Prologue: School Starts Again
Drumming his fork against his plate, Ron once again voiced his thoughts on how the sorting should be done with only the first years after the feast; thus allowing everyone else the precious time they needed to consume mass quantities of various food items. Again, Harry had to listen as Hermione sighed in annoyance, stating the ever obvious fact that the sorting was an essential part of the Hogwarts tradition, to which Ron rolled his eyes, favoring to once again ignore her comments and continue his pitiful whining. Smirking at their antics, Harry continued to dutifully listen to the sorting ceremony ignoring his own hunger pangs in favor of actually enjoying the commencements.
Looking around his House table as the sorting continued, Harry noticed how everyone seemed to change. All the boys seemed to have shot up from their young prepubescent heights and now had the looks of strapping young men of a healthy stature. The girls had grown as well from their awkward undeveloped stage into attractive female bodies. Blushing in embarrassment at his own five foot frame, Harry wondered when he would grow. Everyone was taller than him, some by a good foot.
Ron had shot up to a whopping six foot, building muscles over his entire frame during the rigorous and all time consuming practice for the quidditch team, of which he was adamant he would join this year. His hair had grown out to just brush the length of his jaw, tracing delicately down his strong features; his freckles were few and far in between. The ones he did have only added to his looks. His brown eyes sparkled in mischief and amusement, with an air of confidence surrounding him. These noticeable differences drew attention from both the male and female population.
The ever present book was still with Hermione, but it seemed to be quite toned down. Yes, the book was still quite thick, but she didn't have her nose stuck in it, giving a rather nice few of her beautiful face. Her eyes lit up as she talked with Parvarti and Lavender, something she normally wouldn't do. Chuckling at something one of the gossip queens said, Harry noticed that she had a radiant smile that seemed to light the room. Her hair had grown to about elbow length, becoming soft in texture and more manageable as it was weighed down. Standing at a rather impressive five foot ten, she had a rather lovely body. There were curves in all the right places.
Sighing again, Harry wondered if this is what normally fifteen year olds were suppose to look like, or were the fates just conspiring against him? He wished that he had grew over the summer, knowing that his stature would get him razzed all year round by people like the good natured, joker of Gryffindor, Seamus Finnigan, and the snobbish, 'better-than-thou-art' Slytherin, Draco Malfoy. Oh sure, others were bound to join in, but these two would be the worst. The only other person that Harry worried about was Professor Severus Snape. Ever since he had met the man, he had seemed to have it in for him. Come on now, Harry understood grudges, but why hold one against a fifteen year old boy because of something the father he never knew did? This was something that Harry would never understand about the man. He went around, swooping like a bat out of Hell, making his life as difficult as possible, trying to get him expelled at every turn, just to save his life multiple times. Harry had never even thanked the man. Now, it's not that he didn't want to. No. It's just that he didn't know how. No matter how many times he tried to do just that, he'd freeze, something else would come up, or his Gryffindor courage would up and run out on him. The man just made him feel so inadequate.
Jumping in alarm when the food appeared, Harry had blushed yet again. Giving a nervous chuckle and grin to those looking at him, he dug in, no way nearing the fervor that Ron was admitting. Watching in wide eyes fascination at the mass and bulk of food the red head ate, Harry wondered where it all went. It was truly an amazing sight; one that he had never seen anyone else be able to pull off. Sure, the other Weasley males could pack it in, but nothing like Ron. Harry sometimes wondered if he had more than one stomach. Shaking his head, Harry dug into his meager helpings, ignoring Hermione's cursory glances and warning stares. Noticing the girls quickly rising agitation, Harry excused himself to the bathroom faking an upset stomach. He didn't want to deal with the girl's questions; they were annoying. She shouldn't be prying into his life anyway. It wasn't really that big a deal. So what, he didn't have a big appetite. It would grow as the year went along; that's how it always was. Why did she have to make this year any different than the others? Sure, the Dursleys didn't come close enough to feeding him the quantity of food he needed, nor did they give him a proper place to stay, or fitting close, but he could deal. Cringing at those thoughts, Harry vowed that he would never tell Hermione or Ron that he had been moved back into the cupboard under the stairs. They were liable to blow the school up in their anger, murder the Dursleys, and end up in Azkaban, and he wasn't worth the trouble.
