Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit.
Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story.
Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.
Authors Note 1:
I know I said this wasn't going up for another week due to my travels, but remember when I joked about posting this if they completely overhauled their WIFI in the last year? Well, they have, so here we are!
For information on the start of year 2, please see the Authors Endnote.
Authors Note 2:
The final instalment of year 1! I hope you guys enjoy! FYI the AN at the end will likely be long, but I encourage you to read it.
Recommendations:
Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man.
Harry Potter and The Boy Who Lived by The Santi.
Growing Up Black by ElvindorkNigellus.
The Hero and The Veela by Jack Potter.
Stepping Back, and Honour Thy Blood by TheBlack'sResurgence.
The Mind Arts by Wu Gang.
A Cadmean Victory by Darkness Enthroned.
"Speech."
'Internal Dialogue.'
Parseltongue.
Memories/In Story Text.
Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal
By ACI100.
Year 1: The Saviour's Return.
Chapter 15: Conclusions and Confrontations.
June 4th 1992.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The Catacombs.
11:28 PM.
Harry paused for only a moment as he stepped through the fire, knowing that he had one, and only one chance at coming out of this alive, and that it was resting in the pocket of his robes. Taking off his father's cloak and draping it over top of himself, he set his jaw and marched forward, knowing that this very well may be his last and only chance at revenge.
He did not hesitate any longer. As he stepped through the purple fire into a final, low ceilinged room, Harry saw him, the stuttering wonder himself, with Neville tied precariously at his feet. There was another as well, though Harry could not make out their identity as they had their back to him and were standing behind Voldemort, seeming to be inspecting something that Harry could not completely see. As soon as he saw the outline of Voldemort, Harry's wand snapped up, and he quickly fired off the most dangerous spell he knew, taking aim at the chest where he hoped a direct hit would be fatal.
"Deffodio!" The jet of purple light streaked across the room and eyes wide, the figure raised his own wand at the last possible second, conjuring a bright, opaque shield to absorb the spell, though the shield flashed dangerously as it did so. The figure spun, eyes looking straight through Harry but not being able to see him.
"Potter, come out and-"
"Incendio!" The bolt of fire shot straight towards the man but he didn't so much as flinch, sending it instead shooting up into the ceiling with a flick of his wand. "Stupefy, Expelliarmus, Petrificus Totalus!"
None of his spells found their mark, but Harry could see the man becoming visibly frustrated.
"Master, I can not find him, his magic is hidden and I do not have your abilities with wandwork, what do I do?"
Harry paused in his casting for only a moment, long enough to wonder who Voldemort would ever call master before a terrible hiss of a voice answered, one that seemed to be coming from the back of the man's head.
"Use the boy!"
Instantly, the man's wand was on Neville, and its point was growing an eerie green colour. "Stop!" He commanded and Harry froze, knowing all too well from years of dreams what green light meant in the magical world. "One more spell and the Longbottom boy dies, one more bit of resistance and he loses an arm! Now, reveal yourself!"
He knew the game was up. No matter what happened to him, he could not allow Neville to die.
"I want an oath that you won't kill or harm Neville if I do so." He said, stepping to the side after he spoke as to not give away his location. If he was going to die, he would at least do so while assuring that his friend and brother remained safe. From his bindings, Harry could see Neville shaking his head furiously, but he didn't care.
The man sneered, "You are in no place to make demands of me, Potter. Not when your friend is-"
"Give the oath." The same, terrible voice spoke again. It sounded like iron scraping against a chalkboard, but worse.
"Master, do you think it wise to-"
"Now!"
The man flinched, raising his wand in front of him. "I, Quirrenus Quirrell swear on my blood, my magic and my life that I will not harm nor kill Neville Franklin Longbottom if Harry James Potter reveals himself to me and does not resist. So mote it be."
The light pulsed around him and Harry froze.
'The magic wouldn't have recognized his oath if he lied about his name. What the hell, I thought he was Voldemort, I was so-' and then his mind paused, going back to the horrible voice coming from behind him and all of a sudden, it made perfect sense why Voldemort was after the stone. He still needed a body, and the stone would give him one.
