Chapter 7 - New Information

Legilimancy.

Of course.

Harry snapped the book shut with a snap. How could he have been so stupid? He knew Occlumency, for Merlin's sake!

Frankly it was astounding that he had never come across the term while being taught, and then self-teaching when he surpassed Lily, Occlumency, but he'd always just thought of it in terms of preventing an invasion of his mind, and never put a name to said invasion.

The thought that Voldemort was a legilimens was rather disconcerting. Harry made a mental note to start practicing his Occlumency again.

"Konor, come on!" Michael called from the library entrance, receiving an irritated glare from Madam Pince.

Harry groaned. He'd forgotten that today there was an unofficial snowball competition, set up by the pair of Weasley twins, which in a moment of weakness he'd promised Michael he'd take part in. "I'll be out in a minute. You go."

Michael shook his head at the bookish Ravenclaw before leaving.

Harry perused the bookshelves for a few more minutes before a snowball came souring through the window he'd opened for some fresh air earlier, hitting him square in the face. He instantly stalked over to the window, but the culprit had run off.

Ah well. No harm in playing. He wasn't getting anywhere with his research anyway . . . Harry grabbed his cloak, hat and gloves from where he'd thrown them and went out to join the Ravenclaw team.


From one of the windows in Voldemort's tower, one could see a large expanse of the grounds, in this case the area where the four-way snowball fight was taking place.

Normally the Dark Lord would not be interested in the slightest by the juvenile antics, but he'd spotted a head of untidy raven hair on the winning team.

"Visus Emandare," he said, wand pointed at his eyes. His vision zoomed in on the young Ravenclaw, and a small smile curled his lips as he saw Evans directing snowballs at the other teams with his wand, out of view of all the other children who were thinking like muggles.

His enhanced vision picked up the silhouette of an owl heading towards him, and he cancelled the spell with a wave of his hand as he opened the window to let in the owl, which was carrying an advance copy of the Daily Prophet.

Unrolling the prophet, a cold smile stretched the Dark Lord's lips.

He'd have to make sure he was in the Great Hall for breakfast the next day.

There were bound to be some enjoyable reactions.


Harry awoke with a smile on the last day of term.

He would finally be able to talk to Lily about Voldemort, about his classes, about his friends, without having practically encode everything.

So when he walked into the great hall, a little late from having to repack his books, he was taken aback by the tense atmosphere.

"What's happened?" he asked Michael as soon as he sat down.

Michael wordlessly handed him the paper. Harry's eyes widened as he read the front page:

Twelve Resistance Members Arrested!

By Helen Vaskovski

Yesterday, our Lord's men acted on over a year's worth of accumulated information and, in a mass operation with over a hundred aurors deployed over Britain, twelve Resistance members have been captured. Their interrogation will result in enough information to 'bring down the last vestiges of Dumbleore's legacy', said Minister Samson.

The members arrested are as follows: Molly Weasley, Bill Weasley, Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, Sturgis Podmore, Madon Jants, Gordon Park, Mundugus Fletcher, Laura Denison, Dylan Lane, Emmeline Vance and Archie Ashton.

Evidence has suggested that five of the twelve were planning an attack on our Lord. They will be trialed after interrogations.

For more information on the Weasleys, turn to page 2. For more information on Ex-Auror "Mad-Eye" Moody, turn to page 3. For more informaton on the others captured, turn to page 4.

Aurors are still searching for Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Charlie Weasley, and of course Harry and Lily Potter. If anyone sees or hears a mention of their whereabouts, please alert the auror office.

Harry's head snapped up to the Gryffindor table. The Weasleys were nowhere to be seen . . . What would happen to them?

The reminder about Harry Potter was unwelcome, but as he subtly cast a charm to briefly enhance hearing, Harry could not hear many people mentioning 'Potter', and those that were had the general opinion that the pair were dead or long gone. Canceling the charm, Harry allowed a small smile to cross his face. Perfect.

Feeling red eyes on him once again, Harry smoothed out his expression. Voldemort had not made any attempt to speak with him after the first day, but just . . . watched him. Every meal the Dark Lord attended was punctuated by the sense of being stared at, and Harry didn't know why. Sure, he was top of his year, but he was still a first year, and so should be inconspicuous and unimportant to the ruler of wizarding Britain.

