STRANGE DAYS

Chapter 252

See first chapter for disclaimers.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Storyseeker for beta-reading this. As usual, if you have any comments or preferences, please don't be shy. RandR.

Ascendance of a Bookworm & Didn't I Say to Make My Abilities Average in My Next Life?

And now…

Harry Potter And…?

The Power Voldemort Knows Not (Take 3)

Harry wanted out. He didn't know why he was in, but he wanted out. The six-year-old stared moodily at the door to his cupboard. Locked from the outside, of course. All he knew was that his cousin had fallen off the roof and broken his arm while Harry was weeding the garden. Harry didn't even know Dudley had gotten up on the roof. There had just been a surprised yelp, a thud and a lot of screaming.

Harry had gone to see if he could help, only to have his uncle rush out the door and knock him aside in his rush to get to Dudley. What happened next happened very quickly. Dudley cried, Uncle Vernon checked his arm and helped him up. Then, he'd looked around and spotted Harry.

Vernon Dursley's face had turned purple. "What have you done now, you little freak?!" He snarled. He took Dudley inside, calling for his wife. A moment later, he came out again, grabbed Harry by the ear and dragged him to his cupboard, practically throwing him in and locking the door. Harry had been there ever since. Almost two days. He was hungry, thirsty, and really needed to get to the bathroom.

Pushing uselessly on the door, he considered calling out again. It had only gotten him yelled at so far, but he really needed to get out! Pushing on the door and wishing, without warning, got results.

He stumbled forward, through the door and found himself in the living room. Looking back at his cupboard, he saw the door still closed and locked. He blinked and stared at the door and then looked around the room. Something was wrong, but it was a little difficult to tell in the middle of the night. Experimentally, he reached out and his hand passed through the cupboard door. That was weird, but what caught his attention was the way his hand looked. He pulled it back and stared. Then, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. What?

When he looked again, everything seemed normal. Weird.

Remembering his priorities, he went to the bathroom and then went to find himself something to eat. He had to be quiet, not wanting to find out what his relatives would do if they caught him out of his cupboard. Hurrying back, he realized that he had a problem. How was he supposed to get back in and lock the door behind himself?

He realized he'd have to do the thing he did to get out, but he had no idea how. He tried pushing on the door and wanting to pass through, as that had gotten him out. For a few seconds, nothing happened, and he was about to give up when the world went strange in a way he couldn't quite define, and he walked through the door.

OOOOOOOOOO

It took time to get a handle on his new ability. He wasn't sure what it was, but suspected it might be something like the powers used by the people in the cartoons Dudley liked. Could I be a superhero?

It was a thought that gave him some satisfaction. He'd looked at some of the comics his cousin had thrown away. It looked like an exciting life. I bet no one told Captain America to weed the garden or punished him for things he didn't do.

Strangest of all, but somewhat useful, he didn't look like himself when he used his power. He had noticed the first night that his hands looked strange when he was like that, so he had gone to the bathroom on the second night and looked in the mirror. His appearance had almost made him scream in fright. In the darkened room, he looked like a ghost with a bare, and somewhat distorted, skull for a face. He was wispy, like a cloud of gas, almost.

Despite the fact that it was the middle of the night, and he risked rousing his relatives, he quickly turned on the lights and looked again. It wasn't much of an improvement. He looked more like sand than smoke, but it still wasn't remotely human looking beyond the shape.

Weird. He wasn't sure what to do with this information, but he supposed it would keep anyone from recognizing him. That won't help if Unca Vernon sees me, he realized. Anything weird going on around the house, he got the blame for, whether he was involved or not.

It took a while, but he gradually figured out his powers. He could make himself like a ghost and walk through things, but if he touched anything that had electricity, it would hurt. A lot. Passing his foot through a lamp's cord had taught him that. It didn't make any sense to him, but accepted it as a rule he had to follow.

He kept exploring his potential over the following months and years, sometimes only barely keeping his secret. He was able to get more food, but not that much. His aunt would notice if too much was missing from the kitchen, and he refused to steal from the neighbors. He learned quite a lot about them, though. Moving about the neighborhood at night let him see people coming and going at odd hours.

He had seen unfamiliar men visiting houses when he knew that the woman's husband was away. He had seen people sneaking in through windows or breaking locks. On one occasion, he knew the man didn't belong because the neighbors were away. Aunt Petunia had been gossiping about it to another woman while he'd weeded the garden.

Sneaking around to the front door, he'd passed through, the only place he was certain there were no wires, and made his way through the darkened house to the back door, where the thief was still trying to pick the lock. Poking his head through the door had scared the daylights out of the man. That had been funny.

The oddest house in the neighborhood belonged to Mrs. Figg. He'd seen owls perched on her porch railing and even flying through a window once, and had no idea what that meant. Mrs. Figg would babysit him when the Dursleys wanted to go out to do something fun or if they were just tired of having him around.

Whenever he went by her house at night, the cats tended to watch him carefully and didn't seem in the least bit afraid of his ghost form. That made him strangely nervous, so Harry started avoiding that house when he went out exploring and testing his powers.

Mastering the various aspects of his power took nearly three years. He'd studied and experimented as best he could. He managed to prevent a few crimes, as superheroes were meant to. There always seemed to be more to learn and try, though. Just when he thought he had gotten used to the strangest aspects of his life, though, it got weirder.

Getting a letter addressed to him in the cupboard under the stairs was odd enough, but the look on his uncle's face as he tore the letter up worried Harry. He looked equal parts angry and afraid. On the upside, he did move his nephew into Dudley's second bedroom and out of the cupboard.

The letters kept coming after the first was ripped up. Getting his hands on one wasn't easy, even with his ghost form, but he managed it. Vernon actually took to sleeping next to the mail slot to intercept them.

