Albus Dumbledore was concerned. Despite what his colleagues might think, he actually had a very good reason for hiring one Gilderoy Lockhart to become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He had several other people he was considering but in the end it was Lockhart who he felt best suited his purposes. After all, even though Dumbledore was well aware the ex-Ravenclaw was a fraud, was possibly the least magically talented of all the candidates for the position, there was one thing that Dumbledore couldn't deny: he milked his fame for all it was worth.

And he was good at it, too. He was really good at it. Gilderoy could be trusted to go after any means to gain more fame and Hogwarts offered that to the man because of one very big detail: Harry Potter. Dumbledore had been counting on that fact. Harry Potter had been so far so unpredictable that Dumbledore was about at wits end with the boy. He was only grateful that he had enough power over the boy that he was still able to force the child to go back to the Dursely's in time to prevent the collapse of the wards. So long as those were in place in ensured that his little soldier would survive until it was time for his final battle.

A pang of regret one again went through the old man. Truly, if he thought there was another way, a way that would end with Harry surviving this whole mess, Dumbledore would grasp onto it with both hands. But the more the thought about the prophecy, the more it made sense.

The One with the Power to vanquish the Dark approaches, born as the seventh month dies…Again and again revealed, again and again survived…thrice born before, now once again arisen: the Lord of the Light approaches…born of the light, marked by the Darkness and claimed as its own…imbued with power known not, blessed with life ever renewed. Joined by a warrior of peace by his side, for neither can live unless the other survives…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark shall return as the seventh month dies.

It was so very obvious now that some things had already unfolded. Undoubtedly, Harry was the one with the power to vanquish the Dark. He had already shown the uncanny ability to survive the killing curse (though Dumbledore was hesitant to test to see if the boy were capable of surviving it a second time), and he had most definitely proved his magical power that year, despite his rather alarming habit of doing barely any actual written work. Harry had been born the last day of the seventh month.

Again and again revealed, that was a bit trickier. It could mean Voldemort. He was first revealed as Tom the orphan, then Tom the Prodigy, then Voldemort the Dark Lord. And Tom had most certainly survived many things. Thrice born before, perhaps this meant spiritual birth? Voldemort had considered himself "reborn" when he became the dark Lord. After that, something had caused his appearance to change drastically, as had his behavior. So, the next time Tom came back, it would be his fourth revelation.

Lord of Light, Harry was meant to be Lord Potter, a light wizarding family, and the marked by the Darkness. Though claimed as its own holds some measure of worry for Albus. Imbued with power known not, blessed with life ever renewed…well, Albus could only speculate and things wouldn't be perfectly clear until they had already happened, but that was the way with prophecies. 'Honestly, Sybil! Why couldn't your prophecy be as clear and concise as mine,' Albus thought to himself.

But that was all off track, the point was that Albus had hoped the influence of Gilderoy would have been enough to nudge Harry back onto the path Albus had intended the boy to be on. Harry seemed to care less that he was famous, sometimes Albus wondered if the oblivious child even knew. But Gilderoy would most certainly bring it to his attention, maybe even get the boy into the spotlight. It might pressure the child more into acting like the Golden Boy the public expected of him. As it was, Harry barely acted like a Gryffindor at all! Albus had fully expected the youngster to go after the stone the previous year, but Harry hadn't acted. And in his nonaction, the stone had fallen into the hands of Voldemort!

Albus had hoped, come the start of the school year that the extra positive attention, the fans, the spotlight would prompt Harry to act like James had during his Hogwarts carrerr: Like a Gryffindor.

But all that had backfired when the incompetent oaf had neglected to come to the teachers meeting, causing Lockhart and Harry to meet prematurely at Diagon Alley. Dumbledore didn't know what Gilderoy had done, but the front-page headlines were most alarming.

New Hogwarts DADA Professor Attacks Student!

Harry Potter Declares Blood Feud with Gilderoy Lockhart?

Lockhart Publicly Shunned by Prominent Pure-Blood Figures!

Malfoy and Weasley Feud, Over?

Potter Under Malfoy Protection!

