Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter
Just opening with a couple of things:
First - thank you to the reviewers who put their thoughts to 'paper' after I uploaded the previous chapter. I do apologise at the shortness of this one, but I don't belive in forcing a story if I've already told what I need to. Loved your comments though.
Second - I intend to portray every character as human. There may be times that you may disagree with my portrayal of, Ginny, for example, but know that every one I show has their own story to tell. It may not be one that you agree with, and that is completely okay. All I ask is that you reserve judgement on me until the story is over. Thank you.
Harry tried to see the best in people, he really did, but it did not stop him from trembling in front of a sheepish Ron Weasley. His Circle was dotted around the common room, edging closer to him to offer their support as Neville broke from his self-imposed restraints in the form of his anger at the boy. Katie was rubbing circles subtly over his back to calm him, and even Hermione, Ron's friend, was looking at him like he'd grown a second head.
"Did you think that maybe, MAYBE, it would have been better not to shout that out in front of half the school, you idiot?" Neville was panting slightly as he shouted.
"Hey, don't have a go at me, mate." His nose turned up at the sight of Harry shaking. "But come on, you-know-who was a Parselmouth, and now the Heir of Slytherin's in Hogwarts. Come on, it's really fishy."
As November's chill swept over the Forbidden Forest, one Saturday afternoon the Circle of friends were laughing wildly at the past uses of accidental magic they had each performed before coming to school. There had been shared looks when Harry described the immense joy he had experienced at his first ever trip to the zoo.
"I was looking at this snake, just talking to it when my cousin... moved me out of the way. I was a bit shocked and I, sort of, vanished the glass, and he fell in." That gathered a round of laughter. Harry took a sip of his hot chocolate, making sure to suck in the marshmallow that sat on what remained of the cream atop it. "When he tried to get out, the glass was back and the snake had got out." He reminisced wistfully. He could still remember the feeling of delight at how the snake had appreciated its freedom. "Everyone in the room went crazy; it was apparently a dangerous snake, but he seemed really friendly. He was really happy to get out. He said 'Brazil, here I come'."
"Wait," Neville interrupted, "The snake talked to you."
They told him of the history of Parseltongue, and about what that meant, especially at that point with the fear of the Heir permeating the school. They had quickly reassured him that they did not think anything bad of him. They knew him. They knew what kind of person he was.
It seemed, however, that they had an eavesdropper to their conversation.
Fay had been telling him a joke that had him giggling profusely when Ron exploded before him. The Great Hall had gone so silent that only the sound of their breathing could be heard.
Harry had run out of the room, Fay hot on his heels, while Fred and George had stalked up to their brother wearing matching serious faces.
The revelation of Harry Potter, slayer of the Dark Lord, being a Parselmouth... did not really change things. Most people had eyes and ears. Though a few would think on the matter and come to the conclusion that he was most likely the infamous 'Heir of Slytherin', many could only take what they knew of him and reach an obvious conclusion that he could never be such a person.
For Harry, he felt nothing. Besides the initial shock of the unwanted revelation, he realised that he didn't much care about most of their opinions. Of course, the fact that people still supported him meant a great deal and would bring a smile at the thought, yet he had the people whose opinion he valued the most on his side. That, to him, was worth any adverse feeling from the student body.
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Harry was grateful that things did not change much for him after Ron's idiocy. The boy had apologised to him under the watchful eyes of his elder brothers. To his surprise, even Hermione had apologised for her friend's actions. Most of the time he believed the girl despised him, but even he realised that he just didn't know her. They would never be friends, but his bright smile brought one to her face in reflection.
The world felt festive to him whenever he looked outside; the serene beauty of the snow-covered lawns and rooftops would cause him to feel as though he was in another world. Christmas was just around the corner, and once again he would be remaining at Hogwarts with only a few students choosing to remain. The incentive to remove themselves temporarily from the threat of an unknown attacker was a smart choice, Harry believed.
His second match was at the beginning of December, and he had asked Flitwick to accompany him for this one. He felt bad for not having McGonagall, seeing as she was a fan of the team, and he could feel himself deflate when she found out that he had asked his favourite teacher to come instead of her. He knew that he didn't have to, but he removed the negativity easily when he asked her to be the chaperone for the next few games after.
The Second match had been slightly more difficult than the first. The Puddlemere side was considered to be the best in the league, with their Seeker, Lynch, a member of the Irish National Team.
Dumbledore had deigned to come witness the match along with his Charms Professor, and both watched enraptured at the dance the two Seekers played around the Puddlemere Grounds. The two of them could see the pure joy on his face, where all trace of worries outside that moment meant nothing to him at all.
"It's like something else, isn't it, Filius?"
"The boy's a natural, Albus. And you can see how happy he is. No. That's probably an understatement."
The stadium would be full anyway, as Puddlemere was the most popular team in the Pro-League, but with the new addition to the Tornados' roster, the stands were heaving. The two professors could only look on as Harry's legend grew beyond that of his infancy and towards a brand new realm of being.
