Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
************************************************************************
A.N. Another chapter up! Yay!
Copper Fire- Thanks for reviewing and I'm really flattered. I'll try to update as fast as I can.
Anyway, Please Review!
************************************************************************
Harry stopped at the portrait of the fat lady, and smacked himself on the head. He had forgotten to ask someone for the password.
Luckily, Ron came running up after awhile, having gotten the password from Hermione, and the two stepped into the Griffendor common room.
A feeling of uneasiness was stirring up in the back of Harry's mind. Something was different with the school. Something big. Something powerful. Something dangerous.
Harry followed Ron up the stairs to the 7th year dorms. He should have been in 6th year, after skipping school, but he was not spending the year with Colin and his damned camera. Besides, there wasn't anything the school could teach him now, not after training for over 4 centuries with the best Phalexix could offer.
Stepping into the dorms, Harry noticed that all the 7th year boys were up here already, and were staring at him with an air of curiosity.
Finally, Seamus spoke up.
"Harry, where have you been for an entire year?"
Dean, Neville, and Ron nodded along, confirming that they too wanted to know.
"Training." Harry answered shortly as he pulled off his robes, revealing a rather strange array of items.
This caused the boys to stare a bit more, as Harry tossed his robes over onto his trunk.
Catching the looks and stares, Harry smirked to himself.
He did look rather strange and out of place in a dorm.
He was wearing a black t-shirt, Japanese kanji written on in blood red. His very baggy black pants were held around his waist with a thick belt. Another belt, this one a little looser, had deep magical pockets which carried items that wouldn't look out of place on a battlefield.
His arms, under the t-shirt, were sporting two bands that strapped black painted knives to his biceps. The handles were pocking through the arms of the shirt, pressing against his skin like a rather strange tattoo.
Around his neck, he was wearing the metal band, which he tugged at one last time. His hair, which had been hidden under the collar of his robes, was the only indication that he has spent more than a year away from the school.
It came down to the middle of his back, tied at the base of his neck with a leather thong. His ears, now coming into view, were pierced, the right sporting countless hoops, the left ear dangling a viper fang.
Harry looked like a rebel. A homicidal rebel.
Harry searched his deep pockets, quickly finding his wand. He relied on it more than ever now that his power was kept under lock and key.
Thinking for a moment, he realized that he didn't need anyone going off telling McGonagall that he was carrying guns under his clothes, he used his wand to quickly change into sleep pants and a regular t-shirt.
Then, as he flopped backwards onto his bed, he grimaced. Scarlet just seemed out of place after spending so long in the dark.
Harry waved his wand, and suddenly it changed colors. The bed itself becoming gold and the hangings to a deep black.
When he noticed the boys staring he smirked. Again.
"Incantation's flux morta followed by the color you want."
Harry quickly pulled down the hangings on his bed and sat up.
After conjuring up a mirror and some light, he leaned forward and started turning the collar so he could see the whole thing.
Squinting, he started at the marking, and suddenly, his sharp eyes caught sight of a familiar ruin.
"Ah. Merlin's old ruins."
He mused to himself as twisted the collar one more time.
He would need a book to translate the ruins and dispose of them, but at least he knew the author.
He needed to take a little trip to the library. Tomorrow morning was soon enough.
He quickly banished the mirror and the light, and sank down back into the pillow. No matter how wrong revenge may be, it was still going to as sweet as ever.
He lay awake long into the night, plotting and scheming until he sank into a dreamless sleep.
