* AN: Great thanks to my friend Skelekitty for his help in polishing this chapter.
Disclaimer: I DO_NOT own "Harry Potter". No profit is being made.
Harry Potter :: Emily
Eight year old Harry Potter let out a deep sigh as his stomach rumbled hungrily - that old piece of toast he had been allowed to eat this morning wasn't enough to satiate him - but pushed forward, determined not to be late to school. He didn't want to upset Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia even more, especially when they were still angry at him for the rooftop incident.
Speaking of which, Harry still had no idea how he managed to do ...whatever he had done that day. He actually didn't have a good recollection of events. Just that he found himself cornered in the school's backyard by his Cousin and his gang and desperately wished to get away from them. The next thing he knew, he was on the school's roof. And he was certain that he didn't just climb up there like the teachers claimed he did. The punishment Uncle Vernon gave him that day kind of confirmed that - he was punished this badly only when unexplained, freakish incidents happened around him. Like that time when Mrs. William's wig suddenly turned blue.
Could these inexplicable events that sometimes happened around him actually be caused by him? His Uncle and Aunt certainly acted like they indeed were. Was he really a freak like they always said he was? This was not a good thought to dwell on, but it stubbornly refused to leave his mind.
Then, without a warning, something unexpected and, well, freakish happened, causing him to freeze mid-step: there was a whisper coming seemingly from inside of his head. Alas, the voice was too weak and quiet to make out what it was saying.
"Huh?" Was the only response that Harry could muster. There was a pause that felt like ages, before the voice spoke again, this time actually loud enough for him to understand what it was saying, even if it still was quiet and muffled. Surprisingly enough, it also sounded like a girl around his age.
'I said, you aren't a freak, Harry.' The voice said.
"Uhm… Thank you?" The green-eyed boy replied, not having a good idea how to respond to the strange voice in his head.
"Isn't that the delinquent boy poor Petunia has to deal with, Piers?" Someone asked nearby. "What's wrong with him?" Hearing this brought him back to reality, making him realize that he was still frozen mid-step in the middle of a road.
"Don't know, mom." One of Dudley's gang mates replied. "He's always been kind of stupid, but this is new even for him. Wonder what happened to finally fry his tiny brains out."
"Now, now, Piers, darling." Mrs. Polkiss scolded her son. "You shouldn't call people stupid, even if it is true. It's not nice."
Tuning the rest of their conversation out, Harry reminded himself that he had to hurry if he wanted to arrive at his class on time. Still, even as he walked as fast as he could towards the school, the green-eyed boy couldn't push thoughts about the voice he had heard in his head out of his mind. Whoever that mysterious girl was, she sounded nice. Maybe she could be his friend? That would be really nice, especially since his Cousin wouldn't be able to scare her away like he had done with all the other kids who had tried being nice to him.
Unfortunately, he had absolutely no idea how he could talk to her some more - how does one even communicate with people hiding in their heads anyway? - and the mysterious girl hasn't tried to lift up her voice again either. Still, Harry finally had a hope for a friend, and he wasn't going to give up on it easily. Thus, he vowed to do his best to find a way to talk to the mysterious girl again.
It took him a few sleepless nights to finally succeed in contacting the girl in his head. He wasn't entirely sure how he actually managed that but, apparently, focusing on the odd feeling he remembered having when the girl spoke to him and pushing his thoughts beyond it allowed him to reach her somehow.
And, of course, the first thing he asked her was whether she was okay.
'I'm alright, just weak.' The girl-in-his-head replied. 'Reaching out to you back then took a lot out of me, but I wanted to tell you that you aren't a freak no matter what your Aunt and Uncle tell you.'
'Thank you.' Harry said. There was a pause, before he cautiously asked his new might-be friend: 'Uhm… Who are you?'
'I…' The mysterious girl began. 'I don't know.' After being silent for a few seconds, she continued: 'I… Uh… Came to awareness only recently - I don't even know how long ago it happened, I can't feel anything but glimpses of your emotions here - and my memories are all kinds of fuzzy right now. I don't remember what my name is. Or if I even have one. I don't even know what I am. I...'' The girl's voice broke, betraying how distraught and close to breaking down she was. And the young Potter had no idea how to go about comforting her. Still, if she didn't even have a name, then perhaps they could find a new one for her?
'Do you want a new one? ...A name, I mean?' He asked.
'That would be nice.' The girl replied. And a moment later Harry realized that he had no idea how to go about giving someone a name.
'Uhm… Is there any name you want to be yours?' He asked finally. His question was met with a rather lengthy silence as the girl thought it over. Eventually, she agreed, asking for something that sounded nice. This was followed by another period of silence as Harry tried to think up a nice name for his new friend. 'How about Beatrice?' He asked.
