Invisible
Chapter 5
Going To Hogwarts: Year One
Indeed, the next morning saw Nick shouting for help and his mother answering his call as though snakes were on her tail. Breakfast was somewhat rushed, and everyone was thankful all they had to do with Roxy was get her dressed and fed—making sure Nick was packed was quite enough, as he hadn't bothered to do it the night before. No one even noticed they were missing Harry, even though Harry was the only one who had actually gotten ready to go the previous night.
"Come on, let's go!" yelled James a while later.
"Coming!" replied the two children at top volume.
Lily, James, and Roxy were all going to see Nick off on the Hogwarts Express; they were going to miss their son/brother very much.
Harry, very much used to the vast amounts of noise his siblings and father made, had grown used to sleeping through it. He'd have never gotten any sleep at all in that house if he hadn't taught himself how to sleep deeply, and the amount of noise wasn't at all strange to his still-sleeping mind. As such, his sleeping mind took it as 'normal', and 'normal' for him meant he wasn't involved, so he easily slept through the trampling noise as his brother and sister stomped down the stairs. Nick got his mother's help with his trunk and they were gone before they knew it.
"James, I think we're missing something or someone," commented Lily as they got the trolley loaded with Nick's things. The box was filled to the brim with toys and other things, five pairs of trainers, two pairs of school shoes, and lots of clothes. Then, of course, there were his books and school supplies he needed for the year.
"Don't worry, Love, everyone is here," said James soothingly to his wife.
"Can I please go this year!?" screeched Roxy suddenly as they neared the barrier.
"No. Your turn will come, Roxy," said Lily, not wanting her daughter to cry, especially not in public.
"Okay," pouted Roxy, who was now six years old.
"All right, Son, go on through the barrier," said James, smirking proudly at his son and the supposedly blank brick dividing wall in front of them.
"Okay, Dad," agreed Nick, standing up straight and proud before speeding off and disappearing through the barrier.
"Roxy, you're next," said Lily, looking proud. Roxy headed through the barrier eagerly.
When Lily and James appeared through the barrier a few moments later, Roxy suddenly yelled in something like shock, "Mum, DAD! You forgot HARRY!"
"Oh, no, we forgot Harry," said Lily, looking shocked and a little peeved.
"Don't worry, I'll get him and just take him straight to Hogwarts. I'm not missing Nick's first departure on the Hogwarts Express," answered James.
"Okay," smiled Lily, kissing James and calming down as if she hadn't just left her son at home—alone.
Harry woke up feeling better than he had the night before...until he heard silence in the home. He suddenly became worried; the house was never silent unless they ('they' meaning James, Nick, and Roxy, as Lily was generally fairly quiet, anyway) were all out, which was more often than not. Normally, the silence wouldn't bother him, as he was used to being left behind, but he hadn't forgotten that today was September first, the day he and Nick were to start at Hogwarts. Going down the stairs and looking into the rooms as he went, he quickly found there was no one at home.
Desperately thinking his family was hiding and waiting for him to regret falling asleep, he yelled, "MUM? DAD? NICK?"
They had left him alone before, but never like this. He wanted to go to Hogwarts, but what if they weren't letting him go? Berating himself for staying asleep, he got his trunk down the stairs with difficulty, hoping one of his family members would come back for him. He was thinking the whole time, 'How could my family have forgotten me? They left me home alone on the first day of Hogwarts!'
James quickly Apparated home with the intent to yell for his other son, but before he could yell, the man found Harry in the living area, sitting on his trunk. Growling at the trouble Harry had caused—in James' view, he always did one thing or another to annoy him—he shrunk the boy's trunk and asked, "Why didn't you come down?" He shook his head in disappointment. Instead of enjoying watching the scarlet train travel out of sight, as soon as it left the station, he'd had to Apparate back home to find his other son.
"I was asleep," said Harry truthfully.
"And I'm the Minister of Magic," mumbled James disgustedly under his breath, but Harry heard it anyway.
'He doesn't believe me?' thought Harry. His own father had practically accused him of lying! Sagging, he wondered again if his family would ever really love him. He already knew the answer to that, but he didn't like admitting it even to himself sometimes. He was, after all, only eleven years old.
"Let's go," said James. Grabbing his son, he pulled him close and they were Apparating before Harry knew it.
When they arrived at their destination, it turned out to be Hogwarts' front gate. Harry's favorite book was Hogwarts: A History, so he knew where he was right away. "Why are we at Hogwarts? Couldn't I have taken the train with the others?" asked Harry quietly and softly.
"No, you missed it. I can hardly Apparate you onto the train," said James, tapping the gates with his wand so one side opened and allowed the two admittance so they could follow the carriage path up to the front doors of the school proper.
James knew the castle's magic would have sent a notice something like a magical doorbell to Albus to alert him to the visitors, so figured at the current pace he had to walk at with Harry, the Headmaster would be at the front doors by the time they had crossed the grounds. It made his life easier, as he'd be able to leave Harry with the old man and get back to Lily and Roxy sooner, rather than waiting around with his troublesome son.
Sure enough, as they got to the front doors, they found them open, so walked in to the large entrance hall. At the foot of the stairs leading to the Great Hall and all other parts of the castle, Albus was waiting, smiling and twinkling at them. "To what do I owe this visit, James?" the old wizard asked, eyes on Harry curiously.
"Hello, Albus. Sorry about this, but he missed the train. Can he stay here until the train comes?" asked James as Harry followed him into the entrance hall.
"Ah! Not a problem. Though, who is 'he'?" asking Albus curiously, wondering if the boy was a Potter relative he hadn't known about before.
"It's Harry Potter," said James with a smile.
"Ah. I must say, he looks nothing like his twin," smiled Albus, his eyes twinkling merrily. Although, he was confused why James was saying 'he' instead of 'his son'—the twins should have been raised together.
"Yes, he seems to have missed the Potter looks," said James, looking somewhat disappointed.
"It does suit him, though," said Albus, looking at the boy's long hair.
"Yes, it does," agreed James, even as he thought, 'Thank Merlin he looks nothing like Nick.'
"It's fine. Why don't you sit down here, Harry, and have some lunch—which is about to be served?" requested the elderly wizard as he led Harry and James into the Great Hall and made him sit at the end of one of the long House tables. Harry didn't know it at the time, but the table he had been made to sit at was the Ravenclaw table. Albus went on talking as he sat carefully at the literal end of the table in a transfigured, comfortable-looking chair. "The professors will be here soon. And it's fine, James, why don't you go do what you have to do?" offered Albus merrily, as always.
"Thanks, Albus," said James as he left.
"So, Harry, are you looking forward to starting at Hogwarts?" asked the Headmaster as the food appeared.
"I'm looking forward to it very much, Sir," said Harry respectfully, surprised that someone was actually paying attention to him and asking him about things. It didn't happen very often. He had read up on Albus Dumbledore; the man was very talented and very powerful. He had done a great deal of good things for the wizarding world, so he had to wonder why such an important man was even talking with him.
"That's good. I will have someone show you around if you like," offered Dumbledore. "At least that way, one of us will know our way around Hogwarts on the first day of school," he finished with a cheerful smile.
"It shouldn't be too hard, Sir. I've read Hogwarts: A History—it's great and it helps you out," said Harry with a small smile.
"You read that, too, did you? I read it not that long ago," said the Headmaster agreeably.
"Yes, Sir, I did," agreed Harry.
"Ah, lemon tart cakes! I just love them! Would you like one, Harry?" asked the Headmaster, suddenly changing the topic.
"I would love a strawberry tart please," requested Harry almost shyly.
"Oh, you love strawberry better than lemon, do you? I love lemon, especially lemon drops or sherbet lemon—both Muggle candies which are very good, if you don't mind my saying so," prattled Dumbledore.
"Who is that and what are you doing all the way down here?" asked Severus as he joined them at the foot of the House table.
"Ah, Severus! This is Harry, and Harry, this is Professor Snape. He's our—" began the Headmaster, but he didn't get a chance to finish his introduction.
"The Potions Professor, I know, Sir. I read about it," said Harry.
"Are you any good at Potions?" asked Severus bluntly, looking at Harry curiously. As the boy had no resemblance to his family, he had no idea he was talking to a Potter.
"I'm not sure about actually making them, Professor, but I'm very good at theory," replied Harry.
"Filius!" called Albus, as the Professor in question had just gotten there.
"Hello Albus, Severus! And who is this? Is there any lunch for me?" asked the tiny Professor cheerfully, banishing his luggage to his rooms.
"Of course there is, and this is Harry," said Albus.
