Disclaimer: For all of you who are not yet aware, J.K. Rowling is the original creator of the Harry Potter series, and I take no ownership of it. The only things I own, is my own story plots, as well as my original characters.
Summary: What if someone opened Harry's eyes to notice the little things? The things he previously never noticed. What if someone helped Harry think things through logically, without actually doing much at all. What if, there was someone who had more information than Harry was supposed to know yet, and actually help him? Read as Harry becomes more independent, as well as breaks away from the prophecy that follows him.
Starts: At the end of the first book.
AN: Hello there, thank you for choosing to read this story, I hope you take the time to appreciate that it takes a long time to give out quality work, and that updates are not always going to be Quick and large. I also wish to make you aware, that I do this as a hobby, and writing practise, not simply to meet my fans needs, though, I'm glad if you do enjoy it, and useful feedback is of course always appreciated.
Pairings: Harry – Pansy.
OC – Daphne G
"Most things end with a scream, some start with one." –Mr. R Blackwood
Prologue
"AAAARGH!"
From the scream alone, Harry knew something was wrong, looking up at Quirrells face; the blistering boils were the most prominent sign of that, the second being the wisps of smoke escaping from in-between Harry's fingers as the defence teachers skin started blackening and turning to ash. "Must be from contact with me, there's no other possibility! Maybe if I hold onto him long enough he won't be able to send any spells"
Quirrells only chance at survival was an attempt to throw the young Gryffindor off from him long enough to raise his wand, however luck was not on the teachers plate, for just after he managed to shake the boy loose and raise his hand, Harry jumped off from the step he was on threw his open palms at the older man's face.
The shrieks of pain were horrendous, but the sound of Voldemort hisses of "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" was just as horrific to Harry. However despite that, he fought on, clinging to the visage of a man possessed by the most evil entity wizarding kind had ever known. Somewhere in Harry's mind, he swore he head someone's voice shouting at the same time "Harry! Harry!"
Finally, Harry felt himself finally get pushed away from Quirrell. And in the short fall to the floor, Harry felt like he never stopped falling, blackness enveloping him before he even landed.
When Harry 'awoke' he felt immensely tired and heavy, but soon realised that he wasn't awake at all, when he finally opened his eyes, he took note of exactly where he was. Or in that instance, wasn't.
The black haired boy was not in the dungeon with Quirrell. Nor was he in the hospital wing where if anyway, he'd hoped to have woken up. He wasn't even back in his cupboard in surrey. As far as Harry was aware, he was inside of his bank vault from Gringotts.
The only light in the exceptionally large room was coming from an unknown source, but seemed to be pointing directly down at him from above somewhere.
"Hello, is anyone there?" came his hoarse voice. Immediately Harry felt like someone was watching him. Turning around in the spot he tried to locate any sign of, well, anything. Unfortunately his search came up empty which only seemed to fuel his anxiety.
"If I'm dead, can we just get this over with? I'd appreciate being able to see my parents as soon as possible." This time, Harry took note of the fact that despite the seemingly endless darkness, there was no echo from his voice.
Just when he was going to attempt to make another comment, he heard a noise. For a few moments, all that Harry heard was silence, as the young Potter heir was about to put it down to paranoia, he heard it again. This time behind him, causing him to swivel in place to get a better look, not daring to move outside of the circle of light.
The noise, seemed to repeat itself a few more times, giving Harry the opportunity to recognise it as footsteps.
"Hello, someone there?"
This time for some reason, the footsteps stopped. However, after squinting and moving his head, in an attempt to get a better view, he made out a dark shape. It wasn't until his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness that he was sure the figure was a person. Man or woman, he wasn't sure. Height, he couldn't make out, nor any other discernable features, the person was just a few footsteps away from giving him a chance to see properly. Whoever it was was masked in the shadows, almost like the darkness was enveloping them in a sort of hold, obscuring them from sight.
"Excuse me, am I dead?"
But the only response was silence.
"Listen, I don't know where I am, or even If I'm alive. Anything you could tell me would be appreciated."
But again only silence. Harry started to consider that maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. Or at least he pondered on the idea for a moment until the figure took a retreating step back.
"Wait, don't go, I don't know what to do?"
Despite his plea, the footsteps slowly started again, this time in the opposite direction.
"Wait! Am I supposed to follow you?" timidly Harry inched slowly towards the edge of the light. Anxiety over leaving what he felt was a safe zone practically oozed out of the young boy.
The moment he attempted to move his foot out from the line, a large booming almost thunderous voice appeared. "HARRY."
The shockwave from the voice knocked Harry to his knees, the strength from his body draining at a disturbing speed until he dropped onto his back facing directly upwards. The light source shining directly downwards into his eyes blinded him for a moment, causing him to close eyes with all his might. The strength to raise his arms for cover lost seconds after the voice.
After waiting but a moment in silence, he opened his eyes to catch a quick glance to check his safety. Only to find he was now looking up from a hospital bed into the eyes of one Albus Dumbledore.
