A/N Thanks for all the favourites and follows since I put up the last chapter, means a lot.
Disclaimer: I filed for a lawsuit years ago but still no luck, this 'JK Rowling' lady still owns Harry Potter
Sort-of-warning: Bit of 'coarse language' in this but they are usually used as adjectives to describe our favourite boy-who-lived-to-annoy-Harry. There's also a bit of violence towards the end but nothing too bad
HP and TLTNW, Year 1, Chapter 9: Well, what can you do?
Quirinus Quirrell stood facing Oliver, who was putting on a 'tough' face and brandishing his wand.
"But Snape tried to kill me!" Oliver spat at Quirrell
"What do they teach you in schools these days? Have you never read a mystery novel? The most obvious villain, Snape in this case, is never the real culprit," Quirrell held an air of intellectual superiority, "Snape was a decoy. Not intentionally of course, he brought unnecessary attention to himself,"
"B-but, Snape did try to kill me, didn't he?"
"So innocent," Quirrell laughed a hollow laugh
"Snape didn't try to kill me? That's impossible, I saw him, and Ron saw him!"
"Fool, Snape was trying to save you. I was trying to bring you down but that bastard Snape kept countering me. Such a pity it was a wasted effort, I'm going to kill you anyway," Quirrell snapped his fingers and ropes wound round Oliver tightly, restricting his movement, "Now, about this mirror, what do you know?"
"N-n-nothing," Oliver stuttered
"Liar!"
"I d-don't know anything, really,"
"If I were you, Mr Potter, I'd tell the person who could kill you at any moment what they want to know,"
"My father will hear of this! He'll have you thrown in Azkaban!"
"Shut. Up. This mirror holds the secrets of the Stone and you will help me get the Stone,"
"If you're so powerful, why don't you make a Stone?"
"Pfft…Alchemy is a precise art. Powerful as my lord may be, Alchemy takes a lifetime to master,"
"But –" before Oliver could say anything, Quirrell had levitated him closer to the mirror
"What do you see?"
Oliver struggled against the ropes and closed his eyes, "You are evil,"
"There is no good and evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it," Quirrell said, sounding like he'd rehearsed it many times, "Look into the mirror, what do you see?"
"I don't understand, why is the mirror so important?"
"For a self-proclaimed child prodigy, you're somewhat lacking in the prodigy department, aren't you?" Quirrell sneered before beginning to mutter to himself.
"Who are you talking to?"
"The boy knows…the boy knows…use him!" a voice that came from Quirrell, but not from Quirrell at the same time. Quirrell snapped his fingers once more and the ropes fell from around Oliver and disappeared. He motioned for Oliver to walk closer to the mirror, "I will ask you again. What do you see?"
Oliver peered at the mirror. He saw his reflection, a little bit older. The older Oliver was being patted on the back by an older Ron. Dumbledore shook his hand and handed him the Quidditch cup. He was still confused, what did Quirrell want with the mirror?
"Um, I'm shaking hands with Professor Dumbledore, I've won the Quidditch cup," Oliver turned to Quirrell and the image in the mirror vanished.
"My lord, does he lie?"
"Let me speak to him…face to face!" Quirrell-but-not-Quirrell rasped. Quirrell smiled, reaching up to unwrap his turban. As the turban slowly unwound, Oliver felt liquid fear swirling in his stomach. The turban fell to the floor, leaving Quirrell's bald head. Quirrell slowly turned around. The back of Quirrell's head was truly horrifying. It was a pale white and had eerie red eyes staring out of it. The face was very serpentine, with slits for nostrils.
Oliver raised his wand and shouted, "PETRIFICUS TOTAL-"
Throughout this affair, Harry had been watching intently. When Oliver cast his spell, he had stunned the boy before he could finish the incantation. He levitated Oliver to the entrance to the chamber and cast a strong shield around him.
