Disclaimer: Neither of us own Harry Potter. It'd be damn cool if we did, but...
Author's Note: This is a collaborative work. Credo means two things in Latin - a set of rules to live by, and 'I believe'.
Author's Note: This is everything many people wished Kaleidoscope was. No Sharingan, and no Nasu - no ubergimmicks, you see?
Credo
The glass of water slipped from his grasp easily as he contemplated the letter in front of him.
He knew it. He knew it. He knew it.
He was someone special, someone destined to soar beyond the norm. A wizard.
He barely noticed when Uncle Vernon turned a shade of deep puce and literally screamed in his ear. He didn't notice at all when Aunt Petunia gave several hoarse shrieks. He did notice when Dudley slammed him into the wall, but, for once, he didn't care.
"I'm off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of oz", he muttered, feeling slightly deranged. He took several calming breaths, and remembered that he had couldn't respond by owl as specified.
He bit his lip. Surely they wouldn't disallow him from attending if he didn't respond?
The days blended together in eager anticipation as he discovered that he was, indeed, correct. Letter after letter was sent, and his relatives got more and more concerned. Harry smirked pleasantly as they were loaded into a car and smiled in relief when letters were received at the hotel they were staying in.
He didn't even mind Dudley's complaints when Vernon loaded them onto a motorboat, gripping a package that looked vaguely illegal.
Harry had only slept in the early hours of the morning for several days, nursing a sort of strained anticipation. Twelve A.M., Dudley's watch beeped.
"Happy birthday to-"
The door fell off its hinges in a cannon blast.
"Me", Harry finished.
A giant of a man stood in the doorframe, and the rest was history long forgotten.
The next morning dawned early, but Harry did not wake until the sun was high in the air - the sleepless nights had caught up to him.
He followed Hagrid in a magically enhanced row-boat, muttering to himself about the possibilities quietly. Would he be able to turn things into others? Enchant brooms to dance and sweep? Throw bolts of fire around? Or would he be more of an advisor, a lord of intellect and wisdom? A true wizard to the etymology of the word? He quietly glanced at Hagrid. The huge man didn't look very wise.
He would have to wait and see.
Credo
Following Hagrid into the seemingly ramshackle affair the man had called the Leaky Cauldron, Harry couldn't help but wonder what awaited him in this new world. When Hagrid made mention of his name, he found out immediately. He was the target of instant adoration on a scale he had never seen outside of huge celebrities he had managed to get a peek of on the telly a few times.
He didnt know what to make of that, honestly.
He didnt remember doing anything terribly special, but these people were treating him as if he were the Second Coming! He had never had such attention focused on him before, and it was overwhelming, even with Hagrid there to act as buffer for their overager attempts to shake his hand or hug him.
When they managed to make their way into Diagon Alley, Harry looked around with eager eyes, seeing all the strange and potentially exciting things on display for sale. Some of them were obvious as to their purpose with a bit of common sense- a cauldron for brewing potions in, ink and parchment for writing on, that sort of thing.
Others, well... not so much. He didn't know what use that strange looking thing had, but he also wasn't terribly eager to find out either. The device in question was a black iron crown of some sort, rife with a sort of heavy magic - magic even he could feel, untrained as he was.
The people here paid them little mind, which was a relief after the incident with a cauldron and a pair of glass rods, and Harry was content to stay in Hagrid's shadow as they walked down a quiet sidestreet. This would give him the time to recover his wits.
Following along dutifully behind the extra-large man, they made their way to a gleaming marble buidling that Hagrid said was called Gringotts London, the wizarding bank. As they walked in, Harry took in the rows of bleacher-style seats, each of them occupied by wizened-looking beings of presumably small stature with long, beaky noses and sharp teeth. Each of them was occupied with business they were devoting considerable attention to, although there were several on the ground floor that were taking customers from the lines that stretched halfway down the lobby.
While Harry was an inquisitive child sometimes, these beings didn't look like they would tolerate that sort of thing, so he kept quiet and let Hagrid show him the ropes here. After all, surely the man had plenty of experience working with these beings and so knew how to avoid making it worse... right?
One thing he was sure of - his life wouldn't be boring for a good, long while!