Since he could walk through doors without opening them, it was easy to intercept a letter when he crept from his room shortly before dawn. The owl on the porch took in his shadowy/smoky appearance, cocking its head to one side, as if curious. Then, it stuck out the leg the letter was tied to.

Making himself solid, Harry took the letter, needing only a moment to free it from the bindings on the owl's leg. Who sends messages by owl? He knew that several of the species of owl that had been seen on Privet drive recently weren't actually native to England. One of the neighbors was a bird watcher, and Harry had heard her talking to Aunt Petunia.

His aunt had been hard-pressed to smile and act confused, but Harry could tell she wanted to snap at the neighbor to mind her own business and insist nothing abnormal was going on. He was certain that his relatives knew something he didn't about the owls; he just couldn't think what it could be. Hopefully, the letter would answer some of those questions.

He returned to his room, bypassing his uncle who was still snoring on the floor. Settling on his bed, he opened the letter and read it. After finishing it, he was more confused than ever.

A school for witches and wizards? Is this some kind of joke?

He recalled some of the weird things that had happened recently, including his cousin's 'accident' at the zoo. Vernon had reacted violently to the word magic as he always did. Could there be something to this?

He had no idea how he could find out, as his uncle became violent at the mention of magic He didn't even know how to respond to the letter. What was he supposed to do? Step outside and shout for an owl? The one on the porch had already flown away. This required some thought. He fetched some paper and a pen and wrote a reply, hoping he would find a way to respond at some point.

Dear Professor McGonagall;

Thank you for your letter, but I have a number of questions. I have never heard of Hogwarts and I am not convinced this isn't some kind of weird joke. I will need someone from the school to visit my relatives' home to explain things in more detail. If you do decide to send someone, please be aware that my relatives hate magic and anything they consider abnormal. I can't promise they won't become violent. They will definitely be rude. Please bear that in mind when choosing who to send. I look forward to your visit and learning more about the school.

Harry Potter

OOOOOOOOOO

Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall reread the letter with a frown. This makes no sense. The boy was unaware of Hogwarts? His relatives hated magic? The fact that he referred to them as his relatives rather than his family did not escape her notice. His relatives' home. That suggested that he didn't consider it his. She wondered if that would have implications for the strange wards Dumbledore had raised around the house.

The implications of young Harry's warning about the reception they'd receive didn't bode well either. Rising from behind her desk, she left her office and made her way to Albus Dumbledore's door.

"Come in, Minerva." The old man called out before she could knock. She rolled her eyes, as she turned the knob, knowing full well that the charms he kept around the entrance to his office let him know who was coming. It impressed the younger students, though, and the old man did love being impressive.

"Albus, I just got a response from Harry Potter. He apparently sent it through that squib woman you have living near him."

"I hadn't expected that," Dumbledore admitted. "It shows initiative, though." He took in the expression on his old friend's face. "Am I missing something?"

"Just what I told you from the start." Minerva answered tersely, handing him the letter. "That those people are the worst kind of muggles."

Albus read the letter with a troubled frown. That frown deepened as he reached the end. "I may have miscalculated," he finally admitted. Setting it aside, he considered his next move. "Who should we send? The Dursleys aren't a threat to any of us, but I believe we should make an impression."

"Send Severus." Minerva said promptly. The potions master would intimidate the boy's muggle relatives without even trying, and he would find the task onerous as well. He hated fetching new students, and his enmity with James Potter was well known. Despite that, he would do his job.

Albus nodded. "I believe you're right. He would be a fine choice."

OOOOOOOOOO

"I'm sure they'll send someone." Mrs. Figg poured tea for Harry as the cats in her house took turns using him as furniture. A tabby cat was curled in his lap at the moment. Or perhaps, he was just in its favorite spot on the couch. A white Persian used him as a platform to jump to a nearby bookshelf. Harry ignored them from long practice and focused on the Dursley's eccentric neighbor.

"Thanks again for helping with the letter. You were the only one I could think of that might know how to answer it." He had been hoping one of the owls would hang around to carry a reply, but they had all cleared out after he had accepted the letter. Fortunately, that meant that Vernon was in a good mood, thinking he had won, somehow, and driven off the owls. Harry didn't see the need to correct him.

"You hadn't much choice after the owls left." Mrs. Figg took the chair cattycorner to the couch and sipped her own cup of tea. "One would have stayed to carry a reply if you had asked it."

"Live and learn." Harry shrugged. "Perhaps you could tell me something about it? The school, I mean."

She shook her head. "I'm a squib, dear. Means that I was born into that world, but I don't have any magic. I never attended Hogwarts." She looked sad for a moment, then continued. "I've basically lived like a muggle, that's nonmagical folk, most of my life. I've maintained a few contacts, but I've little to do with the goings on at the ministry and such."

"Makes sense, I guess." Harry nodded. "Your family are your connection?"

"Yes, and a few friends. Family aren't purebloods, fortunately, or I'd have been cut off entirely."

"Pure bloods?"

She hesitated a moment. "Long story, Harry. You needn't trouble yourself about it. You come from a solid wizarding family."

Harry puzzled over her words, but decided not to push it. Instead, he asked another question that had been bugging him. "How do they keep it all secret? I mean, if there's a whole society of magic users, you'd think people would notice."

"They take precautions not to be seen. Most don't mix much with muggles in general, living apart. There are incidents, of course, but nothing the obliviators can't handle."

"Obliviators?"

"If someone breaks the statute of secrecy, it's their job to find any witnesses and modify their memories. Make them forget the incident or remember it without any magic involved."

Harry frowned at that. It was a frightening idea, but Mrs. Figg seemed unconcerned by the fact that there were people who could alter her memories to suit themselves. He would need to learn more about that. He added it to a list of questions to be answered.

