AN: JUST SAYING, HARRY'S BROTHER ADAM IS STILL THREE YEARS YOUNGER THAN HARRY. HOWEVER, DUMBLEDORE IS STARTING HIS TRAINING EARLY SO THAT HE CAN EVENTUALLY FIGHT VOLDEMORT IF HE EVER COMES BACK. SORRY FOR THE CONFUSION.

Also, sorry for some of the spells previously that didn't have anything in them. The words got butchered when I posted the chapter for some reason.

E Pluribus Unum

Chapter 4

By: Paperfist

Harry woke up at the break of dawn, yawning silently as the sun rose slowly over the horizon. He sat up, and silently stalked through the common room towards the exit of the Ravenclaw Tower. The door silently slid open, Harry stepping smoothly through and out into the empty halls of Hogwarts.

Harry shook his head. Only a week into term, and he had already been the only unprankable person, resulting in many of the Gryffindors, Peeves, Sam, and the now recently conscripted Weasley twins. He turned a corner, jumped over a fake step where Sam had broken his leg falling into it a day ago, and exited the castle to enter the Hogwarts grounds.

Harry was still searching for a decent place where he could hang out by himself. A pity that with the horde of prankers stalking him, he couldn't find a suitable place to claim as his own. In fact, not two days ago, he was nearly pummeled by a love-making couple in their "special spot." Harry shuddered. He had dodged past volleys of nearly harmful spells that each exploded inches away from his head. Not to mention the male seventh year later tracked him down and threatened to end his life if he ever dared trespass that "holy" spot ever again.

Harry walked along the path next to the Forbidden Forest, wishfully thinking of all the possible secret places that could be used for whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He sighed and turned away, knowing that he could not possibly survive the dangers in the Forest with his current skills, as advanced for his age as it were. He made a mental note to himself to work on his battle magic and defensive charms, and resolved to be able to become skilled enough to enter the forest by the end of term.

He turned back up to the road that lead to one of the…more secretive exits of the castle, preparing to eat a very early breakfast before heading to the library for a chance to study before his long, very easy classes.

He didn't even get one step in before he heard scraggly voice of Filch talking to his pet cat Mrs. Norris. Harry froze and backed slowly into the shadows, his black clothing blending in perfectly.

Filch looked around and growled, "That stupid fool Peeves. He lied to us! Saying that there was a student in this area just so that he could escape us! We'll get him next time eh, Mrs. Norris?"

The cat stared straight at Harry, but just purred in agreement. Filch turned back around and into the darkness, Mrs. Norris following him closely. However, just as she was about to disappear, she turned around, waved her tail, and ran off into the blackness.

Harry wondered what the cat did, and why she didn't turn him in to Filch. Harry shook himself and walked slowly to the Great Hall, not bothering to look around for patrolling prefects. When he arrived in the Great Hall, he sat down at the completely empty Ravenclaw Table, and called out, "Hogwarts Elf!"

Almost immediately a small pop was heard and a small elf with a huge chef's hat spoke to Harry in a squeaky voice, "Hello Mr…" the house elf paused for a moment and pulled out from thin air a huge roll list. Less than a second later the house elf continued, "Mr. Harry Potter sir! What do yous want?"

Harry smiled for a second before saying, "Can I please have an early breakfast please, house elf…?"

The house elf started to sniffle. "Dots. Thank yous so much Mr. Harry Potter. No one has ever been so kind to me, nor anyone else…"

Harry rolled his eyes and sent her off with a fast reprimand before the elf would start bawling on him. House elves, he thought to himself. Harry hoped that the breakfast would come soon.

He was not disappointed, as in less than a minute later a huge array of dishes was laid before him, sending Harry's stomach into a ravenous growl.

After a fairly filling breakfast, Harry left the Great Hall as the early birds slowly started to trickle into the Hall. Harry greeted a startled Elan and Samantha before walking towards the Library.

There, after being greeted by Madame Pince, who seemed to like him, Harry began to look into different subjects that suited his…personal tastes. Harry was especially interested in elemental magic, and if Madame Pince was surprised by his choice, she didn't show it.