Harry stepped forward, leant against an ornate pillar and cast the counter-charm to his invisibility charm, Adaperio. "Evening Quirrell, Gracious Lord Voldemort,"
"Quirrell, bring him to me!" Voldemort ordered
"No need, I'll come to you," Harry said cordially before Quirrell could forcibly drag him to the mirror. He walked forward, face neutral.
"Harry Potter…we meet again," Voldemort snarled as Harry drew nearer, "Though, it must be said that I look rather worse for wear than I did during our previous encounter,"
"You could say that,"
"You dare to speak to my Lord in such a tone?" Quirrell called out
"He is right, Quirrell. Look at me now, I am a shadow of my former self. Once I obtain the Elixir of Life, I will be able to truly live again. Boy, the old fool Dumbledore must've trained you, you must know how to get the Stone,"
Harry laughed, "He never trained me,"
"Never?" Voldemort actually sounded taken aback
"Well, why would he?"
"Were you not there on that night 10 years ago?" Voldemort enquired rhetorically, "You put me in this pathetic state,"
Harry stood there in silence. A maniac grin spread across Voldemort's face, "He thought it was the other brat, didn't he? Wise old Albus Dumbledore got it wrong, he thought it was that brat lying by the door!"
"It would appear that Dumbledore made…a mistake," Harry replied, flexing his scarred hand
"Albus has overlooked you for your whole life, hasn't he? Join me, have your revenge,"
"I'll never join you, I'd rather retain my humanity," Harry replied coldly
"I may be without a body but I can still sense the power in you," Voldemort drew closer to Harry, "Join me. Join me and rise to power beside me. Join me and you will become great,"
Harry flinched backwards, "Never,"
"Oh, so brave! My Death Eaters are many things but they are not brave, I could do with some bravery in my ranks,"
Harry sidestepped Voldemort and looked into the mirror. His reflection grinned at him and tossed the Stone up into the air, catching it and putting it into his pocket. His reflection winked mischievously at him, turned around and walked away into darkness. He felt something heavy drop into his left pocket.
"Potter, where is the Stone?" Voldemort hissed
"I don't know, maybe you should ask Quirrell," Harry walked around the host body to talk to Quirrell, "Quirrell, do you know where the Stone is?" Quirrell whimpered
"Where is the Stone? You will give it to me!" Voldemort demanded
"Oh well, I don't really have much to lose, what with the whole shunned by my family thing. Maybe I should give it to you," Harry pretended to ponder this for a moment
"Yes, child, give the Stone to me and we shall rise to power together!"
"I'm not sure about that last part, but I'll take a gamble" Harry shrugged and reached into his pocket and pulled out the red stone. Voldemort was surprised but gleeful.
"Quirrell, take the Stone,"
Quirrell turned around and snatched the stone out of Harry's hand. Harry started to walk towards the exit but suddenly turned around and punched Quirrell square on the nose with his right hand curled into a fist. To Harry's surprise, a burning smell hit his own nose and he saw smoke rising from Quirrell's face. Quirrell dropped the stone, letting it shatter and held his hand to his face.
"MASTER!" Quirrell screamed in agony
"GET HIM!" Voldemort cried, disregarding his host's pain
Quirrell leapt onto Harry, attempting to pin him to the ground. Quirrell screamed, clearly in immense pain but determined to impress his master. Harry pressed his scarred hand to Quirrell's face and reached for his dagger. Harry's hand shook violently as he held the blade over Quirrell. ^A life is a life, no matter how corrupted^ the Voice warned him. Harry inhaled sharply and struck the man in the chest, a solitary tear escaping and trailing down his cheek. Quirrell vanished, leaving Harry's bloody dagger to fall onto the stone floor of the chamber. Voldemort's ethereal form seemed to snarl at Harry before disappearing into the depths of the fateful chamber.