Credo
After withdrawing a rather large sum in a nondescript burlap bag, provided for the 'mere' price of fourteen silver sickles, Hagrid took Harry around Diagon Alley proper to meet his shopping needs.
Everywhere, people stared at Harry, and Harry could feel himself shrinking under their gaze. He didn't want the attention.
Didn't want.
Didn't- Harry glanced down, and found himself to be slightly more transparent than he was previously. He gave a surprised yelp, and the cool touch of magic that had coiled about his body slid off in a hurry.
Hagrid turned around, but Harry was beside the big man already, muttering reassurances and pointing at the huge cracks between the cobblestones in the street in feigned embarrassment.
"That's a wand shop", Harry exclaimed suddnely, unable to keep his voice down. "A wand."
"Yer." Hagrid nodded, looking every bit as excited as Harry.
Harry walked into Ollivander's and was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer flavor of the magic in the room.
"Mr. Potter."
Harry jumped, spinning around, his hands in front of his face defensively. "You must be Mr. Ollivander", Harry said, realizing he had nearly punched the wandmaker in the jaw.
"I remember the day your parents-"
"Really? What were they like?" Harry asked urgently.
"James Potter, Eleven inches, Mahogany, pliable, core of Dragon Heartstring, from a nasty Hebridean Black. Fantastic for Transfiguration and Glamours. Lily Evans, Ten and a quarter inches, Willow, swishy, core of a particularly difficult to catch Unicorn. Unparalleled ability with Charms."
"My parents couldn't have been that short", Harry deadpanned.
"Those were the qualities of their wands, Mr. Potter." It was evident that Ollivander didn't understand that Harry was joking.
"Try this, Eleven inches, Vine, with a Dragon Heartstring core." Harry waved the wand, and was rewarded with a slightly dead feeling in his hand. He dropped it in revulsion.
"No no, not good at all." Ollivander snatched the wand away from Harry and took another off the shelf.
Harry tried wand after wand after wand to no avail. Hagrid sneezed rather loudly as Ollivander sent up clouds of dust in his search for a good wand.
Harry sighed, picking up yet another. A huge plume of wind flew out of it, scattering all the wands he had tried already. Ollivander, who had looked rather excited beforehand, shook his head in defeat.
"Holly and Kraken Seed, Twelve inches, very... potent."
"Kraken seed?" Harry whispered, horrified.
Ollivander looked almost sorry for a moment. "Well, give it a wave."
The jet of water knocked Hagrid off his feet.
"No."
"Holly and... Troll remains, eleven inches, good for... necromancy."
"Necromancy!" Hagrid roared in disbelief.
Harry waved the wand and the room rattled.
"No, this won't do."
"Holly and Phoenix feather, eleven inches, very, very powerful."
Harry gave an inexplicable jab, and wild lightning pooled at the tip. It was marvelous - his hand felt warm and something within him simply resonated with it. There was the sound of thunder as he pointed it in the direction of the window. The windows shattered into drops of molten glass as the Lightning hit it.
"Wicked."
Ollivander looked torn. On the one hand, the wand clearly reacted to Harry, and powerfully at that. On the other hand, the reaction was rather destructive...
"Let's try a different wand, shall we," he asked as pleasantly as he could with his hair standing on end from the electrical discharge from being in close quarters to the wand.
"Aw," Harry whined. "Can't I get this one, please?" he asked, pouting as Dudley did. His eyes glistened in hope - he wanted the blasting wand, dangnabit!
"If no other reacts to you as well," responded Ollivander, quietly praying that a wand would appear that was better suited - and more controlled.
Harry went through more than fifty other wands before Ollivander gave up and allowed Harry to purchase the Holly wand he wanted. It was the only one that drew such a strong reaction that wasn't obviously a clash of incompatible magics. Harry payed the seven galleons for the wand.
Hagrid shuddered in relief. It was almost as bad as the cart rides in Gringotts, with all the myriad reactions Harry got from the wands Ollivander tried. He had been soaked in water, almost zapped by lightning to death, pelted with scraps from an exploded shelf... It hadn't been what he expected. He didn't hold it against Harry, as he knew the boy couldn't control what happened when a wand rejected him, but leaving had been a high point in his day.
