I don't own Harry Potter. You know the drill by now.
For people who enjoy my stories, thank you. However, if you don't like my writing, my pacing, or my general stories then the solution is simple - don't bother reading them and telling me my stories are shit. I don't care if my Harry Potter stories are cliche - there are no original stories anymore, the ideas have been done over and over again until they are worn down. This also goes to reviewers who haven't even written a story in their lives. I think its amazing people like that feel they have the right to spread nasty criticism and say what authors should do and what they shouldn't and they haven't even written anything.
Aside from that, please enjoy.
The Treasure Hunter.
The students had begun boarding the Hogwarts express. It was twenty to eleven, so the station was quite packed with students of all ages, and through the open window of the Hogwarts express noise entered all of the compartments of children crying and parents talking with their older children, and owls hooting and crooning and cats yowling.
In one of the compartments was someone many of them either revered or hated. Harry peered out of the window of his - so far - empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express, watching as the students started boarding the train.
He had been on the train for over an hour already after getting to Kings Cross much earlier than the others, but since he had made sure he had stayed in a hotel quite close to the mainline station which he had stayed in for only a fortnight ever since he had returned home after his trip to the Caribbean which had given him the time he had needed to grab his school supplies and to put some of the things he had taken from the Caribbean Sea into his mother's vault for safekeeping although he had sold a few of the others, using the money to buy new novels and some clothes.
Thanks to booking himself into a hotel so close to the station, it had only taken him a few minutes to grab something for breakfast and find some extra food to take on the trip up to Scotland. True, he knew one of his minders would try to take some of it, but Harry didn't mind. He had used the hour to read one of the novels he had purchased.
He wasn't sure about Pandora's Star just yet, but the sci-fi novel by Peter F. Hamilton was fascinating in its own way, and it showed a version of the future which he actually hoped happened. He had seen more than his own fair share of novel ideas where everything was the same, with spaceships capable of travelling faster than light or not going beyond the boundaries of the solar system to make the story truly interesting which he'd taken from the synopsis on the back although he hadn't read it all the way through just yet, so it was good to read about a science fiction world where travel to other worlds was no different to stepping onto a Tube train and riding to a new place. He had been so engrossed in his new novel, he had been startled when he had heard the noises of his fellow students.
He watched as they the older ones just said goodbye to their families, loading their trunks and cages with their owls or cats through the open doors before they stepped onboard themselves, and he watched as the much younger kids cried and they held onto their own families. Muggle or magical, it didn't seem to really matter, although there were a few Pureblood families he noticed who appeared to be more reserved.
He had to stamp down the jealousy he had felt when he had watched a little girl, a first-year by the look of her, hug her mother so tightly and looking like she had no desire whatsoever to let go, bawling her eyes out. While he had his mother's memories in his head, Harry wished he had the woman herself in his life, and he blamed Dumbledore, Voldemort, and everyone else for taking her away.
Harry checked his watch again. Ten minutes to go, and still no sign of the Weasley family or Granger. He was surprised by Granger's tardiness, but he guessed the Weasley clan had rubbed off on her, more for worse than for better. Personally, Harry couldn't care one little bit if the lot of them were late, or if they missed the train. It would serve them right. It could be avoided if they actually got themselves organised until they chucked everything into the trunks at the last minute, but since he knew the younger Weasley's and Granger were spying on him and holding him back from truly becoming a wizard, he couldn't help but spitefully wish something nasty happened to them. Harry still was not sure about the majority of the family, but he treated them neutrally. He could not understand why they simply didn't get organised two days beforehand so then when the day came their things would be packed up and ready, and all they'd need to do was to have breakfast and put on their clothes and head for the station.
But then again no-one said the Weasleys' were really smart. Sure, while the twins and Ginny were smart, they had been stifled by their bitch of a mother. It was tragic, really; the twins and their older brothers and their little sister were smart and hardworking, but it was clear their careers had been chosen just to get them away from Molly Weasley and her influence.
The twins were the worst - Harry knew that despite their bullying the twins were smart, inventive and intuitive, and he could imagine their pranks, while far from amusing, were actually their way of expressing their intellect. Unfortunately, Molly refused to encourage them and make them channel their creative energies into making them do something positive. Instead, her idea of encouragement which involved telling them they would be going to work for the Ministry, which was a waste in itself since the Ministry was not the type of place minds like theirs would flourish unless there was something creative attached to it, was bullying them into submission.
Result?