'Don't like it.' The girl replied, causing Harry to pout: choosing a name for someone was hard. Still, his new friend deserved a name she liked, so he wasn't going to be upset with her for rejecting his first idea.
'Hmm… Mary?' He made another suggestion, this time going for a simpler and more common name. The girl considered it for a bit before shooting it down as well. This made him let out a small sigh: finding a name that she would like, he thought, would be a long process.
And speaking of ideas, he was running out of them. Sure, he could just list all the girl's names he knew and let his new friend decide which she liked the most herself, but… Wouldn't that just be the lazy way of doing things? No, despite his first few suggestions being shot down, Harry was yet to lose his determination to give his new friend a name the 'right way'. He just needed some inspiration…
Alas, the bare walls of his cupboard under the stairs weren't very helpful at inciting his inspiration. So, Harry turned his mind to things that he had seen outdoors earlier today, hoping that something there would give him some inspiration. And he got it as he remembered passing by an ad for a concert at the local mall, talking about 'the rising star of the neighborhood', Emily Wickers. Of course, naming someone after a local singer wasn't the best idea, but Harry thought that 'Emily' might be a nice name so he decided to give it a try.
'How about Emily?' He asked finally. For a few long moments the girl in his head was silent. Then, she surprisingly accepted the name he had just suggested.
'Sounds good. I'll take it.' The now-christened Emily said. This was followed by an awkward silence as neither of the two kids had any idea what to say next. 'So…' The girl finally began. 'What is the world out there like? I only get glimpses of your emotions there. Like how you were afraid that your Aunt and Uncle were right about you being `good-for nothing freak`, those jerks.' She asked.
'Well...' Harry began his tale, starting with the simple fact that his current room was a cupboard under the stairs that the Dursleys had oh-so-generously provided him with. Emily was very much appalled at his treatment by these people and was quick to reassure Harry that his relatives were mean towards him because they were massive jerks and not because he was a freak or other such nonsense.
The two of them ended up talking well into the night, so much so that Harry eventually had to ask postpone their conversation until later - talking to Emily required conscious effort from him so he couldn't do it while asleep, and he did need to get some sleep so that he wouldn't be dead on his feet tomorrow morning. Emily reluctantly agreed.
Unfortunately for Harry, he had been too excited about all this to actually fall asleep until the wee hours in the morning.
~/ *** \~
The months that followed saw Harry's life getting a bit more pleasant, especially once Emily grew powerful enough to be able to freely talk to him of her own volition. Of course, not everything was great: he was still living in the cupboard under the stairs and the Dursleys still made him do all the chores, but now he had a friend!
And his friend was telling him the most wonderful things.
Even if a good deal of her memories appeared to be gone for good, Emily still remembered enough to unveil the existence of Magic to him, and prove that it was indeed real. She also helped him learn how to create a small ball of light. Harry had also tried to learn summoning and banishment of small things, but met little luck there. It was still very impressive as, according to Emily, wandless Magic even on such level was beyond most wizards.
Unfortunately, making a wand himself was not an option for the young Potter as Emily had no idea how to make one, only that it required materials one could only find on the Magical side of the world. And it seemed to be too scared of Little Whinging's normality to reveal itself to Harry. Thus, he'd have to wait until someone took him shopping for a Magical school - Emily had no doubts that one would want him as a student - to obtain a wand.
He only had to wait.
And as Harry continued to practice his wandless Magic, he began noticing something quite interesting. In addition to getting better with what he could do, he was also suffering less cases of 'freakish things' happening around him when his emotions were running high. And, for the most part, Harry was happy about that. True, he missed his accidental Magic helping him escape Dudley's gang occasionally, but he most certainly didn't miss punishments his Aunt and Uncle would give him afterwards.
At least, now that he wasn't as prone to outbursts of accidental Magic anymore, the Dursleys had little reason to punish him for his 'freakishness' and while they still didn't like him, they did start treating him a little better.
That, of course, didn't mean they suddenly started including him in their celebrations when they had an option not to. Which meant, Harry was still dropped at Mrs. Figg's almost every time the Dursleys were celebrating something out of the house.
Not this time, though. The old cat lady was in the hospital because she broke something when she tripped over one of her cats and fell down. Thus, no matter how much Dudley had cried that he didn't want him on his birthday trip to a zoo, the Dursleys had to take Harry with them.
The zoo was an exciting place and Harry was happy to be there, even if being constantly reminded that he wasn't wanted kind of put a damper on it. Still, seeing the animals live was a great experience, which could've been even better if more of them did something other than eating or sleeping.
Just like the rest of the zoo, the serpentarium was an interesting place that had snakes from all over the world on display. And almost all of these snakes were just lying under the lamps and paid no attention to the world around them. This, of course, resulted in Dudley being very bored of the place and - after his attempts to make the reptiles do some cool things for him failed - wishing to go elsewhere. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon agreed and Harry, not wishing to get lost, had to follow his cousin as well.
