A Crown of Black Upon His Head
Disclaimer/Plot/Author's Note: SEE FIRST CHAPTER
Recommended Reads: Silver King and Trickshot by JustBored21, A Second Chance by Breanie, Ascension by PerseusPeverell092, The Crimson Sorcerer by TwistedFilms, My Child by DebsTheSlytherinSnapefan, The Rise of the Last Potter by HPfanfictioner66, Hadrian Potter- The Snake like Lion and Hadrian Potter- Black and the Gauntlet of Gryffindor by Lord of mystics, Worthy of Magic by Raul Fictitious, Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man, A Chance Encounter and The Slytherin Reformation by spectre4hire and Harry Black Book 1: The Hero's Return, Harry Black Book 2: The Rising Darkness, Harry Black Book 3: The SPIRE, Harry Black Book 4: The Coming Dawn and Harry Black: Book 1 (Definitive Edition)by AuthorK
Key Pairing: Harry/Daphne; Neville/Hermione
Other Pairings: Sirius/Amelia; Others TBD
Normal Speech
'Thoughts'
/Parseltongue/
Review Answers:
RyanMK666: Yes, inspiration can be a real curse sometimes, but rest assured, I am FAR from done with this story;
Yingfa07: Actually, much like quite a few ideas of mine, he is going to be a friend – what can I say? I am and always will be a Draco fan, hence why I tie him first with Harry, Bella and Sirius in my favourite character list;
Jonahtapper1228: Not quite yet, but it is coming, when Sirius re-enters the fray;
WhiteElfElder: The Dragon leaves the Pug to the Basilisk: well, at least the King of Snakes won't need to eat that day;
Even as Pansy reluctantly agreed, however, her eyes screamed one thing as she looked to where Harry had vanished.
Revenge!
Not just for lying about her family.
But also for daring to make her beloved look like some common Mudblood before his betters!
Oh yes, Potter would pay dearly for crossing the future Lady Malfoy.
She would make sure of it.
Chapter 4: Red Vs Black: No Contest!
A feeling of next-level-palpable tension, as well as unexpected curiosity and bewilderment, seemed to follow the Slytherin students all the way to the Great Hall the next morning.
In the case of those who were above second year, including the second years themselves, many were left wondering why their first-year peers looked like they would rather go and beg the Sorting Hat for the chance to be sent to any other House, even Gryffindor.
As for the first-years, however, they moved like a well-practiced army of students, leaving the Common Room at exactly the same time, en masse, as they followed behind the emerald-eyed visage of the biggest surprise in their year's number, Harry James Potter. When they reached the Great Hall for breakfast, the first-years actually seemed to look to the leader of the pack for confirmation before, after just a single nod from Harry, they moved to take their seats at the Slytherin Table.
While the second-through-seventh years questioned this strange, almost-militaristic attitude from their peers, Harry sniffed once before he turned and took a seat at the farthest end from the High Table, sitting in a seat that seemed to suddenly appear at the actual head of the table. By sitting in this place, the setting was so well-placed that it not only gave him a perfect view of the rest of the Hall, but also allowed him to inspect the High Table with his cool, thousand-yard stare.
When breakfast appeared, Harry poured himself a simple-enough bowl of porridge, to which he then added plenty of fresh fruit before, tapping his goblet, he finally broke the silence as he muttered to himself.
"Coffee; white; one lump of sugar."
To the surprise of the students nearest him, as well as many of the elder snakes, the goblet suddenly transformed into a Slytherin-monogrammed coffee mug, with the added condiments that Harry had asked for/ordered. Taking a sip from the coffee, Harry hummed once before, setting his mug down again, he gently tapped the table with a single finger.
"My thanks and compliments to you, custodians of my ancestor's House. Be proud in your work."
Strangely, his words seemed to be followed by a whisper of warm wind, which not only ruffled many peoples' hairstyles, but it also seemed to feed the flames burning in the torches around the Hall, making them shine brighter than usual.
After that, Harry didn't say anything.
In fact, the only reason he bothered to open his mouth for the remainder of the feast was to put food in, or to take a small, but satisfying drink from his seemingly-bottomless mug of hot drink.
Black
"Is he actually drinking something other than pumpkin juice? How in Merlin's name did he manage that?"
"You'd have to be braver than Gryffindor himself to even think of asking, Nott," argued Blaise, both of them, along with several of their peers, unable to tear their eyes away from the unofficial leader of the first-year class as he enjoyed a peaceful breakfast. "Let's just put it down to him having more evidence of that foreknowledge he showed last night and leave it at that."
Theo didn't bother arguing the point, especially not after what he and Blaise, as well as their peers, had seen in the Common Room last night.
Black
"It seems young Potter is familiar with the concept of informing the House Magic of his wishes for food and drink."
