Disclaimer : This work is a fanfiction based off of the Harry Potter Universe created by J.K Rowling. Any Characters, plots and settings already established in this universe belong exclusively to her. I do not nor will I ever claim ownership over them.
I'd also like to point out that the formatting of the location, time and date of each scene is taken from ACI100 with his permission, somebody that I follow on Discord. His stories are truly a work of art and inspired me to write my own so I'd advise also checking his profile out on this site. This will eventually turn into a Multi POV story like his so it is there so as to not completely confuse people. His formatting makes sense and is easy to follow.
Feel free to leave reviews letting me know your thoughts on each chapter or on the story as a whole as I dive further into it. Praise and constructive criticism are both welcome, though outright insults over my writing are not. Anyone who has attempted to write a story knows how much harder it is than it looks and we are all nervous to put our work into the world. We don't need to be made to feel like crap.
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Thanks and Enjoy.
Harry Potter and The Forsaken's Awakening
Year One - The Diverging Paths
Chapter Three - New Beginnings
August 29th, 1991
Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts
8:03 pm
Neither of them had spoken for the first few minutes that this meeting had taken place other than pleasant greetings and a plea from the man sitting behind the desk to give him a minute to finish the letter he was currently in the middle of writing.
It would have been completely silent if not for the occasional sounds coming from a group of little trinkets sitting on a shelf in the corner of the room and the scratching of quill against parchment.
She had barely moved since taking her chair across from him. Her elbows on each armrest either side of her, with her hands clasped together in front of her face. Most people would have gotten impatient by now, or resorted to tapping their fingers against the armrests out of sheer boredom.
Not her, though.
Perhaps in her school days, she would have done the same, because she was not nearly as patient then as she was now. She had never seen the point in it back then, as it was her drive and constant demand of nothing but excellence for herself that put her so far ahead of her peers. It had its benefits, though, and later she had learned that the reward that could be reaped for being patient in certain scenarios was extremely satisfying sometimes.
Finally, though, the old man across from her finished writing and looked up, smiling as she raised a single, delicate eyebrow.
"A letter to an old acquaintance of mine in Romania who happens to be in possession of an old artefact I wish to acquire."
"Will you be able to? Acquire it, I mean?"
"I believe so, though my acquaintance is hardly the easiest person to negotiate with. I expect I will be waiting until after Halloween before I manage to persuade him into lending it to me."
His blatant disregard of wizarding traditions, especially one as important as Samhain, irritated her beyond belief. It was just the way Dumbledore was. He had always been fond of muggle things for reasons she couldn't quite fathom. As someone who deeply respected and celebrated the old ways, it irked her that somebody as high up and important as him did not so much as acknowledge them, though she didn't call him out on it.
"What is this artefact, anyway? What does it do?"
Dumbledore leaned forward with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Have you ever heard of the Mirror of Erised, Diana?"
"Once or twice. Only by name reference, though," she replied easily. "I take it that it does more than show your reflection?"
"Not necessarily," Dumbledore said, a conspicuous smile directed at her. "The happiest man on earth would see himself exactly as he is."
She liked this about Dumbledore. This was far from her first interaction with him, and each time they had sat like this during the war, he had always let her figure things out for herself, instead of holding her hand through everything.
It didn't take her long to figure it out.
"It shows you what you desire the most," she answered, wondering why Dumbledore would need such a thing. "Surely, a man with as much experience in life such as yourself would know by now what he desires?"
The old wizard opposite her chuckled at that. Actually chuckled at her. "I daresay I do, it wouldn't be my first experience with the artefact." His look changed then, studying her as if she were a fascinating bug, and Diana knew what was coming a second before it inevitably did. "Would you be able to guess what it is you might see gazing into it?"
"I would," she replied confidently.
"Perhaps you would care to enlighten an old man?"
She watched him for a moment, debating whether her desires were too personal a thing to tell him or not. There was nothing in his face that said he would potentially use it against her in the future - it wouldn't be the first time her weaknesses had been used against her - but she knew all too well that people could change their minds about something in an instant.
She knew somebody like Dumbledore didn't get so many important positions in the world without a shred of manipulation.
But he had trusted her enough to let her help in the fight against the Dark Lady.
"I see myself and my godson standing side by side, happy and free of the burdens of war," Diana stated, looking off to the side yet not really seeing anymore. "The familial bond we shared, stronger than ever."
There was a strange, comfortable silence between them before Diana broke it again.
"So what do you need the mirror for, if not to see what you desire?"
"I plan on using it for the protection of the Philosopher's Stone."
When the only visible reaction she gave him was confusion, he elaborated. "Alone, the mirror can hide the stone, and only appear to those who desire it above all else, but an enchantment of my own design allows only someone who wants to find the stone, but not use it, to acquire it."
"Clever."
"Indeed. Between the two of us, that is one of my more ingenious ideas."
"So, why exactly are you using a school as bait for Voldemort to try and get the stone? Where, there just so happens to be hundreds of children each year."
It was astonishing how quickly Dumbledore could go from delighted at talking about his new enchantment, to looking almost double his age in a matter of seconds.
