TRIGGER WARNING: BULLYING; BAD PARENTS; ABUSE; VIOLENCE (BLOOD AND OBSCURE SPELLS)
Chapter Ⅲ
The Makings of a Powerhouse
The House of Slytherin was different from the other two houses in many ways. The main being the fact that there was a certain system to how the Slytherins worked. A Hierarchy.
That meant that there was a system based on how powerful you were; your familial status, personal influence, magical core, and intellectual level.
At the top of the ladder was Draco Malfoy, though many would think it would be Harry Potter with his status as Boy-Who-Lived, and it would be if it weren't for the fact that the Slytherin House were a pack of wild dogs.
They were savages, tearing at the weak links of the House, determined to show that they did not deserve to be in the House of Snakes.
'A Weasley' they'd whisper not-so-softly. 'Hat has gone senile if it thinks a lion should be here.'
On his first morning, Ron found his clothing mostly unharmed with only a few ink smears, (his mother's charms to the twin's pranks keeping them mostly safe), his telescope shattered, potion's kit missing multiple ingredients, ink bottled laying underneath the words 'Dirty Blood-Traitor' in uneven writing.
'A mudblood' they'd point at her, 'not worthy of being here.'
Hermione woke covered in mud, her clothes strewn around and smeared with dirt, her books torn, quills broken, and ink bottles emptied with the ink smudged on her trunk with the word 'Filthy Mudblood' written in thick bold letters.
'The-Boy-Who-Lived,' they'd sneer, 'a Golden Boy trying to tame the darkness.'
Harry found his trunk flipped open, his clothes in tatters (not that he really mourned them), books with missing pages, cauldron with a melted bottom, ink bottles opened, and the words 'Stupid Gryffindor Boy' written in slopy lettering on his dresser.
The Slytherins were feral things under cool stone masks, delighting in the prospect of ruining enemies of theirs with sharp words, swift spells, and devious plans.
It took a week.
That was how long it took for the Slytherin House to realize that the Golden Trio could take whispers and destruction. it didn't bother them really.
So, they took out their wands and they attacked.
(-)
Breakfast was a quick but loud, Harry hearing all the whispers about the Boy-Who-Lived in Slytherin. He clenched his hands around his utensils, but easily mimicked what the other purebloods were doing; tiny bites, dainty bites of food, and you do not bring yourself to your food.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione eating reasonably neatly, trying to teach Ron some semblance of table manners. He was trying, Harry could see that, and touched Hermione's arm when he thought she was being rude or harsh. Obviously, she got the message because her words softened, and her voice was less harsh.
Transfiguration was their first class and they left breakfast early to get there early, hoping to avoid their housemates and their dark looks. Harry ignored the cat with strangely intelligent eyes and sat in the second row next to the wall, farthest from the door. Hermione sat in front of him, Ron sitting next to him. They chatted softly for the next few minutes, keeping their voices low even though there was nobody around to listen.
The Slytherin's entered a few minutes after their ending conversation, creating a subtle divide amongst them with hidden disdain in their eyes. Harry sought out Ron's hand, a soft squeeze from the red head soothing him slightly.
The Gryffindor's came in with loud chattering, sitting away from the Slytherin's with nasty looks aimed toward the Slytherin side of the room.
Loud rustling filled the room as books and papers were taken out, and Harry only looked up when he saw the cat move, blurring before a woman stood sternly in front of them. Introductions were promptly given and then she began the lesson easily.
She began a quick discussion of the theory behind transfiguration, before giving them matches and instructing them to turn them into needles.
Different annunciations and accents produced many forms of the incantation, giving varied results around the classroom. Shouts of triumph came from those who managed to change their match even just a touch, amusing the Professor endlessly who never tired from seeing the excitement of the first years learning magic.
She stopped on the Slytherin side of the classroom, giving soft pointers on how to change their grips of their wands for better movement and a much better outcome of results.
And stopped to stare at a green-eyed replica of James Potter who was glaring at his match with pure frustration. The Professor sighed inwardly; he did not inherent his father's gift for Transfguration. McGonagall stepped forward to help, only to stop when he gave a sharp jab of his wand, saying no incantation at all, and then proudly held up a perfect needle with a triumphant shout.
But she made no move toward him, staring at the desk that... 'Bloody Fucking Hell'
...the desk that had turned into thousands of little needles, not that the boy noticed, far to enraptured by his one needle.
Maybe the boy did inherent his father's skill.
(-)
Ever since she was little, Hermione prided herself on her smarts and her ability to remember details. She'd tried to make friends multiple times only to be left after a few days, annoying them with her constant need to read and learn. Quite miffed at their blatant dismissal, she'd holed herself up, delving into the fantasy that was painted with words, filing away knowledge that was boring to others.
Her father chuckled every time she asked if they could go to the bookstore when they went out, always telling her she had to limit herself to 10 books. Then she'd catalog all the book she'd chosen, trying to figure out which was better to take at that moment. It was always a chore, but she thought it was worth it once she'd gone to her bed and opened her books.
Whenever her mother visited, little treats were taken into the library and books piled onto the table. Then her mother would read to her books of old knowledge, teaching her the value of family history. And with sparkling brown eyes, she'd hold an old family record and tell her to recite the traditions and sayings. Smiling softly, making sure her mother could see her exaggerated preparations (she was sure she could recite them in her sleep, but she always looked down at the book) and dutifully began reading the old Russian writing.
She was used to people looking down at her sometimes, if only for her knowledge, or her bushy hair and buckteeth.
Hermione had seen the looks she'd gotten from the purebloods of Diagon Alley. The looks that clearly said she was the non-existent dirt under their 400 galleon shoes, not worthy to even breathe the same air they do. At the time, she hadn't really known what they were for, her looks she'd thought originally, but she learned very quickly the true reason after being sorted into the Slytherin House.
Apparently, the word for muggleborns, in the pureblood dictionary is Mudblood, with the following definition of: an unworthy wixen child born into the care of filthy muggles; a magic-user who has disgraced and foul blood. (Well perhaps not, probably something a little ruder.)