Now the twins spent all their time playing their pranks with no real ideas of how to grow on their own. The rest of the Weasley clan was similar; Harry knew thanks to looking into Percy's brown-nosing mind the third oldest Weasley wanted to get away from Molly as soon as he could. While Harry thought Percy needed to get a life and perhaps get laid, he respected the third eldest Weasley kid because Percy had managed to get himself work and then later, summer jobs ever since he had started Hogwarts, and he saved what he could. He really wanted to get out of the Burrow, and after spending a few weeks there himself, Harry could not blame him.
Ron and Ginny, on the other hand….
Actually, he wasn't sure about Ginny, but he was sure the little slut who was already making eyes at other boys in some stupid, desperate act to make him jealous even though Harry really was not interested in her, but he was positive Ginny knew her future did not lie in living in the Burrow for the rest of her life.
Ron was the opposite. For someone who moaned and made speeches about his life, boasting how he was going to make it big in Quidditch, Harry could not see any sign of growth in Ron. He was lazy, dull, and he was happy to let his mother just baby him like he was still a little kid without any kind of thought.
Harry shook his head, dismissing all thoughts of the Weasley family from his mind, and he returned to his reading.
The train was just about to move when the Weasley clan arrived, the blustering form of Molly Weasley in the league as she directed her brood onto the train. Harry lifted his eyes to study his watch, and he closed his eyes in irritation. Two minutes to eleven. He looked back again at the sight of the redheaded league who were boarding the train, ignoring the equally frustrated looks thrown their way by the train crew. Harry palmed the handle of his wand, tempted to cast a few spells to stop the Weasley's and Granger from getting in and or noticing his presence in this compartment to get some peace and quiet, but he decided against it since he had a mask to maintain. Harry sighed and checked his watch, counting down the minutes.
The train had been chugging away for seven minutes by his count by the time Ron and Hermione appeared, both appearing out of breath.
"There you are!" Hermione snapped, her mood testy from the run to the train, although she snapped a glare at Ron, which the redhead ignored.
"Hello to you, too," Harry read the glare for what it was; clearly the Weasley's had been running late, but Ron had been the worst of the lot, and he had held the lot of them back. He returned to his novel, hoping they took the hint he wasn't in the mood.
"Why didn't you try to find us, Mate?" Ron sat down.
Why should I? "Too comfortable," Harry didn't look up from his book.
Hermione didn't like being ignored. "We were hoping to see you at the World Cup. Where were you?" She demanded.
"I was tempted," Harry lied, knowing the pair of them would be suspicious at his sudden turn of attitude given how everyone assumed he loved Quidditch, when in fact he loathed the sport. It was just a dick measuring contest at Hogwarts; while there was no doubt in his head its introduction into the school's culture had been done with the greatest of intentions, it had just become another competition among the houses and made the rivalry between them much worse. In any case, at the end of the decade, what did it matter which House won the Quidditch Cup year by year? "However I wanted to go travelling."
"Travelling? Why would you want to go travelling for, mate?" Weasley asked in confusion, clearly unable to work out why anyone would choose to travel rather than watch a Quidditch match.
"I've been thinking about travelling for a bit for a long time," Harry said truthfully, "it was a treat."
"Where did you get the money?" Hermione asked suspiciously.
Harry had been waiting for this particular question for a while now. He had no intention of telling anyone the money had come from some of his burglaries, so he'd come up with an excuse. "From my trust vault," he answered, putting a stronger emphasis on his words which anyone with a brain in their skulls would know this was a subject to be dropped. Unfortunately, he knew these two well.
Harry watched their reactions. Ron's face went red and the familiar, touchy look of jealousy entered his face, but Harry ignored him. It was not his fault the Potters hadn't squandered their money on trivia the way the Weasley's had, but he also felt a spark of sadistic joy. He knew the Weasley's had plans for him and his family fortune, but if they thought he was going to bite then they would be in for a shock.
"You shouldn't have used that money for a holiday, Harry," Hermione chided. "You weren't safe!"
Thankful the book gave him something concrete to focus on, Harry had to clamp down on his occlumency barriers to help him calm down. "I wanted a break," he replied evenly. "I wanted to get out of this country, see a bit of this planet and experience culture somewhere else. I don't see the problem. And as for my safety, how could I be in danger if no-one knew where I was."
It was slightly petty, he knew, but he was frankly tired of their attitudes and how they all seemed to view him as a clueless child even if his actions and everything he had been through was ignored.
