September 1, 1991; 05:00am, Hellsing Headquarters, Dining Room
Unsettling silence reined throughout the manor, unusual even for the ungodly hour. It seemed that only the morning staff puttered around, attempting to shake off sleep, or fighting through staying awake after restless nights spent with nightmares or their own company. Harry found the quiet soothing, however the lack of people he had come to grow accustomed to grated, as he crept into the private dining room.
Despite nerves, he had gotten his first restful sleep in ages, however it did little to dispel anxieties over the entire affair with leaving for school. Surprising to him, as he peered around the room, he spied Walter with a plate of breakfast, reading the newspaper as he sipped from a cup of what smelled like coffee. He glanced up, clearly surprised to see Harry- Or anyone else for that matter. It was an hour before the retainer would normally wake Harry, or prod Integra out of her office.
"Good morning, Harry. Would you like some breakfast?"
The boy shook his head, looking a bit ill as the food scent finally reached him. Walter smirked faintly. "Ah, have the jitters, then? You needn't forgo food, or you'll be sick on the train. At least have some toast."
Walter obligingly offered Harry his plate. Hesitant at first, the boy twitched as politeness won out. He was not hungry, but he admitted that the honey and butter on the crisp bread was calming, in a strange way. He had not often been allowed sweets at the Dursleys; he found himself enjoying the things that he had missed out on. Walter smiled at him knowingly as he folded up the paper and sat it aside.
"Sir Integra will be unable to accompany you to the platform, however I will be seeing you through. A dangerous situation has kept us all detained and on edge, as I'm sure you've noticed. Quite frankly it will be a relief to be out for a short while. We will be leaving at eight o'clock."
The reminder made Harry grimace, setting the toast back down. "What... what if this is all some sort of mistake? What if I can't do magic?" Speaking his fears aloud made the young wizard itch uncomfortably. He was still largely unused to the lack of ridicule or disdain. Though, he was adjusting, by the mere fact that he was speaking to the butler without prompt.
Walter appreciated the trust he seemed to have gained in the boy. Approaching the topic carefully, he queried, "Have you never made anything unusual happen before? Such as a wound healing quicker than it should. Or other similar occurrences."
Almost shaking his head in the negative, Harry paused as he belatedly recalled some distant memory. Biting his lip, he fidgeted, before finally dredging up the courage to mention it. "I was running from my cousin once, and suddenly found myself on the school roof."
Shooting Harry a comforting smile, Walter nodded knowingly. "Ah, yes. That is called 'accidental' magic. An uncontrolled burst of power, normally caused by high emotional distress. It manifests in wizard children quite commonly."
Truthfully, the topic was one that Walter had been wondering at as well. He knew of the abuse Harry had suffered at the hands of his relatives. It puzzled him that very few incidents of accidental magic seemed to have occurred at the Dursley residence. The ministry of magic kept log files for all such incidents, in case interference for muggle-borns was needed. The goblins had rather gleefully furnished Harry's report, for a 'small' fee. According to the record, he only had four cases of accidental magic. Once, turning his teacher's hair blue, when he was seven years old. Next, growing his own hair back, twice in the same year. Last, a most curious display of self preservation, by aparating himself onto the roof of his school.
But yet, not a single case had occurred within the Dursley residence. Of course Walter had learned the names of the boy's relatives. Wisely, his decision had been to keep such knowledge to himself. If the urge to invade Privet Drive, and torture the Durlseys until they were nothing more than gibbering piles of wasted flesh, was so strong in him, he was well aware that Integra would likely follow through. Not that this would be a bad thing. Politics stayed his hand, however. Without knowing Dumbledore's intentions for lying about the situation, they needed to tread carefully, and stay within the law. Publicly, at least.
The goblins had hinted to him that they were cooking up revenge of their own. He whole-heartedly approved, having some notion of their penchant for organized crime. One way or another, Harry's abusers would suffer dearly for their misdeeds. The Angel of Death would have preferred their lives in exchange, however, imprisonment would do, if he had no choice on the matter.
Attention turning back to the boy, Walter frowned at him until he at last picked the toast back up and resumed nibbling. Large progress had been made in such a short time. Walter would not see their careful work dropped back a notch over a little case of nerves. He nodded in satisfaction once the entire piece of toast was devoured. He was not happy with it, but he was not cruel enough to force Harry to eat much more. It was his hope that the sweets cart on the train would be too tempting to pass up for the growing boy.
