Hello, and welcome back to Hadrian Potter: Darkness Returns! So...you remember how I said I would be updating more often/quickly? How I was going to be focusing a getting out a new chapter every few weeks? It turns out I'm a dirty rotten liar. It doesn't help that this chapter felt like a whole lot of filler: you all probably knew this stuff was going to happen, but I still needed to type it out. Anyway, please R&R!
Shoutouts:
Trekke1 and alix33, who have been serving as my official and unofficial betas, respectively.
Man of Constant Sorrow, for his praiseful PM. Unfortunately, due to my personal distaste for such shameless self-promotion, I will not be post this PM, as it is too lengthly for me to add to my story without it looking like shameless word length extension.
To all those who caught it, yes, I really did slip in a Yu-Gi-Oh reference and a PotC reference. I feel that including elements of other stories in my fic allows me to use them if they could improve the plot. This fic will never be a true crossover with anything except possibly D&D. But that doesn't come until later.
To all my other readers/reviewers, thank you! I love getting feedback on my stories and watching the view count rise! It makes me feel better about myself and the time I spend thinking up and typing out each chapter. Please read and review!
Chapter 4: Newsworthy Events
—September 1, 1992—
Hadrian Potter was making his way through Kings Cross Station for the third time. He was accompanied by the Weasley parents, those of their children going to Hogwarts this year, and Luna; the odd girl has been discovered about an hour by a tired Mrs. Weasley on the Weasleys' front porch sitting on her truck and softly humming "Beneath the Scotsman's Kilt". Harry wasn't very happy, as it was 10:53 am. The Weasleys had gotten up at their usual time, and of course, Harry had been the only person to pack all his stuff the night before so he wouldn't be rushing around at the last minute trying to find all his stuff. After a quick breakfast, and the mad scramble to pack, they had all piled into the flying Ford Anglia and set off to Kings Cross; at the time, Harry had marveled at the fact that, in the rush to find everything, nothing had been forgotten.
Of course, it turned out that, not only had things been forgotten, but one trip back wasn't enough to jog everyone's memories, because they ended up turning around and returning to the Burrow for something or other some three or four times. It was a quarter 'til by the time they actually reached the train station, and hurrying through the crowds wasn't exactly an option in such a crowded place—although being such a large group did help in that regard.
The rest of their little group wasn't so happy go lucky either; the summer had ended on a sour note between Harry and Mrs. Weasley, and the rest of the Weasleys weren't helping matters. A few days after their little excursion to Diagon Alley, the Daily Prophet had arrived, sparking an argument between him and the Weasley matriarch. Skeeter's article contained an interview with Harry, the first ever, and Rita's subsequent research into a few of his claims. A little misdirection and a few half-truths and the public would be taking his side. As a bonus, it had given him a reason to distance himself from Mrs. Weasley, making it that much easier to avoid her tainted food.
With a few minutes to spare, they finally arrived at platforms nine and ten. Percy rushed through first, muttering something about prefects and tardiness, and was quickly followed by the twins. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley went through next, which seemed a bit irresponsible to Harry, considering how dangerous train stations could be for children. Luna and Ginny went through together, and were closely followed by Ron.
Who slammed into the barrier and fell down with a clatter. Harry rolled his eyes. "Damn it, Potter!" Ron groaned, slowly picking himself up. "What'd you do that for?"
Hadrian narrowed his eyes at the ginger. "I didn't do anything Weasley. We just took so long getting to the station that the barrier closed before we could get through. Look: it's already eleven." He pointed to a nearby clock, which sure enough, began chiming.
Ron looked at it, his face screwed up in concentration. Suddenly, his face lit up, and he continued gathering his fallen things in earnest. "If I can't take the train, I'll just go by car!" Harry sighed at Weasley's suggested plan: take the flying car? Ignoring the fact that it would be easily seen by muggles (according to Mr. Weasley, the flight function was fine, but the invisibility button was on the fritz, explaining why they'd driven to Kings Cross), wouldn't his parents come back for the car? "Besides," Harry thought, "this can't be the only time someone's missed the train; there's probably another way in. Even if there isn't, I could always shadow-travel." This plan of action suited Harry just fine. As he made his way towards the nearest loo—wouldn't want to disappear in broad daylight, now would he—he noticed that Ron was already gone. Shrugging, he made his way in and quickly traveled through the shadows directly onto the train.
As he felt the scarlet engine begin to pull the train towards Hogwarts, he made his way to their usual compartment. Sure enough, he found Hermione and Draco waiting there, both of them busy reading. He put away his trunk after retrieving one of his new books and settled into the seat, reading. Cheshire appeared out of thin air, wrapping himself around Harry's shoulders, as he usually did. Harry wasn't too worried about Hedwig, who he had released at the Burrow to fly to Hogwarts; she could find her own way there, she'd done it before.
After a few minutes of reading, the door opened to admit Ginny and the twins. The three of them froze at the sight of Harry sitting there. "How did you beat us here, mate?" Fred asked incredulously.
"Yeah, we were looking for you, but you never came through the barrier," George added.
"It shut off before I could make it through," Harry said in answer, "So I took an...alternate route." Draco gave a small smirk at this, but said nothing. Shrugging, and receiving no further explanation from Harry, the twins hauled their trunks up to the overhead baggage areas before helping Ginny with hers. Luna arrived, apparently having taken her time to arrive, and while the twins put her trunk with the others, she sat down next to Harry so as to have a staring contest with Cheshire. As the others watched, Cheshire very slowly, deliberately blinked before traipsing from Harry's shoulders onto Luna's, to his surprise. Luna gave an odd half-smile and looked around, seemingly (but most assuredly not) oblivious of the incredulous looks she was receiving; Cheshire never behaved for anyone but Harry. While this was going on, the small compartment had expanded to give everyone plenty of space.
Sitting down, George looked at his twin with a twinkle in his eye. "So," George said casually.
"Who's interested—" Fred said.
"—in a friendly game of—" George continued, drawing a deck of cards from his sleeve.
"—Exploding Snap!" the finished together with twin grins. Ginny smiled, as did Draco, while Hermione grimaced; she didn't enjoy the game very much, but she still put her book down and scooted over to join them. Harry shrugged and put away his book as well, willing to go through with a game or two. George began dealing, and it was obvious that he had a bit of dexterous skill, if his speedy techniques were any indication.
Exploding Snap was a rather odd card game that could be played with what appeared to be a normal deck of playing cards; the manufacturers had included a spell written on the box that would disable the more violent nature of the deck, allowing for normal card games to be played with it. The game started with the dealer (initially, the youngest player) drawing three cards at random from the deck, which always had 54 cards (13 cards per suit, with four suits total, and the two jokers). The cards were then shuffled and dealt out one at a time to each player, including the dealer, in turn until no cards remained. The three cards drawn prior to shuffling are set aside and not looked at until the game is over.
There are no turns in Exploding Snap, only rounds, totaling seven in all, unless the game ends early. Each player can place down a pair (or a trio or quartet if they have one) of matching cards to get points; all players may do this if they can, but they do not have to. It is recommended that they do, because pairs place down in the first round are worth the most points: 13. Every round after the first, the number of points received decreases by one. If you had a trio, it was worth 17; a quartet, 23, with all three possibilities decreasing at the same rate of one point per round. The jokers, having only one possible combination, were worth 29 points, but their value decreased at a rate of two per round. Once everyone had placed down their cards, they can move onto the important part of the game: the passing round.