Just as he was walking past a terrarium with a large brown boa constrictor, though, the young Potter heard someone complain about annoying two-legs ruining the speaker's rest.
"Huh?" Was Harry's very eloquent response to that. Still, it drew the attention of the constrictor. The snake raised its head from its coils and looked at him intently.
"You speak, two-legs?" It asked. "I've never heard of a two-leg that can speak."
"What do you mean? All humans can speak." Harry asked, his mind still not caught up to the fact that snakes shouldn't even be able to speak - at least not in a way that he can understand.
"You, two-legs, only make those weird noises." The snake replied. "You don't speak like I do." Before he could ask anything else, he was pushed aside roughly by Dudley who came to see a snake doing 'something interesting'. Harry was certainly not happy about that but, thankfully, his Magic didn't lash out and do something 'freakish' like vanishing the terrarium glass.
Meanwhile, seeing the speaker two-legs disappear, the boa constrictor went back to minding its own business, which resulted in one very disappointed Dudley walking away, muttering something about stupid snakes under his breath. And as much as he was interested in what the constrictor wanted to say, Harry decided not to try his luck talking to it again and quietly walked after his Cousin out of the serpentarium.
Some time later, as Uncle Vernon was driving them back to Privet Drive, Harry decided to ask Emily about his conversation with the boa constrictor. The girl in his head was silent for quite a bit, before finally saying:
'Being able to talk in animal languages is very uncommon, I believe.' Her memories actually didn't have anything about such abilities at all, but saying that Magic doesn't allow such a thing would be stupid. 'And, from what you're telling me, you were definitely speaking snake, Harry.'
'So… I have some rare talent that lets me talk to snakes?' He observed.
'Seems so.' Emily replied. 'And it might be wise to keep quiet about it. Who's to say that other Magicals won't treat you badly because of that, like the Dursleys treat you badly for being Magical?' Harry nodded: that made sense.
~/ *** \~
A week before his eleventh birthday, Harry got a letter from some place called 'Hogwarts', which apparently was that Magical school in Scotland Emily had mentioned a few times. The letter came together with the more mundane morning mail and the young wizard was quick to hide it from his relatives' eyes: there was no way his Aunt and Uncle wouldn't destroy it if they ever saw it.
Later that night, in the safety of his cupboard under the stairs - which, somewhat disturbingly, was where the letter was addressed to - the young wizard finally read his Hogwarts letter. He was indeed invited to study Magic at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, though he wasn't sure he would be able to accept this invitation.
'They are awaiting my owl? What does that even mean?' He asked Emily.
'I think that's how they send letters.' She replied. 'Not sure why your letter had arrived with the normal mail. Maybe they train the owls to drop letters into mail-slots if the house is non-Magical?'
'Alright.' Harry said, accepting his friend's theory. 'But how do I get an owl to send my response with? It's not like I can go outside with a letter and one would swoop down to deliver it for me… Do owls even live in the neighborhood?'
'I don't think they're actually expecting you to have your own owl, so one must be waiting around for your response.' Emily told him. 'Just write that you accept the invitation but want someone to help you buy the things - I know there must be Magical shops, but I have no idea where they are. If there are no owls waiting for your response we will try to think up some other way to get your letter to Hogwarts.' Harry nodded and began composing his response, ever so thankful that his school supplies were stored in his cupboard and not elsewhere in the house.
And when he sneaked into the backyard early in the next morning with a letter in hand, a barn owl swooped down from a nearby tree and 'offered' to deliver his missive to Hogwarts.
The next morning a response to Harry's letter arrived with the morning mail. Some witch named Minerva McGonagall, apparently the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts, informed him that his acceptance of invitation was noted and that she will escort him to Diagon Alley in a week's time. She also answered a few of his questions, including the most important question of how he was going to pay for his education - apparently, he needn't worry about that as his parents had already paid it in full before their untimely death.
And just as she had promised, Professor McGonagall graced the Dursleys' doorstep with her presence a week later. The Dursleys, of course, were less than thrilled about that. And as Uncle Vernon was trying to keep Harry away from anything 'freakish', he accidentally let it slip that the boy's room was a cupboard under the stairs.
Let it be said that an angry witch is something that should rightfully be feared.
By the time Professor McGonagall finally ran out of steam, the Dursleys looked absolutely terrified and Harry became the new owner of the smallest bedroom on the second floor.
The journey to London could've been a little more comfortable as the driver of the Knight Bus, apparently, didn't actually know how to drive, but Diagon Alley was fantastic. The shopping took a few hours, but eventually Harry had everything he'd need for Hogwarts and then some. He even had a wand now - though Professor McGonagall told him that he was not to use it as, apparently, underage wizards and witches weren't allowed to do Magic away from school. That was a bit of a letdown as the young Potter had hoped to practice some spells before September the first.
