Invisible

Chapter 8

The Summer, Then Back At Hogwarts—Year Two


"Nick's exam results will be coming soon, James. It's so exiting! I bet he did the best in his class!" said Lily, beaming with pride. She thought so much of her son; she didn't realize just how blinded she was.

"Of course he did. I'm going to train him, he needs to know more about Quidditch. The more practice he gets, the better he will be," said James, also beaming with pride.

Harry walked in just in time to hear those comments and rolled his eyes. His parents were talking about Nick again. It was just a shame no one really cared about or looked at him. As soon as they saw it wasn't Nick, he was looked down on, then not spoken too.

Harry started making a sandwich for himself. It was just after dinner time, but Harry hadn't eaten much.

"What are you doing? We just had dinner," said Lily. She didn't want her children getting fat, especially not her failure of a son, Harry.

"I didn't have much dinner, I'm hungry," said Harry softly.

"Well go hungry, then, and go to your room! The next time, you had better ask," said Lily angrily.

"MUM, I'M HUNGRY! I'VE JUST FINISHED ALL MY HOMEWORK!" yelled Nick as he came into the kitchen.

"Here," said Lily, giving Nick Harry's sandwich.

Harry's jaw dropped. How could she do that? Nick had eaten most of the food at the table, and now he was getting Harry's sandwich! Scowling, he walked away, in a worse mood than ever. Already, he was counting down the days until he went back to Hogwarts. He had read the Prince's book again, though he dared not try any of the spells after what the one spell had done to the troll. Every time he thought of it, he shuddered over what it could do to a human being.

He wondered what his parents would think of his grades and hoped he had done better than his brother. More than anything, he wanted his parents' love, he wanted them to be proud of him and stop ignoring him. While he had a feeling it was never going to happen, he just had to feel hope that one day, he would be seen, heard, and spoken to by his family. He dreamed many dreams of them being proud of him, only to wake up to reality.

Going up to his room, he put all his first year books on his shelf along with all the other books he had collected over the years. His journal, though, stayed in his trunk along with his school clothes, as he didn't want them nosing around in it. During the year at Hogwarts, he had spelled it so only he or someone he allowed could read it but he didn't know if the spells would hold so he wasn't taking any chances.


"His results are here!" cheered Lily a few days later as they sat down for breakfast. Nick looked proud, Roxy was exited, and Harry was a little hopeful.

"Open them!" exclaimed James.

"In first place, there is—" began Lily excitedly, but when she saw who it was, her face fell.

"What is it, love?" asked James.

"Hermione Granger, she's first place," said Lily, looking like she had just had the wind knocked out of her. Nick looked a little sick as Harry and Roxy blinked in surprise.

"Ah well, who has second place?" asked James. Perhaps his son had come second.

"Harry," answered Lily, looking confused. How had her other son done so well?

"Third?" asked James. His son better be on the top three at least! Harry didn't count, as they knew he wasn't that good and was just an attention-seeker. No one saw Harry's face fall, as they were too interested in all the other results.

"Draco Malfoy," said Lily, looking sad.

"His marks are probably set. Lucius Malfoy has the money to do it!" stated James angrily.

"Yeah," agreed Lily, not cheering up in the slightest.

"So how well did Nick do?" asked James. Nick and Roxy waited attentively.

"Let me see..." murmured Lily, reading the list. It was in order from the highest grade to the lowest by year. "He's half way down, number fifty-nine." She looked hurt, and Nick looked confused.

"I don't understand why he's so far down. He's a good wizard!" said James.

"Ronald Weasley is right next to him...Ah, that's what it is! Ron is distracting him," said Lily definitively.

"Yes, that's it. Nick, you'll have to stop playing around with Ron, and if you aren't further up next year, you'll be sent to a different school or home schooled," said James seriously to his favorite son.

"What? Why? I like Ron," said Nick, pouting.

"Fine, but if you're still this low next year, you're out of Hogwarts," replied Lily. She knew her son could do better than this.

"Okay, Mum, I'll do better, I promise. I was so distracted with the whole Voldemort thing," answered Nick sadly.

"Of course! That's what it was! Oh, Nick, we are so sorry. We won't ask you to leave Hogwarts again. Next year, you'll be the best, won't you?" asked Lily happily, hugging her son now that she had a good reason for his low grades.

"Of course, Mother," said Nick, smiling at her.

"I'm going to bed, goodnight," said Harry suddenly, pushing away from the table. He ran to his room, opened his journal and began writing furiously. Tears didn't fall; he hadn't cried in a long time. Still, life was so unfair.

Journal Entry

Our results just came, but instead of reading them for the actual results, they just wanted to see how good he was compared to everyone else. I came second, Nick came fifty-ninth. He used the excuse about Voldemort and the stupid stone; they didn't even bother about my results. I didn't even get a well done—they didn't even acknowledge me.

I feel so sick and alone, I really don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how much longer I can stay in this house. I just want to die sometimes...Would they even notice? Not until they smelt my rotten corpse they wouldn't. I hate NICK! I HATE MY PARENTS I HATE THEM SO MUCH!

