Thief, Hero, Rogue, Legend
Disclaimer/Plot/Challenge Information/Author's Note: SEE FIRST CHAPTER
Recommended Reads: Silver King and Trickshot by JustBored21, The Rise of the Last Potter by HPfanfictioner66, Pray For The Wicked by Kapiushon, Dying Light by Darkw01fie, Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man and Seventh Horcrux by Emerald Ashes
Key Pairing: Harry/Daphne
Other Pairings: To be determined
Normal Speech
'Thoughts'
/Parseltongue/
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"Time will tell, Mr Potter," argued Daphne, earning a scoff from Harry as he turned his eyes back to the window.
"It often does, Miss Greengrass…it often does…but, for what it's worth, I think…well, I hope that this is the start of a beautiful friendship…certainly better than some friends I could think of, but I digress…"
Chapter 2: I Had Strings, But As You See
"Anything off the trolley, dears?"
"Nothing for me, thank you," replied Harry coolly, while, across from him, Daphne Greengrass purchased a Cauldron Cake and a Liquorice Wand.
When the kindly lady left, muttering about polite young men and their manners, Harry hummed softly as he looked out of the window before, drawing in a slow breath, he mused, "Looks like we're nearing the Scottish border."
"How can you tell?" asked Daphne, earning a smirk from Harry.
"Because it's getting cold."
Legend
"Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one."
'Funny, I thought that Smoak girl had blonde hair…unless she dyes it,' thought Harry, ignoring the bossy-toned brunette who'd just barged into their compartment without knocking, much less bothering to introduce herself. She was just as annoying and intrusive as the blonde and, as Harry knew, she was also just as big a pain in the ass.
And not just the one he knew and loathed, either, but also the girl herself, whom was exactly as bad as the books.
Well, this time, she wouldn't be pulling his ass out of the fire, while the author used a boy's name to make sure he was seen as the hero.
After all, he wasn't a hero…and he should know, because he was Harry Potter.
"Excuse me!" insisted Hermione Granger, earning a scoff from Harry.
"For what? You haven't wronged us, Miss…well, not unless you count your atrocious manners, your loud voice, that wild hair and…yeesh, what's the matter? Haven't your parents ever heard of a dentist? Seriously, you could use those teeth of yours to build Hoover Dam!"
The girl soon ran, tears streaming down her cheeks.
And yet, as Harry leaned back into his seat, he smirked when Daphne told him, "That was cold."
"Thank you."
Legend
"Firs' years! This way, please! Come on, now, firs' years: don' be shy!"
Rolling his eyes at the overcompensating lack of subtlety on the part of the King Shark wannabe – minus the fangs and the threatening demeanour that Harry remembered – the emerald-eyed scion tucked his coat around himself, making sure to press his robes tighter around his body, before he set off with the rest of the first-years, ignoring the whispers, shivers and curious looks from many of his peers.
Unlike them, Harry liked the cold; it was simple, coordinated and never really cared about anyone or anything.
That was him to a T…
Well, it had been him, back in the good old days, before he'd met a certain Englishman and got carted off to deal with the Time Bastards and their delusions of grandeur, anyway.
Ah well, Fate, as he knew, had given him a second chance.
Of course, Harry didn't believe in Fate, hence one of his favourite calling cards;
There are no strings on me…
Legend
"Welcome to Hogwarts: now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates…"
Harry tuned out the rest of the speech, since he could tell a very well-rehearsed, if not repeated diatribe when he knew it; more to the point, this gave him a chance to scope out the competition, check for openings that he could use to his advantage and, now that he was back in the Magical World, he also knew one thing to the exclusion of all else.
If he was going to survive this journey, he was going to need to set up a crew.
Obviously, given his experiences with names and faces, Harry could tell many of them for who they were and what their advantages and disadvantages were.
Legend
For example, there was the beyond-annoying, not to mention bossy and overdramatic, Felicity Smoak wannabe – or maybe she was more like Iris West with how she basically flung herself into danger just to prove she was the best thing since sliced bread and gave long-winded, crappy pep talks just like Smoak – that was Miss Hermione Granger, not to mention her dunce-level-thick Cisco Ramon-fanboy-level-worthy boyfriend, Ronald Weasley – who finally looked like he'd managed to thaw out his lips, but Harry could also make out a thin sheen of pale, even bluish-coloured skin around his mouth.
He also saw the large, hulking forms of the Mick-Rory-worthy bodyguards, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, as well as their none-too-subtle Daddy's Boy, the so-called Ice Prince, Draco Malfoy, who'd probably remind Harry more of someone like whiny, jealous little Eddie Thawne or even that pompous showboater, Raymond Palmer.
Or worse, Hunter himself, seeing as how Hunter had always had a bad habit at the start of the suicide mission of reminding them he was a Time Bastard, almost as many times as Harry knew that Malfoy would preach wait until my Father hears about this.
Still…hmm…
Draco's Daddy…
Legend
Lucius Malfoy.
Now there was a guy with skill, talent and the ability to get the job done.
In many ways, he made Harry think of Harrison Wells – or, as he'd learned from a quick scan of the timeline back on the Waverider, Eobard Thawne – with how he did what he had to do to achieve his objectives, while painting the picture of a trustworthy ally that always had the knife ready, waiting and hidden.
Kind of like Harry used to have his weapon of choice ready and waiting to show people that when you were out, you're out.