From his position in the bed, which he could feel the fabric of with seemingly renewed senses; he blinked up at the golden half moon spectacles of Albus Dumbledore. "Good afternoon Harry," came the voice of the smiling headmaster.
For a moment, Harry only stared at the man above him, long enough for the memories to come rushing back. "Quirrell! The stone! Sir it was Quirrell, he was after the stone! Well it was actually Voldemort, but they were one in the same!"
The bearded man who sat above the distraught young wizard, smiled and attempted to calm the boy down, but Harry was too concerned with the philosophers' stone being stolen by Quirrell. "Sir you don't understand, Quirrell must have taken the stone from me, you must sto-"
Seeing no other alternative, Dumbledore raised his hand and whispered a few words. Causing the rest of the words coming from Harry's mouth to become silent. "Dear boy you must calm down, or else Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out and I won't get the chance to explain." Seeing Harry close his mouth, a small pout across his face at having been silenced. The elderly wizard cancelled the silencing charm and smiled. "You'll be pleased to know, Quirrell does not have the stone."
Harry' barely left the Professor a moment after talking before he asked the question on his mind, "Then does Voldemort have it?"
"Now Harry, please take a moment to calm down and I will explain fully."
Taking a deep breath and looking around, he realised right away he was in the hospital wing, recognising the white linen sheets and curtains around some other beds in the ward. Glancing to his side, he noticed a table piled high with what looked like half a sweet shop, some seemingly already open. Most likely courtesy of his friend Ron.
"Tokens from your friends and admirers," came an explanation from Dumbledore. "What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a lavatory seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey however felt it might not be very hygienic and confiscated it."
Asking the first question that popped into the young boys head he looked up at the Professor with a worried look upon his face. "How long have I been in here?"
"Three days," the bearded wizard gave Harry a moment to let the severity sink in before saying, "Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."
"But sir, the stone-"
"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say."
"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"
"We crossed in mid-air. No sooner had I reached London that it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you. "
"It was you?"
"I feared I might have been too late."
"You nearly were, I couldn't have kept him off the stone any longer-"
"You misunderstand me Harry; I mean I feared it might have been too late to save you. The effort involved for you it seemed nearly killed you. For a terrible moment, I thought it had. As for the stone, after a discussion with Nicolas flamel, we agreed to have it destroyed."
"Destroyed, but doesn't that mean he and his wife will die?"
"Yes Harry, that is correct, however you have no need to worry, the flamels have enough elixir stored to set their affairs in order, and then, yes, they will die." Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on young Harry's face.
"To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very very long day. After all, to the well organised mind, death is but the next great adventure..."
For a moment, the two sat in relative silence, the only noise in the ward, coming from the mediwitch hustling around in the background.
"Sir," Harry started, "I've been thinking, even if the stone is gone, Voldemort, won't stop will he? I mean, he's going to try and find another way of coming back? Or is he gone for good?"
"No Harry, he unfortunately has not. He is still out there, somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share... not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems like a losing battle next time – and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."
Harry nodded, but stopped that action quickly when his head throbbed painfully. For another silent moment Harry thought up his next question. "Sir there are other things I'd like to know, things I want to know the truth about."
However, just as Dumbledores lips opened to answer, everything seemed to slow down. Harry could physically see everything slowing down to the point of stopping completely. As if everything was like a muggle photograph.
Harry looked around for a moment in confusion only for something to catch his attention. Stuck somehow, upon Dumbledores forehead was an unopened envelope. Looking closely he saw his name in a neat script he didn't recognise in dark purple ink.
"Harry Potter."
Reaching forward from his place on the hospital bed tentatively, he took the letter from the headmasters' brow and looked around. Sure that everything else was as it should be; he turned the envelope around, broke a blank red wax seal and took a piece of paper out.
Looking down at the letter he slowly read the note out loud to himself.
'Dear Harry Potter.
Firstly no matter what you do, do not give this letter to, or read it to Dumbledore.
Hopefully, you're still reading, good, means you want to know what's going on and have accepted the first rule. Let me explain a little bit. You are about to ask the headmaster, why Voldemort came after you specifically-'
At this point Harry was more than gobsmacked, in the span of two sentences, he'd been told not to tell the headmaster about the letter, and somehow, they knew exactly what he was about to ask. Shaking his head in confusion, he reasoned that if he was going to find anything out, he'd have to continue reading.
'-and not someone else. However, you will find that Dumbledore will not tell you, he will simply make up an excuse about you not being ready to hear it. I wish to help you, if you really want to know why it's you that's targeted, you need to be willing to follow the following instructions to the letter.
Throughout this entire affair you must make sure to make no eye contact. When he refuses to answer your question, you say "It is my right to know." No doubt he will refuse still; this is where you must be very careful. You need to tell the Professor, "Sir, I'd prefer to hear about it from someone I trust like you, but if you won't tell me, I'll have to ask other people until I find out."
