Update on Why I am Not Updating:
Writing takes a lot more time, effort, and patience than many people who are solely readers will ever comprehend. Every author is making a choice to take time out of their lives to sit down and work on creating a work that could be interesting to a few people. Most readers have zero qualms with writing extremely negative (this is different from constructive criticism; something that I am more than okay with) and oftentimes, downright cruel reviews. This site in particular is the worst. I deleted almost every story I have ever posted because of the hate and negativity that was being thrown at me on an almost daily basis. It may seem to many like I should just make myself not care. If you truly think that, you do not understand human emotion. It doesn't matter how much I or any writer wants to stop caring about negative reviews, it will never happen.
This is why I am sorry to announce that I am taking a break from writing the novels that are published on this account. I have taken to writing shorter stories and publishing them on AO3, as, somehow, that website is filled with far kinder readers. I write these works for myself, and yet it doesn't at all hurt when I receive a few kind words on other sites, rather than the many cruel ones I get here.
I want to say one last thing, if you are a reader and you dislike one of my works, that is totally fine. I understand. I dislike some of them myself. However, you are afforded the option of merely clicking the back button and then continuing on your day. I am not given that chance. Why do so many people see it as necessary to take (no matter how little) time to trash an author's work? The world is a cruel place and is only becoming more so with every passing day. I have a life and I refuse to have it ruined by negativity and hate. As readers, you can make the same choice.
Blood Flower
"The loneliest moment in someone's life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly."
-F. Scott Fitzgerald
Chapter One
It does not make sense! Harry Potter mutters to himself from a spot beneath his blankets, his eyes trailing over a letter from his godfather, the only family he has ever felt a connection to. How could Dumbledore have been unaware of Sirius' innocence? Not only did the man know him, but he had likely watched Sirius grow up alongside my father and mother. It should have been clear to him that Sirius could never betray them!
Harry sighs, running a hand through his unruly black-as-night curls. Frustration is not an emotion Harry is used to feeling in such a quantity as he is now. For the first eleven years of his life, he was forced to compartmentalize every negative thing that was said and done to him.
I just do not understand. How could Dumbledore not have known? He is considered the smartest and most powerful wizard since Merlin himself and yet he could not tell who betrayed my parents!?
Harry shakes his head, back beginning to ache from holding himself at such an odd and unusual position. He lies back, resting his head on his pillow and placing the letter on the nightstand.
His eyes hurt slightly after the long night. Harry spent hours studying and then read his godfather's letter over and over.
He continues to twirl his wand between his fingers, looking up at the ceiling of his room. Maybe he truthfully fell for the act that Pettigrew created. It was quite convincing, I'll give the rat that. And yet, I feel like there is more that I am not seeing…
His thoughts trail off and he places his wand on the wooden nightstand next to the letter, removing his glasses a moment later.
He places his hands behind his head and looks up at the ceiling. He allows his eyelids to flutter closed, his mind still racing.
Harry places the letter down on his desk, a small smile appearing on his face. The Quidditch World Cup.
Harry has never had the opportunity to attend such an event, having not had the knowledge nor the resources to make it to any sort of major game. To have the Weasleys include him in what is likely an already extremely tight budget merely so he can get out of the house for a bit causes a joyous smile to appear on his face. It is a new thing for him to have people that genuinely want to make him happy. He would gladly pay for his own ticket but knowing the Weasleys, they will likely insist to pay for him even if he has more Galleons in his trust fund than the Weasley family has had in generations combined.
He reads the last lines of the letter again.
If you are agreeable, Dumbledore has acquiesced to my mother in an argument to allow you to attend the World Cup with us. He says you must go back after the game, though. Something about it being imperative to keep you safe.
The date will be August 18th and I will be by to pick you up myself on the way to the portkey.
Send your response back with the owl.
I look forward to making your acquaintance!
Charlie Weasley
Harry quickly inks up a firm acceptance of the offer, gently handing the letter to a waiting Hedwig where she sits on the edge of his open window. "This goes to Charlie Weasly, girl. Good luck." He gently rubs the underside of her beak for a moment before the beautiful snowy owl launches herself into the air.
Harry turns and walks to the door of his room, opening it a moment later. A smile appears on his face as he walks down the stairs to inform his uncle and aunt of the development.
When August eighteenth finally arrives, Harry wakes up at the crack of dawn to prepare for Charlie's arrival, eager to meet the second eldest, dragon-wrangling Weasley child.
He hears a crack outside of Privet Drive and quickly walks to the door, stepping outside and looking out into the cloudy day.
A tall man with long red curls walks toward him, dressed entirely in some kind of scaly black cloak. "And you must be Harry. It is nice to finally meet you."
Harry smiles and nods, accepting a handshake from the man. "You too."
"Have you apparated before?" Charlie asks. Harry shakes his head. Charlie nods, "Alright. I am going to be honest, it isn't pleasant. If you are ready, I will place a hand on your shoulder. Are you ready?" Harry nods and Charlie places a hand on his shoulder. Harry feels as though he is being squeezed through a tiny tube as the air around him contacts.
