The Lost Potter and the Philosopher's Stone – Chapter Seven


Okay, I'm back. I know I was due to update the Lost Potter (my pet name for it) a while ago. But I had a graphics project and then exams and then I had another graphics project (still have another graphics project to be honest). There will be a period of time in about a month that I will break up my updating schedule again due to my actual exams. Otherwise this chapter had been largely written up last weekend - it's a long one so enjoy! :-)

This chapter hasn't been beta'd - if there is something really terrible contact me. Please feel free to review - they tell me what people are thinking and I do value your opinions even if I don't go by some of them. So Read and Review.

Willstone


Harry hadn't meant to rip the curtain, he'd been trying to leave his room and the long, thick tail of the curtain had wrapped around his foot, a tight embrace. He'd tripped and gone sprawling on the floor. Wiggling his foot slightly he'd freed himself from the curtains restraint and untangled the trail – which had knotted itself into a tight ball. One untangled he'd realised that it was torn.

It had taken three days for Harry to figure out that the owner of the manor (a mysterious figure who hadn't yet visited the room Harry had been placed in) had the 'magic' that the girl in his dream had talked about. The nurse who'd been looking after him during his stay at the manor had introduced herself as Matron Knowlton and had then proceeded to wave a wooden stick around Harry's person, murmuring things under her breath that sounded like curses. She, Harry thought, was a witch for sure.

At the very least, the medication that she had made him drink were better at healing his wounds than anything that he'd had to drink before, in which case she would make a killing selling them to the masses. Following that train of thought, the stick she waved around him might have not been wood at all, but incense that helped with the healing process. It was a weak track that the train of thought went along, and even Harry would admit the chance that it was correct were one to one hundred.

On his fifth day in the manor, Harry had discovered that the paintings in the manor, or at least the one in his room could move. He'd discovered this quite by accident – a midnight stroll to the bathroom had resulted in a twisted game of grandmas footsteps with the painting which was on the wall facing the door to the rest of the manor.

This piece of knowledge, that he was in the house of a wizard, made Harry determined to look at the rest of the house and discover other wonders he was sure that the manor held. Of the owner of the manor Harry had composed a list of the things he knew:

· If Krista was to be believed (and from what Harry had seen he had had no reason to doubt her), he was in the house of a 'Cillian Franks'.

· Mr Franks was undoubtable a wizard

· He was also from an old family as hinted by the small family crests that were engraved on each corner of the bathroom door.

· For whatever reason, Franks wanted him alive and well, at least for the moment.

The list that he'd made didn't have anything on it that gave him cause for too much concern – why would his host waste good money on keeping him alive if only to kill him once he was better?

On his seventh day of confinement – one week after he had woken up, Harry was about to jump out of the window from lack of human contact – sure Matron Knowlton came in to check on him three times a day, but other than that he was left to his own devices. The matron did however provide something for him to do by occasionally providing him with books to read ("Peter Pan", "The Railway Children", and "Treasure Island" where just three of the books she bought him in his first week). He'd liked reading the books at first, but once he'd read them all once (and Treasure Island twice), he found that by the end of that seventh day he'd been jumping off the walls (almost literally).

From somewhere in the manor, a clock struck midnight, the inhabitant of the picture he'd caught moving finally relaxed and shifted out of its frame grumbling, unaware of the silent watcher. Harry had taken his chance, getting out of the large bed and softly walking around it, he'd caught his foot in the curtain and fell to the ground cursing.

He hadn't meant to rip it.

Creeping down the corridors in the manor, every shadow seemed to be Uncle Vernon coming to get him, something out of a nightmare or worse (to Harry's mind) the mysterious Mr Franks. In the darkness of midnight, Harry moved around the house.

The clock had just struck quarter past twelve when Harry came to a giant staircase that spiralled down and out of sight. Harry peered over the railing to the darkness of the space below. Looking back, Harry nodded to himself "Can't go back now," he said, and started off down the stairs holding tightly to the railing. He considered himself lucky that the pain medication was working, otherwise the midnight escapade would have fallen down at the hurdle.

