A/N: Sorry about the wait. Tests and everything kind of caught up on me, along with work. So, here's the third chapter, right along with the second. Thanks for the support in the reviews. I will try to keep a more regular schedule, and like hornet07, if there are any mistakes, point them out and I will try to fix them. Chapter 1 has been replaced with an edited version. Thanks.

August 31, 1994

Harry inhaled deeply, and then with his exhale, started channeling his Ice. That was the best way he could think to describe it. It was his, a part of him. The rules for conjuring ice as an elemental were similar to every other. It could be done without any gesture or signal, wandlessly and wordlessly, although many people found it easier to do one of those, almost like muscle memory. And it truly was like a muscle. While anything that you conjured came from your core, there were limits to what a beginner could do. In the beginning, a small ice crystal was all that could be managed, and took a very long time. So, practicing had the dual effect of training his core and his 'ice muscles'.

Ice was also different. He had almost total control over his Ice, and limited control over other ice, but his element was not one of the base elements. Air, Water, Earth, and Fire. There were other 'elements' like his. Lava could be considered a combination of Earth and Fire. Lightning could be considered a derivation of Fire and Air. But Ice was different. It was just water. And that made it special.

If there were any water, he could make it his Ice. He could not make any ice his, but water provided a loophole. Because of the way Ice was, he could change it back and forth, but couldn't change it to steam. It was too different. Harry knew basic chemistry, but magic was all about intent, visualization, and the physical aspects of the two substances just clashed in his mind.

Channeling took very little time, not even a second when he was calm and already concentrating. But, if we were to suddenly be in a threatening situation, it might take about five. It used to take 30 even when he was concentrating. That was the goal: to be able to channel instantly.

Before Harry even started to inhale again, his hair had taken on the white tone he was so used to, and he could feel his power thrumming, waiting to be unleashed. When he stood, he covered everything in a five foot radius in frost. Then he conjured a piece of circular, flat ice. He used his makeshift mirror to look at his reflection, and traced the scar he had. It was one of the things he liked the most about his 'transformation.' After all, he rather liked his jet black hair. His scar originally is one sixth of what he has now, pointing upwards. But, when he is channeling his ice, it reflects, like a kaleidoscope, to form the shape of a snowflake, centered on his right eye.

Harry found hand gestures to be the easiest way to conjure his Ice. It gave direction to his intent. He threw a ball up, and quickly shot his hand forward. Five icicles all grew from the ground, heading towards the ball before trapping it between the icicles, stopping when they hit a tree trunk.

He didn't want to risk being seen, after all he was only 150 yards out from Potter Manor in the woods. He quickly finished his exercises before trying something. It was not something he had tried before, but as a derivation of something he had done before…

Harry drew his hands in, closing his eyes and visualizing what he wanted. He splayed his hands and extended them out slowly, before opening his eyes to see… nothing.

Or at least, that's what it looked like. But really, it was hundreds and hundreds icicles, surrounding him 360 degrees around from head to toe. He yelled and pushed out, sending the ice everywhere, before collapsing, breathing hard.

'I have to be careful next time I try that. It wasn't even as much ice as the wall, and yet it still drained me.'

Once he had regained his breath, he started walking back home, clearing all trace of what he had practiced. Harry didn't want to bring too much attention to himself, and so kept his status a secret. At best, he would just be brushed off as wanting attention, and at worst, be called a freak and locked up. Keeping the status quo was just fine with Harry. At first, he might have wanted fame. But he saw what it did to Thomas. It made his arrogant, cocky, and weak. It was also an enemy. The only people who knew about his powers were Susan and Hannah. And he supposed the girl at the World Cup.

'I wonder how she's doing right now.' Harry, despite his neglectful upbringing, or maybe because of it, had a 'saving people' thing. He couldn't help but help. 'It would be fantastic if she doesn't remember much of that night. I really don't need people looking for me. Although they'll have a hard time finding me from her description even if she does remember,' Harry smirked to himself.

