Harry walked solemnly towards the Slytherin common room. He hated this place, with its false English creed, and prestigious bollocks that reigned sourly to annoy him. What could have been the most exciting time of his life had turned out to be full of codes, rules and laws he never had known about before. This sucked, it really sucked.
Harry had never attended any kind of boarding school before, or any institution where he was forced to learn. His education was born from world knowledge, his magic not conventional by location and certainly his spirit was that of free, uninhibited glory. He was here because his Godparents had signed an agreement with Dumbledore, that said that his education would be finished within his birthplace if he did not complete it before the last year he could. However, Harry had been brought up mostly in Japan and for that he was much more advanced than the petty children he now lived with.
The claiming of Harry Potter was not by status or clique. He was a wizard, with exceptional talent, but this did not claim his soul either. It was within the freedom he had once possessed that owned him, and for a while it had seemed like he owned it too. But fuck, do things change when you have just saved the world from the most evil of fates!
Harry headed directly for his own private room, which had once been the music room for the Slytherin's. It was sure to cause uproar once they found out, but as of yet people were avoiding him for his enigmatic presence which was sorely intimidating. And even though his ego fed dearly off the stares, the wonderment and the personality, it seemed as if his legacy was the shade where he shined and people were only flocking to that. In great hoards, no less.
As he passed a group of his peers, he sneered discretely and kept walking on. He made sure as the door to his room shut that it made a rather loud sound, and carefully but quickly he changed and darted for the outside world.
"Uh… Harry, me and my friends were wondering whether you would like to come and have a drink with us tonight." Asked a daring voice from behind his strutting self. Turning around and he was met with Draco Malfoy, flanked by a diffusible amount of Slytherin's. What were they talking about? he thought to himself quietly, in the back of his head, because surely Harry goddamn Potter did not want to go drinking, or rather pansy drinking with a bunch of rich fools.
"No… thanks…" Draco watched, rather disappointed, the retreating back of Harry. There was such cold, identified maliciousness in the looks and words given to Draco from this allusive boy, but the fire was not dampened in Draco. He sucked up the sadness, he really tried, and went about setting up his friends for a night of drinking.
Like always, the Broomsticks was rather dead until the seventh years started heading inside. Draco's group was not to be the first that entered, instead there was a small clique of elitist Ravenclaw's, who weren't really drinking but sucking up the grown up atmosphere with pleasure.
"What you having?" Blaise asked Draco as he leaned across the bar languidly like some half impressive Muggle. Glaring for the first few seconds, Draco initiated a response by pointing at the appropriate tap and began to speak when a delightful topic of conversation popped willingly into his head.
"Potter… what do you think of him?" He asked not only Blaise, but the rest of his friends all eager to be served by Rosmerta and her bar staff. Blaise cocked an eyebrow disbelievingly and turned away a few seconds before replying with; "Bit of a bastard, if you ask me."
"And quite right, I did ask you." Draco replied, and turned with his drink in hand to Pansy. "You?"
Dreamily she responded, her hands clasped to her chest and eyes upturned to the ceiling: "Bad boy."
"What do we know about him?" Draco asked, more unto himself than the others, following a tut directed at Pansy's actions.
"Well, and I think this is an obvious part, he has attitude rolling off him." Pansy added to the conversation.
Draco looked at her as if she was an idiot. "Pfft. That isn't attitude, it's punishment to the world."
"No," Blaise interjected, "How can you say that when your attitude is punishment for the world. He has attitude, he has a Japanese background. For all we know he is part of the Asian Mafia."
The group laughed, except Draco silently became afraid. It could be true, for all he knew, and that was a thought he would rather not have. "I heard he was supposed to come to Hogwarts in first year, but…" Theo said.
"Come on, is this all we know about him?" Draco said exasperatedly.
"He plays guitar and he has his own room." Pansy said before sipping her fruity drink tepidly. She looked, Draco noted, as if drinking with some gusto might hurt her.
"His own room?" Blaise asked loudly, shocked. Pansy nodded and explained she had seen him going into the music room and not coming out for hours. She also added that the second year, extraordinary oboe player, that was constantly practicing had tried to enter behind the portrait and when he argued to get in the picture of Gactstine had politely told him that it was private now.
'Fuck', Draco thought. 'He is way ahead of me.'
Similarly, Harry was on his own discovery of another unit of life. His feet hit the ground beneath his chunky black boots and caused a ruckus in the small, quaint little town he was plodding through. Anger coursed through his veins at the sight of the house in which he was determined to enter, and when he knocked on the door –politely, to not give himself away- he heard the faint sounds of shouting cease.
The door opened after a few bangs came through the wood Harry stood in front of. Soft light creepily covered the perfect front garden, and Harry squinted slightly in the face of the glow. His half lidded eyes met the warm, tender face of a middle aged, handsome man. His soft sandy hair caught the candle light from within his home, and his brown wise eyes softened at the sight of Harry.
The brunette teen had his arm covering his eyes. With his right hand he reached behind his body to his back, and just as the man at door opened his mouth to inquire about the late disturbance he found he had something cold pressed against his head. The elder of the pair was moved, walking backwards, inside the house like a frightened dog.