After a nice hour of quiet study in the basic theories of the elements, Harry walked back up to the Ravenclaw Tower to fetch his class supplies. He sauntered down, accosted by a curious Sam.

"Care to tell me where you were today?" Sam asked discreetly.

Harry fixed him with a solid stare and replied, "I was out for a walk."

Sam snorted and kept on walking with a slight limp. "Care to specify?"

"In Hogwarts. How's your leg?"

Sam glared at Harry. "Much better, thank you. All because of that bloody fake stair that always pretends to be real. Fuckin-AHHH!"

Sam's right leg had fallen straight through the stair, coincidentally the same one in which he had broken his leg yesterday. Harry just smirked, stepped over the fake step, and left his highly annoyed friend stuck in a staircase yelling for help.

A few minutes later, Sam walked in the Hall again, limping even more pronounced than the day before, glaring at Harry.

Harry just smiled innocently and returned to his Quidditch talk with Roger.

As Sam neared, punching his fist into his palm, Harry told Samantha in a secretive voice how Sam had been moaning her name last night and how he had to cast Silencing Charms on Roger's and his bed to keep out the sounds. Sam's face paled drastically when Harry siced Samantha on Sam. Harry couldn't help but smirk at a fleeing Sam, with a very, very embarrassed Samantha chasing him. All in all, it was already a good start to his day.

Harry stomped his way past a couple of whispering Gryffindors, spinning around as two Dungbombs were thrown at him by a chuckling Peeves. It was the day before first term ended, and his day was not, to put in a short way, going well. He had been assigned detention with Professor Robards for "making disrespectful faces to the teacher," was stalked by a couple of other glory-seeking students who wanted to meet the Boy-Who-Lived over the holidays, and had been forcefully impressed into Flitwick's tutoring group on several first year charms.

Harry shook his head and growled. What was even worse was that when he showed a small sign of reluctance, the tiny Professor set up an appointment after his last class to discuss with him about "furthering your academic talent" as well as "forging new friendships that will last a lifetime."

He snorted. Looking on the bright side, he had managed to conjure a small ball of fire and direct it, as well as freeze a small object thanks to his intense practicing over the past months. Harry was slightly disappointed that he had not made much progress, but he reminded himself that he did not have a good book to learn from. He made a mental note to "suggest" a nice birthday present to Remus when he got back.

Harry rounded the corner that led to Flitwick's office, cursing when he remembered that he had to get a present for Remus and Sirius, not to mention Sam, Elan, Roger, and Samantha. He walked up to a small door and knocked once. A squeaky voice said from within, "Come in."

Flitwick was sitting on a high chair, his small hands folded over the desk. His face lit up when he recognized him

"Ah! Mr. Potter! I was expecting you. Please, have a seat."

"Good afternoon Professor."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter. Would you like some tea?"

"No Professor, thank you."

The small Charms professor smiled and said, "I remember that I said to you that I was going to talk about furthering your academic talents, no?"

"And forging new friendships that will last forever also," Harry pointed out with slight sarcasm, so slight that Flitwick did not catch it.

"And that as well, Mr. Potter. I have noticed, that, well, you have become very bored with your classes. I take it that you have been reading Occulemency: Building the Memory Fortress by S.E. Simmons? It is quite the challenging read, not to mention one would not often see a first year reading that book."

Harry's breath hitched, and his breathing became labored. "Well sir, you see…"

Flitwick waved his hand and said, "It's all right Mr. Potter. Here."

With a flick of his wand, a thick tome was levitated from his desk and deposited itself right into Harry's lap. He read the cover, recovering from his initial shock. The title read Charms: The Compilation of the Magikal Charms of the World (1400 B.C.E. to 1950 C.E.).

"Hopefully this will be subject related, and you may read it after you have completed your classwork, which, of course, should be no problem to you." Flitwick grinned. "So what was this about tutoring and forging new friendships?"

Harry had wholeheartedly agreed to help those struggling with charms in his year.


The first thing Harry noticed was A black blur headed towards him at a fantastic speed, thudding into him. With an oof, Harry was driven backwards as a large black dog licked his face, excited to see him.