It is at this point however, that my information fails me, I do know not exactly what his responses will be, and therefore it will be up to you to decide what to do. The fact you faced the dark lord so soon, shows you're a resourceful and smart young man. And before you consider demanding I tell you, I suggest that you keep in mind that you are still an eleven year old muggle raised wizard, if I give you too much information, Albus will know something is amiss, and you will likely not find out until such time as we can meet.
As I have said, if Albus remains as stubborn as I believe he will be upon the matter. The best option is for you to pretend nothing has happened until such time as you return to your summer residence. It is at that point that I will get in contact with you once more.
One last warning before I leave you Mr. Potter. The following school year will be dangerous. More dangerous than a mountain troll on the loose in the lavatory. I beg you keep your wits about you, and take nothing at face value. The sorting hat had a very good reason for wanting to place you into Slytherin. You are a smart and cunning young man; use that intelligence to listen to what you might overhear. Things are not always what they seem.
Sincerely
R. S. B
P.S The time dilation spell will run out approximately five minutes after you finish reading. Be sure that if you take the chance to do anything that you return to the same spot you were in at the beginning.'
Placing the letter down upon the bed sheets between his legs, Harry took a moment to consider everything he just read. It was all simply too much for the black haired young wizard to fully understand but he did his best to take the facts of the situation and lay them out for himself.
'Firstly, Voldemort was Quirrell. That would explain the pain in my scar whenever he was around. Of course I'd have blamed Snape with how he treats me it's no surprise really. And the two of them were always in the same place at the same time, so logically, Snape was the best person to blame.
Secondly, the stone is supposed to be destroyed. So at least whatever happened, Voldemort won't win this time. Professor Dumbledore has already said he thinks that Voldemort is still out there, so we know he'll be back. Best to be careful like the letter said and go from there.
And then of course thirdly, there's this letter. On the one hand, maybe I should give it to the headmaster, he's supposed to be one of the greatest wizards that ever lived, and surely he'd know what to do with it. But on the other hand, the letter says not to tell him. It could be a trap from Voldemort, but the initials, R.S.B, despite the fact I've never heard of them before, I have an odd feeling like whoever it is, really does want to help. Like I want to do what they say.
In the end, there's nothing wrong with not mentioning the letter yet. If I need to I will, but firstly I'll see how accurate it is first. I need answers, and this person has them. If Dumbledore won't tell me, why Voldemort is after me, then I'll do what the instructions say. Then I'll know what's going on.'
Harry sat in silence for the rest of the 3 minutes, waiting for things to return to normal, remembering at the last minute to shove the contents of the envelope underneath his pillow. And just like the letter said, everything slowly started catching back up the just as he left it.
And soon enough Dumbledore finally started the sentence that had been left coming out of his lips for the last five minutes. "The truth," he sighed, "it is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions, unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."
Rewording the question he was originally going to ask, Harry took a moment longer to get the sentence out, causing the Professor to look upon Harry in a concerned grandfatherly manner.
"Voldemort told me something whilst we were down there; he said he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. My question, is if I was just a baby at the time, why would someone like him, choose me to be his target? Why me and not someone else?"
This time, Dumbledore's sigh was much deeper and the already ancient looking wizard seemed to age a little bit more. "Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. I will tell you one day, when you are older. I know you hate to hear this, but when you are ready, you will know."
Seeing the elderly man in front of him, Harry felt like the sadness in the bearded mans face was his fault, he felt like he should give up the line of questioning. But upon leaning back slightly, he felt the paper crumple underneath his pillow from the added weight and instantly realised it was exactly what the letter had said would happen. Shaking his head physically, his earlier headache seemingly gone for now, he sat himself up again this time with renewed vigour.
"Sir I'm sorry but, I can't accept that. If it's something about me, which I'm guessing that it is. Then it's about me specifically, and I have a right to know."
The look upon the headmasters face was a mix of confusion and shock. Confusion over something Harry was unsure of, and shock, Harry could only guess were from him not giving up. But the look quickly faded into a firm but gentle grandfatherly face.
"Harry, I'm sorry. But I do not believe you are ready-"
"Wow, the letter was very accurate, if it was correct about that, then I must keep going."
"Sir I don't agree, I'd prefer to hear about it from someone I trust like you, but I won't give up. If that means I have to ask someone else who might know, then so be it."
After harry's last comment, the face of the headmaster was far from a gentle grandfather. His face turned into that of a strict adult who was unhappy. "Harry, I understand you have been through a great deal. But I must insist you drop this line of questioning, it will not do you any good, to linger upon something you are not yet ready to learn." The look on the headmasters face was very different from the first time he said no. Bowing his head from Dumbledores stern gaze, Harry realised he would have to wait for the letters writer to tell him.
"Now Harry, unless you have any other questions I'll be leaving-"
Seeing the headmaster stand himself up from his sitting position at the corner of his bed, Harry quickly remembered another question he had. "No wait sir, I do have one other thing I wanted to ask you."
Returning to his smiling face, Albus once again sat down upon the end of the bed and motioned for the young boy to continue.
