Chapter 4

He stirred the sugar around in his tea, tapping the spoon delicately against the china. Setting the spoon down, he lifted the cup to his lips and took a long sip, breathing in the scent of rich tea leaves and honey. Closing his eyes for but a second, he relished in it.

Drawing back, he set the cup back down on and lifted his gaze to his guest.

Shira turned her tea cup around in circles on it's plate, fingers dancing slowly, methodically across its rim. Her dark eyes watched him, scrutinizing. Judging.

"I reviewed your test scores you sent me. You're progressing well, child. Even though that coursework was child's play for you." She smirked.

"It gets the job done. I can't over perform after all. I know the standards they expect me to be at and as long as I don't go out of my way to be . . . exceptionally brilliant then no one is any wiser." He took another sip of his tea. "Besides, being in Ravenclaw makes my professors practically expect perfect grades and performance. No one questions it. They're not even that impressed. Don't worry. I'm staying under the radar, just as promised."
Shira hummed, the speed of her fingers slowing a bit as she lost herself to her thoughts. It soon picked back up though. "And your friends?"
"Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy for one. Both heirs to prominent families. Opposing lines at that. Best of both worlds."
The vampire's lips twitched a little. "And you believe we can trust the Malfoy heir?"
Harry nodded once. "He feels overshadowed by his father's beliefs. Pressurred. Being sorted into Gryffindor, letting the hat do so even, has open up doors for him. He knows he has options now. I don't think he's afraid to make them either. At least, in the end. At present, I'm not sure he's ready. He still wants approval."

Shira remained silent for a minute, thinking over what he said. "Keep a watch over him then. He'd be valuable. What of the Longbottom heir?"
"At first, Neville seemed too shy, too understaffed, both in power and himself. As the year grew on though I realized his untapped potential. He has confidence issues and is perhaps a bit too trusting of others but he has character. There is definite promise there. He has already proven to be a strong ally and from what I heard from him so far, the Longbottom's would favor a third side anyway."
She gave a pleased hum. "Good. That's excellent. Who else?"
"Nymphadora Tonks, for one. Recent graduate. Metamorphmagus. She has been teaching me a few things, though she is unaware of my true identity. She's applied, and been accepted, into the auror program. Very forward thinking and powerful young woman. She's also a descendant of the Black's. Halfblood though."
"I like her. Her blood won't be much of an issue. We'll need equal representation. Besides, being a Black and a Metamorphmagus will be more than enough for the more traditionally inclined purebloods, should they come calling. Next?"
"Hermione Granger. Muggleborn. Very sharp mind. She's a quick study and more than decently powerful, though a bit narrow minded. With a big enough push though I think she'd be a very good ally. She's innovative. Progressive. She'd be able to add onto that side of things for us, particularly with the muggle influence. She's not arrogant in her mindset though, maybe a little bit but not enough to not consider things that oppose her. Eventually. She's probably the most difficult one I have."
"If we can get a muggleborn on our side early on that'll draw in more, weakening the Light. From what little you've said I believe she'd be a valuable addition. Start making her think a bit outside the box. Throw her for a loop. Make her see things, Harry." Shira pressed forward, fingers coming to a halt. Finally.

Harry gave a clipped nod. "Of course. Shall I continue?"

Shira took a sip of her tea and gave him a look, signaling the go ahead.

"Finally, there's the Weasley twins. I'm very confident in them. They're highly intelligent, resourceful, clever, and inventive. They know strategy and tactfulness well. They're also pretty good at sneaking around and are both powerful on their own but especially together. The twins feel a bit smothered by their family, I think. As if they couldn't ever get as much air as they needed. On our side they'd be able to spread their wings, something I know they want more than anything. From the way they talk, the opinions they have, I believe they'd be amenable."
"That's promising. Very much so. Having children from a dominantly light family will look good for us, especially if you manage to mangle in the Malfoy heir and even the Longbottom heir. You're doing well child. What else have you gathered?"
"The Ravenclaws seem to be very neutral in their opinions surrounding the problems of the previous war, making them a prime target. Gryffindor will of course mostly side with the Light and SLytherin with the Dark, with the exception of certain circles. Hufflepuff is a mixed bag, few Dark, and the rest split pretty evenly between neutral and light. They would be the next group to focus heavily on, once seeds have been planted of course. Hopefully, Neville and possibly even Tonks will do that for us." Shira nodded. He continued. "Dumbledore is keeping the location and concerns of Harry Potter under wraps. I believe it's about time we cause a bit of some unrest there. Rock the boat a little. It'll keep his distracted and perhaps show the other professors reaction to such a thing. I suspect McGonagall in particular would be enlightening. She doesn't seem as straightforward as I believe some people tend to portray her as."
"I'll drop a few words with my contacts in the Prophet. See what I can do. Maybe even have some "confirmed sightings"." Shira smiled minutely. His eyes flickered with mischief for a moment before he wrapped it up tightly, not wanting that expressed so openly. Shira didn't agree with such displays.

