I may not upload as frequently as before because I have taken a request for a new story. I will try to upload weekly but it might not be exact. Anyway, this one is 2k. Harry gets to Hogwarts in this one. On to the story:
The stirring of ingredients is not to mix the ingredients together. Rather, it is to create certain magical effects that counteract and build together to create an end result. For example, an antidote to poison could have monkshood flowers and crushed bezoar. The stirring of the potion will amplify the already magical properties of these ingredients. Most students never fully grasp this concept, and as a consequence are only average potioneers. In order to become a Master, you need to fully grasp this concept.
While this sounds simple, it is anything but. The base concept is simple, but there are many factors inside stirring that the average potioneer is not aware of. Masters use Mage Glasses to see the deeper effects of stirring. In "Intermediate Potions", this topic is covered more in depth.
Harry sighed and closed the book. Without being able to test any of the spells he had learned this summer, he was strictly confined to books. Harry had never been a big studier, but he was determined to change that this year.
He had been studying magical theory, and understood how to cast pretty well now. The best lesson he had learned so far was efficiency. Once someone has reached their full potential in terms of power, they must reduce their magical "fingerprint" so that it stains less. A more efficient caster is better than a more powerful caster.
Harry got up from the bed and checked the clock on his nightstand: 11:32 p.m. He went over to the calendar on the wall. Tomorrow he was taking the train to school.
He couldn't wait to try out the new spells. In the meantime, he had created a spellbook, writing down all the useful spells he had read about. Harry put his book on his nightstand and went to bed.
Chaos, Creation, And The Inbetween
"Take him, Lily!" Dad shouted.
Mum grabbed me and ran into a room I hadn't gone into before, dragging objects in front of the door to block it. I could sense something was wrong, but I didn't know what. Mum did something to her skin and bright red blood gushed out. She started drawing with it and then chanting.
She dragged a rug over the drawing on the floor and grabbed me. I pointed to her arm. "Boo-boo? Boo-boo?"
"Yes, Harry. Boo-boo." She said, as a tear dropped from her face.
"Sad? Mum sad?" I asked, not knowing why she was crying.
A bang came from outside and the door blasted open. A man came in. He looked mad.
"Step aside," he said.
"No, take me, anyone but me, not my Harry, please," Mum begged.
The man shot a green light at Mum and she fell to the ground, as if sleeping.
"Mum! Mum!" I shouted. My fists clenched, and the lights flickered. I writhed in my crib, shouting.
"Avada Kedavra!" The man said as an emerald light hurtled towards me.
"Gah!" Harry cried as he sat up suddenly, banging his head on the ceiling of the cupboard. He rolled over in bed and pulled the sheets higher over his body.
That man must be Voldemort. He killed Mum.
Harry clenched his fists as the lights flickered, mirroring his baby self on October 31, 1981.
I'll kill him. I just need knowledge, power, and then…
Harry sighed, knowing that he was a very long way away from that. This Voldemort guy had had decades learning magic.
Harry had none.
I'll need some kind of advantage, a surprise that no one else would think of. Maybe a gun?
Harry put aside his fantasies for now and got up to cook breakfast.
His aunt hollered, "Come-" and then saw him, dropping off.
Harry, resigned to his situation, started cooking the bacon and the eggs.
Vernon came into the kitchen after about 10 minutes. Harry held his mouth, thinking that Vernon would be less opposed to driving him to the train station if he already had food.
Harry finished making breakfast and put it on the table. He slowly ate his meager portion, subsisting more on fantasies of torturing the Dursleys for eternity once he had his magic.
After Vernon finished his breakfast, Harry tentatively spoke, "Could-could you dr-drive me to the train station to-today?"
Harry didn't really have a stutter, but he'd learned that people were more likely to give you things when you acted weak. It made them feel strong and more inclined to be generous.
"Yes," came the brusque reply, and Harry mentally fist pumped.
He cleared the dishes with gusto, and packed all of his books, his wand, his cauldron, robes, and potion supplies into his magic backpack.
The contents weren't very organized, and Harry made a note in his journal to buy some shelves.
Vernon walked out with Harry, still unhappy that he was going to Hogwarts. He had been firmly against the idea when he learned that Harry had been accepted into "a school for freaks," and clearly didn't want Harry learning magic to use against him.
However, when Harry bluffed that McGonagall had agreed to turn them into mice if he said he couldn't go, Vernon changed his stance. Added to the fact that he didn't have to see Harry for 8 months, he had reluctantly agreed.
It was a short and silent ride into London, but Harry didn't mind. His mind was racing with the possibilities of magic.
When they arrived, Harry jumped out and grabbed his stuff. "Goodbye, Uncle Vernon." He said.
Vernon didn't reply, just drove off, clearly glad to be rid of Harry.
Harry climbed into the underground, looking for Platform 9 and ¾. He didn't know where it was, and McGonagall hadn't enlightened him.
He intended to wait and observe, and see who else was looking for it.
Just then he heard someone say loudly, "You're next, Fred."
Fred complained, "It's George, Mum."
"Fine, go through George."
Harry walked around a pillar just in time to see George or Fred run straight through a pillar and disappear.
Interesting. A portal or an illusion?
"Go through, Fred!" The mother said, clearly annoyed with the other twin.
God, she sounds like a harpy. Must be a hell of a lot of muggle-repelling charms here.