And as they were riding the Knight Bus back to Little Whinging, Professor McGonagall gave Harry his tickets for the Hogwarts Express that would take him to Hogwarts, as well as some detailed instruction on how to get to the platform 9¾ at Kings Cross the train departed from.
All in all, it was a good day.
~/ *** \~
It was probably a promise of not having to see him until the next summer, but Uncle Vernon was kind enough to drive Harry to Kings Cross on the morning of September the first. Of course, the walrus-like man couldn't help but make a snide remark about the noticeable lack of platform 9¾ where one would've expected it to be.
"Your platform should be somewhere here, but they, apparently, forgot to build it." He said. "Have fun at your school and don't come back to my home until next summer."
Ignoring the remarks, Harry thanked the man for the ride and, following Professor McGonagall's instructions, walked through a brick column separating platforms 9 and 10. Just like he was promised, he found himself on the Magical platform 9¾, where a steam engine-driven red train was waiting. And since it still was nearly an hour before it would depart, finding an empty compartment to sit was not a problem from the young Potter.
His peace and quiet lasted for maybe half an hour, but then more and more people began boarding the train with more than a few peeking into the compartment and then leaving as they didn't want to share it with a firstie brat like him. The constant opening and closing of the compartment door was quite annoying and Harry, unfortunately, didn't know any spells to deal with that yet. And neither did Emily.
It got even worse when a couple of minutes before the train's departure a red-haired freckled boy with a smudge of dirt on his nose barged into the compartment claiming that everywhere else was full. Whether that was true or not, he could've at least asked if he was welcome there…
"I'm Ron. Ron Weasley." The redhead introduced himself.
"Harry."
"Potter? You're the Harry Potter?" Ron asked, causing the other boy to let out a tired sigh. Harry really hated it when people got all super crazy about him. "Do you have the scar? Can I see it?" The young Weasley continued with his questions.
"Yes, I have the scar and, no, you can't see it." Harry replied, his annoyance at being treated like an exotic animal in a zoo easily audible.
"C'mon, don't be like that, mate." Ron pushed. "Let me see it."
"No." The green-eyed Potter practically hissed in response.
"Don't be all gruff like that, mate." The redhead continued, apparently ignoring some very clear signs that his requests weren't appreciated. "Just let me see the scar."
"Still no."
"Dammit." The boy swore, clearly getting to the end of his own patience. "I see… you're just an arrogant prick who thinks they are better than everyone. You're nothing like a hero they said you are." And with those words he ostentatiously turned away, acting like not being able to talk to him would make Harry deeply regret his supposed misdeed. It didn't.
Some ten minutes later, a blond boy accompanied by two 'bodyguards' came, looking for Harry Potter. He introduced himself arrogantly as Draco Malfoy, heir apparent to the Noble House of Malfoy and was about to make an offer, but an annoyed glare from Harry told him that right now wouldn't be the best time for that. So, with a promise that he'd drop by later, the young Mr. Malfoy left the compartment, leaving Harry to listen to Weasley's muttering about how the blonde was a slimy snake and absolutely, irredeemably evil.
Another disturbance happened about an hour later when a bushy-haired girl came asking whether anyone had seen a pet toad that belonged to someone named Neville. Having received a curt 'no' for an answer, she asked him to try catching the amphibian if it ever showed up and quickly left.
The compartment had been visited several more times throughout the train's journey up north, once by a lady selling wizarding snacks and the rest - by patrolling prefects. Beyond that, however, the ride was rather agreeable if not truly pleasant. Indeed, between his earlier demands to be shown the scar the Dark Lord had supposedly marked him with and his ostensible grievance at being denied, Harry couldn't say that Ronald Weasley was good company.
Emily was in agreement with him on that one. But just so that the two of them don't focus on that too much, she kept talking to her Harry about different things. Including his expectations of Hogwarts and its teachers. She also shared her own guesses of what the school of witchcraft and wizardry was like - her memories did tell her that it occupied a Magical castle, but not much beyond that. Many of their ideas differed wildly, but the one thing they both agreed on was that Professor McGonagall was the one teacher they should never get on the bad side of.
Just as the night began falling, the train finally arrived at its destination - Hogsmeade. Apparently, the only village in Great Britain with one hundred percent Magical population as well as the nearest settlement to Hogwarts castle. On the platform, Harry joined the rest of the first-year students in a shapeless mass around a very large man that introduced himself as Rubeus Hagrid, the gamekeeper of Hogwarts.
Once everyone had gathered, Hagrid began leading them off the platform. He led them past the horseless carriages boarded by the older students and onto a rather narrow passage leading down to a large, dark lake. There, a flotilla of small boats was waiting for them. The demi-giant gamekeeper then told them to get in, no more than four per boat.
