Disclaimer: 4th…
Chapter four: Year One
Damien took Harry by the hand and with his trunk and owl cage, and instead of standing in the lounge; they were standing on the sidewalk near the doors of Kings Cross station. Damien started toward the doors and stopped suddenly. "Harry here is your ticket." He said holding it out. "There's a tanker lorry explosion out on the M9."
"Go, Dad. I'm sure I can get on a train." They smiled and hugged and Harry continued through the doors by himself. He looked at his ticket. It said Platform 9 3/4. "Great," he thought, I'm positive Muggles don't number their platforms in fractions." Then he heard a voice that attracted him.
"So many Muggles. We'll get through somehow."
Harry turned quickly and saw a large red-headed family with trunks and a cage with an owl. He smiled. He could find the right way. He approached the Mother and smiled. He took a deep breath.
"Excuse me, Ma'am. My dad was called away on business. Could you please show me how to get to the platform?"
"Of course, young man. Just follow along and do what my boys do. You'll be fine."
He watched four of them go through the barrier and then he followed at a brisk walk like he had observed. Just as he was sure he would hit the barrier, he found himself on the other side with the scarlet train poised to leave. He turned to see the nice lady and spoke.
"Thank you ma'am. I'll write home today and I will be sure to mention to my parents how nice you were."
"That's not necessary, but thank you. It's not every day I meet such a well-mannered boy.
He noticed a girl with red hair hanging back. "Hi, my name's Harry. Are you a first year, too?"
She dropped her eyes. "I'm Ginny. I don't start until next year. My brother Ron's a first year."
"Oh. I'm sorry you can't come too. I'm sure we'll all be great friends. I'm looking forward to making as many friends this year as possible."
"You'd want to be friends with me?"
"Absolutely. Why don't I write you so you will get some idea what you will be facing next year."
"You want to write to me?"
"Of course, I would. I need friends. My mum told me so. She also told me that I would meet someone on the platform that would be important to me. My dad told me to make sure I find people to write to, because my owl needs lots of exercise. You are the perfect person to fill all those requirements. You'll have to promise to write back…"
"Of course I'll write back."
"Then we'll talk tonight or tomorrow by letter. I've got to get on the train."
He gave her a little wave and she waved too and he got on the train. He walked down the car and found a compartment with one of the red-heads in it. He opened the door.
"All right if I sit here?"
"Sure."
The red head opened his mouth and Harry held up a hand.
"Wait a second," he said closing his eyes and putting a hand to his head for effect, "you're Ron and you're a first year."
"How did you know that?"
Harry laughed, "Your sister told me your name and you were the youngest red head I followed through the barrier."
Ron laughed too. "Ron Weasley." He held out his hand. Harry took it and they shook warmly.
"Harry Potter."
Ron's eyes got big with surprise as he noticed Harry's scar.
The door suddenly opened and a bushy head poked in.
"Have you seen a wandering toad?
"No, Hermione. Bring your friend back here when you find his toad."
"All right, Harry. You're finding friends, too?"
"That's what we're here for."
"Yes, I know. See you in a little while." She was off.
"In case you missed it, Ron, that was Hermione Granger. We went to Primary School together. I guess she's as close to a sister as I'll ever have. If you ever need help, just ask. Either of us will be happy to help in any way we can."
It wasn't long before Hermione came back with Neville Longbottom, Mandy Brocklehurst, Susan Bones, and Tracey Davis. If they hadn't all been first years, they wouldn't have all fit in the compartment.
The cart lady came by and Harry bought more than he could possibly eat because he never had a chance to share with friends before.
Everyone talked about their home life. Harry bragged on how smart and supporting Hermione had been for him. Hermione bragged on Harry and how he stood up to bullies and rescued small animals. The seven made plans to study together. Harry and Hermione both let the rest know that their help was available whenever necessary.
The compartment door opened and a white-blond boy with kind of a pinched face stood there with two large bodyguards.
"Somebody said Harry Potter is on this car."
