Harry Dursley and the Philosopher's Conundrum 21
"Fodio!" The wooden mannequin's chest splintered, as small needle-like holes appeared. "Ico!" The needle-wide holes splintered even more, as if something had just once more pierced through them, but the amount of saw dust that escaped the small hole was far bigger.
"What is the difference then?" The voice asked, belonging to the Bloody Baron who was hovering behind Harry.
"They both mean Pierce, coming from the Latin tongue…but one has the subtle meaning of 'stab' and the other has it of 'wound'. So one stops after hitting, and the other instead makes sure the target bleeds before stopping." Harry replied quickly, setting his glasses back on his face as the mannequin repaired itself. The room of requirement was currently filled with mannequins, all of which appeared to have suffered somehow from some type of mortal wound of sorts. Some of those were still charred actually, and a few spontaneously combusted after Harry's last words.
"Good." The Bloody Baron remarked. "Now, why do people no longer learn these spells?"
"Because they're intended for war: the public or private usage of one of such spells on any wizard is to be met with the immediate departure to Azkaban. They are not Unforgivables, but they…they're made to kill."
"Precisely. Teaching kids flashy things like Expelliarmus or that bratty curse of Mucus ad Nauseam is worthless on a battlefield, true magic is used to do wonderful or horrendous things...not to flash colored lights at one another." The Baron pointed at his ghostly chest, "Mors in magicae et magia in morte…Death in magic and magic in death. There is no battle won by removing an enemy's wand: only by removing an enemy's heart does the enemy stop moving…or the head, if we're talking about Inferi."
"Isn't that a bit excessive?" Harry asked, as the Bloody Baron merely rolled its ghostly eyes.
"Inferi are created by conjuring the spirit of the deceased and wrapping them in the flesh of the dead, and they are usually sent off to incite fear in the hearts of the enemies. Do you really believe that in thousands upon thousands of years, spells didn't evolve? Alas with evolution came complacence…I still remember when at Hogwarts we were taught how to best blast a war scorpion, instead of…how to transfigure a chalice into a crow and vice-versa." The tone of disdain in the ghost was evident, as he shook his head in disgust.
"But…I mean…there aren't books about it in the library!"
"The restricted section contains little," Henry slowly admitted, "Because many books were purged following Grindelwald's war. I cried tears of anger and rage at the sight of the papers combusting and being destroyed, many penned by my very hand…and never as much as that day did I bless the name of Salazar Slytherin, for his cunningness saved the few I gifted you."
"I'm sorry." Harry whispered back, "Madam Pince would have had a heart attack at seeing that." He commented with a light grim smile.
"Her mother did have a heart attack actually." Henry replied with a quick nod. "She passed on clutching a book, must have run in the family I suppose."
Harry stood quiet for a moment, clutching his wand before shaking his head slowly. He took a deep breath as he once more left his wand in its holster by his wrist, and with that, the wooden stick disappeared from sight within the invisible robe.
"How is being a ward of the ministry?" Harry asked slowly, "I mean…I just don't want to think about it, but…it's what I'm going to end up as. I'll be out and about, in a cranky orphanage with cranky people and…"
"You could always try and talk with your parents, young Harry." The Bloody Baron remarked, "I know something happened within Dumbledore's office that concerned them however…You would do better to remember that you are undercover."
"Undercover huh?" Harry muttered. "I…I just wanted to learn magic. You know, the flying, the sawing in half a guy and sticking him back together, the abracadabra that made people look in awe…and here I am, learning how to make a piece of wood spontaneously combust after tot minutes, or how to best bleed out someone."
"The world is a dark place, Harry." The Bloody Baron nodded, "Some things just happen, there is no fate or destiny to tie us…except prophecies, which I find appalling."
"App-what?"
"Appalling." Henry remarked, "Dreadful and shocking."
"Like Helena when you make her angry?" Harry commented with maybe a bit of cheek in it. The Bloody Baron blinked once, before displaying a light grin.