At the end of every round, each player would pass a number of cards to the player on their left equal to the number of rounds that had been played. This is the tricky bit, and involves why the game is called Exploding Snap: if you're holding a card without at least a pair (for instance, if you're holding the queen of clubs, and someone placed down the other three queens), then the card would explode unless passed on. This gets tricky when you remember that there are three card types that there's only three of. If you don't have enough cards to pass on, you pass on your whole hand; there is no point penalty for doing so.
The game is over when every player is out. There are three ways a player can be declared out. The first way is if they run out of cards. Any cards that would have been passed to them are instead passed to the next player down. The second way is if the player defaults: the player lays down their hand and awards themselves one point for every card in their hand. This particular strategy is nearly useless in a game with many players, but is usually surprisingly effective in team matches. The third possibility is card death: if you fail to pass three pair-less cards on the same turn, you entire hand will go up in flames and you are out; you receive no points for the cards in your hand. Alternatively, the game is over after seven rounds and six passing rounds have gone by (the seventh passing round is unnecessary, as it is no longer possible to default or place down pairs, trios, and quartets).
After nearly an hour of play, Harry and Hermione were both done playing: they had suffered card death at least three times each, and in one particular game, had both gone through it at the same time. Begging off additional games, they retrieved their respective reading materials as the others continued playing and retreated the meter or so to the other side of the expanded compartment. Well, Hermione at least; Hadrian was busy noting how the others had fared in the explosion, while thinking of how they'd played. He and Hermione had been playing fairly, she because of moral integrity, he because he wished to return to his book, as he'd been in the middle of an interesting idea. Fortunately for them, the game, despite the number of explosions involved was designed to be completely safe, so they were left unharmed.
Draco, as usual, had been attempting to subtly cheat his way into the lead, and had done well early on, but gradually declined as his cheating became more and more blatant. The twins had also been cheating the entire game, although they had been intentionally obvious about it, joking about how lucky they'd get at times or, when a card erupted in their faces before they could pass it on, they each chastised the other for messing up; their banter served to lighten up the game, dulling the more competitive edges in the group and reminding them that it was just a game.
This did not, however, excuse the fact that Luna, despite not appearing to cheat at all, never once had a card blow up while she held it, even during the fireball that had claimed both his and Hermione's hands. She had won more hands than anyone else, although she wasn't too far ahead of anyone; Harry considered that she might be cheating using some sort of familial divination power, but dismissed this as any such gift, even if she had one, was unlikely to be at her beck and call.
Harry picked up where he'd left off: he was reading about some basic wandless casting theory and seeing how it compared to his experiences. Several minutes passed in this manner, with the Weasleys, Luna, and Draco continuing to play Exploding Snap in the background. Harry found himself relaxing into the seat; he couldn't seem to concentrate on the book in front of him. He was too busy thinking about the recent events regarding Mrs. Weasley.
—Flashback—
—August 11, 1992—
It was a more or less normal morning at the Burrow: breakfast was being served, Ron was whining about how much work Ginny was making him do (discreetly), the twins were discussing pranks in whispered voices, and Harry was drinking a small dose of Amortentia antidote. For once, Arthur was home in the morning—it didn't happen too often—and Percy had come out of his room to scarf down some food before returning to his work.
Somehow, it turned out that everyone was present for the arrival of the Daily Prophet. As Mrs. Weasley paid for the paper, she shrieked at the sight of the title; the post owl, having received its payment, beat wing out of there like it was being chased by demons. The loud piercing sound had not gone unnoticed by the human inhabitants: everyone looked up at her. She glared back at them and began to read the paper out loud. Harry resisted the urge to smirk when he saw the title:
EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH LORD POTTER!
HAS THE MINISTRY MUCKED UP?
by Rita Skeeter
As mentioned in the previous issue of The Daily Prophet, there was so much newsworthy material collected after the announcement of employment by Gilderoy Lockhart, this reporter managed to find Lord Harry Potter in the crowd and set up an interview. No, the title is not a misprint fair readers; the law allows our young savior to take his rightful place in our world, and he bore his house ring with pride. While the interview took place that very night, it is only being released now because this reporter wished to do the necessary research into a few more controversial topics that were discussed that night. I would remind you, my dear readers, that the Boy-Who-Lived has never before been interviewed by the media and, as a matter of fact, has never been seen prior to his arrival in Diagon Alley the summer before his first year. Where was he? What did he do? The truth has been revealed to me, fair readers, and it is not pretty.
I met the young Lord in the Leaky Cauldron at approximately 10:23 pm three nights ago; I almost didn't recognize him, as he appeared to have taken pains to disguise himself from the boisterous rabble present that night. He seemed a quiet lad when I first saw him, but don't mistake that to mean he seemed shy—indeed, he almost exuded confidence to the point that full grown adults were moving out of his way, despite having no idea who he was. I will say that he came across as a bit withdrawn, like he was hiding behind a mask during our little meeting; it took a great deal of the skill I've gained over many years of talking to uncomfortable sources of information to discern any emotion in the young Lord Potter at all. As a matter of courtesy, he treated me to dinner before we got down to business. We talked over the meal; we talked of his childhood, what he knows of the Wizarding World, what he thinks of it, and his opinion of our world's leadership.
The first issue I attempted to discuss was his childhood: where was he for the ten years following that night? What did he do? These questions needed answering. Many readers will remember a certain book series detailing young Mr. Potter's adventures as a child; these books were marked with the Skeeter Publishing Co. Stamp of Authenticity, a sign of veracity accepted throughout the Wizarding World. It shames me to admit that not only were most of these stories shown to be incorrect, but that Lord Potter was aware of them, and of their false nature. He pointed out that the date on most of these stories would have had him as a young toddler for most of his adventures, and that no child could have accomplished some of the deeds in the books. He also pointed out that in this book series, he has been sorted into Gryffindor, a very different outcome from the reality: Lord Hadrian Potter is a Slytherin.
Fortunately, he assured me that he does not hold Skeeter Publishing Co. responsible for being fooled by those that wrote these books. These companies, in turn, are being contacted by barristers recently hired by Lord Potter, who is threatening to sue the companies in question unless they meet certain requirements set down by him: namely, that they admit their stories to be fiction and cease attempting to fool the public otherwise, and of course a share of the profits made on his name without the permission of either him or his guardians.
I endeavored that night to learn about how our savior had truly grown up. It is well known that he was spirited away by Dumbledore to who knows where; it is less well known that Dumbledore sealed the Potter will and Mr. Potter's guardian's identity away from the majority of the Wizarding World, to prevent less scrupulous individuals from attempting to kidnap him or do him or his guardians harm. The esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts is known to have witnessed the will reading, and presumably carried out its instructions.
When questioned on his childhood, Lord Potter had little to say, insisting "the past was best left in the past". Nevertheless, this reporter was able to squeeze some information out of him. Mr. Potter insisted that he'd had no contact with the Wizarding World prior to last summer; he did say that on more than one occasion a complete stranger would walk up and thank him, or shake his hand, before disappearing once more. Both he and I agreed that these people were probably wizards or witches taking a sojourn into the muggle world and managed to spot the young Boy-Who-Lived.
The only other point of interest, and what would turn out to be the most damning statement I collected that night was "I'm muggle-raised and have the scars to prove it." Some of our more traditionally-inclined readers might jump to the conclusion that he was abused by his muggle guardians: I myself did the same thing, before conceding the fact that muggles, having no access to magical healing, would likely heal injuries naturally, resulting in scars. Deciding not to make any more assumptions about Lord Potter, I made myself a note to investigate this particular tidbit at a later time.