"I see. It's very nice to meet you, Harry. My name is Professor Filius Flitwick, the Charms Professor," said Flitwick, still as cheerful as you please.
"Nice to meet you, Sir," said Harry shyly. He had never met so many new people this fast before.
"Severus, Poppy wants to talk to you," said the Headmaster, turning to Severus when he saw Severus had finished his lunch, knowing the younger man would leave immediately as soon as he told him. Severus was far to skinny for his liking, so Albus didn't want him to go without finishing his lunch.
Sure enough...
"I will go see her immediately," said Severus, rising.
"Very well," said the Headmaster, eating yet another lemon tart, his eyes twinkling brightly at the young man he thought of as a son. So much had changed in ten years.
"Bye Mum, Bye Dad! Bye Roxy!" said Nick, waving as the Hogwarts Express left the station.
Nick sat down in an empty compartment, as he knew people would be looking for him, and couldn't wait to be surrounded by people. Everyone would love him.
Smiling as the door opened, he saw it was Ronald Weasley. "Hey Ron!" beamed Nick.
"Hey Nick! I'm so glad I'm off to Hogwarts!" grinned Ron happily.
"You have a dirty smudge on your nose. Did you Floo here?" asked Nick casually.
"Er, no," said Ron, trying to get the 'smudge' Nick was talking about off as he didn't want to be embarrassed any longer. Perhaps he should have let his mum remove the dirty mark, but he had been too excited.
Suddenly, the door opened again, and a blond haired boy stood there with two stupid-looking goons at his sides. "They're saying that Nick Potter is in this compartment. It must be you. Come with me and I will help you find the right sort of people," said the blond boy, looking right at Nick and ignoring Ron entirely.
"Sure. What's your name?" asked Nick, liking the sound of the boy and the way he was dressed.
"Name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," said Draco, smirking and putting his hand out.
"As in the Death Eater's kid? I'm sorry, I don't associate myself with Death Eaters," replied Nick, shuddering. His reputation would be dragged through the mud.
"Very well then, you can hang around with riff-raff all day if you like," sneered Draco, looking at Ron in disgust. Didn't the Weasley hovel have a bath? He looked dirty.
"I would rather he than you," said Nick defensively.
"You will regret that, Potter," scowled Draco as he walked out, not bothering to shut the door.
"Sorry about that," apologized Nick, though not very sincerely.
"It's fine," said Ron.
"Have any of you seen a toad?" asked a bushy haired girl as she came into the compartment.
"No, I haven't. I'm sorry I could not be of help," said Nick with a—falsely—polite, charming smile.
"It's okay. Oh, and by the way, you have a dirty face. You could have at least washed," said the girl to Ron as she pointed at her nose before leaving, letting the compartment door slide closed behind her.
"Excuse me," said Ron, leaving the compartment. That was the third person to comment on it, so he was going to the bathroom right away to get rid of it.
He came back in ten minutes, his face red from the scrubbing Nick presumed he had been doing. His face was now clean, as were his hands, so he looked much better. When Ron came to his place, he was always clean, so Nick wondered why he was dirty today.
"So, do you think we'll win the Quidditch cup this year?" asked Nick.
They both knew they would end up in Gryffindor, so without further ado they began talking in more detail about Quidditch. In fact, they spent the entire train ride talking about their favorite teams. Finally, at the Hogsmeade station, they got their school uniforms on, creating a sad disparity; Nick's clothes were brand new and crisp, making Ron's look about ten times second hand. There were a couple things Ron envied about his best friend: his money and his fame. It didn't stop him being friends with him, though. After all, what better way to get recognized?
"Over 'ere firs' years! Over 'ere!" yelled Hagrid, a lamp in his huge, beefy hands. "C'mon. Don' be shy, now. Tha's it, come on, this way!" Once the man was sure he had all the first years, he lumbered away.
"A' righ', no more 'n' four te a boat, now! Go on," said Hagrid, ushering them onto the boats. Hagrid had one to himself, and Nick got onto one he only let Ron on, since he was not being squashed for anyone. Plus, he deserved the extra room—he was Nick Potter, after all.
They all gasped when they got their first look at the ancient castle, and even Nick couldn't help but gasp. The place was truly amazing, as his parents had described it to be in his bedtime stories.
They got off the boats shivering, since by then, night had settled in and it was getting chilly. Not long after, they had left the boathouse and climbed the stairs to a large door. Hagrid raised his big, beefy hand and banged on the door, where a Professor ushered them in and Hagrid said, "'Ere 're th' firs' years, P'rfesser."
"Thank you, Hagrid," said McGonagall to him, then faced the first years. "Follow me," ordered the woman. Her hair was in a tight bun and she had a no-nonsense voice and matching look around her.
She led them to the entrance hall and stopped them again just before the entrance to the Great Hall's main doors. It was there where Harry quietly joined the back of the group, coming from a small antechamber he'd been led to shortly before the boats had pulled up at the boat house, as the Headmaster had told him to do. He didn't want to make an entrance or he would just be accused of being jealous of his brother again, so he followed the directions and no one even noticed him.
"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. My name is Professor McGonagall. The beginning of the year feast is about to begin, but before you can help yourself to the delicious food, you will need to be Sorted into your Houses. The Houses are Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. It will be your home for the next seven years, and it will become almost like your family. Good behavior will gain you points with your House, while rule-breaking will cause you to lose points. I will return shortly, so make yourselves presentable," said McGonagall.
She entered the Great Hall for about five minutes, then came back out and announced, "They're ready for you now. Move along, the Sorting will start momentary."
A silence came over the Hall as the first years were lead up to the front of the Hall, where there sat an old, ratty hat on a stool.
Everyone watched as the hat twitched, then began to sing. Harry looked at it as if it had grown legs and could now walk. A hat which sung—that would give him a laugh when he needed one. He always needed a good laugh with the life he had been dealt. Then again, hadn't the singing Sorting Hat been mentioned in Hogwarts: A History?
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
"You can keep your bowlers black,
your top hats sleek and tall,
for I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
and I can cap them all.
"There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
so try me on and I will tell you
where you ought to be.
"You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
"You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
those patient Hufflepuff's are true
and unafraid of toil;
"Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
where those of wit and learning
will always find their kind;
"Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
those cunning folk use any means
to achieve their ends.
"So put me on! Do not be afraid!
Moreover, do not get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
for I'm a Thinking Cap!"*
Applause broke out, whether for the song itself or just that it had ended was not known.
"When I call your name, sit down on the stool and place the Hat on your head. It will then Sort you into what House suits you best," Professor McGonagall instructed. She then looked at the scroll she held, and began calling names off it. The first name shocked the Hall, as it was completely out of order.
"Potter, Nick!"
Whispers broke out as he marched up to the stool and sat down as if it was a crime that he even had to be Sorted at all. Every Potter had gone into Gryffindor since—forever.
"THE Nick Potter?"
"He's here? Wicked!"
"Nick Potter, as in, the Boy-Who-Lived? Cool!"
"Hmm," a small, masculine voice spoke in his mind. "Where to put you? You have a big head; you will do anything for what you want…Slytherin would be good for you… after all you are cunning and manipulative…"
"Not Slytherin! Please not Slytherin! Put me in Gryffindor, please! My parents would kill me and the public would crucify me if I end up in Slytherin!" pleaded Nick looking sick and panicked. Thankfully it couldn't be seen under the Hat or the professors and students would have wondered what was going on.
"Hmm, very well then….Better be GRYFFINDOR!"
The cheering was louder than ever as Nick Potter got off the chair and smugly went to the Gryffindor table, his head held high in superiority. He had proven once again that he could get whatever he wanted. He had even talked the Hat out of putting him somewhere he refused to think about. He wasn't Slytherin—how dare the Hat think such a thing?
"Abbott, Hannah!"
HUFFLEPUFF!
"Bones, Susan!"
HUFFLEPUFF!
Harry watched as the students marched, crept, or ran up to the dilapidated hat and were placed in a House. He wondered what house he would be put in, but he figured it would probably be Slytherin.
"Granger, Hermione!"
GRYFFINDOR!
"Malfoy, Draco!"
SLYTHERIN!
"Patil, Padma!"
RAVENCLAW!
"Patil, Parvati!"
GRYFFINDOR!
Then came Perks, Sally-Anne, and finally, "Potter, Harry!"
Harry calmly walked over to the Hat, hearing the gasps all around the Hall. Not many people knew about him, after all. He was mentioned once in all the books and it was one sentence.
"The twin of the Boy-Who-Lived?"