"Where to next, Hagrid?" asked Harry innocently, his hand never far from his instrument of ter- his new wand. Hagrid looked at him levelly for a moment, then nodded to himself.
"Right then," he decided. "Let's go place yer order in Madam Malkin's, 'n then go get yer trunk. Yer gonna need a trunk t' carry yer stuff in, y'know. Better t' get it early and jes' keep yer things in it as ye get 'em..."
"Makes sense," admitted Harry as he followed the gentle giant around. After getting his clothing, Harry wandered into the Trunk store. This was an important thing for him- after all, if he had a good trunk, he may be able to sneak some things in to Hogwarts that he would rather people not know about... though to be honest he didn't have anything of that sort yet...
"What can I do for ye, lad," asked the shopkeep, an older man with a receeding hairline.
"I'm looking for a trunk," said Harry, in what he hoped was an innocent tone, "Preferrably one with a lot of storage space- I'm something of a pack rat, y'see, and I'd like to be able to keep my things with me..."
The man nodded. "Goin' t' Hogwarts, huh," he grunted. "I got a few like that, nothin' special, but they'll get the job done easily enough. C'mon lad, let's get you kitted up..."
Twenty minutes later Harry was in possession of a nice trunk of white birch with nice, clean lines and a sturdy lock to ensure that nobody would get in that he didnt want to get in. It had a plentifully expanded interrior, enabling him to store pretty much anything he might pick up for the next few years easily.
After that was the book store.
Harry's face blossomed into a smile as he looked up the sheer amount of knowledge available. After the prerequisite schoolbooks, he turned to the Shopkeep and asked, in his best faux-innocent voice, "Do you have a book on..."
Credo
"I'm telling you, Mr. Potter, Elemental Magics are for students attempting N.E.W.T. supplements and pre-Mastery training!"
"What's an N.E.W.T.? And what's a Mastery?"
The owner of Flourish and Blotts, a surly man at forty five, sighed and began explaining it in succinct sets of phrases that made Masteries seem like a lot of work.
It couldn't be that bad, right?
"I'll take the Elements by Elijah, then."
The man dropped his unfriendly act and looked for a moment like a concerned parent. "Listen 'ere, kid. Yer goin' get yourself killed if ye try things in there without someone assisting you. If ye weren't 'arry Potter... Fourteen galleons. And don't come a-runnin' to me if you burn yourself alive with Fiendfyre or somethin'."
Harry happily paid for Elijah's the Elements and several runic manuals that seemed to be complementary texts.
"Ready?" boomed Hagrid, carrying a cage with an owl of all things in it. "I bought an owl for yer. Yer birthday", he explained.
Hagrid brought Harry to a nearby tube station. "I s'pose ye'd-"
"Yes, thanks for everything, Hagrid", Harry said earnestly, carting off his trunk, full of assorted wizarding needs.
His owl attracted some attention on the train, but he managed to get back to Privet Drive without being stopped.
Aunt Petunia screamed a bit about the owl, but Harry paid her no mind and shut himself in his cupboard, immediately beginning his reading on Elijah's The Elements.
The Lord works in Mysterious Ways, but none is more mysterious than the ability of those within the Seventh Tribe to utilize the natural energies provided by Yahweh...
This is a manual about the harnessing of the elements, spaced in such a way that every young scholar will be capable of progressing through each before moving to the next tier of difficult. The Elements will be ordered by latent difficulty. Wind, Earth, Water, Fire and Lightning will be covered extensively.
The tome will culminate in the most powerful combinations of Elemental powers. Examples include Storm Summoning, Fiendfyre and Parting of Waters...
Harry read on.
Credo
Three days of Harry being as reclusive as he could be and reading the book by Elijah had given him much food for thought. It spoke to him, resonating in a place deep inside himself he had never experienced before. The treatise was comprehensive, much more so than he thought it would be for the level it was rated at. There were long paragraphs of information, rich enough in detail that a child, like himself, could understand it.
Harry was enraptured.