I hate that I get hurt every time they do it, too. Why do I keep deceiving myself? I always know what's going to happen, yet I just let it. I have to stop caring, but how? How do I stop wanting my parents' approval? I wished I was adopted, I wish I had a different family. Any family would be better than this one. I hate my life...

Harry


Harry had Flooed to Hogsmeade one day, unable to stand being in the Manor anymore. The night before, he had seen Nick and Roxy getting kisses and cuddles before bed, and it had made him realize how unloved he was. They hadn't done that to him for years. He spent his day wandering around, until he got to a newly opened corner shop run by a black haired woman. It sold newspapers, sweets, and everything else a person might need, from toilet rolls to bird seed. Just then he saw an advert for a paperboy or girl. It had different delivery routes, in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. Inspiration struck Harry immediately, a job meant money, and money meant getting away from his family sooner. He might even be able to save up for the kind of job he really wanted one day.

"Excuse me! Are you still looking for someone to deliver newspapers, Ma'am?" asked Harry politely.

"Yes we are, dear," said the woman nicely. "Are you interested?"

"Maybe. Can you tell me more about it?" asked the boy curiously.

"There are six slots, actually. There are morning and evening weekday routes here in Hogsmeade, morning and evening weekday routes in Diagon Alley, and the weekend routes in both Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. I counted them separately because the weekend routes require many more papers to be delivered than the weekday ones," explained the woman.

"How much for each?" asked Harry thoughtfully.

"Twenty-five Galleons weekly for each route, and fifty for each weekend route, dear," she said. It was a lot of money, but then again, it was a load of newspapers to be delivered all around Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. The places weren't as small as they looked to shoppers or people who didn't live in them.

"How many of them are taken already?" asked Harry.

"Unfortunately, none so far," sighed the woman.

"I would love all the jobs, please!" smiled the boy.

"Are you sure, dear? I mean, it's a lot to do for a child your age! Speaking of which, how old are you?" she asked. Could it really be that she'd found someone to deliver the papers for her?

"Thirteen, Ma'am," lied Harry smoothly.

"Hm…very well, the jobs are yours. If you want to start today then you are most welcome. What's your name?" asked the woman.

"I would like that, but I'll need a map until I get familiar with the areas. My name is Harry," said Harry, knowing he didn't know his way around Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade properly—he only knew the shops, not the houses.

"Very well, you will be paid at the end of every week, which is Friday for me. You would have needed a map, regardless, so you knew which homes to deliver the paper to, so I'll have one for you with each stack to be delivered," smiled the woman.

"I'll take it for sure. Can I get the papers for this morning, or do I start with the evening paper today?" asked Harry, suddenly hyper with the thought of getting his own money.

"Sure, it's the evening paper today—you'll have to come at five in the morning for the morning paper. They're already bundled and over there," explained the woman as she pointed to a corner where stacks of papers sat. "I've been using owls, but they weren't happy with the amount they had to carry."

"Well, they can be happy, because now I'll deliver them," said Harry.

"Good, off you go, then," she said, helping him gather the papers so he could deliver them.


"So, how did it go? Find everything all right?" she asked, watching the flushed child come in three hours later.

"Yes, I found every door. It's not as hard as I thought," said Harry softly.

"So you still want the job then?" asked the woman curiously.

"Of course," agreed Harry.

"Then be here at five to deliver the morning papers," said the woman.

"I will be! Goodnight," smiled Harry, heading away.

"Goodbye," answered the woman.


That was what Harry did for the rest of the summer. Delivering newspapers meant he was awake before everyone else and back in his room before everyone else, also. He had lots of his own money; this was his freedom, and once he had enough, he was leaving. He knew enough about Muggles to live among them. They would never think to look in the Muggle world for him. He was finally satisfied, and better yet, he was—almost—free.

He was still going to go to Hogwarts, he just wouldn't go home after school. He wasn't spending another day with the Potters, as it was clear they didn't want him, and he doubted they would realize he was missing, anyways. They would just be glad he was gone if they did realize it. He would lie to them and tell them he was staying at a friend's house.

Eileen, the woman who ran the newspaper routes and convenience shop, was grateful for Harry. He not only delivered the papers, but helped her re-stock the shelves, as well. Eileen was getting too old to keep up with everything since it hadn't been as easy as she first thought to get an income. Harry was such a nice little boy, and he had done wonders for Eileen's life, making it so much easier, even if it was something as simple as stocking the shelves. She didn't have much magic, unfortunately, what with all the inbreeding going on in Pureblood families. It was the main reason she had gone away to the Muggle world in the first place. Now, though, she had come back to her rightful world. Her son couldn't have been happier about that! He just hated going to see her in the Muggle world, so closed off from the world she belonged in.

Harry was soon sitting behind the counter for her for a few hours while she had a rest and put her feet up. No one recognized him, and no one played him second to Nick Potter, his brother. Harry was finally happy, and that's all that mattered to him.

As predicted his family didn't even realize he was going anywhere.