"I never knew he had a twin!"
"He has never been mentioned before, has he?"
"Well, well, well, what do we have here? Such ambition, cunning when you need to be, you love your books and your thirst for knowledge yes…so much easier to place than your brother!" whispered the Hat, almost grinning widely at Harry Potter's mind.
"RAVENCLAW!" yelled the Hat soon after.
Professor Snape's jaw had dropped, unable to believe the child he had been speaking to earlier on was the child of James Potter. Looking between the twins, he noticed they looked nothing alike outside their height, eye, and hair color. He could tell by looking at Nick Potter that he was indeed a Potter. Looking at the other, he saw hardly any resemblance to the Potters in the boy at all, or even to Lily, which was strange. He wasn't sure what to think of this Potter. He looked nothing like them and wasn't in Gryffindor.
In the immediate future, he decided to think more on it later on that night, when he could actually think.
There were a few announcements after the Sorting (don't go to the third floor corridor or the Forbidden Forest, and outlawed joke products), then Dumbledore motioned and food appeared on all the tables.
Gryffindor table
Ron was sitting next to Nick, as usual; they were best friends, after all. "So your brother's in Ravenclaw? Strange. I guess it's just like the Patil twins," said Ron, drinking a big swig of pumpkin juice.
"Yes, we've never gotten on. I think he's jealous of me being famous and all. He'll never amount to anything like I will one day, since I'm the hero of the people," said Nick proudly. James and Lily had spoiled Nick rotten—he'd gotten everything he ever wanted, but he was polite and well mannered, well spoken. To everyone, he was the perfect son, and he used that to his advantage at every opportunity.
"Yes, probably just a jealous prat," said Ron, nodding and agreeing with him immediately.
"I'll be writing home about him, that's for sure. Everyone in our family has been in Gryffindor for as long as the Potter line has been going," frowned Nick, sounding disappointed.
"I know, my whole family has been in Gryffindor for ages, too," agreed Ron in understanding.
Nick smiled. Perhaps Ron understood him more than he'd thought, the boy mused, nodding his head. He had been best friends with Ron, and sure, he was great to hang around with—loved Quidditch as much as him—but he hadn't known Ron understood him like that before.
Ravenclaw table
The first years were already talking to one another, getting to know each other. Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to do or say, as he'd never had a friend before. He sat eating his dinner quietly, and when someone asked him a question, he answered it. Mostly, they wanted to know about his brother.
"What's your brother's favorite color?"
"What's your brother's favorite subject?"
"What's your brother like?"
"Why aren't you in Gryffindor with your brother?"
"What happened that Halloween night? How did your brother destroy You-Know-Who?"
Those were just some of the many questions shouted at him; Harry was getting annoyed with them all. The worst part was that he didn't know the answers to any of the questions, and he knew he wouldn't have told them, anyway. He felt like bursting into tears; no one really cared about him, it was only about his brother. Even his own Housemates weren't looking at him twice! Sighing, he sat there morosely eating his dinner.
The night for Harry seemed to last forever, but to everyone else, the time went fast, and before they knew it, Dumbledore had stood up. He gave them a warm, friendly good night, telling everyone to have a good sleep—before adding one more thing.
"Now, before bed, the School Song!" cried Headmaster Dumbledore.
The Slytherin students as well as the staff remained silent as the rest of the school made fools of themselves by singing the School Song. Hoggie hoggie hog wash. Nick Potter sang it along with everyone else; Severus, however, saw that Harry Potter stayed silent through the entire thing.
The song ended to a slow funeral march, compliments of twin redheads over at the Gryffindor table, who people knew as Fred and George Weasley, the resident pranksters. Harry was glad it was over; he just wanted to go to bed and sleep to get away from all the trying questions.
They were led up towards Ravenclaw tower alongside the Gryffindors, where they parted ways at the moving staircases. Harry didn't so much as gape when the stairs moved. When they got to the fourth floor, the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws changed directions to go to their towers. The Ravenclaw Prefect explained the Ravenclaw opening mechanism—answering a question correctly, always a different question—let them into the common room, and gave a huge, long, lecturing welcome. Harry didn't even bother listening to them, as his eyes were on the books, since he couldn't wait to read them, that was for sure.
At the end of the speech, a different Prefect stepped forward and said, "The House-Elves should have brought all your trunks and things up to the first year dorms by now, so just go from room to room on the hall marked 'first year'—the girls are through the door to the right and the boys are to the left. We Ravenclaws are lucky, since there's only two to a room, and proper space for a wardrobe, dresser, desk, and a large bookshelf for each of the room's occupants, so you have plenty of room to unpack. Off you go, now."
So, the girls and the boys separated and entered their dorms, searching through each room to find their trunks. When Harry finally found his, he was surprised—and secretly pleased—to see that it was in a room half the size of the others he'd seen, but there was only one bed and one of each of the corresponding articles of furniture. He stepped inside and closed the door, locking it before turning to admire the room.
At Potter Manor, much of the home was in red and gold. No, he didn't hate those colors, but nor did he like them. The blue and mild yellow of the Ravenclaw dorm was much easier for him to live with, and it helped to calm him as he went to his trunk, opened it, and began pulling things out to place on shelves and in drawers. It may have been a smaller room than his own at the Manor, but it already felt more like home.
Before he was finished, he heard a knock on the door and tentatively unlocked and opened it to see another first year boy standing there. The boy said without preamble, "I'm looking for my trunk. Mind if I check here?"
"There's only one bed in this room, though, so it can't be here," Harry told him, pushing the door open enough for the other boy to see there was indeed no other bed in the small room.
First, the boy seemed a bit put out. His expression then turned suspicious, and finally, it became anger as he almost growled, "Why do YOU get a single room? You're a Potter—this is the first time one of yours has been in Ravenclaw! My family have all been in Ravenclaw for generations, so if anyone should have a single room, it should be me! Get out, I'm getting my trunk and moving it in here, Potter." The way the boy spat out the last word made it sound like venom.
It frustrated Harry, and more, it made him angry. Eyes narrow and voice deliberately soft and calm, he stated, "I didn't choose this room. If you have a problem with it, take it up with the House-Elves. In the mean time, I'm going to bed. Good night." He then slammed the door shut and locked it again before the other boy had a chance to react.
Without realizing it, he also put up a silencing spell (it faded by morning, though), so as he finished unpacking and climbed into bed, he didn't hear the boy outside yelling and screaming profanities. He didn't know the other boy got sent to their Head of House for a good talking-to, points loss, and a detention, and he didn't know about the strange divide he'd caused in Ravenclaw by refusing to be bullied by an arrogant Pureblood. Some of them respected him for it, and others hated him for it, but all of them really weren't sure what to make of him, so by the next morning, nothing would have changed for him.
He didn't know until morning that his name was now scrolled on a small plaque which had appeared outside the door during the night (every door had a plaque with the room's occupants' names on them), but there was one benefit to it he really appreciated. At least he wouldn't have to put up with his House members asking questions about his brother all year.
Soon, everyone was waking up for their first day at school. Yawning, Harry woke up without prompting, heading to the first years' bathing room to get a shower before the morning rush. He dressed quickly in his school robes and got out all his new books, which he had read several times already. He used some spells on his bag to make it feather light and a bottomless pit, then moved all his class books into the bag, along with lots of parchment, quills, and ink.
As he left his room, he made sure it could only open to his magic since he didn't want anyone raiding his personal things. Who knew what they would do? On the mild end of the scale, they might steal his belongings and make him do things for them, like answer their questions regarding his brother or write their essays for them. He then started on his way to the Great Hall.
He took twenty minutes to get there—he had gotten lost three times before finally getting it correct. The Great Hall was already full of people, and no one even so much as looked up when Harry walked in; it didn't bother Harry at all. He was used to that kind of treatment. Slipping in beside a boy he didn't know, one different from the one last night, he blinked when Filius Flitwick handed him his timetable with a cheerful, proud grin. Immediately, he began looking it over.
Harry had seen the family owl delivering a letter to his brother; he wasn't surprised, but saddened, when nothing came for him. He had not really expected anything, but was hurt that they wouldn't (or couldn't bring themselves to) even congratulate him, or even tell him how disappointed they were. Harry really hated being ignored—in some ways, being shouted at was much better, since at least it meant they knew he existed.
He was able to sit and eat breakfast longer than some of the others, who were only just getting their timetables and had to go find their dorms again to get their books. Harry already had all the books he would need for the year in his bag.
'I have most of my classes with Slytherin. It's better than Gryffindor, I suppose. The less I have to do with my brother, the better,' thought Harry as he continued reading (and memorizing) his timetable.