Harry grinned. "Glad to see you to Padfoot."

Remus approached Harry, smiling. "Hey Harry. How's Hogwarts?"

Harry smiled back, scratching the black dog's ears. "It's fine, the usual yelling, screaming, laughing, etc. How is home life?"

Remus broke into a grin. "You wouldn't believe what's happened! Sirius has decided to make a strip club in the shadier areas of Diagon Alley of course, but I have decided to create a clothing shop with Sirius's help of course."

Harry stared blankly at Remus. "Are you kidding?"

Remus laughed, "You actually believed me?"

Harry shook his head, cast a feather-light charm on his trunk, and pulled it behind him.

Remus' eyes widened. His eyes looked frantically around the station, ready to pinpoint the Ministry Owl that was ought to come in at any moment. Harry absent mindedly cast a Mobilcorpous as well, and waited impatiently for Remus to come.

The werewolf's eyes sharpened, for it had been already five minutes, yet the owl had not even come, a very strange occurrence. Harry finally walked over to Remus, asking in annoyance, "What's the goddamn matter Remus? Get your lazy ass over here so we can get out!"

Not even bothering to reprimand Harry for his language, he replied, "That was a fantastic show of a feather-light charm, not to mention that skilled Mobilcorpous as well."

Harry's eyebrows shot up in horror. "Oh shit…"

Remus continued, "But however, I have noticed the lack of an owl, so…"

Harry's eyebrows shot even higher with surprise, then narrowed. "Wicked!" he said.

Remus shook his head. "Also, did you hear that James and Lily had a new baby? They didn't even know until this October! Didn't you get a letter?"

Harry shook his head coldly and replied, "I didn't even know until now. Guess I should come over to see the new baby before she becomes as conceited as Adam."

Sirius shook his head sadly and replied, "Perhaps. Perhaps."

Harry turned away coldly and stalked down to King's Cross, preparing to leave for a now looking terrible Winter Break.

Harry arrived at Grimmauld Place, and after bowing and greeting the old Lady Black "properly" as her way to describe it was, Harry went straight to the fireplace and yelled out, "Potter Cottage, Godric's Hallow!"

A whirl of fireplaces later, Harry came to a stop. He waved his wand at his clothes and whispered, "Purgo."

His clothes instantly cleaned of the soot, and Harry walked through the already noisy house. He walked into the kitchen where Adam was stuffing himself with chocolate cake and his mother wiping his mouth with a clean napkin, chastising him gently. Harry's stomach clenched as he realized that he would never share the deep love that this family shared. Slowly and firmly, controlling his voice, he asked, "Can I see the baby?"

Lily Potter jerked her head. "Upstairs, your old bedroom," she said tersely. "She's been crying all night, giving me a darn headache. No Adam, not like you. You are always so polite and nice. Don't worry. [Harry tapped his foot impatiently as Lily comforted her other son] Now go Harry. Can't you see I'm busy?"

Harry's fists tightened, but he didn't reply. Quietly he started up the stairs and, following the cries, entered the room.

Inside the room, a newly, beautifully decorated nursery with twinkling stars on the top and safari animals sleeping peacefully in the background enveloped a small crib with loud cries erupting from it. Harry winced at the noise but nevertheless continued, until he saw his sister. She had a full mane of short straight dark red hair, and when she opened her eyes, Harry saw that she shared the same green eyes as he did. Not a brilliant, light green, but darker, more soulful eyes. Harry smiled. Maybe there was still some love left for him in the Potter family after all.

Harry laid a soft hand on her forehead, his cool hand clearing her feverish mind. His sister relaxed, her tense body completely gone. "What's your name, little sis huh?"

Harry looked at the name on the crib. "Juniper…Juniper Potter," he mused. "Not too bad, but it doesn't have a great ring to it. What's the craze about flowers again?"

June had fallen aspleep, her babyish features squished into a cute snore. Harry shook his head, conjured a teddy bear with a name tag labeling "Harry," and placed it next to his baby sister. He then turned away, away to Grimmauld Place, where he could hopefully blow some steam. He smiled with anticipation when he remembered that he could now do magic without being detected. Harry was now thinking it was going to be an excellent Christmas Break.