The feeling vanishes a moment later when they reappear in a beautiful forest beneath a tall tree. A boy dressed in Hufflepuff colors jumps down from the tree. "Heya, Harry."
Harry hesitates and the boy notices, "The name's Cedric. I'm in Hufflepuff two years ahead of you."
Harry nods and smiles, "It is nice to meet you, Cedric."
The sound of loud chatter fills his ears and he turns. The entire Weasley family bustles toward them, all wearing either Ireland or Bulgaria colors. Harry doesn't know much about professional Quidditch, other than a handful of the best players.
Royston Idlewind, Maximus Brankovitch, and, more recently, Victor Krum. Harry had heard about the young seeker from Ron many times and was curious to see how the man played.
"Alright, everyone!" Mister Weasley calls. "Gather round."
Everyone walks over to a small black boot. "Place your hand on it," Cedric whispers to Harry.
Harry nods his thanks and follows Cedric's suggestion. A moment later, he feels as though his arm is getting ripped off of his body and then he is falling from high up. He decelerates himself by wishing himself to slow and rights himself, landing on his feet a little jarringly.
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all land more roughly than he, none of them able to right themselves. "First time using a portkey?" Cedric asks him.
Harry nods. "I am impressed. It is not easy to learn to right one's self while free falling. Especially on your first attempt."
Harry smiles again, "Thanks, Cedric."
The boy nods, "No problem. See you later, Harry."
"How did you do it?" Ron asks grumpily as he walks over to him.
"Do what? Land on my feet?"
"Yes."
Harry grins, "Beginner's luck?"
Ron grumbles something under his breath before sighing. "I have used a portkey hundred times and I still cannot get myself to land on my feet."
Harry pats his friend on the back sympathetically, "I am sure you will get it one day."
He watches as Hermione walks side by side with Ginny, smiling slightly. At least Ginny doesn't seem to be reacting as strongly to me anymore.
The view from their seats at the top of the stadium is incredible. Hundreds of thousands of wizards are packed into the stadium, lining it from top to bottom. Fireworks burst in the air overhead, some of them green and silver and some of them red and yellow.
On the field, Harry can make out a group of scantly dressed cheerleaders dancing, their pale skin seeming to glow in the light of the fireworks and the thousands of camera flashes.
"Those are Veela, Harry," Hermione states, drawing his attention. "They possess an aura about them that makes them nearly impossible to ignore."
Harry cocks his head, "What do you mean?"
Instead of answering, his friend just points at Ron. His redheaded mate has a trail of drool dribbling out one corner of his mouth and his eyes are glazed as he looks down at the women through a pair of omninoculars.
Harry frowns, "Then why am I not affected?"
Hermione shrugs, "Beats me. I haven't exactly researched the Veela."
Harry nods in understanding. They are silent for a moment before the crowd around them bursts to life. Harry turns his attention to the field, watching as both national teams get introduced. He takes out his own pair of omninoculars, zooming in on Victor Krum. The man looks far younger than Harry expected; he can't be more than five years older than Harry himself, but he rides the broom with more confidence than Harry has ever seen before.
The match is incredible to watch and Harry cannot help the amazement he feels at the skill with which every player flies. When compared to most players at Hogwarts, Harry knows that he is better, but these players make him look like an amateur.
"Why did he catch it?" Ron complains as the Weasleys, Hermione, and Harry walk through the campsite back to their tent. Cedric and his father had left to go to their own tent and then attended the game at different seats. "I wanted Bulgaria to win, not them to lose because their own seeker caught the snitch too soon."
Harry sighs, "He did the right thing, Ron. He knew his team wasn't going to win so he decided to just end it on his terms. I would have done the same thing."
Ron shakes his head, "But the game wasn't over yet and Ireland's seeker got injured on that last play. He could have let the snitch go and given his team a shot to still win."
Harry sighs, "Ron, think about this logically. He knew his team was being overpowered by the chasers and beaters, not to mention a large differential in skill between the goalkeepers, and he wanted to end the game in a way he could control. As I said, I would have done the same thing in a heartbeat."
Ron sighs, pausing and stepping to one side as a group of fans dressed in Ireland's green colors rush by them. They enter the magically-enhanced tent and begin to settle down for the night.
"Get up! Now!" Arthur Weasley demands, his voice filling the tent. "Move!"
Harry is on his feet in moments, placing his glasses on and picking up his wand. "What is it?" Charlie asks, coming down from his room.
Arthur doesn't answer, "Get back to the portkey! Go!"
Harry exits the tent quickly, eyes immediately finding fires beginning to eat up the campsite, tent by tent. Screams of terror fill the air and Harry sees a group of figures wearing pointed hoods and carrying torches. Light catches a reflection of a faceless silver mask. Death Eaters.
He finds himself racing through ruined tents in an attempt to reach the portkey, wondering why apparation isn't an option. It seems like it would be a sure way to safely get to safety.