Harry raised his hand. "Guilty as charged." The girls giggled.
"I can see you haven't discovered how to find appropriate company. I can help you."
Harry stood up and faced the door. "First, I don't know you. Second, you don't know me. Third, you don't know anyone in this compartment. Ergo you don't know what you are talking about."
"I," the intruder exclaimed, "am Draco Malfoy."
"And…" Harry answered back, raising both hands questioningly.
Draco's face looked like no one had ever questioned him before. He didn't seem to know what to say or do. One of his friends reached out and took a liquorice wand out of Tracey's hand. Faster than any one expected, Draco and his friends had been pushed out of the compartment and Tracey had the liquorice wand back in her hand.
"That was not informative, anybody know who Draco whoever is?"
Tracey spoke up. "He's Lucius Malfoy's son. Some sort of big wig. He was accused of being a death eater but never was convicted. He's on the board of governors of the school, I think."
Harry sat back down. "You'd think that someone of his apparent arrogance would exhibit better breeding and manners."
"You have much better manners, Harry."
"Thank you, Miss Bones. If you knew my parents, you would know that manners just might be important."
Hermione laughed and said, "Me, too." All the others agreed that their parents made sure they used their manners.
"I was sort of hoping that everyone I met today would be my friend. I guess it was too much to hope for. It's not a great loss as far as I can see."
After a while, Mandy got up to go to the loo. Just after she left, Neville decided he could use a trip to the other loo. A few minutes later, Mandy opened the door. "Somebody's beating up Neville!"
Harry jumped past her into the passageway and ran as fast as he could toward Neville. Just as he got there, he was grateful to Damien for insisting he wear his leather dress shoes because he stomped on the foot of the person holding Neville and threw a shoulder into the one throwing punches. He grabbed Neville and they ran down the passageway and into the compartment.
A red-faced Neville panted out a "Thanks, Harry."
Harry followed with "No worries, mate."
"How did you do that, Harry?"
"I learned a long time ago that the best offense against a much larger opponent is to strike fast and hard and then run like the wind. Those guys looked like either third or fourth years and you would expect them to leave us firsties alone, but if we stick together, they will have to."
Soon they all got into their school robes and the train stopped at Hogwarts station. They rode across the lake in the boats with appropriate oohs and aahs at the sight of the magnificent castle with its lights shining like a fairy tale in the dusk. They stood in a group and were ushered into the main hall for the sorting. Susan Bones went to Hufflepuff. Mandy Brocklehurst went to Ravenclaw. Tracey Davis went to Slytherin. Hermione went to Gryffindor. Neville became a Gryffindor, too. The Harry hopped up on the stool and Professor McGonagall put the hat on his head.
"Harry Potter. I knew your parents. I know who your adoptive parents are. I can see that you have ambition, loyalty, intelligence, but you are Iris's little soldier, aren't you. I can't help it; I have to put you in….
"GRYFFINDOR"
Ron Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor. Dinner was almost as good as Iris made but with many more choices. After dinner, they were all herded up to Gryffindor tower. Harry wrote letters to Damien and Ginny. He specifically asked Damien to be sure to read the letter to Iris. In both letters he wrote about the new friends he had made.
Morning came and breakfast and Professor McGonagall handed out schedules.
"Double potions with Slytherins this morning. Oh, good. Something to look forward to."
"Are you daft, Harry? I can't think of anything worse."
"Ah, but you haven't been properly warned and schooled. Watch, Ron and learn."
They were early and waited outside the door for Professor Snape to arrive. He came sweeping up and threw open the door and Harry was in the scrum to get in the door. He and Hermione settled at the front desk on the left and Harry immediately got out parchment and ink and quill and labeled the top of his page "Potions Year One Lesson One". Professor Snape started to speak and Harry started to write. Suddenly the professor stopped.
"Potter, what are you writing?"
"I'm taking notes, professor"
"Read me the last sentence you wrote, then."
"I can teach you to brew fame, bottle glory, and even put a stopper in death."