"We lost all knowledge on Voldemort's whereabouts a while back. My sources told me she was hiding in Albania, yet last winter I got a report that she was no longer there and that there was no trace of her having been there at all. The implication was quite clear that she had been gone for some time, and we've yet to make any progress tracking her down. When the Flamel home was attacked, I thought it obvious that Voldemort was attempting to steal the stone to aid her in returning to power. I suspect she has managed to convince some poor soul to let her take possession of their body, no doubt promising all kinds of riches and honours. If I can trap her at Hogwarts, as I have no doubt she will attempt a break in at some point, we might have a chance to finally stop her for good."
"And what if we can't? What if she finds a way around your enchantment and gets her hands on the stone?"
"Then we must start training the Potter twins immediately,'' Dumbledore stated heavily. "Voldemort will not rest until they are dead."
"She would have to kill me before I let her harm one hair on Harry's head."
The conviction with which she stated that made the corners of Dumbledore's mouth pull up.
"You love him." It wasn't a question.
"As if he were my own son." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I cannot have children of my own, so when Lily asked me to be Harry's godmother, I saw the opportunity I've wanted since I was a teenager and in love for the first time."
A wistful smile crossed her face. Those stolen moments of bliss felt like a lifetime ago. They were, in a way. She had been through so much since then. Was much stronger on the inside because of the heartbreak she had suffered. And she had only been eighteen when she found out that she couldn't have children. The dream of being a mother, taken from her. Her heart, already broken by the very recent end of her relationship, shattered beyond repair.
Or so she had thought.
It wasn't until she had held Harry for the first time, his beautiful green eyes staring up at her and his tiny hands clutching her finger that a warmth she had almost forgotten the feeling of had spread through her.
The feeling of love. So familiar yet so different, because it was not the romantic love she had felt years ago, but a new, exciting motherly love that burned within her hotter than anything she had ever felt in her entire life.
"It's why I was so angry when I found out that Lily had left him with her sister," Diana carried on, turning back to face Dumbledore. "I was furious with her and you for not telling me where I could find him, and even angrier with you when I realised that there was no way that I could track him with the wards you put up wherever he was staying. No heir of a house as old and prestigious as the Potters should ever have been raised by muggles."
"It was the safest place outside of Potter Manor for him," Dumbledore explained gently. "The blood wards I placed around their property ensured that nobody who wished them harm could get near the house. Not even Voldemort herself could have gotten to him."
It was a small comfort that he had been safe from people outside the household, but it was never them she had been concerned about. Lily's descriptions of Petunia didn't paint the prettiest picture she had seen by any stretch of the imagination, and according to her and James, the man she married was even worse.
She could only imagine what two magic-hating muggles had done to her godson.
Despite trying to imagine that he had grown up happy, she feared the worst.
Peter's retelling of meeting him in Flourish and Blotts had done nothing to dissuade her from those fears. If anything, they had only increased because of it. She had pressed for every little detail until Peter had simply given her the memory to watch for herself.
Based on what she had seen of his mannerisms, his hesitancy to touch people, his despicable clothing and shoes that were barely holding together, she would bet everything she owned that he had been abused.
She would also bet everything she had that he would be sorted into Slytherin.
"I must admit I am anxious to see him again."
"As am I. I must admit my curiosity as to how he will adapt to the wizarding world. All reports I received indicated that his intelligence is nothing short of remarkable, that he has a healthy thirst for knowledge, and is often visiting the school library and local libraries around the nearest towns."
"You've had people watching him?" Diana questioned, not one to miss such an obvious implication.
"A squib by the name of Arabella Figg whom I managed to snag a home not far from Harry's has been keeping an eye on him for me. She was most eager to help in any way she could, often watching him when his relatives had other places to be."
Diana made a non-committal hum in response, not eager to share her thoughts on exactly how incompetent this squib must have been to not understand that Harry had not had a happy childhood at all. His clothing should be a good enough indicator alone that something wasn't right, let alone everything else.
Was she truly so ignorant? Or had she indeed reported these things to Dumbledore who had then decided not to remove him from such an environment?
"I have full faith in Harry's ability to adapt to the wizarding world, though I will help him if the transition isn't as smooth as I think it will be. I doubt he'll want anything to do with Lily. I wouldn't, in his position. Even in mine, I haven't spoken to her since I found out what she did."
Diana shook her head, a mirthless scoff escaping her lips.
"He's going to be so angry."
A contemplative look crossed Dumbledore's face for all of a second before it was gone.
"Keep an eye on him for me, this year. Speak with him outside of class if you must. We can't allow that anger to grow into something darker."
"Of course."
She had already planned on doing exactly that. She would watch him, and most certainly speak with him ... just not for Dumbledore. Or for Lily, for that matter. As far as she was concerned, they had already been given their chance and they had messed up big time. They had made their bed, and now they had to lay in it. If Harry hated their guts and wanted nothing to do with them, she wouldn't attempt to change that.
As far as she was concerned, the only people she was doing this for was herself and Harry.