"You know that is a gun pressed against your head, and you don't know I'm quite willing to pull the trigger?" Harry rhetorically asked in a cold, calculated voice. The elder man swallowed, all his sense of spontaneous action and reflex forgotten with the Muggle device against his head. Remembering he had a negotiating voice and a wand to boot, as his back pressed against the staircase banister, he made to move his hand to his pocket where his wand was kept. A voice, from behind him, halted his actions.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" From the kitchen had come another middle aged man, with long black hair and black obsidian eyes of fire. Harry looked, and within seconds a gun was pulled on this man too. Harry's arms were overlapped, crossed one might say. "Seriously, son, put them down!" The dark haired man shouted.
Harry laughed. He threw back his head and laughed out loud, yet the action did not last long enough for either of the older men to use their instinct. The dark haired man watched as Harry laughed, and waited a mere moment before he pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it straight at Harry.
The teen whispered something. It was incoherent and the syllables could barely be heard. One would think, with the way things usually go, that such a small thing uttered would bring about maybe the tiniest of breezes. But the reaction here was quite different; The dark haired mans wand blew out of his wand and could not be seen anywhere. The result of Harry's words had left a small cut on the mans hand, and the hurt was quite apparent on his face.
"Now, you listen to me and you listen goddamn good! I want to know what happened to them… I want you to tell me what you fucks did!" For added affect, Harry cocked the guns and revelled in the bone sounding click. He looked both men directly in the eye, his point heavily proven, and was awash with resentment when both gasped horribly.
"Harry?" Asked the tawny haired man, still pressed uncomfortably against the banister. Harry nodded and it seemed that both elder men might break into tears. Harry's nod had been sharp and unfulfilling, yet he changed his course when he lowered his weapons slightly, confused.
"Stop looking sad, your sick! Trying to mess with my mind?" Harry was hysterically yelling, it was all too much for him in his present, unbalanced state.
The dark haired man stepped forward, "My name is Sirius Black. Am I who you seek?" He pointed to his heart, a gesture lost on the acidic Harry. Harry snapped the gun facing Sirius back up to full position, and Sirius reflectively jumped back.
Draco laughed his heart out as Pansy lap danced an incredibly scared Ravenclaw sixth year, who had illegally smuggled himself out of school to spend time in the pub. Pansy was scantily clad in her short, black skirt and combined with the alcohol she had consumed it made a very nasty measure. She jiggled, she bounced and she grinded down on the poor boy, whose face was as red as a tiger-lamb on Halloween. Draco couldn't barely take it, and slammed his hand down on the table in rebellion to the humour.
"She should do it to that Potter boy!" Shouted someone from beside Draco's drunken form. Turning around with elegant and hazy eyes he smiled at the thought until he realised he would probably kill Pansy.
"No… No!" He shouted in defence, "She shouldn't, it might be the end of her. I think Potter is somewhat volatile."
"What about Potter?" Pansy asked as she seated herself on returning from the dance. In the distance, Draco could see the beetroot Ravenclaw being mocked by his friends.
Draco related the story to her, between mumbles and distractions, yet he couldn't take his eyes off the Ravenclaw and his friends. He heard slight snippits of conversation between them, and the looks they threw to Pansy were quite obviously distasteful. Snapping into authoritarian mode, and friend to boot, Draco stood up and gracefully walked over to the Ravenclaw group. "Something you would like to share about my beautiful acquaintance?" He asked nicely. The pragmatics were very clear, however, and even though the cards where laid on the table, a smart arsed boy stood to Draco's height and sneered back.
"Your dog, you mean?"
Draco lost it, and had it not been that he momentarily forgot the cutting spell he wouldn't have had to thrown the Petrificus Totalus that he did.
Compared to Harry's situation and events were quite similar. The tawny haired man stayed still, very still, and Harry whispered yet again something under his breath. This time, the one against the stairs heard the words that floated around his body, tightening and holding him from moving completely. He fell, with the thought in his head that he had heard those Asian words before.
Harry pulled the two guns on Sirius, and walked determinedly towards him. Sirius looked scared, very scared, and tried not to squeal in fear as Harry moved serpentine upon him. "You killed my parents." He stated.
"If I had done that, I would have killed myself." Sirius retorted, trying his best to make his Godson understand.
"Oh, don't play games. Of course you didn't kill them, you only led Voldemort to their home… huh?"
"If I had done that, I would have killed myself. If you knew me, and let me make you understand young one you don't, then you would know me and Remus where the only faithful ones to James and Lilly in the end. When they had nothing, we gave them everything. James, your father, was my best friend. I ask you, why would I want to hurt them?" Sirius was screaming silently inside his mind, but the exterior was calm.
"You're right that I don't know you, so why would I want to kill you?" Harry paused and cocked his head to the side, "You know, I don't know you but I do want to kill you. And your frozen fuck over there."
Sirius' back was against a wall now, and he looked around for a way out. Harry's eyes reflected his resentment, it hurt to see it within Sirius' godson. The green of those eyes was so refreshing to see, after so many years without it. And then it clicked within Sirius' head; his way out.
"If I had killed your parents, you wouldn't have lived with me until you were three."