Apparently not.

Oh well. He was at least leaving in a couple of hours, so the next few weeks should (he crossed his fingers under the table) be Dark Lord free.


"Harry! Lunch!" Lily called.

Putting his book on non-verbal magic down, Harry entered the kitchen with a weight on his mind.

They were nearly a week into the holiday and he still hadn't told her exactly how interested Voldemort was in him.

"Mum," Harry started as Lily sat down. Lily looked at him questioningly. "You know I said Voldemort took an interest in me because of my spellwork?"

Lily nodded. "You don't have to be afraid of performing well, Harry, even if it does mean you get noticed."

Harry nodded his head. "I know. But with Quidditch as well - he hasn't spoken since the first day, but he keeps watching me, like he's assessing me-" Harry took a deep breath. "What if he suspects I'm Harry Potter?"

Lily smiled warmly at him. "Harry, don't worry. I'm sure he's just noticed how smart you are - there is no reason to link you to Harry Potter."

Harry gave a reluctant smile and went back to eating, feeling like a weight he hadn't admitted he was carrying had been lifted off his shoulders. A few minutes later, he paused again. "What about the competitions? Should I strategically fail or try my best?"

Lily responded instantly. "Try your best. Harry, if you learn one thing in life, it's to always try your best. A half-hearted attempt just ends in regret."

Harry smiled widely, his eyes, restored to their natural green for the holidays, brightening. He'd have to have a look at his dueling books again . . . And as for the spell creation, well, he couldn't really do anything yet as the objective wasn't released until February, but he could read up on the technique . . . He drifted off as he planned his training. He'd damn well do his best. I'll show them what a half-blood can do.


Voldemort did not like Christmas.

It made people stupidly emotional and full of sentiment, all wanting time off to give useless presents to their loved ones as a token of their pathetic feelings. The only saving grace was that it was easy to push bills through the Wizengamot with everyone looking the other way.

But this one was particularly bad. The five Weasley children - Percy, Fred, George, Ronald and Ginevra - whom he had no evidence against had to be put into the orphanages, which should have been simple but they'd put up a massive fight when he separated them, which had resulted in several tiring hours where he subtly threatened them before disregarding subtlety.

They should have been grateful - he'd kept the twins together.

In addition to that, the information given by the new prisoners, while resulting in two more successful arrests, had been far less informative than he'd anticipated, and if they weren't under Veritaserum he would have been convinced they were holding back.

There had been no success in finding any of the growing number of fugitives; the leads on Black and Lupin had lead to another dead end, while Charlie Weasley had disappeared off to Romania, a country who's government despised Britain.

He'd have to do something about improving bonds with other countries. After all, he had never intended to stop after conquering the country, and he had enough support now that the people would embrace a war . . . Provided he did not initiate it, of course.

Though a war against the whole of Europe would be both political and literal suicide. He would need allies.

Sensing Amelie outside the door, he called for her to enter.

"I've got the report on wands from Olivander, my Lord," she said, holding out a file. "Would you like me to sort through it?"

"No." He took the file, gesturing for her to leave.

The Dark Lord flicked through the bulky file. Olivander sold a lot of wands - more than he'd expected. He marked any entries where a young boy or woman had made the purchase, then going back to look at the highlighted entries again. Most he crossed off, recognising the names, but at some he paused.

Harrikon Evans: Oak, Dragon Heartsting, Eleven inches.

Hmm. Nothing remarkable, despite the boy's spellwork.

He turned over the page and stopped at one entry, his eyes narrowing.

Sam Jamison: Holly, Phoenix Feather, Eleven inches.

That was his wand! Well, not technically his, but brother to his . . . Hadn't he told Olivander not to sell it? Yes, he had. Stupid, foolish wandmaker.

Sam Jamison.

Voldemort ran the name through his head, and frowned. Nothing.

"Amelie." His apprentice appeared a moment later. "Run the name 'Sam Jamison' through our records. Description is-" he quickly found the accompanying description to the name "-around eleven years old, male, dark hair, green eyes and glasses."

Amelie nodded, but then stopped at the door. "My Lord, excuse me but isn't that the same description as Harry Potter?"