"Oh my, you are absolutely right. That's what led me to her in the first place actually, and she was smart and quick witted too…stole my heart that witch did." The ghost then mumbled something Harry didn't catch, shook his ghostly head once, and then gestured towards the other side of the room, where a big map stood hovering.
"Now, let us resume the magical geography lesson." The Bloody Baron commented, moving closer to the map with Harry in tow. "Where did magic originate from?"
"Sanskrit tongue...no, the Neanderthals." Harry pointed out quickly.
"Indeed. Once they developed magic, magic changed them." The Bloody Baron added, "from there, they moved away disappearing from the other 'humans' and evolved, bringing into the game…"
"Atlantis?" Harry hazarded, earning a quick nod from the ghostly teacher.
"Exactly…and Atlantis was known to hold the most powerful magic and powers, to be the cradle of artifacts and magical trinkets…many things were created, many more were brought into the fold from elsewhere…and then the stupid idea of making everyone their equal came." The Slytherin's ghost spat that out in disgust, as it hovered close to Harry.
"You cannot make a pig a butterfly, well, of course you can with transfiguration, but the effects do not last! They disappear after a moment…and because of that, some things are best left to the imagination…like turning all muggles into wizards, for example."
"The Hubris of Atlantis is the starting point of wizardry in the world, Harry." The ghost spoke clearly, "From there came the destruction of the brightest of cities, but also the release of magic within the other peoples…even those who should have held no merit in having any of the gift's powers! The Atlantis people believed in equality, in all being the same and with the same benefits…they were idiots, and magic made them pay the price for it!" It was hotly that the Ghost spoke, its hands flailing around as it spoke. "That did however bring magic to the world…so maybe they weren't so wrong to begin with, were they?" The Baron spoke with a grin, one that Harry had come to interpret with the usual 'now comes another brain-rape question'.
"So tell me, were they wrong, in destroying themselves, their magic, their very souls, their city…all for the benefit of the rest of the world? Were they children asked if they wanted to die and lose their souls? No! Was anyone warned of what their leaders wanted to do? No!" The Baron shook his head, "Yet they did it never the less…absolute good is no better than absolute evil!"
"B…"
"But there is no proof that what I'm saying is the truth, is there?" The Bloody Baron remarked drily, "Just as there is no proof of truth or lie without facts behind them…but Atlantis is nothing more than a legend now, isn't it? And yet…aren't wizards myths too? Aren't dragons? So are ghosts, right? You see…that got me thinking." The Baron commented, "If muggles can believe in magic, even with the statute of secrecy, then why can't we wizards believe in Atlantis? Why can't we believe in the box of Pandora? Why can't we believe in everything else that we claim doesn't exist? The answer…is fear." The ghost shook his head, before pointing with its fingers to Moscow, and then tracing a line that went to Berlin, then Paris, then Rome and finally landing on Athens. "Fear is such a powerful took, young Raven…you have no idea what fear can really do…you have no idea." The eyes bore into the kid's scared face, and with a slight wicked smile the Bloody Baron quietly added.
"Remember young Raven: there is nothing that people fear the most, than that which they believe lays hiding in the darkness…this lesson is over at the moment." The ghost's next words cracked through the tension that had built up in the room, as Harry took a deep breath that warmed him up considerably.
"We will see each other next week. Now it is time for your public training to get…those kiddies spell under wraps. I expect full marks on your examinations, young Raven." The Baron commented, "May Salazar's cunningness guide you well."
With a quick nod, Harry left the room of requirements. Once the door closed behind him, he carefully made his way back towards the common room, hoping against all dire chances that nobody would actually try anything. Of course, he was wrong. Apparently Lillian Potter had decided to intercept him while he was walking alone towards the Ravenclaw tower.
"Harry!" The girl exclaimed, stopping him by firmly standing on his path to the stairs. "Listen…I'm sorry about Ron, but…"
"Cut this off, Potter." Harry hissed, the final word coming out as a strangled angry growl, "Sorry doesn't cut it. I want nothing to do with you or any of your friends, so move."