What's worse is that Albus had belatedly realized that at some point Harry had transferred authority over his Wizengamot seats over to someone else, which, seeing as Albus didn't actually have any of his own, had pushed him from the status of Chief Warlock, giving that title to none other than Lucius Malfoy. Albus was sure that Lucius was behind it somehow, but he had no way of proving it, due mainly to the fact that he had no eyes and ears on the Wizengamot since Augusta stopped speaking to him after blaming him for Frank and Alice's condition, and the other Purebloods on the court refused to break their vows of secrecy for him.

Albus would have no choice to confront the boy about it come the start of semester.

*****1047*****

Ginny Weasley watched with envy as her youngest brother sat squished next to Harry Potter on the couch. The gorgeous raven-haired boy giggled as he whispered something into Ron's ear, something that made her blonde brother elbow his sharply in the ribs. Harry only laughed harder and kissed Ron chastely on the cheek, making Ron grin and wrap his arms around Harry's neck. It was all so sickeningly sweet, it made something ugly churn inside of her.

Ever since she was a little girl, she dreamed about meeting the famous, powerful, rich Lord Harry James Potter. He was practically a fairy tale prince, straight out of Beedle's stories. He was beautiful, uncommonly so, with his ghostly, expressive green eyes and his wild black curls, and his porcelain skin. Ginny didn't even care how small and slight he was like some girls might, because he made up for it with how powerful he was. And, oh, he was so kind. He didn't act like it sometimes, but how he acted towards Ron, Ginny wished desperately that somebody (preferably Harry himself) would act like that towards her.

But instead, it was her brother Ron who had won Harry's heart, seemingly by accident. And now the two of them were all but snuggled up on their couch, waiting for Professor Snape, of all people, to come and take Harry away. Harry, who was currently leaning on Ron's chest, eyes closed and lips curled upward with his arms clasped tightly about his best friend. Ginny's heart ached.

"S-s-so, H-Hary," Ginny tried to start, cursing her own shyness and the stutter that showed itself whenever she tried to talk to him. "W-what do you pl-plan to d-do the r-rest of the-the summer?" she asked, feeling her face burn red. But Harry didn't even seem to hear her, and she belatedly realized that he didn't answer to anything but "Sherlock". But Ginny had always hated calling Harry "Sherlock", especially ever since she found out he only called himself that because of Ron.

The fireplace glowed green, spitting sparks and revealing the glowering form of Severus Snape. His eyes immediately sought out Harry, and his shoulders seemed to slump a bit, making Ginny feel just the slightest bit curious. But then she saw Snape look at her father and grin almost evilly, and she had to fight a shudder that raced down her spine. Her older brothers always spoke of Snape like he was some kind of demon from hell, and so she didn't quite understand why poor Harry Potter was allowed to stay with someone like that.

Severus approached Harry and tugged on his hair. "Come brat, have you eaten?" Mum was the one that answered the professor.

"He had only a couple bites of food," she sniffed. Mum's cooking was a point of pride for her, so the fact that somebody like Harry Potter didn't seem to enjoy it was a sore spot for him. "He didn't even touch anything on his own plate, he just ate off of every body elses."

"Not everybody's" George corrected her from where he and his twin sat on the stairs playing some sort of muggle card game that Harry had taught them the last time he was here.

"Just Ronnie's" agreed Fred, wiggling an eyebrow at the blonde Weasley, who rolled his eyes and gently prodded Harry until he grudgingly began to move. Severus placed a firm hand on Harry's shoulder and looked down at him sternly. Harry, though, wasn't looking at him, he was still looking at Ron, trying to communicate something with his eyes.

"I trust he behaved himself?" Severus turned to Dad. Dad beamed.

"Oh, he was pure gold!" Arthur laughed fondly. "There was a little incident at the book store, but it was the fault of that blasted Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Mr. Lockhart is a grand wizard—" Mum began trying to defend the man but no one but Ginny seemed to pay her any heed.

"Indeed?" Severus asked.
Dad nodded solemnly. "Lockhart tried to force Sherlock into taking a picture with him, and Sherlock may have defended himself in an over the top way, but it was perfectly within his rights to do so, and honestly, I'd have done the same thing in his position. Unfortunately, the press tried to follow us around for the rest of the day. I suspect that's what put the poor boy off his dinner."

"Not like he ever eats anyway," Mum grumbled into her knitting.