"Very good. At least someone is paying attention. What would I get if I added asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood."
"The first step in making the Draught of the Living Death, sir."
"And where would I look for a bezoar?"
"You would look in stomach of a goat or similar ruminant animal, sir."
"And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"There is no difference, sir, it is also known as aconite."
"It is gratifying to find at least one student who has the acuity to actually study a bit of potions making. Why aren't the rest of you writing this down? You will find the potion for the day on the board. It is a simple infusion to cure boils. Follow instructions carefully. Begin….."
Harry went through the preparation and had his cauldron bubbling along. He almost forgot to take it off the fire before adding the porcupine quills, but he was re-reading the instructions and caught himself before he could create a catastrophe. Neville didn't pay that close attention, and his potion blew up spectacularly. Harry made sure to bottle five vials of his potion and stored four in his bag and carried the other up front to turn in for grading.
As Harry was leaving class, he turned to the professor. "My adopted father sends his best, professor."
"What is his name, Potter?"
"Damien de la Morte, Professor."
The look on the professor's face was perplexed. The name was not immediately familiar.
Over the next week, Harry handed out vials of his boil cure to friends in all the other houses. Boils seemed to be a favorite prank of the whole school. He was faithful in his letter writing. He had something new to say every day. He tried to be newsy to his parents and amusing to Ginny. It wasn't hard to find some amusing thing to send to her with Fred and George trying to prank nearly everyone and all the other houses seeming to find trouble to get into.
Harry rescued Neville's remembrall from Malfoy and won his place on the Gryffindor quidditch team as seeker. Damien sent a Nimbus 2000 broom as soon as he found out.
Thanksgiving came and Ron and Harry knocked out the troll in the girls' bathroom and Hermione kept them out of trouble.
Harry and his friends (the list was getting rather long by now) caught at least a bully every week until the first week in December. They seemed to have run out of them or maybe they were out of people to pick on. Bullies seemed to give up after being swarmed by three to twelve first years.
Harry always told Ginny about the bullies and how an unnamed group of firsties would swarm around and kick and punch and stomp their feet and pull the victim out of the way. He also told her about all the victims who had become part of the rescue squad. He managed to leave out his leadership of the group, but Ginny wasn't fooled at all. She never said anything in her answers to accuse him of his involvement, but she always praised the tactics of the firsties. She made him smile.
Harry caught the snitch in his first Quidditch game in spite of having to climb back on the broomstick when Hermione set Professor Snape on fire.
The next week, they all went home for Christmas promising to visit each other over the Holiday.
After supper the first day of vacation, Harry sat down in the lunge with his dad. "Dad, I think I have a problem with Professor Quirrell."
"What sort of problem do you have, Harry?"
"I always seem to have a headache when I'm in his class. It can't be the garlic because Iris's curry has almost as much and it is wonderful. The headache spikes when the professor turns his back on me. I just can't figure out what's up with that."
"Does he always wear a hat?"
"Yeah, this ugly purple turban thing that wraps around his whole head and goes all the way to his shoulders in back. Everybody thinks he has garlic wrapped in it too, but it just seems to smell bad."
"Hmm… he might be hiding something, sinister, even."
"You'd know sinister, all right," Harry said, laughing.
"Absolutely, right in one, you are very astute, Harry," Damien said, smiling hugely. "I'll let you know what I can find out."
….
"Thanks Dad. I do have one more concern. There's a three headed dog the size of a small mountain sitting on top of a trap door that hides some kind of set of traps to protect the philosopher's stone. We have done our homework on this project."
"I will have to speak to Dumbledore. If my suspicions are correct, the adults involved in this will have to take some action. I'll take care of everything, my son. It's Christmas now. You are required to enjoy yourself."
"Yes sir," Harry said smiling hugely.
Harry spent two days at the Burrow, Flooing home each night. The second day he had a talk with Mrs. Weasley. He was sitting between Ginny and her mother at dinner.