Harry's right hand was covered in blood and dust, his scar had burst open and pain surged up his arm. He slowly rose, and levitated Oliver to the base of the mirror, which he then proceeded to shatter with one glance at his reflection. He looked at the remnants of the stone and banished the red dust. He reached into his left pocket, relieved to find that the real Stone was still there. It was a shame that he'd had to use his red chaos emerald as a decoy, he'd made it without magic when he was younger. He was left to his own devices as a child and he had discovered muggle culture through his one friend at primary school. He had adored the Sonic the Hedgehog games and had painstakingly carved the red emerald out of a block of red Perspex that his friend Lloyd had taken from his dad's workshop for him. He had lost contact with Lloyd after leaving for Hogwarts and though they occasionally saw each other at the local swimming pool, the friendship had run its course. Lloyd had found it odd that Harry never invited him over to his house. But then again, Harry never spoke about his family. He had mentioned a younger brother when they had first met in reception (A year above preschool (kind of kindergarten) and a year below year 1 in England) but had never spoke of him again.
Harry scratched at the Oliver's scar until it began to bleed. He created some superficial wounds and used the heel of his shoe to bruise the boy's arm. Harry placed the real Stone in Oliver's palm and strode out of the chamber, making sure to cast the invisibility charm on himself. He passed a group of professors, including Severus, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sprout and Flitwick, all desperately climbing over the rubble in the chess chamber to try and get to Oliver. Harry noticed that Nurse Greenwich, one of Madam Pomfrey's assistants, was crouched over an unconscious Hermione. He spotted the parchment he had given Daphne poking out from behind a large chunk of marble – a rook by the look of it – and picked it up. It read 'H, this may seem a little unethical but the girl was getting irritating so I stunned her and got out of here. D'. Getting out of there was probably wiser than Daphne had thought it was, Dumbledore probably would've seen through her veil when he entered the chamber.
Harry yawned, it was definitely well past midnight and the castle was asleep, unaware of the events unfolding in the chambers. He walked lightly from the third floor up to Ravenclaw Tower, flaring the others to let them know he was ok. He entered his room and collapsed on the bed, the darkness enveloping him as soon as his head hit the pillow.
0o0o0
Harry was lying in a field full of blue grass and he was staring up at a pale green sky dotted with purple clouds. He sat up and looked around, his surroundings blurred as he moved his head. He stood up, finding himself faced with a large, turquoise cartoon rabbit. The rabbit looked him up and down and began to speak, "Harry. Harry!" that was weird. The rabbit was speaking in Atlas' voice.
"Harry?" the rabbit repeated, "Oh, leave him to wake on his own, Atlas," that was even stranger, the second time the rabbit had spoken, Ana's voice had come out of its mouth. Harry reached out and grabbed at the rabbit. The rabbit's ears morphed into magenta spikes and Ana's face came into focus.
"Harry!" She smiled at him, "Guys, he's awake,"
Harry glanced around, happy to see that his friends hadn't carted him off to the hospital wing.
"Morning, soldier," Atlas' grinning face appeared, he had dark circles under his eyes but otherwise, he looked fine, "You were asleep for a while, but you'll be pleased to hear that we won the Quidditch Cup!"
Harry smiled at the people gathered felt subtle pain in his hand, though his scar had healed. He hoisted himself out of bed, muscles aching. Daphne rose from her chair beside his bed to help him but he waved her away.
"Give me a few minutes," Harry called as he headed to his bathroom
Harry showered and changed into a fresh set of school robes. He inspected himself in the mirror. Despite his shower, he still looked rather dishevelled. He had bags under his eyes and his hair, having been dried quickly by a towel, was sticking up in random places. He put on some of the cologne Atlas had gotten him for his birthday, Atlas' attempt at a manly gift.
Harry sat on his bed and began to recount the night's events after he had left Daphne with Hermione.
"Merlin, Harry, Quirrell?" Atlas whispered in amazement, the DADA teacher had seemed so powerless and meek.
"Yeah. I wonder what Dumbledore has told Oliver," Harry pondered
"I think I can help you there," Lucy said, "the great and powerful Dumbledore forgot to put up a silencing charm when he was talking to Oliver in the Hospital Wing," Harry had seen Oliver out of the corner of his eye in the Hospital Wing, surrounded by sweets and cards. Lucy continued, "I pretended to be asleep and heard the whole thing,"
Harry's eyes lit up and he jumped off of the bed, diving into his trunk and digging out what looked like a small compact mirror.
