A/N: Okay, here's the next chapter. I'm really sorry about the lack of
updates, but I've had some problems. Exams, going away for three weeks to
a place with no internet access (gasp), being sick for three weeks, etc.
I've even had complications from surgery!
So, yeah, to make up for it, there's two chapters posted 'stead of just one.
I can't look at the reviews right now, but here's a few responses:
To the person who said that they wanted it to be Harry/Draco, I'm sorry. I'll read it easily enough, but I don't think I could write it. Besides, they're only in their first year and that's a tad too young for any serious pairings. Draco and Harry will both be friends of a sort, however. Maybe if I decide to write a sequel, but even then I'd be inclined to stay far away from any romantic interactions at all.
To the person who said that Harry would end up good in the end, we'll see. I really like Dark! Harry fics, but this one I do think he's going to end up good. Maybe.
As another note, this will be based only loosely on the Philosopher's Stone. For starters, Voldemort has only had six years instead of ten to regain his power. For another, the Wizarding world doesn't know what Harry did. To them, he's just another war orphan; sad, but not spectacular.
Enough with the author's notes, on to the story!
~**~**~
Chapter Six
~**~**~
Harry slumped back against the comfortable cushions on the Hogwarts Express, wishing that he was anywhere but here. Sirius had refused to believe that any boy would not eagerly look forward to his seven years at the school of magic; Remus had merely told him he would be able to learn so much. Load of dung, both of them.
Keeping his abilities secret for six years had been a challenge, one which required him to play the fool and act astonished at the simplest spells. He likely knew everything that they had to offer at Hogwarts and then some; Hogwarts would never instruct its pupils in the Dark Arts.
What was he supposed to look forward to? The bonds of comradeship that always formed between the members of the same house, the prank wars and rightfully deserved detentions? Those were the body of all of Sirius' stories of his glory days, yet Harry had no interest in them. Prank wars were for children and trust was a thing for idiots.
The saddest thing of all for young Harry was that he did not miss those things. Other children his age had been affected by the war, it was almost impossible for them not to be. But not a one of them had seen or done the things Harry had or been raised the way that he had. Harry did not even know there was anything that he should miss.
However, just because he was unhappy was no reason to share his feelings with the world. Once someone knew what you were thinking, they could easily take advantage of you. It was a lesson pounded into him early on and one which he would never forget. Quickly, his the angry wrinkles in his face smoothed out and his posture straightened until he was the epitome of calmness.
Harry sat like that for several minutes before anyone entered his compartment of the train.
"Hello," a rather nervous-sounding voice greeted. "Are you a first year too?" The speaker was a timid boy with short brown hair and a clumsy look about him. "My name's Neville."
Harry did not respond, just gazed coolly at the intruder in his compartment. Neville made a scared squeak and rushed to apologize. "I'm sorry, I guess you aren't a first year, but you're short and I just thought that-" The boy scurried out of the compartment and into the hallway with no more rambling.
It was not long before an older girl approached him. "Move out of the way, you idiotic firstie. This compartment's off limits to little brats."
"Make me move," he offered in a flat voice, gazing up at her with a hard edge to his eyes. "If you can."
"Why you little. It's going to be bad for you, I dare say." She whipped out a rather short wand and flipped her black hair over one shoulder dramatically. "Krakenula!" she shouted.
Harry did not even blink but the spell whizzed back at her, caching her full in the face and causing small squid-like tentacles to appear. With a horrid shriek as she felt the tentacles tickling her face, she retreated into the safety of the corridor.
Harry heaved an inward sigh, wondering if there would ever be an end to the annoying deluge of students trying to pour into space already claimed as his.
After another few minutes a boy his age with an aristocratic sneer and pale blond hair arrived with two muscular children flanking him like bodyguards. "You look just like your father," Harry commented, crossing his arms behind his head casually. "I expect that you're to be a Death Eater just like him."
"What do you know of it? My father has a very high rank in the Ministry of Magic and some lowly Muggle like you couldn't possibly know him." The younger Malfoy's face was a perfect condenscending grin, complete with a sassy shake of his head.
"I am not a Muggle or a Mudblood, unlike your Dark Lord, and I know your father was a Death Eater."
