Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC's
I forgot to mention it earlier, but the reason that Harry doesn't have his invisibility cloak is because Dumbledore withheld it once he noticed the association between Harry and Quirrell
Also, it was brought to my attention that this story had prominent similarities to Harry Potter and the Boy who lived. Don't worry, because I intend to make drastic changes during the summer of Harry's fourteenth birthday.
Please keep in mind that although this is my first story, I have read many pieces of fanfiction revolving around Harry Potter. Many of those pieces of work have rubbed off on me, and their influence may be shown here. I will try to keep any influence to a minimum, but some overflow is inevitable. Please let me know if I start taking too much from any one story.
Thanks! :)
Harry awoke with a start, remembering that he was almost suffocated by his own spell. Glancing around frantically, he saw that he was in the hospital wing and began to calm down marginally.
Turning his head, Harry saw several sheets covering the forms of several bodies. Harry didn't need to guess who they were. He averted his eyes when he saw that he was not alone in the room.
Karkaroff stood there, alternating between staring at Harry and glaring at the bodies. Once seeing Harry awake, he made is way over.
"Mr. Potter." He started, looking as apologetic as someone like him could. "My apologies that you had to go through that."
"We promote experimentation" He continued. "But not to the point of foolishness. Fiendfyre is one of the most advanced dark art spells in existence, way about the capabilities of undergraduates."
"Much like aqua eructo." He spoke, beady eyes locking onto Harry's. "fiendfyre takes a tremendous amount of willpower, such that most individuals are simply unable to control it. I am somewhat surprised you managed to last as long as you did."
Staying silent for a moment, Karkaroff continued. "It has been nearly a week since you arrived here Mr. Potter." He finished.
Harry stared for a moment, wondering if this was one of Karkaroff's cruel jokes. A whole week?
"You are cleared to leave at your own leisure, and your teachers have been notified of your absence." He finished, turning to leave.
"Wait sir." Harry spoke. "Who contained the Fiendfyre?"
"It was Emsorth and Ashen." Karkaroff answered, before departing from the hospital wing leaving Harry alone wit the covered corpses of what remained of his classmates.
So, his charms and dark arts teachers were enough the quell the flames. It wasn't surprising considering that fiendfyre was harder to contain the larger it grew, and the fiendfyre was still quite small by the time it had gotten to Harry.
Sighing, Harry laid back and let a tear trickle down his cheek. That was the closest he had ever come to dying, and he fought a troll for Merlin's sake!
Resting in bed for an hour, Harry's rest was interrupted by the door slamming open and Victor striding in. What surprised Harry was that Blackwell was with him, and the two couldn't stand each other!
"Harry!" Victor explained, moving beside his bed. "Are you okay."
"Ok is subjective." Harry responded. Elena rolled her eyes and stood at the end of the bed.
"Nobody expected any students to be stupid enough to try fiendfyre." She commented. "It is one of the strongest spells ever, no mere student should be able to control it."
Harry couldn't help but wince at that. The boy who summoned the fiendfyre seemed so confident in his abilities, he made Harry feel bad about himself.
And now he was dead, Harry mused. He wondered if this is the first time someone killed themselves experimenting with spells out of their level. Recalling how he almost killed himself with his aqua eructo, Harry concluded that it was probably not.
Getting out of the bed with a wince and groan of pain. Harry struggled to his feet.
"What time is it?" He asked the two. It was dark out, but he had no clue what time of the night it was.
"Just past seven." Victor responded. Elena remained silent to the point, before sighing softly.
"Teach me." She asked, looking at Harry straight in the eyes. "Teach me how to use Aqua Eructo."
Harry stared at her, recalling how his use of that spell almost got him killed.
"I cannot control it." He replied, not looking either one in the eye. "I almost got myself killed trying to protect myself."
"If you hadn't cast that spell you would be dead." She retaliated, not budging an inch.
"Give him a break, he almost died." Victor snapped. Elena turned to face him with a scowl, and the two glared at each other.
"Maybe another time." Harry interrupted their argument, not wanting to see wands drawn. "Once I've recovered."