He didn't skip around in the book, choosing instead to read it slowly. There were many things here, things he could do, things he was capable of if he were only careful. The book spoke anecdotes of warning - of uncontrolled attempts at the manipulations creating devastation in its wake, of angered Elements devouring the unwary who dared call them forth...
It was not for the faint of heart.
But Harry pushed forward, aided by a strong resolve and the hubris of youth. He was willing to risk it for that feeling that it gave him, the feeling of being something more than he was.
He reviewed the overarching themes in his head.
According to the book, Wind was the gentlest of them all, forgiving as an element could be for any youthful blunders, only unleashing its fury in the direst of mistakes. It was a good learning place, and even alone and unaided by any of the others it had a power and majesty all its own.
There were two methods to control he could pursue; one, the normal way, using a wand as a focus to harness the energy. This way was a good learning tool, though it was somewhat cumbersome and unweildy at the higher tiers of power. The other was using no wand, just focusing the magic through willpower, concentration and the symbol of the element in question. This was was much faster, and much more suited to the higher tiers of power that could be had, but it was not for the inexperienced alone.
Harry was not stupid, no matter what his relatives had to say, and chose to attempt neither, as he had been warned from using his wand at home and he knew he wasn't good enough to work without a teacher or a handicap.
By the time Harry was required to pack for Hogwarts, he had learned much - theoretically anyway. If that was all he could do, he would content himself with that for now.
There was much yet to learn, even as Harry had been making notes for himself about things, concepts to explore when he had more experience and much more grounding in this new field. He wondered, even as he loaded his things in the car, if there was a place he could practice at Hogwarts. It would be nice, but knowing his luck, things would be a bit more sticky than that.
Nothing was ever so cut and dried with him, no matter how he tried. It was irritating, sure, but that was his lot, so he made the best of it. Now all he had to do was find that blasted platform.
This made for an interesting quandary - where the hell was the door? It wasn't like there was big neon sign pointing right at it for all to see! And Hagrid, despite his kind nature, had neglected to inform him of this small detail... Sighing in frustration, and glad in the fact that he had managed to get to King's Cross early, he sat back against a wall between platforms nine and ten, watching the people walking past him.
He was still waiting when a family of two, a stern-looking woman with a monocle and a girl who looked to be his age, walked into a wall.
He blinked.
Sure enough, there were many families around this particular part of the platform who were disappearing, but none had caught his attention in the same way. Perhaps it was the slight taste of magic on the woman?
He triumphantly pushed his cart through the barrier, which he suddenly realized was humming with magical power.
A huge scarlet train rose out of nowhere to meet him, and he realized that he wasn't quite in London anymore.
Ten Fifty Two.
Harry groaned. The train would start in eight minutes, and surely, there would be no seats on the huge Hogwarts Express.
He headed to a juncture that seemed devoid of people, and hefted his slightly-heavy trunk onto the train.
He turned down a corridor and ducked his head into a compartment. "Is it full in here?" he asked.
The boy shook his head, but the two girls didn't even acknowledge him.
"Thanks", he mumbled, lifting his trunk onto the rack. The boy rose to help him, but Harry had managed already.
Harry sat down, and the other boy looked around awkwardly.
"Are you a muggleborn?" he finally asked.
"No", was the short reply.
"Well, that's a relief." The girl with brown hair and a somewhat thin face had spoken up. "I would have left if Longbottom here had started to explain Wizarding culture to you."
Harry frowned slightly, and decided to wait until the girl was gone to ask questions about the aforementioned Wizarding culture.
"I'm Tracey Davis", she continued. "And this is Daphne Greengrass. That... is Neville Longbottom, the last scion to his House. If you treat him nicely, he might not make trouble for you."
Harry's frowned deepened as he looked to Neville. Neville didn't look very threatening, but he supposed looks were deceiving.
"Harry... Potter."
At his words, the blond girl, who had been dozing off, looked up sharply. Her slightly grey-blue eyes bored into his for a moment, and Harry had a strange feeling that she might have been reading him, but didn't detect any sort of magic.
Neville's eyes had flown to his scar.
There were no words in the compartments, so Harry unzipped a backpack and hefted the Elements onto his lap.
"My father has a copy of that book", Daphne said quietly.
