Full circle

Summary; It's often considered a curse if you wish for something or someone that you can't have...When a young child wishes for this impossibility when he is exposed to a world where logic is defied at every turn , he begins to wonder, to even hope that it might be possible. Fast forward a few years and he's found a way to do so. Non canon Harry. Neville is BWL. Eventual Harry/Fleur.

This would probably be the only significant author's note that I will write, so please just bear with me and read it.

This is meant to give the reader an idea on what this fiction is about, so that they can decide now if they like the ideas and want to read the story, or if isn't their cup of tea and reading it would be a waste of their time. I.e: If you don't like it, don't read it. If you don't like it, but still read it and subsequently flame me in the reviews, then I can't say I didn't warn you.

I'm going to make this as short as possible:

This story is in two main parts: The first is Harry's time through Hogwarts (1st-7th year) and then the second will cover approximately 3 years after Hogwarts.

I have aged Harry two years above canon and made it so that Neville is the BWl. (I.e. so he starts Hogwarts in 1989 as opposed to 1991)Naturally, the two of them are different from canon because of this. On the Halloween night of 1981, a (3 year old) Harry lost both of his parents to the death eaters. They were both killed protecting their son, so there is no magical coma induced by the cruciatus curse like in canon. The full story about their deaths will be revealed much later in the story, although it isn't very relevant right now.

In the aftermath of his parents' homicide, he was relocated to live with the Dursleys as in canon. However, certain aspects of his life at the Dursleys have been exaggerated in places and Harry reacts how a child would react in this situation, even if the end result is darker and more sobering than JK Rowling put it out to be.

He arrives at Hogwarts knowing magical theory/basic bits of the wizarding world that he didn't know in canon. How he knows this will be explained in the first chapter/prologue.

Harry is NOT going to get any marriage contracts or have any unexpected inheritance/relation to merlin or the founders. Nothing of the sort.

Do NOT expect Harry to be the typical Gryffindor, as in this fic he will be anything but that. His personality will be drastically different from canon but the first chapter explains why it is so. As a child, he may seem much more advanced than someone his age but there is a very good explanation for it- its not that he is the heir of merlin or something stupid like that. .

Harry will be a powerful wizard and "OP in some ways", but his strength will be realistic as possible as he will have checks to his power and he will NOT be like those God-like Harry's as portrayed in other fics. Having checks on his power IMO ultimately makes his character believable, more enjoyable to read and write about. There is a "power that he knows not" (despite him not being the BWL) and it is not love, but it is closely related to arithmancy. I also feel that it will later turn out to be very ironic for 'Old Tom'.

The prophecy does exist but is irrelevant until near the end of the story.

Dumbledore is to be portrayed as a person that has good intentions but is fatally flawed. He will not be the manipulating warlock as shown by other fics. Then again they do they that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

I can confirm now that there will be no Harry/Ginny or Harry/Hermione- both pairings irk me.

Eventual Harry/Fleur.

The story will flit between first and third person narration. To my knowledge, only the first scene will be written in first person, the rest will be third person. However some other scenes, probably flashbacks or dreams will be in first person.

Death will be the main theme of this story and my interpretation of it may be disturbing and most likely it will be rather sobering to younger readers. This story is rated M for a good reason. I know younger readers will inevitably read this: I am warning you now- you may find this extremely distressing.

Elements of child abuse as well as mental health will be in this story- another thing that might be distressing for oddly enough, older readers. I'm saying that because I'm assuming that the older one's amongst us realise the true implications of a lot of this stuff. Frequent bouts of explicit land colourful language. Please don't repeat these in front of your parents. Actually do. I'd recommend trying it in a crowded public place.

Prologue

"To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering."- Nietzsche

Pain. I feel it. I even hear it. It comes in three parts; a snarl, a sharp crack and then my own cries.

"Freak." That's what they call me, whilst they sneer and laugh at me. They call me either that or "Boy." Never Harry, just one of the two aforementioned names. They call me that name again, 'freak' it is this time, just to avoid any confusion if you even had any. A painful shove follows this, knocking me over and leaving sprawled out on the floor. My head makes a sickening thump as it makes contact with the polished wooden floor. I see stars as my dazed body struggles to stay in control of itself, the urge to black out becoming more and more inviting. Despite that, I still try to get to my feet, I thought maybe I would have a better chance to get away from my tormentors.

