Full Circle

Chapter 2- Better be

"Faith is not a rational thing, and yet to understand the universe, rationality alone will not give it to us. Our understanding of the universe must transcend the rational."- John Rhys-Davies

"Wow." Harry heard Cedric mutter from in front of him, as his awestruck friend stepped into the hall, all previous signs of sickness appeared to have been magically vanished.

Harry rolled his eyes before he followed suit, and to his surprise, he found himself in a similar state of mind. He had now officially set foot into the Hogwart's Great hall for his first time. All around and above him were masses of candles; some placed on pedestals at the side of the hall whilst others seemed to be levitating in mid-air, hovering over the heads of the many students who were all seated at four long wooden tables. Casting his eyes to the other end of the hall, Harry saw another long table where the teachers were sitting. He back to the students and couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated; The hundreds of faces were staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Harry looked upwards once more and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

"Wow indeed." Harry commented quietly to nobody in particular, as he finished his observation of his surroundings, and focused his attention on the teacher who had led them into the hall.

"Welcome to Hogwarts." The stern looking teacher repeated once more after all of the first years had entered the hall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be Sorted into your houses."

"There are four houses; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin." She explained calmly as another teacher walked into the room, from another entrance that Harry and others had come from, carrying what looked like a wooden stool and a rather dilapidated old wizard's hat. "My name is Professor McGonagall and I am both the head of Gryffindor house as well as the deputy headmistress. I teach the subject transfiguration here at Hogwarts." She introduced herself politely to the first years. "Thank you Argus." The professor added politely, turning towards the man who put the stool and hat onto the floor before walking away without a comment. It was at that point when Harry felt himself zone out of the speech; the professor was now talking about the qualities of each house and explaining the job of the sorting hat. Harry didn't really feel like he had to listen, he had read both Hogwarts; a history as well as Bertha's journal about this, so he felt confident that he knew roughly what was going on. However he chose to observe the rest of the hall whilst the professor was speaking, and he felt his eyes wander over to the sorting hat that was placed on the stool, with what looked like a smirk on its leather features.

'Bertha was right,' Harry mused to himself, 'That thing really is quite ugly.' He said, as he carefully eyed the tatted piece of cloth placed on the stool.

Turning back to the others, Harry found himself trying hard in order to stifle a laugh that appeared in his throat as he saw Vicky and a couple of other students flinch and gasp loudly when the hat opened his maw and began to speak. Harry watched with mild amusement as the hat began to sing a song about the four houses and subsequently explained that its job was to sort all of the new students. As the hat sang, Harry briefly wondered to himself how the hat was able to come up with a different song each year. Bertha's diary had noted that the hat never repeated a song in her time at Hogwarts and that Professor Dumbledore had once said the same. Harry made a note to himself to find out whether this was true or not, perhaps 'Hogwarts: A history' may have answers. Turning back to the hat, Harry watched the ragged piece of clothing finish its song to a respectful smattering of applause before Professor McGonagall pulled out a long scroll and began reading out names of the first years in alphabetical order. Harry paid little attention to the first couple of students who were sorted before a name caught his attention.

"Bode, Rodney." Harry looked on as the brown haired boy carefully walked up to the stool where the sorting hat was placed on. Harry watched with interest as the boy put the hat on his head once he was seated. For several seconds, Rodney had a calm, neutral look on his face before it morphed into a mask of anger that was quickly replaced by a cold, emotionless expression. Rodney's facial expression remained this way for a couple more minutes, with the creases on the hat seeming to reflect a frown, before the hat opened its mouth and shouted to the hall, "Slytherin!"

Rodney carefully placed the hat back onto the stool and walked off to the Slytherin table, on his face was the same icy mask that he wore before. It seemed that he wasn't particularly happy about his sorting, and as he walked, Harry noticed some students, particular those seated at the Gryffindor table, hiss menacingly at him. Harry narrowed his eyes and watched as Rodney took his seat at the table before turning his attention back to the sorting.

After watching Roger Davies being sorted into Ravenclaw, the name "Diggory, Cedric" was uttered by the transfiguration professor to the Great Hall.