OOOOOOOOOO

Harry eyed the stranger cautiously. He had arrived at the door wearing an outfit that reminded Harry of an old vampire movie he'd seen once. The man's manner didn't help dispel that perception. Vernon Dursley, Harry decided, was either very brave or very stupid. He refused to back down, arguing that he deserved respect in his own house while loudly proving otherwise, as far as Harry was concerned.

"I swore when we took him in that we'd put a stop to this nonsense." Vernon blustered. "He shan't be going. I'll not pay some doddering fool to teach him how to pull rabbits out of hats or whatever nonsense you get up to."

The man looked at Vernon Dursley as if Harry's uncle was something that had crawled out from under a rock. "You have some very bizarre ideas about magic. Do keep them to yourself." He turned to Harry, dismissing the man's existence.

"You people made us his guardians." Petunia stepped forward, placing herself beside Harry and glaring at the man. "You will not interfere in how we choose to raise him, and we say, no. I remember you." She glared at their visitor; pure venom dripping from her next words. "The horrid little boy that turned my sister against her family. After talking to you, she couldn't wait to rush off to that school and become more freakish than she already was!"

"Petunia." The man's tone matched hers. "As I recall, you asked when you could come to Hogwarts, and threw a tantrum when told you had no magic."

"I wanted to protect my sister!" She snapped. "Hopefully, get her to see reason and stop being a freak! My parents certainly weren't going to help." Her voice went up an octave. "'Isn't it wonderful? We have a witch in the family.' I was the only one who saw her for what she was and wanted to help her." She moved in front of Harry, almost as if trying to protect him. Harry didn't believe that was her intention. "Look how it all turned out. She met that Potter lout and had him." Her head jerked toward Harry. "I knew he'd be just as strange, just as abnormal. Then, if you please, she gets herself blown up!"

"Blown up?" Harry interrupted. "You said my parents died in a car crash."

The stranger's eyes narrowed and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. "Car crash? You dishonor your sister's memory with such a lie?" His voice was quiet, but Harry could practically feel the fury radiating from the man. "You've told him nothing about our world, have you?"

"He won't be a part of it." Vernon insisted. "Not while he remains under my roof. If you expect to take him off to your mad 'world' then don't bring him back."

"We shall see. For now, I need to get Mr. Potter his school supplies. As you have no interest in such matters, I am spared the need to explain the basics to you." He turned to Harry. "My time is limited, Mr. Potter. I can answer your questions as we gather your school things."

OOOOOOOOOO

"You knew my mother?" Harry asked down the strangest street Harry had ever seen. Diagon Alley was lined with shops right out of a fantasy novel. There were shops for potion supplies with some fairly gross things in the window. Another shop sold brooms, several of which hovered in the window on display. Another sold magic books. The displays in some windows would change periodically, the images and letters rearranging themselves without anyone doing anything or even paying attention to them.

All around him were oddly dressed people. They were doing ordinary things, for the most part, but they were doing them in decidedly odd ways. A tired looking woman in clothes that belonged in another century was walking down the street with her shopping bags floating behind her as if they were following her. A young couple with a stroller walked down the other side of the street, the stroller moving on its own.

"I did." The man who had introduced himself as Professor Severus Snape, Hogwarts' Potions Master, replied. "She was a fine witch, but that is not what should concern you at the moment." His tone indicated the topic was closed. Harry decided not to push.

"Hogwarts? I don't even know where to begin. What will I be learning? How will I pay for all of the things I need? I don't have any money."

"Let us deal with your financial situation first." He nodded toward the end of the street. "Gringotts is this way."

OOOOOOOOOO

Snape watched the boy with a carefully neutral expression. He was not what the potions master had expected. The arrogance that characterized James Potter was entirely lacking, though the fact that he had been raised by his magic-hating aunt and her pig of a husband might account for that.

What was Dumbledore thinking? Petunia was the worst possible choice. The boy was scrawny and small for his age, which indicated that he hadn't been fed properly. The way the boy dressed, clearly hand-me-downs from his fat cousin, suggested that they put as little effort and expense as possible into caring for him. While there were no overt signs of physical abuse, Vernon Dursley seemed a rather heavy-handed muggle. It was possible the boy had been beaten or otherwise abused. He'd be having words with Albus over his decisions.

Fortunately, the boy was reasonably efficient for an eleven-year-old. It didn't take nearly as long to fetch his things as Snape had feared. He sent a message to Dumbledore regarding the Dursleys. He wasn't sure it would be safe to return him to their home. Intimidation had its limits, and reasoning with a frothing bigot was an exercise in futility.

Rather than return him to the Dursley's home, he got Potter a room at the Leaky Cauldron. Waiting for Dumbledore to smooth things over with the muggles was an option, but frankly, he didn't trust them with Lily's son no matter what honeyed words the headmaster used.

OOOOOOOOOO

Harry settled into the room at the Leaky Cauldron. It was spartan, but it suited his needs, having a bed, a desk, a chair, a WC, and a small fireplace that was not connected to the floo network, whatever that meant. He had purchased a trunk and some new clothes as well as his school supplies. He was set for a time. No one knew he was there, as he'd gotten the room, at Snape's suggestion, under his mother's maiden name. It should make for a quiet few days until he heard from someone at the school. For now, he needed time to think. He wasn't sure what to make of the potions master. He was cold, even rude, but he seemed to have Harry's best interests in mind.

There were definitely things he wasn't being told, though. If there was such bad blood between his mother and aunt Petunia, why was he put there to begin with? The potions master had been less than forthcoming about that. How had his parents really died? Why hide it from him?

Harry did not like secrets. He outright hated being lied to. There were important things about his own life that he wasn't being told. The question was, how to find out? He had a means of spying on people and snooping that worked fine in the normal world, but for all he knew, every wizard could do it.