Moving on, I asked him what he thought of the Wizarding World; its traditions, economy, social programs, and education. The young lord was surprisingly knowledgeable on these subjects—but then, you'd expect a Slytherin to look at all his options before making his stance known. Lord Potter has taken a more involved role in his financial estate, although because of his relative inexperience, he has had members of the Gringotts legal department keeping an eye on his family's various investments and businesses. When asked why he was working so closely with the goblins, he said "The goblins as a race view everything as a competition. By linking my profit to that of a team of goblins, I have virtually ensured that my fortunes will only grow-and that those who would take advantage of me financially are dissuaded from such ideas." The young lord also said that such a deal would only go south if "some idiot broke a treaty with the bank and started another Goblin rebellion."
Lord Potter's political views were difficult to discern; the young man said that, while he had little experience with other Lords and Ladies, he was able to get a good feel for their political views by observing their children: "The mask that a politician, whether an elected official like the Minister, a Department Head, or a House Lord, puts on while out in public comes off when they go home. They feel safe in the comfort of their own homes, even if they're not particularly politically active. What they really think of the world comes out for their family to see. One thing I've figured out is that, while kids may not listen to their parents, they do watch them. A politician's child sees how they act at home, and that's how they learn their political values: by watching how their parents act when they think no one's looking."
When asked his opinion on the Ministry and how its running the country, Lord Potter said "Minister Fudge is a man who listens to the public and works to get them what they want. This is the attitude necessary in a peacetime Minister; whether we are in a time of peace or not depends on your point of view. Crime is still rather abundant, and many criminal elements with past ties to You-Know-Who* are still in operation in Diagon Alley. That being said, the current political climate is almost pointless, considering the timing."
"Several families were attacked during the Wizarding Civil War by You-Know-Who's* forces; several such families had only a handful of members left, and most of them toddlers at the time. This removed a large number of people from the Wizengamot, allowing for others to control the Wizarding World's law-making body. By the time my generation joins them, we will make up roughly 40% of the Wizengamot; we will be a force to be reckoned with, and most of us hold a grudge against You-Know-Who* and his followers. When the time comes, the Wizarding World is going to change."
I would point out that the main point of tension between You-Know-Who and the rest of the Wizarding World is the continued tolerance of muggles and muggleborns being a part of our world; that, and the fact that such muggleborns usually try to change our world to be more like the one they grew up in, an idea opposed by the more traditionalist factions. When asked his opinion on this debate, Lord Potter had this to say: "Magic is magic. Muggleborns should be allowed to learn how to control their power before they accidentally reveal it to the world."
"Most of the traditions in the Wizarding World have good reasoning behind them, but because no one tries to explain why something is beyond saying that it's always been that way, muggleborns continually try to modernize our world. There's nothing wrong with that either: muggles have made some useful advances over the past hundred years, and there's several ways we could help each other out. However, most of us aren't comfortable with change that big, and would only accept such a thing if it happened gradually. I understand that sometime during the late 1800s, a wizarding customs and traditions class was taken out of the Hogwarts curriculum; if such a class existed today, I'm sure that a number of misunderstandings could've been nipped in the bud."
"This was really one of the problems with You-Know-Who's* plan: after conquering the Wizarding World, he would attack the muggle world, sure that he would succeed. Muggles have advanced quite far in combat: they've had more significant wars in the past century than we've had in the past five. If the Wizarding world was revealed by You-Know-Who, or someone else who acted hostile towards muggles, I can virtually guarantee you that we would be wiped out. Muggles have grown more tolerant of difference as a whole, but if push comes to shove, they won't mess around."
Moving on, I asked about his experiences at Hogwarts and with the education system. He seemed to approve of the instructors on all accounts, saying that the professors were fair to those who treated their subjects with the appropriate caution; this is likely a defense of Professor Snape, the Potions instructor and Head of Slytherin house at Hogwarts, who many have cited as being short-tempered and overly critical of his students' efforts in an area of study he has mastered.
As our little chat was finishing up, I asked what he intended to do as Lord Potter. He responded with a list of vague economic and political goals—and one rather controversial issue. "I intend to get a trial for Sirius Black." As I think we're all aware, Sirius Black is in Azkaban for betraying the Potters to Voldemort and for the murder of one wizard, Peter Pettigrew, and 13 muggles. While this reporter was unaware if Black received a trial or not, the evidence Lord Potter provided is fairly damning. When asked about this, Potter said "While I would hope that it turns out he's innocent, in the likely event that he's not I want to find out why he betrayed my parents: by all accounts, he and my father were about as close as people could be." He said that he's already put in a request to the Ministry for Black to be given a trial, but it has been denied on the grounds that Black is more cognitively aware than most prisoners of Azkaban and might escape; such a situation would be disastrous should he be guilty.
According to Mr. Potter, one of the more shocking turns is that the Wizengamot sent the Lord of a Most Ancient and Noble House to Azkaban without a trial. "It could easily have been one of them, and they still condemn him. And if they're willing to send someone of his stature to the Dementors without a trial, what will they do with less politically influential figures? Justice must be carried out for everyone, and Sirius Black has been neglected in this regard." Lord Potter went on to say that, should the man be proven guilty, then he would be the first to call for proper punishment. Mr. Potter has once again employed legal assistance into building a case strong enough to get Sirius Black before a court, this time a little-known legal services company, Abbott & Tonks. One of the founders and head barristers in the company is Andromeda Tonks nee Black, who was cast out of her family for marrying those they disapproved of; Mr. Potter insists that having someone who went against the family values that supported the crimes that Mr. Black was imprisoned for would be unwilling to give him a trial unless they were sure he was innocent.
Our meeting done, Lord Potter disappeared into the night. It was time for me to do some research. The issue with Mr. Black was easy to determine: the Ministry has no record of Sirius Black being tried or sentenced for the crimes he is believed to commit. Mrs. Tonks was indeed cast out of the Black family for marrying a muggleborn, Theodore Tonks. Abbott & Tonks is working alongside the Gringotts legal team on Mr. Potter's behalf to keep an eye on his family's estate. Further research into Mr. Potter himself reveals that he was the top in his class last year, receiving close to top marks in all of his classes.
Further revealing Lord Potter's ability, at the end of the last year's term, he was attacked by a number of seventh year students in an abandoned hall. It is understood that Mr. Potter not only held his own for the several minutes it took for anyone to find him, but managed to partially resist the effects of a Cruciatus Curse cast by one of his attackers. Professor Dumbledore arrived in time to witness the resulting blast and clean up the aftermath of Potter's battle. Our readers may remember the sealed trials at the beginning of the summer held for a number of recently graduated children; I suppose we now know what they were for.
My research into Harry Potter's place of residence is a long tale that I won't bore you with; let it suffice to say that, through methods I am unwilling to divulge, I managed to find that Mr. Potter was living with his late mother's muggle relatives. Finding their home, I sought to ask them about his home life. What I discovered was shocking to say the least. Before I continue, I would like to point out, fair readers, that according to most muggleborns and muggle experts, our non-magical counterparts are well past the rhabdophobia that resulted in the need for the Statute of Secrecy; the muggles of today would probably be rather accepting of magic so long as those capable of it didn't come across as hostile. That being said, some muggles still operate under this archaic mentality.
Upon arriving at the home of Harry Potter's relatives, the door was opened by a rather skinny woman with too much neck. The fake smile plastered on her face fell as she saw how I was dressed. When I asked if this was where Harry Potter resided, she responded with, and I quote, "That freak left earlier in the summer, and if he ever spoke a word of truth in his God-forsaken life, he won't be returning...ever! Now get off my property, you witch, before the neighbors see you!" With that, she slammed the door in my face. I returned later, hoping to talk to the hopefully more levelheaded patriarch; it was in vain.