School was starting up once again, and Harry still didn't have a familiar. However, he was saving up any money he could get beyond what he needed to leave the wizarding world. He didn't get pocket money from his family even if Nick did. His money had been put into his vault, and he now owned one of his very own no one could get into. The key was safely around his neck at all times since he didn't want anything to happen to it...Not that anyone would be able to get into his vault, anyway.

He was also very unhappy about the selection of books he had. They had been, to his disgust, Gilderoy Lockhart books. The books were somewhat unbelievable; no one man could ever do everything that man was saying he could do, therefore, he was a fraud. Well, that was what Harry thought, anyways, but nobody cared what he thought.

"Get a move on! We're going now if we want to catch the Hogwarts Express!" yelled James up the stairs.

Harry dragged his trunk down, which was very heavy—his parents hadn't even levitated his trunk for him. Sighing softly, he wondered again why it was always him ignored. He had done nothing to deserve it. He didn't want to be left behind this year or to miss another year on the train.

These days, Harry had given up hope, the hope of being loved and of his parents approving of him. He had even given up hope that all his teachers and the other students would see him, not just look at him once before admiring his brother. No one ever really spoke to him, not for HIM, anyway, only to ask about his brother. Well, he was being a little unfair in that, as a few of the teachers paid just as much attention to him as they did to everyone else, like Professor Flitwick, and he even had a few tentative (though not 'close' by any stretch of the imagination) friends in Ravenclaw. Still, he didn't have any real friends, and very little to look forward to at school—but it was still better than at home, especially since his food intake had been cut back at the start of summer.

"Okay, everyone grab the Portkey!" ordered James as he held out an old glove. Lily, Roxy, Nick, and Harry all grabbed a different finger of the glove, and shortly after, they were standing in King's Cross, in a hidden arrival area for witches and wizards to Portkey in at. "We're busy and can't take you to the Hogwarts Express, so you'll need to go yourself," said James to Nick once they had moved out of the Portkey arrival zone.

"Dad, please come!" whined Nick.

"I can't. I'm very busy. Now go, before you miss the train," said James, hugging his son goodbye.

Harry sighed softly before going towards the barrier; once he was through, he climbed onto the train, dragging his trunk. He was bumped into, and much to his agitation, mistaken for his brother again!

"Hey Nic…Sorry, wrong person!" said the person, realizing it wasn't Nick.

"It's fine," said Harry softly, and the person walked away. Shaking his head, he took his trunk and sat down in an empty compartment. It wasn't fine, but it was best just to keep that to himself.

"Can I sit here?" asked a chubby boy.

"Yeah, sure," agreed Harry.

"You don't have to sit there, Nev! Come along with us, Nick will be here soon!" said Seamus, one of the people who shared a dorm with Nick and Ronald Weasley, as well as the chubby boy, Neville Longbottom.

"Okay, thanks. Bye, I guess," said Neville, shutting the door and joining Seamus.


"It can't go! Nick's not here!" said Seamus outside Harry's door.

"Well, his brother is here so he might be still looking for us," answered Dean.

"Yeah...Come on, then, let's sit down," agreed Seamus, shrugging.

Harry heard the door slamming closed just next door.

"We're nearly at Hogwarts! Let's get our uniforms on!" grinned Seamus.

"Yeah, but I wonder where Nick is," mused Dean.

"Dunno, just hope he is alright," said Seamus.

"He will be—he's the hero of the wizarding world, after all," shrugged Neville.

"Yeah," said Dean and Seamus, agreeing immediately.


They were entering Hogwarts before they knew it, and Harry wasn't worried about his brother. He sat eating a big meal at the Ravenclaw table, enjoying being back at Hogwarts. He knew it would be another boring year, as he already knew everything in the second year books. Well, he knew everything in the fifth year books, never mind second year.

"Welcome, welcome to another year at Hogwarts," said the Headmaster, his arms spread wide to welcome each and every one of them.

The Sorting lasted what felt like ages, and many noticed Nick and Ron weren't there. Harry watched everything, just like every Ravenclaw. Sighing softly, he licked his lips when the food arrived.

"I have new teachers to introduce to you…First, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart," said Dumbledore. Wild applause spread though the Great Hall. "We also have a new Potions teacher and new Head of Slytherin House, Professor Colin Reese," continued the Headmaster. Another round of wild applause broke out across the Hall, louder than ever. "Professor Snape has decided he would rather work on his potions, so has retired from teaching. We wish him the best of luck in his work. Now, let's eat," smiled the old wizard as they all sat down.

Excited chatter broke out across three of the four House tables, but the Slytherins were sitting there stunned. They had a new Head of House? Had Professor Snape left or had he been hurt?

Albus had tried to get Severus to come back, but Severus wanted to concentrate on his potions. He had spoken the truth; he was close to a breakthrough on the Wolfsbane Potion. Plus, Severus really couldn't stand Nick Potter for some reason. With no way to convince him (even reminding him Voldemort would be back didn't work), he'd had no choice but to find another Potions Professor and Head of Slytherin House. Severus was always good at making up stories, so no doubt he would be able to spin a good yarn to Voldemort when he was back.