Jean Sebastian was being run ragged by his eldest daughter. She wouldn't stop asking about the man who had saved her. The boy rather. Jean Sebastian had looked over the Pensieve memory; wonderful things those were, able to recreate perfect memories. He spent a long time combing the memory, for any hint of an identity, but any flashes of spellfire that might have shed some light on the boy's identity either were dulled due to the ice or never reached far enough under his hood.

The boy was undoubtedly skilled, and his daughter's description was accurate, but a Pensieve was so much better.

Firstly, he saw that the boy was battling some drunks, not Death Eaters (although Fleur had never implied as such). Sebastian thought he might have caught a hint of contempt in the boy's posture, but he couldn't be sure. With this new information, he reevaluated, thinking he could have taken the drunks. But for a teenager?

Secondly, Fleur's description was close, but not quite correct. In that situation, his hair could have been mistaken for the platinum blonde that the women in his family had, but it was actually white. What was curious was that he couldn't see that hair at the tent, but chalked that up to the distance.

But, Fleur's description of the boy's eyes had been spot on: cold and hard as rocks, although when he looked at Fleur, they seemed to soften ever so slightly. But, what was REALLY interesting was his daughter.

Jean was amused at his daughter's antics. She had never been so interested in a male before. He supposed ijt was in part due to gratitude, in part due to pride. The fact that someone so young could be so strong.

What he found most odd was the ice though. Wandless magic next to impossible except for some of the strongest wizards, or the weakest of magics. It just that, without a wand or some other kind of focus, there is a lot of dissipation of magic, so wandless magic, while faster and convenient, is also inefficient. Even the boy used a wand. But, whenever it came to ice, he would merely gesture with his hand. He figured that this would be the best way to find him. He believed that this boy was deeply connected to ice in some way, given the light emanating from his eye.

The light that went across his face was definitely a snowflake. Fleur couldn't see that well due to being dizzy, but the Pensieve allowed Jean to clearly see it.

As head of the MML (Ministry of Magical Law), had contacted other heads of countries' respective Law Enforcement departments. Not a single one had an Auror on the force matching the description, nor had any of them heard of such a person. There was no record, good or bad, of such a person.

He eventually focused his search on the British Isles, based on the accent and the fact that the Quidditch World Cup was in Britain at the time. He wished that he could follow his daughter to Britain for the tournament, but he couldn't very well leave the Ministry.

"Fleur."

"Yes, Papa?"

"You know the boy you wanted me to find?"

Fleur's eyes lit up. "Did you finally find him?"

Jean Sebastian shook his head. "No. But, seeing as school is starting soon, I want you to look out for him."

Fleur looked confused at this. "Does he go to Beaubaxtons?"

"No, but based on his age and other factors, I believe that he will be at Hogwarts."

Fleur nodded her head in understanding. "The tournament."

"Indeed, which reminds me…" Fleur steeled herself for the impending argument she was sure to come. "Are you absolutely sure you want to enter this tournament? If you really do, your mother and I won't stop you. But, just be careful, ok?"

Fleur was slightly taken aback, but composed herself. "Of course I will Papa, don't worry," she said, trying to comfort her father.

At dinner that night, her mother also brought up these topics. "So, Fleur, did your father help you find your crush?"

Fleur blushed slightly, before snapping back, "He's not my crush. I'm just curious as to who he is."

Apolline just nodded with a knowing smile, which only set Fleur off more. Gabrielle just giggled.

"Even Papa is interested in the boy!"

Apolline looked over, now slightly more interested.

"Jean?"

"It's more a matter of the magic he was wielding. It was almost as if the ice was an…"

"A what?"

"An extension of himself… Excuse me."

He went upstairs to the library, muttering under his breath and running his hands over the titles of the books. Finally, he found the one he was looking for.

"Vieille magie." He never thought he would open this book except for a disconnected sense of nostalgia or yearning for magic that wasn't in the world anymore. But, that might no longer be the case as he hurriedly flipped through the book until he got to the page he wanted.

"Elementals."

A/N: This is edited in

Vieille magie: old magic.