She'd spent the night of her sorting preparing herself for the bullying, but she really hadn't expected the damaging of her property. Thankfully, Ron and Harry both had tricks that helped tremendously, and she knew she'd have to find time to go to the library to find books that would help defend herself and protect her property.
Until that time, she'd been making a list of all the times people had called her a mudblood and who they were. Professor Snape seemed to be observing her every time she was within the range of the disgusting word, but she'd simply added another name and tally onto her list.
As she was reading her books on Charms, she sent hexes from underneath her book, smiling softly as she heard a yelp or a screech when her target got hit.
As the days went by, Hermione continued, occasionally going to the library to study and read.
After about a week, she'd found a small list in spidery scrawl in her bag. It was a list of books.
Hermione decided she'd get to library within the next 24 hours.
The very next day, Hermione was cornered in an empty hall, on her way back from the library. She had been searching for the defense books on the little list but had been kicked out by Madame Pince for hexing a student for calling her that filthy name. She wondered just how much people hated her green and silver tie, for them to be that prejudice.
Two older Slytherins, both females, smiled at her sweetly before shooting spells at her. She threw herself to the ground and fumbled for her wand. Hermion scrambled up as Slytherin Female #1 shot a white light at her, hitting her in the leg which made her Hermione yelp in pain when she felt a sharp, expanding pain and her leg began swelling, big angry red splotches forming all over her leg.
She shoved herself to the wall to avoid another jet of light and thrust out her wand, "Lumos Maxima!" the tip of her wand glowed with a blinding light and the two girls shrieked, throwing their hands up to avoid the light. Hermione quickly shoved her way through them, sending a sponge-knee curse and a jelly-fingers curse, one for each girl. Leaving them on the ground, and ran out of the hall, half-dragging her leg behind her as it pained her to put too much weight on it.
Hermione entered a classroom and cast every reverse spell she knew but none of them seemed to work. Groaning, she slumped into a chair and poked her leg gently, hoping that the swelling would go down.
Opening her bag, she pulled out the one book she'd managed from the library, 'Hexes, Jinxes, and Curses: Volume Ⅰ - Ⅲ.' She opened the book and began reading, hoping that the swelling would go down soon; curfew was in less than an hour and she didn't want to have a run-in with Filch or any teachers.
Two days after her cornering by the two female Slytherins, she was challenged by 3 fourth years. Well, challenged is inaccurate. It was more like them trying to curse her while she attempted to dodge and defend herself.
She ended up with a thin cut on her side, her left shin shattered, and some of her hair was uneven from cutting curses, but otherwise fine and unharmed. Hermione ended up attacking blindly but her aim wasn't all that bad because they'd ended up with shaved hair, insect parts, grotesquely long toenails, and bats spurting from their noses. Maybe it was because that was all the things she could remember while panicking.
Hermione considered it a win, as she was healed and looked over by Professor Snape. Who gave detention to the fourth years, for drawing blood which was against the rules for dueling apparently? And he didn't give them their hair back, stating they'd have to go to Madame Pomfrey in the morning. (She knew well that there was a charm to regrow their hair)
There wasn't really anything on his face that gave up what he was thinking. But right at the end, Hermione swore his lips twitched upwards as he spoke; he merely stated that she should make it a point to put a little more power in her spells.
Once more, she'd found another slip of paper in her bag, written in the same spidery scrawl. Professor Snape's writing.
Without much consultation, she went to the library, skirting around the crowded hallways and taking the back way that was shown to all first year Slytherins.
Entering the library with a renewed excitement, she ignored the glare she was given by Madame Pince and began pulling books from the shelves, all the ones that had been written on the paper.
A Beginner's Guide to Defensive Spells
Smart Aleck Uses for Simple Tricks
Defense and Offense: Spell You Should Know
The Greyer Side of the Light Spectrum
Simple Spell Combinations
As it turned out, the books were probably the best she'd ever read, far more informative than the classes and had a very in-depth construction on how the spells could be used and how they affected the victim. Hermione settled at a table and tore through the first book, trying to decide which spells she would learn first, the ones she would show to Ron and Harry immediately.
She scribbled away with her quill, quietly wishing that they weren't so difficult to write with but continued nonetheless.
Going back to the book shelves, she stalked through, going to the back of the library where the Restricted Section was. Hermione stared at the iron gate, wondering what knowledge was deemed so terrible as to be withheld from her. Lightly, she brushed the lock, staring at the mocking gold lock.
Hermione quickly made it her goal to get in there and read every book there was to offer.
So she turned and continued her search through the bookshelves, stopping soon at a large black tome. Quickly looing around and seeing nobody, she pulled it off the shelves and peeked at the gold lettering.
'Dark Magicks: Rites and Rituals'
Curiosity sufficiently piqued, she opened it only to be faced with gruesome pictures and horrific sights of blood. It was terrible. Still though, she read a few pages in, before closing it, not at all able to stomach the descriptions of the spells.
She put it back on the shelf, gazing at it before turning away.
Madame Pince gave her a look as she checked out her books, giving her a clear warning not to do anything terrible with them. Hermione promised not to attack or provoke any with them. But she would defend herself if necessary.
So, Hermione made her way to the dungeons with new books to read.
'You will not cry. You will not cry. You will not cry.'
Hermione scrambled to pick up her book, all while trying to pull to seams of her clothes together, the same seams that were unraveling at a furious pace.
Humiliation boiled deep within her, stewing with the anger that had been simmering inside of her. The hyenas and jackals of the Slytherin Common Room cackled and barked at her predicament. Freckled pale hands scooped up her books while another set of hands easily helped her up, swiftly guiding her to the female dorm rooms.
The steps didn't change, as though Hogwarts knew that they were helping her. Harry shot a few different spells from his wand, she didn't catch the incantations, but she did hear the mortified shrieks and pained screams.