Alena smiled, while Victor grumbled. Walking out of the hospital wing with a slight limp, Harry turned back to glance at the bodies.
'They didn't really deserve the die.' Harry thought. 'They were just kids. Stupid, foolish, kids.'
Turning his back on the corpses, Harry walked back to his dorm, accompanied by his two friends.
The next few days were an adjustment back to his regular schedule. He got copies of the notes taken in class from other students. His teachers were slightly less pressing in class, and Harry got the impression that he earned an inkling a respect.
The days passed into weeks, which gradually turned into months as the finals approached. Harry put the incident with the fiendfyre to the back of his head, but he never forgot. Sometimes when he slept at night, he heard the screams and saw the fire and water swirling around him.
One positive to his encounter was the Elena and Victor stopped trying to kill each other. They were still hostile and preferred not staying in each other's company. However, they tolerated each other for Harry's sake, and he was thankful for that.
Taking his experience with the fiendfyre and aqua eructo to heart, Harry put his outdoor experimentation on hold. While he continued to learn new and interesting magics, he decided to pace himself, at least until he got a firm grasp of what he was learning.
At last, it was the month before finals. Harry began spending more time in the library. At his insistence, Victor took time off from his quidditch routine to study more, which said a lot.
Speaking of Victor, the day after his last final he was portkeying away to the Bulgarian stadium for a tryout. If he made the cut, he could see action as soon as the following summer. Harry felt proud for him, wishing him the best in his quidditch conquest.
On a less positive note, Victor's girlfriend continued to annoy. It wasn't like she was a bad person, but Harry got the vibe that she was latching onto him for some reason. He put that to the back of his head for the meantime.
Upon the arrival of his first evaluation, Harry nervously walked into his charm's classroom at the given time. Upon making his way to the front of the classroom, Harry contemplated the differences between the Hogwarts Final and Durmstrang final.
For his first finals at Hogwarts Harry simply took a test for each class. Here at Durmstrang, each class had their own practical evaluation to determine the quality of the student. No two classes had the same evaluation style. One common theme though, is that the student would arrive at their usual classroom when instructed and would then have to complete the assignment given to them.
They would then be ranked accordingly, based off their performance.
Harry snapped out of his musings and walked up to professor Emsorth. Upon seeing that he was ready, Emsorth asked several questions.
"What is the purpose of depulso?"
"what charm makes an object change color?"
Many more questions followed, with them getting more difficult each time.
"What is the name of the charm that hides a secret within a person?"
Answering each question, upon hearing the last one Harry thought over what spells he knew fit that description. Smiling, Harry turned to answer his professor.
"The fidelius." Harry answered, confident in his reply. He was somewhat surprised by the easy final, but perhaps he simply overstudied?
"Good." And with that professor Emsorth waved his wand and the door opened. A bit put out by the easy evaluation, Harry made his way to the door.
"Your use of aqua eructo was excellent, Mr. Potter." Emsorth interrupted, as Harry turned to face him. "I would be interested if you could fully master that spell before you graduate."
Smiling, professor Emsorth waved him off, and as Harry left, he thought that maybe Emsorth had taken a liking to him.
His next final was later that day. For potions he was asked to identify several potions, in a similar manner to his initiation. He then had one hour to brew a potion of his choice. Harry picked a potion that tested his capabilities, as he thought that would give him the best score.
Unlike his charm's final, there were several students being evaluated in the room with Harry. As his hour neared its end, Harry bottled his Drought of Peace potion. Passing it in to professor Mendon, Harry turned and left the class.
The following day his other two finals went much the same way. Harry had passed in his transfiguration project, which was a watch that transfigured into a bird and whistled the time.
It was a pain to enchant, an endeavor that took several nights. Content with the progress he had made, Harry moved on to his last final.
His evaluation for the dark arts was…. different. Students were cursed by other students, and to pass their final they had to give the counter for the spell used on them. Harry was a tiny bit nervous, as he didn't want to get hit with a bone breaking or stomach rotting curse.