He'd need to find out a few things, clearly. Where to begin?

He had been warned to stay out of sight or he would attract attention to himself, but not why he would attract attention. If I need to stay out of sight, well, I can do that.

He spent a good part of the night ghosting around Diagon Alley. He located several interesting shops that he'd need to visit. He also found the office of a newspaper. That was a place he had to go. The bookstore was another. He hadn't had nearly as much time there as he would have liked. The store was closed, but he could get in easily enough. There was something he had noticed but had not had time to investigate.

There were a couple of books that had his name on the spine. He drew one out and examined it in the moonlight. After reading the description, he put it back and picked the other. There was no doubt the books were about him. The distinctive scar on the forehead made that clear. It also explained why he'd attract attention to himself. The books were supposedly scholarly works based on speculation about what happened the night his parents died. It was all speculation, though. Not terribly useful.

Unfortunately, the books told him nothing about himself. Carefully returning them to their original place, he ghosted out of the shop. He'd visit the newspaper tomorrow, after he found a way to disguise his scar.

OOOOOOOOOO

Harry settled into his seat on the Hogwarts' Express. He had a lot to think about. The dark wizard that had murdered his parents had apparently died that same night, and he was being hailed as a hero for some reason. That made absolutely no sense.

What happened next, made less sense. The dark lord, whose name was never mentioned in the paper, had followers that basically fell apart after his death. There were a few spontaneous acts of murder and terrorism, but most seemed to want to fade back into the woodwork. It seemed like most succeeded. There were some showy trials, but it was fairly clear that the number that went to prison was a pittance compared to the Death Eaters' true numbers. Maybe there were bribes made? If any of them held Harry responsible, people might still be after him, even 10 years later. He frowned. Possible?

He was so lost in his ruminations that he almost didn't notice the other boy coming into the compartment he'd claimed. Looking up at the second hail, he saw a redheaded boy. "Hm? Oh, sure. Have a seat."

"I'm Ron Weasley."

"Harry Potter." Harry nodded absently.

"Really?" The redhead's tone brought Harry out of his thoughts. "Do you have… the scar?"

Harry stared at him for a moment. "Seriously?" He sighed and raised his fringe.

"Cool!"

"I got it the night my parents died. What's cool about that?" Harry asked, more snap in his tone than he would have liked. The redhead flinched and gave him a look like a kicked puppy. Harry relented. "Sorry. It's a sore point for me."

Ron had the grace to look embarrassed. "Sorry. I…didn't mean anything by it."

"I know." Harry waved it off. "I've been getting that reaction a lot, though, when I'm recognized, and it's put me in a foul mood."

"I get it. I'd probably feel the same." He decided to change the subject, and soon the initial awkwardness was forgotten. At least, until a bushy-haired girl came in. She was looking for a toad that belonged to someone named Neville.

"Just have one of the prefects use a summoning charm." Harry offered.

"Summoning charm?" She blinked. "I hadn't heard of that one."

"I think it's taught in the 4th year." Harry offered. The girl stepped out briefly and then returned. "Thanks for that. Neville grew up in a wizarding family, but he hadn't considered that spell."

She took a seat next to Ron. "I'm Hermione Granger." She stopped and stared at the scar that was still on display. "Holy cricket! You're Harry Potter. I've read all about you."

"I doubt that." Harry answered. "I know there are books about me, and what happened that night, but they're all just speculation or outright fiction. Nobody ever asked me what happened. Not that I know myself." He admitted.

"Isn't that illegal?" Hermione frowned.

"In the muggle world, it is. Here? No idea." He shrugged. "I'm not going to let it bother me."

OOOOOOOOOO

Harry ghosted through the wall, into the third-floor corridor. He didn't know why the headmaster had all but dared students to go poking around there, but he wanted to know as badly as the rest and reasoned he could do it more safely than most. Whatever was in there, it probably wouldn't pose a threat to him.

The massive three-headed dog was a shock, but not a problem. The animal seemed unaware of him. There was a trapdoor under the dog, barely visible, but it took him a moment to figure out the best approach. Staying out of the beast's line of sight, he slipped down through the stone and into a passage beneath the trapdoor.

Interesting.

OOOOOOOOOOO

The troll approached Hermione, practically drooling. She dove to the side as it swung its club at her, barely avoiding the blow. She clambered to her feet to run but was too slow. The trolls second blow would have crushed her had the world not suddenly gone strange. The club passed right through her and she felt herself being pulled away.

The world snapped back to normal and she heard Ron, the prat, speaking.

"'Bloody Hell, Harry! What was that?"

She looked around frantically to find herself and the two boys near the entrance. "How?!"

"No time." Harry said as the troll looked from the floor to his club in confusion and then looked around. He was out of breath and shuddering for some reason.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked. "Did it hit you?"

"No. I just never moved another person like that. I'm fine." He frowned as the troll noticed them and started in their direction. Hermione whimpered. She doubted they could outrun it.

"Only one way to stop it, but I hate doing this." He picked up a shard from a shattered sink.

As Hermione watched, his form shifted. It almost looked like he became a living shadow. Muttering again about hating whatever he was about to do, Harry rushed forward and jumped. He almost seemed to fly at the troll, as it reared back, startled, and swung its club. The club passed through him as easily as he passed through the troll a second later.

"Eww!" Ron opined. "Troll diving."

Harry emerged from the creature's back and landed, becoming solid again. The troll roared in pain, thrashing around for a moment, before collapsing. It was clearly dead.

"How?" Hermione asked. Then, she noticed that the piece of sink he'd been holding was missing. "Where is that bit of sink you picked up?" Her tone suggested she already knew and didn't really want confirmation.

"I left it in his heart." Harry said. "If I let go of something while I'm like that, it turns solid again." The others gaped at him. "I really hate doing that. Never did it to anything alive before."