Splashing some cold water on his face, Harry looked up into his reflection, dully noting the dark circles under his eyes and his unhealthy parlor. The severe lack of sunlight had really done a number to Harry's once healthy tan, leaving him pale and sickly looking. His white skin could rival Snape's in color. He couldn't believe that the Dursleys hadn't let him out of his cupboard the entire summer, preferring to do all the chores themselves than to let a 'murderer' do them. He couldn't understand how they thought he could have killed anybody. It wasn't his fault that Cedric died. It was an unfortunate accident due to uncontrollable circumstances; nothing more. He also didn't understand why no matter how many times he told people that he was all right, that he knew it wasn't his fault, no one seemed to believe him. They would all get this pitying look in their eyes and talk in simpering voices as though he were a demented child who was crying out for his long dead parents.
Come on Harry! Keep it together! You can't loose your cool on the first day of school. Sure, you had absolutely no contact from your 'friends' over the summer. So what your only family completely ignored your existence all summer long, leaving you to your cold, distant thoughts. Why should that bother you? You're use to being alone. Buck up. Pull it together! Firmly getting his resolve together, Harry smile ruefully at his own reflection, sticking his tongue out as though he were a child who had just conquered an obstacle.
Looking down at his watch, Harry quickly made his way back into the Great Hall; it was time to lead the first years to the dorms. "First years! Follow me please! Keep up." He could already hear Hermione leading them away. Grabbing his prefects pin from his pocket, Harry quickly and sloppily pinned it in place on his robes, jogging to catch up with the group, apologizing as he bumped his way to the front of the line to stand with Hermione. "That was sweet of you, Harry. But, I don't need your help. Honestly."
Cocking his head to the side in wonderment, Harry said, "What in the world do you mean?" He honestly had no clue what she was getting at.
"What I mean is that since I'm a Gryffindor prefect, and evidently the only one of this year, I don't need you to follow me. I'm quite capable of handling this on my own." Not even bothering to look at the bewildered boy, she said in a mothering quality, "Why don't you go and find Ron? I'm sure he'd love to keep you company; you could catch up on what happened over the summer."
"Um...Hermione?" Seeing that the girl wasn't going to look at him or respond to him, Harry wondered why she thought another prefect hadn't been selected for their year. Pushing these thoughts away, he concentrated at keeping up with the swiftly moving girl. "You need to know something. Another fifth year Gryffindor was chose to be a prefect with you."
"Oh? I didn't know that. Who do you suppose it is?" Continuing her brisk pace, Hermione didn't even seem to care. It seemed that she would prefer to leave the other prefect out of all their duties.
Fuming at her rudeness of the situation, Harry glowered at her. "You don't honestly sound like you care."
"Well why should I? I mean, if the person actually took the job seriously, then shouldn't they be the one here with me leading the first years, not you?" Looking pointedly at Harry, Hermione still didn't notice the boy's badge pinned to his robe.
Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Harry said, "Hermione, the other prefect is with you leading the first years!"
"Oh really? Where is this so called prefect then if you're so smart?! Huh?! 'Cause I sure don't see one!" Hermione demanded hotly.
"I'm the other Gryffindor fifth year prefect!" Harry yelled as they came up on the portrait of the fat lady. "VOLDEMORT!" Yelling this word, Harry then calmed himself enough to speak to the frightened first years, who had been frightened by Harry and Hermione yelling, and by the last word Harry had said. Looking at the open portrait, Harry said, "Voldemort is this years password. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself. Get used to saying it, because it can only be changed by me, and now I won't tell anyone, not even the professors, how I managed that." Glaring coldly at Hermione, Harry said, "Well, Miss Perfect Prefect, I think you can take over from here, since I'm obviously not needed." Stalking away, Hermione watched Harry's retreating backside, her mouth hanging open in utter shock at what had just occurred.
This is how Ron found her when he entered, along with all the new first years waiting for her to tell them where their rooms were. "Um...Hermione? You there?" Waving his hands in front of the stunned girls face, Ron shrugged, leading the first years to the stairs and telling them where to go. After unsuccessfully trying to get Hermione's attention a few more times, Ron shrugged again, leaving his friend down in the common room alone, standing in utter shock.
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Harry woke the next morning, deciding to forgo waking his red headed companion, and to not wait for either Ron or Hermione to attend breakfast with him. He really wasn't in the mood to be lectured at, gaped at, and yelled at by his 'friends'. Besides, why should he? It's not as though they actually cared enough to actually write to him. Sure he'd received letters; quite a few actually. The only problem with them was that if they weren't rather distant, they were filled with complaints about either Ron being a prat or Hermione and her 'boy toy'. They never even asked Harry how he was, instead sending distant notes wishing him a good summer, and for him to know that what happened to Cedric wasn't his fault. Didn't they have anything they wanted to talk to him about? He didn't want to play mediator between the two stricken love birds when they didn't even realize they liked one another.