Severus seemed to soften a bit, and even patted Harry's shoulder almost consolingly. "Nevertheless, you will eat when we get home, after your stomach has settled a bit." Harry frowned at the Potion Master, his bottom lip sticking out. Severus only rolled his eyes. "Come, Sherlock" and once again Ginny was amazed that the batty old Potion's Master had bent to Harry's desire to be called something so very random.

Ginny stayed quiet, watching, until the two of them had disappeared into the fire, then she wordlessly stood up and marched up to her room, pretty much just shoving the twins out of her way earning twin shouts of "Oi!" The icky feeling in her stomach was turning into anger. Why was it RON that got everything? Ginny was the only girl, and the youngest. All of her friends told her that usually the youngest girls were spoiled rotten. But not Ginny. No, it was always, "Poor Ronnie" this or "Sweet Ronnikins" that or "Oh, we mustn't do that, it might make Ronnie uncomfortable" or "Are we sure it'd be okay for Ron to do that?". Everything had always revolved around Ron for as long as she could remember.

Ginny wasn't sure what had changed from before, when she hadn't minded about this. Maybe it was because, before, Ginny understood that her "little" brother might not live to see Hogwarts, because of how sickly he was. Or maybe it was because even after Ron was healed and left for Hogwarts Ginny still felt like the forgotten middle child because all Mum and Dad ever talked about was "Oh, Ronnie's doing so well in Hogwarts!" "Ron's made Seeker? That's the youngest in at least a century!" "Ronald's best friends with The Harry Potter?". What was next: "Ron's the next coming of Merlin"?

Mum barely praised her when she managed to wandlessly transfigure her stuffed horse into a Pegasus. Neither of her parents even noticed when the rosebush she'd been tending to all year had randomly sprouted red and pink polka-dot blossoms. Dad had said nothing when Ginny had housed a Grindelow in the bathtub! He just took it back to the lake without a word! Honestly, it's like she was competing with Ron all year, and her brother wasn't even there!

Now, she'd be going to Hogwarts with Ron, and oh how much worse it would be. She would just be another Weasley, instead of the first female Weasley in four generations. Sure, she was still that, but nobody would care. Not when Bill was a warding prodigy that even the Malfoy's acknowledged for his skill. Not when Charlie was out in Romania taming dragons (which Ron had gotten to go see). Not when Percy was Prefect with perfect Os every years. Not when the twins were famous for their ingenious pranks and uniqueness. Not when John Weasley was the youngest Seeker in a century, a survivor of a unknown curse that had plagued him since infant hood, third in his year, best friend of Harry Potter!

No matter what she did, her brothers would have done it already. If she failed her classes, oh well she must have the twin's mind for school work. If she aced everything, oh she must take after Percy. If she was good at Quidditch, bloody Ron must have tutored her!

She may as well just drink and invisibility potion and be done with it. Because of her brothers, Ron especially, she was sentenced to a life of obscurity. The only thing that could have set her apart was becoming Harry's girlfriend. But it looks like Ron already beat her to THAT as well!

In her frustration, she kicked over her basket of new books (new only because Malfoy had bought it for her) sending them sprawling out in every direction across her floor. With a huff and a half-sob she dove onto her mattress, burring her face into her pillows, fists clutching almost painfully at her blankets. Fate must really hate her, in any other family, she'd be the favored child. She was the youngest, only girl, smart and pretty to boot. But, noooo! Not in the Weasley family. Not when Ron outshone them all.

Sniffling, she sat up, wiping at her eyes with the back of her wrists. Then she saw it, a little black notebook. Ginny frowned, swallowing down a last hiccup. She didn't remember putting that in her bag. It must have fallen in during all the chaos with Mr. Lockhart. She slid off her bed and sullenly crawled over to it, knees nudging across the carpeted floor. She picked up the notebook and flipped it both ways, examining each cover.

"T.M. Riddle" she read, disappointed. It was a second-hand notebook. Not that she was exactly new to such things. But it usually meant it was already full of scribbles. So she opened it and started thumbing through the leaves, expecting it to be stuffed with old class notes and doodles, but was pleasantly surprised to find that it was blank. Each and every page looked brand new.