"Hey! That's unfair…I didn't think he'd really curse you, or Hermione would point her wand at you, bu…"
"You think I care about whatever excuses you can come up with, Potter?" Harry remarked drily, taking a strange sort of twisted pleasure at using that surname by holding contempt and anger in the voice. "You held me at wand point together with them, I'm sure. I do not care what your blatant idiocy told you was right, I only care to be left in peace. Now move before I remove you."
"What are you going to do? Hex me? Use that spell you used on the troll? I asked about it: it's a dark spell and…"
Harry chuckled, shaking his head slowly. "You ignorant child." He muttered, "You who know nothing and speak but of hearsay…stay on the stairs, I'll take the lift."
He turned around, ready to leave, when Lillian's exclamation stopped him where he stood.
"Why are you acting like this?" She asked slowly. "This isn't you. You…"
"People change, Lillian." Harry remarked, "But why don't you ask your proud mother if, by happenchance, she knows what her sister did?" The boy added without turning around. "And don't think you know me only because we exchanged letters. You know nothing."
Then, Harry began to walk. He still had an extra hour after curfew, so he'd just have to wait for that time period before heading back to his dorm.
"I told you it has to be him!" The voice snapped behind him as he headed towards the library. "I'm sure he's planning on taking it with him…" He turned around quickly, but raised an eyebrow in surprise. There was no-one there…strange, he could have sworn there was at the very least Ron Weasley behind him.
Harry started walking once more, and then abruptly stopped. He heard the muffled steps come to a halt a second later, and this time he whipped his wand out as he turned to stare angrily.
"Come out right now." He ordered.
Nobody of course moved.
"Clearly you haven't heard me, Weasley." Harry muttered, "But I swear, you may think it's funny to hide, but remember I always hold my word. So, what is it your brainless brain accuses me of? Let me guess, maybe that I want to steal the Philosopher's stone?"
"See!? Now you'll be coming…" As Ron emerged from an apparently invisible…no, invisibility cloak, holding his wand in his hand, Harry's own shot downwards faster.
"Yeah, drop the…" Of course, Ron had to misinterpret the gesture.
"Cuspis Terrae." A blunt rock rose from the pavement of Hogwarts so fast that the red haired boy lost his footing, falling backwards with a sharp thud. In a moment, Harry was above the boy, his right foot holding onto the boy's neck to keep him down.
"You know, Ronald? I am an extremely patient person. I live by the philosophy of letting people go by as long as they leave me alone…I swear, do this again and I will learn the Obliviate spell and I will use it on you until you remain as a wrecked babbling foul." Harry grabbed the boy by the sweater, pulling him upwards so that his eyes could look straight in his. "Did I make myself clear?"
"Y…Yes." The boy nodded quickly, as Harry grunted and left him on the ground.
"Good Weasel. Maybe we can make a house pet out of you." Spatting that out in disgust, the Ravenclaw finally managed to reach his intended destination of the library, where he managed to sit down with little to no effort or noise. He stood in the furthest away corner, and with a huff, the book sanctioned by the Ministry on 'Non-lethal spells for dueling' was opened at page ten.
The beauty of the Expelliarmus was that it was safe, easy to use, and only aimed at the wand. It also was suggested as the most practiced spell for dueling, because it brought an end to any duel with little to no problems.
It infringed against shields and because of that was easy to counter. As Harry took a deep sigh, his mind finally calming down after the affront of two out of three of the 'Gryffindor's pains', he settled into a comfortable lull. Setting his back against the chair, he flipped through another page gently, his eyes slowly moving to the rest of the people around. Many were cracking up on the books, readying themselves for the examinations that were to come.
A few were breaking down in sobs and tears for the upcoming Owls and Newts…or how they'd end up doing, but no Ravenclaw who had to do one of the two exams was in the library except him.
The Ravenclaws were probably currently doing their famous crack-up session in which they barraged whoever walked with questions. For every question answered wrongly, a spell of the program tested would be flung and countered, hopefully, by another student. Stray spells were flying all around at that time by then, and yet Harry would have preferred to brave the common room then to stay there.