Hmm…maybe…
Legend
And then, not too far from the Smoak-wannabe, there was the guy who was probably this lifetime's equivalent of the Scarlet Speedster, Barry Allen himself: Mr Neville Longbottom!
The guy everyone laughed at and looked down on, but, as Harry recalled, turned into one hell of a badass warrior, protector and friend.
Now, don't get him wrong, Harry wasn't actually looking for a Barry Allen, since he had no desires to go back to being a nice guy and, eventually, dying because some senile, megalomaniacal control freaks like the Time Bastards decided that his time had come.
If he was going to be like that, then what was the point of being reborn in the life and body of the boy with powers-undiscovered and potential-unfulfilled, unless Fate really was as evil a bitch as Savage and then some?
Legend
"We're ready for you now, follow me, please."
Snapping himself out of his train of thought, Harry accompanied the rest of the first-years into the aptly-named Great Hall where, as if on cue, Granger told everyone within earshot what she'd read about the enchanted ceiling – as though nobody else knew what Hogwarts: A History was, even though it was on the booklist – while hungry, curious and even sneering looks followed them right to the front of the hall.
Then, the Sorting Hat launched into his recent in a long line of yearly-new songs, which made Harry smile, even as the hall applauded as though they'd just witnessed the greatest show on earth.
Then, at long last, the Sorting Ceremony began and Harry watched, half-bored, half-curious, as pretty much everything played out just as he had heard it would: Granger tried to converse with the hat, Longbottom ran off still wearing the damn thing, Malfoy barely got a little taken off the top before the hat declared him a Slytherin and, finally, inevitably, McGonagall called out the name that everyone had been waiting for.
"Harry Potter?"
Striding forwards with a sense of purpose, Harry's eyes narrowed when he saw the staff eyeing him curiously and, in the case of one of them – no prizes for guessing whom – like he was looking at the scum of the earth.
A look Harry remembered being almost-permanently frozen on the face of the smug bastards who'd thought they could topple him and Mick from their pedestals as the rulers of Central City.
Of course, that was another time, but, still, Harry was looking forwards to seeing what frozen grease looked like.
As he sat under the hat, Harry closed his eyes and let his fingers rest in his lap, even as the Sorting Hat was lowered over his eyes.
Seconds later, a soft voice, edged by a note of ancient wonder and mystery, whispered in his ear…
"Well, well, well…this is an interesting turn of events…not quite Harry Potter…not the one they're expecting, anyway, but…a soul…pulled from the edge of death…and reborn as our boy-hero…hmm…I look forwards to seeing you in action, Captain Cold!"
Harry was silent.
"What?" asked the Sorting Hat, a note of surprise, if not disappointment, in his voice as he asked, "Nothing to say, Captain? No pleas for me to keep my trap shut? No threats about using your impressive new, but not-so-new power to make me hold my tongue? Not even a little barb about your plans, your goals or…wait a minute…are you…SNORING?"
To the amusement of the rest of the hall, Harry was indeed snoring his head off, albeit not as loudly as a certain Gryffindor would do; his head had dropped down, while his eyes were closed and, as everyone listened, a few of them chuckled when they heard low, soft, snoring sounds coming from under the hat.
"Potter?" asked McGonagall, causing Harry to jerk awake before he yawned expansively.
"Oh…my apologies to you all, especially this dull, monotonous piece of fabric…but, much like your History of Magic teacher, or the guy sat over my right shoulder, who is probably glaring daggers at me and mumbling about how I'm like my old man, what can I say? His voice was putting me to sleep, so…anyway…is my Sorting over? Where do you want me to go?"
"You think you're SO clever, don't you?"
"Cleverer than you, yes," drawled Harry coolly, before he smirked defiantly as he asked, "Why? What are you going to do about it?"
"SLYTHERIN!"
Dead silence gripped the hall, but Harry just shrugged.
"You know, I was kind of hoping you'd send me there," said the Boy-Who-Lived, removing the hat before he tossed it to McGonagall as he smiled like the cat that ate the canary.
"I mean, let's face it, sir…I could be great, you know: it's all here in my head and, as anyone will tell you, Slytherin will help me on the way to greatness, there's no doubt about that…and if you're one of these pussy-footing sheep who thought I'd follow dead people into Gryffindor, well…"
Here, Harry drew himself up as he smiled at his peers, many of whom had horrified looks on their faces as Harry chuckled softly.
"There are only four rules you need to remember: make the plan, execute the plan, expect the plan to go off the rails…throw away the plan!"
Not for the first time in the saga of Harry Potter did anyone have even the slightest clue about what he was referring to…
Chapter 2 and, come on, let's be honest with ourselves: where else would Captain Cold have wound up? Talk about an open-and-shut case, but now he's on the road to greatness, what's next for the Boy-Who-Lived?
Also, with knowledge of events to come under his belt, what sort of fun might the one, true Ice Prince of the Snake Pit have with the world that, in a time well known to fans, basically screwed the hero out of all he deserved and more, while others got to take centre-stage and turn him into a pawn?
Keep Reading to Find Out
Next Chapter: The so-called big dogs get a crash course in going up against this Ice-breathing dragon; also, Harry has some splaining to do, both about his remarks concerning Gryffindor and his feelings about being in Slytherin...wow, and here he was thinking there wasn't a Time Bastard equivalent in here; guess he forgot about Mr Twinkles the Greater-Good worshipper...
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