'Damnit, I was too cautious, I could have brought a teacher, they could have taken Quirrell!'
"I'm waiting, Potter."
Knowing that the game was well and truly over now, Harry slipped the cloak off of himself, letting it fall to the floor behind him as he turned to face Quirrell, defiance burning in his emerald green eyes that, ever since glasses had not blocked them, had only seemed to grow brighter as the months had passed by.
"Accio invisibility cloak." Intoned Quirrell, but the cloak did not so much as twitch as the man frowned. "Accio Harry Potter's invisibility cloak!" He tried with more gusto but the cloak refused to move and he frowned once more.
"It does not matter," hissed the other voice, "I do not need a cloak to become invisible, it is the stone that matters now."
The man nodded, snapping his fingers and imprisoning Harry in ropes before he could do so much as move. Quirrell gestured and from behind him walked the last figure Harry expected to see.
"Granger!" He gasped, as the girl walked forward.
Quirrell smiled. "Yes, she has been suspicious for some time. It turned out to be quite useful in the end, though she suspected the wrong man."
"Snape." Snarled Harry.
Quirrell smirked. "I see you detest him as much as he does you, though perhaps not quite as much as he did your father. He turned to Hermione and she spoke in a dull, monotone voice.
"The mirror shows no weaknesses, the enchantments would protect it from all but the strongest of magic." Quirrell hissed furiously.
"Master, what do I do? I can not break the mirror without risking the destruction of the stone and it will not give it to me!"
"Potter," hissed the voice, "use Potter."
"Yes!" He said, summoning Harry's wand to him before releasing him of his bindings, "Potter, come here!" Reluctantly, Harry obeyed, stepping in front of Quirrell and looking, to his stunned amazement, into The Mirror of Erised once again.
In the mirror, Harry stood over Voldemort like he had before, but this time, he smiled cheekily down at his foe, taking from his pocket an odd, red stone, before winking at the real Harry and repocketing it and in that moment, Harry felt an odd weight fill his pocket.
'How the hell does that work?'
"What do you see?" Asked Quirrell, and now, Harry knew that he had no way of knowing. Resolutely avoiding the other man's eyes and summoning the image of his old cupboard to his mind, Harry resolutely mentioned the first thing he could think of, the same lie he had given Dumbledore all those months ago.
"I see myself with a family."
Quirrell snarled but Voldemort spoke once more. "Let me speak to him."
"M-m-my lord, you are not strong enough-"
"I have strength enough for this!"
Reluctantly Quirrell turned, dropping as he did so the turban that had adorned him for so long, revealing a horrible face that was straight out of one of the corny horror movies that his oaf of a cousin had enjoyed.
Where the back of Quirrell's head should have been was a milk white face, one with a nose as flat as a snake's and slits for pupils, the eyes glowing an unnatural red colour.
"Harry Potter," hissed Voldemort, smiling almost sadly at him, "do you see what has become of me? Do you see what you have reduced me too?"
"You deserved it!" Hissed Harry, unable to bite back the childish retort.
Voldemort chuckled. "Who is to say that anybody deserves anything? So young, so weak, so naive. The world is not as black and white as you and your hero Dumbledore view it, Harry. The world is a complex place, filled with no light and dark, but intricacies, layers upon layers of them. There is no light and dark, no good and evil, only power, and those too weak to wield it."
Harry had no reply, there was an odd lump in his throat as he tried to take in everything that Voldemort was saying.
The Dark Lord frowned. "You are weak now, but you will not be for long. Such a waste it would be to snuff out such a brilliant wielder of magic, one with the potential to be so much more than his mentor." Voldemort's frown deepened. "I have wasted far too many, spilled far too much magical blood. Your mother for example; she was supremely talented and had the intelligence to match any on my side." He sighed. "Such a waste; she need not have died, it was always you I was after."
Harry's mind blanked. `Why the hell did he want to kill me?'