"Makeup?" Atlas laughed, "Your answer is makeup? I know you get a bit of acne now and again but I think makeup is a bit extreme,"
"No," Harry opened the mirror and it expanded into a small basin containing a misty liquid, "I present my Pocket Pensive, pending patent," the four looked at the basin, unsure what a Pensive even was, "A Pensive allows you to view memories," he elaborated, passing the Pensive around. When the device was handed back to him, he lifted his wand to Lucy's right temple.
"Harry, what exactly are you doing?" Lucy looked out of the corner of her eye and focused on the wand
"Extracting the memory," Harry replied and shifted the wand slightly lower
"Right…how exactly do you do that?"
"I just need you to focus on the memory of Oliver and Dumbledore,"
Lucy nodded, "Ok," as she spoke, Harry began to draw a silvery-blue, ethereal thread from Lucy. He let the thread fall into the Pensive, swirling in slightly with the tip of his wand. He then reached into his robe pocket and produced 5 contact lens cases.
"Harry, are those muggle bottle tops?" Atlas held the case up to his face and began to unscrew the 'bottle top'. He was about to tip it upside down when Harry decided it was best to stop Atlas before he spilled the fluid inside the case. Harry removed a lens from the case and submerged it in the now blue-tinged misty liquid in the Pensive. He repeated this for all of the lenses and showed the others how to put in the contact lenses.
0o0o0
The five appeared in the Hospital wing, but were all aware that this was not quite real. Their peripheral vision was blurry and dark and their vision had a blue-grey tinge to it. They saw the figure of Albus Dumbledore approaching a bed surrounded by gifts, sweets and brightly, almost nauseatingly brightly, packaged wizarding chocolate. In the bed sat the lump that was Oliver Potter.
"Sir?" mumbled Oliver, bleary eyed and scratching his hair.
"My boy!" a broad smile lit up the headmaster's face, "I trust Madame Pomfrey
"But sir, Quirrell, he has the Stone!" Oliver bolted upright and made to leave his bed
Dumbledore patted the boy's arm, "Now, now, Oliver. Quirrell doesn't have the Stone,"
"B-but?"
"Relax, it has been sorted. More precisely, you have sorted it," Dumbledore chuckled and reached into his pocket, unwrapping a sherbet lemon.
"But sir, who does have the Stone?"
"Nobody, it has been destroyed,"
"Destroyed?"
"Yes, Nicolas and Perenelle feel that if the Stone was to fall into the wrong hands then the whole world, magical and muggle, would be put in jeopardy,"
"B-but…Hermione said that they'd die without the Stone!"
"They have enough Elixir to deal with the passing on of their assets and the like, but then, I'm afraid, they will indeed die,"
"…they'll die," Oliver whispered, rather taken aback by Dumbledore's jovial tone
"They have lived for centuries, my boy, they have lived many lifetimes and now it is time to set sail on another adventure,"
"How is dying an adventure? How can they buy things or eat when they die!"
Dumbledore's face showed a hint of dismay but continued semi-cheerfully, "As I said, they have lived long enough on this side of the veil,"
"Sir?"
"Yes my boy?"
"If I had a galleon for every time he uses the phrase 'my boy', I'd be a billionaire," Atlas commented from where they were stood next to the bed. It was true, the headmaster's perpetual 'my boy-ing' was getting tiresome.
"Well, sir, um, is vol...You-Know-Who dead?" Oliver asked, fear filling his eyes
"Voldemort, Oliver, call him Voldemort,"
"V-Voldemort, is he dead?"
"No, my boy, he is not,"
"I will defeat him!" Oliver said determinedly, raising a porky fist
"Easier said than done, Oliver. He is not truly alive, so he cannot be killed. He will show no mercy, you see how he left Quirrell die? He is as ruthless to his followers as he is to his enemies. However, he can be weakened to a point of no return,"
"I…but…how?"
