Fly On The Wall, Snake In The Grass

by DZ2

Harry Potter, The Twice-Blessed Half-Blood Response: When Harry turned thirteen, he lost his temper in a big way, but his emotions weren't the only things released. A very old, dark secret has now come to light: one that gives Harry a desire to claim all he truly is. Dark/Evil OP Harry/Harem; Dark/Evil Fem-Percy/Luke; SERIOUS AU

2. The Boy Who Returned

Fly On The Wall, Snake In The Grass

Disclaimer/Plot/Challenge Information/Author's Note: SEE FIRST CHAPTER

Recommended Reads: Harry Potter, Squatter by Enterprise1701-d, Harry Potter, Dark Legacy by The Fallen One 2012, The Son of Storms by PerseusPeverell092, Harry Potter: The Demigod Who Lived by DGJabberwocky, Damaged Raven, Apex and Dark Lord Potter by JustBored21, Harry Potter and the Potter Grimoire by IamZerokun, The Rise of the Last Potter by HPfanfictioner66, Child of the Storm, Ghosts of the Past and The Phoenix and the Serpent by Nimbus Llewelyn, A god's love by LovableOkie and Worthy of Magic by Raul Fictitious

Key Pairing: Harry/Harem; Female-Percy/Luke;

Other Pairings: To be determined

Normal Speech

'Thoughts'

'Mental Speech'

/Parseltongue/

Review Answers:

BROMBROS: Thanks for pointing that out: I went back and changed it…enjoy the next chapter;

"It's the boy's house," said Arabella, earning horrified looks from both Dumbledore and McGonagall, while Arabella swallowed hard as she looked right into the Headmaster's eyes as she let out a cry of horror and pain.

"The house…no…the whole street…all of it…I…I don't know how, but…but I could swear…it's all just been destroyed…by an Obscurus!"

Chapter 2: The Boy Who Returned

Fear,

This seemed to be the order of the day, more for Hermione Granger than the ever-loud, ever-tactless and ever-dull-and-boringly-repetitive – not to mention predictable – redheaded nitwit named Ronald Weasley. Indeed, the question that seemed to follow Hermione all the way from The Leaky Cauldron to King's Cross Station was one she asked herself for quite some time that day.

'Just what in the name of Madness am I doing accompanying the Weasleys to King's Cross anyway? Especially without…him.'

If he wasn't staying at the Cauldron, Hermione couldn't really understand what – apart from Mrs Weasley's demand that she stay – had kept her in the company of the redheaded brood in the last week of a summer that had all but turned into chaos with the news they'd received.

Like so many others – well, Hermione guessed there were others, given who she was thinking about – Hermione had been reliably informed, just after July 31st, of how the street known as Privet Drive had been found laid to waste by person or persons unknown.

Naturally, the Muggles there called it a terrorist attack, which led many conspiracy theorists to wonder exactly why a dull, monotonous street in the middle of suburban nowhere was even targeted by the terrorists in the first place.

On the magical side of it, however, there was a much different story: the only reason Hermione even knew that the street had been decimated in the first place was because of an emergency meeting that was arranged by none other than Albus Dumbledore.

A meeting, in which, he dropped the biggest bombshell of the summer on them.

Harry Potter was missing!

Fly/Snake

Even as she made her way towards the barrier, trying to put as much distance as she could between the loud matriarch and her heavily-distracted husband, Hermione could still remember the sound of Mrs Weasley's wailing cries following the Headmaster's announcement, while she could also remember the look of worry, if not dread, which had crossed Mr Weasley's face.

'What a difference a month can make,' thought Hermione, wincing at the obnoxiously-loud sound of Molly shrieking for her children and husband to keep up, before she actually yelled for Hermione to slow down and do as she was told.

'Who does she think she is? My Mother?' wondered Hermione, scowling darkly as she neared the barrier, 'That might work on Harry, not that you give him much choice, you banshee wannabe, but some of us do have parents and families and, guess what? They don't concern you!'