"Please," Said Voldemort softly, "do not force my hand once more. Your potential outdoes even that of your mother. There has been no one like you since.." he smiled, "well, since me."
"I'm not like you at all!" Harry bit back hotly, but Voldemort merely smiled.
"Aren't you? A half blood orphan born into a dying family with a long magical lineage, raised by Muggles who despised your very existence but in the end, you, much like me before you, overcame the neglect and abuse to become a magical prodigy the likes of which has rarely ever been seen before." Voldemort smiled at the shocked look on Harry's face. "We are not all that different Harry, in many ways, we are much the same."
Harry's jaw set as he glared at Voldemort. "We should not be opposing one another." He continued. "With my power and your potential, we could rule, we could be unopposed. Not even Dumbledore could ever dream of rivaling us." His red eyes were shining now. "I can grant you anything Harry; power, fame, fortune, knowledge, all you have to do is give me that stone in your pocket."
Harry cursed himself. 'Why did I have to look him in the eyes?' "Anything?" He asked, making a conscious effort to keep his voice neutral.
"Anything," Voldemort promised, a small smile tugging at his lips as Neville's eyes bulged out of his head at Harry's seeming acceptance.
"I want my parents back." Harry said, and this time, he made no attempt at hiding the contempt and venom in his voice.
Voldemort sighed. "You ask the one thing I can not give you. Surely you know that there is no way to raise the dead? It is why death is the ultimate punishment."
"Than I'm afraid we have no deal." Said Harry, lunging at Quirrell and knocking him flat, the wand flying from the wizard's hand. As Harry took hold of the man's neck, his head split open, and suddenly, the pain he had felt in the forbidden forest days earlier seemed nothing in comparison as he screamed in agony, hearing Voldemort's high cries of "kill him, kill him!" from somewhere far, far away. He felt Quirrell roll him onto his back, but Harry did not remove his hands, and the last thing he heard before the world around him faded to black was a cacophony of screaming.
June 7th 1992.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The Hospital Wing.
3:11 PM.
Harry let out a soft groan as slowly, ever so slowly, he felt himself drifting out of his slumber. He was not laying on a hard floor like the one he had blacked out on. The surface underneath him was warm, soft and comfortable. His eyes flickered, and for a second he did not recognize his surroundings.
"Am I dead?" He whispered softly, to which his words were greeted by an audible sigh of relief and a soft chuckle.
"Despite what must have been quite close to your best efforts, I assure you, my boy that you are very much alive." Harry tried to sit up in a flash but almost blacked out again as dark spots danced in front of his eyes and he felt a dejavu moment as hands eased him back onto the pillows. "Save your energy Harry, it is over, everything is perfectly in order."
"Quirrell — the stone — Voldemort?" He asked in a panic.
"It seems you are a bit behind the times. Quirrell does not have the stone Harry, please relax."
Harry took a deep, calming breath but still found that as he looked around the room, his eyes falling on what appeared to be several mountains of sweets, his heart rate would not come down.
"Tokens from your friends and admirers." Said the voice again, and looking at him properly for the first time, Harry recognized the rather tired looking face of his headmaster.
"Sir — the stone — Quirrell — did you get there in time? What happened? How long have I been out?"
Dumbledore sighed, a sad looking smile creeping onto his face. "I see you will not be discouraged so easily. Very well, you have been in the hospital wing for the better part of three days." When Harry made to speak again, Dumbledore raised a hand to silence him. "Quirrell did not manage to take the stone from you, Harry, I arrived in time to prevent that, though I must say, you were doing rather well on your own."
"You got there? How did you know what was going on, I thought you were gone from the castle."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "For all of Lord Voldemort's brilliance, not even he can unravel the most subtle of enchantments while imprisoned in the body of a lesser man, least of all when said enchantments are tied so closely to the magic of the castle. I was alerted as soon as the final chamber was entered, though it took me time to extricate myself from Cornelius's — that is to say, the minister's presence. Once I did so however, I rushed back here as quickly as I could." He frowned deeply. "When I saw the state you were in, I briefly thought that I was too late."