Harry ended up sharing a boat with a petite Chinese girl, a tall blond boy with upturned nose and another girl, a brunette who didn't stand out in any notable way. Glancing around, Harry could see that most boats too had four passengers. Hagrid, due to his size, had an entire boat to himself.
As soon as everyone was seated, the gamekeeper commanded the boats to sail off. And they began gliding across the lake, Harry soon got his first glimpse of Hogwarts.
"Woah!" He breathed out. The other three 'firsties' he was sharing the boat with appeared to be in agreement with him. 'This place looks fantastic!' He communicated to Emily while taking in the sight of a majestic castle with hundreds of its windows shining with warm and welcoming lights. Too bad, his friend couldn't see it herself and they still hadn't figured out how to share mental pictures with each other. Instead, he had to describe it to her with words. And by the time he was finished, the boats were already approaching a tunnel leading to a hidden pier under the castle.
There, the first-years were greeted by Professor McGonagall who briefly explained the four Houses of Hogwarts before leading them to an antechamber adjacent to the Great Hall where they were to wait for the Sorting ceremony to begin. A couple of minutes later, Harry and his fellow first years got their first glimpse of ghosts as the spectral beings floated into the room through the wall and, after briefly acknowledging the new students, continued on their way.
Professor McGonagall returned a few minutes later and announced that the Sorting ceremony was about to begin. Then she led everyone to the Great Hall. It was a fascinating place with a myriad of floating candles and an enchanted ceiling showing the skies, and Harry once again was describing everything he saw to Emily in great detail.
Finally, about half an hour into the Sorting ceremony - which required one to put a talking hat on their head and let it decide which House they belonged to - it was finally Harry's turn to get sorted. Doing his best to not show how nervous he was, the green-eyed wizard sat on the stool and put the Sorting Hat on.
'Interesting… Very interesting...' The apparently-sentient Magical artifact spoke in his mind. 'You're quite a unique wizard, Mr. Potter. And that's even without that other soul you're carrying with you.' Harry stiffened, suddenly fearful for Emily. 'Worry not, Mr. Potter. Your secrets are your own and I shall not divulge them to anyone, living or dead.' There was a short pause, before the Sorting Hat continued: 'Now, where to sort you, Mr. Potter?..'
Harry didn't have a strong opinion about any of the four Hogwarts' Houses, though, he supposed, he would rather not end up sharing a dorm with Draco Malfoy and his two goons. There was something about them that put Harry off.
'That's too bad.' The Hat said, having heard his thoughts. 'You have talent, and ambition. You could've done quite well in Salazar's House. But, I suppose, you're right; finding a place among the people there will be a hard battle for you.' After a brief pause, the Hat continued: 'You have not a bad mind, Mr. Potter, but you wouldn't fit well into the crowd of the Raven's tower, so I think it's not the best House for you either.'
'So, it's Gryffindor or Hufflepuff then?' Harry asked the Hat.
'That we shall see…' The Magical artifact replied somewhat cryptically, before going back to trying to determine where to sort him: 'There is quite a bit of courage in you and you know loyalty, even if yours is directed only towards your spirit friend and no one else right now… If it were between Godric's and Helga's Houses, you'd do better in the former. Yes, definitely, Mr. Potter. You better be...' "Gryffindor!" The last word was shouted aloud, causing the table under the red and gold banner to explode into loud cheering.
This reaction was more extreme than anything anyone sorted before him got, and as he took the Sorting Hat off his head and went to join the rest of Gryffindors Harry hoped that his new housemates wouldn't be too nosy and bothersome.
Most of them actually were quite alright and let him be when he didn't show much interest in talking to them. Some, unfortunately, weren't as nice and understanding. Like that annoying redhead from the train - Ronald Weasley - who ended up being sorted into Gryffindor as well. Thankfully that boy couldn't find a seat near him, or Harry feared he wouldn't have been able to eat in relative peace.
He still had to survive seven years of sharing a dorm with him, though...
~/ *** \~
The first couple of weeks were emotionally exhausting for Harry, as he was forced to deal with people trying to force their way into his circle of friends or just gawking at him like he was some rare animal in a zoo. The Potions Professor, who apparently hated his guts and took every opportunity to be mean to him, wasn't helping either.
Afterwards, though, life at Hogwarts fell into some sort of routine and now that his classmates were finally used to sharing classes with him, he was able to get away from the center of everyone's attention. Not completely though, as there still were a few instances where his righteousness made him act like a 'true Gryffindor'.
One such time was during the first Flying lesson when Draco Malfoy decided that rather than returning Neville's remembrall to its rightful owner he'd hide it in a tree. Harry couldn't allow that to happen and did what he could to stop the blonde Slytherin. He wasn't exactly successful as Malfoy took to the air and threw the remembrall away, but he did stall the boy long enough for Madam Hooch to return. And the witch - once she finished dealing with the misbehaving Malfoy scion - easily summoned the remembrall back from wherever it had landed.