September 1st, 1991
Platform Nine and Three Quarters
10:21 am
The last seven weeks had been perhaps the most eye-opening experience of Harry's short life. Forty-nine days he had spent pouring over his books, devouring every last bit of information like his life depended on it. It did, in a way. There was a lot to learn, and Harry had no intention of being incompetent by any means.
Peter had been most helpful in that regard. All sorts of books on Laws, Customs, Etiquette, the Wizengamot, Ancient and Noble houses, Quidditch and all sorts of history books. It was almost overwhelming, the amount of books he'd had by the end of that day alone, but necessary. If he truly wished to succeed in the world and understand it, which he did, then he needed to learn, and fast. He had by no means read all of it, for there was simply too much to read in too short a time, but he had made a lot of headway.
That wasn't even to mention all the extra things he'd picked up around the Alley. Peter had advised going to the trunk shop next, something Harry had been very grateful for by the end of the day. He'd picked out an expensive looking, top of the line trunk with a lock on it which could be set with whatever password he desired. His trunk was expanded on the inside to fit much more than just his school things, which he had needed.
He had gone around, getting everything his list demanded. With the last thing he had needed being a wand. His wand had been thirteen inches of black ebony wood, with a dragon heartstring core. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. Holding it for the first time had been nothing short of sensational. It marked the end of his life in the muggle world, and his return to the magical world.
The Dursleys had been nearly terrified of him when he'd returned. Their faces when he had shown them the letter he had gotten with his cupboard written as the address were truly the most entertained Harry had been in a long while.
They had squirrelled him into Dudley's second bedroom the moment he'd returned with Hagrid, who had re-joined him after he had received his trunk. His mattress had already been taken up when he was out, and they had left him to his own devices.
It was the best seven weeks he had spent there.
He had used his newly found free time to not only read religiously, but he had gone back to Diagon Alley to pick up a whole new wardrobe from a place called Parkinson's Mannequins, again on Peter's suggestion, lest he get bullied for his attire he would wear on weekends.
The young woman that had helped him was rather snobbish at first, looking him up and down with a sort of disdain, but when she realised that he did, in fact, have the money to pay for what he wanted, she had been most helpful and she had practically glowed with the opportunity to dress him up in all sorts of wears.
His interest, though, had been on the symbols etched into the inside of every item of clothing, which he had been told after asking about them were called Runes. Apparently these particular runes prevented his clothes from burning, staining and growing too small, always resizing themselves to fit the wearer perfectly.
Harry thought the last idea was not a particularly smart idea business-wise, because unless there was something new in stock that caught someone's eye, most customers wouldn't shop there more than once, but each to their own.
It had sparked an interest in Runes, at any rate, and he had gone back to Flourish and Blotts to grab a couple of books on the subject.
So here he stood on day fifty, staring at the scarlet train that would take him away from the muggle world for good, seeing as he had absolutely zero intention of ever going back to the Dursleys. Thankfully, Hogwarts: A History had told him exactly how to get to the platform, because Hagrid sure as hell hadn't.
He had taken the Knight Bus, another little thing Peter had mentioned, and gotten there early enough that there weren't a great deal of people, which suited him just fine.
He'd never liked crowds, anyway.
It didn't take him long to find an empty compartment near the back of the train, levitating his trunk into the overhead storage with his wand. That was something he had used a lot to practise spells with over the past weeks. Having already changed into his uniform with the exception of his robes before he left the Dursleys, and having carried his reading material for the journey up to Hogwarts, he had no reason to keep his trunk out.
Plopping down onto a seat, Harry fiddled with the collar of his shirt before opening his Potions book. It wasn't a subject that captured his attention like Defence Against the Dark Arts did, or Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, but he saw its uses, judging by the few potions he had read about so far.
He also wanted to be the best at everything, so studying it was a necessity.
Losing himself in his studies was easy. So much so that he didn't notice the station slowly getting more packed, nor did he see parents hugging and kissing their kids goodbye.
Not that he would care much if he had. Harry had been stewing on how he felt about his mother ever since he had learned that she had dumped him at Privet Drive's doorstep. Each time he thought about it, the angrier he became. A bubbling pit of fury deep in his gut came to life every time he started thinking about her.
He had seen parents kiss their children goodbye everyday at school for years, and he had long accepted that he wouldn't receive that treatment from the Dursleys. His mother being alive changed nothing in that regard. Even since he had re-entered the wizarding world, she hadn't come to see him or even written a letter to him. Probably because she wanted nothing to do with him, being the expendable son that he was.
He had no wish to relive old desires of having someone show him affection that had faded long ago.
They only ended up hurting him.
He was only jolted out of his studies by the train lurching before starting to move. It made him smile slightly. He was finally on his way to Hogwarts. He couldn't wait to start what felt like a new beginning.
A soft knock at the door another moment later startled him slightly, looking up to see a girl standing behind it. Nodding slightly at her, she smiled slightly before gently sliding it open.
"Hi, do you mind if I sit here? I'd rather not search the whole train for a quiet compartment."
Harry shook his head, gesturing the seat opposite in open invitation.