"Sir, down there, why did Quirrell get hurt from my touch?"
"Ah, that I can answer. Your mother, died to save you as you know. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realise that love as powerful as your mothers for you leaves its own mark," at this Harry reaches is hand up to touch his scar, but the action just caused the headmaster to smile softly. "Not a scar Harry no, no visible sign. To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved you has gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. And Quirrell so full of hatred, greed and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."
For a brief moment, Dumbledore took special interest on a small bird out on the window sill, Harry for some reason felt like he was supposed to be upset by this news but all he felt was confusion.
"I'll admit that sounds nice sir. But could it really be something as non corporeal as an emotion?"
Harry swore the older man's head snapped around so quickly it must have hurt, but for the brief moment he saw Dumbledores face, he was unsure what expression he saw. Before he could even try and consider it, the older man shook his head in a tired manner. "Love is a very powerful thing Harry. With an exceptional witch like your mother, it could have meant everything."
Instead of continuing down that line of questioning however, Harry jumped onto a next subject. "Sir, for Christmas I received an invisibility cloak, was it by any chance you who gave it to me?"
"ah, that is correct, Your father happened to leave it in my possession and I thought you might like it," at this point Dumbledores eyes twinkles in their usual fashion, "useful things, your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here, but I'm sure he used it for other things." The last part, the older wizard said with a knowing smile.
"There's something else I wish to ask sir."
"Fire away."
"Quirrell said Snape-"
"Professor Snape, Harry"
"Yes, him – Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father, is that true?"
"Alas that is true. Both Severus and James detested each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr. Malfoy. However, your father did something Snape could never forgive."
"What's that sir?"
"He saved his life."
"What?"
"Yes," Dumbledore said dreamily. "Funny how people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear the thought of being in your father's debt... I do believe, he worked so hard this year trying to protect you because he felt it would even out the life debt he owed your father. Then he could simply go back to hating your father's memory in peace."
"Protect me? I'm sorry Professor, but you call what Snape-"
"Professor Snape, Harry."
Like before however, Harry refused to give a title of Professor to that man. "You call what Snape did to me this year, was protecting me? That is not how I interpreted it."
"Harry my dear boy, Professor Snape, just like myself or any of the other members of staff, have only the students wellbeing in mind. However, if it makes you feel better, I will make sure to have a word with Severus in private."
Sighing in defeat, something he felt like he was doing a lot during the longest conversation he'd had with the supreme mugwump. "I feel we'll have to agree to disagree then Professor."
Receiving only a sad smile and a nod in reply, Harry spoke up one more time. "Sir there's one more thing..."
"Just the one?" his grandfatherly smile firmly re-affixed in place.
"How did I get the stone out of the mirror, when Quirrell couldn't?"
"Ah, now I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the stone – find it, but not use it – would be able to get it. Otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking elixir of life. My brain sometimes surprises even myself..." a jovial kind smile gifted the older wizards' features before he glanced towards Madam Pomfrey's direction, "Now enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bertie Botts Every-Flavour Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit flavoured one, and since then I've rather lost my liking for them-" at this point the headmaster reached his old wrinkled hand into the packet and pulled a single sweet out, "-But I think I'll be safe, with a nice toffee, don't you?" and after popping the golden-brown bean into his mouth, he choked and smiled fondly in Harry's direction. "Alas! Earwax!"
Only a minute after Dumbledore left Harry to his sweets in silence, Madam Pomfrey stalked on over to check on his wellbeing. The medi-nurse was a nice woman, but very strict.
"Just five minutes please," Harry pleaded.
"Absolutely not."
"But you let Professor Dumbledore in..."
"Well of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. You need rest."
"I am resting, look, lying down and everything; oh go on Madam Pomfrey..."
"Well...-"
"Please, if you do, you're free to take some of my sweets?"
"Really Mr. Potter. Trying to bribe me are you?" despite her words, there was a warm and motherly like smile upon the matrons face, "oh very well, but five minutes only."
Shaking her head in an amused way, she nodded to a waiting pair of students at the doorway. The two rushing over to Harry consisting of both Hermione and Ron. "Harry!"
At her exclamation, Harry winced in preparation of Hermione flinging her arms around him, but upon opening his eyes, was glad to see she'd held herself back. Harry was most glad at that fact, as his head was still very sore.
"Oh Harry, we were sure you were going to... well Dumbledore was so worried and..." the worry on his bushy haired friends face was warming to Harry. To know he had friends that worried so for him.
"The whole schools talking about it," was the redheads insert to the conversation.
It wasn't long before Hermione could no longer hold her curiosity back any longer and blurted out, "What really happened?"
Smiling at his friends embarrassed face; he sighed and started his tale. It was one of those rare occasions where the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumours. So Harry told his two friends, of Quirrell; the Mirror; the Stone and Voldemort. Purposely leaving out for the moment, any mention of his weird dream in the darkness. Or the incident with the letter just yet. Both Ron and Hermione were a very good audience, they gasped in all the right places and Hermione even screamed when Harry described Quirrell removing his turban.