"Just who do you think you are, the Minister of Magic?"
"Like I would want to be an idiot like him. Harry Potter." His lips slowly sank into a self-satisfied grin as the expression on Malfoy's face grew incredulous.
"But. Potter followed the Dark Lord! My father told me so!" Malfoy argued heatedly, trying to pretend that he was not confused.
"And you just proved that your father was a Death Eater. Good bye." The compartment door slid close with a resounding bang as Harry moved his hand.
As he thought about it, he really should not have used wandless magic in front of four people. Well, at least the girl would not easily admit that a first year had cursed her and the Malfoy incident could be explained away as a sudden jerk of the train. He settle back against the cushions comfortably, unaware of the heated whispers whirling around the train like miniature dust storms around him.
~**~**~
"Have you seen my toad?"
"No, I haven't, but have you checked that compartment over there?"
"I wouldn't go in there if I were you."
"Why ever not?"
"The boy in there is just terrible; he didn't say a word to me but I swore that he was going to kill me!"
~**~**~
"Who did this to you Sarah?"
"I'd rather not say."
"Come on, it can't be that embarrassing."
"It was a first year."
"What?"
"Some little first year. He looks more like a nine year old. He didn't even say anything or move, just did this to me. He's such a monster."
~**~**~
"Who are you writing to?"
"Father."
Why? We're only halfway to Hogwarts; you can't have something to tell him yet."
"Potter's here, on the train."
"Potter? You must be joking."
"I'm not. He's scary, and I don't think his loyalties are where they should be."
"Harry Potter, a traitor? Did you ever see him when you went with your father?"
"Of course I did. Something odd's happened to him, and father has to know about it."
~**~**~
"Have you heard about that first year?"
"No, what of him?"
"Everyone's saying that he cast Dark curses and talks on about all the Death Eaters he's ever known. The kid's evil for sure."
~**~**~
The train ride was over before it even seemed to begin, and the first years were escorted to their boat ride across the lake by a giant of a man with an uneducated accent. Harry despised him immediately.
"Firs' years, o'er 'ere!" his deep voice boomed. He had a rather scraggly brown beard beneath two gargantuan lips upon a head almost half as tall as Harry. The giant ushered the first years into a small fleet of boats, four to each, and led them across the lake, pointing out Hogwarts when it first appeared around a corner, as if the huge castle would be possible to miss.
A long set of stone stairs later, they were led into a large entrance hall, where a severe-looking witch with her graying hair tightly pulled into a bun beneath her old-fashioned hat greeted them sincerely.
"Welcome to Hogwarts. If you will wait but a moment in here, You will soon be led into the Great Hall for your sorting." She pointed towards a spare room that the new students filed into.
As soon as she left them alone, the kids burst into nervous mutterings, discussing the pros and cons of the various Houses.
"Ravenclaw is for the smart ones, so I won't be sorted into there. I'm likely a Hufflepurr."
"I can only be in Gryffindor. All my family have been."
"I don't want Slytherin. Everyone knows how everyone in that house turns out. I'd much rather be a Ravenclaw. I've got the brains."
"I never even knew there was such a thing as magic 'til I got my letter. I hope I'm in Gryffindor; it sounds by far the best."
Harry sneered at this last, marking the bushy-haired girl down as a Mudblood. He would take pains to not associate with her or any of the other lesser students.
"Follow me," the prim professor said over the din of the students, gathering their attention quickly. The group of forty or so was led down between two long house tables where the older years with mixed looks of curiosity and boredom. The professor, who Harry remembered had introduced as McGonagall, sat a stool and a rickety hat in the center of the raised platform that the students were crowded onto and then waited patiently.
Presently, the hat began to sing, listing out the various attributes of each House. He figured that it did not matter if he listened or not; the hat would make the same decision no matter what.
McGonagall then began to call out names. Harry paid almost no attention, rather apathetic to the whole situation. He did note, however, when the Mudblood was sorted into Gryffindor and the Malfoy was placed in Slytherin, neither of which really surprised him.
"Potter, Harry!" Quite a few of the older Slytherins shot him surprised or expectant looks as he walked slowly forward to place the Sorting Hat on his head.