He had nothing to worry about, as his caster, first year Eran Lucan sent the conjunctivitis curse at him. Feeling a burning sensation in his eyes and not being about to see with any clarity, Harry quickly cast the counter curse and was relieved when his vision returned.
Preparing to fire off a curse at Eran, Harry took pity upon seeing the slightly frightened expression that was apparent only for a moment.
"Incarcerous." He muttered, watching as ropes appeared and bound Eran. Eran was barely able to reach his wand, and with a muttered counter the ropes disappeared.
Having completed his evaluation, Harry left the room. Now he had two days before the portkey would take him back to King's Cross. He would receive his scores about a week into the summer.
Hoping that he did well, Harry proceeded to his room. The place had changed a lot since the beginning of the year. While still not as welcoming as the Hogwarts dorm, there was a certain amount of care put into its furnishings.
While the walls were bare, Harry had transfigured a dresser onto one side of the room. While it was liable to revert to its previous form, Harry ensured that should it revert it would not damage any of the clothes within.
Looking at the bed, now a soft and comfortable sleeping place made Harry remember his first night where he slept on a wooden frame. Shivering in disgust, Harry started to pack up his trunk.
Recalling that he needed to say goodbye to both Victor and Elena, Harry made his way to Victor's room. Knocking on the door, Harry walked in only to not feel his feet.
"Ow, it's just you." Victor said, cancelling the mud that had surrounded and solidified around Harry's feet.
"just coming in to say goodbye, and to have a good summer." Harry said.
"Of course, it'll be great!" Victor went on. "I have the greatest opportunity of my life tomorrow. If I make the professional league not only will I become rich and famous. I'll be able to get away from this hellhole."
Feeling at bit offended on Durmstrang's behalf, Harry remained silent as Victor continued to go on about how great his life was going to be when he got in.
"Thanks again for sending that letter." Victor spoke, after finishing his rant. "I might not have gotten the interview without your recommendation."
"Your welcome." Harry responded, still a bit miffed about Victor's still disregard for school. It wasn't all bad though, apparently Victor thought that he had managed to pass third year charms. That was great, because it meant that he wouldn't be expelled for incompetence.
He just wished that Victor would take school a bit more seriously. Leaving his friends room with a sigh, Harry decided to go say goodbye to Elena. Coming to a stop in the hallway, Harry come to a sudden realization. He had no clue where her room was.
She never decided to tell him, and he never thought to ask. This led to him wandering around aimlessly for a bit. About to give up and call it a day, he literally ran face first into her.
"Bloody…. oh, hey Elena." Harry spoke, after cursing his aching nose. Looking at her, she seemed to be in an equally unlucky state. They had both tumbled to the ground upon contact, and both made their way to their feet.
"Always running around." She muttered, giving Harry an agitated glare. He had long since gotten acclimated her angry stares and thought that he might it during the summer.
"I just wanted to say goodbye." Harry spoke, turning slightly red in the ears.
"Funny way of showing it." She replied, feeling the small bump that Had appeared on her cheek. "Why are you always causing trouble?"
"It's just part of my job." Harry gave a cheeky grin and proceeded to give Elena a hug. She locked up, and here eyes widened comically.
"Well, bye." And with that Harry shot off, as he saw Elena reach for her wand with her entire face transforming to into an angry red.
Laughing, Harry spent the next hour half dodging curses, while ducking into corners and around statues. Finally losing her by hiding in a classroom, Harry let out a soft sigh as Elena ran past.
"Running from girls already, Mr. Potter?" A voice spoke from behind. Harry turned around and noticed professor Emsorth there, grading papers. Suffering mental collapse, Harry finally realizing that he had ran into his charm's professors' room.
"Sorry, professor." Harry apologized. "I just needed to hide in the nearest classroom."
Letting out a snort, Emsorth waved his apology off. Returning to grading papers, Harry decided that was his moment to leave.
Walking out of the classroom after thoroughly checking all sides, Harry returned to his room. Although he would be leaving in just wo days, Harry decided to pack up most of his stuff. Packing almost everything into his trunk, Harry proceeded to go get Victor for dinner.