"We shall commence training this summer,"
"Sir? How did I defeat V-Voldemort the first time around?"
"Sometimes it is better to tread carefully when it comes to the truth. I will answer any questions you have when you are of age,"
"But?"
"I will say no more, Oliver," the headmaster said firmly before looking around at the piles of gifts for Oliver, "Ah!" he exclaimed, picking up a gold and purple chocolate frog box, "Chocolate frogs! I wonder who I'll get?" he snapped the chocolate in half, giving the larger half to Oliver, who, in Harry's opinion, hardly needed feeding up, "Ah, it's Bertie Bott! It's a shame that I already have him, maybe you could take it for young Ronald? I hear he is quite the collector,"
"Thanks sir! Another thing, sir, why does Snape hate me?"
"Professor Snape doesn't hate you,"
"Why does he treat me like he does?"
"Because your father saved his life,"
"But…he should worship me then?"
"Professor Snape will never be able to accept what your father did,"
"I don't deserve to be treated like this, my father will be informed,"
"Now, now, there's no need for that,"
"How come the brat isn't treated like a mudbl –" Oliver began
"Oliver Sirius Potter! You will not use such language,"
"But Hector and Atticus say – "
"Young Hector has been led astray by foul ideas, I will not have my prodigy using such foul language," Hector and Atticus Macmillan had been obsessed with pureblood superiority since a young age, though their brother Ernest had try to discourage their blossoming anti-muggle views, and when their parents had introduced them to the youngest Potter, the two brothers began to influence Oliver with his ideas.
"Anyway, what about the brat?"
"Your brother has some sort of arrangement with the Professor, I don't like to delve,"
"Merlin, he makes it sound like Snape and I are in a loving relationship," Harry muttered
Oliver barked with laughter and the Headmaster patted his knee in a grandfatherly manner before standing, waving a farewell to Madam Pomfrey. Harry mused that Dumbledore was probably the only elderly man allowed to pat young boy's knees without repercussions. Their surroundings darkened and lightened all at once, causing a strange sensation to overwhelm the 5 as they were thrown back into reality.
"Gits," Atlas proclaimed as soon as they had come to their senses
"Wankers," Daphne added
"Arseholes," Lucy unexpectedly said, out of character
"Excuse me if I punch the little punk at some point during the feast," Ana said as she removed the lenses from her eyes
"Feel free to, but see Luce or At afterwards so they can tend to your hand, that much fat could crush your hand on impact," Harry deadpanned.
0o0o0
The five spent the rest of that day by the lake, enjoying the sunshine as Professor Flitwick had advised them to do a few days prior. Harry sat at the edge of the lake thinking about Merlin knows what whilst whittling away at a stray bit of wood. Ana and Daphne played wizard's chess, sending Harry concerned looks every once in a while. They knew that they should leave the raven haired boy to his own devices, they always had when he was in one of this thinking moods, but that didn't mean they didn't worry about him. Atlas was reading a muggle book called 'Twilight' that Harry had given him whilst smirking. He had sat on the grassy bank and attempted to begin reading as Lucy laughed at him, refusing to tell him what she found funny. He was now on page 154 and knew that he really shouldn't be enjoying it. Lucy's head was on his chest and she was snoring softly, having fallen asleep at around page 30, her giggles at his book subsiding into a lull of silence.
"Come on mate," Atlas lightly tapped Harry's shoulder as darkness began to settle and Filch's lantern (I'm aware that this sounds like an awful euphemism) was visibly making its way towards them.
Atlas and Harry said goodbye to the girls as they entered the Great Hall for the annual end of year feast. Blue and Bronze banners hung proudly and he enchanted ceiling was sparkling. The hall was full of chattering students and Arnie called the two over to sit with him and the rest of the Quidditch team, including a beaming Evan and his new girlfriend, Cho. The team laughed and joked as they waited for the feast to begin.