Glancing at the clock hanging near the door, the butler rose to his feet. "Have your things packed already?"
A mute nod was accepted, given the boy's obvious nerves. "Good. You have some free time, so relax for a bit. Simply be in the foyer at eight o'clock. Don't worry about your things, I'll see to it myself. Also, I took the liberty of sending your raven ahead to the castle."
"Oh, thank you." Harry felt slightly guilty. In the rush of life at Hellsing, he had forgotten about the bird. Wandering aimlessly once dismissed, he soon found himself in the library, browsing through the stacks of books. He was not entirely certain that he was alone, glimpsing shifts in the shadows. Shrugging it off as Alucard, he snagged an interesting looking tome on werewolves, before making his way to the back lounge area, near the windows. The shadows continued to move about aimlessly in his periphery, but the vampire made no move to approach. The sudden change of behavior put Harry on edge, but largely, he was relieved.
The time passed all too quickly, and soon Harry found himself prodded into a car. Walter was his only company for the drive to King's Cross station in London. He provided a quiet, but oddly comforting, anchor for the boy's ever growing nerves. He felt a bit faint as they arrived, and he spotted all of the people. He was infinitely thankful for Walter, as the man had no issue clearing a path, pushing Harry's trunk on a luggage cart. Following close behind, they stopped abruptly just between platforms nine and ten. Peering around, Harry blinked at the realization that there was no platform nine and three quarters. Before he could question, Walter gestured for him to join him near the wall.
"It's an illusion. You simply step through calm as you please. Only magic users can make it through... I will have to leave you here."
Harry felt a bit crestfallen, but nodded in acceptance. "It's not that I wouldn't like to see you off. I would prefer to keep a low profile, however. I'm certain you recall my conversation with Olivander."
The prompt made Harry blink. Honestly he had almost forgotten the overheard conversation. Though not understanding all of it, he supposed it would make sense for Walter to not want to bump into old 'friends'. Their farewell was awkward, neither quite sure whether a handshake was appropriate, but not comfortable enough for a hug. Walter settled on lightly squeezing his shoulder, before offering a couple words of wisdom.
"It will seem difficult at first, but eventually you'll settle in. Try not to fall into house rivalry, or you'll find yourself miserable from the various competitions. You may owl myself or Sir Integra as you desire, and if anything untoward happens, you have Alucard's gift."
With that, he was urged firmly towards the wall. Drawing in a deep breath, Harry forced himself to straighten up a bit. It would be his first time around children his own age since he escaped the Dursleys. The thought was not entirely comforting, but he told himself, as he made his way through the gate and onto the platform, that not all children were like Dudley and his gang. The few he encountered who potentially could be, would be nothing, without an adult backing them.
A shudder ran through his frame at the thought, but solidified his resolve. If any adults at the castle tried to physically harm him, it would be within his power to do something about it. Alucard's gem lay like an anchor beneath his shirt. That he could actually use the shadow remained to be seen, but he forced the self-doubt away. If he could poison his own relatives, he could call a vampire to help get him out of harms way. But of course, thinking, and doing, were two entirely separate things.
Picking his way slowly through the dwindling crowds of the platform, he felt distinctly uncomfortable as some of the adults shot him odd looks. Keeping his head down, he sped up a bit, hurrying to the train as the whistle sounded a warning. Struggling with his trunk, he could have wept for joy as two sets of hands came into his view, helping him pull it up the stairs. Glancing up from lamenting a bruised toe, he blinked.
Before him stood identical twins, both with red hair and freckles. They looked a bit older than him, but smiled readily enough. They extended a hand each, making him scramble a bit to shake both at once. They winked mischievously, easing some of the tension from his frame. They did not seem malicious.
"Hello, I'm Gred,"
"And I'm Forge!"
"Better known as,"
"Fred and George!"
Watching them speak made him want to smile. At their expectant looks, he blushed at his own lack of manners. "Er... I'm Harry."
Their eyes drifted towards his forehead for a fraction of a moment. To his relief, his hair was cooperating in covering the scar, for once. They did not seem to mind one way or another, whether or not he was Harry Potter, as they chattered amicably at each other as they helped the younger boy find an empty compartment. He was immensely greatful for the treatment, as the sheer amount of children running through the corridor made him shudder. The train felt infinitely smaller than it actually was.