Screams of horror fill the air and Harry is unable to stop a cry of shock when he sees a figure flung backward by a get of red energy.
It is then that Harry notices that he is alone, the Weasleys and Hermione nowhere in sight. He spins around in a circle, trying to gauge where he is. He catches a brief glimpse of movement in his peripheral vision but is too late to react. He is knocked off his feet by a jet of red light.
Harry collapses to the ground unconscious, unable to protect himself as the cloaked figure approaches. But even unconscious, Harry is not unprotected. The figure reaches out with one hand to attempt and touch Harry's forehead where the scar resides, but the moment the gloved finger makes contact with Harry, he lets out a pained scream.
He collapses to the ground next to Harry, convulsing and trying to draw in air. But he can do nothing. He continues to choke, movements becoming more frantic and erratic. His chest bursts just below his ribcage, blood streaming out onto the ground. Rather than sinking into the ground, the blood travels up, wrapping itself around the man's throat in a liquid form of a noose. The man begins to panic, mask falling off his face to reveal dark brown curls. Acting on its own, the blood enters his nose and mouth, cutting off all airflow to the man's lungs. Finally, his movements stop, body falling limp. The man is dead, choked to death by his own blood.
That is how Harry is found minutes later; collapsed against a tent with a dead body lying right next to him. The sound of voices rouses Harry from his unconscious state and he slowly blinks his eyes open. They immediately find the famed mark of Voldemort and his Death Eaters where it floats in the sky, a skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth.
He slowly rolls over onto his side, eyes finding the corpse next to him. He scrambles back, just as a group of men with wands at the ready appear. Before Harry can say anything to the country, the men fire a barrage of spells toward him. He ducks, not knowing any other way to counteract the attack.
Arthur rushes to stand in front of the men a moment later, holding up his arms, "Stop!"
A man who appears to be in charge steps forward, "You have been discovered at the scene of a crime. What do you have to say for yourself?" He asks Harry.
Harry shakes his head, "You think I did this?"
"Why are you alone?" The man demands.
"He's with me, Barty. And you cannot possibly think that he did this? This is Harry Potter." Arthur responds for him.
'Barty' looks surprised to learn his identity and gestures with one hand to one of the wand-wielding men. "Check the body."
Arthur turns to Harry, "What happened?"
Harry shakes his head, "I do not know. I was hit with a spell and knocked unconscious. I remember nothing after that."
Arthur sighs but nods, "Let's get you home. I am sorry, Harry. This is not how I imagined your first World Cup going."
Harry just smiles softly, "You have nothing to apologize for. I am very grateful that you are your family thought to include me in this adventure."
A sad smile appears on Arthur's face, "You sound like your mother."
Harry's eyes widen at the mention of his mother but Arthur does not say another word. "Come on. Let's go. The portkey awaits."
Returning to his family is the exact opposite of what he wants to do but he allows Charlie to apparate him back to Privet Drive without complaining otherwise. He thanks the redhead and enters the house quietly, going up to his room.
He closes the door and takes out his wand, and opening his Charms textbook. He flips to where his bookmark is and continues reading, attempting to learn every spell he can before departing for the school.
Harry promised himself that he would never allow himself to be woefully unprepared for school again. He isn't one that likes having to rely on someone else. For his whole childhood, the only person he could trust was himself. It was nice for the first few years of school to be able to rely on someone else but it isn't a good idea as he knows he will fall further and further behind.
Besides, Harry could tell from the moment that the classes began to require magical prowess that Hermione was at a disadvantage. It was quite clear relatively quickly that she lacked the magical power that he has. That doesn't mean she still wasn't better than him. Because of Harry's lack of effort, Hermione would usually still effortlessly out-spell him, no matter what.
And Ron, well, the boy cares far less than Harry about school and Harry can tell that if it wasn't for his parents forcing him to go, Ron wouldn't even be at the school.
A sigh leaves his lips as he returns his focus to the Transfiguration textbook. Harry had sent a letter to McGonagall days after summer began and asked her to send him the list of books he would need for the coming semester. He wanted to prepare.
He smiles slightly as he recalls the surprised tone that was clear in his professor's writing as she provided him with the list.
He had then convinced his uncle to take him to Diagon Alley in exchange for Harry giving him some money. The moment his uncle learned that there was more money where it came from, Harry had been able to bribe him into more things that normally his uncle wouldn't even consider.
So while he was at Diagon Alley, he had bought every book McGonagall said he would need and many others she never mentioned. He bought books for fifth, sixth, and seventh year Hogwarts students for every class, and since the moment summer began, he spent almost all day every day locked in his room with a book in hand.
He wondered what Ron would think if he knew what Harry now used every moment of his free time to do. It would likely horrify him. Hermione would likely be very proud of him.
Along with beginning to extensively research and study for every subject he has, Harry quickly realized that his memory was better than he thought it should be. He could take one long look at a piece of paper and memorize nearly every word written on it.