Another happened on Halloween morning during the Charms class when Harry's troublesome housemate - one Ronald Weasley - got offended by an offer of help from Hermione Granger. Harry wasn't what exactly had happened between the two, but he definitely saw Ms. Granger running away in tears. Now, the young Potter might not particularly like the girl himself - she was a bit too much of a teachers' pet for his tastes, and seemed to flaunt the fact she was reading well ahead of the class - but Weasley's behavior towards her was not acceptable and Harry was quick to explain that to the red-haired idiot, and in not very polite words.
And speaking of Halloween, the Charms class incident was not the only thing to happen that day. Later, during the feast, Professor Quirrell burst into the Great Hall, announced that a troll managed to find its way into the dungeons, and then passed out. Chaos ensued. Eventually, the staff and the prefects managed to impose some sort of order back onto the students, and as Houses began evacuating to their common rooms, Harry noticed that he couldn't see Hermione among the other first-years. Sure, she might have been among the older Gryffindors, but the young Potter still informed the prefect about this.
Later that night, Professor McGonagall personally escorted very shaken Ms. Granger to the Gryffindor common room. No one knew what exactly had happened to the girl and she wasn't giving any details herself - and questioning about the events of the night was strictly forbidden by their Head of the House. One brave fool, of course, decided that he could get away with a little interrogation of Ms. Granger. He was now serving a month of detentions with Mr. Filch. No one was brave enough to ask Ms. Granger about what had happened to her afterwards.
The next morning, rumor began floating around the castle that the troll had been a distraction that someone had used to try to sneak into the forbidden corridor. And Professor Snape was conspicuously limping on his left leg - something that could very well be a result of getting bitten by a large animal. Like, for example, the huge three-headed dog that supposedly was behind a locked door at the end of the forbidden corridor.
Normally Harry wouldn't have cared much about that, and Emily was telling him that getting involved in this mess would likely be a bad idea, but he was still curious as to why someone decided to keep a damn Cerberus in the middle of a school. He wasn't very successful and the only thing that he managed to learn that the beast was guarding something - apparently, the room it was in had a trapdoor leading somewhere. And it was somehow related to a failed attempt at bank robbery at Gringotts that happened a couple of days after his visit to Diagon Alley.
The next couple of months passed without anything really noteworthy happening in Harry's life. Then Christmas came and, much to the young wizard's surprise, there were several gifts waiting for him under the Christmas tree in Gryffindor common room.
And the most notable of those gifts came wrapped in simple brown paper. Well, according to the note, it wasn't even a real gift - just someone who didn't want to reveal themselves returning a very valuable item they had borrowed from his father shortly before he was killed by the Dark Lord ten years ago. Unwrapping the parcel, Harry saw a neatly folded flowing silvery cloth. Not really knowing what it was, he tried it on and immediately noticed that it made his body disappear from sight. He had been given an invisibility cloak!
Upon realizing that, the young Potter quickly hid the cloak in the deepest part of his trunk: invisibility cloaks were rare and very valuable and he didn't want this one stolen from him.
After a few days, though, Harry's desire to explore the night castle grew too strong for him to ignore and, having retrieved the invisibility cloak from his trunk, he went on wandering around Hogwarts.
And on the second night of such wandering, he came across an abandoned classroom that had a large ornate mirror standing in its middle. Curious, Harry approached the mirror, barely noticing a gibberish text etched into its wooden frame, and peered into it.
The mirror wasn't showing him a reflection. Instead, he could see an older version of himself, one in late teens, holding hands with a pretty girl of about the same age. And while he was pretty sure he hadn't met a girl like this before, she still felt quite familiar to him. Almost like he had known her for years. She had long black hair, pale skin and her eyes were almost like a pair of rubies. Behind them, there stood a pair of adults that likely were his parents - Harry hadn't seen any photos of them, but these two looked almost exactly like he had heard others describe them.
"Woah!" He couldn't help but exclaim. As continued to stare at the image the mirror was showing him, a sudden realization dawned upon him. 'Hey, Emily, I don't think I've ever asked you, but what do you look like?' He asked his friend.
'I… don't know actually.' The girl in his head replied. 'I don't remember that from before I ...woke up inside you, and right now I don't even have a body to look at.'
'I think this mirror might be showing you, right there standing next to myself.' Harry told her, leaving the fact that he could also see his parents unsaid for the moment.
'Oh.' Emily replied. She fell quiet for a few seconds before speaking again: 'So… What do I look like, Harry?' The green-eyed wizard eagerly described what he was seeing in the magical mirror. 'You make it sound like I'm really pretty.' She observed.
'Because you are.' He replied.
