Blackbird
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He was an unknown factor. From the moment he entered into the Hogwarts' Great Hall, he had everyone exactly where he wanted them. He was a Ravenclaw, yet he was a Hufflepuff. Slytherin swore he was in their house, while Gryffindor rambled of their adventures with the resident Saviour.
He was a mystery – not even Headmaster Dumbledore, to all his great wisdom and understanding of human nature, could have described Harry Potter if asked. The Boy-who-lived was an enigma.
He sat with all of the houses in a rotating cycle. He was seen in all of the common rooms. He was friendly with the Slytherin ice prince and his entourage, exchanged jokes with the Gryffindor red heads, pranked people with the Ravenclaw misfits and took part in the Hufflepuff study groups. All the professors liked him, even the snarky Potions professor known for his short temper and sharp tongue.
The first potions class with The Harry Potter was recorded forever in every young mind present to witness it. When the feared bat of the dungeons had billowed inside the classroom, barking insults and singling the saviour out, they had not know what to expect. After all, both the Gryffindor and Slytherin sides of the room had already talked with him, and neither was any wiser from it. They did not know what to expect, but it had not at the very least been what happened. The boy had smiled. He had smiled at the professor staring at him like one stares at something smelly and undistinguishable one has stepped on, and proceeded to explain the new potion he had come up with to cure problems with eyes – the very same potion that had fixed his own eyesight a year before.
Professor Snape granted him the use of his personal brewing quarters whenever the boy wished to use them, and he was not using them himself.
Harry Potter always knew what to say. He was seen talking with all the professors, providing intelligent conversation partner to even the easily excitable and knowledgeable Ravenclaw Head of House. Even so, when first year ended – after the mysterious death of one of the professors, a poor bloke with a bad stutter (not that anyone hadn't expected it, what with the rumoured curse on the Defence Against the Dark Arts position that he held) – none of the professors could have told you anything specific of the one Harry Potter.
No one was surprised when the Prophet published an article detailing the advancement of the famous Boy-who-lived to the fourth year level of Hogwarts. None of his friendships – if you could call them that – suffered from it, since he mingled with students from each year group. The concern brought up by Headmaster Dumbledore, over the fact that the advancement could cause problems with his social progress, was easily ignored by the Ministry of Magic in the face of all the evidence.
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The first few weeks of Harry Potter's second/fourth year saw a strange man visiting Hogwarts. He first appeared the day students came back, gliding in to the Great Hall next to the saviour, smiling an inviting smile and seeming perfectly harmless, yet somehow dangerous beyond imagination at the same time. The Boy-who-lived introduced the man as his guardian. The students were confused by the clatter of a fork hitting a plate, and the look of utter surprise that was seen flickering across the wizened Headmaster's face, before it was quickly followed by a benign smile and an invitation for some tea in his office.
The man was later seen leaving Hogwarts through the front gates, without a hair out of place, but seeming somehow pleased about something. His smile, had anyone been able to see it from behind him, would have promised both pleasure and pain for the future. Whose, would remain to be seen. A very thoughtful looking Headmaster with a frown on his face turned into a very yellow canary with a frown on its face at the breakfast next morning. He didn't even seem to notice this, merely continuing to sit still even after changing back. His frown was matched by the Weasley twins.
When Harry Potter expressed an interest in taking his OWLs a year early, or four years early, if you wanted to look at it from that angle, the days were getting shorter and air was turning brittle with the feeling of frost. While Headmaster Dumbledore was reluctant to allow it, his opinion was greatly outnumbered by the rest of the professors. The Headmaster's protests died down when students started getting petrified and his attention was directed to solving the secret behind the incidents. While all this was occurring, the young wizard studied for and sat his OWLs in silence.
After several more incidents of petrifications, the Ministry of Magic expressing their worry over the current Headmaster's lack of action, and the mysterious appearance of the long-missing Peter Pettigrew, assumed dead, in a gift box complete with a pink bow at the Minister of Magic's homely abode (The Prophet wrote a long article of the case, explaining Sirius Black's innocence and including a picture of the pyjama-clad Minister smiling broadly with one foot on the whimpering, half-bald, mousey man) Hogwarts saw a sudden period of calm, when the cases of petrification stopped without a clear cause or reason.
Students and The Prophet alike speculated on the cause, theories ranging from a rogue basilisk to Dumbledore being replaced by the Dark Lord to take over Hogwarts from the inside, but since nothing came out of the rumours, the excitement slowly died down and after the last of the petrified students was released from the Hospital Wing, the whole thing was soon completely forgotten, only to be mentioned on the more recent pages of Hogwarts: A History in the years to come.
With the end of the year came the festive atmosphere of approaching Holidays. The Prophet told of Sirius Black being released into the experienced hands of St Mungo's mediwizards and witches and The Quibbler enthused about the first ever photograph of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack to be published. The same strange man that had been frequenting Hogwarts the previous Fall was seen walking into the Great Hall once more, greeting the Boy-who-lived with a mysterious smile and a polite nod.