"You nearly were," Harry admitted disgustedly, "I wouldn't have been able to keep him from the stone any longer. I was never a match for him."
"Not the stone dear boy — you. The effort involved very nearly killed you, for a few fleeting moments, I was afraid that it had." He shook his head. "You should never have to be a match for a fully grown sorcerer at the age of eleven, such things are both impossible and foolish. That being said, there was very little for me to do once I had arrived. Professor Quirrell had already been defeated, and Lord Voldemort had fled." He shook his head, the saddest expression yet crossing his face. "As for the stone, it was never truly in any real danger at all."
"What?" Asked Harry, his eyes going wide. "Sir, what do you mean it was never in any real danger?"
"My apologies, Harry," said Dumbledore, "I underestimated how foolish that would sound without the proper context; allow me to elucidate. You see, The Philosopher's Stone was never, and has never been at Hogwarts, the replica that you managed to extract from The Mirror of Erised was just that — a replica."
Harry's jaw fell open. "W-what? W-why?"
Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Why? Because I knew that Lord Voldemort, no matter his condition, would never be able to pass up the opportunity to procure an item that he thought may return him to his former power, and with a few leaked breadcrumbs to the right people, I believed that I had an infallible trap in place."
"I don't understand." Said Harry.
"The Mirror, Harry, does far more than show one their heart's greatest desire. It feeds on the dreams and emotions of those who stare into its glass, and Lord Voldemort, being a Shade is little more than dreams and emotions himself at the moment." The headmaster shook his head again. "I believed that the mirror would, at the very least, trap Lord Voldemort in a state of helplessness, at which point he may have been finished off by the right people. At best, I had hoped that the mirror would absorb his essence completely, though between the two of us, I always knew that the latter option was unlikely."
"You set this all up to destroy him?" Realized Harry, thinking that, despite the recklessness of the plan, it had been a rather good one.
"I did," sighed Dumbledore, "but in my singular goal of destroying Lord Voldemort, I neglected to consider the possibility of others getting in his way."
"I'm sorry," said Harry, knowing that he very well may have botched the entire thing.
"Do not apologize for sparing Mr. Longbottom's life, Harry, that was a brave and noble thing to do, and I can not tell you how proud of you I am. No, by the time that you received your correspondence from Quirrenus, it was far too late to turn back. I was speaking, not of you, but of Ms. Hermione Granger."
"Yeah," remembered Harry, "yeah, what-what happened to her sir? If you don't mind me asking?"
"Seeing as her fate led directly to you being trapped in that chamber with a shade of your parents' murderer, I think it a fair question for you to ask. Ms. Granger, much like I know you yourself had, deduced that the Philosopher's Stone was being hidden in the third floor corridor, or at least, the corridor had something to do with the stone. She suspected the wrong man, but her intentions were good. Having found out that I would be absent from the school that night, Ms. Granger took it upon herself to guard the door that evening." Harry's jaw fell open and Dumbledore nodded. "I see that I am not alone in my ability to see the obvious flaws in that plan?"
"She could never have stopped Quirrell." Harry said bluntly, to which Dumbledore nodded.
"She did not suspect Quirrell, but yes, you are correct. She was caught by surprise and bent to the will of young Quirrenus and by extension, Lord Voldemort and forced to stun Mr. Longbottom and bring him down to the chamber, leaving you an enchanted piece of parchment to draw you down after them."
"The Imperius curse." Harry whispered, causing Dumbledore to raise his eyebrows.
"I must express my surprise and slight disappointment that you are aware of such a spell." He said honestly.
"My guardian told me about it." Harry said flatly, to which Dumbledore nodded.
"Is it safe to assume then, that your guardian is Augusta Longbottom?" Harry's eyes widened in panic but Dumbledore raised his hands in surrender. "I have no plans of taking you from her hands, as now more than ever, I see that you are better off with her, though I wish very much that it did not have to be so."