The next time Harry came there, he was caught looking into the mirror by the Headmaster. Surprisingly, the man didn't deduct any points for being out of the bed after the curfew, nor did he assign him any detentions. Instead, the elderly wizard simply asked him what he was seeing in the mirror, before unveiling the true nature of the artifact - apparently, this was the Mirror of Erised and it showed the deepest, most desperate desire of one's heart.
Then, Dumbledore informed him that the mirror will soon be moved to a different location and asked Harry not to go looking for it again. And, indeed, when the young wizard came to this classroom again the next night, the mirror was gone.
~/ *** \~
As classes resumed for the spring semester, life quickly fell back into routine and for quite some time nothing too extraordinary happened at Hogwarts. Then, one day early in March, Hagrid's hut mysteriously burned down. The gamekeeper was surprisingly tight-lipped about it all and thus the rumor mill was working twice as hard to determine what exactly had happened. And the ideas being tossed around were all kinds of weird, including a really crazy one where the fire had been caused by a pet dragon - which was now being hidden in the Forbidden Forest - the half-giant had gotten from somewhere.
Still, even such a fiery event couldn't hold people's attention for very long and soon enough the Hogwarts' rumors mill found something else to talk about.
The rest of March and April passed quite peacefully with Quidditch being the hottest topic whenever a game was played. Harry, however, was rather indifferent to the game so he didn't care much about it. Sure, he came to every match to support the Gryffindor team, but he certainly couldn't muster the passion some of his housemates had for the game.
Then May came and with it came the realization that the end-of-the-year exams were just a few weeks away. Some people were confident they could pass regardless, while others didn't seem to care about those tests, but the majority of Hogwarts' population was now devoting a lot of their time to studying. Harry belonged to that latter group too. While he wasn't failing any of the classes, he wasn't acing any either. But he knew that he could do better, and with no Dudley to stay below in the rankings, he had no reason to underachieve.
Thus, the green-eyed wizard was spending a lot of time with his nose in a book as he did his best to prepare for the exams. Usually, he secluded himself to a far corner of the Gryffindor common room, but if the weather was exceptionally nice, he went to read outdoors.
Today was one such day, and having found a nice and quiet spot not too far away from the viaduct, Harry dove into his Potions textbook. He didn't get too much reading though, as maybe an hour later he was approached by Professor Quirrell - which was quite surprising as the turban-wearing wizard was rarely seen outdoors. But before he could ask the man what he wanted, there was a flash or red and his world went dark.
When Harry finally regained consciousness, he found himself blindfolded and tied to a rather-uncomfortable chair in some room. At least, he thought so - he couldn't feel wind or anything else one might feel while outdoors.
"Welcome back to the world of living, Mr. Potter." He heard the DADA Professor say, for once not stuttering at all. "I'm sure you're wondering what is going on." Harry certainly did, but he wouldn't tell the man that. Not that Quirrell was expecting an answer from him anyway. "You see, that old fool Dumbledore decided to hide an item my Master really wants inside this very castle. Have you ever heard about the Philosopher's Stone? That's what my Master is after. It's right here, hidden somehow in this very room, and you, Mr. Potter, will tell me how to get it." With that, the blindfold was removed and Harry found himself looking into the Mirror of Erised. "Do you see how I can get the Stone out of this darn mirror, Potter?"
Harry, however, couldn't see anything that might be the Philosopher's Stone in the mirror. Instead, it was showing him the same image of him and Emily with his parents standing behind them. His continued silence, however, was annoying Professor Quirrell.
"I asked you if you can see how to get the Stone out of the mirror, boy!" The man demanded while hitting Harry with some curse that made him feel like hundreds of sizzling-hot knives were digging into his skin. Thankfully, it lasted only for a few seconds. "Answer me!"
"I…" Even after such a brief exposure to the curse, talking coherently was a bit of a challenge. "I don't… see anything." Harry replied honestly. This answer only earned him several more seconds of Magical torture.
"Try again." Professor Quirrell told him. The mirror was still showing Harry the same image with no signs of the Philosopher's Stone anywhere. And telling his kidnapper that only earned him another round of torture. "My patience is wearing thin, Potter. Tell me how to get the Stone or I will make you wish you had died together with your worthless parents that night."
Harry peered into the Mirror of Erised in hopes of finding some escape from this nightmare there. Alas, it didn't look like the mirror wanted to cooperate and continued to show him that same image of him, Emily and his parents… Unbidden, a thought of whether things would be different if Emily had a real body entered his mind.
A moment later, he saw the red-eyed girl give him a conspiratorial smile. Then she reached into a pocket of her robe and withdrew a fist-sized dark-red gem from it. Then she tossed it towards him lightly. And as soon as the stone broke through the surface of the mirror, hell broke loose.
Professor Quirrell saw the stone appearing and immediately dove towards it in an attempt to seize it for his Master. He, however, was overtaken by a bluish-white mist that began flowing out of Harry's head. And the instant this ghostly mist came in contact with the Philosopher's Stone, it exploded into fine dust.