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During the summer, the staff and students of Hogwarts finally learned the mysterious man's name, or perhaps the lack of it thereof, when the Prophet wrote an extensive article of him and his pet shop in the recently built Chinatown section in muggle London. Count D, it was explained, was the descendant in a long line of counts – there was not much to be told of them for the little proof and facts documented, but the Prophet compensated for the lack of information with the vast theories on the Count's origins and past. The most popular one amongst the student population included vampires, romance and underground conspiracies between long dormant bloodlines.
Harry Potter remained uncaring to all of this, informing Hogwarts of his intention to finish his Newts and magical schooling during his next year at the castle. Once again, Headmaster Dumbledore expressed his objections over the Boy-who-lived receiving special treatment, but his opinion was lost in the crowd of approving nods from the Board of Governors and the rest of the teaching staff.
Thus, when the Saviour of the wizarding world followed his guardian, the mysterious Count D, to the Great Hall the following Fall to finish his last year of schooling, he was greeted with pleasant chatter and hints for the upcoming NEWTS from the upper years. Harry Potter answered all the greetings directed at him, smiling readily at the slight jabs at his fast paced studies. The Malfoy scion approached him to ask about a recent piece of new progress in the field of Potions, and the Weasley twins requested his insight on the new prank project of theirs. The professors watched this all from the sidelines, smiling in a pleased fashion at the show of house unity.
Count D was once again overseen walking with the Headmaster, heading for his office, while accepting a lemon drop with the delighted air of a child. The Headmaster did not seem to quite know what to make of it, and merely smiled his ever benign smile – that was starting to wear down at the edges – while asking the Count about any recent additions to his pet shop. As was becoming the generally accepted tradition, the morning following the Count's visit found Headmaster Dumbledore sitting at the Great Table with a frown and no reaction to turning into a poodle. The Weasley twins mirrored his frown yet again, and their younger brother was heard telling his year mates about the troubles he went through when the twins used him as a guinea pig for their experiments in the never ending strive for getting through to the Headmaster during one of his "frown sessions".
As the season changed to winter and the first snow fell, blanketing the castle grounds in an undisturbed scenery of white, the NEWTS students were becoming more and more occupied with their studies. Harry Potter alone remained unaffected, not breaking his patterns. Had someone asked his peers about his study habits, they would have been hard pressed to tell exactly when and where he did his studying – the only information they could part with was his attendance to the study groups of the Ravenclaws every Wednesday in the old charms classroom on the 3rd floor.
As the winter was drawing to its end and the professors busied themselves with the graduation plans, it was realized that none of the staff knew what Harry Potter's house was. Snape was sure he was a Slytherin, while McGonagall claimed him one of his lions. Sprout noted that no, he was a Hufflepuff, god bless him, while Flitwick piped up about his prized raven. In the confusion, Headmaster Dumbledore was seen frowning once more and looking concerned for some reason.
The NEWTS came and went, and the Boy-who-lived was reported to appear confident despite having taken 8 different subjects. When asked how he felt about his exams, the boy only offered a smile and a noncommittal "Who knows".
When the results arrived, everyone knew to expect the straight line of Os – and one E (which for the first time in anyone's memory caused a frown to appear on the always calm face of Harry Potter) – and congratulated him with good humour. A lower year Ravenclaw, a bushy haired girl named Granger, approached him to ask for his thoughts on the NEWTS and their relevance in wizarding education. No one noticed the lone figure of Harry Potter's guardian, smiling his ever present smile in the corner of the Great Hall.
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The day of the graduation of Harry Potter and his peers dawned bright and warm. Unfortunately, this did not last long, for the cheerful chatter and laughter was soon replaced by screams of terror and panicked stomping of feet as the students scrambled around and over each other to get away from the Great Hall – the reason for the panic was clear for everyone to see. Hogwarts had been invaded, from inside no less, by a good fifty or so Death Eaters. How they got in, even after the chaos, no one could tell, not even the Headmaster – only one thing was clear; They were in, and there was no way out. The students were surrounded.
As his peers were rushing around trying to find a way to escape from the situation, Harry Potter and his guardian, Count D, remained seated at their choice of table for the day – Hufflepuff – smiling their ever present smiles, seemingly not the least perturbed by the ruckus around them. The students, one by one, found their gazes directed towards the pair, and the scrambling calmed down, finally coming to a full stop. The whole Great Hall was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Harry Potter stood up.
Appearing quite calm and collected, still smiling, the Boy-who-lived strode from his chair, across the hall and towards the figure standing at the centre of the masked Death Eaters. Just as calmly, the figure let his hood drop, drawing gasps from around the Hall. There wasn't a single person who didn't realize who they were looking at. The red eyes would have been a dead give away, in any situation.
"Voldemort", a calm and out of place greeting rang out.
"Potter."