The marble floor was cold on his bare feet, reaching the bottom of the staircase, Harry peered around, squinting through the darkness to see where his options lay. The front room was large, almost too large. Looking up, Harry was surprised to see a glint of something golden on the ceiling, he traced the light back to its source – a slight gap in the curtains over one of the many windows in the room. Going over to the window he pulled back the curtain fully and looked out over the silent grounds. The perfectly maintained lawn seemed spooky in the moonlight. Nothing moved. There was a temporary moment of silence.

"Rather beautiful isn't it?" A voice came from behind Harry, making him jump and spin around sharply. As he turned he exhaled and tensed his body, waiting for the reprimand for leaving his room.

The other person was cloaked in shadow, from where he stood, Harry could see that the stranger was much taller than he was, thin and gangly. Seeming to notice that he was being studied, the stranger stepped into the weak light provided by the open curtains. "Cillian Franks." He said, moving closer to Harry, hand outstretched. Harry shook it briefly before quickly pulling away.

"Harry Potter," the other boy, Cillian, was young. Harry thought that perhaps he was Mr Franks' son or some other relation that stayed in the house sometimes "Are you his son?"

"Sorry?"

"Mr Franks, are you his son or something?"

"No," the boy looked bashful for adding "I am Mr Franks."

"The man who owns the house?" Harry said, not quite believing the claim, surely, if the boy was the owner of the house surely he'd be much older than he looked.

"I'm the Lord of the Manor, this manor," the newly named Mr Franks ran his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture "It's been in the family for centuries, it past to me when my grandfather died."

"What about your father?" Harry asked, surely his father would have got the money and the property rather than Cillian – Uncle Vernon had been put in a foul mood when his father got all of the Dursleys grandfather had died and had got all of the money his grandfather had had.

"Don't have one," Cillian responded looking away, grabbing something out of the pocket of the dressing gown he was wearing, pointed it at the ceiling and muttered something that Harry couldn't hear. Suddenly the candles the lined the perimeter of the room were lit and burning away merrily. Harry looked around the room, taking it all in. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noted that Cillian tucked the stick back into his pocket.

"Much better," remarked Cillian, not at all awed by the magic that he'd just performed, he addressed Harry "Hot Chocolate? Or perhaps tea?"

Harry was silent for a second, then the pause became longer the becoming awkward in length "You can say what you want Harry."

Nodding quickly Harry thought for a second "Um… Hot Chocolate?"

The other boy smiled "I was hoping you would say that, this way." He let Harry off to the side of the room and through a door covered by a mirror. Harry walked close behind, staring slightly as the Manor Lord lit the way by holding the stick out in front of him, lighting up the passages in their various states of tidiness.

"These passageways go all through the house," Cillian commented as they wound through a particularly winding section "People get lost here all the time there's so many of them, I've put portraits before any of the really nasty places and threatened that if anyone fell off the map and were later found near them I'd white out the painting."

"Has everyone died in here?" Asked Harry, getting the mental image of someone getting so lost that they couldn't find any doors out of the tunnels and into the house.

"Oh yes, the manor has just about as much of an ugly history as the people in it," the duo navigated their way around a pile of books which were piled in the middle of the corridor "My great-great-uncle decided that he'd try to map them one time – the theory is that he managed to find another entry to the Executioners Way." Shrugging slightly the teen ignored the look Harry shot him.

"Do I even want to ask?"

"Long drop with a river at the bottom to dispose of the bodies." They came to the end of the corridor, so signalled by a wooden archway beyond which the path split into four directions. "Servants quarters, House Elf living space, the kitchen and the way to the rest of the house."

Cillian gestured to each of the passage ways in turn before leading Harry down the one he'd said led to the kitchen. A few meters down the passageway they reached the door, voices came from within. Cillian gestured to his lips to ask Harry for silence, Harry nodded and made himself scarce.

The door was opened and two very shocked faces greeted the wizards, a man and woman were sitting up on either side of the table. "Pontus, Iris, I thought you were meant to be in bed at this time in the morning?"

"I couldn't sleep and I accidentally woke Iris up when I was passing the girls wing," the one named Pontus quickly defended their actions "If I was mistaken to leave the wing this early in the morning I apologise sir."

"Be that as it may, what's your excuse Iris?"

"I thought it might have been someone breaking in," the girl admitted "I came out here to check before waking everybody else up."