"Dinner is truly wonderful, Mrs. Weasley. I would really like to get a copy of the recipe for your treacle tart. My mother's is quite good, but yours is even better. My mother is always looking for better recipes."
"How nice of you to say, Harry, Your mother could come over and we could cook together."
"That wouldn't work too well, Mrs. Weasley, she never gets farther from home than her own garden. I'm sure she would love to have you come over, though."
"She doesn't go shopping or anything?"
"Either dad or I do her shopping. She's blind, you see."
Molly's face fell. "Oh," she said, "I didn't know."
"Maybe you could come over and bring Ron and Ginny."
"I will. It will be good to meet your parents. I believe Ginny has been writing to you this year."
"Yes Ma'am, she has. You can't have too many friends. That's what my Mum told me."
"Ginny has enjoyed hearing from you, I'm glad she will have good friends at school this fall."
"I'm glad, too. I'm just sad that I won't have anybody to write next year. With all our friends, I probably won't have time hardly to write my parents even. So can you all come over tomorrow?"
"We'll be there, Harry, about ten."
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."
Even though the next day was Christmas Eve, the Weasleys arrived right on time. Harry led them through the hallway from the lounge where the fireplace was into the kitchen where Iris was sitting at the table.
"This must be Mrs. Weasley and Ron and Ginny."
Mrs. Weasley hesitated and looked at Harry with a question in her eyes.
"Don't hesitate, Mrs. Weasley. I know Harry told you I am blind. I heard Harry's steps. With Harry were three other people. One's steps indicated that she was an adult. One set of steps was very much like Harry's except he is definitely taller and has longer strides. The third was a young lady smaller than Harry. Her steps give her away. I'm pleased to meet you Mrs. Weasley," Iris held out her hand to the Red Headed lady.
"Please call me Molly."
"Only if you call me Iris."
They shook hands and sat companionably at the table.
"You three," Iris ordered, "Go outside and play something. Don't come back until you're wet and cold."
Harry sprang for the door with Ron and Ginny right behind. Iris leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and folded her hands.
"So, Molly, tell me about your children."
Molly smiled and seemed pleased to go on about her favorite subject. When Molly finally ran down to Ginny and seemed to pause, Iris spoke. "I can see that you feel about yours the same way we feel about Harry. Ever since we rescued him from his abusive relations, he has been our little soldier. Damien and I couldn't be prouder of him if he were our own blood child."
"Why do you call him your little soldier?"
"Harry hasn't told you I'm a seer then."
Molly shook her head. "Harry does say how happy he is at home, but he never gives us any details about his home life."
"I'll introduce you to Damien when he gets home about tea time. You'll understand then why Harry might be a little vague about his home life. You were going to show me our recipe for treacle tart."
They spent the next hour making pudding for that day's dinner.
About tea time, the children came back in and after a series of drying and warming charms settled into the lounge with Ron and Harry playing chess and Ginny commenting on their style of play.
"Iris, I'm home!" Darien boomed from the front door.
"In the kitchen, sweetie, we have company."
Darien moved into the kitchen without a sound. Molly looked up and a look of shock and surprise washed over her face.
"You're……You're…….Death."
"I'm so very glad to meet you, Mrs. Weasley. Harry has had so many nice things to say about you and your family," Darien said pleasantly and held his hand out. She automatically held out her hand. He took it gently and pressed his lips quickly to her knuckles and just as quickly released her hand. Molly smiled and dropped her eyes to the table.
"I see where Harry gets his manners."
"We do try, Molly, we really do."
They called the children and sat down to a tea with scones and clotted cream. Molly admitted that her scones were not quite the same and asked for Iris' recipe. After tea, the Weasleys Flooed home with promises for other visits over the holiday. Late that night, Molly realized that Iris hadn't really answered her question about Iris' little soldier.
Harry was up early Christmas morning. The three of them, Iris, Harry, and Damien ate a leisurely breakfast and moved into the Lounge for presents. The presents were abundant and the chorus of thank you went around their little circle many times. There were toys and clothes and trinkets. The last box was wrapped in black shiny cloth and black shiny ribbon. Darien handed it thoughtfully to Harry.