He did so, hoping that the hat would not decide he belonged in Slytherin. Or Gryffindor. Definitely not Hufflepuff. Even Ravenclaw would be terrible.
~**~**~
So, yeah, to make up for it, there's two chapters posted 'stead of just one.
I can't look at the reviews right now, but here's a few responses:
To the person who said that they wanted it to be Harry/Draco, I'm sorry. I'll read it easily enough, but I don't think I could write it. Besides, they're only in their first year and that's a tad too young for any serious pairings. Draco and Harry will both be friends of a sort, however. Maybe if I decide to write a sequel, but even then I'd be inclined to stay far away from any romantic interactions at all.
To the person who said that Harry would end up good in the end, we'll see. I really like Dark! Harry fics, but this one I do think he's going to end up good. Maybe.
As another note, this will be based only loosely on the Philosopher's Stone. For starters, Voldemort has only had six years instead of ten to regain his power. For another, the Wizarding world doesn't know what Harry did. To them, he's just another war orphan; sad, but not spectacular.
Enough with the author's notes, on to the story!
~**~**~
Chapter Six
~**~**~
Harry slumped back against the comfortable cushions on the Hogwarts Express, wishing that he was anywhere but here. Sirius had refused to believe that any boy would not eagerly look forward to his seven years at the school of magic; Remus had merely told him he would be able to learn so much. Load of dung, both of them.
Keeping his abilities secret for six years had been a challenge, one which required him to play the fool and act astonished at the simplest spells. He likely knew everything that they had to offer at Hogwarts and then some; Hogwarts would never instruct its pupils in the Dark Arts.
What was he supposed to look forward to? The bonds of comradeship that always formed between the members of the same house, the prank wars and rightfully deserved detentions? Those were the body of all of Sirius' stories of his glory days, yet Harry had no interest in them. Prank wars were for children and trust was a thing for idiots.
The saddest thing of all for young Harry was that he did not miss those things. Other children his age had been affected by the war, it was almost impossible for them not to be. But not a one of them had seen or done the things Harry had or been raised the way that he had. Harry did not even know there was anything that he should miss.
However, just because he was unhappy was no reason to share his feelings with the world. Once someone knew what you were thinking, they could easily take advantage of you. It was a lesson pounded into him early on and one which he would never forget. Quickly, his the angry wrinkles in his face smoothed out and his posture straightened until he was the epitome of calmness.
Harry sat like that for several minutes before anyone entered his compartment of the train.
"Hello," a rather nervous-sounding voice greeted. "Are you a first year too?" The speaker was a timid boy with short brown hair and a clumsy look about him. "My name's Neville."
Harry did not respond, just gazed coolly at the intruder in his compartment. Neville made a scared squeak and rushed to apologize. "I'm sorry, I guess you aren't a first year, but you're short and I just thought that-" The boy scurried out of the compartment and into the hallway with no more rambling.
It was not long before an older girl approached him. "Move out of the way, you idiotic firstie. This compartment's off limits to little brats."
"Make me move," he offered in a flat voice, gazing up at her with a hard edge to his eyes. "If you can."
"Why you little. It's going to be bad for you, I dare say." She whipped out a rather short wand and flipped her black hair over one shoulder dramatically. "Krakenula!" she shouted.
Harry did not even blink but the spell whizzed back at her, caching her full in the face and causing small squid-like tentacles to appear. With a horrid shriek as she felt the tentacles tickling her face, she retreated into the safety of the corridor.
Harry heaved an inward sigh, wondering if there would ever be an end to the annoying deluge of students trying to pour into space already claimed as his.
After another few minutes a boy his age with an aristocratic sneer and pale blond hair arrived with two muscular children flanking him like bodyguards. "You look just like your father," Harry commented, crossing his arms behind his head casually. "I expect that you're to be a Death Eater just like him."
"What do you know of it? My father has a very high rank in the Ministry of Magic and some lowly Muggle like you couldn't possibly know him." The younger Malfoy's face was a perfect condenscending grin, complete with a sassy shake of his head.
"I am not a Muggle or a Mudblood, unlike your Dark Lord, and I know your father was a Death Eater."
"Just who do you think you are, the Minister of Magic?"