On December 25, 1983, Harry Potter was lying on the guest bed at Grimmauld Place, the perfect epitome of blissful sleep…

"MERRY CHRISTMAS CUB!"

"AH SHIT! Bombarda!"

Sirius Black was blown across the room, through the door and crashed into Remus who was eating cookies at the kitchen table at a maniacal rate.

Harry rubbed his eyes, summoned his glasses, and looked around at the carnage. He rolled out of bed just in time when his bed exploded into tar and feathers. Harry conjured a physical barrier when he opened the door, and sure enough, a pail of water came tumbling down.

Harry shook his head when he saw Sirius groaning and lying half dead on the table, with cookie mush all over the place. "Merry Christmas, Sirius."

After the extensive clean up was over, Harry was led to a huge Christmas tree. Harry had bought a Muggle prank book as well as the muggle version of Kama Sutra. For Remus, Harry had bought from his meager funds a year's worth of Wolfsbane Potion, which left a hugged Harry without air to breathe; consequently, when Remus finally let go, Harry had nearly collapsed. He was surprised when he found gifts from Sam, Elan, Roger, and Samantha. From Sam, he got a huge bunch of chocolates, ones that were charmed to taste like whatever you liked best with zero sugar. From Elan and Roger, he had gotten a nice set of silver knives for Potions. Remus had immediately left the room when he saw them. Finally, from Samantha, he got a book on famous elementalists. Harry frowned. She must have seen him checking out books on controlling the elements. That wouldn't do.

From Remus, as expected, he got a book on controlling the Fire and Ice elements, thanks to the "suggestion" that Harry made. Harry grinned. He couldn't wait to start to practice. Strangely enough, there was no present from Sirius. Harry turned to him and raised an eyebrow in questioning. Sirius smiled cheerfully, and said, "Well pup, I have a really nice present for you. For the next couple weeks, including weekends at the Shrieking Shack, I have procured an excellent fighting teacher for you. It'll whip you into shape fast, don't worry."

Harry shuddered. Whenever Sirius had that smile, it wasn't anything good that was coming. He followed Sirius as his godfather happily strolled down the hallway into an enormous Hall that Harry never knew was there. It was covered in enormous obstacles, stones, trees, thimbles, that made it into a real life environment. Harry gulped. Whoever his teacher was, he surely knew what he was doing.

"I have told your teacher that you are a prodigy for your age, and you would dearly like to unlock your potential," Sirius said wickedly. "I have also said that you are using a training wand, as for him not to question you. Just wait for him here, he just said he would be a little late."

With that, he turned around, whistling a merry tune, and the two great doors that were the entrance to the hall were shut with an ominous thud.

Harry mused, I wonder who is teaching me. Hopefully is quite skilled, but will go a little bit easier on me…

Suddenly, a black blur appeared to his right and a beam of red sped towards him. Even with his nearly inhumanly fast reflexes, he was hit and fell to the ground, his vision blackening.

"Ennervate! CONSTANT VIGILANCE POTTER!"

Harry sat up and stared. In front of him, a short stubby man with a bright magical eye, hundreds of scars, and a fake leg was standing in front of him, wand at the ready. It was Mad-Eye Moody. In horror, Harry looked at the man's nose, which was missing a large chunk.

"My nose huh? Rosier got that one with a nasty curse. Black said you are a prodigy. My job is to teach you otherwise. Bombarda!"

The bludgeoning curse missed Harry by inches as he threw himself away from the spell.

"Fight back Potter! Or are you too scared?"

Harry growled and flicked out his wand, casting for all as he was worth. His Winter Break was turning out to be really, really, nasty.

Sirius turned a corner, wondering what torture Harry was going under through right now. Poor Harry, he thought to himself. Absentmindedly, he summoned Harry's trunk and rifted through it, "making sure" that Harry had not brought back any harmful materials. Frowning, he looked at a small leather covered notebook that simply read, Calculations.