The quiet.
Despite Neville's bumbling nature, there seemed to be a certain sort of quiet nobility in the room, an elegance that could only come from a decent upbringing. He had wandered into a compartment of the upper class of magical society, and it was evident that they believed that he belonged.
He wasn't sure that he did.
The compartment door banged open, and a mildly pretty girl with bushy brown hair poked her head into the compartment. "Oh, I suppose you're full. What are you reading?" she wondered suddenly, staring at Harry.
Harry looked up sharply. Once more, Daphne pretended to sleep, and Tracey looked pointedly at the ground. Neville gave a weak smile.
"Elijah's The Element."
"What would that be?"
"A treatise on Elemental Magic", Harry grudgingly answered.
"Oh, that's fantastic! I haven't read much about Elemental Magic, except that it's really, really hard! Are you going to take your N.E.W.T.s this year? You don't look very old, and-"
"Shut the fuck up", Tracey stated plainly, closing the compartment door in the girl's face.
"Why, I'd never!" came an indignant cry from behind the door.
Neville looked troubled, and Harry went back to reading.
A few minutes or a few hours could have passed, and Harry wouldn't have realized it. The Elements was an absolutely fascinating text, detailed without being boring and scholarly without being pedantic.
He looked up surreptitiously every once in a while.
Neville sat with a stoic expression upon his face, but it was clear that he was deeply concentrating on something.
Daphne's eyes were obscured by her dirty-blond hair, but it was clear that she wasn't actually sleeping.
Tracey sat without a single wasted motion, breathing a steady, even rhythm.
The door banged open.
Standing right outside their compartment was a blond boy flanked by two others. They were huge.
"I hear Harry Potter's on this train. Have any of you seen him?"
Daphne and Tracey ignored him. Neville's ears turned slightly red, but he, too, made no noise.
Harry didn't look up from his book.
"Oy, have any of you heard me?"
The silence continued.
The boy grabbed Harry by the shoulder, and Harry looked straight into his eyes as Daphne had.
The boy's eyes snapped away as if stung. Harry briefly noted that there must be a sort of magical discipline that involved eyes.
Harry chalked it as a victory.
"Come on, let's go. It's not like these losers could have seen him."
The compartment door was slammed shut.
"That was Draco Malfoy. His family is of a different Wizengamot faction than mine", Neville explained.
"And ours", confirmed Tracey. "The train is pulling into Hogsmeade. It'll be wise to change."
As a response, Neville and Daphne began pulling off their normal clothing.
"Wh-what?" Harry sputtered.
"It's supposed to be a trial of chastity and self-control", whispered Neville solemnly.
"What's the point?" Harry whispered back.
"We can hear you", said Daphne. Her laughter was quite musical.
"Many things can power magic, belief being among the most powerful. Faith, chastity, respect and even kindness has the ability to channel power. Other emotions such as hate, pain and love have equal effects. The stronger your control over a certain emotion, the more power you'll have if you're utilizing it. Some emotions are far better for some spells", said Neville.
"What emotion do you use, Neville?"
There was another silence as everyone changed into their robes.
Harry slipped his book back into his pack as they stood in tandem. Tracey and Daphne left first, followed by Harry and Neville. The girls seemed to glide, as their feet were never visible through their robes, while each of Neville's steps could be seen, the sole of his boots clopping militaristically on the stone station floor.
Harry attempted to imitate Neville's walk, but seemingly could not copy the diverse rhythm.
Clop clop cloppity clop clop clop clop clopitty...
"First years! O'er here!" Hagrid shouted in the full capacity of Keeper of the Keys.
They were piled into boats. Harry hopped smartly into his, and managed to keep it from capsizing by changing his center of gravity as Daphne and Tracey followed him in.
Neville stood uncertainly at the edge of the platform, then decided to hop in as well.
It was only the grace of Daphne that saved the boat from capsizing, but Neville didn't let a hint of embarrassment show.
Credo
Harry continued to ponder the lessons his compartment-mates had inadvertently given him as the First Year students made their way towards Hogwarts on the flotilla of boats directed by Hagrid. Belief, and Emotion. It was strange to hear such things, true, but he could see the point of it; history was rife with examples of such, ranging from selfless heroism that saved lives to the 'righteous' fury that had gripped four different generations of Crusaders. Although that last was as much an ideological disagreement as emotional, but it still held.