This new girl was very pretty, Harry could immediately see. Even if that didn't mean all that much to him, he could still tell the difference between what he considered a pretty girl and a not-so-pretty girl. This girl was rather tall, an inch or so taller than him, if he had to guess off of estimates alone. She was tanned, indicating a lot of time spent in the sun. She had white blonde hair that flowed in waves down to her shoulder blades, sky blue eyes and naturally full, pink lips - alongside an athletic build, with the hint of curves coming through, from what Harry could see.
The next thing he noticed about her was that like him, she was dressed in uniform, though she wasn't wearing robes or the school jumper - simply her school shirt and tie - and wore a skirt and tights instead of the trousers he himself was wearing. Her robes were draped over her trunk that she was just now pulling into the compartment.
The third thing he noticed was that judging by the fact that her tie was not black and grey like his, but instead green and silver, he thought it a fairly obvious deduction that this girl was not a first year. A Slytherin, too, by the looks of it.
"What is it?" the new girl asked after she had levitated her trunk up to the storage above, her robes folded on the seat next to her, a book of her own in her hands. It was only then that realised he had yet to look away from her.
Feeling his face get warmer, he hastened to answer, "Sorry - I uhm … I just wondered what year you're in at Hogwarts."
"I'm starting my second year in Slytherin," came her soft reply.
"Yeah, the tie sort of gave that away."
Her lips curled upwards, "Yes, I suppose it would." There was a moment in which they eyed each other, before she stuck out her right hand, upon which Harry couldn't help noticing not only that her nails were painted green, but that she had a rather expensive looking silver ring on her ring finger.
The ring of an heir or heiress to a Most Ancient House at the very least.
Aria Malfoy," she introduced herself, "Heiress to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy."
The social class ladder in the wizarding world was made up of seven different categories. At the bottom were the regular Houses, of which were neither old enough to be called Ancient nor had done anything of notoriety to earn themselves a Noble title.
Then came the Noble Houses. To earn the title of Noble, one must either hold one of five significant positions in either Britain, won any class of an Order of Merlin, or made a massive contribution to the magical world, whether that be through significant donations, or having invented helpful potions, spells or wards.
A House - Noble or above - was granted an immediate seat on the Wizengamot.
The five positions that granted a house the title of noble were Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Minister of Magic; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; Britain's representative in the ICW, or Headmaster/Headmistress of Hogwarts.
Three of which were currently held by Albus Dumbledore.
Third from bottom was the Ancient Houses. Family names that had been around in Britain for three hundred years or more starting from the first time a new family name was admitted into Hogwarts were granted the title of Ancient.
Directly in the middle of the seven were Ancient and Noble houses, something granted to houses who had completed both objectives for an Ancient House and a Noble House.
Third from top were the Most Ancient Houses, family names that had been around for seven hundred years or more. Houses that passed the seven hundred year threshold were granted a Lord and Heirship ring with their family crest on it, though the title of Lord and Lady, along with Heir and Heiress, were granted to any house Noble or above.
The wizarding world favoured houses that had been around longer rather than those who had done something noteworthy, yet this also stopped new Houses, usually started by muggleborns or halfbloods with a muggle father, from easily getting a seat in the government. They had to be truly exceptional or come from a very rich muggle family to have a chance at it early on.
Harry understood and agreed with this. What right did people born to muggles have to come into the Wizarding world and start demanding immediate change? Their laws differed from the muggle ones for a reason.
These people had to come in and prove themselves before making demands, himself included, even though he was not a muggleborn and came from a very old family. He had grown up in the muggle world, after all. He had no right to try and make witches and wizards change their ways.
He would adapt to their rules, not the other way around.
The second highest rung on the social ladder were the Most Ancient and Noble Houses, like this Aria Malfoy girl came from. They had fulfilled the requirements of a Most Ancient House and a Noble house, like the name suggested, and they were very influential and very highly respected.
Only one class type of House was more so.
With that in mind, he took her hand with no hesitation, clamping down on his physical contact problem as he did, bringing it to his lips and kissing her knuckles briefly as custom dictated he did whenever he met an Heiress or Lady of a Most Ancient House or higher.
"Pleasure to meet you, Heiress Malfoy. I'm Harry Potter, Heir to the Founding House of Potter."
It just so happened that his House was in that class.
The seventh and final rank was the Founding Houses, names given to the Houses that founded the Wizengamot on January 1st, 1001 AD. There were thirteen in total, and House Potter was one of them. The other twelve were Houses: Black, Bones, Crouch, Fawley, Gaunt, Greengrass, Lestrange, Longbottom, Nott, Peverell, Prewett and Rosier.
Of those thirteen, only ten remained, as Houses Gaunt and Peverell were officially dead, and House Prewett no longer had any members that weren't married into another family.
Aria's eyes widened ever-so-slightly for a moment, before they returned back to normal and her smile widened further as their hands let go and she took the seat opposite him.
"So, the mysteriously absent Potter Heir finally appears," she remarked, causing his own eyes to widen momentarily.
"You've … heard of me?"
This promptly turned her smile upside down.
"Why wouldn't I have heard of you?"
He fidgeted in his seat, not exactly eager to explain just why he thought people hadn't heard of him.