Later that night, two hundred points had been added to the Gryffindor hourglass. He heard through the Patil twins that Nick and Ron got points for productive thinking. They had ridden an enchanted car to school; needless to say, no House was happy other than Gryffindor. With one House starting the year two hundred points ahead of everyone else, it would be hard to catch up. The others might never have a chance to win now, and it just wasn't fair at all, Patil had said.

Silently, Harry agreed.


That year, Harry was privileged with the blame when Mrs. Norris was found petrified and hanging by her tail in the corridor, a message written in blood on the wall behind the cat. All because he had been going to the Library instead of the Feast—he had, after all, felt a little sick.

"That's not fair, Sir…I was only on my way to the Library!" protested Harry.

"Hm...Very well. Off you go," allowed Dumbledore.

Despite Dumbledore letting him off, the students didn't, and he was glared at all year. He had been attacked quite a few times, too.

As though that wasn't bad enough, another thing was wrong, too—Professor Reese hated him. His new Potions teacher took every opportunity he could to make him feel two inches tall. At first, Harry hadn't realized just how much the man hated him, until he saw his mark gradually begin to drop. He knew he wasn't doing anything wrong; it was like Reese had the alternate attitude from Snape.

"Wrong color Potter, failed!" said Reese, clearing his potion away before anything further could be said or done. This wasn't the first time it had happened, either.

The more Harry continued to stay silent, the more Reese got furious at him. He hated the fact that he couldn't get a rise out of the boy, so his 'game' continued, finding whatever excuse he could to target him. Reese was just a jealous man because Harry was able to produce a better potion than even him. He was the Potions Master, yet a boy was capable of creating a potion that out-did his. He couldn't stand for it, so the vicious cycle continued, and Harry…

Why, Harry stayed silent. He knew complaining wouldn't help him any.


The Quidditch match went off without a hitch. There were no real messes and the Gryffindors lost dismally. The Slytherins won the match no problem at all; Draco Malfoy had been made Seeker of the Slytherin team. Not only had he joined, but he had got everyone on his team Nimbus 2001's (or his father had).

Despite all the training James had given Nick, he was still nowhere near good enough. Draco Malfoy had been preening like a peacock since then, as everyone but the Gryffindors loved him for taking out Nick Potter. The Gryffindors, on the other hand, were losing their patience with the Boy-Who-Lived. In fact, Harry had overheard them stating they were thinking about kicking him off the team. Harry couldn't wait for that day, but he doubted McGonagall would allow it to happen.

Harry had seen the sign-up sheet for those who wanted to play Quidditch on the bulletin board by the door in Ravenclaw Tower. He had been tempted to—boy, that was putting it mildly. In the end, he had decided against it, not wanting to get a Howler. He would have loved to have beat Nick and wiped the smug smile from James and Lily's faces.

It had been some time since he'd called them by their proper titles. They weren't Mother and Father to him, and they certainly weren't Mum and Dad. He never wrote home, and they never wrote to him, and that—sadly—was just fine. It seemed the question he had asked his journal had finally been answered. He had finally stopped caring about what they thought, and it had been a long time coming.


Lockhart and Flitwick dueled first at the Dueling Club, with Flitwick firing one 'Expelliarmus' curse that not only knocked the wand from the fake's hand, but knocked him to the other side of the class as well. Harry had been the only one not a Slytherin boy laughing at it; it had been one of the most hilarious sights he'd seen in his twelve years of life. As far as cheerful thoughts he needed to make himself happy on bad days went, that one was joining the vision of the Sorting Hat spouting arms and legs and running away. Unfortunately, bad days were happening more and more often.

Flitwick had warned Lockhart not to pair Harry and Nick, but the warning only made Lockhart want to see them duel all the more. Harry and Nick began to curse each other, and with a smirk, Nick fired once more and a large snake appeared in the middle of the dueling table, sliding towards Harry.

Flitwick turned to glare at Lockhart, who blushed. The snake forgot about Harry and dived for a gasping, terrified Justin Finch-Fletchley. Harry shouted for the snake to stop and it did, yet everyone turned to stare at Harry in fear. Slowly the snake came far enough away from Justin for Flitwick to vanish safely. Everyone left the room mumbling about Harry being dark now. Even his brother was moving away, looking at him in fear as well, like Voldemort was standing behind him.

Rolling his eyes in confused irritation, he wondered what made everyone look at him like that. With a growl of annoyance, Harry braced himself for the months of rumors and accusations which were sure to come. He wasn't wrong, of course—Harry knew better than to think anyone would suspect anyone else. He was probably the only one apart from Granger who didn't have any friends in the entire school, as even the tentative ones he'd had weren't there anymore since the petrified cat incident.

None of that prevented him from hearing the rumors. By listening to the rumors, he realized he had spoken Parseltongue, snake language. It had sounded English to him; he wondered how long it would take for his parents to find out.