Once the story was all told Ron asked a question he was dying to know. "So the stones gone then? Flamels just going to die?"
"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that – what was it? – 'to the well organised mind, death is but the next great adventure'."
"I always said he was off his rocker," was Rons reply, an impressed sort of smile that his hero was so mad.
"So what happened to you two?" said Harry, shaking his head in amusement from Ron's antics.
"Well I got back through the fire all right," said Hermione in a semi smug sort of tone, as if there was any doubt of her being correct in her logic. "I brought Ron round – that took a while – and we were dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met him in the entrance hall. He already knew somehow, he just said, 'Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?' and then he hurtled off to the third floor."
Harry who had been listening intently to his friends' description zoned out for a moment when he realised something was amiss. "Hang on a minute Hermione... Did you say you met Dumbledore in the entrance hall? That can't be right."
With a shocked look upon her face, Hermione looked from Harry to Ron and nodded in response. "What do you mean Harry? That's where we met him."
"But Hermione, think for a moment, that doesn't make sense; you said you were heading for the owlery to contact him. What were you doing anywhere near the entrance hall. The owlery and the entrance hall aren't nowhere near each other. And even if you can explain that, it still doesn't work out. Dumbledore told me, he crossed paths with the owl you sent when he was returning to the castle. How is that possible if you hadn't sent the owl yet?"
For a few minutes after Harry's rebuttal, Hermione was shocked and silent. Despite the fact, that as far as she was aware, that's what happened. She remembered it as if it had just occurred. But Harry's careful picking of words and logic was indisputable. She soon felt a great pressure upon her brain for trying to figure it out and had to sit down on the edge of the bed.
Ron simply looked on in confusion, the severity of what his best friend was saying not fully sinking in, "what are you talking about Harry, of course that's how it happened, I remember it."
"You don't understand Ron, it's impossible for both your stories to be correct, if we assume Dumbledore was telling the truth then yours are a lie, and if we assume you was correct, then his story must be a lie."
Finally after a few moments of obvious deep though, Ron got the idea. "Well we wouldn't lie to you on purpose mate. But this is too confusing for me. How about we give this some thought and come back when we have an idea. Madam Pomfrey will be kicking us out soon, and we still have a lot to talk about."
Nodding in reply to Ron's idea Harry reached over and shook Hermione out of her stupor. The bushy haired witch frowning at the thought that something was wrong with their stories.
"So back to what I was asking mate, you think Dumbledore set you up to all that?"
"It's possible Ron, the more I think about it, the more things would make sense taking that into consideration." Seeing an unhappy look on Hermiones face at the thought of Dumbledore purposely putting them in danger, Harry quickly interjected before she could deny that an authority figure could do something wrong. "Think about it Hermione. Everything that we've gone through in the last while, he's always been involved somehow, even indirectly. He left the mirror out in an unused classroom for a student to find, yes maybe luck had something to do with me being the one to stumble upon it, but I wouldn't have found it at all if I didn't have my cloak. I'd never of been out exploring the castle otherwise. And he's the one that returned the cloak to me. He was the one, who had the final say in the defences, I'm sure of it. And really, if a group of first years can manage to get into that room, then surely he would have known about it. Not to mention, he had Hagrid take the stone from the vault back in Gringotts whilst picking me up. It's all almost like one big test. Like he thought I had to get there to face Voldemort-"Harry stopped when he noticed his friends shiver at the name, shaking his head at his friends' aversion to the name, he continued. "Which brings me up to the next point! Why me? I asked Dumbledore that question and he said I wasn't ready to know. If I just faced Voldemort then I'm sure I'm ready."
Sighing deeply in frustration, Harry looked at the sadly smiling looks on his friend's faces and smiled back at them. "I'm sorry guys, I'm just frustrated."
"Well if it makes you feel any better mate, I reckon Dumbledores barking." And Ron in his attempt to make Harry cheer up, slapped his friend on the back and changed the subject. "I know how to cheer you up mate. Make sure your at the end of year feast tomorrow, the point are all in already. Slytherin won, of course. You missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you, but the food'll be good."
At the exclamation of food, Ron's stomach took the chance to grumble audibly. Causing the three young friends to laugh loudly. Almost immediately afterwards, Madam Pomfrey bustled over, "you've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT."
After a good night's sleep, Harry felt nearly back to normal. When Madam Pomfrey was bustling around at the end of Harry's bed, straightening his many sweet boxes, Harry took the chance to make his request. "Madam Pomfrey, I was hoping to go to the feast," at this point Harry did his best imitation of his Cousin Dudley's pout. The actual expression didn't suit Harry's face at all, but being a grandmother, the matronly woman knew exactly what his pout was for. "I can go, can't I?"
"Professor Dumbledore says you are allowed to go. Though personally, I think you should be careful not to eat too much. Don't want to get a stomach ache before you leave."
Secretly smiling at the young wizards exuberant celebration at being told he could attend, the stern medi-witch turned around with a few of the not completely empty sweet boxes and headed for her office, calling over her shoulder, "by the way you have another visitor." Just before disappearing from sight.
