In the last chapter: Harry and Draco take the train together. Harry is sorted into Ravenclaw, where he meets his new house mates, including Hermione Granger, Anthony Goldstein, and Michael Corner.

When his classes started up, Harry felt a renewed sense of anticipation knowing that his scores would actually reflect what he knew and could strive for more than 'no better than Duddlykins.' Harry found himself actually engaged in his lessons. That didn't mean that he was suddenly outgoing and answering every question, big or small, in class. Ravenclaws, it seems, are rather competitive when it came to academics and Harry would rather not bring so much attention to himself during class. There seemed to be a metaphorical war between Michael and Hermione for who could answer the most questions and rake in the most house points. So far, Hermione was winning.

There were bumps, of course. Such as the potions professor, Severus Snape. The man had been anything but subtle in his dislike for Harry. Harry didn't care for being the center of attention, it meant no privacy and people thinking that they have an opinion on his life. So, when Snape verbally berates him for fame he didn't ask for and tries to undermine him and everything he says, Harry finds it hard to hold onto the indifference he'd told himself he'd keep at the very first feast when he resigned himself to being the possible target for the older man's hatred.

Snape always tried to catch Harry on something he 'should' know during his potions class, even if Harry knew for a fact that the topic couldn't be found anywhere in the textbook. The first time that happened and Harry was about to state as such, he was beaten to it by Draco, leveling his Godfather with an unimpressed look for such antics. Both Snape and Harry had been shocked by the young Slytherin's quick defense of Harry.

Another individual that was causing Harry undue stress was Michael Corner. When he was around, Anthony had taken to acting as Harry's buffer from Michael and his sidekick, Terry Boot. When Anthony wasn't around, though, Michael took every opportunity he could to insult and antagonize Harry. By the end of his first month at Hogwarts, Harry had acquired an extensive and colorful list of oaths and insults and threats to add to his vocabulary.

All in all, the entire situation served more as entertainment than anything. Michael knew that he couldn't do anything that would physically harm Harry or would leave any evidence to be used against him later, which left him with only words as his weapon of choice, for now.

Other than a few bumps here and there, Harry's time at Hogwarts was all quite enjoyable. After the first feast, Draco had practically dragged Harry over to the Slytherin table and pushed him down into the seat next to his. The older Slytherins didn't look happy if their sneers and glares were anything to go by, but the youngest generation of snakes that Harry had met briefly on the platform in Hogsmead all seemed glad—or at least tolerant—of his presence.

After the first few meals at the Slytherin table, Harry's new acquaintance, Anthony, had begun joining them. Out of all of the houses, Ravenclaw seemed to be the most amicable house towards Slytherins, and the Slytherin house apparently had the fewest members, so space wasn't an issue either.

It only took about a week and a half for their company to be expected at the table under green and silver banners. And only a few weeks more for Draco and a few of his Slytherin friends—mainly Pansy and Blaise—to start sitting with Harry at the Ravenclaw table as well.

They switched back and forth, but no matter which table they sat at, it always ended with Harry, Draco, and Anthony sitting together. Aside from just meals, they could usually be found together in library or out in the courtyard while the weather still allowed it. The three boys grew closer over time and for the first time, Harry had friends. He had people his age that he could talk to and laugh with and actually feel comfortable around.

Through all of that, Harry's other companion had never left his side. A usually silent and calming presence just over his shoulder, laughing at Anthony's jokes or commenting on how much he approved of the young Malfoy or quietly feeding Harry information on traditions and families and secrets that very few were privileged to.

At night, when everyone in his dorm room had long since fallen asleep, Harry talked with Death. He put up wandless privacy spells around his bed so that no one would wonder why he was still awake, and he'd have long conversations with his first friend. Harry's nights usually ended with him lying in bed, eyes half closed as he listened to his companion tell him stories.

Sometimes they were about things that Death had been witness to that he'd never forget. Sometimes he talked about the three Peverell brothers and the desperate and selfish deals they had made with Death, shouldering burdens that their minds, bodies, and souls could not withstand in the end.

Sometimes . . . sometimes Death told him stories about an infant Harry and stories about the people in his life. He'd heard the woeful tale of Severus Snape and his beloved Lily. He heard of the Marauders: of Moony, Padfoot, Wormtail, and Prongs. He heard of Peter Pettigrew's betrayal. Of Severus and the prophecy. It felt more like a long strange and gruesome bedtime story to Harry, rather than actual events that had an impact on his life.