Ron dropped her books onto her bed and Harry gave her a change of clothing. She turned away, allowing herself to let go of the broke seams of her clothes. A quick look behind her had her seeing both boys with their backs turned, staring at the wall. Hermione went behind Greengrass' bed, and drew the curtains, changing quickly before coming out.
She took two books from her bed and snagged the ends of both boys' collars.
"Come on. I want to show you some spells."
Ron and Harry grinned at her.
(-)
Ron walked through an empty corridor, one of the few times he was without his friends. He brushed his fingers over his satchel, an old thing that Bill had given him once he'd gotten his own. It had 4 different books in them, all having to do with Defense.
Harry had brought up how Quirrell, the stuttering squirrel, couldn't be understood and suggested they just do self-study. Plus, it would help with all the nasty looks Harry and him got should some of them progress to actual spells; Hermione had already been hexed multiple times by some of the other snakes of the Common Room.
He picked up 3 tomes that worked into defensive spells and proper pronunciation, as well as a book that listed slightly darker spells. Ron reasoned that as long as he did it with the intent of self-defense only, he wasn't really in trouble.
Walking into another corridor, he froze when he saw 2 redheads bent over a piece of parchment. He turned around quickly, hoping he would be out of their sight by the time they looked up.
It didn't happen.
"Ron?"
He turned slowly, trying to figure out if they were angry or not. Twin brown eyes stared at him, and he fidgeted with the end of his tie, until he saw their eyes flicker to his fingers.
The silence was awkward until one of the twins spoke. "How're the snakes treating you?"
"Fine." They didn't look like they believed him. "I mean, they seem hellbent on destroying my things but nothing I can't fix. Hermione is wicked good at repair charms and Harry knows how to clean really well... It's not that bad, honest..." He trailed off when he saw the anger brewing on their faces...
Ron looked down, trying to figure out if they were angry because he hadn't hexed them or what. They couldn't really be angry that they had tried to destroy his stuff... they kinda did the same thing often. Maybe it was because he had stated that he made the 'Great Harry Potter' clean his stuff? He shuffled back slightly, hoping that whatever they did didn't involve spiders. He would definitely not be able to handle that.
The words spoken next surprised him. "Do you need any pranking supplies?"
"We have things that can charm their hair-"
"-their looks-"
"-make them embarrass-"
"-themselves to no-"
"-end." The twins grinned, their eyes gleaming.
"Er- sure. I'll take a few of the products..." He unhooked his satchel, allowing them to stuff somethings in it.
About 5 minutes later his satchel was filled to the brim and his hair was ruffled by his brother. "Good luck with the snakes little bro."
"And remember-"
"-the twins of Weasley-"
"-will always-"
"-be here for-"
"-help!-"
The two grinned before going off, leaving Ron in the middle of the corridor. He closed his satchel, patting the awkward lumps as thought it would keep them from appearing.
(The twins watched their brother when they were sure he'd turned around. They'd needed testers for their pranks and what a better volunteer than a few nasty snakes? Not that they thought their brother was all that nasty, but there was something off about him being in Slytherin.)
Herbology wasn't Ron's favorite class, not by a long shot, but it turned out that Harry was rather good at it. Professor Sprout, a short, plump woman with a cheery personality, had given them non-magical plants to start off with. Lavender, Mint, Basil, Wood root, Thyme, Rosemary, and Oleander.
Harry quickly took charge, showing Ron how to prepare the soil, plant the seeds at a certain depth, mutter only encouraging and positive things because Harry seemed absolutely certain that plants had feelings. Not that Ron dared say anything different when Harry drew himself up his entire small stature and looked at him with defiance shining boldly in his green eyes.
So, he did as directed, following Harry's instruction and by the end of the class Professor Sprout was beaming at them, giving Slytherin 15 points for 'proper work and gentle handlings'. Which was more than some of the others could say when the Professor came around to them, tittering about how they should have worked the soil gently as she had shown in the previous class and been careful with the placements of the seeds and sprouts.
Draco Malfoy, the blonde prat of the House, was lamenting over the fact that his nails were dirty, and how this was work for peasants, giving Ron a headache and the urge to make him sprout duck sounds instead of words. But Hermione gave him a look before he could do anything.
They made their way to History of Magic, with Professor Binns, which was boring as ever but Ron eventually just put his head down and tried to sleep. The only one who even seemed to be paying attention was Hermione, who was studiously scribbling away with a quill, the sound grating on Ron's nerves for some reason (it sounded like all the times Percy would write frantically during dinner because he was making notes in his books)
Eventually, Harry would give him a light push or poke him with a nub, telling him class was over.
Sometime during dinner, Ron realized Percy hadn't done anything to him, said anything to him, didn't even look at him... As though he didn't exist. His chest felt full and heavy suddenly, his eyes stinging with hot tears.
For a split second, Ron wanted to race to the Gryffindor Table and do anything, hejustwantedtoPercytoacknowledgethathewasalive-! Call his name, yank on his shirt, anything but he didn't; he stayed put and drew his eyes away from his stiff, bookworm-ish brother.
With wobbly hands he finished his dinner ('small portions and bites Ron; you're holding the fork wrong.'), continuously blinking back tears.
Dessert was a small slice of cake, his appetite lost to his wandering thoughts about his older brother. The concerned looks he got from Harry and Hermione were brushed off with simple statements that some of the fumes from the other greenhouses messed with his appetite. It gained him slightly suspicious looks but that was alright.
After, he slipped away, saying he was going to the loo. Ron walked into the corridor, allowing the tears from dinner to slip down his face freely. The salty liquid burned his lips, but he licked them anyway, hoping to burn Percy's name from the tip of his tongue.
"Oh look, it's the blood-traitor." Ron looked up, spinning around, grappling for his wand. They laughed. "Is the baby crying? Missing mummy and her rags?" It was 2 older Slytherins, maybe 6th years. 'fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck' He dodged a sickly colored spell only to cry out when a spell hit his right arm, causing a massive pain to explode in it. Letting it fall limply, he shot a knockback jinx, and another curse that Hermione had taught him, a slug sprouting hex.