"You're up." Harry muttered to his friend, giving him an encouraging poke in the back to snap him out of the brief state of shock that he had experienced. Cedric walked up to the stool, slower and clearly much more nervously than Rodney had done so. Harry watched closely as the boy quickly sat down and put the hat on his head. Several seconds passed by before Harry watched his friend nod as if it was in agreement with what the hat was saying to him. A few more seconds elapsed before the hat cried out "Hufflepuff!"

With a small smile, Cedric removed the sorting hat from the top of his head and made his way to the Hufflepuff table where he was congratulated by several other students on that table, a relieved look on his face. Harry spared his friend a smile once he caught his eye.

Several more students were sorted before it was Vicky's turn. Harry watched the nervous brown haired girl look back at him before she nervously walked up to the stool. Once the hat was upon her head, Harry watched the muggleborn student quickly close her eyes. "Gryffindor!" The hat screamed after a several tense seconds. A warm round of applause rippled through the Great Hall as Vicky quickly made her way to the table where the 'House of Lions' were seated at.

Harry watched on silently as the Sorting Hat did his job until he heard Professor McGonagall call out "Potter, Harry." With only a raising of an eyebrow at being called upon, Harry quietly stalked over the stool that housed the sorting hat, ignoring the faint murmurs from the other students. Harry carefully lifted the hat up off the stool before seating himself. Then he slowly placed the hat on his head. Immediately Harry felt something unknown enter his head, some sort of foreign presence. Fighting the urge to flinch, Harry steeled himself and sat still as he felt the presence invade his mind.

"Interesting, full of many qualities I see." After hearing this comment, Harry flinched in shock before realising that it was the hat talking to him.

"Oh they cannot hear you, this conversation is between you and me." The hat continued, answering the question before Harry even asked it.

"Wait so you are reading my mind?" Harry asked, a small idea forming in his mind.

"A mind isn't a book to read it is much more complicated than that, but effectively despite the over-generalisation, it is to a certain extent." The hat grumbled in response.

"And I assume that your only job for the year is to conduct this sorting and to write a long?" Harry asked, a gleam in his eye.

"That would be correct." The hat responded tentatively as Harry smiled and filed this piece of information away for later use.

"There's courage, lot's of it, but there is also compassion. Lots of loyalty to those who you hold close to you. But you've also got a sharp mind and plenty of wit." Harry waited patiently as he listened to the hat drone on as it sifted through his memories. "There's a lot of pent up emotion inside of you and the urge to prove yourself. You would do well in Slytherin." The hat advised. "But where should I put you?"

Harry paused at this comment before he asked mentally. "I would like to go to the place that would best help me learn my magic."

"You would do well in any house that you would go to." The hat answered, not directly answering his question. "Gryffindor like your parents?" It asked as Harry glanced over to that table. He quickly managed to seek out Vicky and upon making eye contact, she waved politely at him.

"No I don't think so." Harry said, "I don't see myself as being brave."

"Your memories suggest something else." The hat replied, as Harry realised what memories the hat was looking through.

Harry suddenly felt a rage surge through him at this invasion of his memories. "Not Gryffindor." Harry told the hat adamantly. "I wasn't brave, I just did what I needed to do to survive."

"Perhaps Hufflepuff?" The hat asked and Harry shook his head. Bertha's journals provided an insight into life in Hufflepuff house, and it wasn't really a place that he felt that he would enjoy the most.

"Not Hufflepuff." The hat continued, catching onto his thought process, the intonation suggested that the hat agreed with him. "How about Slytherin?"

"I don't know." Harry thought truthfully. "As I said before, I want to go to the place that will best help me learn my magic. My magic was the gift that got me out of the darkness." He argued assertively.

"Slytherin would very much suit you," The hat replied, as an image was suddenly thrusted to the forefronts of his mind. It was himself, a much older version of himself surrounded by a bunch of other students wearing robes with a green and silver lining, all wearing expressions with varying degrees of awe and amazement. He thought of the feeling to be rather odd, as he looked at what he coined 'future me', from the third person, yet he felt himself experience this giddy rush of what he realised to be the seductive tendrils of power. He looked at the other Harry, realising what the other one had. He seemed to be popular, the one that others looked up to, respected. Everything that he never had. "Is that what you want?" The hat asked, the tone a bit quieter now.