They left him with brief promises to return, after saying goodbye to their mother and sister. The prospect of them coming back was one Harry looked forward to. He had not spoken much, unless one addressed him during the search, but listening to their banter was amusing. A short while after the train left, he was disturbed from reading quietly, by the compartment door sliding open. A tall red-head around Harry's age stumbled in, dragging his trunk. He looked a bit put-out when he finally looked up to see it already occupied.
"Oh, hi. I'm Ron Weasley. Do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."
The dark boy shrugged, not really caring one way or another. Ron took it as an invitation, carelessly letting his trunk fall in the middle of the floor. Hiding his face back behind his book, Harry suppressed a wince at the loud noise. The new boy held a strong resemblance to Fred and George, but there was no desire to speak to him, as he immediately set about being as obnoxious as possible, without uttering a word. He breathed loudly, shuffled his feet nervously, and heaved an annoyed sigh, before muttering pointedly about his mum.
At receiving no response, Ron finally turned to start a conversation. "So, what's your name? You're a first year, yeah?"
Letting out a quiet, annoyed, breath, Harry resigned himself to setting the book aside. "It's Harry." A gasp, and darted look towards his forehead made the quiet boy want to sock Ron in his dirt-smudged nose.
"The Harry Potter?" The awed note informed Harry that his bangs had at last betrayed him. Instead of verbalizing, he just nodded shortly, hoping to discourage any more talk. It did not work. The boy prattled on.
"I mean, I'm sitting next to the Harry Potter! D'ya remember... that night I mean, when you vanquished you-know-who?"
Gaze darkening, he shook his head, pointedly not answering. After a long moment, Ron let out a rude huff, "Trust a celebrity to not want to consort with 'common' folk."
Drawing in a deep breath, to keep from actually hitting the other boy, Harry's voice was soft in his anger. It was not often he got to vocalize displeasure; at the Dursleys he had been forced to hide it. The action was foreign, but oddly pleasing.
"I just don't wish to discuss the murder of my parents, with an entitled, dirt-nosed, prat whom I've yet to even speak to, save my name."
Rather than being chastised, Ron's face turned a strange shade of tomato-red. Getting to his feet, he shot a ferocious glare, and looked as if he might resort to physical violence. They were both saved the trouble, as the door slid open again, the twins peeking in with disapproving frowns. "Ikkle Ronnikins-"
"-Why don't you,"
"Go bother,"
"Someone who actually cares."
"I mean honestly,"
"What were you thinking,"
"You prat. Wait 'til mum,"
"Hears about this!"
They slid in and shoved their brother out before he could do more than grunt in outrage. His trunk soon followed, barely avoiding smashing him in the face as they literally chucked it. Slamming the door on any attempts at protest, the twins turns apologetic grimaces on Harry. For the most part, the younger boy was trying not to laugh at Ron's expression at having his own brothers toss him out.
"Sorry 'bout that, Harry."
"Ikkle Ronnikins just got,"
"Dropped on his head,"
"One too many times,"
"As a baby."
Harry waved them off, suddenly a bit shy. He never had anyone come to his rescue before. Let alone the offender's own brothers. It threw him, and made it difficult to form words for a moment.
"Er... it's alright. Thank you."
Perhaps sensing his hesitation, the twins settled in quietly, content to let him read undisturbed for the majority of the trip. They spent a great deal of time huddled over pieces of parchment, whispering to each other as they made notations. From overheard words, they were formulating a new prank. The notion somehow did not surprise Harry, as he observed them subtly over the edge of his book. They seemed to delight in confounding people by speaking in tandem, in addition to their mischievous grins, and easy attitudes.
They were only disturbed twice, before they pulled onto the Hogsmeade platform. Once, by a bushy haired girl and sniffling boy, who were looking for a toad. The twins were quick to hedge her back out, the second she began exclaiming over Harry's scar. The second interruption was in the form of a snobbish blonde and his two cronies. He reminded Harry of Dudley, sans whale suit. The twins had scowled in disapproval the second they heard his name, and had forced the three away before much more could be said. They chose to ignore Harry's curiosity over it, not that he was not thankful for the peace and quiet before the real tests of patience and resolve began.