There was silence for a moment before Harry spoke. "Is she-is Neville-"
"Both are most alright," Said Dumbledore with a frown, "Mr. Longbottom is awaiting you back in Gryffindor tower, and will likely be waiting for answers on how you and he came to be in a chamber with Lord Voldemort."
"You didn't tell him?" Harry asked, trying not to sound accusatory.
"I did," assured Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye, "though if I have judged him correctly, I would hazard a guess that he will insist upon hearing it from your perspective."
'Damn he's perceptive.'
"I'm sure Hermione will want to talk to me too." Sighed Harry, not at all looking forward to that conversation.
"I think it unlikely," said Dumbledore softly, an odd note of sadness creeping into his voice.
Harry's heart froze. "You-you said she was ok, didn't you?"
"Oh yes," said Dumbledore, "she is perfectly fine, though I am afraid she remembers very little of that night."
"She would still remember waking up down there though, wouldn't she?" Asked Harry, not seeing how the imperius curse would remove that from her memory.
Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "It is not the curse that stripped Ms. Granger of her memories Harry — that was my doing."
Harry's jaw fell open. "But why?" He asked, anger rising. "How could you just-"
"Do you not see the problems that would have occurred had Ms. Granger retained those memories?" Asked Dumbledore heavily, suddenly looking every bit his age for the first time in Harry's memory. "Not only would she have been greatly traumatized, as she was after I filled in the blanks for her, but Hermione Granger, for all of her considerable brilliance, is not the person to keep a secret that could concern the magical world at large, and as you seem to know yourself, the continued existence of Lord Voldemort must be kept a secret from the greater magical community; at least for now."
Harry wanted to argue, to tell Dumbledore how wrong it was to just erase someone's memory, but he had to concede he was right.
'Hell, I probably would have done the same thing.
There was silence for a long moment before Harry spoke up tentatively. "Sir, I wanted to ask some questions?"
"The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."
"Down in the chamber," said Harry, now used to Dumbledore's odd way of speaking, "I talked to Voldemort. He-he said my mother need never have died; he said that it was me he was after." He wrung his hands, looking down into his lap as he tried to keep the emotion away from his eyes. "Why? Why would he come after a toddler?"
Dumbledore suddenly looked not just every bit his age, but a fair bit more so as Harry looked up to meet his eyes. "Alas, the first question you ask me, I can not answer, not today, not now. You will know when the time comes, when you are older — I know you hate to hear this — when you are older, when you are ready, I promise that you will know."
Harry bit back his retort. 'How could I be anymore ready? I just confronted The Dark Lord?' But he said nothing on the matter, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Even if Voldemort — er, sorry, you-know-who-"
"I appreciate your attempt at politeness Harry, but please, continue to call him Voldemort no matter your company. Fear of a name is irrational, it merely serves to increase fear of the thing itself."
"Yes sir, well — Voldemort is going to keep trying to come back, isn't he? I mean, it's clearly possible that he can, so he'll try again, will he not? I mean, he isn't gone, is he?"
"No Harry, he is not. Voldemort left young Professor Quirrell to die, choosing instead to save himself." He scowled. "He was never kind to those who followed him, he shows them as much mercy as he does his enemies. At any rate, Voldemort is not dead, but not being entirely alive either, he can not be killed, at least not through conventional means. I fear that your assessment, though rather daunting when considered fully, is correct. I do not think that Lord Voldemort is finished seeking power and retribution, not by a long margin." Harry scowled, dejected. "Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time - and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."
"How did I beat him though?" Asked Harry, confused. "I mean — Quirrell couldn't touch me, that's how I finished him, wasn't it?"
"It was." The headmaster agreed. "Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He did not realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."
Dumbledore became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gave Harry time to dry his eyes on the sheet. When he had found his voice again, Harry said, "And the invisibility cloak - you sent it to me, didn't you?"
"I thought you might enjoy it." Said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling briefly. "In hindsight, it may have led you into far more trouble than I had anticipated, but your father left it in my possession before he died, and I thought it prudent that it was returned to you."
"And there's something else..."
"Fire away."
"Quirrell said Snape-"
"Professor Snape, Harry."