Harry felt ready to say yes to this, as his childhood had dictated how his life was to be lived. If the hat was right and that Slytherin would give him this, why should he stand in his way. But he remembered, that the thing that he never had was parents. It was the promise that he made to himself all those years ago to find a way that he would be able to find out if they really did love him or not that made him who he was.

"I see." The hat said quietly. "It is clear to me that Ravenclaw would suit a mind like yours yet your dream is so ambitious, any Slytherin would be proud to have it." The hat debated. "But where to put you?" It pondered as Harry felt an impulsive want to set fire to this ragged piece of clothing, all wistful pretences gone. Harry then felt the hat leave his mind, and a sudden feeling of relief pass through him. "I will put you where you feel you would best fit in and achieve what you want to achieve." The hat said wistfully before it opened its maw to the heavens. "Ravenclaw!" It called out to the hall as Harry quietly took the hat off his head and strode over the House of the blue and silver. Harry felt a hand clap him on the back as he sat down, and couldn't help but allow himself a small smile. The four of them had now been sorted and were officially students of the Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Sometime in the summer of 1985; Little Whinging

Hushed murmurs fill the air as I walk pass the front of the school, no doubt the 'caring' mothers out there are covering the eyes of their 'precious' young heathens. I probably couldn't blame them really, having caught a glance of my appearance after looking at a reflection of a car window. Dried mud caked on my face, with copious amounts of grit falling out of my messy hair every time I ran my hand through it.

"Momma, who is he?" My ears prick up and I watch a boy, perhaps a couple of years younger than me, standing at approximately waist height relative to his mother point at me.

'This sound be interesting.' I mused to myself as I continued to walk past, my attention piqued by what would be a response from the mother that I would find extremely humorous.

"It's rude to point." I hear her scold, as a small smile unwillingly graces my features. It continues to grow, but I let it as I hear her next few words, "Just stay away from him." It's more of the hesitance of what she says that makes me want to laugh. Their conversations are always fun to listen into, as I hear the latest rumour of what neurological disease that I have, be it ADHD or autism. Last week when I heard one of these mothers speculate that I had autism I dutifully walked over to her and began to poke her hard and relentlessly without saying a word until I was forcibly removed by her husband. I went without food for several nights after that for my act of mischief.

Today I took the long way home, as opposed to the normal route that I would take. It was just the case that I didn't feel up for seeing the faces of the Walrus, nor of the Giraffe and especially not of their demented love child; the Pig. I had no doubts on whether or not the Pig had run home crying to the Walrus about something else that I had done.

'Spineless coward.' I thought to myself as I silently crept past a group of teenagers huddled in a small group smoking whatever illicit substance that was popular these days. The temptation to join them was large, as then I might even give some substance to the 'bad-boy' or 'rebel' reputation that the Giraffe had preached to anybody who would even listen to her inane ramblings.

Soon enough, I ran out of tarmac and reached the place that I was forced to call home. After two tentative knocks on the door, to my surprise the door swung open and a meaty fist grabbed hold of the front of my shirt and forcibly pulled me inside.

'Shit.' I thought to myself as I was dragged to the living room where the Giraffe and Pig awaited me. After being forcibly shoved to the ground, I decided to stay there and let them act out whatever demented charade they had planned.

"We got a call from school today." The Giraffe began, her lips pursed in what looked like a permanent scowl.

'What school?' I bit back the retort that formed itself in my throat as I held my tongue and forced myself to listen to whatever debauchery that the Giraffe was about to utter.

"They said that you beat up another boy, Martin Prince." The Giraffe continued.

'Did I now?' I thought to myself sarcastically as I glared at the other inhabitants of the room, as I silently wished each and every one of them a painful death as they played out this 'mock trial' of sorts.

"They also said that you had the nerve to blame it on Dudders." The Walrus took over, taking a step towards me.