Putting it in the front of his bag so he would always be able to see it, he then began wondering what Transfiguration, his first class of the day, was going to be like. He also wondered what McGonagall would be like, though he felt it would be an easy class, as he had learned Transfiguration ages ago.
'I best head up now, it might take me a while to get there,' thought Harry, nodding his head as he got up, grabbed a bit of toast, smeared it with jam, and walked from the Great Hall
Making his way to class, he was surprised to find the Transfiguration classroom pretty easily. On the desk at the front sat a stern-looking gray and black tabby cat with spectacle markings around its eyes. Since he was nearly the first one there, he went to the very back of the room and took his book out as he waited for the class to start. He had to stop himself from laughing when his brother and Ron stumbled into the room several minutes late and looking a mess.
"Thank Merlin she's not here," said Ron, sitting down. There were only two seats left, and they were right at the very front.
Suddenly, the gray and black tabby cat on the desk moved forward, blurred, and became the stern Professor McGonagall. "Perhaps I should transfigure one of you into a pocket watch so at least one of you may be on time," said Professor McGonagall, sounding both annoyed and a little amused at scaring them as she returned back to normal from her cat animagus form.
"Sorry, Professor McGonagall. It was Ron's fault," replied the Boy-Who-Lived, giving the woman a charming smile.
"Very well. Sit down, Mr. Potter," ordered McGonagall, and Nick promptly sat beside Ron. "Mr. Thomas, I want you to hand out what is in that box," said the Professor, pointing at Dean Thomas, then to the box she meant with her wand.
"Yes, Ma'am," said the boy, sliding from his chair.
"Now, I want to welcome you all to Transfiguration. My name is Professor McGonagall, in case anyone has forgotten, and I want you to work very hard in this classroom. I won't accept anything less," said Professor McGonagall with her lips drawn and the bun in her hair making her look more intimidating with her green witches' robes.
Once everyone had a match, Thomas sat down and the Professor took a step forward, commanding the students' attention with a sense emanating from her which told everyone she would have no nonsense in her class. "I want everyone to take out their books and read the first chapter. I will award any House five points if they can transfigure their match into a needle today. As rare as it is for someone to be able to do so, the points will be well-earned—very few have been able to do it in all my time working here," said Professor McGonagall. The class began working right away.
It was about ten minutes before the witch said anything else. "Well done, Nick! Just a little more and it will be entirely transfigured! If you're able, I will award you an extra five points," offered Professor McGonagall, smiling slightly.
Of course Nick was good at Transfiguration...They both were, actually, but Nick got all the help he needed while Harry had to do it himself. The reason she didn't expect anyone to get it was because parents didn't teach their children Transfiguration ahead of time. Not many people liked Transfiguration, but James Potter was great at it, and his sons had taken after him. Most Purebloods were too busy learning Latin and dining lessons, Pureblood etiquette lessons, and Dark Arts to learn anything like Transfiguration.
Harry, himself, had done it almost immediately, but no one noticed either him or the blue sapphires which dropped into the replica of the Ravenclaw hourglass on the class wall that was a smaller duplicate of the one in the Great Hall—every classroom had the smaller duplicates on one wall. Not even his partner noticed; as he was trying to get it himself, his total concentration was on the match. Had McGonagall looked at the other side of the room, she would have seen that both Harry and a Muggleborn had gotten it before Nick. The girl was the same one from the train, who had bushy hair and larger than normal front teeth. She seemed disappointed when the teacher did not look at her, while Harry was just used to not being noticed.
Harry looked away from the girl in disgust, thinking, 'Teacher's pet.' He hated people like that; his brother was like that, too, expecting praise for everything he did. It was pathetic and annoying. He couldn't help but think, 'She has a lot to learn. No one will praise her, not when Nick Potter is around, that's for sure.' He shook his head at the thought.
"Very well done, Mr. Potter!" smiled Professor McGonagall suddenly. "An extra five points to Gryffindor!"
The bell rang soon after, and everyone packed up and began leaving with McGonagall thinking only one person had gotten their match transfigured. Once the students were gone, the woman quickly gathered all the test matchsticks, then frowned as she realized that three people had gotten their match to turn into a needle. She didn't have any idea who the other two were, but she was suddenly looking forward to this year. Three promising students, all in one class...She would need to figure out who they were. She'd have to check the list for point allocation soon...
She didn't realize she had spent the whole class trying to help Nick get his match right until that moment, then dismissed the realization as irrelevant. She knew he would need all the help he could get; she knew of the prophecy, since Albus and James kept very little from her.
The first years headed to Defense Against the Dark Arts next, only for it to be a class Harry just wanted to laugh off as a joke. He just hoped the professor was playing with them the first day; if he wasn't, he was a complete, stuttering fool. Harry had gone to the back of the classroom, annoyed within moments, and began reading a book while an enchanted quill wrote down everything his teacher said. It was a good thing he could charm the quill to wait until the stuttering man had finished talking before it wrote it down, otherwise the notes would have looked like a wad of parchment full of squiggly lines and letters. He just glanced over them on his way to Charms, learning more from the parchment than from the man's stuttering mouth.
Charms was great, as the small Professor and Harry's Head of House was very knowledgeable and happy. He pretty much paid attention to everyone, too, so Harry decided he liked Professor Flitwick. They had to read first again; however, the Charms book was much larger than the Transfiguration book, but the spells were easier overall. Harry spent the class reading his book and pretending to try to work the spell, but Nick cast the spell correctly right away. Lily had taught Nick how to do it; Harry knew how to do it, too, but didn't want any attention to be drawn to him in a class where the teacher was actually paying attention to the other students, so chose not to work the spell properly.
He wasn't going to be beaten up or get sent letters telling him how much of an attention seeker he was. He briefly recalled one time when he had been little and had tried out one of the family brooms. It had been fun while it had lasted as he had been flying really well, doing tricks Nick had yet to do. James had just called him an 'attention seeker', and his brother had hit him in the face that time.
With a small shudder, Harry just reconfirmed with himself that he didn't want to draw any attention to himself in any class he shared with Nick.
Finally, the class ended and Harry took a quick look around for Nick. The other boy was already gone, along with nearly all the Gryffindors, so Harry called, "Professor!"
"What would you like, Mr. Potter?" asked Professor Flitwick cheerfully, joining him by his desk.
"Can you check my spell for me before I go, please?" asked the eleven-year-old. At the small wizard's nod and 'go ahead' motion, Harry cast the spell perfectly.
"Oh, good job! You've got it! Five points to Ravenclaw!" announced Flitwick happily. "Off you go, now!" added the Professor, shooing the pleased boy out of the room.
Next came Potions, which was with the Hufflepuffs that time. Thank goodness it wasn't another class with his brother. Sliding into a seat in the Potions classroom, he started reading his book while waiting for everyone else to come in. They didn't seem to want to come into the classroom, and none sat near him. He wondered what the Hell was going on; he was right at the back and he knew they were avoiding the front, but they also seemed to be avoiding him. Shrugging his shoulders, he hid behind his book. It wasn't all bad, as he had extra room for all his things, him having the entire bench to himself. He found he liked that just fine, so didn't feel put out that none of them wanted to sit next to him.
Just then, the door banged open to reveal Potions Master and Professor Severus Snape. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." The whole speech had been stated in a nearly whispering voice, but the last bit about dunderheads had been snapped out like a thunderclap. **
After a pause, the man in black robes stated, "On the blackboard are the instructions to a fairly simple potion, the Cure for Boils. Write down those instructions, as you will be brewing it shortly. Currently, be prepared to take notes."
He didn't torment the Hufflepuffs or the Ravenclaws as much as he tormented the Gryffindors in his Slytherin/Gryffindor classes. The Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff classes were the best at following instructions and the most peaceful classes, probably because there was no House prejudice to be had. No, the fighting between Houses was between Gryffindor and Slytherin.
Severus knew that Voldemort hadn't just recruited Slytherins, but people from every House. He also was under no illusions, like everyone else—he knew Voldemort was coming back; it was part of the reason why he acted the way he did, as he knew that when Voldemort came back, he would have to be harder, stronger. Well, some people knew Voldemort would be back, such as Dumbledore, McGonagall, the Potters, and some other Order members...Not nearly enough.
The Potions Master was grateful he didn't have to act in this class, because it wasn't the class where he would be heavily watched...It wasn't the class Nick Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was in.
