have to find out. And if not, maybe he could invent one.

A few times a week, he would join Malfoy in their private abandoned classroom, and practise performing the stunning spell. Harry was becoming adept at tapping into the power needed to perform it – now he worked on his aim. Malfoy still struggled. He just didn’t seem to have the same magical power that Harry had. Or maybe it was something else… Harry hadn’t let on exactly how he performed the spell.

All in all, it was a productive last few weeks, but Harry still felt discouraged as he boarded the train that would take him home for the summer. How would the Dursleys react to him now that he had spent a year at Hogwarts, learning the very thing they despised? He couldn’t blame them if they treated him badly. He deserved it.

It was just another price he had to pay if he wanted to avenge his parent’s deaths.

Looking at the photograph of his parents, he realised he would pay it gladly, over and over again.

He would do whatever it took.

And Voldemort would die.

21. Potter's Secrets

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

A/N:

Potter: A History

Potter's Secrets

Draco always tried to avoid his father at all costs. It was just simpler that way - for both of them. For Draco, he wouldn't have to endure his father's ever-present scorn. And for the elder Malfoy, he wouldn't have to look upon the face of the son he considered a disappointment.

Unfortunately, it didn't always work, and especially when his father was actively seeking him. On those times, it was better to just face the music and get it over with. So it was that Draco found himself outside the door to Lucius' study. He raised a hand, poised to knock. His fist shook nervously.

Draco closed his eyes, his jaw set angrily. He always felt this way when forced with the prospect of facing his overbearing father. At times like these, he had to admit his father was right to disdain him. He was weak. A coward. He couldn't even bring himself to knock on the door of his father's study.

`Do you intend to stand out there all day boy?' His father's voice reached him through the door, the word “boy” spoken mockingly.

Draco swallowed, blushing, but finally managed to open the door and enter. He tried to walk with his head held high, but as soon as he saw Lucius waiting for him by one of the many bookcases lining the room, he felt his resolve fail, and he looked to the ground. He stopped in the middle of the room, a plush green rug under his feet. A large serpentine contraption hung above him, candles placed in strategic locations to illuminate the entire room. His father proceeded to ignore him for the next few minutes, before he eventually crossed, passing Draco without even a glance, and took his seat behind his desk. The chair resembled a throne, which is exactly what Lucius intended.

He finally looked at his son.

`Well?'

`I…' Draco cleared his throat. `Sir, you wanted to see me?'

Lucius stared at him with a fierce expression. `And why do you think I did that? For the pleasure of your company?' His sarcasm was plain, and cut into Draco as well as any knife. `Speak fool! Tell me what you have learned about Potter.'

He took a breath. He could do this. He had valuable information. His father was sure to be proud of him.

`I do have something,' he said, clenching his sweaty palms.

`I don't have all day,' Lucius reminded him coldly.

`Sorry, sir,' Draco replied, his eyes boring a hole in the rug under him.

`Do you find something interesting about my rug boy?'

`Sir?'

`Look up,' his father said sternly, `and meet my eyes. You are not speaking to my rug.'

`Sorry, sir.' Draco met his father's contempt filled gaze and desperately wanted to look back down at the rug. He just about managed not to.

`Potter?' Lucius reminded him.

`Yes, sir,' Draco began again, `I… I spent a lot of time with him since Easter. He appeared very cold to me. He's elusive and distant. He doesn't offer any information about himself. So I just decided to ask him. I asked him about his parents. How he felt about them. About what happened to them.'

Lucius smiled. `How the Dark Lord murdered them like animals.'

`Yes sir,' Draco said. `He said… he said he didn't care. That he never knew them, so it didn't matter to him.'

`Interesting.'

`But it's not true,' Draco blurted out.

`Oh?'

`No, sir. I found a picture of the Potter's in one of his books. If he didn't care about them, then why have the picture? I think he does care; he just didn't want to tell me. He lied to me. He's full of secrets, sir. I know it. I feel it. It just doesn't make sense. Nothing about him seems to fit.'

`Is that all?'

`I… yes, sir…'

`Then leave.'

`Yes, sir.'

`And Draco,' Lucius said, stopping him as he reached the door.

`Sir?'

`You keep watching Potter. Note everything he does. I have some interesting plans for your second year at Hogwarts. They just might reveal Potter's true intent. Continue to befriend him and report back to me everything, no matter how inconsequential you may think it to be.'

`Yes sir.'