He paid very little mind to the clutter of students milling in the entryway, nor to the entrance of the House Ghosts of Hogwarts, so wrapped up in his thoughts was he. Harry was human, he felt emotion same as the next man, and to try and classify the feelings and sensations and translate them into magic he didnt even know was... hard enough.
So he decided to make it easier on himself. Starting from the system he already grew familiar with- the Elemental magics he was so enraptured by- he slowly worked out certain feelings that the words caused within himself.
Earth was a bastion of stillness, of calm, of regality. There existed a type of heaviness that powered resolve and wintry analysis of sorts. The flow of Earth was a sort of dedication beyond the classifications of right and wrong. it was a zealousness to craft and a lack of showmanship.
Fire was innovation of a progressive sort, the gentle passions wrapped in the burning fervor of sexuality or anger - sometimes both. There was a fair to it that made Harry very uncomfortable in his own skin as he read about it and felt for it around him.
Wind was wild, carefree, and graceful beyond belief. There was a sort of genius in the way it moved, but a lack of dedication to anything that pronounced it a polar opposite to the dirt. Secret whispers danced in his ears and a type of devoutness that came from its relationship to a branch of magic that Elijah spoke of every once in a while could be felt.
Water was deep and wise, patiently going about its business heedless of those who made to tame it. It was the feeling of knowing, deep in his bones, a secret that could change worlds if it were spoken. Of course, it was also somewhat playful, but there was a sort of underlying threat to it.
Lightning, by far, was Harry's favorite. It was quick and pristine, fighting off logic and emotion for a singleminded moment of eureka. It was the element which changed the world, manifesting rarely, but with the strength of a downbeat in every bar of history composed by the machinations of man. Harry thought it was no coincidence his scar was shaped so...
Fortunately his mind was quick, as when he brought his attention back to the waking world he found himself in the Great Hall, where the Hat was being placed on Daphne's head. The Sorting Hat of Hogwarts- yes, he had been paying attention in a very distracted manner- seemed to mumble and ripple as it performed its arcane duties, then announced to the Hall in a strident voice- "SLYTHERIN!"
Following her path with his eyes, he noted that Tracy had already been sorted there. This was interesting. He wondered absently where Neville was going to go. He didn't know him too well, after all, so he wasn't one to judge.
Soon enough he would have his answer as the boy walked up to the Sorting Hat and plopped down. The hat once again rippled and waved its pointed tip in the air as it did it's job, then the tear opened up as it's strident voice once more rang to the rafters...
Credo
But then, the Hat suddenly shut its mouth.
Neville's lips and chin, the only visible parts of his face, twitched into a smile for a moment.
The Hat was silent long as Neville's mouth opened and shut.
Neville looked to have spat out an expletive even as the Hat's brim opened again. "SLYTHERIN!"
Neville threw the Hat down on the stool with a huff and stomped off, but after three steps, his face had calmed and his walk was regal once more.
"Okay", Harry muttered, his decision made.
"MALFOY, DRACO!" Harry watched distractedly as the boy was sorted into Slytherin as well.
Several more names were called.
"POTTER, HARRY!"
"Harry Potter? Here? He wasn't on the train", the mutters went.
Harry walked forward, still imitating Neville's footwork.
Clop clop cloppity cloppity clop clop-
He sat on the stool and dropped the Hat over his head.
"This isn't what I expected" he said as he stared into the dusty interior of the Hat.
Well, what did you expect?
Harry jumped slightly. "Never mind", he said.
You have a good mind, and, oh yes, bravery. Very much bravery.
Harry nodded slightly.
You're loyal, very loyal. Already, your thoughts are of those you've met on the train. But, beyond all else, you are beyond ambitious. You wish to be powerful, don't you? Powerful... unlike your parents?
Harry grimaced.
Perhaps one day, you will focus your ambitions elsewhere, but for now...
"SLYTHERIN!"
Harry took off the hat and put it down on the stool gently.
The silence was crushing.