Stranger so, the stories seemed to calm Harry. It grounded him to have all of the truths laid bare. The more of the timeline that was revealed, the clearer Harry's situation became. Once the dots were connected, it was easier to see where Harry stood in all of this, where he stood in correlation to everyone else. Harry's existence symbolized safety and the power to overcome to the public, that's why he was practically worshiped by the general populace and hated among the few that had hoped beyond hope that Voldemort would have succeeded in taking over Magical Britain.

But, out of all of the stories he was most troubled by Sirius Black and his wrongful imprisonment on Azkaban. His Godfather was currently in Azkaban for something he didn't do, and had been there for nearly a decade. Harry didn't know that man, but Harry knew injustice when he saw it. While Harry had been in his own personal hellish form of imprisonment, his Godfather had been in a similar, literal imprisonment. Harry felt a bazaar sense of comradery for the Marauder.

Harry had mauled over what he knew of the situation for almost a week before he decided that he would try to clear his Godfather's name and get him freed. Harry had two possible outcomes for his summer in front of him: either he is somehow able to avoid being sent back to his relatives and has to find another place to live during those three months, or he is forced back into the place he thought he'd escaped for three more hellish months. If his Godfather were freed, though, he could just live with him. If he could somehow pull off the first part, it would be the preferable option.

Which meant that Harry had to find a way to visit Sirius before summer break started. Hogsmead and winter break were the only times that students were able to leave Hogwarts unless under special circumstances or if they were given permission from their guardian. Two of those weren't options for Harry, though, because he was too young for Hogsmead trips just yet and his magical guardian was Dumbledore, and he doubted the Headmaster would be open to Harry going to Azkaban for an unsupervised visit. No, Harry's best option was to wait until winter break and then to sneak out while the wards were open to the comings and goings of students.

In the meantime, all Harry had to do was focus on his school work, enjoy his time with Anthony and Draco, and avoid dying so that no one would find out about his . . . ability. While Harry was successful in all three, it seemed that something was going on with the rest of the school.

It wasn't that far into the year that Harry had heard rumors of a couple of Gryffindors getting caught sneaking around in the third floor corridor that they had been warned away from the very first night that they were here. Draco had rolled his eyes and huffed about them being idiots and Anthony had strongly agreed.

Apparently one of the boys involved was none other than the redheaded boy who had been gossiping about Harry all that time ago. Draco said that he's a Weasley and therefore a blood traitor. Anthony had yelled at Draco for being so close minded, but Harry didn't really care. There were plenty of wizarding traditions and customs that were just down right ridiculous and more often than not silly in Harry's opinion. Muggleborn, Half-blood, Pure-blood, blood-traitor . . . it was all rubbish to Harry.

Anyways, according to the rumors going around, Ron Weasley and his mate Dean Thomas thought that the professors were hiding something in that third floor corridor. Harry thought that was obvious, otherwise they wouldn't forbid students from going there. Whatever it was, it was either very dangerous or very valuable, either way he wasn't going anywhere near there! Harry may be immortal, but dying hurts and saps your energy like nothing else! Whatever they're hiding there, it isn't worth it.

As a side-note, it seems quite reckless hiding something so volatile at a school full of magical children.

However, all of the detentions Weasley received ended up not being enough, since it wasn't more than a week later that Harry overheard him in class trying to cajole his other friend, Seamus Finnegan, into going back up there to check out a locked door he heard some strange noises coming from. Harry had just rolled his eyes and continued to listen to the lesson as the pair conspired behind him.

"A bunch of bloody idiots, if you ask me." Harry grumbled later after telling Draco what had happened as they found their usual table in the library. Draco snorted and he pulled the strap to his expensive leather school bag over his head and tossed it onto the table top with a carelessness that only came with growing up with excessive wealth. Harry set his own bag on the table and sat down across from the blonde who had sprawled out in his chair, slumped down and his feet kicked up on the seat of the chair next to Harry under the table.

"If they're sick of living, then that's their problem!" Draco said without any actual heat in his voice. He shifted a bit until he seemed to find a comfy position and closed his eyes, winking out the bright and expressive silver. Draco's expression melted into a sleep-like calmness and he folded his hands behind his head. Harry pulled out his charms paper that was due in two weeks and got to work, thinking that Draco was going to take a nap as he was known to do occasionally.