Hermione looked surprised he was speaking back to her, but she quickly recovered. "That's not the point, Harry. You were at risk, you should have told someone that you were going abroad."
"Tell who?" Harry asked mildly.
"Why, Professor Dumbledore, of course," Hermione looked surprised he even needed to ask.
"Professor Dumbledore is not my guardian, Hermione," Harry said mildly. "I told the foster home, but I don't see why I need to tell my school headmaster about my holiday plans."
"You need to tell him because you are important," Hermione said briefly, although she quickly back-peddled before she could say too much. "He cares about your welfare, you should tell him everything!"
Harry lifted a brow at the brief reply, wondering if Granger knew about the prophecy. However, he had never bothered to find out if they did know. He would have to change that soon. "I am not telling a schoolteacher what my holiday plans are, and I am not going to do that with you either," Harry said pointedly at them both, only just holding back showing his contempt.
He was also deeply frustrated that this girl seemed to think he couldn't go anywhere without her around to hold his hand. Her attitude was one of the many reasons why Harry was thankful he had mastered occlumency, otherwise she would have been sent home in a box. Harry could understand and accept the fact the girl had been suffering from a lack of friends growing up, but he wondered if it was because she had done to them what she was doing now to himself and Weasley. But that did not give her the right to poke her nose into his affairs.
Unfortunately, Granger didn't seem to know when to take the hint. "But you should have told him, suppose something had happened-."
"Like what?" Harry asked, inwardly impressed by how even his voice was. His answering her back took her by surprise, and he noted a glimmer of anger in her eyes before it was gone. He smirked inwardly although he was prepared for a fight. Granger did not like being questioned or contradicted and since he had answered her back he expected her to lash out at him. If she did then he would put her in his place.
"Harry," Hermione began again after taking a moment to cool herself down, "there were Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup. Supposing they found out where you were-?'
"Oh, shut up!" Harry snapped, deciding he'd had enough, and he let some of his anger bleed out into his voice. "Slow down and stop using your mouths to think for a change. Give your brains a chance to function, eh? How can I be in any danger from the Death Eaters if I take steps to ensure I won't be found? In any case, they can't exactly leave Britain, can they?"
"W-what do you mean?" Weasley asked, just as astounded as Granger at his anger.
Harry needed a moment to rein in his temper, annoyed at himself for lashing out at them even if he knew it was justified since he was tired of their prying into his life as if it was their right to do so. But he needed to calm down otherwise he made some stupid mistake he could never undo.
"It's because of Barty Crouch," he explained. "He was the Head of the DMLE in the last war. He gave the Ministries of different countries the magical signatures of known Death Eaters when they were on the rise. Unlike the British Ministry, the other countries had learnt from their mistakes after Grindelwald, who'd caused a greater amount of damage. The Ministries of Europe did not want another Dark Lord actively recruiting or causing devastation on their own turf. Crouch gave it to them, more out of spite than anything else. Apparently, he was pissed off and frustrated he had to let some of them off, so he handed the information over without batting an eyelid. He might have been callous, but Crouch did them a favour.
"Many Death Eaters, from what I've learnt, was captured by the Aurors of those countries. They have never returned. As a result, the surviving Death Eaters refuse to even leave Britain's shores. Each time they do, they are instantly intercepted and detained for hours. They're questioned about their reasons for entering the country, what they are doing, how long they going to be there, the list goes on and on. From what I've heard, a few Death Eaters returned to Britain because their plans for holidays were foiled."
"But they could have gone to the Caribbean," Hermione pointed out, still sore at having been snapped at. "It's not in Europe."
"It does not matter," Harry countered. "Okay, if they found out I had left Britain I would be worried, but since they would have no idea where I was, they wouldn't risk it. They have spent so long believing their kings of their own little fiefdoms in this country, the Ministry letting them get away with literal murder. Abroad it's a different story, so they don't even try to go out. And besides, if I travelled to say America or one of the countries in Asia, the Death Eaters would not get away with as much."
With that, Harry resumed his reading. He had just reached the end of the first chapter, where the mission to Mars had just encountered the first wormhole linking Earth to the Red planet, effectively making space travel obsolete.
Hermione sat back in her seat, glowering at him. "What are you reading?"
Harry sighed mentally but he held up the novel to show her the title.
"Pandora's Star?" Weasley read the title. "Never heard of it."
"Of course you wouldn't. It's a muggle science fiction novel."