After his last dinner with his friend for the school year, Harry parted with Victor after yet again wishing him well in his tryout the next day, which he needed to leave early for. Heading to bed Harry laid down, preparing for his last full day at Durmstrang.
Waking up the next day, Harry walked into the dining hall and noticing that there were only a portion of the students as from last night.
It wasn't unexpected, Harry mused. On this day almost, all the students leave for their homes, most taking portkeys home throughout the day. As students gradually stood up and left for home, Harry decided to try his experiment one last time.
Walking out of the castle he moved towards the same spot he tried his spell, before the whole fiendfyre thing happened. Arriving in the isolated patch of forest, Harry stood out his wand.
He stared at it for several moments, before slowly lifting it into the air.
"Aqua Eructo." He intoned quietly. What followed next was neither a stream nor a flood. A small trickle of water come forth from the wand, and it writhed and twisted just as before.
Harry kept his composure though, and with only the slightest pit of dread forming in his stomach he kept firm hold of the wand. The water surrounded him, but he was able to keep it from engulfing him.
What followed was nearly five minutes of Harry trying to control a small trickle of water and being only somewhat successful. Once he felt fatigue set in Harry cancelled the spell and waved back on forth on his feet.
'It's not legendary, but it's a starting place.' He thought, trying not to let the dizziness get to him. Just five months ago he had been unable to control the spell at all, and now he could exert force into the spell. It wasn't finished, not by a long shot but it was a beginning.
Walking back to the castle, Harry entered and was immediately aware of how empty the place was. While it was not uncommon to walk down an empty hallway, there was always the sound of voices or footsteps echoing through the corridors.
Sighing, Harry had dinner in the now empty dinning hall. Glancing around, Harry saw the remainder of his fellow peers. Many were discussing with each other, although the topic of their conversations was disrupted by the overall sound of voices echoing throughout the large room.
Victor and Elena had both departed throughout the day, with Victor leaving at the crack of dawn for his tryout and Elena leaving just after lunch. She had passed by him and looked about to say something, before moving on.
Glancing at where Victor normally sat, Harry was suddenly quite bored. He knew that just before sundown the following day he would portkey back to Britain and return to his orphanage.
He really didn't have anything against the orphanage or the people there, but after a full year at Durmstrang Harry didn't want to return to the mundane. And the pureblood mindset might be getting to him.
While there were no mobs going around Durmstrang preaching magical supremacy, it was evident that most students believed themselves above the nonmagical.
Harry couldn't blame them. He spent his whole youth surrounded by them, and at many times believed he was one of them but now he was beginning to start slipping into a superiority complex. It wasn't intentional either, but a kid surrounded by other kids all saying the same thing led to a certain mindset developing. He wondered what someone who never had exposure to the non-magical would think.
It was not hard to imagine that witches and wizards who grew up in the wizarding world would obtain a warped view of muggles. He could imagine them believing that muggles were cavemen, without any manners and very animalistic.
While many ended up being exposed to the muggle world sometime throughout their life and seeing the technology there, quite a few still maintained the visage they had of the muggles.
Shaking his head with a sigh, Harry arrived at his room. Going in, Harry laid down on last time for the school year on his bed.
Closing his eyes, Harry never would have believed that he could miss this dreaded room. But now, he knew he would. He would miss the damp cold and the horrible food. He would miss the dangerously unhindered learning methods. Because he loved what they represented.
He would miss the magic. Spending the next several months in a nonmagical orphanage, Harry would need to pay a visit to Diagon Alley or he would lose his mind.
Drifting off into sleep, the world faded to black as Harry dreamed.
Waking up with a sigh Harry laid back down into bed, savoring the feeling of his transfigured sheets. He hadn't gotten it right the first few times, with the texture and quality being off kilter many times.
Getting up out of bed, Harry decided to grab a quick bite. Walking into the dinning hall, Harry was one of about two dozen students who were still here. Unlike the previous night, there was very little talking, as most students were prepared to leave soon.
Taking one last walk around the school, Harry remembered that his grades would be coming out in less than a week. Recalling how the grading system different from Hogwarts, Harry walked aimlessly through the halls.