Bad move. I learnt that too late- hindsight is 20-20 I guess. A sharp kick in the ribs follows this as I wheeze out in pain and fall back down on the ground, winded by the impact of the sharp boot. I lay there in a pitiful state, gasping for air but they don't care. A feral growl follows and I find myself being thrown into my cell, sorry 'my room that I should be so grateful to receive.'

Instantly darkness greets me like an old friend. "How was your day?" I can hear it crone. "How many times did they hit you today?"

I tell it to fuck off. Pretty colourful language for a nine year old, I'll admit that. I added that phrase to my vocabulary at 7 years of age after hearing the Walrus repeatedly use it in an attempt to ward off the spiders. I didn't know what it meant at the time, all I knew was that after I said that to the Walrus the next time he ordered me to my 'room' without dinner I learnt how hard it was to see out of two black eyes. The purple/squashed beetroot look of the Walrus as well as the Giraffe rushing to cover the Pig's ears with her bony hands made it well worth it.

The voice is silent for several seconds before it asks what I did today besides the usual (breathing/existing) that set them off. Well it's pretty simple really; I asked them about my parents.

I didn't understand what the problem was, there was never anyone I ever remembered calling "Mum" or "Dad" and I had heard people at school call their parents that when they picked them up from said institution. Even the Pig had included those lexical items in his limited vocabulary. I knew that the Walrus and Giraffe weren't my parents, in fact they were my uncle and aunt. I shuddered when I realised that I was related to them. Well at least only one of them was by blood. A blessing in disguise if you looked at it in the way that it could have been much worse; i.e. I could be directly related to the three of them by blood.

I wondered fleetingly if there was a dry cloth in here which I could use to wipe the blood off my eardrums. Doubtful, then again if there was a cloth in hear I would have found it ages ago and it probably would have been covered in my blood. The Walrus had exploded onto a full-on rant at the question on where were my parents. I'd thank him for that later, he gave me a few more words to add to my ever-growing vocabulary. The word "cunt" slides off the tongue pretty nicely, I'll ask someone at school what it means tomorrow. I won't make the mistake in asking one of the teachers what it means. I learnt that lesson when I asked them to explain what the word "Shit" meant. Incidentally, my uncle ended up teaching me two others after receiving a phone call from school. I have to admit that they are growing on me, I mean does anyone else here share the satisfaction of calling something a "good for nothing shitbag" or a "fucking wanker."

However the Walrus was useful in that he did provide some information about my parents. He told me that they were 6 feet under. At first I thought about getting a shovel and a pickaxe, but then i realised it must have been some sort of euphemism. He told me how they had abandoned me and got themselves killed in a car-crash. I seriously doubted the extent of what he told me as he tended to exaggerate quite a bit but he had a point. Those "no-good for nothing shitbags" did leave me with those "Cunts" so they therefore must have been some kind of "fucking wanker" for doing so.

From 6 painful years of living with them, I can safely say that I'd rather live with any other family on this planet. "Good for nothing shitbags" my parents may be, I'd rather live with them. Even if they were allegedly "freaks" like me, maybe they might understand how it feels to be beaten on a daily basis and they won't do the same. I'd like that. I'd really like that actually. But they are dead, so that leaves me back to square 1. It seems like I have to spend the next 7 years in this place before they kick me out.

As I tried to sit up against the wall of my cell I began to wonder what my parents were actually like. Right now to me their faces were a blur, and to be honest if I saw them today, I honestly doubt I would be able to recognise them. In fact, I don't even remember them. I was left to live with the Walrus and Giraffe at 3 years of age, but despite that I still should be able to remember something. But I don't. I don't know what they looked like, I don't know the sound of their voices, I didn't even know if they loved me.