Voldemort froze. Surely it wouldn't be that easy, surely Potter wouldn't make the mistake of entering Diagon Alley without a glamour, but . . . Jamison. Son of James.

"Run the check, Amelie. As soon as- now, in fact."

Amelie disappeared.

Voldemort waited, hardly daring to hope . . . If Sam Jamison didn't show up on record, they might just have a lead . . . And didn't it all fit? His prophesied nemesis, his horcrux, wielding his brother wand . . .

The door opened to reveal am out-of-breath Amelie. "We have no Sam Jamison on our records, my Lord."

Voldemort rose. "Postpone all my meetings for the next few hours, Amelie."

"Yes, my Lord."

He Disapparated into Diagon Alley, quickly glamouring himself to avoid recognition.

He had a wandmaker to question.


Harry had a good Christmas.

Lily had bought him several new books along with a box of muggle notebooks and a nice muggle fountain pen; when it came to writing, muggles had far superior methods to the parchment and quill used by most wizards.

He had, with leftover pocket money from the year, bought her a new bag to replace her worn-out one, as well as a book on household spells. For all her magical ability, Lily had still been muggle-raised, and thus was unaware of some spells and techniques to use around the home.

It was quiet, and Lily had her moments where she gazed off into space with a sad smile on her face - remembering James, Harry had guessed years ago - but they were fewer and in shorter length than last year, which Harry considered an improvement.

He didn't ever want Lily to forget James, but it did her no good to be sad.

Harry had also received a present from Michael, another book, and was glad he'd followed his mum's suggestions and bought Michael a new gobstones set.

Harry went to bed late on Christmas Day, having curled up in a chair with his new books and lost track of time, and was surprised at the small owl that was tapping on his window.

Yawning, he let it in. "Hello, little one," he said, feeding it one of Hedwig's owl treats (to which the snowy owl hooted in irritation) and taking the small scroll it carried.

The parchment held only one sentence: If anyone asks, your wand is Oak and Dragon Heartstring.

Harry turned it over, but there was no signature.

The only person who knew about his wand was Olivander. Had he been asked about his wand? Harry's brow creased as he yawned again, placing the note on his bedside table as he clumsily changed into his bedclothes and crawled under the covers.

I'll think about it in the morning, he told himself as he fell asleep.


"I ordered you not to sell that wand," Voldemort said in a deceptively soft voice.

The old man met his gaze. "I sell a wand to whomever matches it."

Voldemort sneered. "Crucio."

Olivander fell to the floor, his mouth open in a silent scream, thrashing until Voldemort released the spell. "That was for disobeying my orders," the Dark Lord said calmly. "If it wasn't for the fact your sale of the wand may lead to Harry Potter you would not be selling another. Do you understand?"

Olivander nodded.

"Now, tell me," Voldemort said, his wand pressed into the wandmaker's neck, "who accompanied 'Sam Jamison' when he bought the wand?"

Olivander swallowed. "A woman, my Lord."

"Describe her."

"Young. She had red hair, and I think green eyes," Olivander said slowly.

Voldemort smiled, excitement rising up in his chest. "When were they here?"

"The last week of August - the twenty-fourth if I'm not mistaken."

"Anything else?"

Olivander shook his head.

The Dark Lord stepped back. "Thank you for your assistance. I assure I will be in touch if I need anything else." He smirked at Ollivander's wide eyes.

Pulling his hood up, Voldemort strode out of the shop. On the twenty-fourth of August Harry and Lily Potter had been in Diagon Alley.

It was a small lead, but it was still a lead.

The Dark Lord stalked through the shadows of the Alley. Someone would remember the pair, surely - a shopkeeper, a beggar, a customer - and if they didn't tell him, it would be easy enough to legilimize them.

Voldemort smiled as he stepped towards his first target.


Leaving for Hogwarts again was hard. Harry didn't want to step into his Konor identity after having two carefree weeks at home with Lily.

He tried not to let his mother sense this, as she would still lean toward taking Harry out of school, regardless of the interest that would cause, if she knew he was unhappy.

Really, he wasn't unhappy. School was boring, but the library was large and he was looking forward to the competitions, as well as the match against Hufflepuff at the end of January.