"This is a serious present," Harry said flatly. Damien nodded. Iris looked sad. Harry carefully untied the ribbon and laid it aside. He unwrapped the black cloth and folded it with the ribbon. It was the only present he hadn't just ripped into. He opened the ebony box and found nested each in its own fitted space, a military survival knife, a pair of fighting daggers, and a set of five throwing knives.
"Can you teach me to use them properly?"
"I have never had a use for weapons, considering who I am. I did make them for you and I know an instructor who will teach you to use them to full advantage. He'll be here tomorrow."
"Thank you, sir. I will work hard and make you proud. I know these are not toys. They are for protection in deadly situations and are only to be used in the event of a threat to life and limb."
"Well said, Harry. It pleases us that you understand so well a present made to save lives. Remember that they are sharp enough to cut shadows, divide light rays, and cut stone or metal like butter. The throwing knives will always fly true. Magnus will teach you all you need to know; he will be here tomorrow early. Be ready."
"Yes, sir."
Iris held out her arms and Harry went to her and sat on her lap and let her hold him and whisper the things mums tell their little boys. In a little while, he got up and started gathering up his presents to take to his room. Darien heard her whisper as Harry left the room, "My big soldier." A single crystal tear rolled slowly down her cheek. Darien rose and went to his wife. He put one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders, picked her up gently and settled down in the big chair with Iris on his lap. "I love you," he said. She snuggled into his shoulder.
Harry dressed in his warmest coat and went outside to play. He ran and he jumped and he yelled and he climbed all the trees even though they had icy branches. He threw snowballs until he could hit a pigeon on the fly. It startled the pigeon, too. He stayed out until the sun started to go down and then he ran inside to dinner. He told Iris everything he had done.
"Did you hurt the pigeon, Harry?"
"The snowball was really soft. It startled the poor bird, but it flew off after it fell into the snow. I really wasn't trying to hurt it. I was just practicing my throwing."
"I'll get you some moving targets to throw at. You don't want to hurt small animals."
"I know. I'd have felt really bad if the pigeon hadn't been able to fly away.
I should have better targets tomorrow."
"Yes, you should."
Harry read until bedtime and Iris tucked him in and kissed him goodnight,
The next morning Harry was up with the sun and came downstairs with the box his knives were in. Magnus was sitting with Iris sipping on a cup of tea. He was a pleasant man with a large smile. Somehow his eyes were colder than his smile. He didn't talk much. After they went down to the training room in the basement, He showed Harry how to use his knives but only with his own set. He made sure that Harry knew that no one was to touch his knives. Before he left, Harry could use each knife for its best use. He could hit moving and stationary targets with the throwing knives; he knew the best targets for his survival knife and the best way to use his fighting daggers. Magnus left him with a reactive golem to fight with every day for practice. Just before he left he opened a case. He brought out two articles of clothing. He insisted that Harry put them on. One was a dragon hide vest to wear under his shirt and the other was a dragon hide waistcoat to wear over his shirt. The waistcoat had built-in sheaths for all his knives. They were very nearly invisible when they were inserted in their sheaths in the garment. The daggers were in the back reachable with either hand, the survival knife was on the left shoulder out of the way, and the throwing knives were arrayed down the front to be reachable with his better throwing hand. With his school robes on, they wouldn't be noticed at all.
Harry didn't play outside the rest of his vacation. If Iris needed him she had to call to the training room. He had used magic, but only to repair the golem. Darien gave him permission. As it was, the golem looked like it had been through a war and not repaired very well. One could only repair damage so many times before the repairs started to show.
On the day they got back to school, Harry got a note to meet with the headmaster after lunch. When he got to Dumbledore's office, Damien was there with Professor McGonagall and Professor Quirrell. Professor Dumbledore offered everyone tea (no one needed any), lemon drops (no one wanted any), and then asked Damien why he had called this meeting.