At this point in time, I was torn between the feeling of outrage and laughter. I did not 'beat up' someone called Martin Prince. In fact its quite a funny story about what happened. Martin had done something to annoy the Pig and his gang, probably something utterly heinous and despicable such as breathing. I mean how dare he? Then there was me, minding my own business, sitting under a tree whilst reading a book, blocking out the sound of Martin's screams of pain that the adults in charge must have mistaken for laughter.

Soon enough the Pig got tired of picking on Martin and moved onto bigger and better things. I found myself unwillingly lifted from my place of quiet and zen before finding myself unceremoniously smashed against a brick wall. This wasn't the first time that they had done something like this, but apparently they had developed what seemed to be a faint amount of cunning and told the adults that I had a fight with Martin and that they all watched him do it. Naturally Martin would agree with the story that the Pig came up with. Then again, he didn't really have a choice. I lie. He had a choice, the spineless coward. And to think I felt sorry for him when I saw him get kicked in the gut by the Pig.

"He did mum. It was him." The pig spluttered as he pointed a trembling and pudgy finger towards me. 'Isn't it rude to point?' The voice inside my head chimed as I fought the urge to laugh manically. I mean, I found it rather humorous and ironic that the condemning 'axe of justice' was the oversized finger belonging to a swine. It must be said that my self control was rather poor at that time, given that I was only 7 years of age. With a bellow that would do his brethren proud, the Pig lunged forward and swung a meaty fist at me. It never connected. I'm not sure if I even saw if properly, but it seemed to stop in mid air, as if some invisible hand and reached out of grabbed it before the Pig went flying backwards, landing in a heap near the sofa.

Ignoring the indignant cries from the Giraffe I looked at my hands in amazement. "Holy fucking shit." I swore as I felt a tingling sensation in my fingers, a bit like there was something hidden inside it that begged for release. Before I could do anything else and try out my newfound powers, I felt something heavy smack my temples. Like a sack of bricks I fell to the floor my vision blurry as I realised that it was the Walrus's fist that had hit me. The next few seconds were a blur, I heard what I think was a cry about 'freakishness' before I felt pain, vivid pain. It seemed to be that from that point forward, my screams would become the symphony to which all those of Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey would hear.

And that was that. I remember that night well. You see, the Walrus and the Giraffe never treated me well. But would never beat me. They might have shoved me, or slapped me around a couple of times, but they never properly hit me. After today, well lets just leave it at the neighbours were treated to several encores.

Saturday 2nd September 1989; Ravenclaw Dormitory

Harry quietly eyed the rest of his roommates from the relative cover of his own bed as he reflected back on the events of the previous night, whilst indirectly made him focus on something other than the nightmare that he had just experienced. Out of the four of them, it was rather clear that Marcus Belby was the loudest, with him having boasted at least five times to the rest about how his uncle often went hunting with Ministers of Magic. Harry privately thought the boy to be of an idiot, and one that liked rather too much, the sound of his own voice.

Roger Davis was another who Harry thought to be relatively easy to read; he was quieter than Belby (not much of an achievement) but at the same time he was rather self-assured and confident, particularly when speaking to girls. Again, Harry thought of him as an idiot by the way that he would parrot with Belby. He was easy to read because he was as normal a person as one could be, he could see that he had no dark secrets or past, and he didn't see him to be that good an actor to pull a façade of this quality off. Sometimes people were just normal as trivial as it sounded.

The last of which was Robert Hillert who seemed content to follow Roger and Belby around, and from what Harry had seen of him already; the boy lacked a spine and a voice. As of right now, he was undecided upon who was the bigger idiot; the braggart or the sheep.

Thankfully today was Saturday, so there were no lessons thus it allowed the new students the luxury of the weekend to begin to acquaint themselves with the castle. With no intention in spending more time than necessary in the company of his slumbering roommates, Harry silently crept out of the dorm.

Moving quietly but purposefully, Harry made his way out of the dorm and into the common room without meeting another soul. Then again, it was about half four on a Saturday morning. Extrapolating what he would from the sounds heard in the common room the previous night, Harry found comfort in the knowledge that he wouldn't be bothered. He suddenly stopped at the foot of the stairs, his hand already placed on the bronze door handle when he decided to look back.