I returned as a large, rumbling metal monstrosity rolled into an area of flat, grey ground next to the house. As it became silent, an impossibly large man seemed to pour out of it; this man's girth seemed to be in competition with his height—and I think it was winning. Upon asking about Mr. Potter's time in his home, the man proceeded to insult both myself and Mr. Potter with such language as "freak", "Godless heathen" "devil worshiper", and "witchy bitch"; the last one was only directed at me, but it still bears mention. I decided to take my leave after he threatened me with a large blunt object he called a "cricket bat".
I would remind my readers that it is illegal to arrest someone, even a muggle, on charges of child abuse without significant proof. Lord Potter could come forward with memories as proof of such abuse, but until that happens, it would be illegal to arrest and try them for such a crime. Furthermore, tracking down muggles with the intent to do harm is also illegal; using any form of magic on muggles without their permission is illegal unless they're being arrested. Hopefully, the one thing these muggles got right is that Harry Potter will not be returning to that house.
The question that plagues me now is, what was Dumbledore thinking, placing him with these people? Unfortunately, it appears that there was no other option: the Potter will, which would have dictated where Harry Potter should go after his parents' death was sealed by the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot the day after their murder—I don't think I need to remind you that the Chief Warlock is Dumbledore. He then awarded himself guardianship of the infant saviour, to keep him from being adopted by those servants of You-Know-Who that escaped the justice system unscathed. At the time, this was a reasonable course of action, but now? I would go so far as to question whether Lord Potter would have been better off growing up with such pureblood families; at least he'd be more knowledgeable of our customs and traditions. Unfortunately, Dumbledore was not available for comment at this time; if possible, I will be having an interview with him at a later time this year. This is Rita Skeeter, signing off.
*: It should be noted that, wherever this symbol appears, it is a sign that Lord Potter used the actual name of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rather than any sort of moniker, with the exception of one occurrence, where he instead said "Tommy Boy". He refused to explain this name, and my research has turned up nothing. Will report more as it is discovered.
By the end of the article, Mrs. Weasley was practically shaking with rage. She turned to him and said in a whispered hiss "How dare you sully Dumbledore's name! The man is the greatest wizard of our time; and after all he's done for you—"
"I wish to point out two things wrong with what you've just said," Hadrian interrupted. "First, he's done more to me than for me: who I am is a result of how I grew up in the house he placed me in. Second, I never said anything against Dumbledore, either in the article, or at the interview it's based on. That's all Rita Skeeter." The look on her face, and that of the Weasley family, showed how shocked she was at being halted mid-rant. The twins and Ginny seemed a little awed, while Ronald was just confused. Percy had a blank look plastered on his face, making it difficult to see what he really felt.
Arthur, had anyone been looking at him, was puzzled. On one hand, he did support Dumbledore: his children were only able to go to Hogwarts because of a few special scholarships offered to them by Albus. His wife was a devout believer in the man's integrity, and Arthur himself had always known Dumbledore to be a kind soul, looking out for and protecting the children (and occasionally the adults) of the Wizarding World. On the other hand...the article wasn't saying Dumbledore did it on purpose, and Harry didn't seem to blame him; he just didn't trust the man as much as Molly did. That wasn't surprising, given Dumbledore's mistake. Besides, Harry was a very polite young man; he'd helped Ginny get over her little crush very quickly and without making her feel bad or embarrassed about it, he got along with the twins and helped keep them in line; even Percy approved of him, and he was usually quick to dismiss those younger than himself.
His wife wouldn't be so easily daunted by some little speech. Shaking her head, as if to throw off the bad feelings she was getting, Mrs. Weasley continued as if he'd said nothing, saying "You will write an apology to the Prophet and its audience retracting these blasphemous statements. Dumbledore sending you to child abusers...Sirius Black innocent...why, next you'll be saying that Lily Potter was a pureblood! These things you've said...it makes it sound like you support You-Know-Who! You're going down a dark path, Harry; please, let me help you." Arthur frowned at this: Harry, dark? Well, perhaps a bit, he admitted, but he wasn't evil, and certainly no You-Know-Who supporter.
"I will not write any such letter: everything I spoke was the truth. Besides, I said neither of those things; Rita didn't even say them, only implied them. I would never side with the man who murdered my parents, and Dark is a rather broad adjective with over-exaggerated, negative connotations." Hadrian paused, staring her down. The look in his eyes was giving her chills, although she'd never admit it. "I would remind you, ma'am, that I am your guest, not your son; as such, you can't tell me what to do. If you'd rather I not be here—if my presence is causing a disturbance—I'll take my leave." He made to get up.
"There's no need for that, Harry," Arthur spoke up, looking nervously between his wife and the young man. "It's just a little misunderstanding; a clash of beliefs. You can stay if you wish." He didn't want to go against her like this so obviously, but this was ridiculous! He didn't like upsetting her, but this time, he just couldn't bring himself to support her.
"I don't wish to cause trouble..." Harry trailed off.
"Nonsense," the twins cried out together. Arthur smiled at his sons supporting their friend.
"You can't leave!" Fred cried, clutching his clone. Their terrified faces as they clung to each other focused his attention on them.
"Yeah!" George said. "If you leave, then who—"
"—will protect us—"
"—from little—"
"—Gin Gin?" the finished in harmony. Their father chuckled; scared of their sister? Smart.
Their mother gave them a scolding look, and they retreated. "Arthur..." she said imploringly. Arthur almost faltered; she seemed so...no, he wouldn't throw Harry out over a small disagreement.
"No, Molly. We're not forcing him out," the Weasley patriarch said firmly. "He can stay if he wants to." Molly's look faltered; she had expected her husband to cave easily like he usually did. Still, she acquiesced: she could fix the situation later.
Ron grumbled at this, as did Molly, but she backed down. As everyone settled down (though Molly kept shooting Harry bad looks), Arthur felt good: he'd made the right decision, even though he knew he'd be paying for it later. Catching Harry's eyes, he saw the young man give him a nod of thanks. Arthur returned it, thankful that Molly had her back turned and didn't see that last little exchange.
—End Flashback—
Needless to say, that was the point where Mrs. Weasley had started going overboard with the potions: some for him, some for Ginny, some for Arthur. Fortunately for them, she'd messed up: about a week after the article had come out, she had attempted to set up the single-target potion again on Harry, but had messed up and accidentally tainted a whole batch of carrot cake with Amortentia with Ginny as the target of the potion's artificial affections. Ronald had been the first one to eat some cake and began professing his undying love for his sister right there at the dinner table, to Molly's and everyone else's horror. This was the point where Arthur began putting his foot down. Unfortunately, no culprit had been discovered, although Ron had been quick to blame Harry as soon as he'd been administered a bit of antidote. Harry had rebuffed these claims by pointing out that he and Ginny had been at Luna's house the entire time the cake was being baked.
While Arthur was not the Lord of the house (House Weasley being matriarchal), he did make it clear that the next time Amortentia was discovered in anyone's food, he'd be calling the Aurors and letting them sort it out. What he hadn't said was who he thought was responsible: he had noticed that Molly seemed happier today than she had since the article; she had offered the first piece to Harry, and the potion had targeted Ginny. Such a strong love potion was too potent to be meant to solve any possible argument between siblings, leading him to believe that whoever was responsible had wanted Ginny to hook up with someone—and his guess was that Harry was the intended recipient. He didn't want to think about who was responsible (although he had suspicions). Really, things had gone Harry's way: it was getting easier and easier to lead Ginny away from her parents' influence. Her father was stable enough, but it was her mother that was screwing up, and a mother is supposed to be a role model for a young woman. He'd already been partially successful, given her blackmail attempt on Ronald: while she had gotten a lot of work out of him, he'd complained every time he was doing her chores, to the point that it almost wasn't worth it to get out of doing them herself. It was a start in the right direction though, as far as Harry was concerned, and he'd take what he could get. The fact that he was sure Arthur didn't quite fully trust his wife anymore would serve him well in future dealings with their family. "Still, enough reminiscing," Harry thought. "Back to the matter at hand."