"So, the new couple on the block, eh?" Atlas teased as he nudged Evan
"Er, yeah," Cho blushed and laughed
"So what about you and that Hufflepuff, Atlas?"
It was Atlas' turn to blush, "Urm...Lucy?" he coughed
"Yeah, you and her?" Evan's blush had reduced and his cheeky smile had returned
"Well we –" Suddenly the hall fell silent. Harry turned to see what had caused the students to cease their talking. Oliver had entered the hall, smiling charismatically. A loud cheer erupted and Ron ran up to Oliver and patted him on the back, leading him to the seat he had saved for him. Even after the cheering and clapping died down, people were still whispering about their hero.
For the second time, the hall fell silent. But this time, there was no cheering. Dumbledore took his place at the high table and tapped his knife against his goblet.
"Hello, greetings, salutations to you all!" he began cheerfully, casting his twinkling eyes over the students, "Before we begin enjoying the marvellous feast, I would like to review the year…the house of the wise won the Quidditch cup and I would like to congratulate Arnold and his team on that, yes, thank you…I do hope you have learnt many magical wonders and made your parents extremely proud…Now, on to what many of you will consider to be the most important event of the year, the awarding of the House Cup! In fourth place, Gryffindor with two hundred and forty-four points; in third, Hufflepuff with three hundred and sixty-seven points; in second, Slytherin with four hundred and sixteen and in first, Ravenclaw has four hundred and thirty-two,"
The Ravenclaws jumped up and cheered, clapping and slapping each other on the back.
"Yes, yes," Dumbledore waved down Ravenclaw's celebrations, "however, I must take recent events into account and adjust the totals accordingly," the Ravenclaws lost their glow, "First, to Miss Hermione Granger for level headedness in the most stressful of situations, fifty points! Secondly, to Mr Ronald Weasley, I award fifty points for the best played game of chess I have seen in years,"
Ron's face flushed bright red and Percy smiled broadly at his younger brother, Ron was shaping up to be quite the little champion.
"Third to Mr Oliver Potter, for triumphing in the face of adversity and immeasurable courage, I award Gryffindor house seventy-five points!"
The looks of joy that had graced the Ravenclaws' faces mere minutes before were now long forgotten. Gryffindor had surpassed Slytherin and was now less than 20 points behind Ravenclaw.
"Lastly, to Mr Neville Longbottom, for displaying outstanding courage by standing up to his friends, I award fifteen points,"
"Bullshit!" Atlas muttered, "Neville hates Oliver and Ron," his words drowned out by the raucous whooping and cheering of the Lions. Ravenclaw sat there, stunned. They knew better than to protest loudly against the blatant favouritism. They looked at one another, muttering about bloody ponces and barmy headmasters. Evan and Atlas began a debate on whether or not the points were fair, with Evan arguing that Oliver and co had performed brilliantly and Atlas arguing that Dumbledore had been too generous.
Dumbledore, still smiling, clapped his hands and the banners lining the hall vanished and were replaced by scarlet and gold hangings. Harry scowled at Dumbledore, this is why he hated the man. Professor McGonagall had at first been taken aback by the bestowing of points at such a late time but was pleased that Gryffindor had broken Ravenclaw's winning streak. Professor Flitwick shook McGonagall's good naturedly but was clearly disappointed. Winning the cup always boosted morale within the house. Harry caught the eye of a slightly disgruntled looking Flitwick, who shook his head and shrugged as if to say 'well, what can you do?'
The headmaster clapped his hands again and mountains of food appeared on the table. There were plates of golden roast chicken and fountains of orange juice. Personally, Harry was looking forward to the treacle tart, prepared by the talented house elves. At the high table, each head of house cast a spell. The Slytherins found the incantation for a spell that would reveal their exam results engraved on their plates. The Hufflepuffs' goblets suddenly sprouted green shoots that grew into plants with envelope-like flowers that contained their results. The Gryffindors' found that the food they had put on their plates had transformed into results envelopes. The Ravenclaws looked up and saw dozens of winged envelopes flying down into their hands. The older pupils were used to this but for the first years, it was mesmerising.