That last realisation really hit home, it felt like one of the Pig's haymakers to the stomach. Unwillingly, tears began to fall down my cheeks as I wept in my cell. I guess Oscar Wilde was correct when he claimed that the truth is rarely pure and never simple. And the thing about the truth was that I knew I couldn't do anything about it. I was trapped, literally and figuratively and I didn't see a way out. Shit.

After I dried off my tears with my blood covered sleeves, I crawled over to my cot of sorts as I tried to forget about my injuries and fucked up family. Wincing as I clambered in, I sighed before closing my eyes, hoping that sleep would come quickly tonight than I had done on any other nights. My luck wasn't that good, it never was. After several hours of lying on the ground in silence, I reluctantly accepted that I wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. I began to think about what I was thinking about before about my parents.

It was clear that I wasn't going to get anything else useful out of the Walrus or the Giraffe, even if I did, the beating I'd get in return for it probably wouldn't make it worth it. The Pig wasn't going to be any help, whilst he would be easy to manipulate, he still struggled to grasp the concept of obeying simple commands. In fact, he was rather simple minded and would probably attack me before I could say anything. That ruled him out completely.

As I wracked my mind, to try and think of people that I knew who could help me, I realised there was literally no one. Figures of authority might know something but I doubt that they would give it to me. They would ask why not ask your relatives or foster parents. I couldn't really say that if I did they would beat me senseless and leave me without food for several days. The police would get involved, and the Walrus would cover it up before sending me to hospital. Actually knowing the Walrus, he'll probably do something that should warrant me going to hospital, but him being a "Fucking wanker" he won't even let me go.

The library however seemed to be like a good idea the more that I thought about it. At the library I would be able to use a computer and maybe if I asked someone nicely they might point me in the direction on where I could find public records. It would be a longshot, seeing as I didn't even know their names, but I had to try. I'll probably use the excuse that I am doing research on a family history project and wanted to do it independently. Chances were the adult would think it was cute or something like that and not bat an eyelid. The more that I thought about it, the library was in fact a smashing idea. The Pig and his friends wouldn't be able to play "Harry-hunting" in the library, they'd get kicked out for that. It also made a brilliant place to hide with the library being the last place the Pig would ever go, that and the dentist but he also wasn't particularly fond of that place.

As I closed my eyes once more, I made the promise that I would find out who my parents were. That wasn't all. I made a wish that I would be able to do so, and to be able to have the power to truly find out if my parents really loved me. A big ask, but then again I had nothing else to lose.

Chapter 1- A deal with the Devil

"Friendship; A building contract that you sign with laughter and break with tears."- Unknown source

Friday 1st September 1989; - Jorkins Household

"I'm going to miss you, you know." A small voice said, a hint of wistful sadness present. "I never really got to say thank you."

The man with the name Steven Jorkins blinked as he turned to the source of the voice. A small boy of eleven years of age who had dark messy hair complete with the most striking hazel eyes he had ever seen that were covered with a pair of spectacles, held together by liberal amounts of tape.

"It's nothing, I did what any other person in my position would do." He replied after a small hacking cough.

"Still, what you did me for really changed my life." The boy said quietly, looking down at his feet, he seemed almost embarrassed with himself.

"All I did was give you my late half-sister's books," Steven replied as he walked over to the kitchen where the kettle was beginning to whistle, "I had no use for them anyway. Do you want a cup of tea?"

"No thank you," the boy replied curtly but not impolitely, "I have to go to Kings Cross anything, the train to Hogwarts leaves in a few hours."

"Hogwarts." Steven grumbled as he poured hot water into a cup, "Bertha would never shut up about that place," he mumbled quietly to himself as he went to fetch the milk from the fridge. Despite him mumbling, the boy standing in the hallway heard him as clear as day but chose to not say anything about it.

"Are they going to take you to the station?" Steven asked as he carried the cup out to the sitting room. Both parties knew who he meant when he said "they". Immediately, the small boy's face tensed up before it relaxed into a cold, emotionless mask.

"No, I am to make my own way there." the boy replied, the politeness from his voice vanished. Talking or even mentioning the people that Steven thankfully didn't refer to by name often put the boy in a bad mood.