"I would like Professor Quirrell to remove his turban."
"I will not."
"Not stuttering, I see. Harry, you have been practicing, the turban only, please."
With a flick of Harry's wrist, the turban was pinned to the wall just under the crown molding with one of his throwing knives.
A voice from the back of Quirrell's head hissed "Kill the boy."
In less time than it takes to say, Quirrell grabbed Harry around the throat, Quirrell's hands began to smoke, he began to scream and collapsed with a black dagger sticking out of his chest. The shade of Voldemort vanished through the outer wall of the castle. Harry stepped forward, reclaimed his dagger, cleaned it on Quirrell's robe, and put it back where it belonged. Damien retrieved his throwing knife and returned it to him with no comment. It disappeared under his robes. Damien dropped the turban cloth on the body.
"I'll leave it to you to arrange this with the ministry, Headmaster. Harry you're with me." Damien turned to the exit with a swirl of his robes and Harry followed.
"Wow," Harry thought, "Dad makes Snape look like a rank amateur with the robe swirling thing. I'm going to have to ask him how he does that."
Damien turned into the first unused classroom and turned to Harry. He knelt quickly and hugged him tight. Harry hugged him back. Like most fathers, Damien had not hugged Harry often, but Harry always loved it when he did. "I did not mean for you to have to kill a man today, Harry."
"Since he had me around the neck, it seemed like the right thing to do, Dad."
"It was. You did well." Damien stood slowly and seemed to swell and grow like a giant shadow. "I who am the final arbiter of death award you the white stone for the ending of an evil on the world by your hand and a blade of my own make. Be righteous in your judgments, Soldier." He shrank again to be just Damien and put a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Yes, sir. I promise to always be worthy of your praise." He looked up and smiled. His dad smiled back and they left the classroom and walked comfortably together back to the portrait of the fat lady.
They shook hands as Damien admonished him. "Now study hard and have a little fun. I will let Dumbledore know that there is no safe place for the Philosophers Stone. I imagine they will destroy it. Remember that Iris and I love you."
"Thank you, dad, I will do my very best." With a smile and a wave, Harry went in and Damien went about his own business.
Later that evening, Harry took Ron and Hermione aside and told them the whole story. Ron was not to be deterred until Harry pulled the survival knife half out of its sheath and was rewarded with a "Wicked!" The two friends hugged Harry and they all swore to guard each other from that point on.
As Harry got ready for bed, he wrote a letter to Iris. He knew that Damien would read it to her. He explained the situation to her from his perspective with the things he remembered Damien telling him. Then he wrote a letter to Ginny with all the details he could think of. He was more than a little concerned. He hoped that Ginny would still be his friend. He managed to get them both sent off before curfew.
Harry seemed depressed the next morning at breakfast. The rumor mill had ground fast and Quirrell was seen as evil and Harry was the injured party. This was especially true (to other students, anyway) when it was rumored that Death himself was present at the professor's demise.
The next morning at breakfast, when Hedwig landed so professionally right between Harry's plate and a jug of pumpkin juice, Harry petted her, told her how smart and swift she was, and fed her all the meat left on his plate. Only then did he untie the letter from her leg. Taking a deep breath, he opened it and started to read. When he finished, he folded the letter and put it in his pocket with a big smile on his face. Judging from the exclamation marks and the grin on his face, she was angrier at him for thinking that she might turn away from him than what he did to Quirrell.
An instructor from the Auror Academy took over Defense against the dark arts and the classes proceeded apace. All the friends worked hard in all their classes, Harry hardest of all. When he was asked, he just said that he had promised his dad.
The end of term passed so fast it seemed like it was suddenly time to be sitting on the train. Harry's friends took up at least two whole train cars on the Express and everybody had to come by his compartment to wish him a good summer. He arranged to visit at the Burrow. Hermione did, too.
They arrived at King's Cross. Darien was there waiting and took Harry straight home.