He was startled when he read the register and realized Harry Potter was in his class. Looking for the boy as he called his name for role-call, he found him in the corner of the room, ready to take notes after having written down the potion's instructions. Severus kept an eye on the boy all through the note-taking after roll-call, and right into the brewing after that. The younger Potter twin was brewing his potion with a patience he had only known himself to show for the subject, but was still not sure what to think of the boy.
Even if he thought the boy was all right, he could hardly be caught being nice to the twin of the Boy-Who-Lived. Mind you, he could just tell Voldemort he was corrupting the boy, as that would work—having members of Light families betray their family and friends was one of the Dark Lord's favorite games, in fact. Severus shook his head to clear it. He hated thinking about Voldemort coming back because it just put him in a really bad mood. Sighing, he decided not to think about the boy anymore.
Looking away from Harry Potter, he barked at the students who were about to add the wrong ingredient to their potion.
Harry had seen his Potions Professor looking at him. He was confused, as no one had ever stared at him for so long it began making him uncomfortable. He shuddered slightly, thinking on what would have happened if he had been picked up and hailed the hero. He didn't think he could have put up with it, and didn't know how his brother put up with it.
At dinner, Nick was the talk of the day. Looking over, he saw that his brother was red and looked ready to explode. Frowning, he wondered what the Hell had happened, so began listening to the Ravenclaws talk until he found out what had happened.
"...Professor Snape was down right nasty to him..."
"...Asked him potions questions he didn't know..."
"...I knew them, though, and so did a Muggleborn girl with bushy hair..."
'That girl is getting on my nerves. I just hope she keeps her nose out of my business. Thank Merlin I don't have her in many of my classes,' thought Harry, shaking his head. Oh, how he felt like strangling the Muggleborn girl. Although, in her favor, Harry found it amusing how his brother couldn't answer the questions when she could. Hadn't he read his books?
He soon found out what questions it was which Nick couldn't answer.
"...Didn't know what he would get if he added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood. Stupid..."
'Asphodel and wormwood? Isn't that the Draught of Living Death? I'm going to check that,' thought Harry.
"...Didn't know where to find a bezoar..."
'That's stupid! It's on the second page of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, it tells you it's found in the stomach of a goat. It's the second ingredient you learn about. I know he has the book,' thought Harry, wondering what was going on. His brother wasn't that daft, was he?
"...The last one was easier. It was a trick question about the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane..."
'What?' blinked Harry. Oh, Nick was so stupid! 'The questions went from hard to easy. No wonder the Ravenclaws think he's stupid and why Snape was pissed! It's the same bloody plant...!' thought Harry.
Before anyone knew it, it was the day before flying lessons with someone named Madam Hooch. Harry was looking forward to it, but right now, he was walking along the Quidditch pitch and no one was around.
Nick was good at flying, but nothing like Harry. Undeniably, Harry was the better flier, so much so that even Nick had to admit it. The only problem was that the older twin was a jealous prat. He had been brought up believing he had to be (and WAS) good at everything, so why would he think otherwise? Despite how good Harry was, though, he wasn't a flying fanatic, just a natural—which meant James couldn't have bonded with him over his flying, even if the man had wanted to.
Wanting a taste of flying again, he went to the broom shed and took out a broom. No one was there to tell him he was being an attention seeker, so he could fly for a few minutes; he was going to pretend to be crap at it during class, after all. It had been a long time since he had been on one. His row with his father and brother had made him never want to go on one again, not where someone in the family would see. He wasn't an attention seeker and he never would be.
Climbing onto the broom, he started flying, not knowing it was against the rules. After all, the letter had only said no first year is allowed their own broom at school, not that they weren't allowed to fly outside of their supervised classes. He started doing twists and turns, relishing the freedom it brought him. He didn't like Quidditch (it was too competitive for his tastes), but flying was alright. He didn't see anything exciting about it or worth gossiping over. What he did like was the freedom he felt while flying for a few minutes, though he still preferred a good book.
"POTTER!" yelled McGonagall suddenly, squinting as she tried to see him better, since she didn't have her glasses on.
Swearing silently, he took off for a hidden corner, thinking that, maybe if he disappeared, the woman wouldn't know and think it was someone else. Then he realized, who was he kidding? She had yelled 'Potter'. Banishing the broom back to the shed, he ran to the Library and buried his nose in a book, hoping he would somehow avoid trouble.
He had spent the rest of the day in the Library, and now it was dinnertime. He was just turning a corner when he heard his brother's and Ron's voices. Halting in mid-step, he listened to their conversation.
"No, she just told me I've been made the youngest seeker in a century," said Nick, smirking.
"But we were with you! You didn't go flying, so what the Hell happened?" asked Ron, sounding confused.
"I went by myself a while ago," answered Nick, lying quickly to cover up the suspicion.
Harry's jaw dropped at that.
So McGonagall had thought he was Nick, and now the credit for his skill was going to his brother again. Slumping against the wall, he stopped the tears from falling down his face with an act of will. Crying made no difference. Nobody cared, ever. It was best not to cry over anything, he had learned that the hard way. He still had to wonder why everything he did always got turned into some accomplishment for his brother...First Voldemort, then many other bouts of accidental magic, and now this.
No longer feeling hungry, he went back up to his dorm, not wanting to hear any of the celebrations about how Nick Potter was on the Quidditch team. The last thing he wanted was for everyone to praise his brother for being the best while thinking Harry was stupid and worth nothing. His room was better than the Great Hall, even when he had no homework to distract him—he'd already finished it. He spent the night locked in his room trying to stop himself from succumbing to the emotional agony of that day's new revelation.
Before everyone knew it, Halloween was upon them. Harry was dreading it, listening and watching all the happy people talking about and preparing for Halloween. He had never really celebrated it, and knew he could get away with not being there— after all, they didn't care about him.
He hid in his room until he heard the footsteps of his Housemates thud into nothingness. It didn't take long for Harry to get bored, so he searched in his trunk for a book, promptly realizing he had read everything. Getting out his library card, which allowed him to check books out of the Library, he headed to his favorite place in the whole school.
He was so intent on getting to the Library he didn't hear the thudding or smell the stench until it was close. Shocked, he fell when the very corridor shook with each step the thing took. Wondering what the Hell a giant or troll was doing in the school, he backed away, eyes searching for it—and finding a fully-grown mountain troll.
"Conjunctiva!" yelled Harry, wide-eyed and knowing this beast could, and would, kill him. He was even more shocked when he actively realized there was a troll in the school. Harry only realized he shouldn't have done that when it began stomping around and bashing its club on the walls. If anything, the troll had become worse, but thankfully, the walls were getting the worst of it so far.
Thinking of another spell he could use, he finally decided on one. Pointing his wand, he yelled a spell he had learned from an upper year potions book he had found. It had been among the used potions books in the classroom cupboard when he had forgotten his own one period. He had taken it and the book he was using for his first year. He knew it was a sixth year potions book, but he loved Potions enough to take it, especially when he saw all the notes about the potions themselves and the ingredient preparation written in the columns. Seeing what the book contained, he never gave it back. Potions would be so easy with the scribbling in the margins to support him. Nobody would miss it, after all—it was just a used book stuffed in a drawer for when others had forgotten their books.
"Levicorpus," yelled the boy, putting as much magic into it as he could.
The troll was upside down within seconds; however, Harry couldn't keep the spell going because the troll was too heavy. With a thud, the troll fell on its head. He saw the crunch and just stared as the troll's neck snapped in half. It was torn and hanging open, green troll blood leaking everywhere. Gagging at the sight, he quickly ran from the scene. If he was found there, Nick would write home, and he really didn't want a Howler from home calling him an attention seeker for trying to save his own life. Especially not in front of everyone, which was when Howlers had a tendency to arrive.
Albus Dumbledore locked the entrances to the common rooms, knowing whoever was out had killed the troll. He wanted to know who had the strength of magic to kill a fully-grown mountain troll.
"Everyone not in their common rooms come down to the Great Hall immediately," announced the Headmaster, his voice angry as it channeled through the school to be heard by everyone not in their common rooms.
Harry and others who had not been in their common rooms came in one-by-one guiltily. The first to arrive was a teary-eyed Hermione Granger, followed by Ronald Weasley and Nick Potter. Last but not least was Harry Potter.
"Were any of you near the troll at all?" asked the Headmaster, his eyes not twinkling. For a moment, no one said anything.
"We were, Sir," said Ron and Nick worriedly. They had seen the troll and had bolted when the beast had given a huge grunt.
"And what were you doing down there?" asked Dumbledore, his voice cold and hard.