Harry had best grades of his year, followed by Daphne and Atlas. Hermione, the girl that followed Ron and Oliver around everywhere, had got first in her year. Oliver had come in at fifth, this puzzled Harry as Oliver had been away training every summer since the boys were young and had gone to a wizarding prep school. He had expected experience to overcome natural talent. Apparently, in Oliver's case, practice didn't make perfect.
When they returned to their dormitories, everything had been packed and loaded onto the Hogwarts Express. This had always bothered Harry, he knew what the house elves were like, always trying to be helpful even when their help was anything but. He hated anybody interfering with his belongings, especially when they were capable of the magic the elves had. After the heads of house had given their end of year speeches and handed out the small medallions (bearing their house crest, the name of the accolade given and their name) for, among many others, most house points, best performance in the year for their house (aptly named the 'Highest Achieving *house* *number*th year') and the *house founder* Award (for the best pupil as voted for by their house), the students gathered in the corridor outside the doors of the great hall.
Harry had placed his medallions, one engraved 'Highest Achieving 3rd year', another engraved 'Highest Achieving Ravenclaw 3rd year', one engraved 'Rowena Ravenclaw Award Winner 1991-1992' and several engraved 'Distinction Awarded in *subject*', in a small box already containing several from his previous years. He really needed to organise them properly. Perhaps he could purchase something on his trip to Diagon Alley to get his school supplies. Perhaps.
Filch stood at the exit, waving over each year at a time, alphabetically, to give them their 'under Ministry of Magic order 293, all underage wizards and witches are prohibited from the use of magic outside of their educational establishment' letters from the lovely Ministry. After they had obtained their letters, they were given grimaces from Filch and were sent off to the station.
Harry, Atlas, Lucy, Daphne, Ana, Draco and Theodore sat in a compartment together and did their best to pass their time as the train sped by the patchwork countryside. As picturesque the view from the compartment window was, Harry couldn't help wonder why magic couldn't perhaps speed up the journey or make it unneeded. He wrote 'research apparition' in his mental notebook. However oblivious he may have seemed to the others, Harry took note of every occurrence in the compartment. From Ana, Draco and Theo's game of 'who can throw a Bertie Bott in the air and catch it in their mouth the first time' to the way Atlas was chewing on the drawstring of his brand new hoodie-cloak from Dorothy Dippet, the wizarding fashion designer who spent an apparently revolutionary week in muggle London researching the latest in muggle fashion. He had trained himself to analyse as all this, as the smallest difference in people's behaviour could indicate a big change.
As the train pulled into King's Cross, they stood and made their way to the corridor. They burst onto the platform and stood by a column to wait for their parents slash guardians. They watched with muted amusement as the excitable first years ran up to their parents and began gushing about everything under the sun. The platform seemed busier than ever, with parents and children to-ing and fro-ing everywhere. The bright colours of the wizarding clothes clashed horribly and Harry wondered how people had gone this long without having their eyesight damaged by the fuchsia and chartreuse combination popular among wizards.
"Atlas! Drakey! Come on darling, they're over here," the familiar voice of the Malfoy matriarch floated towards them
"Mum!" Atlas tugged at Draco's sleeve
"Boys! Hello Daphne, Ana and Lucy!" Narcissa hugged them and paused while her husband caught up with her
"Alright kiddos?" Lucius asked cheerfully
"Dad, don't say kiddos, makes you sound like a kiddy fiddler," Atlas replied
"A what?"