Harry waited until the redhead family had all gone through before walking through with his backpack.
On the other side was a gleaming red and black train titled "Hogwarts Express."
People were rushing onto the train and securing compartments, saying goodbye to their parents and loved ones, and chattering excitedly amongst themselves.
Harry pulled a Chelsea cap from his bag and put it on his head. He inconspicuously made his way into an empty compartment and pulled out First-Year Spells by Miranda Goshawking.
He disguised himself because he had read all about his fictional adventures. He understood McGonagall's warning about being mobbed now, and he was disgusted.
He was basically an A-list celebrity. The only concrete thing known about him, though, was his lightning bolt scar, so if he hid that, nobody would be able to recognize him. For now.
He had no doubt that his life would be followed even more than the celebrities in the gossip magazines. That meant that it would be very important to take control of the media. Knowledge is power and if he controlled what people knew, he had power.
Just then, a girl entered wearing dark green robes that hugged her form. She had long black hair and green eyes like Harry's. She was very, very pretty.
"Can I sit?" She asked.
"Sure," Harry gushed.
"Lyra Drake," she said, offering her hand.
"Harry Potter," Harry said, lost in a haze induced by the pretty girl. "Shit!"
"Potter?" The girl inquired. "The one who defeated Voldemort?"
"Yup," escaped Harry's lips.
Jesus, fuck, what a fucking impression!
He mentally slapped himself.
Lyra delicately raised her eyebrows, then pulled out a book.
Relieved, Harry went back to reading.
He kept sneaking glances at her, thought, and finally asked, "Which house are you going to?"
"Slytherin." She said.
"I'm going to Gryffindor. It's the house of the brave." Harry said.
"Why are you going there?" She asked.
"It's where Albus Dumbledore went, Kingsley Shacklebolt went, and other great wizards. Godric Gryffindor himself founded the house." Harry responded.
"Great wizards have come from Slytherin, too. Don't forget that Salazar Slytherin founded that one." Lyra refuted his argument.
"That's true…" Harry said thoughtfully. Had he been too rash in his decision to go to Gryffindor?
"Plus, if you want to be a great wizard, that means you want to be powerful," Lyra said, pressing her advantage. "Slytherin is the house for the cunning, the ambitious, the smart. Rushing in bravely like a Gryffindor will get you killed, but sitting back and attacking slyly will keep you alive."
Lyra appealed to Harry's heart with the last 2 lines.
"That makes sense," Harry said. "Thank you."
"No problem." Lyra said. "Just one thing. I don't know anyone at Hogwarts and I presume you don't either."
Harry shook his head.
"I need someone I know. Friends?" Lyra stuck her hand out again.
Harry shook it again, but more genuinely this time.
The rest of the ride passed pleasantly as the two discussed their new life and the possibilities of magic. Lyra also wanted to become powerful, and Harry was glad that they were friends.
After a while, Harry excused himself to change into his black and green robes, in honor of Slytherin. They chatted for a little while more until the train shuddered to a stop. Harry took his backpack and Lyra took her trunk, casting envious glances at Harry's backpack.
A giant of a man called out, "First years, follow me! First years, this way!"
Harry and Lyra followed the giant and got into a boat together with another girl who introduced herself as "Gani, short for Ganymede."
Gani had brown hair and brown eyes, but a mischievous air around her that made Harry think that Hogwarts had a new resident prankster.
He was talking with Gani when the school came into view, a huge castle illuminated by the moon. It was truly a beautiful sight as they glided along the dark lake.
All the first years went quiet as they observed it.
Soon, they were drifting into a cave. Everyone disembarked and followed the giant through a huge set of mahogany doors into a small room.
McGonagall was there, and she explained the process of choosing a house: "The sorting hat will decide what house is best for you. Once I read off your name, simply place the hat on your head, and you will be sorted."
She started calling names off a roll of parchment.
"Abott, Hannah."
"Botts, Terry."
"Cratt, Perry."
"Drake, Lyra."
"Granger, Hermione."
"Malfoy, Draco."
"Potter, Harry."
Harry took off his Chelsea cap and put it into his backpack. He stepped out of the room.
The hall cheered as they watched the savior of the wizarding world put on the tattered hat sitting on a simple wooden stool.
Harry sat and put the hat on.
'Such an interesting mind. Oh my, oh my, haven't seen one of these for years', the hat chuckled.
'So much potential, so much raw magic. You aren't loyal to anyone, so Hufflepuff is out. Ravenclaw is an option, but you are pursuing knowledge as a means to power, so Slytherin is probably your best option.'
'You could definitely do well in Gryffindor, too, though', the hat said.
'I want to go to Slytherin', Harry thought firmly.
'Oh ho ho, you're right. Very well, must be "SLYTHERIN!"
The hall was silent, but then there was small clapping, then more, then a thunderous ovation from Slytherin.
Harry smiled as he walked down and sat next to Lyra, waving to Gani in Ravenclaw.
There were a few more people to sort, but soon it was over.
A tall boy stood up and announced, "I am Adrian Pucey. I am the prefect for Slytherin. Follow me."
Everybody stood up and followed Pucey to the dungeons. Harry groaned at the fact that he had to share his room, and decided to share with Blaise Zabini.
Harry fell onto his bed and fell asleep immediately.