First of hall, there were six levels a student could get for their final. In order from top to bottom, they were M, W, A, S, R, and F.
M stood for masters and this was the highest that any students could achieve. Harry found out the hard way that each professor had the option of giving exams of different difficulty. That way, even though Harry preformed great on high finals, they were not on a level worthy of receiving a master's grade.
Harry was slightly miffed when he found out and was irked that the teachers had the ability to make or break a student's grade.
Moving on, the next grade was W which stood for well-learned. This was for the students who displayed both skill and interest in each subject. Harry believed that he would score at least a W for his charms and potions finals.
Harry also believed that he could have possibly scored a W for his transfiguration project, but that one was in the air. Moving on, the next grade was A, which stood for acceptable. This is the score Harry believed that he got for the dark arts class.
This was because although he was able to both block a offensive spell and retaliate with one of his own, both spells were of a basic level. Therefore, he was unlikely to get a W, and believed that he deserved an A.
Below A was S. This stood for sub-par. It was the grade given to a student who was not completely incapable in a class but still was unable to complete a substantial portion of the final. Getting an S was more common in classes that had more complex magics.
Classes like transfiguration, potions, ancient runes, and arithmancy were some of the subjects that gave out S's more frequently than charms, dark arts, and magical creatures. That was not to say that students performed better in those classes, but there was a larger section of middle quality performances.
Below S there was R and F. Both meant that a student was unable to advance any further. However, with R standing for repeat, a student had the option to retake that specific course at the level they were at. F on the other hand, meant that a student failed out of their class without the ability to retake it.
From what Harry heard it was almost impossible to fail a class if a student applied even marginal effort to it.
Only those who either never attend class or finals, and those who must repeat several years in a yow usually get an F.
Clearing his head, Harry noticed that the sun was setting. Knowing that he was expected to present himself before Ulen Messernacht before his portkey back home, Harry sought the man out.
He had been told that he was to arrive at the deputy headmaster's office at least five minutes before eight in the evening. Upon finding him at his office, Harry proceeded inwards.
Giving no visible reaction to his presence, the deputy headmaster continued writing on a piece of parchment. Finishing a line, he finally put his quill down and stared at Harry.
"While final grades are still being determined, I have been informed that you have passed all of your courses." Giving an internal 'whoop' Harry couldn't help but be somewhat relieved. While he had believed that he had performed well, there was a shadow of doubt that he had messed up.
"Your transportation for next year will be identical to this year." Ulen continued. "A portkey will arrive two days before activation and will activate at 11:00 in the morning exactly."
The deputy headmaster tossed a piece of rope onto the desk, with Harry moving to pick it up.
"You have become a Durmstrang student, Mr. Potter." Ulen's voice interrupted his movement. "I, and the rest of the staff will continue to expect high performance from you every year moving forward."
Giving a curt nod, Harry grasped firm hold onto the rope. This time knowing what to expect, he was still surprised at the feeling of being squeezed through a tight tube.
As Harry disappeared from his office, Ulen Messernacht snorted and resumed his writings.
Arriving with a 'pop' Harry was in an area of King's Cross he had only been in twice. He had landed in Platform 9 and 3/4's. There was nobody else there, and the iconic Hogwarts Express was notably absent. It took Harry a moment to realize that the Hogwarts students obviously got out at a different time.
As he looked around, he was aware of how different and decrepit the place looked now. Without the happy parents and children, and the familiar horn and red paint of the Hogwarts express, the entire place looked just a bit sad and empty. Shaking his head, Head made his way out of the platform via the magic gateway.
Arriving in the non-magical section of the station, Harry looked around. Normal everyday people going about their lives, not a hint of excitement or enthusiasm to be found. Except for the three year old throwing a tantrum in one corner, while her mom tried to calm her down.
It was a nice day out, with the occasional cloud disrupting what would otherwise be a completely blue sky. Travelling along his usually rout, Harry found himself standing in front of his orphanage in no time.
He didn't know why he felt so different about returning this time. When he got back from Hogwarts it was just a simple transition to readjust back into his old place. Now, for some reason he felt a pit form in the bottom of his stomach at the thought of being back.