"A paedophile," Draco clarified
"Right, I'll bear that in mind," Lucius laughed
"Boys, stop messing with your father," Narcissa admonished, though she was laughing
"Now, are you ok to get back home, Harry?" Lucius regained his composure
"Yes sir, I mean, Lucius," though Harry considered Hogwarts to be more of a home than his biological family's manor
"Good. Girls, I was informed via 'mobil tellypon' that your parents are waiting for you in a café in the station, so if you could find your siblings and go and meet them then your parents would probably be grateful," he picked up their suitcases and tossed them onto a trolley, "Narcissa and I would be glad to accompany you,"
"Bye Harry! Make sure to write to me and the others!" Daphne called before following the Malfoys into the crowd
"There is always a room for you at our house if you need it, remember that," Atlas hugged Harry and sprinted after his parents, jostling through the hordes of pupils and parents.
Harry rocked backwards and forwards on his heels and sat down on his trunk, stroking Hedwig through the door of her cage. The Potters always liked to make an entrance and Harry predicted that as it was Oliver's first year, they would put a lot of effort into it. He was proved right when the entire platform was suddenly filled with a golden fog. The fog disappeared and right in the middle of the platform stood James and Lily Potter, smiling for the reporters and photographers that had shown up. Oliver stepped off of the train, flanked by Ron and a Gryffindor boy called Seamus Finnegan, and headed towards his parents. The family posed for pictures before taking questions from the journalists.
Harry pushed through the excited wizards and witches that were armed with cameras and quills. He stepped in front of the perfect family, "As heart-warming as this is, I would really like to get home," he said before summoning the family's floo pass from James' pocket and striding towards the gateway to the muggle station. Harry had a premonition that he would live to regret this but it was good to let out some of the pent up anger towards the Potters. James Potter was more than a bit angry when he finally arrived back home at the Manor after having to negotiate with the man on duty at the floo station near Kings Cross. Harry had been good at predicting things that day, first the Potter's extravagant arrival now his father's anger, maybe he should give up his wizarding aspirations and become a muggle soothsayer, conning people out of their money with his mysterious powers. Maybe not.
Back to the matter in hand. James was purple with fury, his son had really done it this time. He really had the nerve to embarrass the family in public like that? He'd pay. After making sure that Lily and Oliver were occupied with a celebratory meal in the pavilion, prepared by Flipsy and Dasher as Lily was becoming more accustomed to house elves doing work, he went to find Harry. Harry was sat at the kitchen table browsing the Daily Prophet for any outlandish 'news' of interest, his bronze and blue tie discarded on the table and his robe hanging on the back of his chair, when James entered the room. He grabbed the collar of Harry's shirt and hauled him out of his chair, pushing the youth up against the wall.
"Now, now, father, is this really the way to treat your dear son?" Harry asked innocently
"Shut up!" James struck Harry's cheek with the palm of his hand
"I think this constitutes domestic abuse or at least the unprovoked harassment of a minor,"
"Don't get smart with me young man," James dealt a blow to his stomach, causing him to double over. James held Harry's head up and punched his face several times, "If you embarrass us like that again, you'll get much worse. Oliver may be more talented than you but there is no need to make an exhibit of yourself or act in the arrogant manner you seem so fond of" James kneed him in the unmentionables and slapped his face again
"If that's all, I'd like to get on with some summer homework," Harry managed to say whilst wiping the blood from his nose off of his face with the back of his hand and wincing from the pain in his lower region. James sighed, the boy was intolerable. James let go of the boy's collar and inspected his own knuckles, realising that they were badly bruised and resolving to tell Lily that his eldest son had stamped on his hand in a fit of rage. Harry picked up his copy of the Prophet from the table, slipped his tie into his pocket, pulling his robe on, smiled at James, glanced at his battered reflection in the mirror in the hall and retreated upstairs to his room.
It was going to be a fun summer.
A/N thanks for reading! Reviews are welcome, they keep me typing. A quick note: In no way do I condone James' behaviour and if you are suffering from any kind of abuse, I implore you to speak to a helpline or the police. I'd also like to show you the typo that resulted from me staying up way too late to write this:
"Now, now, father, is this really the way to try to eat your dear son?" Harry asked innocently (this made me laugh a bit too much, maybe I should sleep more and stop listening to radio 4 comedy so late at night)
I've also set up a tumblr page for character pics (I'll leave a link in my bio)