Slytherin #2 snarled at him when his crone started spouting slugs from his mouth. A rapid succession of spells came at him, and he dropped to the ground, using all his twin prank avoidance skills to dodge the spells.
He moved to shoot another spell only to be hit by another one. He clapped his free hand over his mouth, feeling his tongue wiggle and shrink. Panic shot through his body, more tears pricking his eyes. His tongue was gone!
Ron dove to the right, biting the inside of his cheek when pain flared in his arm again. The Slytherin levelled his wand and he curled into himself slightly, hoping that whatever damaged inflicted wouldn't be spread to the rest of his body. He'd like to be able to limp himself to Professor Snape's office for healing; the Hospital Wing was rather far.
"Oi! What're you doing?" Ron's heart thumped, stopped and missed a beat, before racing off.
It was Percy.
The Slytherin turned around, and Ron couldn't see anything that happened; his view was being blocked by the large frame of the Slytherin. The Slytherin slumped, before collapsing and Ron tried to scramble up without jostling his arm too much. He met the light blue eyes of his brother and looked down, studying the crack patterns of the stone.
There was an odd sort of silence, and he looked up when a pair of shoes stopped about 3 feet away from him. Ron studied his brother, who had a blank look on his face. "You should get back to your common room before curfew." He nodded hurriedly, going down the hallway as quickly as possible only to stop when another set of words stopped him. "You have more courage than I do, Ron, otherwise I'd be in your house. Fuck'em up."
He looked back and saw Percy staring at him with a smirk on his face and a cold look in his eyes. Slytherin, he thought. He smiled, nodding softly before beginning his trek to the Snape's Office to get his tongue back and arm healed.
Ron entered the Common Room, making a beeline to his usual spot. Flopping down, he pulled out 2 pieces of parchment and began his assignment for Professor Snape, naming 3 neuro-suppressant agents for the Sopophorous Bean and why they are important. Scribbling away, he tried to make the spaces between his letters as big as possible and made his lettering as large as he dared; it helped to write like that and then the letters didn't flop and fly like they normally did. Not that it helped. His sentences were still broken, and his letters written awkwardly.
He worked, while wondering how many games of chess he could win after he was done. Chess was a normal game in the common room, one that he was very good at. He'd beat half the first years and was setting times to beat the others. He wanted to be able to beat all the ones who dared to play chess, it wasn't fun to play when they weren't any good at it like Harry.
His essay was half-way completed in about 45 minutes (he couldn't really read his books properly without Hermione to help him with the words; they were always floaty or jumbled) and he put it out to dry.
Ron pulled out a book to look like he was busy, only to stop when a third year came up to him, a sour look on their face. "Your troublesome brothers insisted I give these to you." Ron took them hesitantly, noting the disgusted look on the student's face.
He noted the handwriting on the scroll, his heart falling into his stomach. His mum and dad.
Ron opened it, trying to figure out if it was good or bad just by glancing at the first two words.
Ron,
I hope that you're going well in your house. If you are having any troubles, please write me and I'll see what I can do.
Good luck.
Love,
Dad.
There was nothing from his mother.
(-)
Harry had always had this odd fascination with eyes. Even though one of the rules of Privet Drive was not to make eyes contact, he still made eye contact with his teachers, classmates, and other people just because people's eyes were so expressive. If their face was impassive, their eyes told another story.
And sometimes, it was just the color of their eyes that fascinated him. Brown eyes, blue eyes, hazel eyes, grey eyes, amber eyes, indigo eyes; beautifully expressive eyes.
The first time it happened, he couldn't really understand what was happening, he had looked into the eyes of Matthew Reynolds, an old friend of Dudley's that had moved away, and suddenly he was being bombarded with thoughtssentencesideasmemories that weren't his. It scared him but it had also given him a splitting headache so bad that he had nearly passed out halfway to Privet Drive.
The second time it happened had been with Uncle Vernon and he had gotten so frightened that he'd started begging not to be punished, tears and all, which resulted in one of the worst beatings he'd ever gotten.
Slowly, he'd learned that if he made eye contact for too long, he'd read(?) people's minds which gave both participants a massive headache or, in his case, a shredded back and possibly broken bones. Also, a dark, spider filled cupboard, but he didn't mind that part so much.
He'd quickly learned that some magicals had mind shields and others did not. It was very annoying to figure it out, because sometimes it was a struggle to get it, whether or not he broke eye contact with the person.
Harry had learned rather quickly that mind reading (? searching ?) wasn't effective against Slytherins, as they all seemed to have barriers.
But really, he preferred to use it against all the students that liked to corner him in hallways and attack him because he was a 'traitor, and dark wizard that deserved to be put down.' Giving them massive headaches probably wasn't the solution, but it wasn't like they ever remembered he was there. Only that they got a splitting headache.
Their Head of House, he learned, had a very strong mind barrier after accidentally going in during a potions class. He'd nearly tumbled right through it but easily averted the situation by breaking eye contact and focusing his mind on something else. Harry's potion nearly blew, but since he'd learned that potions was very close to cooking in some ways, he'd avoided that as well.
His other worries lied in the fact that in a week he had a mandatory check-up with Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse, which wasn't exactly ideal. Uncle Vernon was sure to kill him if it got out tahat he had given him multiple beating since he was 3, and he wasn't sure if he would survive certain death again; Boy-Who-Lived or not.
So, with Loki giving his commentary, he'd get through the classes, hiding his snake speaking skills from all the other magicals in the castle. Hermione and Ron (his first ever friends!) didn't know about Loki or his snake speak, though he often entertained the idea of telling them. They'd proven themselves trustworthy friends; Ron who fussed over how small he was, piling his plate with food or Hermione who would toy with his tie, telling him he tied it wrong and taught him and Ron spells to defend themselves.
During lunch, one his first day of classes, he'd been pulled away, Professor Snape stating that the Headmaster wanted to see him in his office and that he especially liked sugar quills.
He'd gone, only to be faced with judgmental twinkling eyes, a fake impersonation of a gentle grandfather, and underhanded manipulation tactics using his (dead) parents. With a pounding heart, prickling eyes, and clenched fists, is how he walked to his next class, seething about the Headmaster who was so powerful and so annoying.
("Your parents were Gryffindor's Harry- don't you want to experience what they were?" / "A dark reputation, I only want what's best for you- a good content, boisterous, time at Hogwarts could go a long way, don't you agree?" / [twinkling blue eyes] [disgust at his tie and insignia] ['Why did he care where I was sorted?' 'What do I mean to him that he does this?' 'He doesn't do this for the other students, why do I matter so much?'] / "I think we're done here, Headmaster. I have a class to get to." / [alarm bells in his mind ringing] [cloudy rage in blue eyes] [flashing disgust] [sickly yellow bitter magic] ['why does his magic feel so dangerous?'] / "Of course, Harry. I hope you think about what I said today.")
Loki continually hissed about how he could easily kill the Headmaster, who the wrinkly old man was nothing against his powerful venom; he sated the irate snake by promising him 2 yummy mice and pieces of the 'unmoving, weak, lump' which was actually a drumstick that he hid in his pocket.
Hedwig, his gorgeously smart bird, was very protective, biting people that she didn't approve of or that one Slytherin that called her a rat with wings. It was wonderful in his opinion.
So, with all this in his mind, he stared at the unconscious 4th year Gryffindor, the form twitching from explosive pain going through his mind.
Harry hummed before turning away, intent of being far away from the scene when the body is found.
Harry looked up when a curse cut close to his ear. It landed on the lit orb next to him, shattering the glass. He ducked his head, biting his tongue at the sting of pain of the glass cutting his neck and back; his shirt was the only thing protecting his back and that was a very thin material.
He shoved his book off his lap and ducked the next curse, looking around to find his attacker.
§ Hatchling, to the left. § Harry looked where Loki told him, his eyes landing on a cruelly smirking 6th year (Rowle he believed) flanked by 4 other students. He dodged another curse, before sending his own to them, an Impedimenta, before shooting an Avifors then an Ebublio, Locomotor Wibbly, Pulus, before finishing off with a Vermiculus.
He snickered at them before casting an Expelliarmus with a large sweep of his wand, causing all the wands to fly at him. § Good magics hatchling. But next time, a bit swifter with your strikes. § Making a note to speak with Loki after this, he stared down the collapsed forms of the Slytherins, wondering what to do with the wands.
"You may hand me the wands, Mr. Potter. I will return it to them after their discussion with me in my office." He turned to see his tall, (very tall), looking at him with dark eyes. Harry held out the 5 wands, shifting as Loki coiled tighter around his chest.
Then, without much warning, a pale hand reached out quicker than lightning, pulling him behind his Head of House. Something hot looped around his wrist, holding his tight and he stayed perfectly quiet, making no sign of pain. Harry looked at his wrist to see a thick red line crawling up his arm, leaving what felt like fire piercing through his skin and into his bones.
He whimpered softly when they tightened, biting his lips roughly to keep tears from falling. He followed the red, only to find the 6th year Slytherin, Antonius Rowle, looking at him with his face flushed with a humiliated anger, eyes sparkling with a cruel intent, and his mouth twisted into an ugly sneer.
Loki gave a warning his. § Nest magics. Olde powerful magics. §
A strong tug had him stumbling forward, his wand coming from his hand into the other's. His heart began jackhammering against his ribs.
Everything after that was a blur, memories crashing into his mind like a hurricane.
Spells flew at him, too many for him to dodge. Angry grey eyes gleamed at him. The red cord continued burning his arm.
(He was fighting his uncle as he was dragged to the fireplace. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry. Please, please, I didn't mean to- Won't do it again, Uncle, I promis-" Harry screamed when his uncle burned leg with the iron poker.)
He stared at he was continually placed under spells, most of them humiliating probably. He stayed very, very still.
(Hard boots stomped on his wrist, eliciting a very audible crack sound. Harry didn't make a sound.)
Shouts flew across the Common Room; his air supply was caught off. He wondered when Loki was going to attack them.
(His uncle was choking him again, spitting words of anger. He wondered what he had done. Then he remembered the burnt lunch.)
Grey eyes stared at him and he stared back. And then he was racing into them, pummeling his way into Rowle's mind. And it was chaos.
He was vaguely aware of tortured screams reaching his ears, but he was having far too much fun wrecking the chaotic mind to even care that much. He shattered multiple memories, pounding against angry thoughts, tangling stands of emotions; it was magnificent.
And then he was being drawn out, a freckled face with blue eyes came into his vision. Ron. Harry panted, closing his eyes against his pounding headache. He opened them when he felt someone coming up behind him. Hermione kneeled next to him, her eyes shifting down to his next, before looking at him questioningly. He shrugged.
Spells had been thrown before he attacked Rowle, he was curious to see what spells. He looked around, his eyes landing on what he thought was Rowle. Snape was kneeled next to his body, his face dark with rage.
Harry didn't even attempt to hide his smile.
The next morning, the Common Room was ablaze with soft whispers and chattering. Apparently, Rowle had been bitten by a very venomous snake and had nearly died during the night.
Harry packed some extra drumsticks from Lunch for Loki.
xXXxXXxXXx
Harry tugged at his robes, as he walked toward Defense, toying with the small slip of paper in his hands.
'Harry Potter is to be excused half-way through Defense Against the Dark Arts for his mandatory medical examination with Madame Pomfrey. It is to take place from 11:20 to 12:00 at the longest. If it interferes with a significant assignment or class, please send an immediate message to the Office of Professor Snape.
Severus Snape,
Head of Slytherin House'
Ron and Hermione had already gotten theirs the previous Friday, both of them crystal clear if only that Hermione was a touch short. Ron however was expected to frow to be very tall, which wasn't very hard to believe.
It had been about 2 weeks since Rowle had deemed it fit to burn him and attack him like a wild animal. 2 weeks since he had almost broken Rowle's mind. 2 weeks since he'd gotten a letter, beseeching that he refrains from pressing charges against the Ancient and Noble House of Rowle. 2 weeks since the whispers about him started to finally die down, only to come back up. 2 weeks since he'd even thought about using his mind power thing.
Professor Snape had asked him what he'd done but he didn't say anything, staring stubbornly at the ground while his arm was healed.
The memories of the Dursley's were something that he didn't really forget but shoved away. He remembered them when he was sleeping though, and his mind was filled with screams and blood, his uncle's words and laughter, silent whispers of death.
Harry couldn't find it within himself to make them stop or tell anyone about them, so he said naught. Besides, who would believe him? Nobody ever did. And if they did find out that their Savior had been beaten, they'd mock him and tell him how weak he was. He never had been that important anyways.
Hermione walked up to him, drawing him from his thoughts. She was silent though she handed him a small list. It was a list of spells, Harry smiled. She had begun teaching him and Ron spells that they could use to defend themselves. Not that they had been attacked within the span of 3 days.
Things had been calming around Hogwarts and Harry was glad that he wasn't being called a traitor or dark anymore. Not that he believed they weren't saying it in private. Oh no, he was sure that they were. But it was nice for them to take a break for however long it lasted.
The Houses had quieted, and it was nice.
Ron had gotten a single letter about 2 weeks into school, from his parents he'd been told. Harry had asked what they had said, but the tear tracks on Ron's face told him everything that he hadn't been told.
His siblings, apparently, the twins and Percy, had gotten better around Ron, no longer keeping from him but also not exactly actively speaking with him.
The pranks from the twins were genius and they were still working out how to disperse them through the house, keeping the wrong person from getting the prank instead of the hoped person. It was slightly troublesome, but Ron was an apparent genius when it came to this, coming up with wonderful ideas for how to do it.
Harry slid into the classroom, taking his usual spot next to Ron with Hermione next to him. The Slytherins poured in, early as usual.
Quirrell was sitting at his desk, writing with a long eagle quill. His scar throbbed and he closed his eyes in a futile hope to stave off the incoming headache. It didn't work.
The lesson, without the infernal stuttering, would have been categorized as informative if it weren't so hard to understand due to the stuttering. It was useful, the workings of how light magic combats dark magic; how light magic can be drawn on just power but dark magic draws on emotion, power, and will; it was rather nice to know that while Quirrell had a terrible stutter he was rather knowledgeable.
About half-way into the lesson he raised his hand, interrupting whatever the Professor had to say. "Y-yes Mr. P-p-potter?"
"I have a slip from Professor Snape, sir. I am to be excused half-way through the lesson for a preset appointment." He held out the slip, watching as shaky hands took it from his fingers. Quirrell nodded.
"Y-you m-m-may go." He nodded, cramming everything into his bag and bolting from the room, racing to the Hospital Wing.
So, despite his racing heart and the threatening words of his Uncle, he entered.
And then, not even 10 minutes later was exiting with a weakly pounding heart and shallow breathing.
He was healthy apparently. He was prescribed a light nutrient potion to help him slightly with his weight and was told to try to eat slightly more protein at meal times. Apparently, she'd gotten a file from his Magical Guardian (which, for the record, he didn't know he even had one), and it was filled with lies. Oddly enough, he wasn't as relieved about not being beaten to death by his Uncle as he thought he'd be.
[ 'Just a few light scrapes and a twisted ankle dear; oh the clumsiness of a child. A few paddles from punishments it looks like but that is to be expected.' / 'A bit under the normal height of children your age but then again, your father was small until his 6th year.' / 'Honestly, the Potter metabolism is a curse; you need to eat more protein during meals and carry snacks around during the day. I'll write you a note.' / 'Other than a few minor things, you are quite healthy Mister Potter. I will want a check-up after Winter Break to check on your progress. We'll see how much you've gained then. / 'Give this to your head of house; I'm sure Professor Snape wouldn't mind supplying the potions.' / 'Thank you for coming Mister Potter. Good health to you.' / 'Thank you Madame Pomfrey.' / (He didn't feel quite as relieved as he thought; why did he think she'd notice? They never do.) ]
When he asked why she already had documents on file, she had said that 'Professor Dumbledore had given it to me, as your magical guardian. It was just to save me some more time so that she could get to the other patients without having to worry about you. It's your most recent document from a private healer of your appointment during the middle of August.' And he hadn't said anything, to busy trying to keep himself from exploding. So he merely nodded or shook his head, occasionally answering verbally when he could.
Dumbledore was his magical guardian. Why hadn't Harry seen him during his childhood? Did he know about the beatings? Or did he know everything and just not care? He figured Dumbledore knew. Somehow, that hurt worse than anything, to think that somebody knew but said nothing. Because Harry was the Savior of the Wizarding World. He killed Voldemort so obviously he could deal with a few muggles. A few bruises, broken bones, and blood wasn't going to hurt him. It didn't hurt for him to know what pain was, to hear the taunts that never ended; it didn't hurt to be curled in a cupboard, to plead for someone to save him until it finally sunk in that no one was ever going to. It was never that important obviously.
He was never that important.
That meant nobody would actually care if he mentioned it. If Dumbledore didn't, the Great Defeater of Grindelwald and Leader of all things Good and Light, then nobody else would care for him.
And so, with these facts in mind, Harry spent the rest of lunch trying to disappear the hollow feeling in his chest.
(-)
Severus Snape sunk into his chair, folding his hands together as he waited for the next student to knock on his door. A thin file was in front of his on his desk, holding the medical report from Madame Pomfrey and a few select statements from Minerva and Filius. Binns was a lost cause and Quirrell was such a fool, and his stutter was rather tiresome to pick apart. He opted out on asking his opinion and just went for the main two.