"Like I would want to be an idiot like him. Harry Potter." His lips slowly sank into a self-satisfied grin as the expression on Malfoy's face grew incredulous.
"But. Potter followed the Dark Lord! My father told me so!" Malfoy argued heatedly, trying to pretend that he was not confused.
"And you just proved that your father was a Death Eater. Good bye." The compartment door slid close with a resounding bang as Harry moved his hand.
As he thought about it, he really should not have used wandless magic in front of four people. Well, at least the girl would not easily admit that a first year had cursed her and the Malfoy incident could be explained away as a sudden jerk of the train. He settle back against the cushions comfortably, unaware of the heated whispers whirling around the train like miniature dust storms around him.
~**~**~
"Have you seen my toad?"
"No, I haven't, but have you checked that compartment over there?"
"I wouldn't go in there if I were you."
"Why ever not?"
"The boy in there is just terrible; he didn't say a word to me but I swore that he was going to kill me!"
~**~**~
"Who did this to you Sarah?"
"I'd rather not say."
"Come on, it can't be that embarrassing."
"It was a first year."
"What?"
"Some little first year. He looks more like a nine year old. He didn't even say anything or move, just did this to me. He's such a monster."
~**~**~
"Who are you writing to?"
"Father."
Why? We're only halfway to Hogwarts; you can't have something to tell him yet."
"Potter's here, on the train."
"Potter? You must be joking."
"I'm not. He's scary, and I don't think his loyalties are where they should be."
"Harry Potter, a traitor? Did you ever see him when you went with your father?"
"Of course I did. Something odd's happened to him, and father has to know about it."
~**~**~
"Have you heard about that first year?"
"No, what of him?"
"Everyone's saying that he cast Dark curses and talks on about all the Death Eaters he's ever known. The kid's evil for sure."
~**~**~
The train ride was over before it even seemed to begin, and the first years were escorted to their boat ride across the lake by a giant of a man with an uneducated accent. Harry despised him immediately.
"Firs' years, o'er 'ere!" his deep voice boomed. He had a rather scraggly brown beard beneath two gargantuan lips upon a head almost half as tall as Harry. The giant ushered the first years into a small fleet of boats, four to each, and led them across the lake, pointing out Hogwarts when it first appeared around a corner, as if the huge castle would be possible to miss.
A long set of stone stairs later, they were led into a large entrance hall, where a severe-looking witch with her graying hair tightly pulled into a bun beneath her old-fashioned hat greeted them sincerely.
"Welcome to Hogwarts. If you will wait but a moment in here, You will soon be led into the Great Hall for your sorting." She pointed towards a spare room that the new students filed into.
As soon as she left them alone, the kids burst into nervous mutterings, discussing the pros and cons of the various Houses.
"Ravenclaw is for the smart ones, so I won't be sorted into there. I'm likely a Hufflepurr."
"I can only be in Gryffindor. All my family have been."
"I don't want Slytherin. Everyone knows how everyone in that house turns out. I'd much rather be a Ravenclaw. I've got the brains."
"I never even knew there was such a thing as magic 'til I got my letter. I hope I'm in Gryffindor; it sounds by far the best."
Harry sneered at this last, marking the bushy-haired girl down as a Mudblood. He would take pains to not associate with her or any of the other lesser students.
"Follow me," the prim professor said over the din of the students, gathering their attention quickly. The group of forty or so was led down between two long house tables where the older years with mixed looks of curiosity and boredom. The professor, who Harry remembered had introduced as McGonagall, sat a stool and a rickety hat in the center of the raised platform that the students were crowded onto and then waited patiently.
Presently, the hat began to sing, listing out the various attributes of each House. He figured that it did not matter if he listened or not; the hat would make the same decision no matter what.
McGonagall then began to call out names. Harry paid almost no attention, rather apathetic to the whole situation. He did note, however, when the Mudblood was sorted into Gryffindor and the Malfoy was placed in Slytherin, neither of which really surprised him.
"Potter, Harry!" Quite a few of the older Slytherins shot him surprised or expectant looks as he walked slowly forward to place the Sorting Hat on his head.
He did so, hoping that the hat would not decide he belonged in Slytherin. Or Gryffindor. Definitely not Hufflepuff. Even Ravenclaw would be terrible.
~**~**~