Nick had to get himself out of trouble! He just needed to! He had never been in trouble before and didn't want to be now, so he told the Headmaster everything (or an edited version of everything which made him look good), his voice apologetic and head lowered, gaze on the floor.
"I'm sorry, Headmaster. You see, Ron had been unkind to a Muggleborn girl named Hermione and a girl called Parvati and caused them to be upset. I overheard someone say that they were crying in the bathrooms, but we kind of got lost on our way there and met a troll. I did what I had to do to stop it," said Nick.
"Bit far from where you were meant to be, was it not?" asked Severus, sneering.
"Yes, Sir. We got lost," said Ron, his face, which was now bright red, matching his flaming red hair.
"Very well, twenty points for facing the troll, but detention with McGonagall for disobeying my orders," said the Headmaster, his eyes twinkling again.
"Thanks, Sir!" said Nick and Ron, sharing wide-eyed looks.
"What spell did you use?" asked Severus, eyebrow raised.
"Levitation spell, Sir," said Nick, recalling their last charms class and thinking back on how lucky it had been that there just happened to be an old, magically reinforced, thick, wooden door which looked like it had once belonged on the entrance to the Great Hall sitting in the corridor near them. He had been able to use it to block the troll off so it couldn't chase them by bracing it against two of the statues down the hall.
"Is your potions book new?" asked Severus, stalking forward towards his prey.
"Sir?" asked Nick, raising his head in confusion.
"Is your potions book new?" repeated Snape, talking slowly and deliberately.
"Yes, Sir. My mother bought it," said Nick, even more confused.
"Very well," smirked Severus. So Potter hadn't killed the troll, the brat was lying after all. Or, by the way he was acting, he and the Headmaster were talking about two different events.
He knew the effects of his own spell; it had a very unique signature, even if it was similar to the Wingardium Leviosa signature. Dumbledore didn't realize that, but he had as soon as he had examined the troll. Therefore, it was definitely not Nick Potter, so either he had taken credit for someone else's work or had met the troll and somehow had avoided fighting it using the levitation spell. Interesting. He was curious to know who had his book to even be aware of those spells. He would need to check his Slytherins; only his Slytherins would act like the actual defeater of the troll had—doing something, then running away and not telling anyone what they had accomplished.
If only he had looked at Harry in the moments after he'd asked Nick about his potions book, he may have realized who had his book.
Harry, on the other hand, knew that the book belonged to Severus Snape as soon as he had asked. After all, the spell had been in the book and the spell did not exist anywhere else. So the Potions Master was the Half-Blood Prince...he couldn't help smirking a bit, finding that information interesting, very interesting indeed. Snape's mother had been a Prince, then. No wonder he was good at potions—the Princes had been known for their potions. He had read books and books full of potions the Princes had created or improved.
As good as all that was, Harry was torn between wanting to be recognized for what he'd done and wanting to be left to his own devices like it had never happened...like he hadn't just killed a living creature. It made him angry that Nick was getting the credit for what he had done again, but he was terrified of anyone finding out and what would happen to him if anyone did, so he just stayed quiet.
Nothing was said after that night. Severus, however, was getting frantic trying to find his old potions book, as none of his Slytherins had it. He couldn't believe he had left it somewhere where someone could have gotten their hands on it. It was dangerous; there were spells in there which could kill someone within seconds without the counter-curse, and he knew the counters weren't written in that book. If he didn't find either the book or the student with it, they might try them. It would be his fault if someone else died because of those spells, even indirectly.
Harry couldn't help but think bitterly, 'The first Quidditch match of the season is next. Can life get any worse? Why doesn't anyone ever SEE ME? I was riding that broom! How could she have mistaken me for my brother? We don't have the same length of hair, just for starters.' With a sigh, he sat back and ate his breakfast.
Looking over at the Gryffindor table, he watched as the Head of Slytherin went over to his brother and said something. He wasn't sure what it was, but Snape seemed to hate his brother, and he was glad the man didn't hate him like he did Nick. He seemed to take points from him and humiliate him every chance he got. He was just glad someone didn't blindly love his brother.
Sighing, he wondered what people would think of his brother's skills at Quidditch. Were Lily and James coming to watch or not? He wondered briefly if they'd come to watch Harry fly, but immediately dismissed the idea—Harry wasn't Nick, after all.
Just as he thought about the Potters coming to watch Nick play, the doors to the Great Hall opened, and with a sinking feeling in his stomach he realized it was James and Lily with Roxy. He swallowed hard as he watched his brother get pats on his back from their father (and a new broom to fly on), pats he should have gotten, and cuddles from his sister and mother, cuddles that should have been his. He exploded in anger, making every single goblet in the Great Hall erupt, causing pumpkin juice and other drinks to spray everywhere.
The Headmaster just waved his wand and the goblets were repaired, their previous drinks pouring into them once more. Everyone shrugged their shoulders and dismissed it while Harry was sitting panting at the Ravenclaw table; it had been a long time since he had released that amount of magic. No one had seen, thankfully. Harry had been thinking since the whole seeker incident, and couldn't help but think that it was much better not being seen. His parents coming to congratulate Nick and lavish him with attention had brought the bitter hate back. Fame or not, his parents should have been the ones proud of him—it had been him, after all!
"Harry, get over here," ordered James as they got up to leave the Hall.
"What?" asked Harry once he was standing with them.
"You're coming with us to watch your brother play, and we're sitting up in the teacher's box," said James, taking his son's shoulder. Nick was already gone, presumably to get changed; the others all made their way to the Quidditch pitch.
Severus felt hate started bubbling up when he saw the Potter family, and watching Harry with his family caused the hate to transfer to him. It suddenly hit him that Harry was a Potter whether he was in Ravenclaw or looked like one or not. Snarling, he too headed to the pitch, hoping his Slytherins beat the Gryffindors; he had a bet on with McGonagall, so they had better win.
Severus had congratulated the Potter boy, but had been surprised at how nervous the boy had been.
Said Potter boy was nervous because he knew he wasn't that good at Quidditch. He knew it had been his brother, but the thought of fame held him back from telling the truth.
The result of Nick's lie saw Harry sitting in the teacher's box with his family, sitting the furthest he could away from them without being too obvious about it, but looking very unhappy and resigned.
Just then, the Gryffindor that was commentating on the match started speaking through the enchanted microphone."Welcome to the first Quidditch match of the season...Slytherin verses GRYFFINDOR!" yelled Lee Jordan, a black wizard who was friends with the Weasley twins.
"First out, the Gryffindors! Beaters Fred and George Weasley, Chasers Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Angela Johnson, Team Captain and Keeper Oliver Wood...and the brand new Seeker...None other than our very own Boy-Who-Lived, NICK POTTER!"
"Next up, the Slytherins! Team Captain and Chaser Marcus Flint, Chasers Adrian Pucey and Victor Mitcham, Keeper Miles Bletchley, Beaters Damian Burke and Tobias Daley, and Seeker Terrence Higgs!" announced Lee Jordan, lacking the proper enthusiasm.
"I want a nice, clean game," Hooch said, her cat-like eyes taking in every player and demanding they listen to her.
Madam Hooch, the referee, blew the commanding whistle; the war drums had been struck. The battle had begun. The long, wooden box was kicked open, releasing the Bludgers and Snitch, and off they went. With another whistle blow, the Quaffle was thrown up.
Lee's voice broke through the swarm of cheers radiating from the stands. "And Flint grabs the Quaffle first; he dodges Bell, ducks a Bludger courtesy of Fred Weasley, or was that George? Flint shoots, Wood moves to save it. Come on Wood! NO! Wood has to jump away to avoid the Bludger shot by Burke. Flint scores 10 - 0 Slytherin."
"Angelina Johnson has the Quaffle, passes to Bell, who throws it to—intercepted by the Slytherin Chaser Mitcham, who passes to Flint. He scores 20 – 0 Slytherin." Three quarters of the stand masses booed loudly, stomping their feet roughly in protest. The green and silver-attired crowd yelled their support.
"No sign of the Snitch so far. Nick Potter, Gryffindor's new Seeker, is riding the brand new, state-of-the-art Nimbus 2000, the best broom on the market today—"
The advertisement for the new broom was cut off shortly by a reprimand of, "Mr Jordan, comment on the match, NOT the broom." McGonagall's voice snapped harshly.
Lee Jordan, third year Gryffindor, murmured a nonplus, "Sorry, Professor," while dancing away from McGonagall's reach. The play-by-play commenting began again. "And the snakes steel the Quaffle again. The Weasley twins hit a Bludger each at the Slytherin chaser Pucey. They miss. He scores. 30 - 0 Slytherins."