Deciding to continue his experiment from earlier in the summer, he relaxed for a second or two, slipping into his meditative state. The way he imagined it, his mind was separating from his body, separating from the frail form of flesh and blood that housed his spirit, his soul, his essence. In this form, he could not be harmed: pain became nothing, and everything became painful. Focusing his concentration, he willed the universe to show him the ebb and flow of energy that surrounded him; he willed his physical body to change, his eyes to see what was truly going on in the world.
Opening his eyes, he gave a small smile as the familiar glows of magic greeted him: his ability to see magic was getting sharper, more distinct; colours were more vibrant, or at least more visible. His friends' magic—their flows, their natures, their potential—was as visible as the nose on his face. He could even suss out mental traits by observing their magic, although this ability was limited. He hadn't been using the ability as often as he'd planned, but that didn't matter: only the results mattered.
Hermione's aura was similar to what he'd seen in her mind the previous year when they'd been working on their Occlumency with Draco: the familiar ribbons of colour twisting through their respective owners' mindscapes. Draco was similar to what he'd been, with twists of dark green, blue, and purple winding their way through his brain, although they appeared to be just a shade or two lighter than what he'd seen before..
The twins were an interesting pair, magically speaking. They had over all similar colours covering just about the entire spectrum, indicating slightly over-average capabilities in virtually every aspect of magic, although there was no white or black anywhere in either of their auras. This was nothing new: everyone capable of magic had every colour in their magical aura; the stronger they were in that particular area of magic, the brighter and more intense it would appear. The intensity of the colour, rather than the color itself, showed where their strengths lay. With the practice he'd had over the past month, he'd gotten pretty good at determining where someone's strengths lay.
The twins' talents lay on opposite ends of the spectrum: Fred was a more aggressive person, it seemed, and favoured combat magicks; he certainly had more power than his twin brother, although not much more, and barely more than average. Practical spellcasting was his forte, until it involved more mundane charms and other such things. From this, Harry deduced that he was likely the better shot of the two, having more natural talent for spell duels. His aura indicated a rather high intelligence for someone so focused, but Harry wasn't too surprised, as he knew both of the twins to be ahead of most of their peers, even if their grades indicated otherwise. His pockets contained a small collection of magical gadgets, likely his and George's inventions, the purposes of which seemed focused on messing with someone's perceptions of reality.
George, on the other hand, was definitely a thinker—the brains of the operation, you could say. From potions to charms, enchanting to small transfiguration, he specialized in the more subtle branches of magic. His power levels were below average, but he made up for it by being leaps and bounds more creative than his brother; George's raw intelligence was nearly at the same level as his and Hermione's. In all likelihood, he could have gone to Ravenclaw if he'd wished. Harry had seen it happen: the Patil twins had split like that, and they were likely similar magically to the Weasley twins, at least regarding where their strengths lay. Also, while Fred had a few items on his person that could be used to prank someone or give him an advantage in a fight, George's pockets appeared to contain more toys that should have physically fit into the room, much less into his pockets. Again, these were likely personal inventions, although there were so many, he couldn't even begin to discern their purposes; just looking at him was bringing on a psychedelic migraine.
The only other not of interest was the band of gray that extended out from their auras towards each other, meeting and intertwining in the middle. This confirmed something he'd long suspected about Fred and George: they were soul-linked twins. A rather interesting phenomenon that could occur in either magical or non-magical twins (although magical twins were more likely than non), this ability allowed a person to feel their twin's emotions or even, whether by accident or practice, read the other's mind. This ability likely allowed them a method of communication that couldn't be overheard except by a powerful Master of mind magicks. They could talk, form a single cover story if they got caught...the possibilities were mind-boggling. It also explained how they were so adept at finishing each other's sentences.
Luna was an interesting case in other ways. Her magic to focus more on charms and transfiguration, and she was a bit underpowered compared to the twins, although that might be due more to age than anything else. Her intelligence was...well, the best way to describe it was that the little blonde girl had deep knowledge, like Hermione, but also wide knowledge; wisdom, perhaps. It was a willingness to accept anything, which fit with what Harry knew of her.
The final oddity was a colorless...thing. It appeared to his magically-enhanced sight to be empty space in her aura, an anomaly that he'd never seen before. What's more, it looked like it was taking some sort of vague tubular shape, like a spaghetti noodle or a tentacle or a snake, that seemed to twist and turn, undulating in and out of her aura until he was sure it would tie itself in a knot, before it disappeared beneath the surface of her magic, which for whatever reason, he couldn't seem to see past. His intense staring had not gone unnoticed—or rather, the twins hadn't noticed, on account of being so caught up in the game. Luna was staring right back at him as she continued to play, and the small half-smile adorning her face was a bit unnerving, even for him. With but a thought, his vision returned to normal.
Returning to his book, Harry continued taking down notes of interesting points while the others played on. After several games, the twins begged off: they insisted they had promised to meet a friend (Lee Jordan, they said) and hurried off. Harry suspected they were getting a bit tired of losing, but said nothing as the twin terrors rushed out of the compartment. Luna gave a little half-smile at his questioning glance, and took out a magazine called "The Quibbler". Settling into her seat, she began flipping through, absentmindedly petting Cheshire while she read. There was a knock at the door; it opened before anyone could say "Come in."
In walked Pansy Parkinson, a vile little Slytherin girl in their year who was obsessed with Draco. She turned her nose up at Hermione, but didn't say anything about her; instead, she began whining at Draco in what was probably meant to be a cute manner, pleading with him to come to her compartment with Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Greengrass, and Nott. Draco caught Harry's eye: refusing to go would be disastrous socially and possibly politically, but he couldn't just leave, as it would imply that Harry wasn't considered politically important enough for Draco to beg his pardon, which was essentially what he was doing ; receiving a nod from Harry, he agreed to go with Pansy.
Once they'd left, only Harry, Ginny, Luna, and Hermione were left in the compartment. This continued for several minutes until Harry finished the section of his book he was currently engrossed in. He looked up to find the three females talking in low voices. It suddenly stopped, and they all looked up—right at him. Then they giggled. Getting a bad feeling about this situation, Harry excused himself, intending to visit other friends/possible allies on the train while his female friends talked about...whatever it was they were talking about. He had a funny feeling he didn't want to be present for such a conversation.
Over the next couple of hours, he wandered around the train from compartment to compartment, extending his magical vision to avoid interacting with those who wished him harm. He visited the friends/allies he'd made through Hermione's study group and got sucked into conversations about their summers; Susan Bones' aunt, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was having trouble getting Fudge to approve of increased funding to the Auror Corps, which was why they couldn't keep up with rising crime rates. Her friend, Hannah Abbott, had heard from her father about how the head of an Ancient and Noble House had been thrown into Azkaban without a trial and the evidence suggesting his innocence; that she was a member of the unofficial Hogwarts Rumor Mill (Hufflepuff division) was only a bonus in his opinion.