Smiling at the private thought that crossed her mind, Hermione then recalled how Fred and George had spent most of the weeks in the run up to the penultimate week of the summer holidays doing what they could to lift Hermione's spirits.

Then, when everyone met up in the Cauldron, the Twins had let her vent, sharing her worries and fears for her lost friend.

As for Ginny, she did seem troubled, if not saddened by Harry's disappearance, though Hermione soon discovered – thanks to the Twins – that the only reason she was so distressed was because, apparently, this was the year Harry was safe to approach and make her boyfriend.

And, speaking of safe and delusions, the Twins had also reliably informed Hermione – though she had no idea how they pulled off their little spy game without alerting their family to their presence or movements – that, like Ginny, Ronald was also starting to come up with all kinds of one-track-minded ideas about how he was going to, in his words, enjoy practicing with Hermione before he made her his little bitch.

This was just one of the reasons that Hermione tried to put as much distance between herself and the magpie-minded flock – sans the Twins, since they seemed to be the only Weasleys who genuinely cared, not only about Harry, but his feelings and Hermione's friendship with him too – as she reached the stone pillar.

She was nobody's bitch, just like Harry was nobody's meal ticket.

Just because the magpies – more like vultures, as Hermione found herself thinking – were circling, looking to pick the bones clean and dine on Harry's remains, it didn't mean they were going to win.

Wherever Harry was, Hermione only hoped he was, indeed, safe and that he would be able to cheat these one-sided friends sooner rather than later, leaving them to eat their own words and dine on crow before too long.

Fly/Snake

If only she knew just how right she was, Hermione might have suddenly turned into a miniature version of Bellatrix Lestrange with how loudly she would crow at the thought of Harry's impending victory.

Fly/Snake

"Finally!"

Even though she had a soft spot for two of the brood, Hermione couldn't resist letting out an exasperated cry as she passed through the barrier and swapped the tactless noise of Molly Weasley's loud voice – all the while wondering how someone like that could even shout so loud and not get in trouble for endangering the Statute of Secrecy – for the familiar hustle and bustle and assorted commotion of the Hogwarts Express, as well as the men, women and children gathered on Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters.

Without a shrieking harpy trying to deafen her, or a delirious idiot trying to get way above his average and go beyond his league, Hermione was able to breathe, while she also took a moment to look up and examine the platform, hoping for even as much as a flash of raven-black hair, or even emerald-green eyes, a glint of white, snowy owl feathers or even a glimpse of a lightning-bolt scar.

Anything that might convince her to lay her fears to rest long enough to…

"Hello, Hermione."

Suddenly, Hermione's heart skipped a beat as she heard a soft, but all-too familiar voice speak to her.

Before she could turn to face them, however, her eyes widened when, all of a sudden, she found herself no longer standing on the platform waiting for the sign she hoped for. Instead, she was now sitting in a plush-looking variation of the Hogwarts Express' travelling compartments, which even had a cosy-looking table set between the two rows of seats – one either side of said table.

The window, as well as the glass pane looking out into the carriage, had already been shut and the blinds rolled down, keeping the interior cosy and even somewhat-liveable while, as Hermione looked around, trying to get her bearings, she was a little confused to notice something she didn't expect to see on the Hogwarts Express.

Apart from herself, there was a taller, somewhat-gangly-looking man, who was leaning against the corner of the compartment, his cloak pulled up over him like a blanket. On the table between him and where Hermione was sitting, an empty bottle of lemonade was set against the window, while a few candy wrappers were strewn across the table, along with a notepad and, to her surprise, an already-opened copy of The Standard Book of Spells Chapter Three.

And there, sitting before the book, one arm resting on the table while the other seemed to scan its pages with a mixture of hunger and, apparently, calm satisfaction, was a healthy-looking teenager with the wildest, craziest-styled head of raven-black hair that she had ever seen. He also didn't wear glasses anymore, which meant Hermione could see his cool, but bright, emerald-green eyes poring over the pages of the book.