Draco lingered by the door. He had something else he wanted to speak to his father about, and as he was here, he might as well get it over with. However, that was easier said than done. He might like his friends to think he could manipulate his father into anything, but the truth was - he was terrified to ask for anything from the head of the Malfoy house.

`Do you have something else to report boy?'

`Sir, I… I…' A thought occurred to him. `Sir, I could use a little help. I mean, if you want me to learn all of Potter's secrets, I need to get him to trust me. Potter indicated he might like to be the new Slytherin Seeker next year. Could you arrange his?'

Lucius regarded him with his usual hard expression. `And I assume you want on the team as well boy?'

Draco glanced at the ground. `Yes, sir.'

`Very well. It will be done. Now leave me.'

`Yes sir, thank you sir.'

Draco quickly rushed out of the room. Once outside, he leant against the wall, and let out a relieved sigh. At least he had achieved his agenda. Potter and himself would be on the Slytherin team next year. It was a small victory, but he'd take any when it came to his father.

-->

22. Dark Discussions

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

A/N:

Potter: A History

Dark Discussions

Severus Snape was alerted one Thursday night by a knocking at his back door. The hour was late, the sun long since set, and the moon lighting the earth with its pearly glow. He took his time answering, not about to let anyone dictate his time, especially at this hour. The knocking persisted, sounding like a club being struck against his back door with repeated raps.

When he finally did open the door, he was slightly surprised by the identity of his late night caller. He didn't let this show, of course. Severus Snape always kept his face under very careful control. `Ah.' He let an amused smirk cross his face. `Lucius... so nice to see you... it's been a while.'

Lucius Malfoy lowered his cane, with which he had been tapping against the door, and brushed past his old acquaintance. Snape closed the door behind him. Lucius looked around with undisguised disgust. `Let's skip the pleasantries... I do not wish to spend one second more in this stinking Muggle infested pit than I have to. How you live here... but never mind that. I have come by some interesting information...'

Snape made his way into his living room and took a seat. `Do go on.'

`My son has told me you have taken quite an interest in young Harry Potter. Is this true?'

Snape yawned. `I do not answer to you, Malfoy. So what if I have?'

Lucius regarded him coldly. `What have you learned?'

Snape returned the look with disinterest. `Nothing worth mention. Potter remains very withdrawn.'

`So my son has reported also.'

Snape allowed a smirk, `Hmm. So you have the boy spying for you? I wondered why Draco had taken such an interest in Potter. Of course.'

`I'm no fool Severus,' Lucius said. `Potter is a danger to all of us. You think I would leave him unwatched?'

`A danger...' Snape raised an eyebrow. `Or perhaps... an asset.'

`An asset?'

`You think too small Lucius. Your mind has forever been mired in mediocrity.'

`How dare you!' Lucius gripped his cane threateningly.

`Now-now, don't be rash. Think. Potter defeated the Dark Lord as a baby. Imagine the potential. Imagine the power we could wield... and all we need do is mould the boy into our weapon. He could be the next Dark Lord, and us his closest advisors, his trusted mentors. Think!'

Lucius pondered for a moment. `You are sure the boy would turn? Draco has reason to believe Potter harbours many secrets, including a great love for his dearly departed parents.'

`As I said, Potter remains withdrawn, but I am not worried. He shows great promise.'

`You play with fire Severus.'

`But when I am successful, I will wield it.'

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23. A Very Dursley Summer

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

Potter: A History

A Very Dursley Summer

`Harry Potter should not go to Hogwarts this year!' The tiny, bat-eared creature spoke in an annoyingly squeaky voice.

Harry sat on his bed, staring at the strange creature that had appeared in his bedroom. Downstairs, his uncle was hosting a dinner party for some important client. Harry had strict orders not to make a single noise, but right now he was more interested in what this… house-elf… was trying to tell him.

`Why not?'

Harry's time at Privet Drive hadn't been all that bad this time around, which had been a surprise to him. He had been expecting even worse treatment after his year at Hogwarts, but apparently his aunt, uncle and cousin all feared his new magical powers too much to attempt anything. Of course, Harry wasn't allowed to use magic outside school, but he wasn't going to tell them that.

`Very bad things will happen,' the house-elf said, wringing his hands, `very bad things.'

`And how do you know this?'

`Dobby hears things. His master has plans for Hogwarts. Please, Harry Potter, you must not go to Hogwarts this year.'

`Your master? Who?'

The house-elf Dobby gave a squeak, opened his mouth, and then smashed his head into Harry's desk. Hedwig squawked in alarm, wings rustling in her cage. Harry jumped up and pulled Dobby away from the desk.

`What the hell are you doing?' Dobby struggled in his arms. `Quit it.'

Dobby stopped. Harry listened. All was quiet downstairs. Had they heard him? He clamped a hand over Dobby's mouth. He waited. He heard a murmur of conversation, and then relaxed. They didn't appear to have heard.

`Don't make a sound,' Harry warned, releasing Dobby.

The house-elf crumpled to the floor.

This damn creature is crazy, Harry thought. `What was that about?'

`Dobby must not defy his master. He cannot.'

Harry frowned. None of this was making any kind of sense. `You're master forbade you to speak about his plans?'

`I must not reveal my masters secrets,' Dobby said.

`But you're here,' Harry said, `trying to anyway?'

`Dobby must warn Harry Potter.'

`Why?'

`Harry Potter is a great wizard.' Dobby spoke about him as if he was some kind of hero. `You saved us all from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.'

`Alright,' Harry said, `so I can't go to Hogwarts this year. Something bad is going to happen, but you can't tell me what. You can, however, warn me. Consider it done. Thanks. You can leave now.'

`Harry Potter will not go to Hogwarts this year?'

`Of course I will,' Harry said.

`You cannot!' Dobby cried in alarm.

`Shut it.' Harry growled low.

Dobby paused. `Harry Potter cannot make noise?'

Harry didn't like the look on the house-elf's face. `Don't even...' But he didn't get a chance to finish. Dobby disappeared with a crack. `Damn.'

Harry rushed quietly to the door, peered out, and then ran down stairs on light feet.

`Dobby?' He whispered harshly. `You do anything, and I'll staple your ears to the ceiling, you pointy-eared freak.'

Harry heard a crash coming from the kitchen. He ran in just in time to see Dobby levitating a large cake in the air. The house-elf met his eyes. `Harry Potter must not go to Hogwarts.' Then he vanished again. The cake fell. Harry shielded his eyes.

The Dursleys and their guests burst into the room to find Harry standing amidst the ruined kitchen. Harry lowered his eyes under the uncle's furious gaze.

`What is the meaning of this boy?'

`I'm sorry uncle Vernon,' Harry said.

Later that night, locked in his room, Harry sat on his bed. `I'm going to kill that damn house-elf.'

Shortly after the cake incident, an owl had arrived, bearing a letter from the Ministry of Magic. It had reminded him, and thus his aunt and uncle, that he was not allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts, and had then gone on to issue him a warning.

Uncle Vernon had then proceeded to throw Harry into his room. He took all of Harry's belongings, his magic books, his wand, and even Hedwig in her cage, and then locked him in his room. Harry had no idea what his uncle had done with his stuff, but it couldn't be good.

Harry's stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten anything all day and he was starving. He went and knocked on his door. No one answered. He slumped back onto his bed.

`Great,' he said to himself. He had four move weeks left before he was scheduled to return to Hogwarts - if his uncle even allowed him to return. They wouldn't keep him locked up for the whole four weeks, would they? Harry already knew the answer.

Yeah, they would.

And they did.

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24. Back To Hogwarts

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

Potter: A History

Back to Hogwarts

It was two days before Harry was meant to board the train and return to Hogwarts, and it didn't look like his uncle was going to relent. They fed him once a day and allowed him to use the bathroom every now and then, but other than that, Harry had been confined to his room for four weeks now.

It looked like his Hogwarts education was coming to an end. Harry didn't know what to do. He couldn't just go on living like a Muggle after everything he had learned, but how was he supposed to escape without his wand? It was all he thought about for the entire four weeks, and he was no closer to finding an answer.

Then Hagrid came.

The giant arrived as night blanketed the street in darkness, the lights of the street lamps sucked magically into nothingness. Harry was staring mournfully out the window when this happened, contemplating his escape, and he jumped to his feet in surprise. Hope blossomed inside him. He pressed his nose to the window and narrowed his eyes in a vain attempt to see into the night. He saw nothing, but he did hear the loud, booming knocking coming from downstairs. He ran to his locked door and put an ear against the wood. He could make out his uncles angry voice and the gruff, familiar voice of Hagrid. A tiny smile spread his lips ever so slightly.

He was saved - again. That Hagrid... Harry was really starting to become fond of the giant.

In no time Hagrid had freed him from his cell and reunited him with his possessions, and most importantly, his wand. Harry clutched it with fervour. It was his weapon, his instrument of vengeance. When they left the house on Privet Drive, his uncle shot him a reproving look. I'm sorry uncle, Harry thought, but I have to do this.