When the man opened to the first page, he was astounded. Hundreds of Arithmancy calculations that seemed to, according to Harry's barely comprehensible notes, had something to do with the properties of elemental magic, specifically fire and ice. Stunned, he turned to the next section, this time with Potion ingredients and theories all over the paper. Snive-Snape must be implanting all of this into him, Sirius thought to himself. He sighed, and read the top of the paper. The title of it shocked him to the core.

"REMUS!"

With a hurry, the werewolf entered the room, asking, "What the hell is wrong, Sirius?"

The dog Animagus pointed at the immense work. "Read the top, Moony."

Remus did, and collapsed on a nearby armchair. "How?" he asked weakly.

Sirius sighed. "I have no idea how he has done this. An eleven year old doing all of this?"

Remus sighed and pulled the notebook closer to him. "With my basic knowledge of Arithmancy, this actually isn't that advanced. It's just, well, it's a way that no one has ever thought about before. He chose a very long, laborious way instead of using more complex things, because, I guess, he has a very limited knowledge of this." Remus shook his head. "And by the looks of it, both projects were very time consuming, and though by his work he got close to the…revolutionary one, he didn't get the right combination."

"But Remus…If he is this close when he is eleven, this talented and so ambitious, what will happen later? What will happen to Harry's family? What will happen…to us?"

Remus nodded grimly. "That's the question isn't it?"


Harry Potter had never felt pain such as this. His entire body was covered in cuts, not deep enough to be harmful, but certainly enough to bleed. In the previous six hours that he had been training, not including the dueling time, he had been forced to fight against Moody with a sword. When he first took a look at the wooden sword, Harry had asked Moody if he was joking. Laughing, his brutal instructor replied the affirmative. Then, he had drawn out a real sword. When Harry had heard from Sirius that he was going to be trained in fighting, he had expected to be injured. Have bruises. Welts. Perhaps even a cracked rib or two.

Moody, in their first bout, disarmed him and then drew a thin, elongated gash down the side of his neck. The wound still hurt like hell. And that was six whole hours ago.

Harry had thought, hoped, that the injury was an accident. That hope was quashed very quickly. The young wizard was half dead from the cumulated effects of the wounds the ex-Auror had produced on his body. Moody had been aggressive yet precise with him, and had made him pay for every mistake he made in blood. Once, his footwork had been clumsy. Moody had sketched a bloody line across his calf. Another time the grip on his sabre had been loose. His hellish trainer slashed a seven inch long cut down Harry's arm. Over and over again, the slight errors in his fight were immediately pointed out with an ever slicing sword. This time, his strike overextended by half an inch, and Moody had reciprocated by carving a furrow down his back.

That had been all he could take, and so Harry fell back and landed against the ground in a sitting position with a loud thud.

"Get up," the ex-Auror spoke, not a speck of compassion in his iron voice, "I am not through with you yet."

"I'm bleeding everywhere," he protested, and showed the blood that stained his whole body.

"You haven't bled before?" Moody spoke incredulously. "You will live."

Harry gawked at his trainer. He had expected Moody to be cruel and heartless in his instruction. But this was a level beyond that.

"You can't be serious. I'll be a corpse at this rate."

"Your exaggerations do you no favors, Potter. None of your wounds are fatal."

That, sadly, was true. The myriad of cuts and gashes that leaked blood from his body were all superficial wounds. They broke skin and cut flesh, but left important arteries and organs alone. Nothing a quick Episkey couldn't fix. Still, they hurt. They hurt a lot. And yet Moody refused to allow him to mend them. Added to the exhaustion he felt during the long, drawn-out sparring sessions in which Moody toyed with him, it made him feel completely drained. Harry doubted that he would have the strength left to walk out of the room, let alone walking to the Floo.

"Get up Potter," Harry's trainer said yet again, "Cease from this weakling behavior."

Harry swallowed the curse that had been forming on his lips with great difficulty. Instead, Harry settled for just glaring at his teacher.

"Come at me," Moody growled.