"I've never seen magic like that." Hermione breathed. "Or even heard of it."

"Me, neither." Ron shook his head.

"Could you keep it to yourselves, then?" Harry asked. "I'd rather no one knew." The last thing he needed was for other wizards to start calling him a freak.

They both nodded, too shaken to consider not agreeing. Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell, who barged in a moment later, weren't happy to find three students standing around the troll. Hermione started to speak, but Harry cut her off.

"Ron and me knew Hermione was in here, but the prefects were in too big a hurry to listen or do a headcount. So, we came to find her."

"Commendable, but reckless," the transfiguration professor said. "You had no way of knowing where the beast was."

"Doesn't that make sending us out of the great hall to begin with reckless?" Harry asked his head-of-house, her words giving him an idea. "Come to think of it, aren't the Slytherin quarters in the dungeon, where everyone thought the troll was?"

McGonagall paled. She sputtered briefly and then ordered them back to their common room without taking any points.

"'Cor, mate, that was brave, soundin' off to McGonagall like that." Ron said when they reached the common room.

"He was entirely correct." Hermione said supportively. "Sending the students out into the corridors with that thing roaming around was irresponsible. What was Professor Dumbledore thinking?"

Harry shrugged. The bigger question was still, how did something that stupid get into the castle? No way it could have managed it alone. Someone had let it in, but why? The only thing he could think of was the secret rooms the headmaster was hiding. Who else knew about it? At the moment, he had no way of finding out, but he was certain the teachers would be discussing it. Time for a little trip.

OOOOOOOOOO

"The hole in the wards has been closed, but the wards themselves may need review. Someone let the troll in." Dumbledore glanced around the table. All of them looked serious. They also looked worried, but none of them hesitated to meet his eyes, though. He saw nothing incriminating.

"You think whoever let it in was after the stone?" Snape asked.

"I can think of no other reason." He frowned thoughtfully. "We must proceed carefully. Preparations for the stone's protection are complete. Fortunately, Hagrid retrieved it from Gringotts just in time. I may need to add some additional protections that only I am aware of."

Harry listened to the rest of the meeting but learned nothing more of interest. Dumbledore was keeping his secrets to himself. Harry would have to check out the hidden rooms later. The stone they were talking about was a mystery, but there were only so many possibilities. Maybe Hermione would know.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Professor Quirrell is after the philosopher's stone." Harry said without preamble.

"What?" McGonagall blinked in surprise at the students before her.

"He's put the guard dog to sleep and gone down the trap door it's meant to be guarding."

"What?" She repeated. "Mr. Potter, I don't know how you know about the stone, but Professor Quirrell is a Hogwarts' teacher. He would hardly be stealing the thing he is helping to protect."

"He is." Harry said flatly. "Where is the headmaster?"

"He was called away to the ministry, unexpectedly. You needn't worry about the stone. It is well protected. I expect you three to keep silent about this and not speak of the stone to anyone else. There will be severe consequences for you if the general student body learns of it."

"What'll happen when their parents learn the headmaster is keeping something here that attracts murderous lunatics? Someone let the troll into the castle, probably as a distraction. Then, there's the three-headed monster dog behind a door any first year can open." He shook his head. "The students are the least of your worries." The double-meaning in his words left McGonagall's mouth hanging open.

He turned to Ron and Hermione. "Come on. We'll get no help here."

Hermione frowned as they walked out of earshot, headed toward their common room. "You really shouldn't tweak her nose like that. Granted, this wasn't well thought out, but-"

"'Well thought out?'" Harry asked incredulously. "I saw the so-called defenses. I'm pretty sure we could have gotten by them if we tried. Quirrell won't even be slowed down." He sighed. "Good thing I got rid of the damn stone last week."

"You're not tellin' us what you did with it?" Ron asked.

"Better you don't know." Harry assured him. He didn't know what means Voldemort, if that was who it was, used to track the stone. After carefully considering the options, he decided there was only one.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Professor Quirrell has vanished." Dumbledore told the assembled staff. "As has the philosopher's stone."

"Do we think he was working for the Dark Lord?" Snape asked.

"It is the only conclusion I can come to." Dumbledore sighed. "It would seem we have failed utterly. Fortunately, I-." A bag dropped onto the center of the table, seemingly out of nowhere. Several professors rose with wands drawn, looking for the source. Harry had already retreated to the empty classroom above and within seconds was making his way down the corridor outside it in as leisurely a manner as he could manage.

"What is it, Fillius?" The headmaster watched as his Charms instructor ran a series of detection spells on the sack.

"It's a sack." The professor said, somewhat perplexed. "There are no spells on the bag itself, but the contents have traces of a spell on them." He cast one more spell. "It should be safe to open."

With a few deft flicks of his wand, the headmaster opened the sack and upended it, spilling out several shards of red glass and a note. He recognized the colored glass immediately and paled slightly. The note unfolded itself, and Flitwick read it aloud.

"Here is your philosopher's stone back. Do better."

The teachers traded confused glances, and Flitwick cast spells on the glass. "Red glass with a Confundus variant on it? This was being passed off as a philosopher's stone? Albus! What were you thinking?"

OOOOOOOOOO

Voldemort was fuming. It hadn't been there. The stone had likely never been there. He had gone through all of that for nothing; teaching the classes, sneaking around like a common thief, working his way through those ridiculous 'defenses', simply for the old man's amusement.

No. He reconsidered. Dumbledore wouldn't set up something that complex just to prank him. He had been hoping to trap me with that absurd mirror. As if I wouldn't recognize its nature. Smashing the mirror may have been petty, but it would at least annoy the old man.

"What do we do now, my lord?" Quirrell asked as he sat down on the bed in the small room they'd rented.