"I wonder who it is." At the exact moment Harry had that though, the large body of Hagrid sidled through the doors, and as usual, when he was indoors, he looked simply too big to be allowed. He sat himself cautiously on a chair next to Harry, took one look at him and burst into tears.
"It's – all – my – ruddy – fault!" he sobbed, his face in his hands, "I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him, it was the only thing he didn't know an' I told him! Yeh could've died! All fer a dragon egg! I'll never drink again! I should be chucked out an' made ter live as a muggle!"
"Hagrid!" said Harry, shocked to see the larger than life man shaking with such grief and remorse, great tears leaking down into his beard. "Hagrid, he'd have found out somehow, this is Voldemort we're talking about, he'd have found out even if you hadn't told him. He might've even killed him."
"Yeh could've died!" Hagrid said in-between sobs, "An' don' say the name!"
"Voldemort!" Harry bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked he instantly stopped crying, "I've met him, and I'm calling him by his name. He won't magically appear and kill you for saying it Hagrid. I swear. Please cheer up Hagrid, we saved the stone, it's gone, he can't use it. Have a chocolate frog to cheer up, I've got loads..."
Wiping his nose on the back of his hand, the secret half-giant chipped up and started rooting around in his pockets, "That reminds me, I've got yeh a present."
"It's not a stoat sandwich, is it?"
At that point Hagrid gave a weak chuckle. "nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday to fix it. 'Course he shoulda sacked me instead – anyway, got yeh this..." finally pulling the item out from his large pockets, revealed a handsome, leather-covered book.
Taking the book, from Hagrid's large hands, he opened it curiously. Revealing it to be full of wizarding photographs, all smiling and waving at him, from every page, was pictures of his mother and father.
"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos...knew yeh didn' have any... D'yeh like it?"
Harry was speechless, but the message came across, Hagrid understood perfectly.
Harry made his way down to the end of year feast alone that night, he'd been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing-about, insisting on giving him one last check-up. By the time he arrived, the great hall was already full, decked out in the Slytherin colours of green and silver to celebrate slytherins winning of the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the high table.
When Harry walked in there was a sudden hush and then everybody started talking loudly at once. Slipping into a seat between Ron and Hermione, he tried to ignore the fact people were standing up to catch a look at him.
Fortunately Dumbledore arrived moments later and the babble died away.
"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... You of course, have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty again before next year starts... Now as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding and the points stand this: in fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty two; Ravenclaw have four hundred and twenty six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy two."
The storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table; Harry could even see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.
"Yes, yes, well done Slytherin." Was Dumbledores only interjection for a moment before he broke the cheering to continue" However, recent events must be taken into account."
The entire hall went very still, ant the slytherins' smiles fades slightly.
"Ahem, I have a few last minute points to hand out, let me see. Yes.. First to Mr. Ronald Weasley...-"
Ron's face instantly went purple in embarrassment for being called out, his face almost looking like a radish with a bad sunburn.
"-... for the best-played game of chess, Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house,... fifty points."
The cheers from the Gryffindor tables nearly raised the ceiling: causing the stars overhead to seem to quiver. Even Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"
At last once there was silence again, Dumbledores voice rose once more, "Secondly to Miss Hermione Granger... for use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house... fifty points."
Was Hermiones turn to blush and bury her face in her arms. Harry also suspected she had burst into tears. Either way he watched as Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves – they were one hundred points up and Dumbledore didn't seem to be stopping just yet.
"Third to Mr. Harry Potter..." at this point the room once more went deadly quiet, "for pure nerve, and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house, sixty points."
The din was deafening, those who could add it up in their head were yelling themselves hoarse, they knew that Gryffindor house now had four hundred and seventy two points – exactly the same as Slytherin. They had drawn for house cup – if only Dumbledore had given Harry even just one more point.
Some of the more reasonable headed people of course, knew that if that was the case, it would be too obvious favouritism to ignore if that happened. But still hoped that he might continue.
"Dumbledore raised his hand, and the room went gradually silent once more, "there are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, a large smile adorning his face, "but it takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to ones friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."
If someone had been standing just outside the great hall that moment, they might have thought for a second that some kind of explosion had taken place. So loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table, as well as a few from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw too. For many didn't want Slytherin to win, even if it wasn't them that had managed it.
Harry Ron and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him.
Harry still cheering, took note of the Slytherin tables murderous looks, specifically Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more shocked and horrified if he'd been cursed.
"Which means," Dumbledore called out over the storm of applause, "that a change of decoration is in order." And with a clap of his hands, the green hanging became scarlet red, and the silver blossomed into gold. The Slytherin snake slithering off, almost to sulk, only for its place to be stolen by a proud Gryffindor lion. Snape was also seen shaking Professor McGonagall's hand with a horribly forced smile upon his face.
When the resident potions Professor caught Harry's eye, the young Gryffindor knew that Snapes feelings towards him hadn't changed.