"Yes, him - Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?"
"Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr. Malfoy. And then, your father did something that Professor Snape could never forgive."
"What?"
"He saved his life."
"What ?"
"Yes... " said Dumbledore dreamily. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt... I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace..."
Harry tried to understand this but it made his head pound, so he stopped.
"Sir, there's one more thing."
"Just the one?" Asked Dumbledore with some amusement.
"Sir, I've been working with Professor Flitwick on duelling." He knew that Dumbledore was aware of this, but felt it only proper to tell him anyways.
"I am aware," the headmaster admitted, "I hear you are doing quite well."
"Not well enough," said Harry, "I need to be able to contend with real wizards, especially if Voldemort is going to keep coming after me."
Dumbledore considered this for several long minutes before he spoke. "Continue your lessons with Professor Flitwick," he told him, "we will continue your progress with Occlumency, as its uses will be of great aid to you. Once we have reached a level where you may advance on your own, I will think more on the matter, and perhaps I will show you a few things myself." His eyes twinkled.
"Thank you sir." Said Harry sincerely, and Dumbledore smiled at him before getting to his feet and taking his leave.
June 8th 1992.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The Hospital Wing.
12:03 AM.
Over the next day, Harry was visited by Ron, Dean and Neville, though the latter returned that night to have a far more private conversation with Harry, having commandeered his invisibility cloak for the journey. Harry didn't mind.
He told Neville everything he knew about Voldemort, and explained in detail the events of the year.
"I'm sorry for keeping it from you." Harry told him honestly. "I just wanted to keep you safe."
"From now on," Neville told him fiercely, "you'll keep me safe by making sure I'm the best I can be with magic; not by keeping secrets from me, deal?"
Harry smiled, taking Neville's outstretched hand in the darkness. "Deal."
June 18th 1992.
The Hogwarts Express.
11:38 PM.
With no work to do and the threat of Voldemort gone for now, Harry had enjoyed his last ten days at Hogwarts quite a lot. Spending much of it in the company of his three best friends, with the rest of it being spent practicing Occlumency, magic, or with his nose in a book. Those times were limited however, as Harry, though understanding the importance of practice more now than ever, just wanted to enjoy as much stress free time with his friends as possible.
Before he knew it though, he was clambering onto the Hogwarts Express and getting a compartment with the three of his friends, smiling as they all levitated their own trunks up into the overhead compartment.
'How far we have come.'
Harry waited a bit more eagerly than the others as he knew that now was the time for end of year marks to arrive. They were about thirty minutes into a game of chess, in which Harry, being a bit distracted, was performing rather poorly when a prefect opened the compartment door and distributed their end of year results. Harry held his breath as he opened his and his friends rolled their eyes while he couldn't see them.
Dear Mr. Potter.
Please find enclosed your end of year marks in all of your classes. Thank you for your hard work this school year and congratulations on your achievements. We are eager to see what is in store next year.
With regards,
Minerva McGonagall.
Deputy Headmistress.
He pulled out the sheet of parchment he was looking for as his heart rate sped up.
Grades and Rankings:
Passing Grades:
O = Outstanding.
E = Exceeds Expectations.
A = Acceptable.
Failing Grades:
P = Poor.
D = Dreadful.
T = Troll.
Harry James Potter has achieved:
Astronomy E+.
Charms O+.
Defense Against The Dark Arts O+.
Herbology O.
History of Magic O.
Potions O.
Transfiguration O+.
Overall/Per Subject Rankings for The First Year:
Astronomy:
1: Granger Hermione, Gryffindor.
2: Patil Padma, Ravenclaw.
3: Patil Parvati, Gryffindor.
4: Boot Terry, Ravenclaw.
5: Davis Tracey, Slytherin.
Charms:
1: Potter Harry, Gryffindor.
2: Greengrass Daphne, Slytherin.
3: Granger Hermione, Gryffindor.
4: Patil Padma, Ravenclaw.
5: Nott Theodore, Slytherin.
Defense Against The Dark Arts:
1: Potter Harry, Gryffindor.