It was a bit strange how quickly the boy had gone from hating Harry on principle, to feeling comfortable enough around Harry to act completely himself and even sleep. Not that Harry was complaining, Draco was actually quite a good friend and conversationalist. Not to mention, Harry still found it both adorable and hilarious when Draco started talking about his father and his eyes sparkled like a doe-eyed child.

Sure, Draco may be acting this friendly because of who Harry is, since he made it clear the first time they'd met that Draco was interested in the advantages of a friendship with the Savior of the wizarding world, but Harry didn't really mind. A friendship with incentive is still far more than what he'd had back with his relatives before he knew about his non-human companion.

It wasn't that Harry was lonely exactly, he valued his ethereal companion over all else—even if he'd never admit it to the rutty narcissistic bastard—it's just that there were certain areas in which Death was lacking. Death didn't care for age; an entire wizard life-span was merely a blink in his eternal existence, which meant that he never treated Harry like a child. Harry was grateful! Of course he was, he didn't feel eleven and he didn't want to be treated that way, but there were times when he felt like a buffer of gentleness could have made something far easier. Like with his parents.

Harry knew of his parents, but didn't really know them. He knew that they were apparently good people and a brilliant witch and wizard, and that they fought on behalf of the light and his mother was a muggleborn while his father was a pureblood heir. But for all intents and purposes, they were strangers to Harry. But strangers or not, hearing about their death at such a young age with about as much deference as a reading of a grocery shopping list wasn't easy for an eight-year-old. The sneered at demise of two alcoholics was one thing, but that was something else entirely.

Harry didn't consider himself an innocent. He was raised in a house of hatred, prejudice, and abuse. Made to think that he was an abomination, that he was evil in every sense of the word. Harry has died twice and the hand of Death was a cold one that gripped the soul and squeezed out the warmth. Harry did not feel innocent, or even young anymore. But that didn't mean he didn't still crave it, that he wasn't drawn into the warmth of virtue like a moth to a flame.

Draco and Anthony were born to a world still raddled with fear and loss and doubt. They wouldn't be children for long and they had already felt the burnt scrape of reality, but there was still a fundamental innocence that came with the age and the protective shielding of adults. Anthony and Draco made Harry feel a semblance of normalcy, a second hand innocence when he allowed himself to be swept up in joking around and enjoying their first year at Hogwarts. Death always came with a price, but sometimes . . . sometimes Harry felt like the years of almost falling prey to 'balance' really had been enough payment and that there was innocence in him. It always felt the truest, the most believable around friends his own age. So, Harry was going to keep them close and see if time will bring it out of him, if there really is something in there.

"Harry?" Harry was jarred out of his pensive thoughts by Draco's hesitant and perhaps a bit apprehensive voice, causing Harry to look up immediately. Draco's eyes were open and he'd been watching Harry—for how long, he didn't know—with a slight crease between his pale brows.

"Yes, Draco?"

"What . . . what do you think they're hiding in there?" The serious tone caused Harry to take a moment in order to form a serious enough answer. Whether Draco was searching for platitudes and reassurances, he wouldn't get them from Harry. He should know as much after almost two months together.

"Honestly? I think they're hiding something dangerous. That, or they're hiding something valuable from someone dangerous. Either way, it has no business being anywhere near a school full of children. I don't know what in Merlin's name they're thinking, but I expect you, Anthony, and myself to all be smart enough to stay away." Harry finished with a warning look at Draco when the Slytherin finally met his gaze. Draco's eyes didn't linger for more than a second, though, before they were flicking over Harry's shoulder and Draco suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

"Professor Quirrell." Draco greeted as Harry turned to take in the turban toting and timid professor of DADA. Quirrell flashed a brief twitching smile before it vanished altogether.

"That is v-very good a-a-advice Mr. P-Potter. I d-d-do hope that you and Mr. Malfoy follow it." Professor Quirrell stammered with another hesitant smile. Everything about him was fidgety, nervous, and stuttering, except for his eyes. His pale blue eyes were trained on Harry, unblinking and intense. Harry was unnerved by the stare, but after months of witches and wizards alike acting as if Harry was some sort of spectacle, it didn't bother him as much as it probably should.