As it turned out, he didn't need to wait long, and only five hours after he spoke it, James' owl was pecking at his window in Ravenclaw Tower.

Harry,

Nick has just told us you can speak snake language. I want you to know I'm extremely disappointed in you.

Every year, there is always something, like getting sorted into Ravenclaw! No Potter has ever been Sorted anywhere other than Gryffindor bar you. We hadn't said anything then because we got no complaints from the teachers, but now I supposed I should just be grateful it wasn't Slytherin. Though, given your newly discovered "talent", I'm surprised you're not. Then there was showing up your brother by getting better grades when you know very well what your brother was going through trying to fight Voldemort.

Now you can speak Parseltongue.

When you come home for the summer, you are to go straight to your room. You will stay in there; I will get Lily to send food up to your room since we don't want to see you. Poor Roxy is utterly mortified, as are your mother and I! Do you know what this could do to Nick's reputation? If this backlashes on us, you'll be out on your backside.

Dad

Harry couldn't believe the nerve of James to actually sign it 'Dad'. He wasn't his father, he was just a man in his life who continued to mock and reprimand him no matter what he did. Nothing was good enough for the likes of James or Lily Potter. Just wait until it was revealed he was the real Boy-Who-Lived! They would regret the day they had decided to ignore him for his brother, he would ensure it!


Around the school, people—and even a ghost—turned up petrified and were taken to the medical ward. Among them were the ghost of Gryffindor, Nearly Headless Nick (or Sir Nicholas, as he preferred), a boy named Colin Creevey, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hermione Granger, and a fifth year Gryffindor named Penelope Clearwater. Nick had gotten everyone's attention and sympathy by saying he had been talking to Colin not five minutes before he was petrified.

When Harry heard Nick's story and the following sympathy, he had just snorted and kept walking. He was an outcast in his own school and he hated it. Since he had spoken to the snake, he had received two broken bones, five cutting curses, and goodness knows how many bumps and bruises. They all looked at him like was about to kill them all, like he was Lord Voldemort back from the dead.

Despite the petrifaction, Quidditch continued. Ravenclaw beat Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, but failed to beat Slytherin for the Quidditch Cup, so the Cup belonged to the Slytherins again that year.


HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER

"Oh my! What has happened?" asked Minerva. It was the first thing Harry heard from the corner he had been about to turn.

"It looks like a student has been taken...Poor girl..." murmured Sprout sadly.

"Lockhart, check my Gryffindors, and Filius, Pomona, and Colin, check that everyone in your Houses is accounted for. Come back here immediately afterwards with news on anyone not accounted for," said McGonagall, looking pale and shaken. It was happening again, the Chamber was truly open, she could feel it. When she had been at school, a student had died, but what most people didn't realize was that Myrtle had been her classmate when she attended school. Not her Housemate, but a classmate, as Myrtle had been a Muggle-born Sorted into Slytherin. She, Minerva McGonagall, had been a Gryffindor just like her mother before her.

Harry watched everything wide eyed and silently; it took five minutes before everyone began returning.

"All Gryffindors accounted for!" beamed Lockhart, happy to have finished his task.

"All of my Hufflepuffs are accounted for!" said Sprout, looking greatly relieved.

"The Slytherins are all present and accounted for," said Reese.

"Are you sure all my Gryffindors are in the Tower?" asked McGonagall. Trusting Lockheart the least out of them all, she immediately called him up, wondering if he made a mistake—which she dearly hoped wasn't the case, since it was her Gryffindors they were talking about here.

"Yes, all fifty-nine," affirmed Lockhart.

McGonagall paled drastically. "There isn't fifty nine; my Gryffindor head count is sixty!" Lockhart's eyes widened in horror.

"Professors, Professors, Professors!" shouted Filch, running up to them.

"Yes?" asked Sprout, seeing that McGonagall wasn't going to speak.

"A few of the portraits told me that boy, Ronald Weasley, says his sister's missing. Percy Weasley is trying to get out of the Gryffindor common room to find her," said Filch.

"What does this mean?" asked Sprout gravely.

"That Hogwarts will shut down…" said Minerva sadly.


Harry didn't know why he was playing the hero, but he was the only one able to do it—obviously no one really cared he was missing...Then again, Flitwick hadn't come back yet. Well, Hogwarts was still better than 'home', so he went to the second floor girl's bathroom, a place he had seen Ginny entering not even an hour ago. He looked around, but found nothing. He was about to leave when something green glinted out of the corner of his eyes. Turning around, he noticed the picture of a snake on the sink's tap.

"Open," hissed Harry, blinking as the sink opened up to show a deep, dark, gross tunnel. Once again, he briefly wondered why he was saving the school, then remembered he would rather be at Hogwarts than home with his so-called family all next year. The Library alone was enough reason for him wanting to save the school. It's where he spent the majority of his time. Madam Pince really liked him and he was actually glad for that. At least someone around here actually bloody did.