"Why are you reading it?" Hermione asked.
"I am interested in science fiction," Harry replied, hoping the girl would shut her mouth. He could already hear in her tone her annoyance he was daring to read a book in her presence. That was another thing that annoyed him about the girl; she seemed to think just because she could read, only she had the right to do so. Nobody else. It never failed to amaze him she was so hypocritical - she harassed everyone into studying and yet she threw tantrums whenever they scored better than her, and she hated seeing other people reading. It was madness.
If she tried anything now with his novel, he would forget everything and murder her. But luckily she didn't, and she settled down while he read the novel. When he was finished with the second chapter of the novel, he put it back in his trunk and took out a copy of HG Well's The Invisible Man.
"Another book, mate?" Weasley gaped at him.
Harry nodded.
"You're turning into a right little bookworm," Weasley's expression turned red and jealous, but Harry tuned them out and read as the titular character arrived in the village of Iping. He didn't know what was the cause of Weasley's current jealousy this time, especially since this was a novel, not a spellbook, but after knowing him for a good few years, Harry had learnt the redheaded dick usually got pissed off at the drop of a hat.
Of course, Malfoy appeared. He opened the compartment door with his usual sneer and his bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle behind him. "Ah, found you at last Potter!"
"Get lost Malfoy!" Weasley shouted, making Harry close his eyes, wondering what it was about the redheads that made them have volcanic tempers in the first place.
However, Malfoy dismissed Weasley's very presence - it seemed that Malfoy had discovered that Weasley liked being the centre of attention as much as he did himself, so he had taken to ignoring the redhead, much to the hotheaded boy's ire.
"Are you going to enter, Potter?" Malfoy asked in that sneering, rodent-like manner Harry had long since wanted to wipe off the face of the Earth for the good of magical and human evolution. "A glory hound like you must be itching to compete for more fame. Merlin knows your big head must desire more," he laughed as if he had just told the funniest joke imaginable.
Harry put down his book and gave the blond twat a lazy stare, inwardly wondering what Malfoy was on about. "What the fuck are you talking about?" He asked.
Malfoy's face lit up smugly. "You don't know?" He laughed. "My father heard it from the Minister of Magic himself. I thought you would know since you're friends with the Weasels. But wait, why weren't you at the Quidditch World Cup?"
Harry rolled his eyes. Was he really going to have to endure this never-ending questioning forever? "What's it got to do with you? I don't always have to watch a Quidditch match, do I? Now, fuck off and leave us in peace."
"Don't speak to me, your better, that way, Potter!" Malfoy's expression turned dark with anger.
"I will speak to you however I like. And as for you being my better… how are you better? Your grades are crap, your sex life is sub-par, you have no discernible talent, you threaten people with your daddy like you're a braindead five-year-old kid whenever you don't get what you want or if they look at you the wrong way, so you can't be my better," Harry snapped back, pulling one of his wands out while making sure it wasn't his custom wand. "Now fuck off!"
Malfoy's pale face whitened even more when he saw the wand in Harry's hands. The blond remembered only too well what happened the last time he'd antagonised Harry, it had resulted in a nasty fight which Malfoy himself had started, and it had resulted in him being in the hospital wing for a fortnight. Of course, his father and Professor Snape had tried to have Potter punished, but the arrogant Gryffindor had gone over their heads somehow, providing evidence that Malfoy had started it.
Potter had been given detention by Snape, but Potter had refused to go. It was something that still rankled the blond Slytherin even more.
Malfoy stared at Potter, holding back the urge to swallow out of terror at the eerie green eyes glaring at him with malevolent intent. Swallowing his pride, Malfoy turned to his clueless bodyguards. "Let's go."
Once the three irritating Slytherins walked out of the compartment, Harry flicked his wand at the door to lock it, saying the incantation after reminding himself he was still in the company of two people spying on him and trying to hold him back, they'd be bound to tell Dumbledore about his use of advanced magic.
"That was bloody brilliant," Weasley grinned.
Harry grunted, inwardly wondering about the meeting with Malfoy. The blond knew something. He knew it could be an elaborate lie, but Harry knew Malfoy didn't have the intelligence to come up with anything truly imaginative or elaborate. He also doubted Lucius had come up with it, either. If the elder Malfoy had the desire to do that then he'd have done it long ago.
Hermione was less content. "You're going to be in trouble for that, Harry," she said.
"If I am, I am," Harry replied, returning to reading his book.