He was able to convince his aunt to let him borrow a dictionary and learned that he has what is called eidetic memory, meaning that he has a heightened ability to recall what he sees at a much higher rate of precision. This discovery made Harry greatly regret the negligence of his work for the first three years of his education.
Instead of being able to immediately play to move ahead of everyone else, he had to first play catchup so he could understand more. He was unable to cast any magic outside of school other than the traditional spells such as lumos. This greatly annoys him as it further indicates the disadvantage he has to students who live in the magical world. He can recall seeing both of the Weasley twins casting spells outside of Hogwarts before they were old enough for the trace to be removed and he had little doubt that Malfoy could do whatever he wanted because of who his father is.
So instead of working on perfecting his spell casting, he spent the entire summer reading many different books about the theory of magic. He quickly concluded that magic acted like a muscle, so the more you use it, the stronger your magical core grows. Harry was also able to connect the dots between purebloods and increased magical potential.
He realized that it wasn't that the purebloods started with more power, it was that they used it more often and had more time to spend using magic. Because of this, their magical cores were stronger by the time they reached Hogwarts than any muggle-born or muggle-raised student could ever hope to be.
This was a surprising discovery to him and it made him wish more than ever that he didn't live somewhere where he would be expelled for using magic. Harry began to wonder about Dumbledore's logic for sending him somewhere where he not only could not grow stronger, but he also was hammered with mental and physical abuse for most of his life. It didn't make sense to him that Dumbledore could have been unaware of either of those problems.
While dealing with these thoughts, he was still able to greatly progress his understanding of magic as a whole and it made him much more confident in his own capabilities.
Along with reading more about magic, he spent a great deal of time reading about Wizarding Law. He was able to find a book in an antique store in Diagon Alley about the Hogwarts Charter, a set of rules and guidelines that had existed since the school's creation.
Harry quickly realized just how many rules he, Ron, and Hermione had broken in only their first three years at the school. It made him realize just how lucky he was that Dumbledore was Headmaster as many of the rules they had broken would warrant expulsion. But once rule stood out to him and left him confused and angry.
Section 7(Situational Powers Given to Headmaster), Part J (Loss of Legal Guardians) - In the occurrence of a magical child losing his/her parents and all others who are named possible guardians, they shall be placed in the guardianship of the current Headmaster of Hogwarts until they reach the age of 17 when they will become emancipated. (Void if the Will of the deceased guardians presented alternatives)
It was at that moment that Harry wondered about his parent's will and why he had never seen it. It made little sense. In all likelihood, Harry's parents had left a will as they had been fighting in a war. They knew their lives were at risk. And yet, he had never been told about its contents, or even of its existence.
This wasn't the only thing that confused him. According to a recent version of the Ministry's official Book of Magical Law, it was entirely against the jurisdiction of Gringotts to withhold the will of any deceased from their immediate family, no matter their age. It was stated within the agreement between the Ministry and Gringotts that wills are considered prioritized documents and must be shared with immediate family members upon their first arrival at the bank following the deaths of the will's writers.
That means that the day Harry went to the bank for the first time with Hagrid, he should have been shown the will. It shouldn't have even been a question of if he wanted to see it, he was required to.
Harry also quickly realized that Dumbledore likely was well aware of every time he left Privet Drive and he began to notice hooded figures trailing after him during every walk he took out of the house. Originally, he was nervous to see unknown figures following him but he caught a glimpse of red hair and realized that one of the Weasleys must have been tasked with following him.
Because of his hesitation to fully place his trust in Dumbledore at the lack of a will-hearing, he decided that he wouldn't make a special trip to Diagon Alley to go to Gringotts. Over winter break, he would travel to Diagon Alley to get new school supplies and would pretend to need more money. He was certain that Dumbledore did not intentionally keep him from his part's will, likely just forgetting about it, but it didn't make sense that the goblins didn't share it with him upon his arrival.
The amount of reading he did made the summer pass by relatively quickly and Harry was immensely grateful for that. It felt good to know that he now had a way to enjoy his summers.
When September 1st finally arrives, Harry pays his uncle a few pounds to take him to the station and packs all of his books into his trunk. He spent some time to make sure everything he will need is in the trunk and ends up needing to use some time to learn the extension spell. He expanded the trunk beyond its physical restrictions, a spell that took him over a week to learn.
He thanks his aunt and uncle for their 'hospitality' before his departure and then shrinks his trunk so his uncle won't get annoyed with him for stuffing a large amount of stuff into his car. Harry no longer ever keeps Hedwig within the cage, knowing that she would prefer to fly around in the sky. He doesn't blame her, he misses flying on his broom more than almost anything.
A small smile appears on his face as his uncle backs the car out of the driveway of 4 Privet Drive. I am going home.
Not a word is spoken as Harry exits his uncle's car, as if an unspoken agreement was made to ignore the existence of the other. Harry does not mind and is grateful for the lack of words he receives.