Jumping into the tunnel, he slid down it to the bottom, where he landed hard on things which crunched. They turned out to be bones of rodents and things littering a huge tunnel which led to another snake-themed gate, beyond which was a large room filled with water, snake pillars holding up the ceiling, and a statue of what he assumed was Salazar Slytherin. Once he got there, he noticed something was wrong—Ginny's body lay cold on the ground—and he found out what quick enough. The specter, he noticed, was Tom Marvolo Riddle, AKA Lord Voldemort. For some reason Tom kept calling him Nick Potter, a misconception he didn't bother to correct, and asking why he had survived when the almighty Lord Voldemort hadn't.

In the end, he had been forced to fight the gigantic snake, thankful for Fawkes' help. The Sorting Hat he'd thought at first that he could have done without, until the legendary artifact, Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem, came out of it. Putting it on, he felt immediately more confident and smarter, with a greater knowledge of when, where, and how to use some very powerful spells. He began firing spells into the Basilisk's mouth whenever it opened—the only weak spot the creature had.

"Bombarda!" cursed Harry, moving to avoid the large serpent, which continued to follow him. Its eyes may be plucked out; regretfully that didn't stop its sense of smell it seemed. Since it was continuing to follow him, Harry ran quickly, not caring for being stealthy at the moment. Ducking into the tunnels and thankfully avoiding all the ones that led to nowhere, which would have seen him being eaten by the hungry Basilisk. "Damn it," cursed Harry, as he tumbled over his own cloak. Yanking it off, he left it behind, then paused down the corridor when he didn't hear it close by. It was sniffing around the area where his cloak was on the ground. Brilliant!

The words "For enemies" in the Prince's book came to mind. The basilisk was one, but could he use the spell? He's said he wouldn't use those spells again after what happened to the Troll. It didn't look like he had much of a choice down here, it was literally life or death. His green eyes widened when he heard the great big snake on the move again, and pointing his wand, he yelled out "Sectumsempra!" He then gave a great big yelp when the curse rebounded, after hitting the snake; he ducked in time for the spell to zoom harmlessly past. Well that spell was useless, thought Harry, but at least now he knew what it did—a great big nothing against a Basilisk at the very least.

He scrambled to his feet awkwardly, since his wand was in his hand, and he didn't want to break the only line of defense he had down here. "Bombarda!" he shouted, aiming at it as he bolted. It was far to close to him for his liking. Just then, it started hissing in agony, its mouth wide open. Harry didn't hesitate this time, as he once again shouted, "Bombarda! Sectumsempra!"

Harry backed away from the writhing Basilisk as blood gushed from its mouth, along with other stuff he did NOT want to identify. Grimacing in distaste, he suddenly remembered the real reason he'd come down here. The Weasley girl, he had to save her and stop Hogwarts from closing since he didn't have enough money to get his own place yet. He certainly didn't want to spend any more time than he had to in Potter Manor. How was he going to do that? Peering around the corner of the tunnel, he saw Weasley and the specter of Tom Riddle, and he was at a loss of what to do.

Then he noticed an item, a book, lying next to her. She had nothing else on her, so why would that item be so important? Unless…could it be what he was using? "Accio book!" chanted Harry, and caught the book out of the air before looking around for anything sharp. Nothing, there was nothing he could use…then he saw the sharp fangs lying in the dead basilisk's mouth.

Groaning, he called, "Accio basilisk fang!" Gagging at the squelching sound that was made as the fang tore itself from the thing's jaw, he grasped onto the bloody fang and slammed it into the book as a yell of, "NO!" penetrated his mind. He didn't listen to it, but did jump when he was splattered with ink. It worked, thought Harry as the specter screamed in agony before fading away. Not even five seconds later, Weasley began to stir.

He'd done it, he was safe and Hogwarts would remain open.

He didn't go to her immediately, instead removing the Diadem from his head and caressing it. It had been thought to be lost since the founders' time, yet here it was, in the Sorting Hat all this time. He would have loved to keep it, but he knew the temptation to use it would be too great. Taking a deep breath, he reluctantly stalked over to the Hat and quickly shoved it in; it wasn't his to keep.

"Can you move?" asked Harry, staring at Weasley enquiringly. He had no idea how he was going to get them both back up that tunnel, but he lended her a hand, pulling her up. Just before he could reclaim his hand, Fawkes trilled at them before grasping his shoulder in his small talons and for the first time, they felt the beauty of being transported by a Phoenix.

Harry noticed they were in the Headmaster's office, since he could see Dumbledore staring at them in surprise. It was the last thing Harry saw before he passed out, having exhausted his magic.


When he woke, it was again in the Hospital Wing, but at least this time, he hadn't been attacked to wind up there.

"Ah, Harry, it's good to see you finally awake!" beamed Dumbledore, sitting beside Harry's bed.

"Yes, Sir," said Harry stiffly.

"Aren't you curious about why Fawkes answered your call?" asked the Headmaster proudly.

"Not really," answered Harry. He didn't like Dumbledore; he was finally being noticed, but it was a little too late for that.