"I guess I'll be seeing you then." Steven said, as the boy took a deep breath, the mask seemed to evaporate leaving a rather tired looking boy.

"Goodbye Steven," The boy said as he embraced the older man in a slightly awkward hug.

"Take care of yourself Harry." Steven said as the boy smiled up at him before moving to the door.

"I'll send you an owl." the boy named Harry said as he opened the door with one hand, the other hand holding a rather bulky looking suitcase.

The man named Steven Jorkins watched in silence as the boy named Harry Potter waved goodbye and departed from his residence. He stood there in silence for several minutes before walking back to the sitting room to drink his tea.

2 hours later; Kings Cross, Platform 9 and 3/4.

Harry blinked as he stepped forward onto the platform. He was expecting there to be a lot of people but he wasn't expecting something of this magnitude. All around him were other "Freaks" of all ages and races, carrying owls, cats, brooms and all sorts of magical equipment. He had trailed a wizarding family in order to discover said platform. Some wizards weren't particularly subtle nor were they well informed about what muggles wore. It was rather easy to distinguish the wizards from the muggles. The owls and robes often gave them away, then again it was London and most people probably assumed that there was some cosplay event going on. Taking a tighter grip onto the handle of his trunk, Harry took a deep breath as he lifted it up and made his way through the crowd of excited children with in some cases, tearful parents.

Quickly and quietly, the boy named Harry Potter made his way onto the Hogwarts express where, to his delight, he was able to find an empty compartment. Setting his bag down on the floor, Harry then took out a book from the front pocket and began to read. Every so often he would glance at the battered watch on his wrist, he had acquired the second hand watch several hours ago via the bedroom of the Pig. It wasn't particularly hard to do, nor were the chances of him being discovered for it high.

Several minutes went by as Harry flipped the pages of the book, his eyes reading the words, but he knew that he wasn't focused. Sighing deeply, he folded a page at the corner and closed the book. He then chose to do the next best thing, he chose to look out of the window. His eyes wandered over the platform, watching families of all sizes sending children off to the express with varying degrees of emotion. Harry subconsciously found himself drawn to one small family of three, the boy looked around his age, perhaps a bit older seeing how his robes had a yellow trim as opposed to his own that were plain. Harry watched the boy duck under the arms of his mother as he tried, but failed to evade the embrace from his mother. He watched the cheeks of the brown haired boy flush, even more so when his father embraced him and kissed the top of his head. Harry watched in silence as the parents finally let the boy go onto the train, in fact he kept his eyes on the parents for several seconds, a seething anger rising through him. This came from the realisation that he would never go through this, he would never know the sound of his mother's voice or his father's laugh. He was so focused on staring at the parents that he didn't notice several people entering his apartment.

"Whoa it's a bit cold in here, but do you mind if we sit here." One boy asked politely, with a meek laugh.

Harry turned slowly to look at the boy, he was of average height with mousy brown hair and eyes with rosy cheeks. His robes didn't have a coloured trim as well now that he looked closer, in fact nobody in the compartment had one. He assumed that all 4 of them were first years.

"Sure." Harry said politely, seeing as they were all in his year there was no use or need to aggravate them. That didn't mean he had no trouble with telling them to piss off, as from his old school with the Pig, he was used to being some sort of Pariah. But the Pig wasn't around, hence the need to be said pariah did not exist.

"Cedric Diggory." the same boy introduced himself, offering his hand to the seated boy.

"Harry Potter." Harry replied, choosing to take Cedric's hand. He shook it firmly before turning his attention to the other two.

"I'm Vicky Frobisher, and this is Rodney Bode." Vicky said introducing herself before motioning to Rodney who was standing on her left.

Harry nodded politely before he picked up his book once more and resumed where he had left off. Glancing out of the window, he saw that they had already left the platform. 'Brilliant.' Harry mused to himself as he continued to read the book in front of him on Experimental charms. After several minutes, he looked up to see - doing the same as him, although he didn't seem to be reading a book, he seemed to be reading a set of documents. Cedric and Vicky were meanwhile talking rather animatedly about Quidditch. Blocking them out, Harry turned a page and began to think.