Most of the Ravenclaws were working on some sort of project, whether for extra credit or for purely intellectual reasons. Su Li was working on an assignment for transfiguration investigating the reasons why gold couldn't be directly transfigured (there was some sort of Law of Magick that supposedly made gold impossible to create through transfiguration or conjuration); Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot were getting a head start on learning Ancient Runes and Arithmancy; Padma Patil was looking into twin bonds and what they could be used for. So far, she knew communication was possible, but wasn't sure if it would be possible if one twin had Occlumency barriers in place; such an experiment, if it could be pulled off, would determine whether twin bonds took place on an intellectual level (taking place in the mind, where such defenses would stop the messages), or if it was a spiritual thing (taking place in the soul, which would be unhindered by Occlumency). When they asked what Harry's project was he told them, and received weird looks, as if they didn't believe he could do it. They wished him good luck and returned to their books.
His conversation with Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had left him with more information than he needed, and almost none of it useful: who was with who, who had broken up with who, who was already in trouble, what certain influential or famous people had been up to during the summer hols; it didn't help that the two seemed to giggle every few sentences...or every time he asked a question...or at other random times for no apparent reason. Anyway, while virtually none of the information was useful in and of itself, what it did tell him was that the two Gryffindor girls had a knack for gossip; they had a way of getting people to share otherwise semi-confidential information with them. It showed both a social skill that few people possessed and a possible talent in intelligence gathering: the two would be excellent sources of non-academic knowledge.
Making a mental note of this for the future, Harry changed the subject, asking Parvati if she'd been assisting her sister in her experiment; she affirmed this for him. She had actually been "Pad's" only "test subject" so far; she told of a few tests they'd run, including seeing if certain mentally-based charms worked through such a bond, such as the Cheering Charm. This had turned out to be a dead end, which explained why Padma hadn't mentioned it: she didn't want to discuss the failed experiments in front of her housemates. Incidentally, it also confirmed for Hadrian that magic could be used in a magical household with a wand without the Trace detecting it, one of his suspicions when he'd discovered it didn't track wandless magic.
Leaving the giggling Gryffs, he wandered around the train, eavesdropping on various conversations being held by older students. He was quiet and subtle enough about it that he was able to learn some interesting information: supposedly, some second-year Ravenclaw had humiliated a Ravenclaw prefect at the end of the previous year and was now on some sort of power trip. Recalling the prefect in question, one muggleborn Eloise Midgen, he remembered the girl being covered in acne at closing feast last year. If he wasn't mistaken, she was a muggleborn, leading him to believe this was likely some sort of blood purity-based conflict.
This didn't sound too good for him, since it would be hard to make friends and allies in the house of intelligence if they were afraid of being punished like that by a few snooty kids. He would be more than capable of dealing with them when the time came, of course, but for now there was no reason to do anything: if he allowed them to continue, it would build up desperation in the younger Ravens, making them much more open to manipulation if he swooped in to save the day. He got a feeling like he was forgetting something, but he shrugged it off.
Continuing his circuit of the train, he eventually reached the front, where the prefects were meeting. Turning around, he made his way back to the other end of the train. Suddenly, he ran into a mousy little boy who appeared to be on the verge of wetting himself. The boy in question had a mop of blonde hair on his head and bright blue eyes full of innocence and childlike naivety. The boy began babbling: Hadrian caught the words "Harry Potter", "muggleborn", and "photo". Seeing the old-timey camera around the boy's neck, he gathered that he wanted a picture. "Sure," he said, cutting off the boy mid sentence. The boy didn't seem put off at all by the slightly rude response and quickly snapped a picture, tossing a thank you over his shoulder as he ran down the train, quickly disappearing from view. Shaking his head, Harry continued his walk.
As he made his way back to his compartment, he felt the train begin to slow down. Had they already arrived? Thinking back, he realized just how long some of his conversations had taken, and just how long he'd read his book back in the compartment. Arriving at his compartment, he found the girls already changed into their robes. Luckily, he'd changed into his own robes in the bathroom before shadow-traveling onto the train, so he didn't have to ask them to leave while he changed. That meant there was plenty of time to talk: trains didn't slow down very quickly because of how they were constructed as well as for safety purposes, so they still had a few minutes.
After a few minutes of idle chatter, they had pulled into the station. Wishing Luna and Ginny good luck as they all exited the train, Harry and Hermione made their way off of the platform and over to the carriages that brought the second years and up to the school. As they walked away, Harry noticed that Cheshire was still riding the blonde girl's shoulders. Smiling at the sight, he ignored that it was so strange that Cheshire was behaving for someone else. As they walked towards the carriages, Hermione said "I think this year is going to be interesting for us." Harry looked over at her, a little surprised by the statement, to see her staring up at the castle contemplatively. Seeing his glance, she hastened to explain herself: "Well, first of all, we have Gilderoy Lockhart teaching us. With his experience in using Defense Magick in the real world, we might learn something genuinely useful," she exclaimed. As an afterthought, she added, "Well, more useful than usual."
"I'll admit, the man's reputation is amazing," Harry said. "Mind you, there's something about him that...worries me. I'm not sure what it is, but I don't trust him."
"It could be that you're feeling a bit of his aura leaking out: with what he's done, he probably very powerful. Dumbledore's aura flares at times, and it makes him downright scary! The same thing happens with you." Harry nodded; he'd felt Dumbledore's aura at times, and it was a bit overwhelming being so close to so much power. It still felt different from Lockhart, but he didn't mention it; the difference was probably more due to the difference between the two men than anything truly sinister. "That reminds me of the other reason this year is interesting," Hermione continued. "With you going against Dumbledore's judgement on the Sirius Black matter, the two of you are going to be dancing around one another in a race to see how much political support you can get. Hopefully, it won't get dangerous, but if you push him too far..." she trailed off. "Well, we've already seen some of what he's willing to do to get you under his control; how much further would he go?"
Harry nodded, well aware that this year was going to be interesting. In his mind, he thought about what the "terror's old" could be. "It'll all work out; don't worry about that, 'Mione."
She glanced at him, amusement dancing across her face. "Were you just being optimistic? Someone call the Prophet!" she finished with a tone dripping in sarcasm.
He chuckled. "I suppose it does seem a little odd. It's not optimism, though; I'm simply confident in my abilities."
His female friend frowned in concern. "Don't underestimate him, Harry. He's dangerous and powerful. I don't want to see you get hurt."
"If it's any consolation," Harry said "I think he's starting to think of me less as a student and more as someone with actual importance in the world: he wasn't treating me like a child at the party; he was acting as if he understood the kind of power I'm coming into. But let's not talk of such depressing things: have your parents warmed up to me since he party?"
Hermione gave a small smile at this. "Actually, they have. They aren't too happy about it, but they are willing to accept that you might be worthy of my friendship."
"I wasn't aware that was something that was up to them," Harry said offhandedly.
"Yes, well, just keep your nose clean this year, and we'll be able to see each other over the summer," Hermione said.
Harry nearly snorted at this; instead, he just said "I think this year is going to be even more interesting than the last one." He didn't explain this comment, and Hermione didn't ask him to. They walked to the carriages in the comfortable silence that only good friends can have.
As Harry and Hermione approached the carriages, he noticed that, despite what the twins had said over the summer when he'd asked, they did have something pulling them. From their skeletal appearance and the fact that most people weren't freaking out at the sight of the bony, bat-winged horses, Harry concluded that these were threstrals: generally they were considered omens of death and bad fortune because of their frightening appearance and the fact that only those who had seen death could see them. Boarding the nearest carriage, which had room for six, he boarded the carriage after helping Hermione up the steps like a gentleman should. They were soon joined by Draco and his three shadows: Crabbe, Goyle, and sadly, Pansy Parkinson.
Hadrian's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at the sight of the pureblood princess: the girl was one of the most vocal within Slytherin house when it came to the subject of blood purity, at least among the younger few years. She was usually quite uncomfortable around him; half-blood though he may be, he was Lord Potter, and with the Parkinsons being a patriarchal family, she'd never even be in the same ballpark of political power as he was. This fear of reprisal didn't extend so far as to put up with muggleborns in the Slytherin common room without expressing her disapproval, and she had made her opinion of Hermione clear from their first meeting.