Lynch was meant to play at an international level, and Harry was plenty capable of matching his skill on his Nimbus 2000 against his 2001. The other Seeker had more experience and more training on top of that; Albus Dumbledore could only watch with hidden sadness at the thought of Harry, but showed outward elation to know that the boy was living his life and not constantly wallowing in the shadows.
How could he ever compare the boy from 50 years ago to this one before him? Similarities were there, in more ways than one, but Harry Potter was his own person. 'Love. He could have so easily fled from its sweet caresses, but instead, he embraces it. Hungers for it. Even if he does not know it.'
Dumbledore and Flitwick's applause was greater than that of the fans donning sky-blue, and Harry could only grin bashfully at their compliments while the Snitch struggled feebly in his hand.
'No. I could compare the two of them from dawn to dusk and I would never be able to place them side-by-side.'
The response Harry received when he returned to the castle nearly had him in tears. He walked into the Great Hall flanked by the two professors to cheers unbound. The amount of sky-blue badges were few, but those that had them made them pride of place somewhere upon their person.
Dumbledore came to watch the next match just a week later against Falmouth, McGonagall beside him wearing matching colours to many members of the crowd.
They witnessed once more the pure pleasure that Harry felt when taking to the air. Though they lost the previous match by 80 points, it felt that the rest of the Tutshill player's mentalities had changed. Their playing was more coordinated and just seemed... better.
Albus Dumbledore could only view this with pride as Harry unintentionally brought those around him to new heights. To him, it was as though it was by Harry's actions that he gained a following. Not by demands and force, but by example.
Harry was changing before his very eyes into someone he could be proud of. The Headmaster chuckled in amusement when the normally reserved Transfiguration professor was out of her seat, cheering at the top of her lungs at the sudden dive her, not so secret, favourite student took.
'Harry, my boy, I can only hope that you can forgive me. I can never forgive myself for what I have done to you.'
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"Come again?" deadpanned a twitching Fay.
Harry rubbed the back of his head, nervously trying to avoid his friends stare.
"I, well, the manager said that, well... he liked my flying?"
"Harry," interrupted an out of it Alicia, "The whole house listens to your games. We've seen your flying in person. This... this is a bit more than someone liking your flying."
"He really liked it?"
"Harry..." Fay was growing impatient.
He laughed apprehensively, turning to a proudly smiling Katie.
"Yeah, so, they want me to join the national side."
He couldn't blame their disbelief considering he was still coming to terms with it. The England Manager, a Wilburr Pick, had stopped him from leaving the Tutshill stadium after his win against Falmouth. He was visibly excited in his introduction, and Harry had not even listened to the whole spiel before agreeing.
Dumbledore had explained to him that he once again defied all expectations as he would be considered the youngest international player in history. Although he did follow it up with some honesty: it was most likely a grand publicity stunt, but not to let that detract from the fact he was nationally scouted. Harry felt some trepidation as to this information; he was uncomfortable with the fame he was lavished with, but at this point, he wanted to be famous for something under his control, not out of it.
Professor McGonagall had been overflowing with a sense of vicarious gratification for her star pupil. "Your mother and father would be so proud of you, Harry."
The first people he had told had been his expectant friends, which led them to this current situation. If Harry had been any other person, the knowledge of being taken for their national side would garner a much different personal response.
For Harry, Quidditch was an escape; it was a relief from all concerns he could have – it was a bonus that he had a vast love of the sport too. He disparaged any thought of what it actually meant though. Not for the first time he reflected on the musings of the Sorting Hat. What was his ambition?
Freedom. Freedom from memories he wished to throw into the aether of nothingness. Freedom from a locked future. Freedom from what the Dursley's had tried to make him into. This was his thirst; he was going to prove the Dursley's wrong. He would become someone worthy, and Quidditch was the easiest way he knew how.
He would always see his friends, and in them would view his saviours. For so long he had dwelled too long in the dungeons of his mind, wasting away to nothingness. But, it was in the spirit of magic that his cell was unlocked, and the acts of these few that coaxed him out. He tasted the fresh breath of what freedom could provide, and he relished in it.
The honour he was awarded in this new position may bring negative feelings from other residents of the castle, but he cared not for their opinions. He just saw in these few faces their support and affection. Harry liked Quidditch, and now he was to immerse himself in that enjoyment and privilege at a far greater height than ever before.
It did not take long for the Hogwarts rumour mill to unveil itself in full force, and for once dictated fact over fiction.
As Harry walked about the castle, escorted constantly be at least one of the Circle, he would be stopped and congratulated on his new position. Of course, there would be some critics who let their jealousy overcome them, but they were few and far between.
Snape's face was a sight to behold as he simmered in his barely restrained fury, while Malfoy just looked like someone had hit him with his own spleen. Most of the other House's Quidditch teams had their own opinions, but it seemed more to do with knowing that with an International player Seeking for Gryffindor that they may not have a great chance of winning the Cup that year.
Cedric took it in stride, coming over at lunch to congratulate him on his successful scouting. Patting him on the back with a warm smile and departing with a challenging wink and a laugh.
Conversely, somehow, the knowledge of him playing for the national team had increased the amount of support against him in the belief of his innocence as the Heir of Slytherin. He could not quite work out how that had been the conclusion, but over the coming days, he would see more and more fearful looks mixed in with the awed ones.