"When I was introduced at The Leaky Cauldron, everyone thought I was a muggleborn because apparently everyone knows that the Potters only have one son." There was a bitterness that he couldn't fully hide from his voice when retelling the story to the girl opposite him, and judging by the expression he couldn't quite read which flashed across her face for no more than a second, she had caught it.
"But surely your mother and siblings would have been with you?"
Harry bit his lip. He would not tell her that he had been living with muggles for ten years, and he doubted telling her that he went with Hagrid would curb her curiosity, either, so Harry decided on a half-truth.
"I … haven't exactly had much to do with my family, so I went alone."
Just saying the word family felt odd on his tongue. He had never regarded anybody as family, not even the Dursleys. They had always strictly been relatives only, for as long as he'd known the word. He'd never had any friends close enough to call family, either. Hell, he'd never had any friends, and had long given up the hope of making any.
Even now, he wasn't really expecting anybody to want anything to do with him when he had a famous brother whom everybody seemed to adore.
"Those people that claimed the Potters only have one son are a disgrace to the name of witch and wizard," Aria scowled, an expression that Harry wasn't sure if he liked on her face or not. She looked much better when she was smiling. "The best families will remember you, that's for sure."
"The best families?"
"Not politically, if that's what you're thinking. The best families are the ones who still follow customs and tradition as they should, instead of turning their backs on it by celebrating muggle things like Halloween."
The scorn with which she spat Halloween surprised him, but he couldn't help agreeing. Halloween was one of his least favourite days of the year for several reasons, the least of which being that Dudley always came home every year with a mountain of sweets that he ate gloatingly in front of Harry.
"The best families - the right sort of families - are the ones who uphold everything we witches and wizards stand for, instead of pandering to the muggles' way of things like a blood traitor. We are the ones who take note of when children, especially ones as high up politically as the Potters, are born. My father asked your mother a few years ago at a Ministry Event when we would be seeing the Potter Heir make an appearance, which was when I found out you existed, otherwise I wouldn't have known until tonight at the Sorting Ceremony, I imagine."
It was very clear that this was something Aria was very passionate about. If her tone hadn't given it away, the vigour with which she spoke about the subject would have. The phrase 'blood traitor' was new, but he could easily understand what it meant. How could anybody want to turn their back on the tradition of the magical world and want to be like common muggles? There was nothing remotely special about them.
"What did my mother say?"
"Nothing. She just ignored him and walked away."
Fantastic. His mother had refused to acknowledge his existence. Wasn't that just great?
"I take it you've met my brother, then?"
"I have," she said carefully. "I hope you don't take it personally if I say I didn't like him one bit. It really didn't help his case that he is best friends with the Weasleys."
"Why? What's wrong with them?"
She raised a single, delicate eyebrow at him. "Do you like them?" she asked, lip curling.
"I've never interacted with them," he answered honestly. "I just wanted to know why you don't like them."
"They're the biggest bunch of blood traitors around, consorting with muggles for fun and completely disregarding our ways. Their father even works in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office in the Ministry."
At Harry's raised eyebrow and wrinkling of his nose, she let out a short laugh. "Exactly. Not only is that department completely pointless, apparently the man is obsessed with anything muggle. Their kids are all loud, annoying Gryffindors with no appreciation for subtlety or being quiet. They're almost as far from the right sort as you can get. Our families don't get along at all."
Harry nodded to that. The Weasleys really didn't like the type of people he wanted to mix with if anything Aria said about them was true. He paused, unsure if he should ask what he wanted to, before taking a deep breath and going ahead.
"So, you don't like muggleborns, then? Or … muggle-raised children?"
Harry feared for a second that he had said too much, because the way she was looking at him seemed like she knew exactly how he had been raised and why he would ask that question in such a way. Soon enough, though, her expression changed back to normal.
"If they were willing to adapt to our world and don't try to force their muggle ways on us, I would at the very least respect them for making an effort to fit in. If they don't ... then saying I don't like them would be putting it mildly."
That was fair, in his opinion, Harry decided as he nodded and they each went back to their separate books, falling into a comfortable silence that probably shocked him more than anything else that had happened in the last seven weeks. He had never, in his entire life, felt comfortable around anyone, let alone someone he had just met.
Not even Peter had gotten him comfortable. Maybe that was because he was an adult, and Harry didn't trust adults as far as he could throw them, which was to say, not at all. He still wasn't even sure how he had navigated that conversation so well and why he had suddenly opened up so much. He hadn't even hesitated in asking questions, something he hadn't been able to do without getting slapped before then.
But even around other children, he had never felt comfortable. His only comfort came at night the moment he was locked in his cupboard, because it meant that the Dursleys were done punishing him for the day.
The fact that he was comfortable for the first time around this girl, so comfortable, in fact, that he had put his feet up on the bench he was sitting on and was reading with his back against the wall by the window, facing the door … he honestly didn't know what to feel about it.
"What's Slytherin like?" He asked after a long while, turning his head to the right to face her.
Only to find her having already been looking at him, lips turned up into a pretty half-smile once more.