Twenty minutes passed. The green army had clearly taken a commanding lead. The score had advanced to 120 - 40 Slytherin. "Johnson has the Quaffle, let's hope she can keep it together to begin a comeback. Go Johnson! Show those snakes! Keeper Bletchley is hit with a Bludger in the stomach. Nice aim Fred or George. Bell scores. 120 - 50 Slytherin. Bletchley is still in game, shaking off the effects of the hit." Jordan continued as several warnings from McGonagall filled the stadium.
"Is that the Snitch?" Lee asked excitedly, cutting off the Transfiguration Professor. The stands silenced, looking intently at the Seekers. "Potter dives, heading fast to the ground. The Slytherin Seeker dives down, Higgs overtakes Potter. Higgs pulls up and Potter darts back up missing the ground by mere inches, the Snitch has disappeared once again."
A half hour passed, Slytherin still dominant. The Slytherin Beaters had stepped up their attack. Burke and Daley were blasting the Bludgers at the Gryffindors, double teaming the Chasers. The Weasley twins were too busy protecting their fellow team mates from bodily harm to break up Slytherin advances. The score soared to 250 - 60 Slytherin. The mighty lions were loosing spirit; their pride had taken a major bruising.
Higgs was making slow circular passes, looking for the Snitch. Occasionally, he would dart down into a sharp dive to break up a Gryffindor play.
Everyone watched in horror as Nick Potter's broom gave a violent jerk. Or mostly everyone; the Slytherins and Harry couldn't give two sods.
Then another.
The broom would not respond to Nick's commands. It was as if it had a mind of its own. And it wanted its rider off NOW.
"Potter seems to have lost control of his broom. I guess the Gryffindors were wrong to use a first year. Shows why there's a rule against it!" Jordan stated for those few who hadn't already noticed.
The stands had noticed. A silence fell over the field. Confusion and murmurs grew as time passed. Flint signaled his Beaters to take out Wood. Two Bludgers hit the Gryffindor Captain and Keeper, knocking him unconscious and off his broom.
No one was paying attention, eyes fixated on the Boy-Who-Lived who was dangling off his Nimbus 2000 broom. Flint seized the Quaffle; they couldn't miss such a brilliant opportunity to ensure they won this match, even if Nick Potter caught the Snitch.
260 - 60 Slytherin.
Nick's broom bucked to the right. The raven haired boy held on looking petrified.
270 - 60 Slytherin.
The Boy-Who-Lived looked at the teachers his eyes begging for his parents to do something. Every time his friends and admirers tried to help, he would be jerked further up.
290 - 60 Slytherin. Flint was enjoying tossing the Quaffle through the three rings with no resistance.
Suddenly, Higgs spotted the Snitch. Diving after it, he paid no mind to the boy who was barely clinging to his broom.
300 - 60 Slytherin.
Higgs was flying blindingly fast after the Snitch. Right. Left. Right. Down. Up. Down. Left. He diligently followed the little golden ball.
310 - 60 Slytherin.
Suddenly, the broom stopped bucking and Nick Potter was able to get control of his broom back so he could follow Higgs and the Snitch. No one realized the broom stopped bucking because James got between Quirrell and Nick while trying to figure out a way to help his son.
320 - 60 Slytherin.
Higgs was nearly there, the gold ball was twitching within a few inches of his reach.
330 - 60 Slytherin.
The Seeker clutched his fingers around the winged menace. Higgs smirked, the Slytherins had won. Harry felt like jumping for joy, but he kept his cheers to himself, knowing the trouble he would be in; for once, it had been proven Nick wasn't the best.
A crowd had already gathered, waiting for the heroes in green and silver.
The army dressed in red and gold trudged off the battlefield, battered and worn. They had lost.
"I thought you said he was good?" asked Severus, sneering.
"He was, Severus! Perhaps it's just nerves," insisted McGonagall.
"Couldn't it have been the other Potter?" asked Severus suddenly, causing Harry to stiffen and pray McGonagall didn't listen. He didn't care about Quidditch anymore, and the Gryffindors lost either way.
"Harry doesn't fly, he's never been on a broom in his life," said James, sneering at Severus. He was, of course, lying through his teeth.
"Strange that, he was when we did flying practice," said Madam Hooch.
"There is a first time for everything. Excuse me, I want to see if my son is all right," said James, running to catch up with his wife, Roxy, and Nick, leaving Harry behind.
"Well, you owe me 20 galleons, Minerva," said Severus, smirking. As he made his way from the stands, he noticed a miserable-looking Harry disappearing towards Ravenclaw tower and vaguely wondered what that was all about.
Christmas was upon them all before they knew it, and it was time for everyone who was staying to sign up. Harry signed up to stay, but his brother was going home to Potter Manor. Harry would rather stay, and they wouldn't miss him anyway, plus he wanted to learn more magic. What better way than to stay over Christmas and read all the time? He wondered briefly if he would get any presents, but he knew his parents had forgotten last year, and had only vaguely compensated him with some of the gifts Nick and Roxy had gotten and didn't want. He would have been stupid not to see his brother's and sister's names on the name tags.
In the meantime, he got his first detention from Snape; Severus was getting more and more suspicious about the boy, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. The detention would have given him a better idea of what it was, however he hadn't been able to monitor that detention. Dumbledore had called him up to his office to talk about his precious Boy-Who-Lived and the various plots Albus had in motion; it was getting on his nerves. His last nerve, at that.
So, Harry had been forced to serve detention with Nick, Ron, and Draco Malfoy. Harry walked away from them, even though he had been told to go with Malfoy. Only problem was, Malfoy was just a coward who hid behind a tree just inside the Forbidden Forest.
He wasn't far from his brother, but out of nowhere, an agonizing pain hit his forehead. It was worse than a migraine or any headache he had ever had, causing him to fall to his knees. However, the pain started receding slightly moments later, and he looked up, gasping as he saw a black shadow approaching his brother. He knew it was Voldemort.
Of course, his brother wasn't grasping his forehead or suffering pain; he wasn't the real Boy-Who-Lived, so there was no connection. Nick had no idea that the black thing was Voldemort, so Harry thought he should do something to help, but seconds later, he could hear hooves. A centaur appeared to rescue his brother, so he backed away, but stayed close enough to hear what Nick and the centaur were saying.
"What was that?" Harry heard his brother ask.
"Do you know the properties of Unicorn Blood?" asked the centaur.
"No," answered his brother. Harry snorted—he knew that one, and was thinking it as the centaur said it.
"It is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn. Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. To have slain something so pure to save yourself, you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips," explained the centaur quietly and seriously.
Harry could not help but frown and think, 'Who would choose such a life?' even though he knew the answer—Voldemort.
"So?" was all his brother asked. Harry had to snort softly in derision. Was Nick really that stupid, when he KNEW, just as Harry did, that Voldemort would be back?
"There is only one person who would do this, to survive long enough to enter Hogwarts," said the centaur.
"So?" asked Nick again, looking annoyed.
Harry, however, grasped what the centaur was trying to tell his brother. Voldemort! There must be something in the school which would give him his body and life back. What could it be? There was nothing which could do that was there? There was only one thing he could think of, the Philosopher's Stone, but even then, it belonged to Nicolas Flamel. Why would it be in Hogwarts?
Slowly, the pieces began to make sense...The break-in at Gringotts, then the Stone being taken to Hogwarts. Flamel obviously didn't think the Stone was safe, but Voldemort should not have been able to get into Hogwarts. The castle was said to be the safest place on the planet. However, he didn't know that, by the end of the year, he would be changing his mind.
"Hello, there, Firenze," Hagrid's voice suddenly boomed from nearby.
"Here is Hagrid. This is where I leave you, Nick Potter. Good luck. You will need it," said Firenze the centaur but he was looking into the trees where Harry was standing, and Harry had the eerie sensation Firenze knew he was there. Finally, as Hagrid was approaching Nick, the centaur left.
"Goodbye," said Nick, joining Hagrid, the monster in the cloak already forgotten.
Harry stood there, unable to believe what he had just heard; he wondered how thick his brother was. Perhaps he would put the rest of the clues together later, but right now, he had to get back to the others. He didn't want to stay in the Forbidden Forest any longer, and the last thing he needed was for Voldemort to find out that it was really him who was the Boy-Who-Lived. He would, when Harry was screaming in pain, clutching his bloody scar while Nick didn't even react!
"Where's yer brother?" asked Hagrid.
"I don't know, I wasn't with him. Ron ended up wandering off, and I don't know where the others went," said Nick.