"Only those with utmost faith in me would have been able to call Fawkes to that Chamber. I am proud of you Harry; you are as much a hero as your brother is. I will be writing home to your parents to let them know how you saved the school. They will be very proud of you, too, I'm sure," smiled Dumbledore kindly.

Harry suppressed the urge to laugh by nodding curtly and acting a little weak. He hadn't even been thinking about Dumbledore, no his only thought had been to keep Hogwarts open so he could continue attending. He wasn't a hero, at least he didn't see himself as such, and he never wanted to be.

Dumbledore drew a six-inch basilisk fang from in his robes and held it out to Harry, informing him, "Before I go, I wanted to give you this. The venom has been removed, so it is just a fang now. There's no danger in letting you keep this as a memento of your victory." The Headmaster had given the basilisk to Severus to use in potions, but the Potions Master had suggested giving the fang to Harry once the venom had been taken out—and it seemed that had been the right way to handle it.

"Thanks, Sir," the boy agreed, taking the fang with a small grin.

"Get some rest, Harry! Tonight is the Leaving Feast. You have been unconscious for days!" revealed Dumbledore, looking concerned for a moment before turning and leaving.

For the first time in his living memory, his brother hadn't been able to take credit for his accomplishments. It felt good; he couldn't suppress the smirk any longer, but also felt tired enough to want more rest. At first, he was waylaid from sleep by the medi-Witch, Madam Pomfrey, bringing him healthy and filling foods to make up for the week he'd been unconscious. Afterwards, he laid back down for a few more hours, until Madam Pomfrey came to check him over and let him go for a bit before the Feast.

"You can go now if you feel up to it. Any tiredness and you had better come and see me, alright Harry?" said Poppy, concerned.

Harry swallowed sharply. He had always wanted his mother to do that. Why did it have to be the school nurse? The boy nodded grimly before leaving; it took him a while to get to Ravenclaw Tower as he was still a little lethargic and tired. He managed in the end, and went straight to his room. Once safely inside, he spelled a hole in the fang, shrunk it down to an inch big, and pushed a piece of string through the hole. Finally, he tied it around his neck.


Not long after, it was time for the Leaving Feast, and Dumbledore gave his usual announcements—and one very unexpected one. "I would also like to award Harry Potter 150 House points for defending the school against a basilisk. I am also giving him an award for services to the school," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling over at the Ravenclaw table.

Harry was stunned and looked it; this was the last thing he had expected. Normally, things he did weren't given credit, so he hadn't expected Dumbledore to tell everyone—but he had well at least the fact he'd saved the school. Suddenly, he didn't hate the man so much, and he thought to himself, 'Perhaps my brother isn't so favored after all.' Sighing softly, he silently wished his money would build up quicker. The sooner he was away from the Potters, the better a life he would have, and while he had a lot, he knew it wasn't nearly enough yet to go to the Muggle world and live for years before being able to work.

"Well done, Harry," said Luna Lovegood, her blue eyes twinkling brightly. She was a year younger than him, had very pale blond hair trailing down her back, and tended to wear very strange things like bottlecap necklaces and radish-shaped earrings. There was an air of mystery around her and she didn't care about the students or what they thought of her. Harry secretly admired that about her. He had noticed her by herself, much like he was while going to classes.

"Thanks," the boy replied a little timidly. Maybe next year he might get to know her properly. That is, if she wanted to know someone like him. He wasn't Nick Potter, after all.

Also announced at the Feast was that Lockhart had decided it was too much drama teaching children at Hogwarts, and he insisted on concentrating on his new book. It was good news for him—he wasn't going to have to put up with the fake again next year, and he was ever so glad.

The next morning, he was on the train due to go back 'home'. Sighing softly as he sat alone in the compartment once again, he contemplated why he still called that house 'home'. His family hated him, and he hated his family so much, especially his mother and father. Why did they need to favor his brother all the time? What was wrong with showing him a bit of love? They didn't need to all-out neglect him or ignore him all the time...And yet, that was what they did. It was no 'home' to him.


"How are your potions going?" asked Dumbledore curiously. Since Severus had left, Dumbledore had made sure they met up at least once or twice a month. This time, it was at Hogwarts, in Albus' office.

"Good. I think I've perfected the Wolfsbane Potion," said Severus, his eyes twinkling. He had changed a lot since he'd left. Sure, he wasn't the handsomest fellow, but he was handsome in his own way, depending on what look a person went for.

"Impressive. I suppose you truly were underachieving at the school," said Dumbledore sadly, pride clear in his voice also.

Severus would have beamed hearing pride in the Headmaster's voice, but he was still a stern man who rarely displayed emotion. The Headmaster was like a father to him, had been since he made a foolish mistake at the age of seventeen. He had gone to the Headmaster and begged him to make sure Lily lived, even told him he would go quietly to Azkaban. Since then, he had been spying. At the time, Albus had been vicious with him, saying he was disgusted with Severus for not caring about James Potter's death. The reason was understandable—he had only said to make sure 'Lily and her children' were safe, instead of 'the Potter family'. Thankfully, he had corrected Dumbledore on that point, and despite the horrible start, they did get along well now.