"Given who raised him, you're surprised, Filius?" asked Minerva shakily, briefly glancing to Severus Snape, who looked as though he actually wanted to make something of Harry's unorthodox act. "Personally, I'm surprised many of our other students never put the pieces together, especially since the same magic is on display whenever we hold parties and balls here at the castle…or perhaps I spoke too soon."
A glance in the direction of the Gryffindor Table, and the fact that first-years Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger, as well as elder-years Fred and George Weasley, were also enjoying something other than pumpkin juice – what looked like herbal tea in Miss Granger's case, while the boys were happily drinking glasses full of freshly-pressed fruit juices of varying flavours – told Filius exactly what she was referring to.
To Filius' surprise, not one member of the wise house seemed to have caught on to this titbit.
Though there were a few Puffs who also seemed to get the hint pretty quickly.
Black
"Mmm…thank you for this fine meal, friends; blessed be."
Clasping his hands together, as though he was praying, Harry watched as his bowl vanished, as did his mug, before he leaned back, resting his hands on his now-full, warm stomach while he watched his peers enjoying their own meals.
As he glanced over towards the Gryffindor Table, however, Harry's eyes darkened while a scowl of pure disdain crossed his face when he saw what had to be the single, most-disgusting example of table etiquette he'd ever seen.
A redheaded student, whom Harry assumed was a first-year, going by his youth and apparently inexperienced manner of eating in company, was attempting to shovel food into his seemingly never-closing mouth, only to miss his mouth on practically every attempt, sending bits of food falling all over his robes and over his face.
And why was he so poorly-coordinated with his cutlery?
Because, no matter how many times he attempted to break the world record for fastest eating competition victory, his eyes never left the Slytherin Table; specifically, they never left the spot where Harry was sitting, now looking back at the untrained child with disgust, hatred and no small amount of personal, not to mention unseen, pity for the lion cubs who had to bear closer witness to the redhead's atrocious habits and lack of anything even closely resembling table manners.
'Grandfather,' thought Harry, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, trying to bury his disgust and lack of care for whatever the nuisance's problem was, 'If you saw this, you would fuse that creature's lips shut and bar him from meals for a week until he either starved or learned how to act more like a civil wizard is supposed to act.'
"Is there a problem here, Mister Potter?"
Opening his eyes, Harry found himself now looking at the black-robed visage of his Head of House, Professor Severus Snape, who seemed to have at least done Harry a small favour by putting himself between the redheaded slob and the raven-haired youth.
Looking up to the man's eyes, Harry saw Snape flinch before the boy replied in a cool tone of voice, "No problem; apart from the dismal lack of courtesy by a certain peer on the Red Team, Professor Snape. Also, now I have a chance to greet you, may I say what an honour I find it to have the opportunity to learn from Hogwarts' infamous Half-Blood Prince?"
Another flinch, much more-violent-looking than the last one, followed Harry's words, accompanied by a sneer that faded as quickly as it formed as Snape dropped a timetable onto the empty spot in front of Harry, who nodded once as he picked up the sheet of parchment. "Oh good, a chance to see who I learn certain classes with. Here's hoping I don't have to spend too much time in the presence of the rabble…well, no longer than what is necessary, anyway. Good morning, Professor Snape."
Severus quickly left Harry's side.
Unfortunately, this also gave the boy another clear line of sight to the redhead's atrocious appearance, which only grew more pronounced when the boy spat food out of his mouth as he snorted at the apparent discomfort on Harry's face.
Not even aware of the fact that he was the one causing it.
As he eyed his timetable, committing the information there to memory, Harry scowled as he folded his timetable up and slid it into his pocket.
"Looks like I have a Transfiguration lesson first…and a lesson of my own to teach before we get started…how appropriate that they're both with a member of the proud sons of Gryffindor."
Black
While the rest of the first-years made their way off to Transfiguration, Harry waited outside the Great Hall, idly checking his nails as he waited for his target to show his ugly, untrained and, probably, incontinent monkey's face.
He knew he would be late to his first lesson, and, given it was with the Head of Gryffindor House, not to mention the woman who'd been Head of House to his late Mother and Father, Harry knew there'd be repercussions to his tardiness. However, if he was being perfectly-honest with himself, he wasn't too concerned with the ins and outs of Transfiguration, nor the showing off that he knew Professor McGonagall would display as an example of the craft.
He had something much more important to deal with.
Black
The Code demanded satisfaction and, quite frankly, Harry was also more than willing to admit that this was personal!
Slytherin, he might be, but, as was previously-noted, his late parents had been proud members of Gryffindor House, thus making him a Legacy and a symbol of what they had not only sacrificed themselves for, but also shown as renowned members of that House.
And, as Harry had been taught by his Grandfather: nothing is more important than family, whatever form that matter may take.
Family first.