"No!" Harry was surprised at his own refusal. What the Moody asked of him seemed impossible. "I have learned nothing from you! You just can't expect me to match you all of a sudden! I need to learn the stances! The movements! All you're doing is bashing your sword against mine!"

His trainer barked a short, humorless laugh. And then Moody surged forward, his form a blur. Harry had time to roll back up before Moody was upon him. The steel blade crashed down, and Harry felt the weariness in his limbs as his sword rose to deny the entry. Harry grunted at the impact, and the weariness increased tenfold as the ex-Auror matched his unholy strength against Harry's. The two blades locked. His knees gave away.

"You are weak," Moody snarled menacingly into Harry's face, and the sword that his trainer held pressed inhumanly towards his shoulder. "You are no prodigy."

Harry fought with all his strength, all his desperation, but it was a futile struggle.

"You are pathetic Potter," Harry winced as Moody leaned in even closer. The smoldering green eyes glared at her tauntingly.

His sword was touching his own shoulder now, the double-edged blade pressing painfully down against his skin. Harry gritted her teeth as Moody slid his sword down, the grey blade screeching as it grated against Harry's own. At the last second, the ex-Auror flicked his wrist, and the very tip of his sword slipped past Harry's crumbling guard to carve a long gash down his shoulder.

Harry hissed in pain.

"You are inferior," before the young wizard could respond, Moody backhanded Harry and sent him tumbling away.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" Harry lifted his head from the ground and pawed at his aching cheek, "Why are you doing this!"

"I am training you."

"This isn't training," he spat, "This is Hell."

"You must go through Hell first before tasting Heaven. And believe me when I say this is nothing compared to what I have suffered through."

"Madness," he whispered, "You are insane. Merciless."

"Foolish Potter," the ex-Auror mocked, "Weak and pathetic you already are, yet you still amaze me with your shortsightedness."

Harry stood unsteadily back up, and then dropped back down when Moody's callused fist slammed into his stomach.

"Do you really think that power alone comes from strength? Do you really think that your potential can be learned from some stances and movements, some spells and some charms? Are you really that blind?"

Moody kicked him. His boot lifted Harry off the ground and hurled the young wizard ten feet through the air.

"Forget what your parents, your guardians have taught you," Moody snarled as he stalked towards her, "for they are lies twisted to become truth. Only through blood and pain can you reforge yourself to become stronger, better."

Harry clawed at his fallen blade, wrested from his hand when he had been thrown. Moody stomped down, and harry cried out as his fingers were ground painfully under the ex-Auror's sole.

"For you to become great, you must first know weakness. For you to ignore pain, you must first walk through the fires of agony. For you to win, you must first learn to lose."

Moody released him, and Harry rolled backwards, ever retreating.

"Those are universal truths, Potter. But nearly all refuse to accept it. Our race will not embrace them for fear of the hurt they will cause. But those few who do, shine all the brighter."

Moody flicked Harry's fallen blade towards him with Moody's own. Harry reached for it with trembling hands.

"It is not strength that makes man great. It is not might that makes our race the destined rulers of the stars. It is will! Strength of will! Courage of will!"

Harry grasped the sword, his aching hands clutching the wooden hilt.

"What could our race, spawned as nothing more than the descendants of apes, do if you simply worked together? But instead you fight. You rage. You kill. And for what? Humanity is the brightest star this universe has ever seen, but it is also the scum that the galaxy would wipe from its shoes."

Moody slapped his callused hand against his chest.

Harry ached all over. He bled from dozens of wounds purposely inflicted by the knight. His arms felt like they were on fire.

"Great men become great because they will it! Heroic deeds are done because heroes will it! And believe me when I say, Harry Potter, that you can scale the heights of power, staking your own name into the grains of history, immortalizing yourself forever if you will it!"

Moody pointed his massive broadsword at him, its edges cackling with tendrils of magical energy.

"The question is, do you will it?"

Harry bit his lip and forced himself up, his legs trembling but resolute, shaky but firm arms brought his sword up over his head, ready to fight once more.

Moody smiled, unnaturally brightening his face.

"I thought so."

And then he charged.

AN: So that's that. Probably no updates till next week.

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