Pushing his regrets out of his head, Harry walked up to the front and knocked. Ms. Chelsa was the one who opened to door and smiled upon seeing Harry.
"Back already, Harry?" She asked, stepping back and allowing him to enter. As he walked through the door, Harry noticing at a quick glance that Ms. Chelsa was continuing to acquire grey hairs, although there was still plenty of vitality in her eyes.
"Yes, just got in this morning." Harry responded, being intentionally vague about his mode of transportation. "Weather was terrible on the way back, it caused a delay."
"Ow my" She responded. "Well it's good that you made it back in one piece. You still remember where your room is?"
"Of course." Harry responded, a bit miffed that she thought he would forget after staying in that room for nearly seven years. Sending him off with a smile Ms. Chelsa walked back into her office, where a young couple sat.
Harry almost paused when he noticed the familiar sight of adoption papers on the desk but continued onwards after a second. Most of the children adopted were young, with not many children over ten being picked up.
It was even less likely for him to get adopted. Spending around nine months of the year secluded out of the country left him with little time for meet and greets. Harry was unsure if he even wanted to be adopted at this point, with his focus on magic and development outshining any family desires.
Walking into his room and noticing the familiar cracked desk and shaky bed that inhabited the room, Harry reflected on another event that had happened before his departure from Durmstrang.
Recalling how the day after his last evaluation, Harry had been called to professor Emsorth's class. He had walked in anxious, nervous that he had indeed failed but was pleasantly surprised by what happened.
"Mr. Potter." Emsorth started as Harry entered. "I have one last thing to do for you before you return to Britain. Curious as the what his charms professor could impart on him before his departure, Harry listened curiously.
"Please hand me your wand." Emsorth continued. Harry stalled for a moment. He had always believed that a witches or wizards wand was their most important possession. Giving it over the someone, even if it was his professor gave him pause.
Curiosity winning out over caution, Harry handed his prized wand over. Taking hold of the wand, professor Emsorth looked it over with a focused eye before returning his gaze to Harry.
"Sycamore wood?" He questioned. At Harry's nod he waved his own wand over Harry's, and a small purple glow engulfed his wand for a moment.
"Now the trace has been removed from your wand." He spoke. Harry's mental processes froze, with his mouth hanging down comically.
"I don't need to impress upon you." Emsorth continued, giving Harry a stare. "That you are not to practice any advanced magic in the middle of London. Doing so could find you becoming an inhabitant of Azkaban."
Harry hadn't known whether to be scared or happy leaving the class. On one hand he could now practice magic, but on the other any mistakes or screw ups he made would be entirely on him.
Breaking free of his recollection, Harry set down his trunk, and proceeded to make sure the anti-muggle charms were in full effect. He had learned this spell in order to guarantee that neither the staff nor any of the nosy students would stumble upon his magic chest.
Now passing into the late afternoon, Harry debated what to do next. He recalled the letter that Snape had written to him. Taking it out of his trunk he read it over once more, before deciding it couldn't hurt to send his old professor another note now that the school year was over.
Dear Mr. Snape,
I am writing to you in order to obtain information regarding the magic known as occlumency. Now that the school year is over as detailed in your letter, I am writing to you in order to find out the proper technique when using this form. Also, I would be interested in….
Once finishing the letter and signing it, Harry was suddenly unaware that he had no way of sending it. When at Hogwarts and Durmstrang he had just used school owls, and all other letters were returned using the owls that sent the original message.
Knowing that he could purchase an owl in Diagon Alley, Harry decided to wait on his visit until sometime in the next few days. Heading down to eat dinner, Harry sat in his usual spot. Now nearing his thirteen birthday, Harry sat with the older group of kids.
These were the ones who were beginning to show signs of the hopelessness of being an orphan without any relatives. They sat with slightly hunched shoulders, and their smiles were now somewhat strained compared to the younger kids who didn't fully comprehend their situation.
Staring at the innocent young children, Harry recalled how once a child asked the matron when their parents would be coming back. Thinking back on it, he recalled how the matron put on a strained smile and proceeded to say "Someday."