The Stone then mixed with the mist evenly before coalescing into a cloud shaped roughly like a curled-up human body. A moment later, this cloud started growing more opaque until it became a crystalline chrysalis.
For about fifteen seconds nothing really noticeable happened - even Professor Quirrell was too stunned by all this to act - then the chrysalis cracked and finally shattered, revealing a pale-skinned, dark-haired and quite nude girl. And while she looked a few years younger than she was in the images Mirror of Erised had shown him, Harry was absolutely sure that this girl was Emily. The fact that he could no longer talk to her in his head only confirmed that.
"You, bitch!.." The traitorous DADA Professor wasn't as happy to see her. "How dare you steal what rightfully belongs to my Master?!" He yelled before throwing a sick-purple curse at her. Emily, however, easily batted it away with a Magical shield composed of orangish-red energy that appeared in front of her.
"You hurt my Harry." She hissed, her red eyed glowing with rage and power as she glared at the man. "I'm going to end you." The next thing Harry knew, Professor Quirrell was thrown across the dungeon and hit the wall hard enough to crack his skull. He then collapsed on the floor like a sack of potatoes and didn't move again. Instead, black smoke began pouring out of his head, quickly forming a dark cloud in the shape of a human head.
Whatever that thing was, it let out an inhuman cry before launching itself at Emily, evidently trying to take her over as a new host. It failed as once again an orangish Magical shield sprang into existence to protect the girl. The wraith made another attempt to attack Emily, but once that failed, it decided to cut its losses.
"You may have won today, girl." It spoke. "But you've only delayed the inevitable. I will soon rise again, stronger than ever, and those who had defied me will meet the end they deserve at the end of my wand." And with that it flew away, slipping through the walls much like a ghost would.
Emily remained standing vigilant for another half a minute in case the wraith decided to return. When it didn't, she walked up to Harry and with a single wave of her hand undid the chains that kept him tied to the chair.
"Harry, I…" Unable to come up with words to express herself, she pulled him up against herself and planted a deep, longing kiss on his lips.
That was the moment Dumbledore chose to barge into whichever dungeon they were in.
~/ *** \~
"If I didn't see this with my own two eyes, I would've never believed the tale you told me, Albus." A french wizard that appeared to be in his mid-forties said as he and Dumbledore stood inside Hogwarts' Hospital wing. In front of them, two hospital beds were pushed together with Harry and the mysterious girl who had been introduced as 'Emily' sleeping atop of them. The said girl was now, thankfully, fully dressed but still refused to let go of the young Potter scion and kept clinging to him even despite Madam Pomfrey's attempts to separate them. "The decoy stone I lent simply shouldn't have been able to power Magic needed to create someone a new body."
"Decoy?" The Hogwarts Headmaster couldn't help but ask in surprise.
"C'mon, Albus, do you really think I've managed to live for over six centuries by being a naive fool?" Nicolas Flamel asked his once-apprentice back. "And, by the way, I'm still angry that you used it as a bait for your Dark Lord inside a school full of children." Dumbledore had no reply for that. "Anyhow, this little mademoiselle is quite a miracle." The Alchemist continued, his eyes once again focused on 'Emily'.
"You mean, beyond getting a body from your stone - the decoy one?" The younger of the two wizards asked.
"Indeed, though I might have an idea how it still happened." Nicolas replied. "You said, you found these two in the same room with the Mirror of Erised? Perhaps, the Magics of that mirror, combined with a wish of two souls allowed the fake stone to transcend into being something of an equal to the true one?" There was a rather long pause, before he spoke again: "Anyhow, as far as I can tell, this girl's soul was born out of two distinct fragments that have somehow fused together in a new whole. I don't think anything like this has happened in the recorded history."
"Two soul fragments?.." Dumbledore repeated. "Do you think she might be an anchor for him?" He asked then, obviously referring to Great Britain's latest Dark Lord.
"If one of those soul fragments ever was a horcrux, it certainly no longer is one." Lord Flamel calmed his once-student down. "For all intents and purposes, this little mademoiselle is her own being, with no ties to whoever had provided the soul fragments she was first born from."
"So… What do I do with her?" The Hogwarts Headmaster asked. He was still feeling a little out of his depth with this whole children-appearing-out-of-nothing situation.
"Well, seeing how she might as well be my and Perenelle's daughter, I'm going to adopt her. She can be 'Emily Potter' like she wanted to when she and the boy are old enough to marry." The Alchemist said. "Of course, she will be spending the summer with me in France. And seeing how she clung to the boy, even against the wishes of your Matron, I dare say Mr. Potter will be coming to my chateau as well."
Dumbledore clearly didn't like that, but knowing that nothing he can say would change the mind of Nicolas Flamel, he remained silent.