2: Nott Theodore, Slytherin.
3: Bones Susan, Hufflepuff.
4: Greengrass Daphne, Slytherin.
5: Longbottom Neville, Gryffindor.
Herbology:
1: Longbottom Neville, Gryffindor.
2: Greengrass Daphne, Slytherin.
3: Granger Hermione, Gryffindor.
4: Macmillan Ernie, Hufflepuff.
5: Potter Harry, Gryffindor.
History of Magic:
1: Granger Hermione, Gryffindor.
2: Potter Harry, Gryffindor.
3: Boot Terry, Ravenclaw.
4: Li Su, Ravenclaw.
5: Goldstein Anthony, Ravenclaw.
Potions:
1: Greengrass Daphne, Slytherin
2: Granger Hermione, Potter Harry, Gryffindor.
4: Davis Tracey, Slytherin.
5: Malfoy Draco, Slytherin.
Transfiguration:
1: Potter Harry, Gryffindor.
2: Granger Hermione, Gryffindor.
3: Thomas Dean, Gryffindor.
4: Greengrass Daphne, Slytherin.
5: Nott Theodore, Slytherin.
Overall Rankings:
1: Potter Harry, Gryffindor.
2: Granger Hermione, Gryffindor.
3: Greengrass Daphne, Slytherin.
4: Nott Theodore, Slytherin.
5: Patil Padma, Ravenclaw.
Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. 'I did it.' He thought. 'Three O+'s!'
"You did well then?" Asked Ron, amused.
"I did ok." Said Harry. "It went — OI!" Ron had snatched the sheet out of his hands and was reading it with a look of awe on his face.
"Bloody hell," he muttered as Dean and Neville leaned in to read, "three O+'s? I didn't even think that was possible?"
"Almost all O's too." Said Dean with a smile.
"Except Astronomy." Noted Neville with some amusement.
"I will curse all three of you." Said Harry dryly, to which they all laughed before handing him back his results. "How did you lot do then?"
"Decent," answered Neville, "A's in History and Potions, and E in Astronomy and Charms, an E+ in Transfiguration, an O- in Defense, and an O+ in Herbology.
"Good one!" Said Harry, leaning across to shake hands with the boy. "Except for Potions," he said mockingly, wanting the jab back for Astronomy, "that one's rubbish." Neville made a face at him as he turned to gaze at Dean.
"E's in Herbology, History, Astronomy, Potions and Defense, E+ in Charms and an O in Transfiguration."
"You've always been good at Transfiguration." Said Neville.
"I'm a very visual person," said Dean, who spent a lot of his free time drawing, "I think it helps."
"It probably does," said Harry, who was also quite visual in the ways he thought, though not to the extent of his friend, "with visualization especially." He looked at Ron who sighed.
"A's in Potions, History and Astronomy, E's in Herbology, Transfiguration and Defense, O- in Charms."
"Not bad at all." Said Neville with a smile, but Ron was shaking his head.
"It should be better," he said, "I was lazy. I didn't realize it until now, but I see the marks you two are pulling off." He scowled at Harry. "You don't count." He added pointedly. "You're a freak of nature." Harry winced imperceptibly at Ron's unintentional wording, but the other boy didn't notice. "I'm going to be better," Ron vowed, "you lot deserve someone better than what I did this year, and I'd like to be able to stick it to the twins." He said with a smile.
June 18th 1992.
King's Cross Station.
4:45 PM.
Harry and his friends were already changed into muggle attire by the time the train pulled into King's Cross station. They all stuck together until they found the first parents — Ron's.
"Ron, oh how good to see you! How was your year?" His mother, a short, plump woman with the same flaming red hair as all of her sons pulled Ron into a fierce hug that made him flush red.
"Mum!" He protested. "Not in front of my friends!"
"Oh hush dear," Said Mrs. Weasley, letting him go to look at the three of them. "You must be Dean, Neville and Harry!" She said, her eyes resting on Harry's forehead for a split second too long as the small girl holding her arm let out a squeak and covered her mouth, causing Ron to roll his eyes. "Ron has told us so much about you three!"