He walks toward the platform, his trunk already shrunken down and stored carefully in his right pocket. He looks up, smiling when he sees Hedwig loop lazily around in the sky. The beautiful bird lets out a soft cry when she senses him looking at her and Harry smiles even more brightly.
"Oi, Harry!" He is drawn from his thoughts by the loud voice of his friend from mere meters away. "How was the end of your summer, mate?"
Harry turns to face the redhead, "It was fine." He responds untruthfully. "How about yours?"
The redhead smiles, quickly launching into a recount of his entire summer. Harry allows himself to zone out, nodding along as his friend discusses different Quidditch matches he listened to.
"So what do you think, mate?" Ron's question startles Harry as he turns to face the redhead.
"Sorry, Ron. What did you ask?"
Ron frowns, "Honestly, what is up with you, mate? You sure you are okay?"
Harry nods, "I'm fine. What was your question?"
Ron repeats himself, "What did you think of the World Cup? Can you believe those Death Eaters showed up?"
The short answer is yes. Out loud, Harry nods, "It was crazy."
Ron nods, "It really was."
Silence falls over the two of them as they walk quickly to the brick wall in between platforms nine and ten. "Where are Ginny and the twins?"
Ron looks at Harry curiously, "On the train already, why?"
Harry shakes his head, "No reason. I was just wondering."
Ron nods, obviously not caring enough to question Harry further. The two board the train and Harry places a hand on Ron's shoulder, "Find a compartment, Ron. I'll find you in a bit."
Ron cocks his head, "Where are you going?"
"I need a moment to think," Harry responds immediately, turning and stepping out of the train and back onto the waiting cement.
As he walks toward the end of the platform, he looks up to the sky. A warm breeze brushes gently against his pale skin, a slow smile appearing on his face at the gentle contact. As he reaches the end of the platform, Harry notices a small, brown-haired girl looking around herself in confusion. He does not hesitate and walks directly over to her. "Excuse me. Are you lost?"
The girl turns to face him and Harry gasps, staggering backward a few steps. Her face is night and day. One half of the girl's face is a clear, pale white, but the other half is burnt to a black crisp. The eye on that side of her head is gone, giving Harry a clear view directly into her skull. Her remaining eye glows a horrifying green, not unlike his own but filled with far more fury and anger. Harry looks around himself frantically, wondering how no one else notices her.
It is then that a cold shiver runs down his spine. He is alone. No one is on the platform anymore, not even a single adult. He hears the sound of rushing liquid and looks where he hears it.
Where the train once stood now flows a river of red liquid. It sloshes up onto the cement platform, dying the white to red. The smell of blood fills the air, tainting everything it touches.
Harry turns back to look at where the little girl stood and this time, he is unable to stop a choked scream that leaves his throat. Where the somewhat-human girl once stood, there is now nothing more than a skeleton with a glowing green eye.
A rasping, hissing voice echos across the now-empty platform. "Harry Potter."
A bolt of lightning comes down from the sky, striking the skeleton and setting it ablaze with blue fire. Harry places his hands above his eyes to shield them from the bright flames in the dark environment. The flame suddenly shifts in color, becoming a dark red.
Harry closes his eye, wishing for it all to go away. The thrill of fear flowing down his spine is like nothing he has ever felt. Not even when he fought Professor Quirrell in first year or the Basilisk and Tom Riddle in second. Not even when he fought off hundreds of Dementors to save Sirius.
Harry slowly forces himself to open his eyes, gagging when he sees the skeleton looking directly at him. The only part of the girl's body that is not burning is her green eye and it continues to stare directly at him. "Harry Potter."
A frigid breeze accompanies the voice, causing Harry to shiver. "Wh-what are you?" He asks.
A laugh echoes across the platform, filled with so much malice that Harry flinches from the mere sound. "Harry Potter."
"What do yo-you want?" He demands, mustering the courage to speak again.
"Harry Potter."
"Are you Voldemort?" He asks.
The feeling of the air grows colder around him, the pressure against his body increasing. Harry is forced down onto his knees, panting with pain at the seemingly increased gravity. "Do not compare us to Tom Riddle."
"Us?" Harry mutters from his spot on his knees. "Who are you?"
The same laugh echoes across the platform again but he gets no response. The blood from the red river rises up, rushing toward him in a putrid wall of oozing liquid. It slams into him, knocking him onto his back and forcing the air out of his lungs. "Soon enough."
He chokes on the red liquid as it floods into his mouth and up his nose. The scent is worse than anything he has ever smelled in his life as it flows into his body and vanishes.
A moment later, a cool breeze blows through the station and Harry looks around. To his surprise, he sees the train is back in front of him once more, a whistle signaling its departure.
Harry breathes heavily, his heart still hammering in his chest. He runs his hands down his chest before reaching up and gently touching his face. He pulls back his hand and looks at it. There is no red liquid anywhere on his body. I have gone mad…
He is drawn out of his thoughts by the train lurching into motion. Harry acts quickly, leaping forward to board the train as it begins to move. His body is slammed into the wall behind the stairs as the train lurches forward. His breaths leave his mouth in gasps as his eyes dart around himself once more. "What the bloody hell was that?" He whispers to himself.