Harry was none too pleased to finally be free of the cramped space of the train. Not that the platform was much better. Thankfully the twins stayed with him for as long as they could, before they were forced to follow the rest of the older student. A rather large man stood heads taller than most of the students, getting rather intimidated glances from the shaking first years as he called them over. Harry kept his head down, as the man's beady black eyes swept over the sea of heads, as if searching for someone specific.
The castle was stunning, with the view from the lake, not that Harry got much opportunity to enjoy it. Having lagged behind the rest of the first years, he had been forced into a boat with the same bushy-haired girl from the train, a pair of female twins, and the blonde. Her expression had lit with excitement the second she spotted him coming near, and had jumped into a lengthy lecture which had started with the words, "I know all about you, Harry Potter!"
The mention of his name had of course drawn gasps and stares from the others, making Harry tune out the entire situation. When they finally landed in an underground harbor at the base of the castle, he was all too happy to dodge his way to the front of the line, as a strict looking woman with black hair, and green robes, led them inside. News swiftly spread up the line that 'Harry Potter is among us!', quite frankly it made Harry wish to poison the lot of them and have done with it. Keeping his head down as much as possible, he would forever be greatful to the ghosts, for providing ample distraction.
The arrival of the transparent figures through the wall only startled him from the suddenness of their appearance. Hogwarts A History had mentioned them, so he quickly shook off the fright, while the others continued cowering, or hyperventilating, in the case of one poor boy. Finally, they were led into the great hall. The descriptions from the book did not do it justice. Gazing around with honest awe, he turned his attention upward, quite pleased to see stars twinkling merrily. It only enhanced the feeling of space, despite the throngs of noisy older students already sitting at the four tables.
Forming a loose line in front of the head table, Harry suppressed the urge to fidget, tuning out the hat's singing as he took pains to calm his breathing. Being the center of attention was something he had been taught to be a bad thing, at the Dursleys. No matter that he was only one among dozens to be sorted. Never the less, a lead weight formed just south of his sternum as "Perks, Sally-Anne", was called forward. Retreating behind his masks, he tuned out the rest of the world, mentally preparing himself for the inevitable. He nearly missed it as, as expected, his name was called.
Ignoring the flurry of whispers that swept through the room, his features remained inscrutable as he carefully made his way over to the stool, taking a seat. McGonagall shot him a strange look, before his vision was encased in darkness, the hat lowering clear to his nose. Utter silence encased him for a fraction of a second, before he felt a crawling sensation across his scalp.
"Ooooh, finally made it, I see. I was wondering if you would."
He started at the voice, fists clenching in his lap to quell any other physical reaction. The hat made a thoughtful noise.
"So reserved... Yet you know when to act where it counts. Cunning, intelligent, undeniably brave... Where do you think you should go, Potter?"
Blinking at the question, he shrugged, vaguely recalling Walter's advice. "Honestly, I'd prefer not to be in Ron Weasley's house... or that buck-toothed girl. Beyond that... I don't have a preference."
The hat shivered with glee. Quite odd, considering it did not express emotion, per se. "Ah, so you've met Walter. Impudent little brat," It sounded fondly amused, "That leaves out Gryffindor, then. You're only loyal to those who earn your trust... Not quite for the humble Hufflepuff... Oh my... I know exactly where to put you." It sounded quite smug, making Harry's forehead crinkle in confusion.
"You don't have to understand, but you will in time. For now, go join-"
"SLYTHERIN!"
Unearthly silence gripped the hall, as everyone held their breaths in shock. Harry had to fight the urge to stomp his feet just to break the uncomfortable atmosphere, as he headed towards the silver and green house. Steadfastly ignoring any who moved over a bit too eagerly, he made his way until he spied a weedy looking boy near the end. He seemed to be paying Harry no mind, as he gazed at the golden plates with longing. A free space next to him afforded the scrawny brunet a place to sit, without being hounded overly.
It took a long moment after he sat, before noise finally erupted. A loud hiss from the gold and scarlet entourage, followed by a loud yelp, as someone -Harry suspected it was the twins' doing- was abruptly silenced with a kick, sparked McGonagall to abruptly continue the sorting. Now safely out of the limelight, save craned looks from his new house, and other tables, he let out a quiet breath of relief. The boy he had chosen seemed just as content to ignore him, which was more than fine. After a few more minutes, "Zabini, Blaise", was the last student to be sorted, joining Slytherin.