"I have nothing else of import to report." He told her, finished. Shira gave him a glance, eyes narrowed.

"Nothing? Are you sure?" He thought about Voldemort and his studies of the man, his studies of the magic that clung to him desperately. He thought of the leather jacket and journal in his room, the remains of his parents that he was hopelessly researching. He thought of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black and the letters he sent out. He thought of his deal with Fleur.

"I'm sure."

That Saturday, Harry found himself boarding the train. Having had flooed over from Potter Manor to the train station in France, he was finally able to set his bags down and head to England, where he would be met with the twins and their family (some of it anyway).

Closing the compartment door behind him, he took a seat on the worn seats, checking to make sure his bag was where he left it above him, right before he had gone to the restroom. Sighing, he leaned heavily into the foam, closing his eyes.

A soft hissing disrupted his peace. Sanguini slipped his head out from where Harry had hid him underneath the sleeve of his jacket (well, his father's leather jacket).

"Why do I have to be on this monstrous creation again?"

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes. Sanguini and he had already had this conversation. "I told you, we're going to stay with the Weasley's."
Sanguini hissed a short stream in annoyance. "Yes but why take the train when we could have just had the elf take us?"
"They're expecting us to come from the train, San. They'll be at Kings Cross, waiting for us, and even if Gen had just brought us over when the train from Paris is expected to arrive, odds are they'll have arrived early. I can't take any complications into account ahead of time, meaning I don't know exactly when the train will arrive. To avoid any suspicious questions, it's easier to just take the train from the start."

He could feel the snake coil in frustration, his scales gliding across the smooth skin of Harry's hand. "I still don't want to be here."
Harry finally rolled his eyes. "Yes I know. You've said so. Get over it. Don't forget we'll have to take the train to Hogwarts anyway."

Sanguini didn't respond but Harry was sure he could guess what the creature would have sassed and moaned over anyway.

Harry looked over at Natasha, whom he had left on the opposing seats to him. Natasha had been a bit difficult to bring along the train. It's not every day that someone brought a mostly tame tiger aboard after all. Fortunately, with Hogwarts approaching, Harry had already looked into ways to hide her size, and even her appearance as a more than decently sized tiger cub. At a little over a year, Natasha was more than easily hidden, that was for sure. She would not conveniently fit in his robe pockets anymore. Knowing this, Harry had owled Professor Flitwick, who had charmed a silk scarf for him that would size itself to fit around Natasha and once in place, would reduce her size to that of a regular housecat or at the least a nine week old tiger cub. If he so chose it, he could tap his wand to the scarf, utter a word, and she would have an illusion placed on her to make her look like a white cat. It was with this scarf that Natasha the siberian tiger cub had managed to board the train as a small white cat. She had not been pleased with the change, to say the least, and as soon as he could he had slipped the scarf off of her. After placing a wandless muggle repelling charm on the door to his compartment first though. And locking it. Just in case.

"Sanguini is sure being hissy isn't he?" He asked her. Natasha just stared at him flatly. Harry chuckled. "Get it? Hissy? Because he's a snake?" Natasha continued to look at him. He could feel the disappointment from there. Sighing, he waved at her. "Everybody's a critic."

Sanguini hissed unhappily at him. Harry ignored him.

Standing up, Harry slipped his bag down and grabbed his father's journal from it. Sitting back down, he caressed his hand over the worn leather and slowly opened it, breathing in the scent of old, heavy paper and stale ink.

Flipping through the first few pages, he took in the delicate sketchings of magical formulas. His father had designed warding, using arithmancy and ancient runes underneath heavy layers of charms mostly, and so on the pages were cascading plates, squiggly numbers and symbols, complex equations even he didn't quite understand. Picking up the book and doing a quick scan, Harry noted that many, many pages were like this one: full of ideas and theories. He couldn't help but wonder what James was working on and if his father had ever proven what he was seeing here. Knowing what happened, Harry doubted it.

Skipping a couple pages, eyes searching, he eventually stopped on the first non academic piece. On the soft page was a drawing of a boy who had dark curls falling in his eyes, charcoal heavy but light at the same time. He peeked up at him through lashes, stormy blue eyes, the only splash of color on the page, peered at him and at first, Harry saw mischief and life there but the longer he looked at it, the sadder the boy seemed. Moving his thumb across the drawing, he traced over a sharp jawline and high cheekbones. Thumb over his throat, he could almost believe that he felt the boy breathe.