"Talking to ourselves now, are we Potter?" A distinctive drawl fills Harry's ears. "Had a nightmare did we?"
Harry looks up, his green eyes meeting the amusement-filled grey ones of the Malfoy heir. Harry rises to his feet quickly, unable to stop his hands from shaking with fear and shock at what he saw. "I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy."
The silver-haired boy laughs, "I am sure you do not. Well, see you at the feast, Potter! Do not let the—festivities—ruin your seemingly enjoyable dream."
Harry glares at the blonde as he walks past him, purposefully bumping his shoulder against his. He expects Draco to react in some way to the rude action but the Malfoy heir merely laughs again. "My my, are you shaking? Need me to call your mother for you, Potter?"
There is a line you do not cross.
Harry spins around, wand in hand, and before Draco can even blink, he is pinned to the wall of the train. "Say that again, Malfoy!" Harry snarls, glaring at the blonde.
Draco just smirks, "Do you need me to call your mother for you, Potter? It sure seems like little Harry could use a bedtime story." Harry glares even more furiously at the boy as he continues. "What? You didn't seriously think the likes of you could scare me, did you? I am a Malfoy, for Merlin's sake. And you, are a filthy half-blood who has found himself in a situation out of his depth."
Harry cannot restrain his rage and before he knows what is happening, he slaps Malfoy's pale cheek with the back of his hand. The blow snaps Draco's head to one side for a moment, a gasp of surprise leaving the boy's lips.
Harry watches in satisfaction as Draco presses a hand to the red mark already forming on his pale skin. "Do not ever speak about my mother again!" He orders furiously.
Malfoy just glares coldly at him, "You'll pay for this, Potter."
The blonde brushes past Harry to head for the door before turning around, "You might want to prepare yourself for this year. It will not be what you expect."
It takes Harry a moment to collect himself and rein in his anger. He looks down at his hand, a sigh leaving his lips. Well, there goes enjoying the welcome feast.
He turns and walks into the train, glancing through the windows in the doors of the compartments until he finds the one with Ron in it. He slides open the door and steps inside. The door slams shut behind him, drawing Ron and Hermione's attention.
Harry soon finds himself wrapped in his brown-haired's friend arms. "Harry! Where were you? We thought the train left you behind!"
"I needed to think," Harry answers simply, not wanting to even begin to recall the—vision?—that he saw on the platform. He is still extremely shaken by it.
He settles himself down on the side of the compartment opposite Ron and takes his trunk out of his pocket. He sets it on the cushioned bench next to him, turning to look at his friends. He finds both of their pairs of eyes staring at him. "What?" He questions.
Hermione looks at him in concern, "Are you sure you are okay, Harry? Ron said you missed a question he asked earlier, as well."
Harry takes a deep breath. No, I am not okay. I am going insane. "Yes, Hermione. I am fine. What did you ask?"
She hesitates for a moment longer, her eyes still not leaving him. "I asked, what classes are you taking this semester?"
"I am not sure yet. I plan to talk with McGonagall when we reach the school."
Hermione nods, "What class are you most looking forward to that you know for certain you are going to take?"
"Honestly, I have no idea. This school is so reliant on good teachers for a class to be good that I see no need to prematurely anticipate any class being enjoyable." Harry states. "Though I am decently certain I will enjoy Transfiguration as well as aways. Charms as well."
Hermione frowns but doesn't deny what he says, "I agree with you about Transfiguration and Professor Flitwick does a great job keeping Charms interesting."
She turns to Ron, "What about you?"
Ron shrugs, focused on a box of Chocolate Frogs that he must have purchased from the Trolley. "I don't know." He says, voice muffled by a mouthful of chocolate.
When the train nears Hogwarts, Ron and Harry step out of the compartment to allow Hermione to change into her robes. Harry casually gestures his wand at the windows of the compartment, making them dim so that no one can see within.
Ron doesn't notice the little spell and Harry places his wand back into his sleeve. I need to start using magic as much as I can. I need to test to see if it really is like a muscle and if it truly does increase based on use.
Once Hermione changes, he and Ron do the same. They arrive at Hogwarts moments later, the train coming to a stop. "Harry, where's your trunk?"
Harry grins at Hermione's question, pulling the shrunken brown trunk out of his pocket. Her eyes widen, "You shrunk it?"
Harry shrugs, "It wasn't hard. Quite the opposite, in fact."
Hermione nods slowly, seemingly very surprised at the display from her usually underwhelming friend. Harry sighs. I cannot believe I was such a bad student that Hermione is now impressed by me using a small, second-year spell.
They walk as a group to the carriages, Harry's eyes fluttering to the beautiful creatures pulling them. The skeletal creatures move with ethereal grace and Harry is glad he read enough to know what they are. Thestrals. Wrongfully considered as dark creatures because they can only be seen by those who have witnessed death.