At her questioning glance, he elaborated, "I've been doing some reading about the houses, and I can't see myself anywhere other than in Slytherin."
"That would be a sight to see, a Potter sorted into Slytherin. I don't think a Potter has ever been sorted into Slytherin before, now that I think about it."
"First time for everything, I guess."
"Yes, I suppose so," Aria conceded, smiling more fully now. It was definitely a better look than her scowling, he decided. "It's a very politically-driven house. Some choose to actively take part in the politics of the house, and those that do constantly try to one up each other, others that don't take part and prefer to be more lowkey, find protection with people that are actively taking part, because otherwise they can become easy targets."
Sounded competitive, was Harry's first thought on the matter. "Which category do you fall into?"
"The latter," she replied, which honestly hadn't been what he was expecting. "I wanted to come into Hogwarts with the former, but considering my friends are all a year older than me and the two closest to me outrank me politically, both of which are better duellists than me, I decided to take a back seat, for now."
"What does duelling have to do with it?"
"There are a lot of unwritten rules in Slytherin that you have to know in order to survive in our house and not piss everyone off by not following them. If you're going to be in Slytherin, I suppose I should probably explain them to you now so that you aren't cursed into oblivion within a week …"
September 1st, 1991
The Antechamber, Hogwarts
9:56 pm
Hogwarts was truly magnificent, Harry had already decided.
The view from the boats that Hagrid, of all people, had led them to after exiting the train, was absolutely breath-taking. Easily the most beautiful sight he had come across, which after seeing a sky filled with stars once at the Dursleys when he'd snuck out of his cupboard, was actually saying a lot.
He had been relieved that Hagrid had not seen him amongst the other first years when they had gathered to him on the platform. The giant had already called out greetings to his brother and his Weasley friend, and Harry had no interest in having that conversation with his brother, yet. He had avoided it once already on the train.
After Aria had finished explaining to him the unwritten rules of Slytherin, they had made some small talk about Potions, because she had noticed he was reading up on it, and had advised him to read ahead because the teacher - a family friend of hers - liked to pick a student at random to answer questions on the first day to see if they had bothered to read anything in the book beforehand.
After that, they had both gone back to their books until the trolley had arrived, bringing with it sweets Harry had never seen. After admitting he'd never had sweets before, Aria had shared some of her chocolate frogs with him, as he had forgotten, in his haste and excitement at leaving, to make himself some food for the journey. It felt oddly nice, eating with somebody who was willing to put up with him, and it was a kindness he wasn't used to with which she shared her sweets with him.
It hadn't taken long, at least that's what Harry had thought, but in reality it had been two hours, until they had been interrupted by his brother and his friend, apparently looking for him. Hidden behind his book, Harry initially let Aria take the lead in questioning why he was there before he himself had pipped in that they hadn't seen him.
Thankfully, his brother and Ron Weasley, whom he'd introduced as his best mate had left, and Harry had thanked Aria for not giving him away. She had simply nodded, though Harry had caught her odd glances towards him and the door in which his brother had left, confusion plastered all over her face.
He had no idea what was running through her head, and thankfully, she didn't say anything on the subject.
They both eventually went back to their books, and again, it hadn't taken long for them to be interrupted, this time by Aria's brother, Draco, who was entering his first year, too, and two massive frames behind him that he hadn't gotten the names of.
Draco had been looking for his brother, and when Aria this time revealed him to her brother, Harry took a moment to stand and offer his hand, introducing himself. Draco hadn't taken it, hadn't even acknowledged it, and had simply nodded to his sister and left, apparently going looking for someone called Rafe, who Harry learned was their cousin, Raphael, a third year Slytherin.
It had been very disrespectful, and Aria had even said so, glaring a hole through the door in which Draco had left. She had warned him to not let her brother walk all over him and to put him in his place if he ever disrespected him like that again. Apparently Draco was used to getting everything he wanted and always believed that he was better than everyone else because of it. It reminded him of Dudley, to a degree, although Draco Malfoy seemed at least more intelligent than Dudley ever had been or ever would be. Somebody like that could be a dangerous enemy in the future, something that Harry did not want in the slightest.
They hadn't been sat for five minutes before the door was thrown open again for the third time without so much as a knock, this time producing a small, bossy girl with enormous front teeth and a mane of wild, bushy hair, and a snivelling boy called Neville who'd apparently lost his toad.
The girl, called Hermione Granger, prattled on and on about how she was the first in her family to have magic and that she had learned everything off by heart (join the club) and gloated that all of her spells had worked perfectly, of course (again, join the club) and could she borrow Aria's book when she was finished with it because it hadn't been on her Hogwarts list.
In the end, Aria had gotten so fed up with the girl that she had whipped out her wand and a muttered spell later, the door slammed shut in the girl's face and locked with a squelching click. She had looked over at him, and promptly informed him that Hermione Granger was the absolute worst sort, even worse than a Weasley.
Harry definitely agreed. He would not be spending any time at all with Hermione Granger, and hoped to Merlin, because that was something that magical people did, apparently, that they weren't sorted into the same house.
They hadn't been interrupted again after that.