His roommates were apparently a tightly knitted trio who stood by themselves with other kids, and while they weren't necessarily cold to him, it wasn't as if he had befriended any of them. Neville hadn't contacted him since the Christmas gift, and if that was by any chance due to him still being a bit 'beneath the radar' or the boy being a natural coward, Harry didn't know.
Being a Hufflepuff and being unable to cope with stress probably broke him down a bit before this first years 'exams'. Exams…the ghosts knew what it would be, and of course the portraits didn't hide their pleasure at helping Harry know what would end up being required of him.
Dancing a pineapple was something he could now do with his eyes closed.
If only he could do his exams earlier…
He'd end up sooner into the orphanage, wouldn't he?
There wouldn't be any helpful ghosts with him. There wouldn't be any magic. There wouldn't be any wizards. There wouldn't be house elves to feed him. There wouldn't be portraits to speak to. There wasn't going to be anything for him to do except…
"Harry." His hands held the borders of the book a bit more tightly. What did the bushy haired girl want now? Was this like the ghosts of Christmas? Did he have to suffer the brats of Gryffindor? One side of him was pointing out how he was eleven years old too, and that he shouldn't call them brats because he was one to begin with. The other side of him, the rational one, was pointing out how he wasn't a brat because he had killed a troll. Done the first blood, he was an adult. At least for the Bloody Baron's old rules that came from the Middle Ages.
"Look. I'm sorry we keep being on the wrong wavelength, and I wanted to apologize for having…" Hermione's words died out as she was probably realizing Harry wouldn't let the book drop from his face.
On his side, the boy was trying to find a way out of there that didn't involve having to spat out more insults than needed. Was it that difficult? He had chosen who to associate with; the fact that these people kept on harassing him and coming at him time after time was starting to get on his nerves.
"Are you listening to me?" Harry took a deep breath, before slowly letting his book fall down to stare coldly at the girl in question.
"So…please, could you at least accept my apology?" Harry simply held his gaze on the girl that began to fidget with the strap of her school bag, moving her fingers on the surface and drumming alongside it.
"What do you want?" The boy asked, deciding to cut the chase.
"Can you recall the other houses, please?" Hermione whispered, "I…I know you did something, I mean it. You're friends with Malfoy of all people and…"
"What are you implying with that?" Harry hissed, raising an eyebrow. "What exactly are you trying to tell me? 'Recall the other houses' doesn't help me understand."
"Gryffindor was the house where people brave of heart could go and be among peers. Now it's the house of bullies and arrogant rule breakers. Lillian is planning to stop playing Quidditch because of what the other houses are whispering behind her back, and the entire house is alone, and taking it out on her. I know you did something. I want you to stop it." Hermione murmured. "Please."
"Why would the house of the brave of heart take it out on the Girl-Who-Lived?" Harry replied, his brows furrowing.
The girl apparently didn't want to explain the reason, but in the end, the dam broke.
"It was innocent at first: the Slytherin's first years were making a mess about her being a first year and not entitled to play. The other houses didn't care about it, and neither did us…we just thought they were being jealous…but then I saw you heading towards the Slytherin one day, and the next moment you walked out with them. From that day, I checked and double checked to make sure, they acted nice. Hufflepuff-nice. I didn't think you had anything to do at the time…but the more time passed, the more the Slytherin became known just as 'other students' not as 'those Slytherin brats'. I thought Malfoy was the head of it all, but then…then I saw you helping him after Ron had cursed him, and once more I realized that what Malfoy was doing couldn't have come from his brain…but I still didn't doubt you. You were Lillian's cousin after all: you wouldn't so deviously demolish her like that without reason, would you? And then…then Ron came speaking one day of Malfoy sneering at him about the power of Propaganda…and that was a distinctive Muggle-term. I knew it had to be you. It all made sense then. Slytherins weren't slandering us: they were simply relating the events in a different light. Fred and George weren't harmless pranksters, but arrogant troublemakers. Lillian wasn't a merited exception, but a rule breaking fame hound that had the backing of the teachers…You gave them the ideas, and the Slytherin followed you. You are the King …right?"