Although things seemed to be getting back to normal, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts, Harry knew things were not all as they seemed. All things mainly revolving around strange dreams, odd occurrences and then to top it all off, the strange behaviour of one, Albus Dumbledore.
Still, it was the best evening of Harry's life so far, better than winning at Quidditch or Christmas when he received his first gifts from the Weasleys. Even better than knocking out the mountain troll. He would certainly never forget tonight.
With everything that had happened, Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but, just on time, they did. And do their great surprise Harry and Ron both passed with good marks. Hermione of course came top of the tear, or at least top of the Gryffindors. A fact she repeatedly mentioned her sorrow about to the two.
"I can't believe I wasn't top student if the year. It's ridiculous. Did you know I was only 10 marks away from top?"
"Yes Hermione, we've heard you telling us about it for the last hour since the results come back."
"Well still, it's ridiculous. I'll certainly be corresponding with the examination board...-" after a while the two boys just zoned their bushy haired friends' words out. They did ok on their results, but having Hermiones 'near perfect' results flaunted in their face since the grades came out, the two was starting to get sick of it.
Harry was having a near silent conversation with Ron when something Hermione said seemed to catch his attention.
"What was that last part you said Hermione?"
"Really Harry, if you'd have been listening to me in the first place I wouldn't have to repeat myself" for a moment the girl pouted and huffed at the boys seemingly complete lack of interest in her scholastic status. Seeing Harry's face start turning into a glare, she relented and repeated her last sentence, "I said, that I don't understand how someone who transferred into Hogwarts, the same night we was in the third floor, could have gotten top marks."
"Someone transferred in? Who?" came the response of Ron who grew more interested in his female friends words by the minute, he after all, just like Harry, he had no recollection of anything of the such happening.
Hermione however, whether unintentionally ignored or simply carried on despite the interruption, kept talking fro where she left off. "-Especially since no one has even seen the person. No one knows if it's a boy or girl. Just their initials."
Harry's mind seemed to jump a few steps, and he wasn't sure why but he had a distinct feeling, "Were the initials by any chance, R.S.B?"
With a smile on the bushy haired witches face, she turned to Harry and perked up, "That's correct, I'm glad one of you was listening earlier-" Whilst Harry zoned out and started thinking of the letter he received, the one bearing the same initials. Hermione started her earlier tirade all over again, the idea that Harry was listening making it worthwhile to her, though she never noticed that the black haired wizard was lost in a world of his own. Leaving poor Ronald to sigh and nod his head every time the young witch asked if he felt the same.
"I'm sure it's not a coincidence that the same night we went and faced Voldemort, Dumbledore was gone, as well as some new student bearing the same initials as the letter I received all happen at the same time. Maybe.. maybe Dumbledore was leaving Hogwarts to go and personally pick up the new student. And as a teacher, Quirrell knew Dumbledore was going and planned his attempt at the stone. It seems the most logical."
When Harry finally finished his musings over his latest bit of development, he caught the end of Hermione mentioning that Neville had managed to get good enough grades in his Herbology course, to make up for the grades that Snape regularly marked him down for in potions.
Not so secretly, the trio had hoped that Crabbe and Goyle, both malfoys' bodyguards, had failed enough to be thrown out, but unfortunately not enough luck. It was a shame, but as Ron said, 'you couldn't have everything in life'. Rather profound for his redheaded friend, but still, the point rung true.
Before they knew it, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks packed, and Neville's toad found lurking in a corner of the toilets. Notes handed out to all the students' warning them not to use magic over the holidays. Harry distinctly remembered one of the twins saying sadly that they always hoped they'd forget to hand the notes out.
Hagrid was waiting by the same place they entered the castle their first night, standing beside a fleet of boats that sailed them all across the lake. Giving everyone enough time to let it settle in that they were leaving the magical, in every sense of the word, school behind.
Soon all of the students were filing into the Hogwarts express. The older students laughing and talking amongst themselves as Harry and his friends scurried in to find a compartment for themselves.
Once secured away in their compartment, the trio talked about small things, made jokes to lighten the mood. And watched as the countryside they were passing by, became greener and tidier; eating Bertie-Bott's-every-flavour beans as they sped past muggle towns. Once closer to civilisation, they pulled off their wizard robes and instead put on jackets and coats. Finally pulling into platform nine and three quarters.
It took a while for them all to get off the platform. An old wizard guard by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gateway in two's and three's, Harry guessed it had to do with not attracting muggle attentions, when large groups of people just appeared out of mid-air, with only one or two, it could be passed off as trick of the light and them walking from behind the pillar.
Either way, Ron, Hermione and Harry all walked towards the barrier. Harry waving, as many people called "bye Harry!" and "see you Potter!" before the trio passed through the barrier.
"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron, his face covered from an ear to ear grin at the prospect. "Both of you, I'll send you an owl with the invite."
"Thanks!" was Harry's reply, also grinning at the idea of not having to spend the entire summer back with his 'relatives'. "I'll need something to look forward to."