They spent the night at the Leaky Cauldron, and then the following day Harry bought his new school supplies. People still stared at him everywhere he went, some with curiosity, others with resentment, but in either case, he still found it incredibly annoying. Hagrid pretended not to notice and Harry followed suit. They bought ice creams and sweets and had lunch at the Leaky Cauldron before calling it a day and going to bed.

September the first welcomed him the following morning with a chill breeze blowing through the window. Harry shrugged off his covers and quickly got dressed. Hagrid snored in the bed beside his. Harry had to shake him for five minutes before the giant finally rolled out of bed.

`'Am up,' he said groggily, thundering on big feet over to the bathroom.

Harry was already ready; his trunk packed the night before. He sat on the end of his bed and waited patiently.

When Hagrid emerged from the bathroom, they left the room behind. Hagrid paid Tom and said his goodbyes before the innkeeper could accost Harry. They travelled comfortably in silence to King's Cross, a stark contrast to the year earlier, when Hagrid had first collected Harry from the Dursleys. Back then, Hagrid had been alarmed at Harry's remoteness. Now he was accustomed to it, and more importantly, understood it was just Harry's way.

Hagrid saw him to the entrance to platform nine and three quarters. `Well, that's it. See you at Hogwarts Harry.'

`Thanks Hagrid.' Harry looked at him meaningfully, trying to convey with his eyes what his mouth could not.

`Yeh', that's alright. It was my pleasure.'

Harry wasn't sure if the giant understood his true meaning (probably not), but that was all he could manage at the moment. He still wasn't used to this whole friendship, sharing-your-feelings business. So he gave his only friend a stiff wave and began to push his trolley towards the invisible entrance to platform nine and three quarters.

Oddly, he was met with forceful resistance. His trolley smashed loudly into the barrier separating platforms nine and ten. Hagrid was at his side in a moment, holding him up, while Harry rubbed his stomach in the spot where the handle of the trolley had been rammed into him.

`What happened? Did you do it wrong?' Hagrid whispered, or at least attempted to. His gruff voice had a tendency to carry.

`I didn't do it wrong,' Harry said, frowning angrily. He pushed his trolley again, testing, tapping it against the barrier. He was again met with resistance. `It's blocking me.'

`Are you sure?'

`I'm not an idiot Hagrid. It won't let me through.'

`O'course yer' not,' Hagrid replied distractedly, his mind busy trying to figure out their next move. `What do we do?'

Harry shook his head and tried the trolley again, banging it against whatever was blocking them. He sighed. `Can you contact Headmaster Dumbledore?'

Hagrid nodded. `Yeh'.'

`Then do it,' Harry said, `and tell him what's going on. He'll have to find some other way for me to get to Hogwarts.'

Hagrid rushed off to do that, leaving Harry alone to contemplate this strange turn of events. His mind quickly reached the only logical solution. `I'm going to kill that damn house elf.'

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25. Home Sweet Home

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

Potter: A History

Home Sweet Home

In the end, Dumbledore sent Severus Snape to pick Harry up at Kings Cross.

Harry's Head of House arrived like a bat, swooping down on them with billowing black cloak. The Potions Master ignored Hagrid and clapped his favoured student on the shoulder, before turning curious eyes to the hidden entrance to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He waved his wand discreetly, lest the passing Muggle's notice.

`Old Magic,' he muttered, a dark look on his face.

Old Magic? Harry filed that away under things to look into.

`Always something with you, eh Potter,' Snape said, whilst pulling from his robes a broken cassette. `Know what this is?'

Harry regarded the unusual item closely. The obvious answer came to mind, but he discarded it immediately. He was sure it wasn't just an old, broken cassette tape. He shrugged in reply.

Snape smirked. `This is a Portkey. It will take us to Hogsmeade. Ready?'

`Sure.'

`Grab this end.' Snape offered it to him. Hagrid came closer and put one enormous finger in the middle. Snape held onto the other end still. `Don't let go.'

Harry waited, his impatience rising slowly as nothing happened. What exactly was supposed to… but Harry didn't get to finish that thought. He was suddenly picked up, whirled into nothingness, and then dumped roughly down onto the ground. He fell, landing on his hands and knees. Professor Snape and Hagrid stood calmly beside him. He angrily brushed his hands clean of dirt as he stood up, embarrassed at having fallen.

`Yeh' alrigh' `Arry?' Hagrid asked, moving to help him.