After hugging Lily goodbye - a brief hug in case anyone was watching, of course - he made his way into an empty compartment, flicking a mild repulsion charm on the door to stop anyone disturbing him. The journey took a good five hours and he intended to make full use of the time with his research.

As he had expected, upon leaving the train on arrival he was immediately accosted by Michael, who exclaimed, "Where were you?"

"On the train."

Michael blinked at the deadpan delivery before rolling his eyes and getting into a horseless carriage with Harry, Anthony and Timothy Morris.

Harry took the opportunity to inconspicuously study Morris. The boy never said much, following Anthony around much of the time, and was quite average in his spellwork, but there was something off about the other boy that instantly put Harry on his guard.

But he seemed completely ordinary. The average introvert with the desire for friendship but lacking the means to make one and so follows someone around.

Harry resolved to keep an eye on the boy.


It almost felt like he'd never left; the Christmas decorations had come down, and students were back into lessons the day after Harry arrived.

Harry did find it quite amusing how he often spotted some of his professors with their noses buried in lesson notes before his class, as they tried to find a first year spell which he hadn't already mastered.

Most had already given up and moved onto second year material.

This did mean lessons were getting marginally more challenging, but most of his entertainment still came from the only lessons he could duel in: Dark Arts and Defence. More often than not both Avery and Rivera paired him with Malfoy, and each time Harry thoroughly enjoyed taking the Pure-blood snot down a peg.

He sincerely hoped he would be up against Malfoy in the dueling competition, where he would be allowed to cause actual harm.

Aside from the occasional bout of monotony, the only damper on the month was the fact that Ravenclaw lost their match against Hufflepuff. Harry had caught the snitch, but not until after Hufflepuff's chasers were one hundred and sixty points ahead, as within the first two minutes of the match their keeper Sue Li had taken a bludger to the head and was out of the game. Unfortunately, they didn't have a reserve keeper, and so Hufflepuff managed to score nearly every minute.

Harry was just glad they'd only lost by ten points.


The first of February dawned with a rare blue sky.

Harry was one of the very first students up; the notice board in the common room had been updated with the rules for the competitions.

Harry scanned them. The dueling rules were as expected, mainly detailing the structure of the competition - the only rule was that you could not use the Killing Curse. The actual competition was to be spread over the next few months, with the first qualifying round in two weeks.

Enchantments was simply to create a charmed object, with the due date in April. They were to be marked on usefulness, how long the enchantments would hold and how skillfully the spells were woven into the object.

The broom race was staged like the dueling, with each round one week after a dueling round.

The final one was spellcrafting. Harry's eyes sped down the rules, a smile slowly forming. The only limitations were that it had to be a defensive spell, and the incantation could not be more than ten syllables.

What fun.

Plans and ideas already forming in his mind, Harry headed back upstairs to grab his bag before going to the library, making a small detour to the nearly-empty hall to grab a few pieces of toast.

He even almost managed to ignore the bright gaze fixated on him from the center of the staff table.


Voldemort, for the first time in quite a while, could honestly say he was excited.

He had a lead on Harry Potter. Several shop assistants - from the apothecary, from the pet store and from Flourish & Blotts - had said they remembered a small dark-haired boy with a red-haired woman. The information hadn't turned anything else up but it did suggest Potter had been buying school supplies, which made Voldemort wonder - had Lily Potter somehow managed to send her son to a magical institution outside of Britain? It shouldn't be possible, not with the border wards, but he'd check with Karkaroff in Durmstrang, and his spies in Beaxbatons, just in case.

Of course, there was technically also the possibility the boy had come to Hogwarts, but that would be such a stupid course of action Voldemort dismissed it almost as soon as it occurred to him. Besides, he was aware of all the first year boys' home lives, and none of them featured living in hiding.

Furthermore, Konor Evans had just strode into the hall, picked up breakfast and strode out just as quickly with a planning face. The boy by all sources spent a lot of time in the library, and the Dark Lord would have rubbed his hands together in anticipation if it wasn't a mainly metaphorical action.

The onset of the dueling competition couldn't come sooner.


Bit of a filler chapter I'm afraid, which is the reason for the obscene amount of scene-jumping and time skips, but hopefully enjoyable anyway.

Regarding the pairing, nothing will happen until Harry is at least fourteen/fifteen. It may be slash, it may not - I have no definite plans.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed :D