The morning of January fourth dawned bright and cold, finally back in England after the training, and subsequent skirmish in South Sudan. That day the Hogwarts Express was set to depart from platform nine and three-quarters to Hogwarts. Harry was already up and about, going over any last-minute packing. One final sweep of the room confirmed that Harry wasn't missing anything. His bed was made to military precision that his commanding officers had expected of him. He allowed his mind to drift back to Colonel Wickman - while Harry had only known the man a short while, Wickman's death still felt heavy on his mind, he had struck Harry as a fair minded individual, caring mainly for his men more than rank. He silently cursed the man. training 101 dictated you remove your helmet only when absolutely sure that the location was secured.
Had he followed the simple rule he would've been with his team, celebrating, instead of the focus of a military funeral.
Harry's mech was already secured in a pine box, as was customary for travel when apparition was not desired. Harry cast a featherlight charm on the box and gently guided it out to a waiting Nipsy.
"Nipsy, if you could load this onto the Hogwarts Express for me?" Harry asked as he finished spelling the lid closed. The brisk January air chilled him to the bone, and he tried to burrow further into the coat he was wearing to maintain what little remaining body heat he had.
"Of course Master Harry," she said as she grabbed the box and popped away as if the box, at over twenty-one tons, weighed nothing. Not for the first time, Harry wondered about the strength of house elves, and what could be done with their strength when combined with the versatility of wanded magic
He saw the rest of his family all standing at the main house - Jack was hopping from one foot to another, anxious to be going. Upon seeing Harry Jack grabbed onto James' sleeve, and tried pulling his father towards the fireplace where a large fire lay crackling, ready to floo them to Kings Cross Station.
"Ready to go?" James chuckled, allowing himself to be pulled along by his youngest son.
Jack was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, threatening to drop the container of floo powder.
"Calm down," Lily said, trying her best to calm the hyperactive boy down, andfailing. She confiscated the container and placed it gently on top of the mantlepiece.
"But Muuum…" the boy whined.
"Are we all ready?" Lily asked the family.
Jack eagerly shouted "Yes!" and Rose agreed, but in truth, Harry wasn't ready; he wasn't even sure if going to Hogwarts was the right move. But he had vowed to go there. He had to understand what it was that made Tom Riddle become Lord Voldemort, and everything he had read had pointed to Hogwarts. So he squared his shoulders and nodded resolutely.
Harry travelled up and down the corridors searching for an empty compartment. 'When he finally found one, he levitated his truck into the overhead storage compartment and settled in with a book. The door slid open as he sat down, and Harry whipped out his wand, ready to hex anyone who came through the door, then dropped it as Daphne Greengrass stepped into the compartment.
"Harry," she said by way of greeting, as he holstered his wand and gestured for her to enter, feeling the need to be a good host. "Wonderful to see you again."
Harry hadn't talked to her since the night they had spent together at the Yuletide Ball at the Ossuary.
"Daphne," he replied, "Have a good holiday?"
"Yes, it was fine, a little quiet, but good. My parents, sister, and I went to Majorca last week," she said, sitting on the seat opposite him. Harry had to admit the island weather seemed to agree with her, her skin a little browner with a sun-drenched glow rather than the alabaster that it had been during the ball.
"How about you?"
"I went to the Alps," Harry admitted, not wanting to divulge much else.
The train rocked from side to side in a gentle rhythm as the scenery sped past outside, London suburbs giving way to the countryside.
"Oh, that sounds quite fun! How was it?" she asked.
"Informative." Harry shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position to continue reading. Finally happy, he reopened the page and tried to lose himself in The Adventures of Sam Vimes and the City Watch.
"You're a rousing conversationalist today,'' Daphne said, clearly annoyed. Harry glanced up at her; and saw a spark of anger in her eyes. Sighing, he put his book down and focused his attention on her.
"What is it that you want from me?" Harry asked shortly.
"I want you to have a conversation with me; I want to know how your holiday was; you know, I thought we were friends!" she said, cooly, sounding hurt.
"Fine, I was in the Alps helping the ICW with some stuff, stuff I can't talk about! Okay!?" Harry shot back, reacting without thinking. No one had been this direct with him, since he had arrived here, not even James and Lily, usually they just let sleeping dogs lie
Daphne looked mollified by the answer, and Harry couldn't help but feel the swelling in his chest - Daphne had called him her friend. He had never really had a friend his age before. The one he possibly could have counted ended up dead, victim to Ockern's sadistic regime. In fact his only real friend was Gwinn Safner, the leader of Cygar's armed forces
The train trundled onwards as the scenery changed from towns and villages to the wilds of Scotland. Hours passed as they sat there in companionable silence, each engrossed in their respective books, his a novel, hers a treatise of some short.
Harry couldn't stop staring at Daphne - with her oval-shaped face angled downwards, brow creased in concentration as she read, her overlarge sweater falling off her shoulder…. She looked up and caught him staring, her eyebrow quirked in an unasked question and a coquettish grin on her lips. Going back to the book in question, she unconsciously tucked an errant piece of hair behind her ear as she turned the page, lost once again in the book.
Harry too went back to his book, and laughed at the idea that "in the fragile reality of Discworld, and with the gods who like to play games, a million-to-one chance succeeds nine times out of ten." They stayed like that for a few hours, neither talking nor feeling the need to talk, though Harry occasionally laughed out loud at the antics of Samuel Vimes. Occasionally looking up from his book and watching Daphne deep in concentration.
Just as Harry was reaching for another book someone slammed the door open, a boy with greasy slicked back platinum blonde hair, a shiny badge emblazoned with the letter P adorning the front of his robes flanked on either side by two baboon-like individuals. Looking up, annoyed at being interrupted, Harry stared down at the boy with indifference.
"Yes?" Harry asked in a bored tone, "can we help you?" Cold unfeeling indifference came off him in waves, and the boy took an involuntary step backward, taken aback by the seemingly weaponized indifference. He looked back at his overly muscled baboon compatriots and he tried to swallow inconspicuously. Taking courage he stepped back up to Harry who watched with a hint of interest. Putting his book down, he gave his whole undivided attention to this boy. Finally, Daphne also looked up and stared at the boy.
"What do you want, Draco?" her voice betraying the fact that this was a common occurrence.
"I heard through the grapevine that a man calling himself Harry Potter was aboard this train." the boy said pompously as if he had just dropped an earth-shattering secret.
"Where did you hear that?" Harry asked, yawning.
"I overheard a first-year Gryffindor, telling all his wee little friends about it, he swore that Harry Potter was his brother and that he was coming to Hogwarts with him."
"And you believed him?" Daphne asked, looking like she was trying not to laugh. She shot a meaningful glance at Harry, who smiled gratefully.
"Well he swore it on his magic," Draco said defensively.
"And you know exactly how much that is worth," Daphne said, looking at him unbelievingly. "did you not swear on your magic that when we were first years that you saw Slughorn clipping his toenails?
"Yes," Draco said glumly, knowing where this was going.
"And did you?"
"No."
"And what happened when it turned out you didn't?"
"Absolutely nothing."
"So what can we assume when people swear on their magic?" Daphne asked, sounding like a school teacher lecturing a particularly slow child. "So tell me, which of the following is more likely? Scenario one; A man thought dead for fifteen years suddenly appears out of the blue, and decides to come to Hogwarts, and for what reason exactly? To find out what he missed in his fifteen years away? Or maybe to torment you directly, never mind the fact that he wouldn't know you from the arse end of a donkey. Or scenario two; an eleven-year-old boy wanted to sound cool."
"But then who are you?" he asked, looking at Harry directly.
"I'm Harry Getthen, his cousin. I was staying with the Potters over the Christmas holidays, and my cousin might be trying to dress me up more than the real story." Harry said.
"What are you doing hanging around with him, Daphne?" Draco asked the sneer returning, "Come with me back to the Slytherin compartments," he said as he turned away, assuming Daphne would follow him.
Harry looked at Daphne curiously, wondering what she was going to do. She sent him a quick silent headshake, and he settled in to watch the show. When Draco glanced around, as if to make sure Daphne was following him, his eyes widened almost imperceptibly, when he didn't immediately see Daphne following behind like a good little puppy, and instead saw her sit back down deeply engrossed in her book, Draco called, "Aren't you coming?"
Daphne very deliberately put her book down on her lap before looking up at Draco with a false calmness, "Please, dear sir, enlighten me as to why I should accompany you back to the Slytherin compartments, when in fact I am quite comfortable right here where I already am?"
"Because your friends are there," he said in such a way as to indicate that he was the most important and powerful person in the room and expected to be obeyed.
Harry saw a dangerous glint in her eye. Harry was excited to see what Daphne decided to do with this and decided to play along.
"Tell me, Draco, do you know what my father does?"
"Of course, he buys and sells goods," Draco said flippantly as if the details were unimportant.
"Close, but not quite," she said, her voice dropping dangerously, "he runs the only export-import trading and shipping company in Wizarding Britain. You know that bourbon your father likes so much? Where do you think that comes from?"
"Who cares? People produce it, my father buys it, what else do I need to know?" Draco said dismissively.
"Bourbon comes from America, and the only reason your father can buy it at such a decent price is that my father has decent contacts with our friends across the pond. So maybe it's not such a great idea to insult the heir to one of the greatest American wizarding distilleries?"
Harry affected a large yawn and said "if you leave, Daphne, before the end of our negotiation, I will tell my father, and I'm sure you can kiss that favourable rate goodbye. That won't do well for your father's company, will it?"
Draco Malfoy looked stunned, and the door slid back shut before Daphne put up a locking charm.
"What an arse," she huffed, falling onto her seat with a muffled oof.
"So it looks like I'm a whiskey magnate now, huh?" Harry said with a slight chuckle.
"Shut up, I panicked," she said, blushing.
Growing serious Harry asked "Who was he? I mean I know he's Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, but what's his deal?"
"The Malfoys think they're some hot shit, they're one of the richest families in Britain, real old money."
Harry looked confused, "I've met old money before, but unless old money acts differently in this world, they aren't."
She let out a musical laugh. "You're right, this branch of the Malfoys became the main branch when Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius's father took over. They're just nouveau riche dressed like fake royalty. Now I have a question for you, why did you come to Hogwarts?"
"Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, became who he was at least in part because of this place. I want to know why, and what better way to possibly figure it out than to attend, at least for a while." Harry said, "Know thine enemy, and all that. Wars are won or lost, not on the battlefield, but in intelligence. How can I hope to defeat the Dark Lord if I don't know him, if I don't know the way he thinks, if I can't predict his movement? " sounding like e had given the same speech innumerable times.
Daphne tried and failed to prevent a giggle from escaping her lips, "Maybe your multiton robot?" she asked, a sense of mirth dancing in her eyes, smiling slyly.
Harry couldn't help himself, he let out a low groan. "Because, I'm sure that they're already working on a counter for that, a surprise only works once."
For the first time, Daphne saw his eyes - the eyes of a man who had seen too much for such a tender age, eyes that yearned for something - not peace, never peace, but maybe a moment of reprieve. Getting up to hug him, she stopped herself at the last moment and instead awkwardly patted him on the arm, still halfway out of her chair, bent over like a hunchback
He let out a deep sigh. "Thank you for listening to me ramble," Harry said, dropping his shoulders tiredly - not from a physical tiredness but a bone-deep, almost spiritual weariness. "I know myself too well to know I won't stop, can't stop, but I'm afraid that if I'm not careful I'm going to burn myself out."
"Maybe what you need isn't to stop fighting, but a reason to continue fighting," Daphne said as she slid her way over to sit next to Harry. "It sounds to me like you've been running from one fight to the next, literally from the time you could run, but let me ask you this, Harry Potter, why do you fight?"
Harry thought about it before answering, "If I don't, who will?"
"Do you believe you are the only one capable of fighting?"
"No, but I am the best." It wasn't a boast, it wasn't a question, it was simply a statement of fact.
"But if you burn yourself out, then will you be the best?"
"No," Harry admitted, "But I can't stop."
"I'm not telling you to, I'm telling you to find a different reason to continue."
He sat there quietly contemplating what was just said. Daphne was worried he had just fallen asleep, before he abruptly started talking, eyes still closed and head resting on the back of the seat.
"You might be right, Let me think on this for a while."
She glanced out the window seeing the darkening sky. "We better get changed, we'll be pulling into Hogwarts soon."
She grabbed the bottom of her sweater and pulled it over her head. Harry could not help but notice her thin, toned body, the pale blue bra contrasting with the white alabaster tone of her skin.
"Quit staring and get changed," she said, her voice muffled by her wool knit sweater. Feeling properly chastened he took off his shirt, leaving his undershirt on, and donned the expensive robes. The almost magically cool garment settled over him easily. Then he took his sword out of his trunk and buckled the sword beneath his robe. Daphne looked at him quizzically.
"Why do you need a sword and a wand?" she asked
"Because I'm not good at wand-to-wand combat yet," Harry said as if that explained everything.
"Are you expecting to be attacked? Daphne asked.
"Were you expected to be abducted from the school and held hostage by a crazed madman?" Harry retorted, and any sort of rebuttal died on her lips.
The train shuddered to a stop. One by one the doors opened. Harry and Daphne made their way where a carriage, pulled by a skeletal creature about the size of a horse, with a reptilian hide, white eyes, and leathery black wings. They climbed inside and shut the door as the carriage began moving away from the station.
"Mr Getthen, if you would be so kind as to follow me," Harry heard a rather hard-looking witch with a tight bun and a stern visage call out to him. Following the professor into a small antechamber off the side of the entrance hall, he saw a bit of the sternness fall away.
"Mr Potter, yes, I'm well aware of your true identity, my name is Minerva McGonagall and I am the deputy headmistress of this school, and I wish to discuss with you your plans for the term. Am I right in assuming that you wish to stay with your siblings?"
Harry nodded.
"You'll be attending classes with the sixth-year Gryffindors. I thought you wouldn't particularly want to deal with first years, so Albus and I decided to put you with your cohort, or rather the cohort you probably would have been in if you had not 'disappeared.'" she continued.
"Thank you," he said, silently cursing himself for not thinking through the logistics of this trip. "If you are aware of my true identity am I correct in thinking that you are aware of the other deals I have with Dumbledore?" Harry asked, thinking of his mech which had been packed in a plain
pine box and was supposed to be bought up with the rest of the student's luggage.
"I am, and not to worry we will have it sent to your private rooms," McGonagall said. Harry was surprised, private rooms weren't a discussion point.
She continued, "After our discussion regarding you, we thought it best you had a place where you could simply 'drop the mask' as it were. It was Alastor Moody's idea, he claimed that trying to get you to sleep with others your age would end poorly for everyone involved." she looked unhappy at that pronouncement like she had thought it best for him to stay with others his age. "And now finally, your nomme de guerre."
Harry thought about it for a moment - announcing to the world that Harry Potter had returned from the dead would leave him with having to endure a media firestorm unlike anything he had seen, but it would possibly make his claim to the Wizengamot more believable. On the other side of the coin, choosing a nomme de guerre as something innocuous would allow the house of Getthen to occupy a very interesting spot on the chessboard that was developing.
"My nomme de guerre is going to be Harry Getthen."
"Getthen? That's a rather interesting choice, may I ask?"
"Getthen is going to be a new house here in Britain and one that I suspect will be on the tip of every tongue by the week's end," Harry said, smiling devilishly.
"I simply ask that it does nothing to besmirch the good name of Hogwarts," she said exasperatedly.
"I wouldn't dream of it, professor," Harry said.
McGonagall whipped out a quill and quickly penned a missive. Tapping it with her wand, it folded itself into an origami swan and practically swam out of the room. Harry watched it leave. He looked at McGonagall questioningly.
"Not to worry, it was just merely a message to the headmaster informing him of your decision. Now if you'll please follow me we shall now go to the feast," she said as she led the way out of the antechamber. The press of students that were present minutes before was now nonexistent.
"What did Professor McGonagall want?" Rose asked her brother as she caught up with him, they slowed down, letting the professor walk ahead, so they could continue their conversation undisturbed
"Just letting me know what to expect," Harry said, walking with her towards the Great Hall.
"And?" she asked. "What can you expect?"
"I'm going to be in the sixth year for classes."
"That makes sense, I've seen you practising," she said.
They walked through the open door to the great hall, following the last of the stragglers. Looking up, Harry could see floating candles illuminating the room below, the ceiling charmed to match what Harry could only assume was the weather outside - the moon obscured by deep purple clouds looking as if they were about to storm.
"This way," Rose said, pulling Harry towards the end of the rightmost table. Every student was dressed in a red and gold tie, with a lion over a red background emblazoned over their right breast. Once Harry sat down he watched as his previously black tie took on the same red and gold striped pattern that every other person at the table was wearing - the place where previously sat only a place for a crest instead now showed the lion placed over a red background.
Glancing over at Daphne who he barely saw on the opposite side of the hall, he thought he saw a similar-looking crest and tie, though instead of red and gold like his, it was a green and silver coloration.
"Daphne Greengrass huh?" said a redheaded boy whose food was piled high on his plate, "Can't blame ya there, mate," he said as he swallowed a large bite, "though do be careful, men braver than I tried, and," he swallowed involuntarily, shuddering as he remembered some long forgotten memories.
A girl who looked to be his sister elbowed him hard in the ribs, causing him to exhale sharply.
"Ron, you prat." she said "At least introduce yourself before scaring the poor man." Sticking her hand out, she shook Harry's hand "Ginny Weasley, and this pillock right here," she gave her brother another, much lighter jab with her elbow, "is my brother Ron."
Harry remembered what Mad-Eye Moody said on his first night here, about the Weasley clan. Smiling widely he said "Harry Getthen, at your service." Rose shot him a confused look which Harry returned with a look that said he'd tell her later
"Anyway," Rose said, "Now that you've met my best friend Ginevra Weasley," Ginny shot Rose a murderous glare, at which Rose merely stuck her tongue out at the fiery redhead, "let me introduce you to everyone else."
"That's Colin Creevey, and his brother Dennis," - two small boys who looked like they could be twins waved excitedly, "Morag Mcdougal," a girl on the other side of Ginny perked up upon hearing her name. "Seamus Finnegan. He's a sixth-year student like yourself." - a boy with very light eyebrows, like they had just begun growing back after some manner of accident, nodded his head in acknowledgment - "Next to Ron there is Hermione Granger," a girl who was surrounded by books looked surprised at having her name called. Waving sheepishly she dived back behind her stack of books. Looking around, Rose did a mental headcount, "Those are the most important people, also known as my friends, you'll meet the rest of the Gryffindors later, I'm sure."
"Have an overinflated sense of self-worth there, Potter?" Ginny asked her friend good-naturedly.
"No, I have a perfectly normal sense of self, Weasley, it's not my fault I exude Main Character energy, now is it, my faithful sidekick?" Ginny was just about to retort when Dumbledore stood, and silence fell over the Great Hall.
"I hope you all had a wonderful holiday and didn't allow your skills to deteriorate too much, and now for a couple of start-of-term announcements. First and most importantly Miss Katie Bell has been released from Saint Mungos and healers expect her to make a full recovery." A smattering of applause broke out around that news, mainly focused a little further down the Gryffindor table.
"And finally, with the death of our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Augusta Longbottom, the Ministry has graciously loaned us one of their Aurors, please help me in welcoming our newest Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher Professor John Dawlish." Harry saw Rose stiffen at the name, leaning over close and whispering so only she could hear him, he asked, "What's wrong?"
Leaning in, to talk directly into Harry's ear, Rose whispered back, "Dad says Dawlish is a Ministry lackey, does exactly what Fudge tells him to."
"He's an educator, how bad can he be?" Harry whispered back.
Rose let out a huff of laughter, "Last year we had a Ministry stooge as a Defence teacher, who tried to discredit Cedric Diggory meeting You-Know-Who. No one passed their defence OWL or NEWT, and the Ministry had to shell out thousands for whoever wanted to retake their OWLs or NEWTs after paying for tutors after everyone complained."
"And they decided to try again?" Harry asked incredulously, his mind boggled at the stupidity of the British ministry.
"Who knows maybe Dawlish will be good, but somehow I doubt it," she answered.
Sometime during their whispered conversation, Dumbledore had finished his speech when a large feast suddenly appeared.
Harry grabbed steak and kidney pie as well as a mountain of mashed potatoes and gravy, he dug in enjoying the food as conversation wafted around him. His rumination was ruined as a boy with bright red hair and a very strong resemblance to Arthur Weasley sat down across from him.
"Hey mate, I'm Ron Weasley," he said, reintroducing himself.
"Harry Getthen," Harry said coolly.
Ron eyed Harry critically, before deciding on something.
"Me and some friends meet out by the lake every morning around six to get a workout in, would you like to join us?"
Harry nodded gratefully, he was planning on doing something similar by himself, but a way to suss out new allies was an opportunity that was too good to pass up.
Soon enough the meal was finished as McGonagall walked up to Harry and handed him a parchment.
"This is your schedule for the semester. As was previously mentioned, you'll be with the Gryffindor sixth years, for the core classes of Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Have you given any thought to any electives you would wish to take?"
Harry thought about it for a moment before answering, "I'd like to see your runes class"
"I do believe that can be arranged," she said as she tapped Harry's parchment with her wand slotting Ancient Runes in place.
With that, another day in Harry's life folded up and ended.
A/N Once again Thanks to my Beta ChiaroscuroGirl