"Thank you, Professor." Harry stated impersonally with a blank look, not feeling up to the fake politeness he usually melted his Professors with as the beginnings of a rather fearsome headache crept up on him. Quirrell watched Harry for a moment longer than was strictly polite, before nodding once and striding away without saying anything more.

When Harry turned back around in his seat, he caught sight of the deep frown on Draco's face as his eyes trailed after the departing Professor. After another moment, Draco turned his frown on Harry and it morphed into something closer to concern.

"Quirrell gives me the bloody creeps! I don't like how he was looking at you. If he does anything, you tell me!" Draco stabbed a firm finger in Harry's direction and Harry didn't even try to hide his eye roll and overly fond smile.

"I can take care of myself Malfoy." Harry mockingly used his last name like the Gryffindors he was constantly butting heads with. Draco actually scoffed at Harry.

"Oh stuff it Potter! Everyone knows you're smart as a whip, but that doesn't mean you can go up against an adult! No offense, I know you said you practiced before you came here, but you just can't beat being born and raised in this world. I have years on you, Harry!" One of Harry's eyebrows reached up towards his dark hairline and he didn't say anything as the blonde ranted.

Harry wasn't insulted though, because underneath the undermining jabs was genuine concern. Harry knew that both Anthony and Draco felt quite protective of him, it wasn't strictly necessary considering . . . but it did make Harry feel good knowing that they cared enough to want to protect him.

Harry smiled fondly as he returned to his homework. If only they knew. . .

On the night of October 31st the students of Hogwarts entered the dining hall to find it festively decorated for Hallowe'en. Jack-o'-lanterns floated and bobbed in the air and the charmed night sky depicted on the ceiling was clear and dotted with stars. The air was scented with the aroma of various spices and the pumpkin juice was just a little spicier than usual.

Most of the first years gaped and pointed, some even ran into things as their eyes seemed glued on the décor. This happened to be one of the rare times when Harry and Anthony sat at the Ravenclaw table while Draco sat with the other snakes. It just seemed natural to sit at their respective tables while the houses celebrated. Nothing more to it.

While the other students seem enchanted by their surroundings, Harry noticed that Draco had scoffed at their antics and pointedly ignored everything but his meal, eating primly like the future aristocrat that he was. But Harry also noticed the blonde kept sneaking glances at said décor. Harry smirked as he watched Draco try to secretly marvel at the sight like the other first years while also coming across as haughty and unimpressed on the outside.

"Has anyone seen Granger?" Lisa Turpin suddenly asked the first year group at large, looking around with mild trepidation. It was only at that moment that Harry realized that his fellow year-mate was missing, and that she was almost always present at meals. The wild-haired girl always seemed to slip under the radar around them, always very quiet outside of classes. Now that Harry thought about it, he couldn't remember ever seeing Hermione with any sort of friend. Harry admitted to not really paying much attention to the female Ravenclaws, as he only really cared about Anthony and Draco.

The Morag girl made a disgusted sound, drawing the attention of those who had been thinking about what Lisa had said.

"I heard her sniffling and blubbering in the girl's bathroom. For the love of Morgana! The little mudblood is lucky that a few harmless hexes were all that was done to her." Morag huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, not directly admitting to being on the giving end of at least some of those hexes, but it was implied. Harry narrowed his eyes at the plain-faced pureblood brunette. Harry hated getting involved in things that simply weren't his business, but as far as he knew, Hermione's only offense was her blood and Harry was getting rather fed up with the ridiculous prejudices that seemed to plague half of the Hogwarts Wizarding population.

"Do you miss them?" Anthony asked out of nowhere, having obviously not been paying attention to the exchange happening in front of him. Harry couldn't decipher anything from Anthony's blank face, but he'd asked in a quieter tone so that those around them wouldn't overhear. Harry pursed his lips and turned back to his plate, forking a piece of warm turkey into his mouth before answering.

"You can't exactly miss what you don't know." Harry shrugged. "It'd be different if I had memories of them, but with nothing but tales of who they used to be, all I can mourn is the idea of them." Harry looked back up into Anthony's eyes before continuing, leveling the other boy with a serious expression. "So instead, I'll mourn for those who did know them and lost a friend, a loved one, a comrade, a . . . a sister. I'll mourn for the living because the dead have no use for our tears." Harry finished with a sad smile that was no more than a tightening of his lips.