Smiling slightly, she stood, briefly massaging her now slightly rubbed knees, and stepped over various piles of laundry and spilled books to a cup sitting on her window sill that held various writing utensils. She selected a refilling quill with purple ink, then went back to her bed and sat down, scooting backwards until she was leaning against her wall. Checking over her shoulder to make sure her door was still closed and no nosy older brother was spying on her, she opened it up to the first page and poised the quill nub onto the paper.

I wonder what it says about me that I wish my brother were still a cripple. At least then it was easy for me to accept why everybody fussed over him. But now he's fine, and Mum and Dad still never seem to think about anything but him.

Ginny paused, to think of what to say next, brushing the brown feather of the quill across her lips, staring up at her far wall. She'd never kept a diary before, too afraid that one of her brothers would read it. But, honestly, nobody even thought about her anymore, so there was really no danger of somebody going through her things. That, and she really needed to rant to somebody, and nobody in her family would be very happy with her if she told them what was on her mind.

Having decided on the next sentence, she looked back down at the paper, only to find that the words were slowly disappearing. At first, she was angry, thinking it was just some sort of prank item that the twins had slipped into her basket. She made to chuck the thing out her window, but then paused as she realized such a notebook was perfect for her. She could write whatever she wanted and nobody would ever be able to just pick it up and read it. Content once more, she opened it back up, only to find that her words had not only disappeared completely, but were gradually being replaced by difference ones.

Nothing bad I assure you, it's completely unreasonable that they continue to fuss over him now that he no longer needs the attention. I assume he's your younger sibling, then?

Ginny paused, slightly alarmed. Who was writing back to her? Not one of her brothers, because of that last sentence. Was this notebook connected to another one somewhere else? But how had this unknown person known to look at their own book so quickly after she had written that last bit down. Biting her lip, she hesitantly wrote back.

No, my older sibling. I'm the youngest of seven and the only girl on top of that. May I ask, what sort of notebook is this?

The answer was very quick to come.

Well, that makes your parents' actions all the more unreasonable. Seven siblings? I honestly don't know how you survive. And to answer your question, my name is Tom. I put a copy of my memories in a spare notebook, so I could talk to myself whenever I needed to work through a problem. I suppose I lost it at some point. It's probably been years. How did you find my book? And, please, what year is it?

Ginny breathed out a sigh of relief. What a clever idea Tom had! And how perfect for Ginny! She had an unbiased trapped audience to rant to whenever she wanted. Smiling, she twirled her quill and answered her new friend.

It's 1992, Tom. I found this book in a stack of books I bought this morning from Diagon Alley. I think it fell in by mistake. An author was there signing books, and he saw my friend, Harry Potter, who's a bit famous, and just about attacked him! In the chaos all my books spilled and another friend of my family, Draco Malfoy, helped me pick them back up. He probably put it in my basket by mistake.

During my time in Hogwarts I knew boys by the names of Charlus Potter and Abraxes Malfoy. I assume they are related? What's your name, by the way?

Ginny Weasley. And, yeah. I'm pretty sure your friends are the grandparents of mine! Draco's pretty nice, even though my family didn't used to like his.

I've heard about the Weasley-Malfoy Feud, but I was never told what caused it.

Probably because nobody remembers anymore.

How humorous! May I asked what ended it?

Harry Potter. I told you he's famous? Well, because of that Draco Malfoy decided to be his friend, I think. And now they're really good friends, and Harry even spent part of the summer at their manor, where he met the Malfoy parents, and I guess Mr. Malfoy was really fond of him, because he even said that Harry was under his family's protection the other day with the whole book signing fiasco. And anyway, my family adores him because he's the one that cured my brother from his…crippleness. I guess he sort of just brought our families together by accident.

This Harry sounds rather exciting. How'd he cure your brother?