Cillian nodded, Harry hid out of sight as the conversation continued. Eventually the girl let the two in the kitchen and brushed into him when she went down the corridor "Sorry," she muttered before noticing who exactly it was she was apologising to "Oh, Mr Potter, you're up, I might get some fresh sheets on that bed before heading back to bed then – they've not been changed all week!" She switched direction and started running, her pale yellow pyjamas disappearing around the corner that led to the rest of the house.

Taking that opportunity, Harry entered the room. Cillian and the man finished their discussion as he entered the room "Think about it, now Harry, should we get these hot chocolates going shouldn't we?"

He pulled out the stick and waved it around his head in a lassoing gesture, suddenly previously inanimate objects came to life – a pot dived to collect milk spilt by a glass bowl which was being filled with chocolate that was breaking itself into pieces. Both Harry and Pontus stared, Cillian on the other hand looked mildly annoyed as a bottle of cream went flying over his head.

"Shall we sit?" He suggested to the two who were gaping as the stove turned itself on gesturing to a bench that ran down the length of the kitchen, they conceded and soon the three of them were sitting around a small bench table (shortened considerably by Cillian so one side of the table didn't have two to the other sides one). "Now we're all seated, Harry this is Pontus, he's sort of a wizard."

"Sort of a wizard?" Harry asked curiously.

"He's a very confused individual," Cillian and Pontus smirked at one another.

"Not nearly as confused as yourself sir."

"I didn't quite hear that," Cillian said, he then changed the topic quickly, looking to Harry, his tone grew more serious "I imagine that you have some questions?"

"A few," Harry admitted, there was a moment of silence before Harry realised something that wiped the smile off his face "How did the girl out there know my name?"

"I knew that someone called Harry Potter would be in the house sometime soon, no reason given at the time but there have been a few theories suggested," the cups of hot chocolate arrived at the table, spoons still stirring the mixture.

"How did you know?" Harry asked, curiously – was there some magic that could see the future that the Manor Lord could see.

"A friend told me," was the only answer he got.

"A friend?"

"Yes, a friend I do have them you know."

Harry looked at Pontus "Him?"

Pontus smirked while Cillian shook his head, a slight grin on his face "No, not him, I'm sure you'll meet my friend sometime soon, he generally sticks his head out of the proverbial woodwork around this time of the year to get school supplies and the like."

"Was you're friend spying on me?" Harry said, suddenly suspicious "Did he kidnap me and bring me here?"

"You did that by yourself," Cillian said, trying to take a gulp of hot chocolate but burning his tongue in the process "And no, he wasn't spying on you in the conventional sense, he has a certain skill that allows him to see things that will happen. He doesn't like to mention the specifics which sometimes can get to be very annoying for we who do not have his gift."

"Oh," said Harry, sinking into silence. He took the opportunity to study the Lord of the Manor, deciding to study Pontus at a later time. Cillian didn't fit the part either of a Lord (Harry expected someone older and more regal) or the part off a wizards (weren't wizards meant to be old or something?).

"You know about magic?" Cillian asked "You realise that you're a wizard right?"

"Yeah, I know," replied Harry, taking a sip from his cup.

"Who told you?"

"A friend."

"I often wonder Cillian," Pontus said, as Cillian opened his mouth to no doubt ask who the friend was who had let the cat out of the proverbial bag "that everybody has one or two friends that naming may cause trouble for."

Cillian nodded and instead asked "Do you know about Hogwarts?"

"Didn't your friend tell you anything about this conversation? If they did you'd already know about what I did and didn't know." Leaning in towards Harry across the table Cillian added quietly.

"But then if I didn't ask these questions there might be something down the line that would change the pathway that we're all set on, and would you really trust someone that knows everything about you, every little detail without you ever having met or talked to them before?"

"I suppose not," Harry said "No I don't know about 'Hogwarts', what is it?"

"It's a giant castle in Scotland where most of the wizards and witches in the British Isles and Ireland are taught magic. You will be starting there in September."

"But I can't pay for anything! Surely I'd have to pay for some of the school supplies and the like in order to attend?"

"You do," Cillian conceded, "But I can pay, school supplies for two people instead of one really isn't going to break the bank of the Franks family."

"I couldn't take your hard earned money, it wouldn't be fair and what if you need it?"

"I couldn't spend that amount of money in several lifetimes let alone the one that I'm living now. It's not even hard earned money – most of it comes from the various illegal enterprises that the family ran throughout the centuries. It would be something new for it to be used for good for a change."