Harry warned him off with raised hands and replied stiffly, `I'm fine.' If there was one thing Harry hated, it was looking like a fool. He'd been made to suffer such indignities all his life - at the hands of his aunt and uncle, but mainly his cousin - that he just couldn't stand it. He hated to be reminded of his weakness.

Snape gave Harry an even look and a small nod. Harry was sure he saw a look of understanding in the dark eyes of the Head of Slytherin. `I would rather not stand around here all day. Let's get a move on.'

Harry was grateful for the change in topic. He gladly followed Snape as the wizard strode purposefully away. Hagrid was left blinking in confusion, but quickly caught up with his larger step.

Up ahead, Harry could see Hogwarts Castle, and it was a welcoming sight. Home awaited him.

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26. Progress Towards Friendship?

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

Potter: A History

Progress Towards Friendship?

Harry was already sitting in the Great Hall when the rest of the Hogwarts students began to arrive in groups of three or four. Stares and whispers came in the young Slytherins direction, but he paid them no mind. Even if his presence were not unusual, they'd likely still be staring, just because of who he was. Everyone at the Slytherin table gave him a wide berth as they sat down. He was still an alien amongst them, his so-called own house.

Malfoy, Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle were among the last few to arrive. The silver haired leader of the gang directed them right to Harry. He sat next to him, with only a raised eyebrow to go in the way of a question. Zabini was more forward. He sat on the other side of Harry, arm slung over the back of his chair.

`Damn Potter! We thought you'd found yourself on the wrong end of someone's wand. Care to explain why you weren't on the train?'

There was a beat of silence. `Nope.'

Zabini laughed. `Ah, I missed you man.'

The Hall gradually quieted as the rest of the students took their seats and the first year Sorting began. Harry wasn't really paying attention, until Malfoy sneered out a few choice words about one of the first years.

`Look at that idiot.' Malfoy nodded towards a tiny boy hopping excitedly up and down as he waited his turn. `The little runt can barely keep still. A Galleon he's a Hufflepuff.'

Harry looked closely at the kid. He was rather hyper - annoyingly so - but Harry had a feeling. `Okay.'

Malfoy blinked at him, `You're betting me?'

Harry shrugged, as if to say, so what?

`Oooh,' Zabini cooed, `this just got interesting.'

`Creevey, Colin,' Professor McGonagall called, and the hyper kid practically bounced up to take his place on the stool.

`Ready to hand over your money Potter?' Malfoy taunted.

Harry didn't react. His eyes were locked on the boy, whose head was practically engulfed as the Sorting Hat was placed upon it. Harry, Malfoy, Zabini and company waited with bated breath.

`Gryffindor!'

Malfoy gaped. Harry smiled. Zabini hollered.

`Score one for Potter,' he said, chuckling.

`Shut up Zabini,' Malfoy replied with a glare in the giggling Slytherin's direction. With the other hand, he fished out a gold Galleon and tossed it to Harry, who caught it with quick reflexes. `You got lucky Potter.'

Harry pocketed the coin, still with a slight smile on his face.

`Oh no.' Harry and Malfoy looked at Zabini curiously.

`What?' Malfoy asked.

`Look,' the dismayed Slytherin said, pointing across the Hall at the gathered first years waiting to be sorted. `Look's like we have another Weasley. A girl this time. Yuck. Look at her!'

Harry looked. She was red headed indeed, and had the look of a Weasley. Her eyes flickered to his, widened, and then looked down with a blush. Harry frowned. What was that all about?

`What's another Weasley matter?' Malfoy muttered. `I plan on staying well clear of them all. I might catch something.'

Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle laughed.

The evening progressed, Ginny was sorted into Gryffindor, and Harry found himself studying the staff table at the head of the Great Hall. He found one unfamiliar face - a wizard surely there to replace Quirrrell as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. The wizard had coiffed golden hair and dressed in fancy clothes of varying sickly bright hues. Harry wasn't impressed so far, but he would reserve judgement until he knew more.

`That's Gilderoy Lockhart,' Malfoy pointed out. `He's the biggest phoney I've ever had the unpleasant fortune to meet. He was in Flourish and Blotts the day I got my school supplies. Luckily we didn't stay long. My father almost killed Arthur Weasley and we had to leave. Never have I thanked Merlin more.'

Harry recognised the name. He was the wizard whose books he had bought for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Of course. So this wizard was some sort of adventurer. If he was as good as his books proclaimed… yet Harry had a hard time believing it.

`Phoney?' Harry asked Malfoy.

`Wait until you meet him, you'll see.'

A few days later, Harry saw indeed.

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