As Hermione rambled on, Harry's face paled. Had he really done all that?
He…he had just talked to Draco, under the influence of the Bloody Baron.
How could only that little thing…do all this? This was a boulder falling down and growing as it reached the end.
"The more Lillian won, the more the other houses understood. The first years became vicious, and when the exam times came around, Gryffindor was alone…and of course they gave the fault to her." Harry was trying to appear uninterested, but there was something off about it. He was the King?
Did Draco go around and use that as his nickname? Or maybe that was how they referred to him for the purpose of…
The plan is in motion, King.
Merry Christmas, King.
He was such an idiot! His eyes bulged in shock as his lips trembled slightly. It wasn't someone who had been writing to him with the nick of 'King', it was his nickname that stood in the address.
He was King.
He…He had to ask Draco just where the hell did that particular 'Codename' come out from. It was kind of wicked on one side, but on the other it just wasn't something he could use like that.
"So please, I'm sorry…I'm sure Lillian came to apologize to you too even if it wasn't her plan..." Oh yes she did, on the stairs, and he had just angrily retorted to the girl and walked away. "Please. I was the one angry at you, I was the one who took out the wand first…and Ron got kicked out of Transfiguration as it is. Can't you just…if not me, at least Lillian? She was in tears when she came back. Please. Please. Please. She needs friends, and you're the popular one and…"
Harry James no-longer-Dursley was the popular one?
Harry was looking at Hermione as if she had just sprouted a second, no, a third or even fifth head. He was the popular one? He barely talked to people. Draco was the one with whom he had spoken the most and he, suddenly, was the most popular one?
He was the one whose real parents had left him, abandoned him, and suddenly…he was the popular one? He? He who was now a ward of the ministry?
"First you threaten me…then you come and beg me for mercy?" Harry hissed, clenching his fists. "You hope for a rewind button? You seek a restart? A blank slate? Well…grow up. Welcome to the real world. There is no restart."
Hermione bit her lip, closing her eyes for a moment before nodding and facing him again.
"We think someone wants to steal the philosopher's stone from the third corridor…we tried asking for help from the professors, but…"
"Now you even want my help?" Harry remarked curtly. "Just how much…"
"Wait. Please…at least listen…then I won't disturb you any longer, I swear." The boy looked at her one last time, and then nodded slowly.
"We think Voldemort's coming back. We think he's working with Snape…the unicorns dying were…"
"War unicorns now, Godric? Are you an utter foul!?"
"A clear sign of someone on the verge of death still hanging on…we think Voldemort didn't die that night, but was grievously wounded, and now with the philosopher's stone at Hogwarts, we believe Snape is actively working on bringing the dark lord back to its full force…Dumbledore is going to leave Hogwarts the four of June, which is at least a week away, and…"
"No." Harry replied shaking his head. "I have better things to do."
"What the hell can be better than saving the school from Voldemort's return?" Hermione whispered back quickly.
"Maybe the fact that you're seeing the shadows of kittens for the dragons…" Harry remarked, not even sure it was a proper figure of speech, "And also, some people spend their time better by studying or working on spells…not staying with people who positively hate their guts and who might just stand him up again…isn't that right?"
Hermione's downcast head was all that Harry needed to know. He knew the girl didn't really have any way to convince him to go, and as such, he actually didn't have to...and he wouldn't have, not even if they had suggested him to go and become rich.
He had been burned enough by trusting others. He had been stood up enough times, and lied to far more. He wasn't going to go on the path of a Nazi Hitler, but he certainly refused to become a Gandhi.
The Headmaster had toyed with his head. The world had toyed with his feelings and himself, and as Hermione Granger left the library downcast, he knew, he just knew, that by choosing this outcome he had begun to walk upon a path. A path that he had no idea where it would lead him, but that, no matter where…would still be a path, his own.
And so, the exams went by without a hitch, and nothing of importance happened, nothing that he knew of, of course.