Harry felt himself cracking a small smile as he glanced around the room once more. It was a wide, circular room with arched windows hung with blue and bronze silks and a midnight blue carpet covered in stars, which was reflected onto the domed ceiling. But that wasn't the important thing. What really drew his attention was the pale white statue of a figure that stood proudly in the centre of the room. Upon closer inspection, Harry noticed that the plaque of the statue read "Rowena Ravenclaw," and on top of her head was a diadem that had the message "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure" gently inscribed onto it.

"Funny that." Harry mused to himself quietly before he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, without sparing the statue a second glance.

Harry spent the next half hour or so, slowly drifting through the corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He hadn't encountered much so far, although he did see the Poltergeist Peeves, something Bertha's journals had made him very wary of. With no real wish to encounter the fiendish spirit, Harry turned and wandered off in the opposite direction.

Soon enough, Harry found himself wandering on a walkway with only a thin looking roof to protect its inhabitants from the elements. On his left, Harry could peer over and see the courtyard in all its glory, but it was the sight on his right that he would never forget. With it being around half five, Harry could see dawn slowly breaking onto the grounds of the school. His gaze carried him on an adventure of the place, first starting at the lush green grass with the soft remains of dew on their tips near the greenhouses, before easing past a small hut with a straw roof. It took him over a large clump of trees and green, as natural serenity and tranquillity became the order of the day. All of this seemed to be so beautiful, but at the same time it felt so fragile, that any sound would break and fracture it.

'It was nice whilst it lasted.' Harry thought to himself before he sighed and slowly turned around, he had seen a wispy figure out of corner his peripheral vision stand there for some time. He had hoped that if he didn't initially respond, whoever it was would go away but alas he wasn't that lucky.

Harry supposed that the one that was watching him was beautiful in her appearance, judging by her dark waist-length hair and floor-length cloak, but when he looked closer, he saw that she also looked rather haughty and proud whilst simultaneously maintaining a neutral, if not judgmental look. Relaxing his features into an expression similar to hers, the raven-haired boy remained silent. He knew very well exactly who she was, and that made him rather interested in what she had to say.

He watched on with mild curiosity as a small knowing smirk escaped her lips before it was quickly swallowed up and churned into the familiar mask that she wore before. "It seems to be an odd time for one as young as yourself to be out of bed." She said, her voice light but firm. Quiet but audible. Certainly not gentle, nor coarse, her pronunciation was immaculate yet rigid in some places.

"Perhaps it is." Harry answered back pensively as he turned to look back at the sight that had captivated him before, "Although the way I see it, it seems to be the right time."

"981 years." She replied, her voice not particular loud but Harry heard it as clear as day. "And I can never always find what you call the right time."

"Perhaps you might have found it." Harry interjected calmly as he carefully studied the features of the ghost that floated in front of him, "But you never notice that you have until it has passed."

The ghost paused, and her expression flickered slightly, like a candle in the light before she spoke, "Spoken truly like one who resides in the house of my mothers."

"I've been here twelve hours." Harry deadpanned, "Magic is a wonderful thing but it doesn't give someone anything overnight."

"You seem sceptical." The ghost observed, a frown forming on her veiled features.

"I prefer the term rational." Harry replied bluntly, as he looked out once more to the grounds. "From what I understand of magic its a science, a peculiar type that defies the laws of muggle science. Yet it has laws of its own, and with these laws it has limitations. I've noticed that a lot of people in this world find it easier to pretend that those laws do not exist and keep themselves trapped in a self-perpetuating bubble of ignorance."

"I think that most people in this world will look at your rationality as arrogance." The grey lady said, pursing her lips in a scowl.

"Only the stupid ones." Harry bit back sharply,

"Do you take me, daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw, as stupid?" The ghost asked, a flicker of annoyance starting to seep in.

"Yes." Harry deadpanned, recognising that her question was rhetorical but paying no attention to it. "If you expect me to believe that you are supposed to be wise as a result of your mother..."