It was the most alive piece of art he had ever seen.

Swallowing thickly, he closed the journal quickly and slid it under his thigh. Breathing through his nose heavily, he scratched at his face and curled up on himself.

For a second there, Harry had seen himself, even when he knew that was the face of a young Sirius Black.

"Oi! Thompson! Get your scrawny arse over here!" A voice yelled over the crowd he was currently making his way through.

"George! Language, please." A tired male's voice cut through. He snickered as he heard a weak apology in response and then a crack from Fred.

Politely excusing himself between a pair of women, Harry made his way towards the wall he could see the twins and who he assumed to be their father lingering around. No. Not Harry. He chastised himself, lifting his bag up to avoid colliding with a small child. You're Louis now.

"There's our favorite little git!" Fred grinned, throwing an arm over Louis's shoulders as George ruffled his blonde hair. Harry had made Louis favor a slightly darker blonde this year, more dirty than the soft blonde he had started the boy with. He had also gotten a "haircut" as Louis now sported a military style cut.

Harry (Louis) gave fred the stink eye as he elbowed George in the gut. "The only gits here are you two." He turned to Mr. Weasley and stuck out his hand. "You must be Mr. Weasley. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir, and please let me offer my condolences. Dealing with these two must be quite a challenge. It shows how strong a character a father like you must possess to be able to handle it. You have my utmost respect, sir."

Mr. Weasley shook Louis's hand firmly, a broad grin on his face as he nodded solemnly. "I admit, it was a challenge. Molly and I prevailed though."

"Hey!" The twins chorused together in mock outrage.

Mr. Weasley chuckled warmly. "I like this one, boys. And it's a pleasure to meet you as well Louis, I've heard nothing but good things from all my children. And please, call me Arthur. You're practically family already, son, especially if Molly has anything to say about it."
Louis smiled, pleased, and nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"Good man." Arthur bent down a little and clasped the handle for Louis's bag, lifting it easily. "Trunk in here?" Louis nodded. "Excellent. Well, best be making our way home now, boys. Your mother has dinner cooking." He turned to Louis. "We'll be travelling by Floo, are you familiar with it?"
"Professor Flitwick and I have travelled through the Floo several times, sir." Louis fibbed.

Arthur nodded.

Together, Harry and the three Weasley's made their way out of the train station and down the sidewalk into a little restaurant that Louis would have missed had he not been paying attention. Pulling out some floo powder, Arthur passed it to Fred, pushing him towards the fireplaces that lined the back wall of the dingy little restaurant. He felt Sanguini shift under his sleeve. Looking down at Natasha, he was suddenly glad he had sent Hedwig ahead.

"Now Louis, all you have to say is "the Burrow". The wards around it have been let down for a few hours to allow easier access so don't worry about a password." Louis nodded his understanding and not long after, disappeared in flames behind the twins.

Stepping out of the fireplace, coughing just a bit, he lifted his eyes and looked around. He found himself standing in a cluttered sitting room. With multiple, mismatched couches and armchairs, all decorated with various sized pillows and brightly colored blankets, and bookshelves filled to the brim with all sorts of things, the room was filled with life. A grandfather clock stood against a wall, near the window, and he watched as three spoons with Fred, George, and Arthur's faces on them moved from Traveling to Home as Mr. Weasley stepped out of the floo behind him. He continued looking as he heard the man walk off, greeting his wife with a yell of her name.

Little knickknacks lined shelves and table, traces of everybody that lived there just hanging about. He could hear the faint tune of an old record on the player, unfamiliar with the artist, and he smiled as he caught sight of several shoes, none matching. A basket of yarn and knitting needles rested against one chair, the same chair that a pair of needles clicked together above as they knitted something dark blue, patiently. A Quidditch magazine rested on the coffee table next to a hairbrush full of red hair. Several buttons littered around a lamp and a windchime dangled next to the window, chiming softly as wind blew in from the open crack. He smiled brightly.

"This place is awesome." He breathed, meaning it.

Fred peered over at him. "Yeah?" He said casually, but Louis could detect that hint of doubt, of self consciousness.

He smiled wider. "It's the best thing I've ever seen. I love it." And he did. Louis loved it with ever fiber of his being. From the cracks in the floor to the chips in the paint and the dents in the wall right down to the pictures on the side tables and the pile of laundry on the back wooden chair and the metal tub full of paint brushes and gardening tools and screwdrivers. He loved it a lot.

George shrugged, unpulsed. "Well . . . it's home." Louis saw him smile a bit smugly.

Breaking the moment, a door to his left was pushed open and he saw Mr. Weasley and a woman he knew to be their mother appear in the room. She smiled gently at him and pulled him into a warm, tight hug that made his spine pop and lungs lose air. He liked her immediately.