Without thinking, he gently reaches out and runs a hand down one's spine. The creature lets out a rumbling hiss of content at the contact and Harry smiles. He hears an exclamation and turns to see Ron, Hermione, and Ginny looking at him weirdly. The girl next to Ginny just smiles at him, her silver hair pulled to one side of her head. He sighs, pulling back his hand as the creature lets out a low growl of disappointment.
"What were you doing, Harry?" Hermione questions, looking at him strangely.
"He was petting the Thestrals," the silver-haired girl states dreamily. "Fascinating creatures, they are."
Hermione cocks her head, "There is nothing there, Luna."
Luna moves from her spot next to Ginny and sits next to Harry, her side brushing against him. She reaches out and gently begins to pet the other Thestral that Harry didn't touch. Luna. So that is her name. "You can see them, too." He says. It is not a question.
Luna nods, "Oh yes. I have been able to see them since my first year."
"I am sorry," Harry mutters, knowing what that means.
Luna shrugs, "It's in the past. I prefer to focus on the future."
Harry smiles again, "Enjoying the girl's whimsical tone of voice. "What are you talking about?" Hermione asks, her voice rising in tone.
Harry turns to face her, "We are talking about the Thestrals." He reaches out a hand, running it down the skeletal spine of the creature once more.
"Harry, there is nothing there." Hermione states. "What are you—"
Harry cuts her off, voice a little colder than he intended. "They can only be seen by those who have witnessed death, Hermione. So no, you cannot see them."
Hermione's eyes widen and she looks between Harry and Luna. "I'm sorry," she whispers.
Harry shakes his head, "It is of no consequence. You didn't know."
He turns back to Luna, "What year are you in, Luna? Ravenclaw, right?"
She nods, her focus remaining on the Thestral. "This will be my third year. I am one behind you. And yes, I am indeed an eagle."
Harry nods, "It is nice to meet you, Luna."
"You too, Harry Potter," she says brightly.
Ron interrupts their conversation a moment later, "What do you mean you are an eagle? Aren't you a raven?"
Harry shakes his head, beginning to speak before Hermione enters what he has dubbed 'lecture mode.' "No, Ron. The animal of House Ravenclaw, as strange as it seems, is an eagle, not a raven."
Hermione nods, her eyes looking directly at Harry. Harry looks at her, meeting her eyes. He shrugs at her unasked question, knowing that she has noticed his different attitude and more knowledgable responses.
They arrive at the school not much later and the Thestral-drawn carriages move away from them.
Harry walks side by side with his friends to the entrance to the Great Hall, nodding in greeting to Alicia and Angelina. Katie walks at their side and Harry smiles slightly at her. Before he can enter the hall, he hears a voice and sighs, "Potter!"
He turns around to see Professor Snape fast approaching him, black cloak fluttering in the wind. He sees Malfoy just behind him, smirking. Though Harry grins and gestures to his right cheek where a red mark is still visible. "With me now, Potter."
Harry sighs, following Snape away from the doors to the Great Hall. He can feel the eyes of his friends on him as he follows the man to a more secluded area. "What is this I hear about you attacking Mister Malfoy, Potter? Not only did you attack him, but you also did so in a manner not befitting of any wizard. You are not a muggle so do not act like one."
Harry looks down, "Sorry, Professor."
"Would you like to give me an explanation? I would love to dock points from Gryffindor before the year begins so for your sake, this better be good."
Harry shakes his head, "No explanation, Professor."
Snape sneers, "Fine. 10 points from Gryffindor for acting in such a way and detention tomorrow night."
Harry nods, clenching his hands into fists. "Yes, Professor."
He turns to leave but Snape stops him, "I know that Malfoy likely said something to get you to act in such a way and this is your chance to convince me that I should not punish you. I will ask you again. What did he tell you?"
Harry shakes his head, "It is of no consequence, Professor. I do not want to bother you with such childish altercations."
Snape shakes his head, "You Gryffindors and your honor…" he mutters. "I just offered for the third time to give you a way out of punishment and you refuse. You are beginning to make me think you attacked him merely because you wanted to."
Harry sighs, "He did say something to me, Professor. But I do not feel it appropriate to share."
"Why is that?"
"Because he already felt the consequences of his words. I see no point in bringing them up again." Harry states calmly.
Snape sneers again, "Fine. Your detention will be tomorrow after dinner. Do not be late."
Harry nods, "I will not be, sir."
He turns to walk away before pausing, "I will tell you this, Professor. Malfoy crossed a line. He said something that I will never accept."
Snape cocks his head, "What, did he mock you?"
Harry shakes his head. "No, Professor. He seemed to think it funny to mock my lack of parents; specifically a mother."
Snape's eyes narrow, "He did what?"
Harry shakes his head, "You heard me, Professor. But just so we are clear, I will never tolerate anyone speaking negatively about my parents. My mother and father died to protect me so the least I can do is protect their memories."
