Disclaimer - You all know the drill. HP and all related characters belong to the mighty JK bows. Songs, companies and other people etc. belong to whoever they belong to.
Demetrius and Athena McGonagall belong to me, as well as all the other people you don't know.
I based Anne Ross and Elizabeth Greeves (with surnames and part of first name) on my two friends Lauren and Lise. They read the story and started telling me about this, so I've decided to give them special mention (for the sake of my own limbs). You guys are great and I had to put you in! (And yes, I guess you two copyright yourselves and own said people, lol)
(http/paintmeister. - by the way, visit this address! It's Lise's art work, so hopefully I'll be able to tell her if you like it :D - let me know what you think of it)
Also, if for the person who asked about how Damien de-aged and things like that, if you reread the Prophecy in the first chapter, you'll see, lol.
P.S. - The Headmaster is Dippet - I forgot to put it in the last chapter, but I had him in mind.
Warnings - Swearing
Author's note - Thank you to all my reviewers! And thanks for all your votes etc. The cat name hasn't been decided quite yet, as I've started this the day I finished - although I think everyone is up for flashes, so that is what I shall do. I was thinking a chapter for each year, then one for whenever he goes back, and then the rest of the story.
21st September
The Gryffindor Foursome had settled rather well into classes thus far, with Damien excelling in Defence, taught by Professor Alastor Moody, a young trainee Auror, Charms, taught by a short, fresh-faced teacher named Professor Filius Flitwick and Transfiguration, with Professor Albus Dumbledore. He got along well with all his teachers, and they him.
With this news, and news of other happenings around Hogwarts, he was sending owls as much as possible to his family and little sister (who thanked him profusely for several Transfiguration books that he had sent her from the Library), however, he still found it strange to be away from his family, and for so long, and wrote to them as often as he could.
He held a strange type of homesickness in a way, however, he was slowly getting over it - it was natural for a boy who had, before, never been away even a night from his family, and, although he didn't know it, had never had a loving family before then.
Subconsciously, however, he realised this, and that his time was limited, and it urged him to write to his family as much as possible.
He unconsciously listened.
It was on this day, however, that Damien found something other than classes which he had a natural flair for, and this excelled even those in classes, for the rush made him feel truly alive.
Flying had, and always would be, Harry Potter's true freedom.
"UP!" Damien commanded, and the rather new broom jumped into his hand, taking him by surprise.
Those around him had failed spectacularly.
Patrick managed on his second try. Elizabeth, who apparently was growing frustrated, looked ready to skin it alive and shouted up angrily.
It jumped into her hand.
She looked rather pleased.
Anne, however, had a morbid fear of flying, and was muttering under her breath, trying to calm herself down.
She hated anything to do with flying, and trying to command a broomstick was a mental block she had built rather hastily.
Whenever the Professor wasn't looking, she simply picked it up.
The teacher, Mr Wilkinson, a rather sporty young man with an athletic build, dark hair and a grin which made many girls melt, then directed them on flying, and basically allowed them free reign after a student was sent to him with a message from Headmaster Dippet, causing him to run towards the school in a hurry.
There was silence before several Slytherins kicked off after Paddy, who had quickly flown up after the man had turned his back and they surrounded him.
His friends didn't realise yet, as their backs were to the scene.
A young Slytherin named Malfoy flew towards him, a vindictive smirk on his face.
"Well, well, well, lookie who we have here, boys. Patrick Fletcher. The blood-traitor."
Patrick flushed angrily.
"I'd rather be a blood traitor than a blood racist."
Malfoy's smirk faded and moulded itself into a glare.
"Shut up, you filthy Mudblood-lover. The blood-traitor and his little troop of Mudbloods. A disgrace to Wizard-kind."
"Don't you dare call them that, Malfoy!"
"I'll call them whatever I like. They are the scum of the Earth! They'll bring an end to our kind and kill us all! They are tainting the blood of Wizard kind!"
"The only tainting of Wizard kind is your Pureblood inbreeding." Patrick replied, glaring at Malfoy himself. "Marrying your cousin in arranged marriages. That must be great fun."
Malfoy took out his wand, as did the Slytherins beside him.
Patrick took out his own, although he knew he was outnumbered, and it was a long way down if he was knocked off of is he fell.
Damien turned around whenever he heard the shouts around him, and he looked up at the group.
He hated bullies, and picking on his friend was crossing a line. He had been bullied himself whenever he was younger, aged only five at the time, by a young man named Dursley, causing his father to take him to martial arts classes, to defend himself. He had also thrown in sword-fighting, for a challenge to the young man.
He had since become a Junior Champion in the country in at several types of martial arts, and also in Fencing, where he was known for his cat-like grace and delicate, deadly skills with blades, and although it wasn't well known outside of that particular world, he preferred to keep it that way, to spring a nice surprise on those who had once bullied him and would try once again to bully him, and his friends.