Sure enough, the girl's expression grew tighter at the sight of his female friend. Turning to Draco, she simpered "Do we have to sit here, Drakey poo? I know an alliance with him would be great, but sitting with...her..." she cast a withering glance in Hermione's direction, who rolled her eyes at the girl's behavior. "It's beneath you," Pansy finished with a coo, hanging off Draco's arm.
He dislodged her. "I'll sit with Harry if I choose; I will be talking with him about this later. For now, if you can't play nice, please find another carriage. Making such a fuss should be beneath you as well."
Harumphing, Pansy left the carriage, as did Crabbe and Goyle, though the two did so reluctantly. At Hermione's questioning look, Draco sighed and quickly glanced out to make sure they were gone. Not seeing them, he said "Crabbe and Goyle have been assigned as my bodyguards for the rest of my Hogwarts career...or at least for this year. My father is concerned that you're influencing me, Hadrian."
"I imagine that at least one or two people in Slytherin sent him letters expressing their concern over your actions last year," Harry replied casually. "It wouldn't surprise me if Pansy was one of them," he added.
Draco's expression darkened. "That thought had occurred to me, as well. That girl is...she's just..." he trailed off, muttering under his breath.
"Awwww," Hermione cooed. "Is Drakey-poo in love?" Draco paled, a look of disgust crossing his face. Harry smirked, both because it was funny, and because Hermione was loosening up enough to joke around.
"No! I'm not in love with Pansy Parkinson!" Draco hissed at the brunette bookworm, as she grinned. "Her parents and my father have been setting us up to get married for years. There hasn't been a contract, but she's convinced that we're destined to be together; we'll be the king and queen of Slytherin in years to come, spreading the good word of the Dark Lord to all those who deserve to serve him." The Malfoy scion's speech was dripping with sarcasm.
"Unfortunately," he said, a serious tone replacing his sarcasm, "Her letter, if she did send one, got my father genuinely concerned for me; perhaps it was something else, and she wasn't involved, but the result is the same. He's had several talks with me this summer, and seemed generally disappointed. I imagine that one of the reasons he's gotten those two lumps to stick to me like glue this year is to make sure I'm not left alone with you two. Pansy is extra insurance, but I imagine she volunteered: my father wouldn't go so far as to demand it of her father, but Pansy herself is quite malleable to manipulation."
"If that's the case, you'll have to be careful," Harry said, his mind going through possible ways to take advantage of this development.
"Very careful," Draco agreed. He paused, a worried look crossing his face. "I may have to...put on an act for them at several points this year. You understand, right?" he said, directing his question to Hermione.
"Of course," she replied. Suddenly, the carriage came to a stop: they had arrived. Disembarking, the three of them split up: the Opening Feast was one of the few feasts where students had to sit with their own houses. As Hermione left to go walk with the rest of the Gryffindors to the Great Hall, Harry and Draco were joined by Pansy and the wonder twins. Pansy began babbling about how thankful she was that Granger wasn't accompanying them and about how her summer had gone; where her family had gone, who they'd made alliances with, how many house elves she'd kicked, and so on. Draco seemed to be practicing the age-old conversation tactics of men: nodding, saying "Yeah" or "Uh huh" every once in awhile, and anything else that would make it seem like he was listening to the girl—who acted as if they were married—blather on about virtually nothing important.
Harry listened with one ear, since every other sentence helped him better understand how to manipulate the opinionated girl; he preferred to spend most of his concentration using his mage sight to observe his fellow first years. As before, he was mostly using it as a glimpse into their mental state: their strengths and weaknesses. It was still touch and go for the most part, but the practice was helping, especially since he already knew the personality traits of a number of them. Most of his observations garnered no new information: his fellow students, even a good number of the Slytherins, wore their hearts on their sleeves, their personalities and mental state on display for the world. Their magical talents were obvious from their classwork, and the only real surprise was that one of the Gryffindors, Dean Thomas, seemed to exhibit signs of being creative or imaginative.
Harry theorized to himself that this mage sight ability he taught himself was similar to Legilimency, or at least involved similar ideas. However, he needed to leave such experimentation for later until he mastered Occlumency well enough to go poking around in someone's mind without losing himself in the process.
They finally arrived in the Great Hall. As they students in green made their way over to their housemates, Pansy dragged off Draco towards the far end of the table, where a number of the more vocal blood purists usually sat. Harry, spotting a couple of empty seats next to a friendly face, made his way over the that section of the table. "Marcus," Hadrian said in greeting as he took his seat. The older Slytherin was captain of the Quidditch team, a prefect, and one of the few in the upper years that considered Harry an asset rather than a threat.
"Hadrian," Flint responded, his eyes sweeping the hall. "You still up to playing this year?"
"Perhaps," Harry said. Noticing the older boy's gaze, he asked "What are you looking for?"
Flint took a last glance around the Hall, before turning to Harry. "I'm looking to see who's gone, whether they graduated or dropped out. Some people owed others favors, while some were acting as protectors; now that they're gone, those favors can be manipulated into services, while those that have previously been protected by 7th years can now rejoin the list of targets."
Hadrian nodded. He'd noticed a few people gone that would be more beneficial to his cause: some of the upper year Gryffs had made his life difficult the previous year at what they perceived as his "betrayal" of becoming a snake instead of a lion., as well as snatching away their victory in the Quidditch Cup. The seventh years were now gone, moved on from Hogwarts school politics, while the sixth years, who were now seventh years, were more focused on their N.E.W.T.s than the previous years, making it difficult for them to continue their little grudge match. Those Gryffs who were fifth years last year had been too busy working on their O.W.L.s to care too much, with the exception of one Oliver Wood, who was the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and was rumored to be quite fanatical where the sport was concerned.
The Hufflepuffs were neutral towards him; they knew him to be a friendly person usually, and his acquaintances and shaky friendships within the house of badgers had earned him some respect. He was thankful that Hermione had started the study group, otherwise it would have taken some interesting manipulation of events to make friends of the loyal badgers.
The Ravenclaws couldn't have cared less which house he was in; paradoxically, the only reason they respected him was the same reason it was harder to make friends from his year in the house: the top ten only had ten spots, and he was taking up one of them. Sure, nearly half the first year ravens were in the top ten for their year, and took up four or five slots, but those that weren't in the top ten were a bit upset at the fact that there was only one Ravenclaw in the top three-and that they were third! Still, those who were in the top ten already, or outside of his own year, respected his academic achievements and were friendly enough, so long as he wasn't interrupting their studying or projects.
His placing within Slytherin was quite high, considering his age, but when you considered his Lordship and the duel he'd had with Higgs the previous year, it wasn't too surprising. Still, he had to be careful: forming alliances with those older than him would become vital if he wanted to maintain or improve his position. This made being on the Quidditch team necessary: so long as he was Seeker, their success in the Quidditch Cup was essentially riding on his shoulders. When you considered that the only decent competition was the fifth year 'Puff, Cedric Diggory, he was sure he could win them the Cup, so long as Flint and the other Chasers could score a significant number of goals over the course of their three matches.
A conversation with some of the third year Slytherins ate away at his time; there was an heir and two scions in the year above him in his house, and he found them easy to talk into supporting him; only one of the scions was a strongly devoted pureblood—and even he had been convinced, after some time. That was where his advantage lay: those only a few years above him weren't as set into the mentality that they needed to oppose him on principle for destroying Voldemort as the upper years were, and those same upper years would be changing their tunes before too long, if he had his say. Soon enough, Professor McGonagall left the hall, returning shortly with a group of soon-to-be first years trailing behind her, looking quite soaked. He was surprised that the rain had picked up so quickly; he caught Ginny's eye and gave her a slightly apologetic smile. She glared, but only with her eyes, as her mouth was busy smiling, as if she had no problem with how things were going.