"Good things, I hope," said Harry nervously; this sort of thing made him more than a little bit uncomfortable. He stepped forward and extended a hand in a very polite, yet not quite cultured way; Ron had told them his family wasn't much for that kind of stuff. "Harry Potter, a pleasure to meet you ma'am and thank you very much for the gifts at Christmas."
"Oh, my pleasure dear!" She said, beaming as she clasped Harry's hand tightly. "Ron has said so much about you, so have the twins! You will have to come over this summer!"
"I would be happy to," said Harry, pulling a wrapped package from his pocket and handing it to Mrs. Weasley, "I felt bad that I hadn't gotten you anything, so a very late Merry — or early Merry Christmas to you."
She beamed. "Oh dear, you shouldn't have!" She exclaimed, gasping at the whole host of rich looking baking ingredients in the box. Ron had told him that they were among her favourites to use, but had hinted at the fact that they couldn't really afford them. "Oh my, how much money did you spend on these?"
"Not too much," dismissed Harry with an easy smile, looking a bit down to the girl who was still staring at him. She was probably taller than he had been when he had arrived at the Longbottom's, but she was a few inches shorter than him now, as he had grown quite a bit over the year, despite still being a bit short for his age, he was making progress.
The girl noticed his stare and let go of her mother's arm, stepping hesitantly up to him and extending a shaking hand. "N-n-nice to m-meet you Mr. Potter, my name is Ginny."
Harry smiled, sensing her nervousness and trying to ease it a bit as he took her hand. "Nice to meet you Ginny. Can you do me a couple of favours if it isn't too presumptuous of me to ask?" She looked nervous but nodded frantically. "First," he said with a mock glare at Ron, "make sure to give this idiot hell for me this summer, will you?" Mrs. Weasley had to try very hard not to smile as Ginny burst into a fit of giggles and Ron exclaimed "Oi!" rather indignantly as Neville and Dean cracked up. "Second," he said, causing Ginny to falter before he smiled warmly at her, "call me Harry. Your brother is practically family to me and it's weird for somebody younger than me to call me Mr. Potter. It makes me feel like I'm in trouble." She giggled again and nodded.
"Ok Harry." She said, her stutter gone as she reluctantly let go of his hand and stepped back.
"Well," said Mrs. Weasley with a smile, "it was nice meeting you Harry, Neville, Dean, but I need to find the rest of my sons and be off. You are welcome at our home anytime over the summer, take care. Let's go Ron, Ginny." And they were off.
"Really nice woman," said Neville and Harry nodded.
"Nice girl too," quipped Dean, "pretty too and she has the hots for you Harry, lucky boy." Harry blushed furiously while Dean and Neville started laughing as they made their way through the crowd in search of Augusta, not noticing the greyish blue eyes that followed the trio's raven haired counterpart hungrily, an ominous, vengeful gleam ever present within them.
Authors Endnote:
Wow! Year 1 in the books and can I just say — this is the most fun I have ever had writing a fanfic! I have genuinely enjoyed every second of it and can not wait until year 2!
I apologize for the small cliffhanger, but those who know me probably knew it was coming.
There will be no chapters for a few weeks as I need to get more of year 2 pre written. My tentative release date for the first chapter of year 2 would be Sunday Mach 8th, at which point weekly uploads would resume. This date could change if it takes me longer to write year 2 than I am estimating, but if it does, I will post on this story to let you all know so for now, assume March 8th as the release date for year 2!
A few quick side notes here at the end. First of all, thank you guys so much for the support on this story, every follow, favourite and review is both noticed and appreciated, and every last one of them means the world to me.
Secondly, I know year 1 was quite close to cannon, but the story will stray further and further from it as it progresses; you will begin to notice some massive differences come year 3.
Finally, I'm sure many of you have guessed correctly what that last scene meant, so feel free to leave it in a review for those who missed it if you'd like.
Thank you guys for all the support on year 1, and I will see you all for year 2!
Please read and review.