There was a soft knock on his door, and he adjusted himself to look more inviting. Not that it was possible with his tall stature and impatient personality. And children weren't among his favorite beings to be with, not that he had a choice, but if he did, he most definitely would not be here. It is quite... testing to say the least, to be with children and teenagers who had no appreciation for the concise art of potion making, and the power of such a skill.
He gave a low answer of "Enter" after a few seconds, watching as Ms. Granger entered uncertainly, her constantly filled bag of books nowhere to be seen. He motioned to the chair across from him, watching her form for any tension lines or slow movements as she sat down. She shifted under his assessing gaze, but he spotted no seemingly pained spots so no more bruises.
He took a deep breath and tried to speak in what he hoped what a soothing manner. "Miss Granger, your medical examination showed that you have physical troubles. But I do have to ask if you have any problems at your residence?"
Her brow furrowed and she shook her head, seemingly confused. "Any abnormally harsh words? Perhaps a few too many snide remarks? Even a forgetfulness of your safety and needs?"
"No sir. My parents are very kind to me and my father enjoys it when I tell him about my newest book or my ramblings about the museum. Mama is awesome, she takes me everywhere and always shares this little fact about the oddest things. She loves it when I share my thoughts, encouraging me to learn everything I can." Severus nodded, her homelife seemed well and she obviously loved her parents if her bright eyes were anything to go off of.
He flipped to the other page of the file and looked up at her. "Now, Miss Granger, I have gotten a few reports of you being... 'over-enthusiastic' when it comes to your activity in class and assignments. So, I will say this now and I will not repeat myself. When you raise your hand, you stay silent and if you are not called on, do not blurt out the answer; your assignments are to be the correct length, if only an inch or so over, never nearly a full foot over the assigned length."
He took a deep breath to continue his speech. I will be collecting reports from the other teachers at the end of every week starting this coming Monday, and for every unneeded inch I will give you a day of detention. I do sincerely hope it does not come to that. Am I understood?" He stared at her shining eyes and watched as she nodded meekly.
"A verbal response Miss Granger."
"O-of course sir."
"For the final part of this discussion, what are your basic goals for your time at Hogwarts?"
Severus got his answer immediately. "I want to learn everything Hogwarts has to offer."
"Very well. Academic goals?"
"The best. I want to prove that I deserve a place here."
He nodded. It was an answer he had expected. "That is all Miss Granger, it seems our time for speaking has come to a close."
"Of course, thank you Professor." She a quick hop up and easy walk to the door she was gone. Severus sighed.
The night needed to come to an end quickly please.
Severus grappled at the speeding, panicked force going through his mind.
This was not supposed to be happening, why was Harry fucking Potter going through his mind like this?! And they was he so fucking hard to get out?!
He hadn't meant to snap at the boy, he'd just been on his last nerve with the twisted answers and blatant avoidance of looking at him. Startled green eyes had looked up, met his, and suddenly there was something tumbling into his Occlumency shields. It shattered them before he even had a chance to push them out and then the 11-year-old was wreaking havoc in his mind due to his panicked state.
This was not something the child should be capable of, but the laws of the Universe did not seem to apply to the boy. He pushed against the force, pulling up as many barriers as he could to shield himself from damage to his psych.
Then, with all the force he could manage, Severus pushed against the barreling force, using every ounce of power he could to get it out of his head.
And then he was staring at a pale and trembling form, heaving breaths and sobs coming from the figure.
He was up in a swift movement, ignoring the pounding of his forming headache, and kneeled beside the seated boy. Severus was terrible at comforting, but he attempted it with an awkward back rub that seemed to be working. He refused to stoop so low as to hum or say anything comforting, but he rubbed the child's back if only to get him to calm down to some semblance of coherency.
When the sobs stopped, he stood up quickly, discreetly pulling out a headache reliever and downing it. The phial was banished and he sat behind his desk.
The child was back to looking at his hands, which were still shaking, but Severus was in no rush see those green eyes after the... incident that had just occurred. Potter got a few moments to collect himself before Severus began speaking again.
"You are a Legilimens. An unstoppable one at that." Green eyes snapped up and he avoided them easily by focusing on the bridge of those horrid glasses.
A confused frown marred his face. "A what?"
"A natural Legilimens. You have the ability to delve into the layers of the mind; it is quite a difficult thing to learn and even more so to master. An unstoppable Legilimens is not only a natural one, meaning you have the in-born ability of such, but you cannot be stopped really. The only reason I was able to push you out was because you were panicked and were desperate to get out. Had you been intent of driving me to madness by destroying my mind, I would not have been able to stop you."
"Oh." Apparently, the boy was only capable of singular syllables at the moment. Which, considering what he'd just been informed of, wasn't all that surprising.
Severus pondered over the situation for a moment before sighing, "I can teach you how to control your power, if you wish to be taught."
"Yes sir, I would like that."
"Very well. You will be at my office on Friday at 8pm to begin your lessons."
Potter gave a soft nod. "Of course sir. Thank you."
"You are dismissed then." The boy left quickly, his head ducked down.
Severus grabbed a bottle of fire whiskey, a clear glass tumbler, and poured himself a generous amount before downing it in a 2 large gulps. He laid on his sofa, rubbing his temples to stave off his coming headache.
The last of the Trio, Ronald Weasley had proved to be just as surprising as his friend.
The red-head looked vaguely unsettled as he shifted in his spot. Severus watched him for a moment before asking his next question, twisting it in a slight way. "What do you want to learn here?"
He received a startled look and then a shrug. "I don't know."
He pressed his lips into a tight line. "What are your goals for your time here at Hogwarts? What is it that you want to learn?"
"I want to be the abnormal Weasley."
"Elaborate."
"I want to be different from my brothers. I don't want to just be another Weasley."
"Very well. You certainly started well by getting sorted into Slytherin. Now, what is it that you want to learn?" There was silence.
Blue eyes fixed themselves on Severus' desk and he got no answer for nearly a full minute. Then there was the softest of whispers. "Everything and anything."