"'We' will do nothing. Your usefulness to me is near an end." He could tell his host was worn thin by the possession, and would be dead within the hour. He had been an adequate vessel, but it would be necessary to find another soon.

"My honor to serve you, my lord." His voice was already growing faint.

"I know." Voldemort replied absently as he considered his next move. Quirrell slumped back against the wall as he lost consciousness for the last time, the back of his head banging into the cheap drywall. "Idiot." The muffled, irritated word was the last spoken in the room until the body was discovered.

OOOOOOOOOO

Harry's explorations of the school had revealed some areas that he couldn't enter. The headmaster's office was one of them. He supposed it had something to do with wards, but he knew nothing about them beyond the fact that there were such things.

It was a bit frustrating. Since he had learned, through Ron, from Mr. Weasley, that Dumbledore was supposedly his magical guardian, he'd been wanting to see the man, but given what he'd seen of the old man's decisions so far, he wasn't sure he wanted to meet the headmaster face-to-face without doing a bit of snooping.

OOOOOOOOOO

The Dursleys had, reluctantly, agreed to take Harry back. It had taken a considerable amount of gold, as well as a few veiled threats to accomplish, though. There were spells that could compel obedience, of course, but Dumbledore knew he had to draw a line somewhere.

He had not managed to spend any time directly with Harry. The boy seemed to be avoiding him. He couldn't be certain, of course. He had never actually summoned the boy to his office, but he had tried to arrange coincidental meetings in the corridors. That had failed. It was odd that Harry wasn't taking advantage of the invisibility cloak. Perhaps, he had more discipline than his father had had at that age.

Regardless, Harry would return to his relatives' home where he was safe. That was enough for now.

OOOOOOOOOO

"There's a giant snake in the basement." Harry announced as he entered the common room a few days after the start of term to find Ron and Hermione the only ones still up.

"Malfoy?" Ron asked, causing Hermione to roll her eyes.

"No. I mean under the dungeons. Deeper. There's a whole network of caves and tunnels down there. One of them has a giant snake sleeping in it."

The other two Gryffindors looked at each other in confusion. "What could that be? And what is it doing down there?" Hermione asked. Harry shrugged.

"I'm hoping you can help me figure that out." Finding the tunnel down there had been a complete accident, but he saw no reason not to take advantage of the place. The snake, of course, worried him. It would be easy enough to ensure it never woke up, but he'd like to know what he was dealing with.

He was careful in his explorations after the incident the previous year with the Cerberus and the troll. There was, literally, no telling what horrors he'd find in 'the safest place in wizarding Britain.'

"All right," Hermione began. "Let's get the basics. How big, exactly?"

OOOOOOOOOO

Hermione had nearly panicked when told the snake's size. The other particulars did nothing to calm her. When the thing started roaming the pipes and petrifying people, it only made it clear how dangerous it was.

"A basilisk. It has to be." Hermione's declaration caught the entire common room by surprise. Everyone looked around. "I've been in the library all afternoon checking the facts against all known magical beasts. Slytherin's monster has to be a basilisk." She explained her reasoning. While most agreed it was sound, no one knew what to do about it. Several people looked at Harry, hope in their eyes.

"This just means people will think I'm making a giant snake attack people instead of doing it myself, aren't they?"

Since he'd been outed as a parselmouth during Lockhart's short-lived dueling club, people had been calling him the heir of Slytherin. He knew that if the snake stopped attacking people after this little discussion, it would just confirm it for some people, but he didn't see any choice.

Later that night, he moved down through the ground and into the subterranean chamber. Harry listened carefully for sounds of the snake. He was much more careful now that he knew the thing's eyes could kill. Carefully, he made his way to the place he knew the beast slept, but he got a surprise when he poked his head into the main chamber.

Ginny Weasley was standing there before the basilisk wearing a blindfold and hissing at it. That's not normal.

From his vantage point, he couldn't see the snake's eyes, which was his intention. He focused on Ginny instead. She was speaking in parseltongue, giving the basilisk instructions. She was dressed in her school uniform and clutching a book in her hands like a talisman. I should probably take a look at that.

He waited till Ginny left, and the snake settled down to wait. It had been told to attack just before breakfast the next morning. Dropping from his vantage point, he fell slowly through the air and then the basilisk, leaving a stone inside the creature's brain. The beast gave an involuntary shudder and died. The next step was to get a look at that book.

OOOOOOOOOO

Harry presented the book to the headmaster, who examined it curiously.

"It's the diary of someone named Tom Marvolo Riddle. It's not a normal diary. Its, somehow, got a copy of his mind in it."

"That is worrisome." Dumbledore frowned. "Tell me how you came across this."

Harry told an edited version of the story, leaving out his abilities and the basilisk. It had been easy to get the diary. Before he could steal it, Ginny had actually thrown it away, having been spooked by her 'sleep walking.'

OOOOOOOOOO

Harry was left out of the steps the headmaster and staff took next, but he was able to spy on some of the proceedings. They were all puzzled over the basilisk's death, but he didn't learn much more. He did visit Ginny in the hospital wing where Madam Pomphrey was giving her a thorough checkup. The headmaster asked her about the diary and spoke to Mr. Weasley about how she'd acquired it.

Ron and Hermione got the whole story, but all he told anyone else was that he had found the diary after Ginny had thrown it away and was so creeped out by the talking book that he took it straight to the headmaster. Mr. Weasley had praised his common sense and promised to talk to Ginny about being more careful.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Harry. I want you to promise me you won't go looking for Sirius Black."

Harry looked at the Weasley patriarch in confusion. "Why would I go looking for someone that wants to kill me?"

OOOOOOOOOO

Black cursed as the rat darted through a hole in the wall. He gaped as Harry's form changed, seeming to turn to sand and smoke. The boy reached through the wall and returned a second later, holding the struggling rat by the scruff of its neck. Snape stared as well.