The dark skinned boy took a seat across from Harry, blithely barring an older student from sliding over. He shot the brunette a disinterested glance, before dismissing him entirely. Harry was perfectly alright with the uncaring attitude from his appointed 'shields'. To further discourage being pestered, an old man stood from the center of the staff table, and indicated for them to eat. Observing the old man yielded the assumption that this was Dumbledore.
As if sensing the realization, the old man turned his head to peer directly at Harry, and winked. Cold dread gripped the boy, as the twinkling blue eyes conjured countless nightmares from his past. Yet, they did not make sense. He had never seen this man before in his life.
A sharp elbow in his side made him hiss, tensing abruptly at the unexpectedness of the contact. The rabbit-like boy beside him frowned, before motioning towards the plates of food. The reminder caused his stomach to rumble, as the tantalizing scents finally registered. Reaching hesitantly for the dishes, he tucked in with some reserve, slightly skittish as he realized some people were still staring at him. It set him off his appetite, but he forced himself to eat half of his plate. The amount was still considerably less than what a normal eleven year old would have consumed, and earned him strange looks.
He chose to ignore his peers, in favor of observing the staff. There was McGonagall, sitting next to Dumbledore at the center of the table. Snape sat between a hawkish looking woman, and a tiny man. He did not appear to be participating in conversation. But rather, his gaze was roving over the Slytherin table, as if transcribing each face to memory. At last, his gaze landed on Harry. His lips pursed into a frown, black eyes narrowing in thought as they stared each other down. The reaction was strange to Harry, but he shrugged it off. He was now in the man's house, and thus had made his job both easier, and more difficult.
Ignoring the desserts which sprang into being a short time later, he continued his silent observation. One man sat chatting on McGonagall's other side, his head wrapped in a purple turbin. He had a shifty air about him, as he stuttered out a laugh. Their eyes met briefly, before just as abruptly, the acknowledgment was forgotten. Harry's scar ached oddly, but he refused to rub at it in public. Before he could ponder too deeply on the strange occurrence, Dumbledore stood once more.
The obviously standard announcements were noted, but largely tuned out. A sleepy haze was beginning to leaden his eyelids, making it hard to focus. Dimly, he wondered if the old man was serious about the warning regarding the third floor corridor. Many students laughed, clearly thinking it was a joke, but Harry was not among them. He took threats of harm or death quite seriously. Several other Slytherins seemed to hold similar opinions, as they went grimly silent after a moment of Dumbledore's frown.
Fighting to not stumble, as the older students herded the first years into the dungeons, Harry shivered at the almost frigid air. Not that he could complain. The common room was not that far from the entrance to the dungeons. The password, "Flubbertyjiggly – Who the bloody hell makes up these things?", made him crinkle his nose.
By contrast, walking into the room was like being wrapped in a warm blanket straight from the dryer. The ceiling was low, and the room dark, but the roaring fireplaces, and cozy looking chairs and couches made up. The house colors broke the otherwise gray scheme, candle sconces casting light across most of the study tables and corners. A prefect directed the males down a nearly unnoticed hall, rudely waving the group of first years into the very first door, while covering a yawn.
"You lot are in here. Be up by six o'clock, or you're finding your own way back to the great hall in the morning."
The others chatted quietly with each other as they readied for bed, but Harry stayed firmly silent. His lack of vocalization garnered a couple barbs from the platinum blonde, but they were easily ignored as he slipped behind the drapes of his bed to change. It felt odd to do so, when none of the other boys seemed to have issue with changing in front of each other. Thankfully on that, at least, there was no comment.
Soft snoring already filled the room, as Harry settled down in the plush blankets. They felt divine, even compared to his bed at Hellsing, which was saying something. Peering into the darkness, he let out a quiet sight. All in all, the day had gone well, despite the mild culture shock, and near constant barrage of questions and comments regarding his infantile deeds. He knew that the most challenging was yet to come, however. Eventually, he would be forced to socialize.
.
.
.
Note: Health problems have been a factor in my life recently, on top of the stress of term starting in a week and a half. Hopefully this chapter doesn't disappoint too much. As always, feedback is appreciated. And as always, I can't guarantee when the next chapter will be out.