"The question was rhetorical." The grey lady replied coldly as if she thought that he did not see that it was so. "So you have the argument that magic is not all that great. Convince me."

"Do you want evidence to support my claim?" Harry asked as he raised an eyebrow. When he received no response, he assumed that the answer was given in the positive. "Ok firstly I'm looking straight at it."

"Insolent child." The ghost snapped, as she prepared to herself launch on a rant.

"Didn't you want evidence to support my claim that magic has limitations?" Harry asked rudely, interrupting and amazingly able to silence the ghost. "You are a ghost. You are an imprint on a departed soul that had left this earth. You are still here in this shade like state because you haven't been able to find closure of acceptance of your state. You are a magical being and it certainly hasn't solved your little problem."

"Interesting theory." The ghost said, the urge to scold him waning slightly as she felt oddly curious to listen to what this little boy was about to say.

"Also, you said that you have been dead for 981 years and I don't question that. But surely after all those years you will be able to give me definitive proof whether God exists or not?" Harry asked, a smirk forming on his face.

"What? You can't expect me to answer that." The grey lady exclaimed, "You're asking me to give evidence to the root of all belief!"

"But isn't that a limitation of magic then?" Harry asked confidently. "You claim to be the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw and you have had nearly 1000 years on this planet and yet you cannot give me an answer. Muggles live for much shorter periods of time yet they are at the same stage and they don't even have the knowledge about what happens after death."

The grey lady was silent for a minute, before her expression morphed into a rather pensive one. "You know that there was once someone in this castle who had a saying, one that wasn't well known to many."

"There probably was." Harry interrupted rudely, as he tried to discern why there was such an abrupt change of topic. "Do please continue."

"Where there's magic, there's always an answer." The ghost answered, a small smile gracing her features for the first time.

"Funny that." Harry mused quietly to himself as he closed his eyes to think. "Your mother?"

"No." The ghost said calmly, a knowing smile on her face. It was at this point where Harry noticed that the ghost that floated in front of him seemed to be more alive than ever, like her frostiness had suddenly evaporated for some reason. "Its something that you really should find out." And with that parting shot, the ghost floated away down the corridor, leaving the eleven year old standing thoughtfully in her wake.

"Funny that." Harry murmured out loud to nobody in particular before walking away in the opposite direction.

"How is life in Ravenclaw?"

Harry blinked twice, before turning around to see the familiar face of Cedric as the boy sat down next to him. "It's good." He replied curtly, as he subtly moved over slightly. "There are lots of books and its very quiet. Think of it as a blue library."

Cedric laughed at this before he straightened up and a frown quickly formed on his face. "You've already seen the library?"

"Briefly." Harry replied as he thought back to his wanderings earlier that morning, "How are things in Hufflepuff?" He started to ask politely before he was interrupted by someone sitting down on his opposite side.

"Hey guys."

"Hey Vicky." Cedric greeted cheerfully as Harry slowly turned, briefly stared before blinking and grabbing an apple off the table.

"Where's Rodney?" Vicky then asked, eyes wide as she turned to face Harry.

"Clearly not here." Harry deadpanned before he took a bite out of the apple in his hand.

"Morning." A voice out of nowhere said as a familiar face plopped down on the seat opposite him.

"Lovely." Harry said with faux cheerfulness. "He's like the devil, say his name once and he appears."

"Um Harry what are these people doing here?"

Harry turned around on his seat to see Roger Davis and Marcus Belby standing behind him. Harry blinked before he saw Robert Hillert sulking several metres away, eying the three with a bitter look on his face. "Well some of these people are eating, others are talking, some are doing both." Harry said in the same tone of voice before as he gestured towards Cedric who was chatting animatedly to Vicky whilst also trying to devour a croissant simultaneously. "Naturally something you would expect in a place where people eat breakfast at."

"Why is that Snake here?" Belbly asked, as he not so subtly motioned towards Rodney who nonchalantly smeared butter on a slice of bread opposite them.

"Why are you talking?" Harry asked rudely, disregarding the question asked to him. "Just close your mouth, it smells enough already. You know brushing your teeth helps."