"Mr. Potter. Explain yourself."

"Cast the charm to revert an Animagus to human form." Harry said, resuming his normal appearance.

"This is nonsense. Black has clearly Confounded you." He raised his wand. "We'll sort this out after I drag you all back to the castle."

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione cried Snape's wand flew from his hand. The potions' master rounded on the girl as Lupin caught the wand.

"I'll do it." He waved the wand and the rat began to grow. Harry set him down and pointed his wand at the revealed Peter Petigrew. "It would seem you were right, Severus." Lupin offered, deciding to hold onto Snape's wand for the moment. "It is just a rat."

Snape stared incredulously at the sniveling wizard on the floor, before glancing at Black.

"Looks pretty lively for a dead man, doesn't he, Snivelus?" Black smirked. He cast a body bind curse on Petigrew and levitated him. "I believe you wanted to go back to the castle?"

OOOOOOOOOO

The minister was less than pleased to have evidence of such a blatant miscarriage of justice dumped in his lap. He felt better, though, when it was pointed out to him that he had not been minister at the time, and could blame the entire mess on the previous minister.

Black received his trial and was soon exonerated with a healthy settlement from the Ministry. Harry was offered a place at Sirius' home, but Dumbledore interfered. He didn't learn precisely what was said, but he was sent to the Dursley's for a month. They weren't happy to see him.

Fortunately, when that month was over, he went to live at Number 4 Grimmauld place. It seemed that it had to be warded to the headmaster's specifications, and the house itself had been empty except for an insane house elf and an even madder portrait. It made for an interesting summer.

OOOOOOOOOO

"The World Cup was a publicity disaster for Britain." Harry noted, reading the Daily Prophet. "The ministry is trying to put the best spin on it, but you can tell their reputation took a hit, internationally."

Hermione nodded. "True. It can't look good to host such an event and have terrorists turn it into a free-for-all. I doubt it is anything we will need to worry about, though." Harry and Ron glanced at her. "I mean, whatever repercussions there are, I doubt it will affect Hogwarts' students directly." She turned to Harry, deciding to change the subject.

"What did the headmaster have to say about your strange magic?"

"He asked, but there wasn't much I could tell him. It's just something I can do." Harry shrugged. "Whatever he thought about it or about what Snape told him, he's keeping it to himself." He frowned. "Not sure why, but that worries me."

OOOOOOOOOO

"I've never seen anything like it." Snape reiterated. "I've looked through our library and my own references. His ability is unprecedented."

Dumbledore frowned. He had come to the same conclusion. Harry hadn't been very forthcoming about it. Its use had been too deliberate for accidental magic, at least magic that was new to the boy. Interesting.

Sadly, the boy didn't seem to trust him much for some reason. He'd need to try to rectify that. It wasn't as if there weren't other pressing matters to attend to, though. The Tri-Wizard Tournament would involve a great deal of work for everyone. It would also create opportunities for Voldemort and his followers.

OOOOOOOOOO

Barty Crouch Jr. stumped his way along the corridor, supposedly on patrol for the night. While he was indeed slated for patrol and was keeping an eye out for students, his primary aim was to deposit the brat-who-lived's name in the Goblet of Fire, fulfilling his master's wishes.

He stuck to the patrol route he had been using all term and finally made his way to the goblet. It was still several nights before the drawing as he had needed to wait until it was almost time. The longer the confundus charm was on the Goblet, the more likely Dumbledore would notice something off. Still, he wasn't prepared to wait till the last minute. He always planned for things to go wrong.

Approaching the hall where the Goblet sat, waiting for eager competitors, he approached with no attempt at stealth. After all, Alistor Moody had no cause to be sneaking around. Checking on the Goblet was part of his duties. He paused before entering, looking around suspiciously. He was still getting used to Moody's damn eye. There were clearly things about it he didn't know. Several times over the last week, he had seen, or thought he saw, shadows moving strangely. When he investigated, though, he found no evidence of anything strange. He knew there were only so many ways to conceal one's presence. The eye could see through them all.

There was no one there. He put it down to nerves. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the slip of paper with the boy's name on it and took a last look around as the shadows flickered again. Nothing.

Taking a step into the hall, he realized he'd dropped the paper and quickly retrieved it. Stumping blatantly up to the Goblet, he made a point of checking the ward lines and the stand on which the Goblet rested. He dropped the name in after making a last check to see no one was watching.

OOOOOOOOOO

The Goblet flared and a fourth piece of paper shot out of it. Though surprised, Dumbledore caught it deftly out of the air and read the name. "Barty Crouch Jr." He stared, startled despite the proof he'd seen earlier that day.

He looked to the table where Barty Crouch Sr. sat, looking stunned. The man looked around wildly and his eyes settled on Moody, leading Dumbledore to wonder if it had been a good guess or if there was some collusion. What happened next, happened very quickly.

Spells flew back and forth at the head table, much to the confusion of most of the students. Harry quickly urged everyone to use shield charms. The headmaster had had decidedly mixed feelings about what Harry had done. While understanding that it was a spur of the moment plan, after figuring out what the Death Eater was up to, he wished Harry had done something other than substitute Crouch's name for his own.

OOOOOOOOOO

THAT MORNING:

After seeing the map that morning, and marveling over it for a moment, Dumbledore had asked why Harry was showing it to him rather than attend class with Professor Moody.

"Take a look at the defense classroom."

Dumbledore took a moment to learn how to focus the map and saw Crouch's name. "Why is Barty Crouch in the classroom? And where is Professor Moody?"

"Moody's locked up in a trunk in the defense professor's office. That's Barty Crouch Jr. The map only distinguishes between them when both are in the castle."

"Tell me everything." The headmaster instructed, retaking his seat.