Everything, even lessons in the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world, came second.
Black
As he allowed himself to justify his actions with the Code, Harry heard a scuffling of shoes, accompanied by a crass-sounding burp that turned into a suddenly-jolly voice. "Wow! Harry! I knew you didn't want to spend time with those slimy snakes! Bet that's why you waited for your best mate!"
"No."
Had it been anyone else – especially anyone with even a brain cell to spare – they might have felt intimidated, even frightened by the cold tone of voice that Harry used when he answered the redhead's crowing with a single word.
Unfortunately for Harry, this wasn't someone who knew what a brain cell was, "Oh, so you were worried about getting lost? No worries, mate; my brothers told me all the secret passageways. We can probably beat those slimy snakes up to the class; tell you what, why don't we sit with that weird girl, Granger? You should have heard her last night, going on and on about all she knew; so, we can copy off of her, right?"
"And why would I want anything to do with something like that, Gryffindor?" asked Harry calmly, folding his arms as he stared at the dumbfounded redhead, who clearly didn't even know what Harry was talking about.
"Gryffindor? Oh, right; I forgot, you don't know my name…"
"And yet you claim to be my number-one-ranked friend; how extraordinarily-selfish of you, Mister Weasley," drawled Harry, earning a surprised look from the redhead, while Harry scoffed as he explained, "The red hair, the Gryffindor Legacy longer than the gamekeeper's arm span, the freckly features, the bedraggled look that seems to indicate you were dragged through a hedge backwards, not to mention the obnoxiously-loud attitude and lack of respect for anything or anyone that is not influentially-better off than you or wearing red. Then there is the way you seem intent on skating by on the bare essentials, suggesting you are a scion of the disgraced matriarch, Molly Anne Weasley, formerly Prewett. And, of course, there is the ultimate sign of what is commonly referred to as the bleeding obvious."
"Huh?" asked the Weasley boy, earning a scoff from Harry.
"I heard your name and saw your face at last night's inaugural Sorting Ceremony, Mister Weasley and, unlike you and manners, some of us are blessed with the trait of never being able to forget anything, which brings me to the reason I am waiting here for you."
"Yeah, because we're best mates and you…"
"Oscausi."
Suddenly, the redhead's lips vanished, only to be replaced by muffled squeals, while Harry walked right up to him, earning a gasp and a stumble back from the boy, as the Potter-Black scion pressed his wand squarely between the tactless twit's eyes as he looked right into Weasley's finally alarmed, if not aware expression.
"Let me make this as…monosyllabic as possible, Mister Weasley," said Harry calmly, keeping his wand trained on the redhead as he explained in a slow, but clear voice. "We. Are. Not. Friends. I. Have. No. Whims. To. Be. Friends. With. Your. Sort. As. I. Have. More. Fun, Things. To. Do. With. My. Time. So Stop. Think-Ing. That. We. Are. Mates. I. Am. Not. In-Ter-Es-Ted."
Pulling back, Harry waved his wand, releasing the Oscausi on Weasley before he added, "Also, do your Housemates a favour and get some help in learning to eat like a real boy, since civility and decorum are clearly not something you learned from your embezzling she-devil of a slattern-Mother."
"At least my Mum's proud of me!"
"Whereas mine is, sadly, no longer of this world, yes, Mister Weasley, thank you for reminding me of that," said Harry casually, before he sheathed his wand as he added, "However, mine was also a member of your House and, as much as I do not wish to engage in banter with a witless worm such as you without earning headaches for life doing so, I am a Potter and, as a Potter, I cannot…I will not allow my Mother and Father's honour or legacies to be tarnished because you'd rather splatter food all over yourself like a toddler who won't eat his vegetables…on that note: Aguamenti!"
Now, Weasley was left sputtering and flailing like a fish on dry land as Harry's charm conjured up a geyser of water, which sent the redhead flying.
As the muck and grime was washed off of the redhead's face and robes, Harry waved his wand again, "Venthermus."
With a sound like an electronic hand dryer, a gust of warm wind now flew from his wand, drying Weasley's once-wet form, before Harry sheathed his wand again as he added, "There, at least you cannot humiliate your Housemates in class by looking like you lost a fight with a garbage disposal. If I ever have to watch you disgrace Gryffindor further, Weasley, rest assured; my next Mouth-Sealing Hex will not be so privatised; now, if you will excuse me, Gryffindor, some of us have lessons to learn and places atop the food chain to hold onto. Good day."
With that, Harry left Weasley fuming, silently vowing to get back at the emerald-eyed scion for humiliating him and lying about being friends.
Fortunately, Weasley had something Potter didn't.
And it was something nobody wanted to find themselves up against, not even Ron or his brothers and sister.
Black
"Apologies for being late, Professor McGonagall: a matter arose that I felt compelled to deal with as a matter of family honour."