In one hand, the youth held a white-wood wand, which he seemed content to twirl like a baton while, as he used one hand to turn the page of his book, he then smiled and looked up, revealing a tanned face and forehead that, to Hermione's surprise, even had a much-more-faded lightning-bolt-shaped mark on his crown.

"Did you miss me?"

"H-H-H-Harry?" asked Hermione, part of her wanting to scream herself hoarse at the sight of her wayward friend and companion, but the other part of her kept her peace, seeing as how there was someone else in the compartment, who not only seemed to be sleeping, but, judging by his elder appearance and physique, Hermione also assumed he was the newest Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor – seeing as how that was the only vacancy at Hogwarts…again!

"In the flesh," replied Harry, before he set his wand down and, sliding along the edge of the table, he moved around to the seat next to Hermione where, to her surprise, Harry then closed his eyes, adopting a peaceful, serene look before he said, "Go on, then: do it."

"Do…what?" asked Hermione.

"Hit me," said Harry, earning a surprised look from Hermione, which only grew more surprised when Harry didn't open his eyes, but rather, he continued, as though he'd either sensed or predicted her shocked expression. "I know I deserve it: a whole summer, more or less, without so much as a letter, much less a phone call…well, one that wouldn't make me want to wish that the Earth would open up and swallow me whole, because the caller's so thick that he can't even ask his No-Maj-obsessed Dad about how to use a telephone in the first place."

Silently, Hermione agreed with him there, especially since she knew what a terrible idea, not to mention result, Ronald's half-assed excuse for a phone call to Little Whinging had been.

She was glad that Harry was all right, though, even if…

"Wait…hang on a minute…" said Hermione, earning a flicker of an amused-looking smirk from Harry as the girl frowned, "Did…did you just call them…No-Majs? Not…not Muggles?"

"Noticed that, did you?" asked Harry, earning a dumbfounded look from Hermione as he added, "And, FYI, from now on, I don't even consider you a Muggle-born, Hermione, but rather, a First-Gen…or New-blood, to use an olden day's term, so I hope you won't mind me calling you that."

"Uh…n-no…no, that…that's okay," said Hermione, still surprised at how calmly Harry was speaking to her, not to mention the fact that he still had his eyes closed; he wasn't even flinching in pre-emptive anticipation of her smacking him.

Even more curiously, Hermione found that she didn't want to hit him, even though she had been worried for him…terrified, even.

All she wanted to do…was exactly what she did as, before she could stop herself, or anyone else could intervene, Hermione grabbed Harry and hugged the life out of him, burying her head into his robes, as though she needed to inhale his scent – which she silently noted was surprisingly-clean for a teenage boy…well, especially when compared to other teenage boys she'd spent the past week with – to believe it was really, truly, undeniably and reliably him.

However, as Hermione proceeded to take in great lungfuls of Harry's scent, she gasped suddenly when she felt him wrap his arms around her, before he pressed his nose to her messy hair as he kissed her forehead before, in a soft, reassuring tone, he whispered in her ear.

"I'm sorry…really, Mia, I am. You have no idea how much it annoyed me…hell, it pissed me off, not being able to tell my best friend that I was not only alive, but safe and, with each passing day, becoming more and more the wizarding scion that I know you've always believed I could be. I wasn't even allowed to send Hedwig to you, and I really wanted to, even if she wound up coming back with a Howler from you, I'd have taken it."

The sincerity of his voice surprised Hermione, as did the oddly-affectionate nickname that Harry used when he spoke to her – and, judging by how hearing it made her heart race while she fidgeted nervously in his grip, how much she liked hearing it…as in like-liked hearing it – but, as she lifted her head from his robes, she saw he was smiling as he cocked his head to one side again.

"So…does this mean you don't want to hit me?"

"No," said Hermione, earning a soft smile from Harry, which made her feel really warm inside, while she also saw him pull away from her as he sighed softly, before he moved back to where he'd been sitting when she appeared in the compartment.