When they had arrived, Aria had informed him that first year students had their belongings taken up to the castle by House Elves, so to leave his trunk in the compartment, and that robes were required for the start-of-term feast. He wasn't sure he believed her about leaving his trunk on the train thing at first until an announcement through the train said the same. He'd only read about House Elves a couple days prior.
Luckily, his robes had been at the very top of his trunk, so getting them hadn't been a problem. He thought they were overly heavy and quite restrictive, though thankfully, Aria thought the same and informed him that they were only necessary for the three feasts in the year. The first night of the year, the last night of the year in June, and Halloween, or Samhain, as she had called it.
Hagrid had taken them on a different, more scenic route to the castle and had dropped them off with Professor McGonagall, the woman who had written his letter, and obviously knew his living conditions since it had been written down on the parchment she had sent.
It didn't endear him to her in the slightest.
Especially when he learned that she was the Head of Gryffindor, something Harry had only heard bad things about from Aria, and good things from Hagrid.
Between the two of them, he'd take Aria's opinion over Hagrid's every day of the week.
She had left them for a moment, and Harry, huddled into a shadowy corner so as not to touch anyone, got his first experience with ghosts as they appeared through the wall right next to him, almost giving him a need for some Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation.
He also heard his brother and Ron Weasley loudly proclaiming that they had to fight a troll to get sorted, something Harry snorted at underneath his breath. Aria had been kind enough to explain the sorting ceremony to him, and putting on a talking hat was not nearly as dangerous as fighting a troll. According to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Trolls skin was highly resistant to magic and not something an eleven year old could ever hope to conquer without some insane luck.
The fact that he could hear some people taking them for their word and getting agitated because of it was idiocy at its finest. Were other children his age really this stupid? Not even Dudley would have believed that utter shite.
Soon enough, Professor McGonagall was back, ordering them into a line and to follow her. Harry, making sure to be at the very back of said line, just about managed to keep his jaw from dropping to the floor as he stepped foot into the Great Hall.
Thousands of floating candles lit up the room, hovering over the four tables from which hundreds of students stared at them and the fifth table at the end of the hall where all of the teachers sat. Each of the five tables had hundreds of golden plates and goblets sitting atop a very long tablecloth stretching from one end of the table to another in the colours their house represented, which then hung all the way down to the floor, displaying the crest of each house facing the door and the head table, which had a simple black tablecloth, and what imagines was the Hogwarts crest on each end.
Looking upwards, Harry noticed that the ceiling simply didn't look like it was there at all, but rather displaying the night sky, instead. It looked majestic, he had to admit. It was not the view of the castle he had seen from the lake, nor the starry sky he had been in awe of years ago, but it did take third on his beautiful sights list.
He heard Hermione Granger, for that snobbish, annoying voice could only be her, whisper something that he couldn't make out, far back as he was.
No doubt telling whoever could hear her about something she had read, Harry thought with a roll of his eyes.
Harry looked up again, only snapping back into reality when Professor McGonagall set up a stool and placed the sorting hat on top of it. To Harry's utter shock, a rip on the brim opened like a mouth, and the hat burst into song. He didn't really pay attention to it, if he was being completely honest, but it had said something about the four houses.
When it had finished and everyone had started clapping, Harry overheard Weasley telling his brother that he was going to kill some guy called Fred - probably a brother, Aria had told him the Weasleys had seven kids, six boys and a girl - for making them think they were going to wrestle a troll.
It was the first look Harry had gotten of his brother. From the back, he could see that his brother had hair so messy it looked more like a Raven's nest than hair. Petunia would have thrown a fit if his hair had ever been in such disarray.
Evan was also a couple inches shorter than Harry, though he had no idea how. As he'd mentioned earlier, for the way he had grown up, he was freakishly tall. Nobody who hardly had two meals a day and spent every night in a cramped cupboard should ever be as tall as he was for his age.
He could tell, though, even from here, that he was much thinner than Evan.
The sorting was much duller than he'd thought it would be. From their perspective, it was just somebody sitting on a stool with the hat on their head until it called out which house they would be sorted into. He tried committing names and faces to his memory for later use of everyone that was being sorted before him, as it was clearly going in alphabetical order of surnames.
Some people, like Susan Bones, a slightly chubby red-headed girl, took only a few minutes to be sorted into Hufflepuff. Others, like the annoying Hermione Granger, had taken what felt like an eternity to be sorted into Gryffindor.
He'd taken her for a Ravenclaw, but whatever. He supposed it took courage for her to walk an entire train looking for a toad.
Daphne Greengrass, a pretty girl with long, champagne blonde hair and sapphire eyes was sorted into Slytherin quite quickly, and Harry couldn't help noticing two things. Firstly, the way Slytherin House as a whole was much more composed and subdued compared whenever a new member entered their ranks compared to the other three, especially Gryffindor, who made Harry cringe when they exploded with cheers and screams, stomping their feet like hooligans at a football game.
The second, was that whenever a new Slytherin was announced, the Gryffindors would hiss and boo their displeasure. Aria had told him about the rivalry between the two houses, but Slytherin didn't resort to such pettiness whenever someone got sorted into Gryffindor, instead staying silent like the other three houses.