A dead silence greeted Harry as he swanned into the Transfiguration Classroom without so much as a flicker of awareness for the way that many of his peers were busy writing.
He also didn't seem to notice the elephant in the room, or so many of the students guessed until, reaching the front, Harry actually smiled thinly before he stroked the fur of the tabby cat perched on the desk before he spoke, "An amusing deception for latecomers, Professor, and, if I may be so candid, you make a beautiful feline Animagus; furthermore, I will, of course, attend a detention with your good self, or even my Head of House, to make up for my tardiness, if that is your wish. In the meantime, I await the chance to learn from the great enchantress who helped make my late Father a borderline-Master of his Craft…now, is that my seat you're keeping warm there, Draco?"
"Uh…y-y-yes," said Draco, shuffling along, allowing Harry to sit at the front of the class where, without needing to be told, he began writing out the syllabus for the class and, to the surprise of his peers, he even began working on the task they'd been given – a basic rundown of Transfiguration.
Moments later, the door to the classroom was flung open, revealing Ronald Weasley, who actually looked like a redheaded version of Harry in another time and place with how unkempt and dishevelled he looked, not to mention how out of sorts his hair looked, as though he'd never even heard of a hairbrush. "Damnit! Late! Can you imagine the look on old McGonagall's face?"
"Actually…" muttered Harry, before the cat he'd petted leapt off the desk, only to transform into a stern, but also surprised-looking McGonagall, who advanced on a now-dumbstruck Weasley.
"That was bloody brilliant!"
"Thank you for that kind assessment, Mr Weasley," said McGonagall, earning a few titters from the class, while she added, "Perhaps it would be more useful for me to transfigure you into a pocket watch: that way, you might be on time!"
"It wasn't my fault!" exclaimed Ron, pointing a shaking finger at Harry as he insisted, "That slimy snake attacked me for no reason: he even cursed my mouth shut, so…"
Before he could finish, McGonagall made Harry's lips twitch amusingly as she cast a silent, non-verbal Oscausi of her own, earning a horrified look from Ron, while McGonagall turned to Harry as she asked, "Mr Potter, is what he says true?"
"As much as it pains me to confess, Professor, yes," said Harry, earning a few shocked, if not disbelieving looks from the Slytherins – many of whom knew that a true Slytherin covered their tracks and never owned up to making trouble, least of all for a Gryffindor like Weasley – while Harry looked up at McGonagall with his typical cold, distant stare as he added, "However, as I said before, it was a matter of family honour, such as the fact that Weasley's atrocious table manners were disgracing not only Gryffindors of the present, but all who'd come before him, such as my late parents, as well as, I'm sure, his much-cleverer and probably less-tolerant relations. Personally, Ma'am, with all due respect, I have to wonder why you, the Head of Gryffindor, don't call out such filthy attitudes: imagine if we had VIPs present…or representatives from our sister schools?"
Again, dead silence filled the room, before McGonagall cleared her throat as she turned back to Ron, releasing him from the hex.
"Take your seat, Mr Weasley: five points from Gryffindor for your lateness and a further ten for your lack of decorum."
"What? What about him? Aren't you going to punish that slimy snake? If it were that grease stain…"
"Shall I make it fifty?" asked McGonagall warningly, before she looked back to Harry as she added, "Also, five points from Slytherin for your lateness, Mr Potter-Black. But take ten for identifying an advanced form of Transfiguration and for showing due respect when you entered my classroom. I pray this will not be a common occurrence?"
"Not if I can help it, Professor," said Harry, before he indicated his parchment. "Now, Ma'am, may I get back on task? I'd like to get the theory done quickly enough, so I can get on with the practical."
As McGonagall agreed, Harry smirked when he looked back to his parchment, continuing with one final sentence before he set down his quill.
"Done."
'In more ways than one,' he added in thought, not even needing to turn to know that the redhead was glaring at him, as though he was trying to impersonate a Basilisk.
Shame Harry had decided that once was enough for him to have to deal with Weasley.
Any Weasley!
Chapter 4 and it looks like Harry's won the first round, but with the battle over, what may the War yet bring, especially when the fool decides to go crying to the Queen of Fools, thinking Harry will back down like everyone else?
Also, I'm sure I'm not the only one wondering: how does Harry do all this? What? Is he Part-Veela or something?
How is it he can both charm and intimidate his way out of any potential threat that seems to waste his time?
Keep Reading to Find Out
Next Chapter: As lessons continue, Harry finds an advocate in someone else who seeks to honour the fallen, while it's finally time for him to come face-to-face with the so-called head of the snake…and I don't just mean Snape;
Please Read and Review
OC SPELL
Venthermus: The Dry Wind Charm: Conjures up a blast of warm air, useful for deflecting enemies and drying wet objects/people