Severus raised his eyebrow, prompting an explanation silently. "I want to learn everything about magic and anything it can offer me." Weasley's eyes burned for a split second and Severus knew that the boy would be able to do it. Especially if he stayed with who he was associating with currently.
"You have your goal; now put them into action." He received a nod and he was pleased to note the boy still had a spark of determination in his eyes. He did enjoy helping his snakes grow. "Our time seems to be over; I do hope that you succeed in your plans Mister Weasley."
"Thank you Professor." Severus gave him a nod and the boy smiled widely at him, surprising him slightly.
Severus sighed again, downing his 3rd glass of the potent liquid. Those three, should they continue to associate with each other, will become quite powerful. Both magically and politically with the Boy-Who-Lived on their side, who happened to be the Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Potter and possibly Black, considering his godfather.
He'd seen the way they defended themselves, had been informed during staff meetings about students laying unconscious in the halls only to wake with pounding headaches and no recollection of what happened (now he knew it had been Potter but he wasn't going to say anything), Granger in the library bent over all the books he'd left listed in her bag, and he even knew about Potter's snake though he wasn't exactly sure how he'd gotten the snake if he went with Hagrid to Diagon Alley.
Potter also seems to be rather adept when it came to Potions, surprising Severus to no end though it had been paired with a small amount of pride for the boy. He was especially proficient when it came to preparing the ingredients, chopping, powdering, and slicing with a clearly honed skill.
That fact worried him slightly, prompting him to ask for specific questions about his home life and his stature but all his questions with answered with dancing replies and sensical facts which did not help Severus. Especially when his file fit his story about his small stature and slight weight problem, with Madame Pomfrey's notes written at the very end, which conveniently helped the boy's case.
Severus, at the end, stopped speaking but he made sure to keep an eye on the boy for any problems that may point to abuse of any kind. And if he did, he would do everything in his power to help the boy even if it meant going behind the Headmaster's back, because he was sure that he would insist the boy go back to his relatives for the sake of 'protection and blood wards'. Because that just how the old coot was; no regard for the health for others, only assessing it if it messed with whatever plans he had.
Not that he could do anything. The Headmaster was useful to Severus despite all things and he wasn't a spy for no reason; he could easily get his plans done without anybody knowing unless he wanted them too.
He was also a had a Mastery in Potions, Defense, and Spell-Craft. Not that anybody knew about the last one. It was kept a secret for many reasons but could be easily found if one had that will to search. And many didn't, taking one look at him and deciding that he couldn't be that talented many things, only knowing that he had a Master in Potions.
It was absurd how easy it was to trick other people into thinking he was something he wasn't. Not that he was complaining but Severus always did enjoy a challenge once in a while.
He sat up, easily changing into his sleepwear and sat on his bed. He would continue with this tomorrow, worry and plan like he normally did. And possibly brood but that wasn't really on the agenda.
Severus knew that the Trio was going to shake things up these next 7 years.
(-)
Albus was a chess master.
He planned, he planned, and he collected. It wasn't hard when you've worked as hard as he had, was as powerful as he was, had as many followers as he did.
All it had taken for his image to boost to astronomical proportions was for him to defeat his old lover, Gellert Grindelwald. After that everything went his way, he was asked to become the Minister of Magic for Britain, became the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards; Chief Warlock for the Wizengamot; and then Headmaster of Hogwarts, the best place for him to be, to mold the students that had specific talents and skills that would be of much use to him.
His planning extended to years in advance but sometimes things needed to be changed because of unforeseen events.
Such as the sorting of one Harry Potter.
The Boy-Who-Lived, the Savior of the Wizarding World, the seemingly Ultimate Gryffindor, in Slytherin, the house of all things dark and evil. And what's even worse, he seemed to be adjusting very well.
His first attempt of convincing him hadn't worked the way it was supposed too. The boy had been very tense throughout, looking offended by the way he had been speaking. Which really didn't make sense because Albus had been very careful to make sure that he was tactful and grandfatherly. But the boy did not seem to buy it, with how he easily dismissed himself from the conversation as though they had been talking about mere weather patterns.
And he seemed almost, happy with how he had been sorted, conversing easily through the House.
The few times he'd asked Severus about Harry and how he was adjusting, he'd been told that the boy was easily making friends and allies. With Dark Family students. This was something that sent disgust to the very core of Albus.
How had this happen?
The Dursley's were only supposed to make the boy easier to sway, easier to mold. Instead he got a Slytherin with a cold mind.
This was troublesome but sometimes plans went awry and he just had to take more drastic measures.
Albus desperately hoped that he could say fix this lest there be another Dark Lord on the rise.
Author's Note - heyyyyyy
how're you doing this fine morning/afternoon/evening/night?
Okayyy so first off, Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. And while I do not agree with her views and opinions are certain subjects, I do love her creation of Harry Potter so only the plot and OCs belong to me ;)
Secondly, those of you here for a slow burn story shouldn't be here because i cannot write a slow burn story for the life of me. It is how it is, and if you don't like it well... thats not my problem.
thirdddd, the trio will have insecurities and will sometimes think bad of themselves but never fear! nothing too terrible will happen to them. except me. i will happen to them and i will destroy them.
fourth, is they are going to be like suuuuuuppppeeeerrrr powerful so be ready for that ig. and they are going to became badass and shit so yeh.
fifth, i hate molly weasley. like i know some of y'all like her but i HATE her with a burning passion so i am incapable of writing her a good person at this time so yeah. i also hate dumbledore and am incapable of writing him as a good person at this time so again, yeah.
sixth, snape is a mentor type person to the trio, not a father or paternal figure but just a mentor type thing. but they do care for him so dont get that wrong.
seventh, they will get romantical interests starting around 3rd year,4th year but they will continue to be best friends, siblings, really close figures. !THEY WILL NOT BE STRAIGHT! im incapable of coming up with straight relationships for the trio, and they're all going to have official dates or whatever by the middle of 5th year.
Soooo, that's it. my lucky apollo number seven things and i'll see you guys in the next chapter!br /
Bye loves!