"You must be Louis!" She said, pulling back and framing his face with her hands. "Look at you, you must be hungry, dear. Don't worry, dinner has just finished up. Fred. George. Get the others." As George and Fred yelled and took the stairs by two steps at a time, Mrs. Weasley guided him into the kitchen, where he could practically see the love in the air. She kindly pushed him into a chair and turned around to grab the last bowl of food she had cooked, the rest of the table already set.

The rest of the Weasley's quickly filled the room. Mr. Weasley took a seat at the head of the table, Mrs. Weasley soon taking the seat to his right. Percy Weasley sat across from his mother, on his father's right, and Ron Weasley took a seat next to Percy, which placed him next to Louis. Nodding at him, Ron began to fill his plate before the twins even took a seat, both across from Louis, leaving the seat to his right, the other seat at the end of the table, open and empty.

"Where's Ginny?" Mrs. Weasley asked the room at large. Fred shrugged but before anyone could respond the kitchen door slid open again and a young girl with matching bright red hair of the others made her way in and took the remaining seat. She gave him a confused look before realization seemed to draw on her and she turned to her plate, muttering an apology to her mother.

At the unspoken word, everyone began filling their plates, each chatting amongst themselves easily. Conversation flowed and food was passed, spoons and forks clinking against plates and bowls, glasses being emptied and refilled quickly. Louis smiled at the feeling of comradeship he felt.

As he was listening to the twins, Ron, and surprisingly Ginny discuss Quidditch, Mrs. Weasley's voice cut through.

"So Louis, how was your trip over? It must have been a bit taxing, coming all the way from France. You must be quite tired, dear."
Swallowing the bit of food he had just taken, he nodded slowly. "It was fine, Mrs. Weasley thank you for asking. And I'm used to long hours and trips so I'm not all that more tired than usual if I'm being honest."

"You're from France?" Ron asked, brows furrowed. A bit surprised the boy didn't already know this, Louis hummed his affirmation.
"Why go to Hogwarts then?" Ron pressed on, still confused. "I mean, yeah Hogwarts is awesome but wouldn't your parents want you a bit closer to home?"

Feeling as if he had just been punched in the chest and the air was stuck in his throat, Louis failed to answer quickly. George jumped up for him.

"Ron, you idiot." He hissed, glaring at his younger brother. Fred's face matched his and Ron shifted uncomfortably next to him.

Clearing his throat around the lump that had found it's way there, Louis looked at the boy. "It's alright." He placated the twins, sending a look towards Mr and Mrs. Weasley as they looked apologetic as well. He turned back to Ron. "I'm an orphan, Ron. Raised in an orphanage in France. I'm originally from England though, hence my admission to Hogwarts."

"Oh." muttered Ron, who looked uncomfortable and deeply sorry. "Oh. I-"
Surprising him again, Ginny interrupted his, no doubt, awkward apology. "You must know french then." It was not a question.

He turned in his seat to look her straight on, Grey-blue eyes locking with her brown ones. "That is correct."
She raised an eyebrow challengingly at him. "Go ahead, then. Say something."
"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley gasped, apparently appalled enough at her children and their rudeness/bluntness. Louis was unperturbed though.

"Je mappelle Louis Thompson. J'ai douze ans. J'ai les cheveux blond et les yeux gris. J'aime danser et lire." He rasped out quickly, but making sure to pronounce things slowly enough for her to really hear. He stuck with simple things, something he knew someone with a basic understanding of french (very basic) should be able to understand.

Her lips twitch as she fought a smile before she straightened her face, focusing, Tipping her head a little in thought, he smiled as he knew she was trying to figure out what he said.

"Your . . . name is Louis Thompson and you are . . . neuf, dix, onze,ah! Twelve years old. Um . . . uh . . . you have blonde hair and . . . grey eyes. Oh! And you like to dance and . . . read?"

He grinned proudly at her. "Très bon. Very good, Ginny."
She grinned smugly, confidently. He heard Percy and Mrs. Weasley compliment and coo over her (respectfully obviously as Percy would never coo at Ginny if he wanted to keep his nose straight).

After that, dinner continued in light conversation, s=no longer strained or tense thanks to Ginny and he sent her a grateful smile when no one was looking. She smiled back at him and when it was time for bed, he waved goodnight to her as he followed the twins and Ron upstairs. Laying down on the spare bed in Ron's room (there being no more room in the twin's room for him), Natasha at the foot of it purring softly and Sanguini coiled up beside his stomach, Louis couldn't help but actually start to believe that this year, this summer, would be better than the last.

A/N: I was dreading writing this chapter but I actually enjoyed it. I hope you guys did too. Thanks for reading and please review.