"Do you know anything about my family? Other than my aunt and my uncle I mean, do you know who my parents are?" The question was abrupt, and Cillian looked for a moment like he'd swallowed a sour grape, Pontus was looking at Harry with pity in his eyes.

"No, I do not." If Harry hadn't looked down at the table at that exact second, he would have seen the shocked looked that Pontus shot Cillian and the warning look that was returned to him.

Cillian looked at Pontus "Could you perhaps get the necessary books from the library, anything on Hogwarts, wizard history up to the current day, the first year textbooks that I had (though some of them, Harry, aren't on the school list this year) and I think one or two books on wizarding myths should do the trick."

"Alright," said Pontus standing up and picking up his hot chocolate "wouldn't be sleeping anyway. Night." He addressed the two wizards.

"Bye," Harry said.

"See you around kid." He left, and there was silence between the remaining two.

"What do you know about me?" asked Harry curiously, how much did the other boy know about what had happened at the Dursleys' he wondered.

"Harry Potter," Cillian said "he paused and had another, careful, sip of the hot chocolate "Eleven on the 31st of July, in about three days, half-blood, raised by muggles. I suspect," Cillian added "That my friend knows more than he told me, but getting that much out of him was a challenge and used up most of my allotted patience for the day."

"You have questions, don't you?" Cillian asked Harry after a moment's pause in their conversation "If you ask them now, I'll do my best to tell you the truth."

Harry thought about this, wondering which of the hundreds of questions that were floating around his head. He looked at Cillian and asked "Are the sticks you've been waving around a wand?" I wasn't the most pressing of questions but it was the first one out of his mouth.

Taking out the stick from the pocket he'd put it in, Cillian placed it on the table in-between the two of them "Yes, this is a magic wand Harry, nothing like the things people in the muggle world think of as 'magic wands' and way more dangerous than the muggle sort. I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said as Harry went to touch the wand, in explanation he said "certain wands don't like being picked up by anyone but their masters. People who touch some wands that are like that end up with one less finger or arm."

Harry pulled his hand away from the wand "What's it made out of?"

"Each wand's made of something different – mine's made of Alder and Cypress with a core of Phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches and it's inflexible," Cillian continued on "That friend of mine has a twelve inch, walnut and augurey tail feather wand, quite a sturdy wand to be honest," Cillian smiled "Every wand is different, other friends of mine have different combinations."

"How do you get them? I mean, do you ask for that type of wand and the shop owner gives it to you?" Harry didn't know what type of wand he'd ask for, it sounded too complicated with too many variations.

"The wand chooses the wizard, at least that's what everybody says. The best place to get a wand is Ollivanders' on Diagon Ally."

"Right." Harry took a sip of his hot chocolate and yawned.

"Tired yet?" Cillian asked, letting out a yawn of his own. Harry nodded "I'll show you back to your room then."

Both boys drained their hot chocolates and stood up. Cillian waved his wand around the room and the cups started to clean themselves up "It's probably best that the house elves don't realise that we were down here this morning – I'll tell you about house elves properly at a better time – they wouldn't say anything but I bet you fifty pound I'd have to deal with a cold bed over the Christmas holidays if I came home."

Leading Harry away from the kitchen, the teenager once again held out his wand in front of himself to light the way. Harry found himself emerging from different points in the corridor that never ceased to surprise him – one time they came out into a corridor from behind a painting and another time the two had been forced to get on their hands and knees to get through a door the seize of a radiator. It took them around five minutes to get back to Harry's room and by that time Harry was well and truly worn out. "Don't let the bedbugs bite," Cillian said in as they parted "Though if there are any bed bugs tell me so I can use a spell I've been wanting to try."

Closing the door to his room, Harry quickly slid under the covers of his bed (which had been remade with new sheets in his absence). He settled down and, within seconds, was dead to the world.

- ((o)) -

"Come on Daniel, wake up!" Leon was jumping on Daniel's bed, overexcited at the prospect of presents being opened and candles being blown out.

"I thought birthdays were meant to be a time of relaxing?" Daniel mumbled, still hoping for an hours more sleep.

"Relaxing's boring!" Leon started jumping on Daniel instead of his bed.

"Fine," Daniel grumbled, as the jumping failed to cease "fine!" He climbed out of his bed and stormed to his door only to be greeted by both his parents grinning like they were mischievous children.