Breaking free of this depressing train of thought before it consumed him, Harry shook his head and glanced around. Noticing Andrew Smeat staring at him, Harry averted his eyes. But his attempts to avoid a conversation were foiled.
"Hey Harry." Andrew started, taking a sip of his soup. "We were wondering when you would get back from your school. How was it?"
Conscious of the attention now being directed on him by the nearby students, Harry thought his response out carefully.
"Good." He started. "The return journey was horrible, the train broke down on the return trip and I had to wait several hours for it to be fixed."
Pulling this story out of thin air, lying was surprising easy to pull off for those who had no idea what to expect.
"How was the school? Make any friends?" Andrew continued. Harry took a moment to decipher his tone. It almost sounded like he was jealous.
"No." Harry responded, making sure to step carefully. "I spent most of my time studying."
Andrew opened his mouth to retort, but before he could their conversation was interrupted.
They heard sniffling from down to table, both Harry and Andrew glancing over. A young girl was sitting surrounded by who Harry assumed where her friends. She appeared very sad and was not eating very much.
"What happened to her." Harry side-whispered to Andrew, who seemed to pity the girl.
"Ow, she's Emily Bentworth." He whispered back, interrogation forgotten. "She was adopted from the orphanage about three days ago. Then suddenly, she was returned and the family that returned her said that she was not what they expected and left. The girl's been a mess since."
Andrew went back to picking at his foods while Harry processed the new information. He didn't want to start assuming details, but he wondered if she was possibly magical. It would not be unheard of for muggle parents to return an adopted child if supernatural occurrences followed them.
They may even assume it was a haunting. Harry wondered if any muggleborn children have ever been exorcised, or worse killed by their adopted parents. Shivering at the prospect Harry continued to eat.
Nearing the end of dinner, Harry was about to finish and quickly leave when Andrew's voice interrupted him.
"We were thinking of heading downtown tomorrow, to the shopping district." He began. "As you are the only other thirteen-year-old boy (or close enough) we were wondering if you wanted to come?"
"Who's we?" Harry asked. Andrew turned a bit sheepish and scratched his head.
"Well, it was just me, Jessica and Kate." He said. Harry recalled those two girls as the same ones who forced him to play a horrible boardgame last year. Thinking about replying no, Harry stalled. He realized that he could slip his visit to Diagon Alley in with their trip.
"Sure." Harry replied. "But I have to make a stop at one of the stores."
At Andrew's curious gaze, he quickly thought up the fastest story he could find.
"I need to get some supplies for my school next year." Harry said, realizing too late that this was not one of the best things he could say as it might bring scrutiny upon his school.
But to his relief, Andrew only sighed and looked at him with empathy.
"So not even boarding schools give you what you need?" He replied. "You don't know how embarrassing it is coming into class with a sack instead of a backpack."
Harry could imagine the embarrassment. It would be terrible if all the kids with families came into class with the newest equipment and toys, while the orphans couldn't even bring in new pencils.
Andrew must have assumed that Harry suffered from the same situation. Thankfully Harry's blunder had not caught on and may have even bought him some empathy.
"great, we are planning to leave tomorrow at about nine." And with that Andrew went back to eating. Assuming this the conversation was over Harry got up to leave.
Deciding to head back to his room while to other children continued to finish eating and talking, Harry's decision was altered when he saw the girl who had been returned get up before him and leave the hall.
Extremely curious about whether the girl was indeed magical, Harry decided to follow her. Recalling her name was Emily, Harry watched as she walked up to the second floor and sat on a windowsill at the end of the hall.
Harry walked up to her, and as soon as she heard footsteps Emily whipped her head around and glared at him.
"I don't need your pity!" She snapped. Harry would assume that she was either nine or teen, with dark blonde hair and blue eyes. Hiding the fact that he did indeed feel some pity, Harry prepared to respond.
"I have none." He said. "May I ask you a question?"
"I don't know why they gave me up!" She said, her voice cracking slightly. "I heard them tell Ms. Chelsa that weird things happened around me. I don't know why!"