The first time he met Steven Jorkins, the man had instantly recognised that he was a wizard. It wasn't the case that he was one, in fact he was a squib but he had a younger sister who was a witch, Bertha. Bertha had gone missing and was later found dead some time around 1982 after an excursion to Albania. Steven caught him performing a feat of accidental magic in the library, specifically something that Steven coined as 'Apparation'. Harry had discovered a way to teleport himself to a place he knew (it was never far), but it was always useful for escaping the pig's gang when they played 'Harry-hunting.' Steven immediately went to speak to Harry after, having seen Bertha as a child perform the same type of accidental magic. Unfortunately in her case, she had messed up one time and had 'splinched' herself. Steven had assumed that because he could not see any of his parents nearby, that he was muggleborn. He told her Bertha's story and to his amazement, Harry did not seem at all scared or repulsed. He seemed rather excited that there were other people who were just like him and he wasn't just this 'Freak'.

The next day at the library, Harry was amazed to see Steven carrying a small trunk and even more amazed when he learnt that trunk was for him. It contained all of Bertha's Hogwarts books as well as her memoirs from studying there. He quickly got over the fact that he was reading a dead person's diary without her explicit permission, but he remembered that when somebody died, their possessions after a set amount of time went to their family. Technically Steven hadn't given him explicit permission, but he had given him the trunk and told him to make use of it, so consent was implicit in this situation. Reading the diary gave Harry a much needed insight into what Hogwarts was and what living there entailed. The most brilliant thing about the trunk was that it was enchanted, so that it could shrink and grow to normal size at the owner's command. This ultimately convinced Harry that such a thing called magic actually existed.

Bertha was a Hufflepuff, and from reading her rambles, it was clear that she had an affinity for gossip. It led him to wonder if that was a distinctively Hufflepuff trait, but he decided to not dwell on it. After all, he knew exactly which House he would like to go into. Aside from all of her rambles about gossip, Bertha had touched upon one thing that was very applicable to this situation; the people who you meet on the Hogwart's express will likely be your best friends throughout your school career.

Glancing upwards, he saw that Rodney was no longer reading and in fact he looked rather bored sitting there, whilst Cedric and Vicky continued to chat. Harry took this opportunity to study the other members of his compartment. Rodney was a sallow-skinned wizard with a very mournful face, gaunt features and a mop of brown hair. Vicky on the other hand also had brown hair, but that was about where all the similarities ended between the two. For example, her hair had a reddish tinge to it, whilst Rodney's was just a plain brown. One of the most noticeable differences between the two was the sort of aura that they exhibited, with Rodney having this sort of unfaltering gaze that made anyone he looked at uncomfortable, whilst Vicky seemed to be very confident, forward even as well as talkative.

"Harry."

The boy being spoken to blinked twice before he looked towards the source of the voice, Vicky. "Do you have an idea what house you want to go into?" Judging by the slightly irritated look on Rodney's face, it seemed that she had asked him the same question.

"I'm not really fussed, I don't have any preferences." Harry replied simply, subtly avoiding the question, "How about you?"

"I think I would like to be in Gryffindor." Vicky answered boldly.

"Any reasons for that?" Harry asked curiously, from Bertha's journals he had heard what she had written about Gryffindors. From what he had seen of Vicky so far, she sounded like the stereotypical Hufflepuff, but he chose not to say anything about it.

"I have a feeling that Gryffindor will be the right place for me." She answered, as if that was the most straightforward thing in the world.

"I see." Harry said, not at all convinced.

"Besides you never said which one you would like to be in." Vicky probed, Harry instantly felt a bit annoyed by this, but chose to purse his lips.

"I said I didn't have a real preference, I just hope to be put in the house that will help me the most in learning magic." Harry answered, adopting a tone similar to what Vicky had used when she claimed that Gryffindor would be the right place for her.

"A Ravenclaw for sure." Cedric commented, "No prior prejudices about any of the houses, and you seem to have this strong need to learn magic. " He explained perceptively.