"See you next year, Harry." Came the comment from someone who passed them. Harry didn't get a good look of who it was but an odd feeling of déjà-vu occurred. Causing the young boy to shiver in the spot.
Ron, who was unaware of the boys' plight patted him on the back, "Still famous Harry." A large grin on his freckled face.
"Not where I'm going Ron, I promise you that," came the automatic response. The situation of living with the Dursleys again, having been playing on his mind for the better part of a week.
The moment Harry and his friends came into sight, a squeal of "There he is, mum, there he is, look!"
It was Ron's younger sister, Ginny Weasley. But she wasn't pointing at her brother Ron, "look, mum! I can see him, it's Harry Potter-"
"Be quiet Ginny dear, and it's rude to point." Mrs. Weasley said with a warm smile on her face, Ron's mum, who Harry remembered from the first time he saw her in the same station a year prior, was just as he recalled. Slightly on the large side, but a warm smile and a motherly aura to her. "Busy year?" she asked.
"Very," said Harry, "And thank you very much for the fudge and the jumper, Mrs. Weasley."
"Oh it was nothing dear."
However the conversation between the two was interrupted, "Ready, are you?" It was uncle Vernon. Still purple faces, still moustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry carrying an owl in a cage in the middle of a station full of ordinary people. Behind the large man, stood his aunt petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry. Probably not wanting any more pork based accessories.
"You must be Harry's family!" was the polite word from Mrs. Weasley, doing her best to calm the whale of a man down from his furious expression. However the very act of being spoken to seemed to make him even more angry, his face now a puce colour.
"In a manner of speaking," came the gruff response from the fat man that instantly started waddling away from the group. "Hurry up boy, we haven't got all day."
Harry however hung back to get a last word with both Ron and Hermione. Trying to ignore the shocked looks on their faces from the way his uncle had behaved.
"See you over the summer then." Was Rons comment, his eyes following Harry's uncle turn back around at the car and look in their directions.
"Hope you have – er – a good holiday" came Hermiones reply. The bushy haired witch also looking uncertainly at Uncle Vernon's unpleasantness.
Ignoring his first gut reply of making some joke, Harry instead told his friends the truth. "I hope so, I'll definitely try at least. I'll be seeing my friends either way." At Harry's last words, he gently slapped his two friends on their shoulders.
At the exact same time however, his uncle Vernon's meaty hand landed on his shoulder, gripping him all the much too tightly whilst pulling him too forcefully away from his friends, the end result, Harry laying on the floor with his trunk falling with a heavy thud against his chest. Knocking the wind out him, as well as bruising a rib.
Though the impact of the heavy chest against his body was ignored, by the people around, due to the fact that the moment Harry had started falling, his uncle Vernon was hit with a bright purple spell. The impact of the magic sending Harry's uncle flying back almost 2 feet before he bounced into a sitting position.
The hectic situation was so fast; nobody noticed Vernon's eyes lacking any pigmentation in them at all for the first 5 seconds. By the time Harry's aunt and cousin had rushed over to help the larger than life man up to his feet, his eyes had recovered.
The next ten minutes seemed to whiz by in a flurry of motion. Once uncle Vernon had gotten back to his feet, he took a deep breath and waddled back to the car, shaking his head a few times as if trying to knock a few cogs back into place. Aunt petunia, for one of the rare occasions in her life, took the driving seat. Whilst Harry was told to get in the back seat next to Dudley. Something he did with minimal fuss. The whole incident seemed to have shocked both Harry and his uncle into a silence. His uncle for spell related issues, but Harry simply due to shock of things having happened so quickly.
In a rush to get her husband and son home to privet drive, petunia, who had little driving experience, went through a red light or two. Though no police action took place.
Eventually Harry found himself the only person in the car, looking out the window at the other houses in the neighbourhood of privet drive. Noticing once again, that every house looked exactly the same. Looking around he realised he was alone, something he hadn't felt since he'd left for Hogwarts.
Sighing deeply to himself, he made his way out the car and to the back of the vehicle to get his trunk and Hedwig out. Once he'd removed his belongings out of the car, he slowly dragged them up the driveway and to the door.
Once he made his way into the house a slightly odd feeling overwhelmed him, the thought occurred that despite what happened at the station, his uncle hadn't made any comments about his freakishness or anything of the nature. Even odder, since he'd entered the car, his aunt, uncle and cousin were all giving him odd looks. Almost as if they were seeing him for the first time.
Was only when Harry had gotten half way up the stairs heading towards Dudley's old spare bedroom, which he'd been graciously given, that there was any sign of anyone else being there. His cousin peering at him from his own bedrooms doorway, though once he realised Harry had noticed, he darted back in his room. Leaving Harry to take his things into his 'bedroom' in peace.
Though the moment Harry had copied Dudley's actions of disappearing into his room, he was startled to find that things were not how he left them.
"Hello, Mr. Potter, sir."
Harry's response, a rather loud shout of surprise. "Ahh!"