Oliver Wood was just happy that Harry would be even more of an ace in the hole for his team, as long as the matches did not interfere with his professional ones. Harry now split three training sessions a week between Hogwarts, Tutshill, and the National Side. This did not mean that he slacked off in his studies, even if some of the Professors gave him a free pass to avoid homework.
Harry was just looking forward to the Christmas Holidays. He was never lacking for money, but he now had a near steady income on top of what he would normally be able to acquire, and as such he was able to purchase greater gifts for his friends.
He never felt like he was good enough to be wanted by the people who cared for him, and in his own twisted logic, he felt that he needed to give them more extravagant gifts so that they wouldn't leave him. He never said this out loud to anyone, but it didn't stop others from working out that something was going on.
"Hmm, Fred?"
"Yes, brother?"
"Do you think that Harry might be, well, trying too hard?
Fred sighed. He worried about his little friend. He and his twin were never seen as the most serious types, but they were more perceptive that people came to believe. The two of them could still picture the prison they rescued Harry from that summer. "Can you blame him?"
"Probably not. Not if I were in his shoes."
"Do you think we should talk to someone like Katie? You know he's got her wrapped around his finger. If she thought what we think..."
"You know what Harry's like."
"So what do you suggest, dear brother of mine?"
"Harry Potter fan club?"
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On the morning of Christmas Day, Harry woke up alone in his dormitory. The nightmare's evidence strew around him; sweat stained his sheets, and the top sheets were a mess at that. He was doing a lot better now than he had in the last few years, but over the past week or so, the nightmares were hitting him like a train.
He supposed it must have something to do with the absence of the majority of his friends. Only the Weasley twins remained in the castle, and it meant that the fundamental bedrock of support he was now so used to have disappeared. Fred and George were a ray of sunlight as they were compassionate in their own ways, but he needed more even if he would never say it out loud.
For so long he had nothing, no one, and now he had what he always wanted, plus so much more. He was addicted and wanted to feel that way all the time.
He wrapped his dressing gown over his body and made his way down to the common room. Once again he pondered why Ron Weasley did not wake this early when magic was involved in his day, but shook his head of the thought. Today was not the time to think about such things.
"Merry Christmas Harrikins!" the two spoke in chorus.
"Merry Christmas you two." He nodded at a slightly annoyed looking Ron and sat down next to Ginny on the long sofa facing the fireplace.
The girl squeaked and shuffled away slightly. Harry would have felt bad if not for the almost inaudible chuckles from his favourite twins. "And Merry Christmas to you too, Ginny." He noticed then that she was clutching hard onto an elegant set of quills which he was positive he gifted her for the season. She had been nothing but awkward around him since he had met her, but Fay had said that it would be polite to send her a gift for Christmas.
Ron had thrown his gift, a pack of Every Flavoured Beans, in his own pile of presents. While Fred and George had a party pack each of prank and joke items that he knew they'd enjoy.
Harry tore into his gifts with abandon, relishing in the fact that the year before was not some fluke. Each gift was treated with the respect he believed was deserved. Neville could have bought him a single chocolate frog and he would love it. Instead, he had the beginnings of tears moisten his eyes as he ripped open each wrapped gift that had been chosen with thought and appreciation of who he was. They had pooled together into groups it seemed, and bought him items relative to his interests, such as an expensive Transfiguration related book, and a moving painting depicting him in flight chasing after a snitch as two examples.
He still had a long way to go, everyone knew that, but he was getting there. Step by step he would make his way into the light. He could see the source in the distance as the four youngest Weasleys and one Potter enjoyed ruining their morning appetites as they indulged in chocolate and sweets.
In that early morning, it was what a normal experience would be for a normal boy. The nightmare was forgotten, even if his hand still stung, as he basked in the feeling of belonging.
It would not be too long, before the nightmares would become real.
Author's Notes
A bit of a shorter chapter, but it's just a little show of why some people are afraid that Harry could be the heir, or at least know something. People though are a little less inclined to believe that this version of the boy-who-lived will be the Heir because of: how he acts; his company (though none muggleborn) is enough to vouch for him, as is his now increased celebrity status. This chapter is also a further explanation of how different he is playing Quidditch to normal. The sport splits his personality in a way, making it used as a release from his natural behaviour.
A lot of what isn't explained in the story, sometimes, needs to be explained in this author's note. Harry is, in a way, an unreliable narrator. I show how other characters see a situation, but in most ways, it's what Harry makes of a situation.
Dumbledore is not going to be bashed in this story. Not in an excessive sense anyway. There will be things that he does that will rub characters the wrong way, but he's just a man trying to do what's right for everybody. In the same vein, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron will not be 'bashed'. They may be more antagonistic than normal and will go against Harry's best interests at times, but there won't be the stereotypical hated theme that some fanfics go with. Some characters will be shown negatively at some points, but only three characters in this story will be 'bashed'. And it will be heavy 'bashing' by the end. I can only really say that one of them will be deserving of this (from an outside perspective), but the other two will be in respect to how the story plays out.
Next Chapter: The Diary