Gryffindors as a whole were just pieces of shit, then, it seemed.
Neville Longbottom, Harry finally learned the surname of the missing toad boy, was sorted into Gryffindor after almost eight minutes on the stool. He'd honestly thought he might die of boredom for a good two minutes there. How this boy, who had cried following the loss of a toad of all things, something Harry wouldn't be caught dead with as a pet, had been sorted into the house of bravery, was beyond him.
The idiot had even run off with the hat on his head and had reached the Gryffindor table before he'd even realised, having to jog all the way back, almost falling over in the process.
Draco Malfoy had been sorted into Slytherin almost instantly, the blonde boy smirking triumphantly as he sauntered his way over to the green and silver table.
A set of twin girls with the surname Patil ended up being split into Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. It was a good sign for him that such a thing happened. After seeing twin red-headed boys at the Gryffindor table earlier, he'd feared the worst. It was nice to know that twins could be split apart.
Finally Evan Potter was called up, swaggering up to the stool for all intents and purposes like he owned the place. It was jarring how similar a walk he had to Draco Malfoy. The hall behind him had fallen into hushed whispers, and he managed to pick up a few.
"Potter, did she say?"
"The Evan Potter?"
"The Boy Who Lived?"
As Evan turned to sit on the stool facing them all, Harry finally saw his brother's face. He was well-fed, that much was obvious. He wasn't fat, by any means, but he wasn't athletically built, either. Somewhere in the middle, Harry would say.
Harry could see the similarities in their features, but there were differences. While their eye shape was identical, Evan's green eyes were lighter than his, hidden behind stylish, round-shaped glasses. Harry's features were sharper and more defined, while Evan's were soft and round, very clearly still harbouring some lingering baby fat.
There was also an arrogant smile plastered on the boy's face.
One which Harry wanted to wipe off with as much force as he could muster.
The hat hadn't taken long at all to proclaim him a Gryffindor, and the frenzy with which the Gryffindors celebrated made Harry worry that there might be an earthquake about to destroy the castle he already adored. Rolling his shoulders back, Harry prepared to step up towards the hat.
"Potter, Harry."
The hall quietened again, but this time, the mutterings were not excited, only hesitant and confused.
"Another Potter?"
"As in, Evan Potter?"
"Evan doesn't have a brother, does he?"
"Is he a muggleborn?"
This was the second time such a thing had been said, causing the fury within him to start bubbling again, but he didn't react beyond a couple of twitches of his left eye, walking head held high and with confidence that did not belong to him towards the stool.
He finally resolved then and there that by the end of his time at Hogwarts, Evan Potter would be a mere footnote compared to him. He would be the greatest wizard to ever grace this castle's halls, performing feats of magic that left others gaping in awe.
He would show the whole fucking world who Harry Potter was.
Sitting down, the last thing he saw before everything went dark was hundreds of curious faces looking up at him.
He expected the hat to start talking to him like it obviously had everyone else save Draco Malfoy, who had been sorted in five seconds. He expected to have to demand he be placed in Slytherin. He expected a lot of things. What he didn't expect was what actually happened.
"SLYTHERIN!" the hat screamed, the moment it had slid over his eyes.
Author's Endnotes:
This marks the end of Chapter 3, which honestly took way longer than I wanted it to. Obligations on Thursday, Friday and Saturday limited the time I had to sit down and write this, so I've spent almost all of my Sunday writing this. I also ended up not realising how long this chapter would be, and as a result, I now already have about half of Chapter 4 written because I just kept going, and this was the only realistic place I could cut it off at.
This chapter wasn't the most fun to write, although the first scene with Dumbledore and Diana was very much so. I actually didn't have this scene in mind at all when going to write this chapter, and the other POV was supposed to be a completely different scene, but when I started, I realised I wanted this scene in and that I could save the other POV for later down the line, so I basically did that whole scene on the fly. Do let me know what you think of it.
Aria being introduced now also wasn't planned until recently. I was planning on having her come in just after Samhain originally, but having her come in now allowed me to write some things for Chapter 4, which simply couldn't have happened afterwards. Three things, specifically, one of which I have already written. I very much look forward to publishing Chapter 4.
Having to explain the social ladder of the wizarding world wasn't fun, and yes, I am aware it was done very similar to ACI100's in Ashes of Chaos with some differences, but there really was no other place I could possibly put it in. It was a drag, but it's out of the way now, and that's all that matters.
You will probably be aware of all the seven and threes in this chapter, and I assure you every single one of them was intentional, as was the date Harry was escorted to Diagon Alley in Chapter 2. Having seven weeks of seven days for Harry to learn everything was too good an opportunity to pass up, with seven being the most powerful magical number and all that jazz.
You'll also notice I skipped the song. I think it's lame, to be completely honest, and definitely breaks the immersion on the story for me. Adding it would've only been for the word count, which is going to be high enough as it is already. So adding it was unnecessary.
Chapter 4 should be coming soon, but with the unfortunate reality of having to work full time, I can't guarantee a date, just that it will be out soon. Anyways, let me know what you think.
Until next time.