"What kind of weird things?" Harry prodded gently. "What did they say."
"I don't know! They said they saw a phone lift into the air. They said they saw a bear I touched start to move on its own. I don't know what's happening!"
Breaking down, she began to silently cry with small trails of tears trickling down her cheek. Harry for his part had learned everything he needed to know. Emily was indeed a witch and had scared her adopted parents with her magic, which caused them to return her.
Unfamiliar with how to deal with crying people, especially crying children left Harry in a bit of an unfortunate situation. He didn't really want to console her, but he also didn't want to leave her.
Deciding to go with a middle route, Harry sat down on the floor next to the window.
"It's okay." He spoke, as Emily continued to softly cry. "They were just scared of what they didn't understand, that's all."
Her tears slowed down, and she glanced at him again.
"What do you mean?" She whispered. Satisfied that she was no longer crying, Harry thought of what to say next.
"Well, you are special." He continued. "You are different than regular children. Surely you have noticed strange things happening to you."
Crossing his fingers Harry hoped that Emily was indeed a witch, because he could get in a lot of trouble if she wasn't. He watched as she thought about anything weird that happened to her, before letting out a shy smile.
"Well, there was one time." She started, trying and failing to hide a smile. "There was this mean kid in my first-grade class. He was being mean to another boy and would keep pushing him down. I wanted him to feel what it felt like to get pushed down, and suddenly he smacked into the ground!"
She sounded like she didn't know whether to be amused or scared.
"How do you know he didn't just trip?" Harry interrupted. Kids were not the most coordinated of creatures, Harry could clearly imagine a young kid tripping and hitting the ground.
"The weird thing was." She resumed. "He didn't look lie he tripped. It was like something slammed him down from behind."
Not showing the slight worry he felt, Harry thought over what Emily told him. Such extreme accidental magic at first grade was not a good sign. If Harry didn't know for a fact that the orphanage wasn't negligent, or god forbid abusive, he might assume she had the potential for becoming an obscurus.
'That's a nasty thought.' Harry imagined the scenario and didn't like it. Pushing that trail of thought out the window, Harry put on his best smile.
"You are someone special." He spoke, watching as her tears fully stopped. "And someday, when you turn eleven you will get a letter."
Seeing that she was fully captivated by his words, he let out an internal 'whoop'.
"When that happens, you will go to a school, and be with kids just like yourself" He continued. "And you will learn how to control these things you do."
"is it magic?" She asked, looking at him in wonder. Harry didn't know what to say. On one hand, he really wanted to tell her the truth and that she was a witch. On the other hand, he was unsure about whether she could keep her mouth shut or would go telling everyone about it.
"I can't answer that now." He said, watching as the girls yes fell. "But when you turn eleven and that letter arrives, come see me. I will tell you everything then."
Harry stood up, and as he left the hall he glanced back and saw Emily staring out the window. Wondering if he told her too much, Harry found and entered his room. Setting down on his bed, Harry was interrupted by a frantic banging on the window.
Glancing over and seeing a midnight black owl banging on the outside of the window, Harry quickly opened it before someone noticed. The owl hopped in, and dropped a letter without prompt, before turning around the leave.
Flapping his wings, the owl took off, and banged into the side of the window. Hastily getting up, the owl turned to glare at Harry as if saying 'Don't tell anyone about this.' It was gone. Smiling in bemusement, Harry recognized the name of his best friend on the letter.
Wondering what Victor had been up to, Harry opened to letter. And stared. It was in a completely different language. Groaning in realization, Harry remembered that there was a spell over the Durmstrang castle that allow communication over different languages.
Realizing that this must have applied to writing as well, Harry felt like banging his head on the wall. Deciding to try and see if he could find a spell tomorrow at Diagon Alley that can translate languages, Harry peeked his head out an looked at the clock hanging at the end of the hall.
He could have just used a spell to figure out the time, but why risk the secrecy of his magic for something so simply. Closing the door with a sigh, Harry laid down in bed, prepping for his shopping trip the next day.
Conclusion, for now.