It was as Harry stood at the parting feast made by Hogwarts, sitting among the other Ravenclaws, that the points would have brought the lead to Slytherin one more year. The Slytherins were actually looking at him with bright smiles, and that was something he was perplexed about. Maybe he had misinterpreted Dumbledore…maybe he really wasn't that much keen on letting Gryffindor win.
"As we reach the end of the school year," the Headmaster spoke standing up, "We bid goodbye to those who graduate." A deafening roar from the Ravenclaw's Newt examined came up, with people crying tears of joy, "And we welcome these warm months of holiday. However, some things must be taken into consideration..." And with that, the cheers died down to a bare minimum.
"It has come to my attention that an object protected by the school was at risk of being stolen. For the great courage demonstrated in safeguarding it, I hereby award Miss. Granger, Mr. Weasley and Miss. Potter seventy-five points each."
The points of the house had stood at five-hundred thirty for Hufflepuff, five hundred-seventy for Gryffindor, Five hundred- ninety for Ravenclaw and Six-hundred sixty for Slytherin…with the addition of two hundred twenty-five points…Gryffindor went straight out on top at Seven-Hundred ninety five.
"I think a change of colors should…"
And chaos, pure unbridled chaos, erupted.
Had it been a different Slytherin, one still snubbing the other houses, one still busy hating the rest of the world, then nothing like what happened in the hall that day would have ever happened. In the span of five minutes, Gryffindors went from happiness to outright dread, because the Hufflepuffs were the first to scream. Nothing makes a Hufflepuff angry as cheating. The Ravenclaws joined next, and soon the Slytherin realized that for once…someone was backing them up.
"Silence!" Albus' yell, powered by his magic, brought the entirety of the hall to silence. "What is the meaning of this? Surely you should…"
"Shut your trap you old man!" A Hufflepuff exclaimed, making Madame Sprout pale. "This is cheating! The King is right: you're not impartial!"
"Yeah!" A Ravenclaw piped in. "What did they do to get all those points, huh!? Seventy-five points each to safeguard something? What the f…"
"Language!" Filius exclaimed hurriedly, but soon the silence the Headmaster's yell had brought lasted little to nothing and evaporated, to leave chaos once more unbridled and ready for the fight of its life.
"I will not have…"
"That's cheating."
"Slytherin deserves it for once!"
"God help me if you let the reds win!"
"Let them have the cup!" Another voice yelled, belonging to an older Ravenclaw. One that Harry had seen hanging around Basileus and the other kids, and that yell…that suddenly silenced the rest of the hall. Harry's eyes travelled to meet those of Draco, who was actually looking at him in wait…he nodded.
He didn't know why he nodded, only that…he could trust the Ravenclaws to be the most devious.
"Mr. Hilliard, right? I must admit I am happy to see maturity in the house of Ravenclaw at least." Dumbledore remarked with a light smile.
"Actually, Headmaster, the reason I wish for Gryffindor to hold the cup is for them to keep it, and display it as the symbol that in life it does not matter hard work, loyalty or being smart: only having the girl-who-lived on your side and that corruption always works. So for the lesson of real life to impart upon the others, indeed! Let the symbol of hatred and division be granted to the bullies, to the worthless scum that believes itself the greatest! Let them have the cup! The cup of hatred and anger! The cup of division and selfishness! The cup to the scum! The cup to the scum!"
"The cup to the scum!"
"The cup to the scum!"
"The cup to the scum!"
And like that, Harry understood.
The burned ground tactic was used by the Russians during many of its wars. It was a simple thing actually: destroy your fields so the enemy can't profit on them. In this case…the cup, the symbol to which they had battled for points, was now no longer a symbol of worthiness…but one of hate and division.
It was the perfect turn around. Get the object one works hard for and make it worthless in the eyes of everyone. In doing so, Harry realized that he hadn't been the only one to…
His head whipped quickly to where Basileus was seated, both of his hands intertwined and his eyes looking at him half-narrowed. There was a small smile on the red haired boy's face, soon followed by a light wink. The boy had been doing a pre-written speech. He had done so because Basileus had prepared it, but the reason why…why did the teen actually help him?