About half a year later, Albus had begged him to stop spying, when he had come back beaten and cursed more times than not. Then again, he hadn't been bringing back any really valuable information.

"How are the students?" asked the Potions Master, mostly referring to his Slytherins, of course. He might not be the Head of Slytherin anymore, but his Slytherins meant the world to him, and he always asked after them.

"Good, good. They are getting used to the new Head of House, and the changes that came with it. They still miss you, I think it will take a while for that to truly fade. It was the abruptness of your departure that confused and hurt them the most. They understand why you left, and if the younger ones didn't, the older ones made sure they did," said Dumbledore, smiling brightly.

"I have always been curious as to why you did what you did to the Slytherins last year," said Severus tersely. Unbeknown to Albus, it was one of the reasons that had made him leave. He knew it would only continue to get worse each year Nick Potter was at Hogwarts.

"What did I do, Severus?" asked Albus with a frown.

"You awarded the Gryffindors points, and caused Slytherin to lose the House Cup they had worked so hard for. You hurt them more than you will ever know," said the younger wizard. It would surprise many to know he kept in touch with his students. Marcus Flint had been one of them, a good boy—a bit rough around the edges, but a decent young man. He had been told in great length they missed him and what Dumbledore had done since, including the newest round of points to Harry Potter for saving the school from a Basilisk.

"I…I didn't realize," said the quiet, shocked Headmaster. He had never looked at it that way.

"Yes, some of the Slytherins began hating you that night," admitted Severus, or worse than they already did because of their parents.

That caused Albus to look years older than he was; sometimes like any normal Gryffindor, he did things without thinking of the consequences. Now, he was just being told the consequences of his actions of trying to favor the Boy-Who-Lived.

"However, it's the Potter twins who have me mystified," sighed Dumbledore, changing the subject slightly.

"Excuse me?" asked Severus in confusion.

"The Potter twins, Nick and Harry," clarified Dumbledore. "It's like Harry should be the Boy-Who-Lived. He has the power and the thirst for knowledge, and he's smart."

"Indeed," smirked Severus. "And Nick?"

"Well...he's like Neville, just a usual wizard. I don't know if it's just because he wants to prank and not do work or if he's really just like any other wizard," sighed Albus.

"Don't let Lily or James hear you say that," warned the Potions Master, smirking at the thought of Nick Potter being described as a mediocre student.

"Ah, don't worry, I wont. I'm sorry about Lily, Severus," said the old wizard sadly.

"Well, nothing was the same after I called her that word. I expected her to despise me. We had been friends since we were eight years old, Albus! I didn't expect her to forget me completely..." admitted Severus sadly.

"I am sorry. She doesn't realize just how much you sacrificed for her," said Dumbledore, looking quite angry with Lily.

"And she never will," said Severus, narrowing his eyes at Dumbledore as if to say, 'And you had better not tell her.' Oh, he didn't love her the way James Potter thought he did, as his preferences lay in his own gender, thank you very much. It wasn't something he publicized. Then again, he didn't publicize anything. He wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived, so nobody wanted to know about him.

"I've been asking around. It's becoming apparent that Harry is hardly with his family," said the Headmaster.

"You are snooping?" asked the younger wizard wryly.

"Not snooping, just...concerned," mumbled Dumbledore.

"He's a teenager. Of course he doesn't want to spend time with his mother and father," said Severus. "Plus, he's always seemed different from them all. If I didn't know Lily had twins and they were hers, I would say Harry wasn't a Potter."

"I can see what you mean," admitted Albus. Harry was so different from his parents and brother.

"What about the last Potter brat?" asked the Potions Master.

"Well, Roxy I've never met," replied Dumbledore.

"I see," shrugged Severus, not caring much about the subject of Potters.

"Well, school is starting back up soon. The first month is the worst, home sick students, drop outs, getting the tuition money out of the parents...I wish it was someone else's job to do that," sighed the Headmaster. Everything was left to him, unfortunately.

Severus smirked. "Well, just arrange another day and I'll be available. Until then, Headmaster, good day to you and thanks again for the basilisk." It was the nicest gift he had ever been given. He had so many experimental potions going he didn't know what to do with them all. Had he taken a few moments to think through it, he may have realised that Albus had been evasive during their conversation.

"Goodbye Severus, and good luck," smiled Dumbledore. He watched as Severus Flooed out, going home to his mother's ancestral home, Prince Manor.

His mother didn't live there, unfortunately. The young Potions Master had wanted her to, but she had seen enough of it to last her a lifetime. Instead, the younger wizard had given her some of the Prince money to buy herself a flat. He also knew she had opened a shop of some sort, but he hadn't seen it yet. He preferred to talk to his mother up in her flat, away from customers. He had heard all about his mother's little summer helper, Harry, too. He had asked her the other day for his last name, and her answer stunned him. She didn't even know his last name, of all the foolish things! Still, he was good for her, so Severus wasn't going to complain too much.


R&R And big thanks to Snow Leopard Pasha for editing :)