Harry watched with satisfaction as Belby's face reddened to the shade of a tomato. Roger stepped forward and looked like he was about to say something, but then again, going by the uneasy look on his face it was probably something to defuse the situation as opposed to throw fire on it.

'Shame.' Harry thought to himself as he continued to eye Belby who now looked like he was about to explode.

Suddenly the three were interrupted by loud laughing coming from their left. Harry blinked as he turned towards a near hysterical Vicky with Cedric who was currently banging the table with laughter. Letting a smirk grace his features, Harry turned back to the apple in his hand as he wondered whether they were laughing at Belby or if Cedric had made a very good joke. Glancing at the knowing smirk on Bode's face, he was pretty sure what had happened. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Roger pull Belby away towards the opposite end of the table. Harry sighed when he realised that he probably would have to deal with the repercussions of his little stunt later.

'I'll cross that bridge when I'll get to it.' Harry thought to himself as he took another bite out of the apple in his hand.

"Harry?"

Said boy being talked to blinked twice as he took another bite out of the apple that he was holding.

"Were you listening to what we were saying before?" Vicky asked, her eyes wide open with a wounded puppy-dog expression on her face.

'Please don't cry on me.' Harry thought to himself as he saw the look on her face. 'That would be very bad, very bad indeed.'

"We said that we would all go exploring." Vicky repeated after a small eye roll at his antics.

"Later." Cedric interrupted as Vicky turned to him, a look on her face that screamed 'Why did you interrupt me you stupid person?' "Food first." He said firmly as Rodney nodded sagely.

"I'll drink to that." Harry said humorously as he held up a mock glass in his other hand.

"Harry?"

The boy being talked to ignored the voice for several seconds as he looked around. "Yeah just a minute Vicky you've found me." Harry said loudly as he examined his surroundings. It seemed to be an ordinary classroom, yet there were no chairs, no tables, just what looked like a mirror at the opposite side of the room. All in all, a terrible place to play hide and seek in.

"Its Cedric!" An indignant voice shouted from the other side of the door, but Harry pushed it to the corners of his mind, said game of hide and seek suddenly becoming completely irrelevant to him.

"What is this?" Harry mused out loud, as he stared at the object in front of him, recognising immediately that it was a mirror, but there was something about it that seemed a bit off...

"I'm coming in." Once again, Harry paid no attention to the voice, as he took another step forward to inspect the mirror. Immediately as he did so, he fell backwards, seemingly in shock by what he just seen.

Picking himself back up to his feet, Harry carefully walked forward to the object once more.

"Harry what the hell man?" A voice said from behind him before a prod on the shoulder joined it.

"Where there's magic, there's always an answer." Harry whispered to himself, ignoring the contact as he saw clearly the image that was on the mirror. "The ghost of Helena Ravenclaw, eat your bloody heart out." He murmured as the figures in the mirror stared back out at him.

Author's note: A couple of things to iron out.

Bode and Harry are made to contrast each other, with both of them being 'hat-ties'. So naturally I made a Claw-ish Slytherin and a Ravenclaw with Slytherin tendencies, in order to fully separate the two. I could have easily have put the two in the same house but felt like separating them would be the best idea. Don't put Bode down to be a "Marty-Stu" or a some kind of predictable, overused OC.

It's also important that there is meant to be a big difference between Riddle and Harry. I know the two are meant to be contrasted in Canon but here there is another important divergence made in their characters, one that will be made obvious later on in the story. Sorry to all those who wanted to see a Dark Lord Potter. (Then again, I wouldn't call him 'light' either, he really just does not give a fuck about what other people think about him.)

Harry might seem intellectually advanced for his age (overly so in some instances), but this is key to the plot. Think of it being as a one-in-a-generation type thing.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter otherwise I would have included strippers of some sort in the books and the movies. You can see there are no strippers in either; therefore I do not own Harry Potter.

Like always, do please review this story- that's one sure-fire way to make sure this story actually improves in quality.

Apologies for the wait in updates. I wanted to plan out some other chapters before I wrote this one. Do expect the pace of the story to pick up sooner rather than later.

JoBR.