And he did spring a particular lovely surprise on Dursley, who ran home one day with a black eye, a broken nose and a cut lip. He hadn't bothered him again.
His eyes filled with a fire of fury as flashes of his own taunted days passed over his mind's eye, and he grabbed his broom once again, not noticing it hovered nicely beside him, before kicking off smoothly, shooting up towards the group, who had not yet noticed the approaching boy.
"You'll pay for that, Fletcher! Stup-"
"Expelliarmus!" Damien shouted, still flying, and all of the wands flew towards him, which he then threw to the ground, bar Patrick's, which he stuffed into his robes.
"What are you doing, Malfoy?" He asked calmly, although even his cronies, who were as thick as two planks, could tell he was ready to kill.
Malfoy glared but made no reply.
"I'd advice you to leave him alone, Malfoy. And all of my friends. If you don't, I promise that I will come down on you so hard you won't know what hit you. Is that clear?"
Reluctantly, Malfoy nodded, and flew towards the ground indignantly looking for his wand.
His friends followed him.
Damien turned to Patrick and handed him his wand before grinning.
"You know, I don't think those Slytherins like us too much." Damien voiced cheerily.
"Neither do I, Demon, neither do I." Patrick grinned, his anger fading.
Damien laughed before taking off flying once again, diving, turning and rolling in the air without fear or thought for anything else other than his flight.
31st October, 1931
Halloween had slowly crept up on the four young Lions.
The first true signs that morning of Halloween at Hogwarts was the wafting scent of pumpkin pie that loitered the halls like a shadowy presence, enticing all into the Halloween spirit.
That day, they only had morning and midday classes, which led up to lunch, before they were to be let off, in time for the Halloween Ball to be held for the upper-years in the Great Hall. The younger years were to have their own separate parties in their Common Rooms.
Damien's first class of the day was Transfiguration, where Professor Dumbledore was currently in the Halloween mood, allowing them a free period while he transfigured things around the room, such as stones into a flock of bats (which were later seen to be chasing the hated caretaker Filch), quills into pumpkins and the likes.
Damien, who was amazed, asked Dumbledore how to do some of the demonstrated effects, and Dumbledore, in the end, taught him several rather nifty transfigurations, which Damien could hardly wait to try out.
He was rather proud of his later-magically-carved pumpkin (which sat in his dorm room for around a month after before Patrick, sick of the decomposed, reeking pumpkin, threw it out of the window, unaware that it hit several girls below) and kept practicing the transfiguration to and from a button.
The next class was Charms, where they learnt to enchant small posters for the ball, with different happenings 'in the spirit of Halloween'
Elizabeth enjoyed the gore of a re-enactment of Nearly-Headless Nick's beheading, the blood from the severed head forming the words 'Halloween Ball - Be there or die painfully like Nick!'.
Flitwick had politely asked her to, if nothing else, remove the 'or die painfully like Nick'.
She did as he asked, grumbling all the time.
She re-charmed it later, receiving a detention for it.
Elizabeth merely shrugged and laughed hysterically, while her friends exchanged weary looks before jokingly running away from her.
She continued laughing.
20th December, 1931
Christmas was the high-point to a great year in Damien's opinion, especially as he got to see his family for the first time in four long months.
As soon as he had stepped off the train, he had been engulfed into a bone-crunching hug by Minerva, which caused him to laugh happily and return, before repeating the same with his mother, who looked slightly tired compared to the last time he had seen her, however, he dismissed it and quickly turned to face Patrick, who was the only one of his friends to be coming home for the holidays.
Elizabeth and Anne had decided to stay at Hogwarts this year, and he had already left their presents with Anne (so Elizabeth wouldn't open it before Christmas day).
He had gotten Anne a book from a second-hand book store (thanks to owl-purchase) about plants and their properties, due to her great interest in Herbology, and another on Muggle technology, while with Elizabeth, he had gotten a small silver box he had purchased for just a few sickles with the books - apparently, it contained a small dancer in the centre and played music as it spun, which he believe would be prefect as she was a keen dancer.
For Patrick, on the other hand, he had bought some Muggle sweets (the boy had a read sweet tooth).
"Mum, Min, this is Paddy…Patrick Fletcher."
Patrick put on a charming smile as he shook Athena's hand, before turning to Minerva and repeating the same, causing her to blush slightly at the twinkle in his eye.
"We better get going, Damien - it will take all day to get home."
Damien gave his friend a handshake and a look before leaving.
A small smile appeared on his face as he realised something.
They had never said they couldn't use magic.
26th January, 1932
Damien had long since anticipated Minerva's 11th birthday, which had been the day before on the 25th, for one main reason.