The Gryffindor table was now filled with downcast persons. The few who yelled back were silenced by the deafening roars coming from the other three Houses, and in the end, the last day of school at Hogwarts ended with the festering hatred for the house of the brave.
As Harry stood up, together with the rest of the Ravenclaws, Draco literally charged straight for him.
"You were right…and this? This was genius, pure Slytherin."
"Yeah pal." Flint patted him on the shoulder, "Wonderful."
"We showed them all." Vincent commented.
"Long live the…" And then the rest of the Slytherins bolted to shut Gregory up.
"Shhh…"
"Ehm…could someone explain to me the…codename?" Harry whispered, as he began to walk towards the Ravenclaw tower, followed by the rest of the Slytherin.
"We thought that if Great Britain had a Dark Lord, and it failed against the Potter brat," Draco began, "Then all we needed was someone bigger. And bigger than a lord there's a King, isn't it?"
"You gave the soundest plan, Dursley." Flint commented, "And since none of us Slytherin trusted one another with the position, we remembered your words: so we chose you to lead us, and we followed your lines. Worked like a charm!" Snapping his fingers, the Slytherin's chaser chuckled. "No matter the color, you're a true Slytherin to us."
"Owl me over the summer." Draco exclaimed, as he and the rest of the Slytherin went one way while he had to head upwards. "I'm sure we can come up with something else to do next year!"
And then, Harry was left alone to climb the Ravenclaw tower. The train would depart in a couple of hours, and by then he'd be…where would he be actually?
It felt like being covered in wool. The waiting, the moving, the walking over to carriages, the heading over to the platform, then the ride back in silence in his carriage…his ears were buzzing with thoughts as his heart clenched in fear. Someone would probably be looking for him at the train station. It had to be the case.
As he grabbed his stuff and descended from the station, he saw students being reunited with their families. He saw people hugging one another and tears of joy. He saw all this, and he looked at Machiavelli who looked back at him.
With a soft hoot, completely submerged by the noise of the passerby at the station, Machiavelli flapped his wings once from within the cage, before turning its head towards the exit. A man dressed with a black robe and wearing a leather jacket stood there, holding a sign with the name Harry Dursley on it.
It was with a heavy silence that Harry headed off towards his destiny.
Well. In his mind at least, because the rest of the station had no trouble making noise, there was silence.
*Lilly Potter*
She had been utterly shocked by the sight of the house cup, the prized cup that in her student years she would have killed to possess, become nothing more than a hateful sign of division and actually something to be glad not to have. She had kept her mouth half-opened in sheer surprise at the speech of the older Ravenclaw, one of the students in the final year of school and that had thus nothing to lose. Yet she had heard the rumors since the beginning of the year done against her Lillian and Gryffindor in general.
She had told her daughter not to worry, that everything was completely normal. It was just jealousy, it would pass. She was a natural at Quidditch and even Minerva had gone to great lengths to make it possible for her to play. Actually the rules only said a first year couldn't possess a broom…there was nothing against a teacher or a parent 'loaning' one for an extended period of time.
James had been so proud to see his little princess fly in the air at the first matches.
She had been scared senseless, but only because she knew of at least fifty-nine ways for someone to break a bone while playing Quidditch, and of course she had clearly not hyperventilated when her daughter had launched herself to eat the snitch. Clearly.
Dumbledore's last point giving, however, had made her uneasy from the very beginning. Why antagonize even more the situation? The other houses had even cheered on Slytherin with the cup. Yet the Headmaster had given it to Gryffindor.
She didn't like what had happened afterwards, but then, when she had seen the son of Petunia being congratulated by some Slytherins…
Of course the boy was just a kid, eleven years old…it had to have been Tuney planting ideas in his head that since his aunt was a horrible freak than her daughter was one too. She didn't fault the boy. Still, having her girl on the verge of tears back at home, and later on crying on her bed, didn't make it simple for her to merely forgive the boy.