"You set this up, didn't you?" Daniel accused them over the top of his brother's shoulder.

"The very idea!" His father grabbed at his chest in mock pain.

"Come on Daniel, the others are all waiting downstairs," he tried to pull Daniel out of the door by his hand but their parents stopped the two of them in the doorway.

"Daniel needs to get dressed silly," their mother explained as Leon pouted up at the two of them "You go down ahead of us and tell the others that the trip to Diagon Ally will be delayed another five minutes." All remains of sleepiness were drained from Daniel's face. Diagon Ally how could he have forgotten?

He vaguely registered his parents leaving him to get changed. Daniel's dad couldn't get leave for the day that they had been originally planning to go to Diagon Ally so the date had been changed instead to coincide with Daniel's birthday. After grabbing some clothing randomly – ending up with a bright orange, Quidditch t-shirt that Ron had given him a while ago, jeans and a pair of mismatched socks – one green and one yellow – unwilling to change clothing and waste more time, Daniel could only grimace at the clothes as he left his room.

Entering the living room, he was greeted by the sight of his family and friends stood in a semi-circle around the fireplace on the left side of the room. His Aunt Alice stood on the far side of the semi-circle, and it was she who drew the attention of the rest of the room – Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley, Mrs Weasley, Jenny, Leon, Daisy, Helena, Uncle Damian, Daniel's mother and his father – to his presence in the room. Ron and Neville ran over to Daniel and embraced him one after the other. "I thought that you were in Blackpool with your aunt?" Daniel addressed Ron.

"I managed to escape for the day," Ron smiled.

Neville gave Daniel a sorry look "Dad sends his apologies to you, he couldn't get any time off today – not with your dad having the day off too."

Daniel was about to say that it didn't matter when their conversation was halted by a commotion from the other side of the room "Why can't I go?" Jenny was complaining "I'm only a year younger than Daniel. I don't need a babysitter!"

"And I'm as tall as Neville," Leon had joined in the yelling "I should be able to go too – and I don't need someone here while you're away!"

Uncle Damian chimed in "Don't consider me a babysitter then – think of me as a house sitter and child sitter all rolled into one." The Potter parents looked slightly embarrassed at their children's antics.

"Are you sure that you can deal with all three of them Damian?" Daniel's father commented, shooting the younger children a warning look. His uncle nodded and picked up the youngest Potter child, groaning under the weight of the seven year old. He looked her in the eyes, grin on his face.

"I think that this one'll be my favourite today," Daisy giggled while Leon and Jenny exchanged worried looks – their Uncle Damian had a system of slipping sweets to them throughout the day and the favourite got the most sweets of all. Uncle Damian slipped a look at his watch, changing the way he was holding Daisy "I thought you lot had a schedule to keep?"

The other adults in the room – and Helena – looked at their watches, and their faces morphed into looks of shock "Right," Daniel's mother commanded the attention of the room "Molly, Alice, you go first, then you James and then the three boys. Helena, you go before me and I'll being up the rear."

The other's followed the instructions, by the time it came to Daniel's turn to step into the swirling green flames of the floo network. His uncle – his father's half-brother by Daniel's Grandmother – had led the three youngest Potter's out of the room with the promise of a walk in the park. His mother and Helena were in conversation, they broke off the conversation to give him encouraging smiles "Go on." His mother told him.

Stepping into the flames Daniel yelled "The Leaky Cauldron!"

There was swirling and spinning as he was in the floo system, looking into the rooms as they raced past his vision. Someone should really cover their fireplaces, Daniel thought to himself as he noticed people moving around the rooms behind the fireplaces. A minute passed of the swirling heat of the floo network before he saw Ron and the others waiting for him at the end of one of the fireplaces. He stepped forwards and fell onto the floor of the pub, dusty wood coming up to meet him as he tumbled.

Perhaps five minutes later, the tense wait that Daniel felt at his first trip to Diagon Ally was over and his mother and father led the group towards the back of the pub. The people in the pub stared at him in curiosity, their whispers asking if he – Daniel – was actually the Daniel Potter, the boy-who-lived. His father took out his wand and tapped the brick wall of a room outside of the Leakey Cauldron.

The passageway opened and the group stepped out onto the brightly coloured street of Diagon Ally.