The fact that she would receive her Hogwarts letter, if she was indeed magical, and he hoped she was, for she had been so excited about the possibility of it that she had read all of his textbooks, and he had continued to send her Transfiguration books through owl post, as well as others, because of her deep interest already.
So whenever a large brown owl flew towards him that morning in the post run, one he recognised as one he had sent the other day to find out, as well as deliver his present, he quickly ripped the attached latter off and opened it eagerly, scanning it before grinning and beaming.
"She got in!" Damien laughed happily to Patrick, who grinned back at him with a twinkle in his eye.
"Don't even think about it."
14th February, 1932
Valentine's Day was usually not an important time at Hogwarts, however, one of the female staff (Muggle Studies Professor Shauna Hilliard) had suggested a rather - different approach to Valentine's Day.
"Oh my GOD! Attack of the sickeningly pink madames…it looks like a slutty brothel!" Elizabeth exclaimed loudly, her eyes bugging out and a look of horror and disgust on her face.
"Sweet mother of Merlin! That's just sickening!" Anne agreed just as loudly, cringing as even her niceties could not hold her back from her views on the redecorated Great Hall.
Damien and Patrick, who were as usual lagging behind, both choked.
"And this is why I'm not woman." Patrick stated after Anne hit him on the back.
Damien just glanced at him strangely, but looked around the room once again in total disbelieve as they took their seats at Gryffindor tables.
"Pink food…pink knives and forks…pink table coverings with little red hearts…little red and pink heat confetti floating down continuously from the ceiling…Professor Flitwick flying around as cupid in a nappy!…duck!…(said Professor, who had most likely been unwillingly charmed for this, had just flown past, nearly hitting them with his bow and quiver or arrows)…Hilliard is insane!" Damien commented wryly and completely serious.
Headmaster Dippet stood at the front, his usually calm façade for once disturbed by a clearly…distasteful…outlook on his Great Hall.
"Professor Hilliard, who has organised this treat," he forced the word out with all his will-power, "for us, would like to let everyone know that the opportunity to send anonymous valentines cards is available, and can be posted in many boxes around the school. Thank you."
The group looked at each other and gagged, as did many around them, bar the giggling 'popular' girls, who were delighted and held their Professor in a new light.
10th June, 1932
Damien, despite the hot summer's day reigning down on Scotland that day, worked quickly and quietly in the Library from his copy of 'A History of Magic', by Newt Schmander, writing an essay for Professor Binns.
Of course, the man was near death's door, was half-deaf and had a head live a sieve, but he did, by some strange effort, set homework (which he didn't collect in or check it should be noted), always on goblin rebellions. He did it only because he learnt what the man droned on about, and found it interesting - although there was only so much gore one could take - and one would of course assume it would be exciting. There was no such luck.
Everyone fell asleep in the man's class, and it had taken all of Damien's will-power not to do the same, eventually managing to save for a Quick-Quotes Quill, which would copy down everything the man said into easy-to-understand English, before he too joined his sleeping classmates.
However, despite this all, all the trouble he had and was currently taking with his summer homework for the subject, to get it out of the way, he had indeed finished his exams, and had passed with rather spectacular marks, leaving him as one of the highest-placed students in his year - his mother had been so proud that she had made him a small cake.
He had beamed whenever he received it.
Also on this day however, was the Quidditch Final for the year, Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin.
He loved Quidditch, and he and Patrick aimed to try-out the next year as Beaters. Many of their friendly debates centred around Puddlemere United and the Chudley Canons, Patrick and Damien's supported teams in said order, and both held an obvious love for the fast-paced game.
The girls rolled their eyes at this.
Slytherin won, for those who are interested, absolutely trouncing the Ravenclaws by 410 - 70.
27th August, 1932
Damien smiled in relief as the last word of his, for lack of better word, vicious, Potions essay, which he had been struggling over for the last few weeks, before throwing down his quill, putting the lid on his ink-well and running down the stairs in joy, a giant grin on his face, finding Minerva sitting with one of her own first-year texts.
Pulling out one of his more advanced books, about shields, he joined her in the silent reading session.
After more than an hour, Damien was beginning to feel rather worried that his mother wasn't home yet.
After yet another, he set down his book without a word and was about to open the door whenever his mother pushed it open, pale and shaking.
"Oh God…Mother, are you alright."
She looked at him.
"I'm fine, son, I'm fine. Don't worry about me."
"Why are you back so late?"
"It was rather busy at the market today, that's all."
He took the bags offered to him after giving her a look which clearly said he didn't believe her, and walked into the kitchen, silently worrying about his adoptive mother.
I can hear all the clogs turning in your heads - I already have this part planned out in my head.
I'm still looking for a cat name, although I found a few I rather like, any more would be appreciated :D.
This is Damien's first year over and done with - again, a chapter a year until he gets back - thanks for all your votes on that - it was a clear winner.