This comment didn't slip past Harry's radar, and he noted this piece of information away for future notice. Perhaps the boy was smarter than he initially thought. "So where do you think you will go?" Harry asked back, now quite interested to hear what the mousey haired boy had to say.

"I think maybe Hufflepuff," Cedric admitted, an embarrassed look on his face. "My parents went there and well I think I'd fit in best over there."

"Fair enough." Harry said, pondering whether to attack his logic about someone not being the same as their parents, but he held his tongue, alienating someone so early on wasn't exactly ideal.

"Come on Rodney, everyone here has said what house they think they would be in." Vicky said playfully, nudging the quiet boy in the shoulder.

"He didn't say, you assumed." Rodney retorted, gesturing towards Harry. Harry allowed a small smile to grace his features, by the look of things, this train journey might become pretty interesting.

"Gryffindor?" She asked hopefully. Rodney didn't answer her and stared at her contemptuously for several seconds before she spoke again less enthusiastically, "Hufflepuff?" The stare seemed to intensify in magnitude, but Vicky still didn't seem to be off put by this. "Ravenclaw?" His facial expression soften a bit, but he still didn't speak. "Slytherin?" She asked, a cheeky tone to her voice as if she meant it as a joke. Rodney blinked before sneering slightly.

"Rodney that's not really nice, I mean you should answer her." Cedric said bashfully, trying to defuse the situation.

"If I said that I thought that Slytherin was where I wanted to go, would you be prejudiced and hold it against me?" Rodney asked, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his voice.

"That is the most stupid thing I have ever heard." Harry snapped, interrupting whatever goodness that Cedric probably was about to say. "We don't know you, and I personally couldn't care less if you were going to Slytherin. Besides you're not in Slytherin yet, in fact neither of us here are in a house yet. I understand where you are coming from with all the prejudiced opinions about that house, but its stupid to think that being sorted in one house makes you evil or a dark wizard." He explained. "I mean Merlin went there and he sure of hell wasn't evil or dark."

For the first time, a small smile graced Rodney's features. It wasn't a full smile like the ones worn by Cedric or Vicky, but it was a smile nevertheless. "Then I guess we are in agreement." He said calmly.

"How funny is this?" Vicky asked, "4 new students, with us most likely ending up in separate houses."

"We probably wouldn't see each much then." Cedric said, looking a bit put-down by this realisation. "I guess we'll probably be expected to hang around with people from our own house."

"Well I'll speak for myself, and I enjoyed speaking with all of you guys, even if Rodney over there is a bit moody." Vicky said and Harry stifled a smirk with his hand as he heard a yelp of indignation from Rodney as he claimed that he wasn't moody. "In fact if all of you would like to, I'd like to hang out with you guys, all 3 of you, no matter which house we all end up in."

Cedric gave a low whistle at this bold suggestion. "Can't see what's wrong with that and you lot seem to be all alright, I'm in."

"Harry?" Vicky asked, her eyes melting into his as hers widened.

"It's not me who you'll have trouble convincing." He commented as he looked towards a now scowling Rodney.

"Why not?" Rodney asked after several tentative seconds.

"Friends?" Vicky asked, looking at the other three tentatively.

"Friends." The other three repeated, although it had to be said that Cedric was the loudest and most enthusiastic of the trio. It wasn't that he was extremely excited, it was just Harry and Rodney were certainly a bit quieter in that aspect.

The rest of the train journey passed by without further incident, with the four continuing what they were before. Vicky and Cedric talking animatedly, Harry reading his book and Rodney staring out of the window.

"Look there it is." Vicky proclaimed excitedly, pointing at the window. Harry raised his eyebrows before putting down his book and following Vicky's eye-line. There it was, there was no mistaking it. Standing out from the Scottish landscape, despite it being the late afternoon, there was the place known as Hogwarts.

The four first years exited the train along with the others, but it was clear that the first years stuck up like a sore thumb. There were some who stayed close to older siblings, some like Harry who were fortunate enough to be in a small group, and there were some who just looked completely and utterly lost.

"First Years, over 'ere." Harry blinked as he alongside the other three were marshalled by a rather large man. "In the boats." The man said with far too much cheer and enthusiasm in his voice. Harry had just been reading up on cheering charms in the book he was reading, perhaps this odd man had been affected by one?