Again, Harry was reminded of the Godfather imprisoned on a hellish island, a family friend alone and in pain because of a condition he couldn't help, and a Professor whose weeping wounds refused to heal. Anthony's grim face looked strained and slightly in pain, so Harry did the only thing he could think of and bumped shoulders with the taller boy and flashed a smile when he caught his attention.

"Enough of that, talk of death will only make good food taste bland, and that would be such a waste." Harry tried not to crack up at the affronted noise he heard over his shoulder from Death himself. Anthony's visage brightened several watts and they were both about to tuck back into their meals when they were interrupted by the dining hall doors suddenly being flung open with great force and a panicked Professor Quirrell running into the room screaming at the top of his lungs about a troll in the dungeon.

Panic was almost immediate as students screeched, Quirrell fainted, and the teachers yelled at kids to follow their prefects back to the dorms in a calmly manner, except for the Slytherins, which were to follow their head of house, Snape, to a safer area while everything was sorted. In the chaos that was the dining hall, Harry thought of the absent girl in his year as he slowly rose from his seat and followed the flow of students.

Harry thought Anthony had been swept away by the flood that was a mass of students frantically fleeing the hall, but when Harry slipped out of the raging current of students and into an abandoned side hall, Anthony was right behind him looking more than a little disheveled.

"Where are you going?" Anthony asked as he nearly tripped over his own feet in order to catch up with Harry's brisk pace. Harry didn't answer until they turned a corner and were out of sight from the students and staff alike.

"Granger wasn't at dinner, she won't know about the Troll and is therefore, in danger. As much as I despise getting involved, no one else seems to know she's gone, and those that do won't be willing to help her. You should go back to Ravenclaw tower with the others," Harry paused in his stride and turned his head to look Anthony with a put upon sigh, "But I know you won't because you're ridiculous and will insist on following." It wasn't a question, but Anthony nodded anyways.

Shaking his head, Harry resumed his quick pace towards the girl's bathroom near the dungeons where Granger was most likely to be. Harry wasn't sure if he was more amused or annoyed when Anthony took longer strides and put himself half in front of Harry like he was ready to play human-shield at a moment's notice. As funny and endearing as his and Draco's protectiveness of him had been before, Harry now worried that they might think him defenseless enough and do something stupid like get themselves hurt when Harry was perfectly safe.

They arrived at the corridor where the girl's bathroom could be found and already they could hear the destruction that must be taking place within. Worried that they might already be too late, they ran the rest of the distance to the entrance of the bathroom and found the towering Mountain Troll swinging its massive club towards the last intact stall where a pair of plain black shoed feet could be spotted through the space between the stall wall and the floor.

Reacting without even thinking, Harry flung out his hand and wrapped his magic around the club, stopping it dead in the air as the troll's hand slipped off of the handle. The Troll blinked dumbly at its empty hand for several moments, before it turned around to see the two new arrivals. Before anything else could happen, Harry sent a powerful stunner at the Troll in a beam of crimson light. The Troll was immediately rendered unconscious and teetered backwards, threatening to fall on top of the stall Harry had just saved. With a quick and heavy tug of his magic, the Troll was jerked forward so that it would fall on its face.

"Incarcerous." Harry finished, watching for a moment as the Troll was wrapped and bound in ropes in case it wasn't found by the professors before the stunner wore off. Speaking of, they needed to leave, quickly!

Harry turned to the frozen Anthony, who was still staring wide-eyed at the unconscious Troll. "Anthony," Harry snapped to get the shocked boy's attention. "Get Hermione, quickly. We don't want to still be here when the Professors arrive, that Troll hasn't exactly been quiet." Seeming to have snapped out of his frozen state, Anthony jumped into action and quickly ran over to the now open stall where a very shaky and tear-stained Hermione was watching Harry with confused and wondrous wide brown eyes.

Anthony guided the stunned girl over the rubble and splintered wood and around the incapacitated Troll to where Harry stood at the entrance, watching the hallways carefully for anyone else while Anthony kept a firm hold on her elbow to keep her steady and upright. Harry gently gripped Hermione's other elbow and they quickly led her away from the utterly destroyed bathroom and towards Ravenclaw tower. It took only a full minute for Anthony to break.