The sorting began after the hat sang a song vaguely reminiscent of his own years. The same ideas were stated: the qualities of the four houses and a vague plea for unity that everyone was sure to ignore. Professor McGonagall unrolled her scroll and began summoning the bedraggled first years to the stool so that the next seven years of their lives could begin. One of the first names called out was "Creevey, Colin!" A tiny blonde boy hopped out of line and sprinted excitedly towards the stool; Harry stifled a small groan as he saw the camera hanging around his neck; he realized that the boy was the fan that ambushed him on the train. He jammed the hat on his head quickly, and within seconds was off to join the lions, who roared their approval. Harry wasn't surprised at all by this: the kid didn't have a mischievous bone in his body.
More names were called out, one after another. ""Grout, Lance!", a dark-haired muggleborn, went to Hufflepuff, while "Henderson, Guy!", the half-blood Scion Henderson, went into Ravenclaw. Several names that had passed by, like "Hopkirk, Christopher!" or "Addams, Pubert" belonged to those who were related to, but not set to be, their head of house. Harry made note of these names as well, since they would have some form of influence over their future head of their house. Not for the first time, he marveled at how lucky he was to grow up in this time; many House heads had been killed during the war, leaving the title to politically untrained children. Some would be hard to manipulate, and of course he had competition in the form of more experienced aristocrats, but he was already building a good power base.
"Lovegood, Luna!" called the elderly Transfiguration Master. Luna skipped towards the hat, ignoring the chuckles and whispers of "blonde bimbo" or "airhead" as she passed. Harry frowned at these: eccentric though she may be, Luna was plenty smart, and was likely to end up in Ravenclaw—the same house most of the whispers were coming from. He decided he'd keep an eye on the situation, and hope he could see trouble coming and deflect it from his newest friend. As she put on the hat, she began humming again, this time a tune he recognized as "Mordred's Lullaby". After several seconds, the hat shouted "Ravenclaw!" and off she went. Harry noticed one of her housemates start a conversation with her, only to be put off by the reply. She'd probably mentioned one of her creatures and the other Raven didn't believe her. Oh well.
The sorting continued, with no one of importance going anywhere unexpected until finally, McGonagall called out "Weasley, Ginevra!". As the only person left to be sorted, all eyes were on Ginny as she made her way up to the stool. She gave one last glance at Harry, who smiled reassuringly at her, before the hat descended, covering her eyes. The Sorting Hat was silent for some minute and thirty seconds, longer than most any other sorting they'd seen either this year or the previous year. Eventually, the rip near the brim opened wide and yelled out "Slytherin!"
A hush covered the Great Hall: a Weasley in Slytherin? Ginny, true to form, made her way to the Slytherin table amid the silence. Several Slytherins burst into applause, including Harry, but they were virtually the only ones to do so: everyone else was still recovering from the shock. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that this would continue for a week or two; that's how long it took for him after his own sorting. She walked over, and he patted the seat next to him, saved just for her. She flashed him a grateful smile, before taking her seat. This gesture, as if he'd expected this, was not lost on the other Slytherins; some who had been thinking of violently objecting to her presence in her house were now less inclined to do so, having no interest in taking up the position so recently belonging to Higgs at the bottom of the Slytherin food chain. So they watched on, planning and plotting, while Harry's inner self descended into slightly maniacal laughter.
Dumbledore stood up. He cried out "Another excellent sorting! To all of our new students, welcome! And to all our old ones, welcome back! Now, before we begin the feast, I have a few announcements: first, please give a warm welcome to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Gilderoy Lockhart!" This announcement received large amounts of applause, mostly from the female population, Harry noticed. The man stood and gave a sweeping bow, smiling broadly in response to his adoring fans. "Yes, yes," Dumbledore said, "Let us hope Professor Lockhart remains among us for many years to come. As usual, there have been several additions made to the list of banned items here at Hogwarts, most of them being recently created Zonko's products. For a full list, see Mr. Filch's office door. As a warning to the first years, and the more adventurous upper years, for that matter, I would remind you that the Forbidden Forest is just that: forbidden. But I've kept you from your meal long enough: dig in!"
The meal passed in a blur, with Harry and Ginny mostly talking amongst themselves. This wasn't for lack of interest in their housemates: most of the Slytherins didn't feel she belonged, but weren't willing to say so; instead, they were refusing to talk to her, since she was clearly beneath them. Harry noticed this, but as it coincided with his plans, he allowed it to continue. He'd taken the girl under his wing, but he still had his own agenda. She'd even asked about it; his half-truth answer had been satisfactory at the time, and she hadn't asked again. As he was talking with a few of his other friends within the house (well, allies, really), he noticed Filch had entered the Hall and was whispering something to Professor Snape. The man's fury wasn't obvious from his facial expressions unless you knew what to look for. He stood abruptly and left the hall with Filch following closely.
Harry leaned over to Ginny, who was busying herself talking to a couple of Ravenclaws, and said "I think your brother's just arrived at Hogwarts." She looked at him confusedly before realizing what he meant and giving a small sigh of exasperation. Ronald had become increasingly impossible to live with ever since the blackmail in Flourish and Blotts; he was sure that Harry had lured Ginny completely over to the dark side. His overly protective act had all but disappeared, replaced only by scorn and hate. This was just one more mark against him in Hadrian's book: the boy was quick to abandon his little sister to the darkness, because doing otherwise would result in him having to put a little effort into fixing the things he currently only whined about. It was something Harry couldn't stand, especially when such a lazy attitude was directed at the boy's own flesh and blood. Sure enough, after several minutes, Professor Snape was dragging in the youngest Weasley boy by his ear; he flung the gangly ginger in the direction of the staff table and spoke to McGonagall in low tones. After a short conversation, during which the elderly witch's expression grew sterner by the second, the three of them left, with Ronald looking very forlorn.
Soon enough, the feast was over; after a few announcements by the Headmaster, and a performance of the school song, all the students headed off to bed. Ginny joined the other first years in following the prefects back to the common room. Rather than take the same path everyone else had, Harry took a few shortcuts shown to him by the Marauder's Map. Not for the first time, he was thinking of how little he'd investigated his parents' lives before his birth. For now, though, there was nothing to be done about that. Arriving at the common room, he realized he didn't know the password. He hissed a low oath directed at the skeleton that served as their house's guardian before turning to go find a prefect. Suddenly, off to his left, he heard "Enter, speaker." He whirled, but saw only the snakeskins decorating an unused classroom that served as a decoy common room that trapped those foolish enough to try and gain entry through less than honest means, such as certain Gryffindors. He walked over, and opened the door.
To his surprise, inside was the actual common room, rather than the decoy. Making his way in cautiously, he turned to leave, only to find that the door leading out now seemed to lead to the usual location once more. "Strange," he announced to the empty room before making off for bed. As he made his way to his room, he realized that the strange entrance wasn't even on the map. Had his father been unable to find the hidden entrance, or was this all an illusion of some sort. He didn't think the decoy worked like that, but wasn't too sure. Regardless, if he was trapped here, he may as well get some sleep, he decided. After just a few minutes of tossing and turning, he was sound asleep, awaiting his first day of second year classes.
A.N.: So that's it for now. It felt like 14k of filler to me, so maybe it's not so good. Please leave a review on your way out. Sorry if the chapter seems dull.