Fortunately, the quartet were able to find themselves a small boat and immediately after they had all gotten in, the boat started to move towards the castle. Harry narrowed his eyes at the boat, he had first expected there to be oars or an engine, but it seemed like the boat was moving upon its own accord. It was literally the hollowed out trunk of a tree and by all means it shouldn't be moving given there being no wind and the boat not having a sail. It was then when Harry realised that he was going to a school of magic. From what he had seen of the magical world so far, he realised that it was a good idea to ignore all means of logic that he had accumulated from the muggle world.

The boat reached the shore quickly, although the journey wasn't the smoothest that he had ever experienced. Cedric looked very green around the gills, whilst Rodney was gripping the edges of the boat so hard that his knuckles had turned white, Harry felt a bit queasy himself. Meanwhile Vicky seemed oblivious to what the others were experiencing, and was continuing to talk in the same manner animated manner as before, only this time, her 'partner of sorts' Cedric was no longer keeping pace with her and was just nodding politely at regular intervals. Harry smirked as he watched Vicky catch on to what he was doing before she realised why he was acting like this. His smirk grew in length as he watched Vicky lean in towards the handsome looking boy and whisper something in his ear.

From his horrified expression and him asking "Muggles honestly do that kind of stuff," it made Harry wonder what she had told him. After she pulled away, with an evil smile on her face, Harry raised an eyebrow, silently asking for an explanation for this.

"I was just educating young Cedric over here about something that my family have a massive passion for, skydiving." Vicky explained sweetly, as a puzzled look appeared on Rodney's face.

"It's basically when muggles jump out of an airplane, a giant muggle flying contraception. But they do this without brooms. Crazy right?" Harry answered, hiding his smirk well. Rodney raised his eyebrows in surprise before swiftly moving away as Cedric stuck his head out of the boat and threw up in the water.

"And he says that he wants to play as a seeker in Quidditch." Harry muttered to himself as the boy gratefully accepted a tissue from Vicky.

Rolling his eyes, Harry looked up towards the giant castle, standing there proud and tall, basking in the awe that it received from the numerous first years. Quickly climbing off the boat, the four walked up towards the castle. Looking around them, it seemed that most of the other first years had arrived, some in various degrees of green, it appeared that Cedric wasn't the only person who didn't like the water.

Standing at the front of the group, facing them whilst stood behind a set of tall wooden doors was a tall, black-haired witch who wore emerald-green robes stood there silently. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that she was not someone to cross. Silence filled the air as the witch examined them carefully, before she spoke.

"Welcome to Hogwarts." She said, and at those words, the large wooden doors behind her swung open. Without a second look, the witch turned around and walked through the doors into the hall leaving the first years behind her.

"After you." Harry murmured behind Cedric as he gave him a prod to move him forward. Unknown to those who proceeded to walk through those doors was that this was something they would never forget.

Author's note: One small change I've made in this chapter from canon is that Bertha Jorkins was killed and made into a horcrux sometime before 1981 as opposed to sometime in 1994. Just for clarification, Steven Jorkins (OC) is a squib. End of. Same sort of story with Broderick Bode- what happened to him in 1994/1995, happened much before hand. I.e. He is in St Mungos at the start of this story, with him starting to get better. His story will be explained later. Although it is implied in the books he has a son, the name was never revealed. Thus we gave the son a name, meet Rodney Bobe everyone.

Vicky Frobisher is not an OC, she is in fact in canon, Gryffindor- although the age and background is unspecified, all we know is that she is a dab hand at charms and Quidditch. Fortunately, I can capitalise on it and make her in Cedric's age group, Muggleborn.

Another thing I have just realised is that this story may appear to be similar to Fettuchini's Knowledge is Power. I have read it, and I can honestly say that this fic will be its own. Not every Harry/Fleur fic is another Lie I've lived or Letters or Deprived. It's just a pairing that I think could work for the construct I've built. Flame me for the story all you like, but if you compare me with others I will deliver whats coming for you, in spades.

JoBH