Snape doesn't respond and Harry walks back toward the Great Hall. He does not look back at the Professor, wondering why he seemed so shocked and angered? Why would Snape care about Draco insulting my mother? He thinks as he rounds a corner and walks to the Great Hall.
He enters the Great Hall just as cries of dismay fill the air. He settles himself next to a fuming Ron and asks Hermione, "What's going on?"
She smiles slightly, "Headmaster Dumbledore just announced that there will not be any Quidditch this year."
Harry's mouth falls open, "No Quidditch? What? Why?"
She shrugs, gesturing to where Dumbledore stands. "I have a feeling he is about to tell us."
Harry nods and like the rest of the occupants of the hall, he falls silent. "I know, I know, quite a disappointing loss. Allow me to explain." Dumbledore states. "I am delighted to announce that this September, Hogwarts—."
He is interrupted when the doors to the Great Hall slam open and a man walks in. He carries a large wooden stick and one of his eyes darts around the room erratically. A brief flash of lightning better illuminates the man's features, revealing charred skin.
The man walks down the middle of the hall, shaking hands with Dumbledore before moving off to stand in one corner of the room. "That's Mad-Eye Moody!" Hermione exclaims.
Harry nods, having recognized the man himself. Dumbledore coughs, "Allow me a brief reprieve from my announcement to introduce to you all the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody."
There is light applause from the hall before Dumbledore continues. "Yes, yes. Welcome, Professor Moody. Now, back to the announcement." He pauses for a moment, eyes twinkling in the light coming from the overhead candles. "Hogwarts has been given the honor of hosting a very exciting event in the coming months, an event that has not been held in over a century. It is to my great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts over this year."
Gasps of surprise and shock fill the hall and Harry mutters to himself, "So that is what Malfoy meant. His father must have told him already…"
Hermione gives him a funny look but before she can question him, Dumbledore begins to speak, "The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago between the three largest wizarding schools in Europe: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected from each school, and the three champions competed in three magical, and harrowing tasks. The three schools took turns hosting the tournament every five years and it was largely considered a perfect way to create inter-school ties. That is until the death toll became too high and the tournament seised to occur."
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament in a way that would not cause loss of life, but none of these attempts were successful. However, the departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have, with the help of many, found a way to reinstate the tournaments with minimal risk to the champions."
Harry begins to tune out all that is happening around him, a feeling of elation swelling within him. I might finally get a year of peace.
"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining here for the better part of this year. I will provide you all more information over the coming weeks before the arrival of these prodigious schools from around the world. I trust that all of you will be on your utmost behavior when these esteemed guests arrive."
They set off for bed, the entire school body charged with excitement and anticipation for the year to come.
A/N.
I recently received a review complaining about this story being a slow burn with me not stating that in the summary. I don't understand why some readers dislike so-called "slow burns." Do they want a story that has a relationship form extremely quickly without much background or realism? That doesn't make sense. For a story to properly create a romance, there must be a level of attraction and trust that can only be created with time.
If you do not like this story, there is no need for a rude review. Just leave. Any negative reviews will be ignored. I will gladly accept constructive criticism or suggestions, however.
This does not accurately represent the chapter length of this story. As the first chapter, it is far longer than the average chapter will be.
The age restriction still remains for the tournament. I will address that in the next chapter.
Some have commented that Snape acted out of character when he displayed weakness to Harry. I disagree. He displayed weakness because of the mention of Lily. The man has not lost his attachment to her and, if anything, it has only grown stronger after her death. (However, I did edit that scene slightly as I did not handle it the way I wanted to.)
I am sure some of you dislike the dark nature of this story and I understand that. There is an explanation for the vision Harry had and the dark cause of death of the Death Eater. All will be explained in time.
Also, I apologize for the slightly repetitive nature of this chapter. I wanted to fit all 'pre-Hogwarts' material into this chapter so the next can begin to focus on the more interesting stuff…(:
Let me know what you think! This story will soon greatly differ from canon. The 'vision' Harry saw will slowly begin to address a very important part of this story. There are going to be some dark/horror parts to this story. Harry will eventually begin to push the boundaries of morality (just a warning). This is not your typical love story but the romance will (eventually) play a prominent role.
I will not be writing Fleur's dialogue with any sort of weird accent. The translation convention is going to make my life easier. Besides, I have never liked reading dialogue from Fleur where it is like, "Oui, Ze (The) students at Beauxbatons 'ave (have) very…" You get my point. I will not be doing that. It is pointless to me. I am writing this story in English as it is my first language and I have no plan to write in this manner. You all know she has an accent. Just take that into account.
In my story, Fleur will be played by Emilie de Ravin. I have nothing against Clémence Poésy but personally picture Emilie as Fleur. (You can view her on the cover photo of this story if you do not want to look her up).
Also, this is a slow burn and will not immediately be Harry/Fleur.
I apologize for the length of this author's note. This is the first chapter so it will have a longer note than the other chapters.
If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I will answer what I can without spoiling the future of this story.
(THIS IS NOT EDITED OR BETA-READ)