"What that bloody hell was that?!" Anthony exclaimed, though Hermione still seemed too dazed to even flinch at the sudden outburst, and Harry kept a blank mask over his features and abstained from saying anything as Anthony went on. "Wandless magic?! You can do wandless magic and you never even told me? That-that's not even possible! Those weren't even simple spells. Tell me I'm not going crazy, Harry, tell me I just didn't see your wand!" Anthony sounded slightly hysterical, which, granted, was understandable considering the dangerous situation they were currently fleeing from. Harry glanced at the vacant witch between the two of them nervously.

"Anthony, we'll talk about this later." Harry warned, but apparently later was right now because Anthony stopped short, forcing Harry and sequentially Hermione to stop as well. Anthony let go of Hermione, and seeing that she could stand just fine on her own, Harry did the same so that they could face each other for whatever was coming.

"Since when could you do wandless magic?" Anthony asked incredulously, saying that last part like he still didn't quite believe in its validity. Harry heaved a heavy sigh, knowing that he couldn't attempt to obliviate his friends considering he'd never done it before and still only knew the theory of it. Harry knew that telling Anthony was a leap of faith. Harry trusted him, but hadn't known him for nearly long enough to feel comfortable spilling secrets of that magnitude. Without any other options, Harry dove in and offered as little as he could get away with.

"For a while now, pretty much since I found out I was magical when I was eight. I didn't have a wand and my accidental magic was getting me in trouble with my muggle relatives. I had to find a way to control it. I . . . I didn't tell you—or anyone, for that matter—because I came into this world with so much attention already on me for something that happened ten years ago, something that wasn't even really my doing. Now, can you imagine the insanity that would follow the news that everyone's precious savior was pretty damn good at wandless magic among other things?! It would turn me into either the next dark lord for those who'd fear me, or a bloody messiah for those who hailed me!

"You know how much I hate all of the exposure and unsolicited opinions as is. I am trying to rid myself of that burden, not settle it more firmly on my own shoulders." Harry rested a hand on Anthony's shoulder and pleaded with the other boy through his eyes. "You're my friend, Anthony, and I truly care about you . . . but this is my life! If people get it in their heads that I'm anything more than an average Ravenclaw first year, it will change everything. My life would no longer be my own. Please, understand my reasons and forgive my omissions." Harry stared into the deep hazel of his friend's eyes that seemed to be such a true reflection of the churning turmoil going on in Anthony's head.

For a few long moments, Harry wasn't actually sure what would happen and how his friend would react, but then, just as the dread Harry didn't know he could feel so fiercely settled into his gut, Anthony sighed and nodded with a faint smile ghosting over his lips. Harry didn't even hesitate before leaping into Anthony's arms and practically strangling the other boy with his arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Anthony laughed and patted Harry's back soothingly as Harry's body flooded with relief. Harry hadn't known he would be effected by his friend's approval so much.

When they pulled apart, they both caught sight of the previously frozen witch silently tip toeing away from them at the same exact time. Harry cast a quick wandless sticking charm on her shoes.

"Oh no you don't. Like it or not, you heard some sensitive information and I can't just let you go about on your own." Grinning, Harry glanced at Anthony, who wore a similar expression having caught on to what Harry was doing, then shifted his gaze back to the witch in question who had turned her body enough to look at him from over her shoulder. "You're in this with us, Granger. So what do you say? Friends?"

Hermione's face lit up like a Christmas tree and she nodded excitedly. Harry unstuck her shoes and the three Ravenclaws walked back to Ravenclaw Tower without any trouble. Harry went to sleep that night feeling lighter than ever before and excited to have someone new to call a friend.

Anthony didn't fall asleep right away that night like Harry. He lay awake for a few more hours, staring up at the royal blue—almost black in the darkness—and replaying over in his head that feeling that shot through his body when Harry first used wandless magic right next to him. Being sensitive to magic, it felt like the entire bathroom was suddenly flooded with magic so thick it was hard to breathe. Anthony had felt so . . . alive! It felt like live currents of euphoric magic were shooting up through his fingertips and curling around each organ and muscle. He had nearly started giggling with the high of it.

To know that what he'd felt the first time he'd met Harry was only the tip of the iceberg of his magic left him feeling a bit disoriented. If Harry was carrying around that much raw power at all times, Anthony would protect him from the rest of the world. Harry had been absolutely right; if the public found out about this, he would either become a weapon for their blasted cause, or he would become the next dark lord in their eyes. So Anthony would do anything to keep that from happening and protect his friend. No matter where life led Harry Potter, Anthony would be by his side.