"Well, come on, then. Le's get lookin' for 'em," replied Hagrid, holding up a huge lantern.
-Meanwhile for Harry-
As he was heading towards the trail, he saw a unicorn and stopped to stare.
It was bleeding silvery-blue blood which glinted in the moonlight, and quite heavily, at that. He knew some healing spells and hoped they would work on the injured creature laying nearby, even as he hoped the unicorn would stay there so he could approach it TO heal it. Thankfully, the creature stayed still as he approached and crouched by the wound. Sure enough, the spells did work, but only a little. Harry began biting his lip, not wanting to see such a beautiful animal die.
Just then, he remembered the potion he had made while experimenting with the HBP's book. He dug quickly in his bag and pulled out a healing potion. It was a fairly basic healing potion, but was still difficult to make normally...but with the HBP's potions book, he was able to brew it—and not just AT quality, BETTER THAN standard quality.
Pouring the potion on the gaping wound in the unicorn's hide, he watched intently as the wound closed. Sighing thankfully, he actively looked at the unicorn for the first time and found himself in awe of the beautiful, pearly-white mane and its long, slender legs. Slowly but not threateningly, he started petting the unicorn softly, and as did, he couldn't help but think, 'They're so white that it makes snow seem a greyish color.'
He was surprised the unicorn didn't move, as it was well known that unicorns only liked women's touch, and mostly pure women's touch. However, for whatever reason, the unicorn didn't move and let him pet her.
Quickly putting everything away, he was awed when a golden hoof came up and cut her skin shallowly on the opposite foreleg. Harry was awed, because very,very few had ever been given unicorn blood freely, and none of them in the last few hundred years. Shaking slightly, he gathered only one large-sized potions vial—about a cup— of it. After all, the unicorn had lost a lot of blood. He tucked the potion bottle safely away, knowing he would carry it always.
"Goodbye," was all Harry said, before running until he got back to Hagrid and Nick, led somewhat by Hagrid's voice; he could never mistake that loud voice for anyone else.
"I'm here, is detention over? By the way, the hurt unicorn is over there," said Harry, pointing in its direction.
"Oh dear," said Hagrid, lumbering over towards the hurt unicorn with the two boys following.
They got there to see it getting up on unsteady feet and trotting back into the forest, dipping its head slightly. Harry knew it was at him, but both Hagrid and Nick thought it was directed at Nick Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. He was, after all, golden and pure, and the unicorn was able to sense that, or so they assumed. Harry seethed, but didn't say anything.
Finding Draco and Ron arguing at the edge of the Forest, they went back to school. Detention was finally over. They all went to their beds, glad to be out of the Forbidden Forest and away from the strange creatures there. Although, Harry just wanted to hide in the shadows; he hated people looking at him so much, especially the way Dumbledore looked at him in disappointment and the way Snape looked at him searchingly.
Harry knew immediately what was happening when he saw Dumbledore leaving, and the look Quirrell was giving the Headmaster's retreating back. Frowning, he followed Quirrell, knowing the Professor had Voldemort attached to him somehow. After feeling his scar constantly aching in the DADA class, it was hard not to.
Harry followed until he knew Quirrell was in a place no one would look for him, stunning him, binding him, and leaving him for dead. He then took off, unaware that his stupid brother and friends were going into a maze, not because of Voldemort, but because of Dumbledore's manipulations. He wanted to test Nick Potter; he wanted to know if he would be able to take on Voldemort when the time came.
They got through the devil's snare after getting past the dog, and through Flitwick's charmed flying keys, past the troll that was already dead to the world, then past the chess set, where Ron ended up unconscious and injured. Of course, Hermione stayed to help Ron while Nick took off on what he thought would be a heroic adventure.
He got to the last obstacle and found himself, before he knew it, in front of a mirror. Not just any mirror, but the Mirror of Erised. Nothing heroic happened; he just stood there until Dumbledore came. However, Dumbledore was sorely disappointed at not being able to save his savior from anything—nor had Nick been able to access the Stone hidden within the Mirror.
Dumbledore sighed before taking him back up to the school, past Snape and McGonagall, the latter of whom looked relieved. However, Dumbledore was far from relieved; he had known Quirrell had been hosting Voldemort, and had expected Nick to fight him. Now, the Defense Professor seemed to have disappeared, and Nick had done nothing, not even retrieved the Stone from the Mirror.
"Where is Quirrell?" asked Dumbledore in mild irritation.
"We don't know. We haven't seen him since you left," said McGonagall.
"I did tell you I suspected him," said Snape, scowling fiercely. He then headed for his personal quarters. None of his Slytherins were missing, so it had nothing to do with him, and right then, the less he had to do with the Headmaster or McGonagall, the better and happier he was...Especially when the Headmaster was meddling—no good ever came out of it.
The Leaving Feast
"Another year gone! Now, as I understand it, the House Cup needs awarding. In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and fifty points! In third place, Hufflepuff, with four hundred and ten points! Second place goes to Ravenclaw, with four hundred and ninety points! And finally, the first place winners, Slytherin House, with an outstanding five hundred points!" announced the Headmaster, and everyone in the Hall clapped for the Houses as they were named.
The Slytherins were cheering like mad, and Harry was clapping as well, happy that at least Gryffindor—and Nick—hadn't won. Also, he was proud of himself, as he had earned most of Ravenclaw's points. Well, at least he thought he had.
Sighing softly, he could hardly believe the year was already over. Now he had a whole summer of being ignored to look forward to, but hey, he did have some books he could read. Madam Pince had let him take them out; she knew his love for reading, and while they would be slightly overdue, it didn't matter that much to her as long as they were with someone who would appreciate them.
"However, some last minute House points need awarding!" shouted Dumbledore, silencing the room. "To Miss Hermione Granger, for the cool use of intellect when others around her were unable, fifty points!"
At the words, the Gryffindors became excited and cheered, while the rest of the Hall sat in stunned silence, trying to understand what was going on.
"I award Mister Ronald Weasley fifty points for the best played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many long years!"
The Gryffindors cheered louder as Percy shouted, "That's my brother!" and proudly puffed out his chest as though he could take credit for what Ron did.
"And finally, to Mister Nick Potter, for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award...sixty points!"
"We're ten points ahead of Slytherin now!" Hermione squealed, and the cheering from the Gryffindors went wild, causing the others in the Hall to wince slightly. The noise was deafening enough to send the owls flying all the way from the owlery.
When it finally died down, Dumbledore said, "Yes, yes, well done, Gryffindor, well done. It seems a change of decoration is in order." He completely ignored the looks of betrayal from everyone but the Gryffindors and McGonagall as the banners were changed to Gryffindor's.
Harry sat there, his mouth gaping, unable to believe the Headmaster had just done that. Looking at the Slytherins' and his Housemates' reactions, he smiled almost sadly, knowing how hard they had worked to get their points. While Ravenclaw wouldn't have won, anyway, for the Slytherins to be stripped of the chance of winning the Cup in seconds just before getting it was bound to suck. Also, it meant Ravenclaw was bumped down to third place, negating even an honorable mention, which was just as bad.
That night was subdued for the Slytherins, as well as the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. They thought what Dumbledore had done was wrong, literally cheating a hard-won House Cup away from its true winner. They didn't even need to look at the Slytherin table to see that, but a look at said table showed clearly the results of being cast aside in favor of the Boy-Who-Lived. They were all loyal to their friends and Housemates, but the expressions on the Slytherins' faces made them wince in sympathy. No masks could hide their hurt and anger over what Dumbledore had done. Severus Snape however, was fuming mad, and if looks could kill Dumbledore—he surely would have been dead by now.
However, for the Gryffindors, it was a different matter entirely. They didn't care how many people had been hurt, only about winning, and continued on cheering and eating the feast, enjoying their last night at Hogwarts.
-Next day-
"Come on! Get on the train, it's leavin'!" yelled Hagrid as the whistle started howling.
Harry just wished he could stay at Hogwarts forever. He could live in the Library for all he cared, it was better than going back to a family that hated him, a place where he was completely invisible. Sighing softly, he got on the train, still hurt deeply every time he saw other students with familiars—he knew he would never be able to experience that bond.
The chapter was edited by Snow Leopard Pasha - thank you so much for taking the time out of your busy day to edit this story I deeply appreciate it and so does everyone else who gets to read it without mistakes :)
* The sorting song was taken directly from the first Harry Potter book—I claim no hold over it!
** I don't think this needs saying but the paragraph was taken from the first Harry Potter book :) I just love it and always like adding it—it belongs to J.K Rowling.