Harry laid out for the old man how he had used the map to move around the castle and track people he needed to find. He had noticed Barty Crouch's name on the map while coming back late from the library and trying to avoid Filch. Connecting Moody to the name Crouch moving through the castle at night made him very suspicious. A little digging had gotten him the information that Crouch Jr. was a Death Eater that had supposedly died in Azkaban years before.

"Thank you for bringing this to me, Harry. I know you've had trouble trusting me, and I'd like to try to remedy that." He looked back at the map. "For now, I need to decide how to handle young Mr. Crouch."

"Handled. Sort of. I didn't figure out what he was after till last night. He wanted to put my name in the Goblet of Fire. I managed to stop that."

"Then, he knows."

Harry shook his head. "Turns out that the eye he took from Moody can't see me when I use my special magic. He thinks he put my name in the Goblet, and he never saw me."

"So, what did he put in the Goblet of Fire?"

"His own name." Harry smirked. The headmaster's wince was just a bonus. The magical contract binding the champions, Harry was told, would affect Crouch as well, and anyone interfering with him doing so would suffer consequences.

"Better than having my own name in there." Harry shrugged. "You're clever, sir. I'm sure you'll figure something out. Seems likely that he can tell you all about Voldemort's plans, though."

"Indeed." Dumbledore acknowledged. That was a bright spot. "I have plans to make, Harry. You'd best get going. I recommend spending the rest of the defense class in the library, and try to avoid Crouch's attention for the rest of the day."

OOOOOOOOOO

PRESENTLY:

Barty Crouch Jr. awoke in the school's infirmary. He tried to sit up and found that he couldn't. He couldn't move anything below his neck.

"Don't bother." The voice was familiar and he managed to glance over. Alistor Moody was watching him with a decidedly unfriendly expression. "We're going to have a chat. I've already gotten permission to use veritaserum, so don't think you'll be able to lie your way out of this."

He heard something from the other side of the bed and turned his head. Potter and Dumbledore were there, watching the proceedings.

OOOOOOOOOO

Voldemort hissed in irritation as Riddle house burned down around him. Crouch had evidently failed. The Aurors attacking the place were proof enough of that, but even weakened as he was, if they thought he'd be an easy target, they were fools. Anti-apparition wards had been raised immediately, but wards to stop a portkey were far more complex and took longer to arrange.

"Time to go, Goyle." His servant picked him up and activated the portkey. He wasn't sure what had gone wrong, but it wouldn't take long. He had other assets at Hogwarts.

OOOOOOOOOO

Goyle was excited. He had never done anything terribly important before. He had helped put a couple of muggleborn students in their place, but that didn't compare. He, Crabbe, and Malfoy had carried out an actual mission from the Dark Lord!

Grabbing Potter was easy, and with the specially tuned portkey, getting him out of the castle had also gone smoothly. Now, they were waiting for the Dark Lord to return as promised. The three of them were waiting in a cavern that, they were told, was not that far from Hogwarts, with two men in Death Eater robes. Draco theorized that it was intended as a staging area for an attack on Hogwarts. Another Death Eater approached, levitating a cauldron and carrying an odd bundle in his arms.

Potter didn't seem all that worried, for some reason. He was tied to a stalagmite and actually looked rather bored. Goyle walked over and struck him across the face.

"Pay attention, Potter. The Dark Lord will return soon and kill you slowly."

"We'll see." Harry answered.

"Indeed, we will, Harry Potter." A soft hissing voice replied. Goyle tried not to stare when he realized that it was coming from the bundle. "We must begin the ritual." This was apparently spoken to the man carrying the bundle. The Death Eater in question lowered the cauldron and passed the bundle he carried to one of the other masked and robed adults.

He began a ritual that involved taking a bone from a box he carried and dropping it into an already simmering cauldron. When the one performing the ritual approached Harry with a knife, talking about forcefully taking his blood, the boy-who-lived decided that enough was enough.

"Now would be good," he muttered. As if on cue, the knife and the Death Eater flew in separate directions. The one holding the odd bundle was knocked off his feet, and the bundle went flying with an outraged shriek, and the last crumpled to the cavern floor before he could even draw his wand. The three Slytherin students looked around in confusion, belatedly drawing their own wands, only to be stunned by unseen opponents.

The cavern was suddenly full of red robes. They secured their prisoners quickly and efficiently. Moody moved among them, barking orders and personally collecting the 'bundle' that was snarling threats at anyone who came close. After a few minutes, he came over and stood before Harry.

"Goin' ta stay there all night, kid?"

"Just waiting for someone to cut me loose."

Moody snorted. "As if you need that. Dumbledore briefed me."

Harry frowned. "Given how many secrets he has, you'd think he'd be more considerate of other people's secrets." He shrugged and went shadow, stepping through the ropes, causing Moody's real eye to widen in surprise. The old auror had never seen that before.

"What's happening back at Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"Barty Crouch Sr. was arrested for breaking his son out of Azkaban. Seems he's been keeping junior under the Imperius for years, so they'll both be going to Azkaban for life. They're still debating on how to handle junior's inclusion in the tournament since interfering with the tournament participants carries penalties." He scowled. "I understand we have you to thank for that."

"There's an easy way out of it." Harry admitted. "But I'm really not inclined to do the headmaster any favors."

Moody chuckled ruefully. "I suppose I can understand that." He nodded to the three students. "Dunno what'll be done about them. Political hot potato." He grimaced as the quickly transfigured and warded crate that held what was left of Tom Marvolo Riddle was carried away. "Glad I'm retired. I won't be the one dealing with this mess. We'll likely turn Voldemort over to the Unspeakables, at least for a while. They'll want to experiment on him to figure out how he did this to himself."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer…revenant?"

Moody cackled. "Close enough. Come on, kid. Let's get you back to school."