The students and professors held their breath, not quite sure what was happening. The Death Eaters held just as still, waiting for a sign, for something that would tell them how to proceed. Harry Potter glanced at them, letting his eyes pass over all of the gathered people, finally bringing his gaze back to the central figure.
"You have gathered quite the following, once again."
Voldemort seemed pleased for some reason, by this. Smiling a smile so vastly different from the boy's facing him, he fingered his wand, appearing to be thinking of something. Then he spoke again, in a whispery, snakelike voice.
"I have come to kill you, Potter. I will allow you to beg for your life, and if you beg well enough, maybe it will be short and painless."
Harry Potter just smiled, as calmly as ever, and the students had to wonder how an E in an exam could bring a frown to the face that facing a Dark Lord didn't even touch. The Boy-who-lived turned his back to the snakefaced man, surprising the whole Hall except for the lone figure he motioned to come to him. Count D rose from his seat, where he had remained until now, and walked to stand by him.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Voldemort. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Count D, Harry's guardian", the Count greeted the Dark Lord, pleasantly, as if they were discussing the weather over cookies and tea, instead of standing on a soon-to-be-battlefield.
The Dark Lord did not seem as calm or pleased anymore. He gripped his wand tightly, and raised it, pointing the glowing tip towards the boy who had been a thorn in his side from his very birth.
"This will be your end, Potter."
Even as he finished this sentence and fired the first spell with a jab of his wand, Harry Potter had already ducked the spell, and was standing next to the Dark Lord. The gust of wind caused by his sudden and fast movement fluttered the hair of the most feared man in Britain, as he blinked in surprise – and crumpled to the floor, dead.
There were no spells, no fanfares. It was over in a flash, without anybody seeing what the Boy-who-lived had even done. The Dark Lord's lifeless eyes were locked at the figure of his downfall, even in death, surprise still evident in them. The Death Eaters stood still, unable to comprehend what had happened. That was their first, and final mistake that day.
Before the famous Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards, could even utter the first syllables of a stunning curse, the Death Eaters were sprawled on the floor of Great Hall in a strange, bizarre scene out of the land of dreams. All of their faces were frozen, now eternally, in a look of utter surprise.
The Headmaster cleared his throat, the sound ringing loud and clear in the oppressing silence. Harry Potter turned from his position near the last of the Death Eaters to fall, smiling at the man, returning his benign smile at him. The Headmaster's words froze in his throat.
"I think we shall be taking our leave now. Thank you for the years, professors", came the clear, calm voice of the one Harry Potter, as he glanced knowingly at the mute Headmaster, who could only nod jerkily.
Count D moved from the other side of the room, and for a moment the students would've sworn they saw the shadows of thousands of animals, before they disappeared into that of the man's. Count D graced them all with his mischievous smile, before turning to offer his hand to his protégé, and leading him through the doors of the Great Hall. They clanged shut behind the pair, with a sighing woosh of air. Nobody moved for several minutes afterwards.
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Later, when the Prophet had finished writing stories about the 2nd doom of the Dark Lord that no one even knew had returned, and the mysterious events leading to it, Sirius Black was released from St Mungo. His first destination was the very school that provided the scene for the First and Last Battle of the 2nd Wizarding War against Voldemort, seeking out the Headmaster of the said school. When confronting him about his godson, Harry Potter, and his whereabouts, all he received was a slightly concerned and confused look.
"There is no such student here, Sirius. Are you quite alright? James and Lily Potter never had a son."
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In other place, namely the fairly recent Chinatown sector of London, in a place where miracles can occur and mysteries abound, a young police officer entered a pet shop he frequented in the hopes of busting the owner of illegalities he was surely conducting behind the scenes of a normal, harmless pet store.
"Hiya, Count D. Any new victims to confess about?"
He was rewarded with a displeased look and a sound of indignation from the addressed person, clad in a gloriously patterned yukata.
"Dear Detective, how many times do I have to tell you that we do not sell anything dangerous? We deal in dreams, not nightmares!"
The police officer made a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat, dropping down on the comfortable sofa while shoving the cat napping on it out of the way, receiving a disgruntled yowl and a swat at his hand as reward. Then he turned his attention back to the count, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
"What's with the bird?"
For there, on Count D's shoulder, was sitting a huge bird with the blackest feathers he had ever seen, and gorgeous glittering emerald eyes. Count D smiled at him, reaching to stroke the birds head with his other hand, eliciting pleased croons from it.
"This? He's a recent addition to the store. A very rare and extremely companionable species, yet ferocious when angered. Isn't he beautiful?"
If it had been possible, the officer would have thought the bird was smiling at him – a calm, pleasant smile, while his emerald eyes glittered with mirth.
"Yes, a nice bird you've got there, Count. Got any tea?"
The Count only sighed and turned to prepare said beverage, while the bird let out an amused trill.
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AN: This story is unbetaed. If you find any mistakes, please tell me so that I can fix them - English is not my first language. Also, as usual - please Review. If you really like this story, I would not be adverse to writing a more detailed version or something different entirely.