She knew her sister wouldn't answer her by owl of course…There was just one thing left to do. With James remaining home, and trying to console their daughter, she walked briskly outside of the Potter Manor's wards and then apparated at Privet Drive 4.
She was wearing muggle clothes, at least hoping her sister wouldn't outright freak out at seeing her with a shirt, a sweater and a pair of jeans.
Walking slowly towards the door, she began to mentally prepare her speech.
'Listen Tuney, keep the hate between us alright? Don't make your son spread malicious lies about my daughter! I know they were happily owling each other this summer, so don't try and…'
Lily knocked on the door, and then she waited.
She knocked once more, but no-one came. It was lunch time and her sister was bound to be at home…she had seen at the station Harry being taken away by a wizard from the ministry, probably to instruct the boy about the risks of underage magic in front of muggles. Something that was done every now and then by those wizards who didn't have anyone magical to explain it to them in the family.
Which was a bit strange: she was part of the family, wasn't she?
Even Lillian was.
She knocked harder.
Things didn't add up.
Her wand was in her hand and Alohomora was at her lips when the door finally opened.
"Hello, how may I help you?" An old woman spoke to her. She had bright white hair and a pair of deep cerulean eyes.
"I'm…Potter, Lily Potter…is my sister Petunia here?" The woman asked, slightly nervous.
"The Dursley moved out in mid-November." The old woman replied with a smile, "They sold the house and went to America." Lily breathed in relief; of course there would be a ministry's wizard at the station then! The portkey needed to transfer one from England to America would need to be issued.
"I'm sorry I disturbed you Madam…did they leave any number I could contact them with?"
"I'm afraid not…" The elderly lady seemed apologetic, and with a small nod of understanding, Lily Potter walked back and once out of sight apparated away.
She'd end up having to flu-call Britain's consulate in America and then get to find out where the Dursleys had bought a house…and maybe they could make it a summer adventure: go and find Tuney and make her stop having Harry bullying their daughter.
James would be all for it, especially if pranks were to be involved.
*Somewhere*
"And one-two-three go!" A light soft Jazz music began to swing around the badly lit club. People whispered to one another, wearing tightly fit tailored suits and some smoking cigarettes or rolling up tobacco for their pipes. A small wisp of smoke moved out of the way of Severus' eyes, as the wizard found himself sitting in a private booth in a corner.
"Why are we here now?" The man asked, barely containing his anxiety.
"Calm down…you're among friends." The Voice replied.
"I know that, but this…this nation isn't exactly a nice place for those like me to stay in…"
"Hush and say no more. You're with me tonight."
"Voldemort's plan is brewing up…Albus has already sent his men at the orphanage."
"I know that, Severus. I know that." The Voice remarked.
"When are we going to act then?" The potion's master asked.
The voice hummed a bit with the same tone as the music, before finally whispering.
"When the second year ends of course…if all goes well, the third year will be spent in Durmstrang, and if all goes badly…"
"We'll be dead."
"Death is but a door, Severus." The voice remarked drily.
"Wasn't it Time is but a door?"
"That was Rasputin. I'm smarter than a Ravenclaw old coot."
"If you say so…"
And humming, the owner of the voice went over to the ballroom to dance.
Severus gurgled back in his throat the utterly horrendous dancing style of his colleague in plot, and drowned his sorrows.
The School year was done, what remained now was the rest of the summer.
Author's notes
Now! I need to know if you'd rather I'd complete the stories by 'book' or if you prefer that I change the title of this story outright and hold it like that for all seven 'books' of the HP thing.
That the case you'd have to look at the headline of each chapter to know when a new 'book' start, but one wouldn't need to subscribe to more than one.
I'm just putting it here (because I've got more chapters to go yet) to get opinions.
That said!
Q&A to avoid getting gunned down by angry people:
The only thing I can actually answer without giving away plot-points at the present is that no, Quirrell clearly didn't steal the stone, and the three 'heroes' didn't actually end up protecting it. They 'guarded' the mirror of desire (Miss Potter did) but no Quirrell or other Voldemort Spy came to it.
Ehh…the mystery thickens!