He's amazing, Tom. When he was only a year and a half old, he vanquished a Dark Lord! The Dark Lord was after his family, and after he killed his parents the Dark Lord tried to kill Harry. But he's just so powerful that the killing-curse rebounded on the Dark Lord and killed him instead. At least, that's what Dumbledore says. Harry said it had something to do with a blood magic ritual his mother performed. But since Harry was a baby he couldn't possibly remember. Anyway, we're not sure what Harry did to cure Ron. Ron says Harry just told him his limp was all in his head and he magically got better, but Dad told me once that when Ron was a baby, an intruder broke into our house. But they went to the wrong room, and when Ron woke up and started crying they were frightened away. But before they left they cursed him. It messed up his magic and his leg, so he always used to walk with a limp, and the doctors thought he was a Squib. We were so surprised when he got his Hogwarts letter, he'd barely shown any signs of magic. But then next we know, he's walking without a limp and he's the third best in his year! (Harry's the first). Dad thinks that Harry cured him, but because Harry doesn't like the spotlight, he's pretending he didn't do anything.

He sounds like a wonderful person. You two must be very close. What was the Dark Lord's name, the one that he conquered? And who does he stay with, since his parents were killed?

I wish we were. But it's Ron that's Harry's best friend. They practically hang off of each other. My other brothers say they act like they're married. Just a little while ago, when Harry was here, I saw him give my brother, Ron, a kiss. I have to admit, Tom, I'm rather jealous of Ron. I'd give anything to date the Harry Potter. But he never even notices me when Ron's in the room. As for the Dark Lord, I think you spell his name Voldemore, but I'm not sure because I don't hear it said out loud often. In fact, now that I think about it, only Dumbledore and Harry Potter ever say his name out loud. I suppose that makes sense, though. They're both the most powerful wizards of this age, everybody says so. So I suppose they've got nothing to worry about. Harry used to live with his muggle relatives, his mother was a muggle-born you see. But they treated him really badly. It's horrible Tom. They starved him and locked him up. They treated him like a House Elf! But because everybody loves him so much, he even managed to charm the Hogwarts Potion Professor, Severus Snape. Snape doesn't like anybody. All my brother's say he's the meanest person to ever live. But he actually decided to adopt Harry. And according to Harry, he's really nice to him too, and he gives him medicine to make him healthier, since the muggles starved him so much that now there's something wrong with his stomach. He doesn't like to eat much.

Those horrible muggles! How terrible! I'm so glad that Harry was adopted by a wizard, even if he's not the nicest person. But I guess if he's nice to Harry, that's all that matters. You say Harry's at the top of his class?

Yeah, and all the teachers love him, even though Ron told Dad he hardly ever bothers to turn in his homework. But it doesn't really matter in the end, because he got perfect scores on his end of year test in everything but Potions. Even Binns, who's a ghost and can't remember anybody, loves him. He always gives Harry points in class, but that's because Harry's an illusion magic prodigy, and he makes history class a lot of fun. The twins told me that the upper years come to watch Harry do illusions, because of how good it is. Even Dumbledore comes to watch him sometimes.

How impressive! Illusion magic is incredibly hard, but for someone who conquered a Dark Lord as a baby, it must be child's play. Who taught him? Dumbledore?

Nobody taught him. He's just super smart and powerful. I mean SCARY smart. He can just look at you and know EVERYTHING about you. Snape confirmed he doesn't even use Legilimency for it—that's reading minds, by the way. Harry called it Deducing. He says people unconsciously confess things through body language and little tells, like stains or creases on their clothing. It's very interesting. I'm not sure I'm explaining it very well, Tom. I'm sorry.

No! I perfectly understand. I wish I could meet him. He sounds fantastic! Tell me more! What does he look like? What else is he famous for? And you said he kissed your brother, are they dating or betrothed?

Ginny smiled broadly, feeling lighter than she had in years. She'd never had a confidant before. It was nice to have somebody to really just TALK to. Even though she had friends like Luna, she never really felt like she could really have a real conversation with them that wouldn't eventually get back to her family. Not only that, but ever since Ron and "Sherlock" became a thing, she hadn't been able to talk (read: gush) about Harry without people giving her weird looks.

With a content hum, she put the quill back to the page and continued writing her new pen pal. She never even noticed when the sun went down, just continued penning words down to the light of the moon shining through her bedroom window until she simply slumped over late that night, sleeping with the notebook clutched to her chest.