As she watched him, Hermione frowned as she asked, "But…Harry…what…what happened to you? I mean, you…you look so much better…I mean; not to sound like Ronald, but…to use an old exclamation…holy cricket: looking good, Harry!"

"Feeling good, Hermione," replied Harry, closing his book – though not before he marked the page with a bookmark that, to Hermione's curiosity, had a strange, five-pointed-star-shaped symbol at the top of it – before he looked up at her as he explained, "And…well…as much as I wish I could give you the details about where I've been and what's going on with me, I…I can't…not yet, anyway."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione, earning another sigh from Harry before he fixed her with a stare that, if she was being brutally honest with herself, chilled Hermione to the bone.

Though not as much as the air of foreboding coldness that seemed to lace Harry's words as he answered her question, "If you know what I know you want to know right now, and someone I don't want to know too many things about me gets in your head, or compels you to spill the beans, it'll put my in even greater danger than I've ever been at Hogwarts…which, given the fact I've been killed, so to speak, by a Basilisk, nearly decapitated by a giant troll and hunted like prey by a nest of Acromantulas…is really saying something."

"I…I'd never betray you, Harry," argued Hermione, again fighting an urge to repeat herself by saying she was nothing like a certain redheaded magpie with delusions of grandeur.

Harry, on the other hand, nodded as he replied, "I know that and you know that, but, in order to protect you, as well as myself, I have to be absolutely sure of it, Hermione; so, for now, please…just trust me…I won't shut you out and I'm glad you're able to look past the fear I know you must have felt when you heard about Little Whinging, but…please, Hermione; if I only ever ask it of you this once…please, trust me."

As Hermione opened her mouth to speak again, her heart suddenly turned cold when, without warning, she felt as though she was being drawn into the web of those words, like a fly being caught by a particularly-hungry spider.

In this dazed mode, she swallowed lightly as she replied in a dreamy voice, "I…I trust you, Harry…always…"

"Thanks," said Harry, leaning back in his seat, before he added, "Oh, and to answer your next question, the man next to me is Remus Lupin: he's an old friend of my family and our new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. Don't mind him snoozing; he told me he's got a funny, but also bad habit of sleeping on long journeys…unless he's the one driving, anyway."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh, before Harry then looked at her with that oddly-chilling, but also comforting stare of his, which was accompanied by a small, almost-amused smile that he gave her as he leaned forwards, taking her hand in his as he looked into her eyes.

"Don't worry."

"Huh?" asked Hermione.

Harry's next words, however, made her heart stop and leap in excitement at the same time as he winked at her playfully before he answered her;

"Ronald and Ginevra, and their banshee bitch of a Mother, can try to control my destiny, but, trust me, when it comes to this game of chess, I've already got them in checkmate…now, how was the rest of your summer? Tell me about France…oh, and the first chance I get, do me a favour and remind me to buy those two handsome bastards of Gryffindor Demon Origins a thank-you gift for looking after my Mia, won't you, love?"

Even as she went on to talk about France, as well as everything she'd learned over the holidays, Hermione couldn't resist blushing at the warm, affectionate way that Harry talked about her.

Though she was also surprised by the strong-willed, playful, if not oddly-flirtatious way he referred to the Twins.

This left her asking herself a question, even as the Hogwarts Express finally rolled out of King's Cross Station.

'What on earth happened to you this summer, Harry?"

Chapter 2 and I find myself agreeing with Hermione: what on earth has happened to Harry?

How is it he seems stronger, happier, more-confident and so certain of his victory over those who seem intent to make a meal ticket out of him and those who he cares most about?

Keep Reading to Find Out

Next Chapter: Harry's found the Best…now, he has to deal with the Rest: fortunately, as we've already seen, he isn't going into this fight with rose-coloured glasses, which is more than can be said for the dunce, his slapper sister and their overcompensating matriarch; also, Hermione gets a better look at what happened to Harry…all thanks to an unexpected encounter on the train;

Please Read and Review