Sighing at himself for his over dramatically views, Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Looking around his table, he dully noted that he was the only Gryffindor that was already up and about. Taking in the surrounding House tables, Harry inwardly cringed when he met the icy stare of Cho Chang, Cedric Diggory's girlfriend and seeker for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. He really wished she would understand that he couldn't stop what happened, but she just seemed to blame him. He had even received howlers and hate mail from her, most of the Hufflepuff House, and some other witches and wizards throughout the wizarding world. It seemed that more people actually believed the crap that Rita Skeeter wrote than he originally thought. He still couldn't get over how dense some people could be.
Quietly eating his meal, Harry couldn't help but feel the hackles on the back of his neck rise, alerting him to someone starring at him. Cautiously looking around the Great Hall for the perpetrator, Harry was shocked to see obsidian eyes boring into his own emerald orbs with a calculating look in their depths. Giving a slightly nervous grin to the man, he turned back to his meal. Oh great. The first actual day back for class, and the man already thinks I'm up to something. Plus the fact that I blew up at Hermione. This year is already shaping up to be rather bad.
Ignoring the entering students, Harry paid no head to Ron, Hermione, Seamus, or Dean as they tried unsuccessfully to get his attention. Finally giving up, they started their breakfast, deciding that talking with Harry could wait until after classes. Of course, they didn't know how wrong they were, and they definitely regretted later not taking the chance when they had it.
Hearing the doors to the Great Hall bang in, people gapped at Neville Longbottom as he stumbled in, carrying some sort of vile in his hands. Watching the boy with ill conceived worry, the collective student body sighed as the overly clumsy boy made it to his seat without any conundrums. Taking his eyes from the boy, the students went back to what they were doing before hand.
"Um...Nev, what is that?" Seamus inquired, eyeing the vile as though it would jump up and attack him.
"OH! I-it's for Harry. My gran made it." Looking at the boy with pleading eyes, Neville silently begged for him to accept the gift, conveying how heart broken his grandmother would be with only a look. "It's to protect him from evil."
Looking at the vile, Harry audibly gulped, but didn't want to cause any harm to Neville's family. He felt bad for the chunky, Gryffindor boy. Gathering his courage, he swallowed, before shakily reaching out, taking the vile from Neville. "Thank you, Neville. Will you please tell your grandmother how kind it was of her to think of me? And that I really appreciate this?"
"O-of course, H-harry." Sending a beaming smile at Harry, Neville relaxed as he realized his Gran's gift wasn't going to get turned down by 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'.
"Well, bottoms up." With that said, Harry tipped the contents of the vile into his mouth, making a face of disgust at the taste. Dropping the vile, Harry doubled over in pain before falling to the floor, hollering out. He rolled around a few times before lying still, making people wonder if he was still alive. As they cautiously approached the motionless figure, they gave a start as he lurched into a sitting position, screamed once, and promptly vanished in a cloud of smoke, leaving nothing of himself behind.
"Oh dear. I'm in trouble now," Neville said, punctually passing out afterwards.
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Sitting up, Harry rubbed his aching head, wondering what had hit him, and if he could sue. Noticing bright blasts of light around him, along with a quite a bit of yelling, Harry took in his surroundings, shocked to notice the amount of fighting going on. He still appeared to be in Hogwarts' Great Hall, but everything seemed rather different. He didn't recognize the few students that were in the room, along with the professors. There were quite a few Aurors and Death Eaters, all shouting curses and hexes. Nobody seemed above using 'The Unforgivables', which Harry didn't understand. He thought using them was a one way ticket to a cell in Azkaban. Rolling out of the way of a curse, Harry got to his feet, drawing attention to himself. As everyone looked at him, the fighting seemed to stop, everyone starring at him as though he were a mad man who had proclaimed his undying love for Voldemort, with all the intent of marrying the man and having his children.
TBC
Um...I don't know where that just came from. I have no idea what so ever. I sat down to write a chapter to another one of my stories, and boom, there it was. Oh well. If any of you read 'Changing Ideals', you'll find it else where now. It was booted off this site. Er...if you want to find it, go to my author profile, there's a link to it. Enjoy.
Uh...review. Please. Tell me what you think. I'm not really sure if this is worth continuing, even though I think I will, just to see where I'm going. My hands seem to have a life of their own. Sorry! But hey, I'm rather attached to this story already. Hehe. Hopefully it gets a few people's seals of approval. Anywho, review.