***1047***

Sherlock spent the majority of the rest of the summer at Spinner's End with Severus during the mornings and evenings, then at the Weasley's or Malfoy's during the afternoons. It was a pleasant way to live, Sherlock had to admit. It was nice to be a child, without anyone truly demanding anything of him, or expecting him to do something, or getting mad at him for not acting "proper". In fact, if Sherlock started getting too quiet or still, it rather worried Severus, which tended to prompt the man to propose an outing. This usually pulled Sherlock out of whatever slump or sulk he'd been falling into.

He'd gained a bit of weight that summer, between Severus glowering at him over the table if he tried to eat anything less than half of what was served him, or Molly Weasley practically shoving things down his throat (because of this he usually ate less at the Weasley's Burrow) or Narcissa Malfoy constantly having dishes of his favorite meals constantly on hand ("It's alright if you don't feel like eating now darling, just be sure you nibble now and then when you are."). It would have caused his vanity to rear up in protest had he not also gained about four inches in height. John hadn't grown as much, but he was still far taller than Sherlock. Something Sherlock secretly enjoyed.

Of course, since he'd gotten his books for that year, Severus had been making him read and reread them for an hour twice a day. By the time August 31st rolled around, he'd finished each of them at least twice. And not only that, but the Potion's Master had begun quizzing him over dinner. Not that Sherlock ever failed to answer a question correctly, but it was still rather insulting to the young genius that his guardian didn't put more faith in his abilities.

Before he realized it, the summer was completely over. In fact, Sherlock must have deleted the date because he hadn't remembered until Severus asked him over the stew he'd made for dinner "Have you finished packing yet?"

Sherlock had paused, spoon halfway dipped in the thick broth. "For what?" he asked, bewildered. Severus raised an unimpressed eyebrow as he tried to discern whether or not Sherlock actually had forgotten.

"For school, you halfwit," Severus dropped head into the palm of his hand. "I'll be dropping you off at the station tomorrow. Early, so it must be packed tonight. You'll get on that after dinner, then you'll bathe and go to bed," Severus said firmly with no room for argument. Sherlock hurumped and pushed a lump of meat around his bowl.

"Why the station?" Sherlock asked. "You'll be taking the Floo to your office, won't you? Why can't I?" Severus leveled a weary gaze at his ward.

"Reasons, Sherlock."

"What reasons?"

"Adult reasons"

"You haven't got any reasons, you just want to get rid of me for the day!"

"Eat your stew." Severus reached across the table to the bread basket, where he grabbed a soft, warm, buttery roll and began ripping off a chunk to dip in his stew. "I thought you'd want to take the train. You'll get to reinforce your dominance over your brainless minions."

"They're goldfish not brainless."

"Of course, how rude of me."

****1047****

Severus came into his room at seven thirty the next morning, to find Sherlock sitting atop his packed trunk staring off into space. His eyes were open and glassy. Severus tried to follow his gaze, but found nothing but empty wall. Severus stepped forward and called the boy's name, but it got no reaction out of him. Sherlock wore a blue button up and his strange black muggle cloak like coat atop black slacks and shined shoes. He also seemed to put more energy into taming his hair, as his usually unruly curls seemed to be calmer and styled. He sat ramrod straight, his legs together and feet flat on the floor with his pale palms resting on his knees.

He looks like a doll, and it was kinda creeping Severus out. "Brat!" Severus barked, but again, Sherlock didn't even blink. At this point, Severus began wondering if it was even Sherlock and not some life-sized mannequin the child had made (his ward had done stranger things in the past couple months). So thinking, he stepped even closer and placed a hand on the side of the child's face, lifting up his chin.

"John's contracted Dragon Pox," Severus said calmly, then watched as life flooded Sherlock's eyes and the boy jerked, toppling off the side of his box with a cry of alarm. He pulled himself back up, shouting to be taken to St. Mungos imeadiatey, then he paused, looking hard at Severus and glared.

"That's not nice," Sherlock pouted, looking like he wanted to kick his guardian.

"Rather impressive show of Occlumency," Severus replied calmly. "Who taught you?"

Still glaring at him, Sherlock shrunk his trunk and stowed it in his pocket. "My brother" he said shortly. Severus frowned as he watched the young man leave, wondering when the heck his godson managed to not only master Occlumency but teach it to his 'brother'. "Come on!" Sherlock shouted from down the stairwell, when Severus didn't immediately follow.

"Just like his mother," Severus choked, forcing back a grin.